by Moira Rogers
Jackson blinked, trying to clear the fog from his head. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was or why he was there.
Then it all snapped into place.
“May,” he muttered, sitting abruptly. “Shit, what—”
Mahalia sat across the foyer, cradling Steven’s head in her lap. Her eyes were swollen, red. “Jack.”
Steven was dead.
Alec steadied him. “Nick’s only just now coming around, and Michelle’s out cold. Whatever the bastard did stunned me and Aaron long enough for him to get out, but it hit all of you casters hard. And Nick, for some reason.”
“Michelle’s magic.” Jackson’s voice came out sounding too thick. “She’s sharing it with Nick.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Steven’s motionless form. “He shot him.”
“Yeah.” Alec crouched and lowered his voice. “You’ve got to talk to Mahalia. She won’t let anyone check on her. Won’t move either.”
Charles had shot him. His own nephew. “Okay.”
Jackson made it to his feet and walked slowly across the slick floor. Nick stared at him as he passed, her face and shirt streaked with blood, and he looked away.
“May.” He knelt beside her and covered one of her hands with his. “May—”
“We can’t leave him here,” she whispered, stroking her thumb over the dead man’s cheek. “Do you think Michelle’s friend could carry him?”
Alec knelt by Mahalia’s other side. “He’s got his hands full with Michelle, Mahalia. She hasn’t woken up yet. He’s pretty worried.”
Her face hardened. “We can’t leave him here.”
Jackson shook his head. “I’ll carry him myself if I have to.”
“My father could send a helicopter,” Nick said hoarsely from her position beside Michelle. “He could take you both back to New York this morning, Mahalia.”
“Cell phones aren’t worth a damn out here, but I’m sure Talbot’s got a landline somewhere.” Alec pushed himself to his feet again. “I’ll take Nick and we’ll find one. Call her dad.”
Dead. Steven’s dead. The thought kept pounding through Jackson’s head. “You hear that? Alec and Nick are going to take care of it.”
She grabbed his hand suddenly. “Find him, Jack. You promise me you’ll find Charles Talbot.”
The flat, shocked look in her eyes made him shiver. “I will. I promise.”
Silence fell again, stretching out between them unbroken until a low groan sounded on the other side of the room. The shapeshifter who’d been working for Charles stirred from his awkward position, slumped underneath the cracked remains of the sheetrock wall. “Fuck.”
Jackson was on his feet before he realized he’d moved, and he didn’t stop until he had his hands wrapped in the guy’s shirt. He dragged him up the wall and hissed a curse. “Where is she? Where did your boss take her?”
The man’s eyes slid open, and he looked like he was trying to focus. “He ran. Marcus found out what Talbot was going to do to her, and they ran. That’s all I know.”
He tugged at his shirt and slammed him back into the wall again. “Think real hard. What else?”
“Fuck you, man. Did it look like I was in the know?” Strong hands wrapped around Jackson’s wrists, the grip painful. “I’m in the shithouse for letting them go. Your little kitten turned this place upside-down.”
Nick stepped up beside them, sparing the man a cold glare. “My father is already on his way. Mackenzie called your office, and Kat called him.”
“She’s safe?” Relief weakened Jackson’s knees, and he glanced over at Alec. “Where did he take her?”
“They’re holed up in a hotel in Boston. I called Kat. She said Mackenzie was frantic, but seemed okay. Mostly worried about you.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Jackson muttered.
“Shouldn’t be long.” Nick rubbed her hands over her face. “They’re only about five minutes out, but we won’t all fit in the helicopter.” Her gaze strayed to Michelle. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”
She rushed off, and Jackson echoed her gesture by scrubbing wearily at his eyes. “We can’t wait for them to make another trip back to pick us up. How long would it take us to drive to Boston?”
Alec shrugged. “Five or six hours, depending on how morning traffic is. Peyton’s going to have other things on his mind besides Mackenzie, especially with his daughter unconscious and a crazed Seer on the loose. We probably need to get our asses in the car and drive.”
Jackson nodded. “So that’s what we’ll do. Can you keep an eye on this guy while I make sure Mahalia’s holding up?”
“Yeah. No problem.”
When Jackson spoke to her again, Mahalia ignored him. He sat beside her, smoothing his hand over her short, dark hair, and waited.
Mackenzie had grown so tense by the time the phone rang that she jumped and shrieked when the ringer went off. Marcus started awake, but she ignored him as she dove for the phone and yanked the handset off the hook. “Kat? Did you find him? Is he okay?”
Silence met her words. “It’s me. I’m all right.”
“Jackson.” She sank back to the bed, her hands shaking with the force of her relief. “Are you okay? What happened? I tried to call—I tried to let you know, but Kat said you’d already gone to get me—”
“We went to Talbot’s estate,” he confirmed wearily. “Steven—he didn’t make it. Everyone else is fine.”
Her stomach twisted. “Oh, Jesus. What happened?” As she spoke, Marcus leaned up and watched her carefully.
“Talbot lost his shit, that’s what.” He spoke away from the phone, but she heard him clearly. “Have they gotten to New York yet?”
Nick answered him. “They’re half an hour out.”
A tiny bit of relief welled in her at the sound of that voice. “Nick’s okay?”
His voice came back on the line. “No one else got hurt. Just Steven. Mahalia…well, she’s in bad shape.”
Sympathy flooded her, followed by choking guilt. “God, I should have stayed, or found some way to contact you.” He died for nothing.
“It wasn’t your fault.” He sighed again. “Are you—is everything all right there?”
“I’m okay.” She glanced over her shoulder at Marcus, who had rolled over to face the wall and grant her the illusion of privacy. “Marcus got me out. He didn’t know what was going on, not really. Are you…?”
“We’re on our way to Boston now.”
She swallowed. “Kat told you where we are? You talked to her?”
“She called Nick’s father, and he gave us the details.” He sounded exhausted. “We’re headed there. Alec and Nick and I.”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson.” Mackenzie closed her eyes and tried to swallow around the guilt. “Poor Mahalia.”
“She went to New York with Nick’s sister. I think she’s going to stay there for tonight, see what the wolves plan on doing about tracking Talbot down.”
Mackenzie turned to look at Marcus again. “You heard all that?”
He didn’t turn over, just said quietly, “I heard.”
“Do you want me to ask them anything?”
It took him a moment to answer. “What did they do to Eddie?”
She lifted the phone again. “Marcus wants to know what happened to Eddie. He’s the shapeshifter.”
“Peyton took him back to New York. He’ll have to stand before the Conclave. They’ll decide what to do with him, I guess.”
Marcus’s shoulders tensed. “They might execute him.” It wasn’t a question.
Part of her—not a small part—thought Eddie deserved to stand trial for the things he’d done. Another part of her remembered the haunted way he’d looked at her, how he’d been just as trapped as she. “He could have stopped us, but he let us go, Jackson. He let us get away,
and Charles could have killed him for it.”
“He almost did,” Jackson admitted. “The Conclave isn’t going to do anything rash, though. There’ll be time to give them the details of what happened.”
She asked because Marcus would want to know and wouldn’t ask himself. “Is Eddie okay?”
“He’s fine. Talbot knocked him into a wall, but he’s not hurt.” The phone beeped, and Jackson swore. “I have to go. My cell is dying. Stay in the hotel room, and don’t let anyone in. We’ll be there soon.”
“Okay. Be safe, Jackson. I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah, Kenzie. You will.” The phone beeped again and clicked.
Mackenzie listened to the silence for a few tense seconds before dropping the receiver back in its cradle. She pulled her legs up on the bed and stared at Marcus’s back. “You heard him. Jackson said they’ll give Eddie a chance.”
“Yes.” Marcus glanced back over his shoulder and smiled weakly. “Thanks for asking after him.”
“You can talk to Nick when she gets here,” Mackenzie offered, struggling against the instinctive need to bridge the space between them, to comfort him. “She can help you. With her dad, I mean. She’s really nice.”
His expression didn’t change. “Yes, I’m sure she is.” There was no hint of sarcasm in his words. “But I have no claim on her assistance.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. His pain found an answering echo inside her, and she slipped off the bed and crossed the short distance to his. Energy prickled along her skin as she reached out and curled her fingers around his. “The way I figure, our fucked-up family history makes you the closest thing I’m ever going to have to a brother. So I’ll make claims for both of us, if you can help me deal with this whole turning-into-a-giant-cat thing.”
He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She dropped to the edge of the bed and bumped him with her elbow. “Scoot over. I’m too jittery to sleep, and I’m pretty sure it’s my right and duty as a bratty little sister to make you suffer with me.”
Marcus laughed as he complied. “Good luck explaining this to your boyfriend.”
Mackenzie stretched out next to him. “After all the leaps of faith I’ve made for him over the past week, I think he owes me one.” Her fingers tightened around Marcus’s hand. “Besides. I got the impression there aren’t a whole lot of us left. I still don’t understand it, Marcus. I mean, my instincts aren’t telling me to have your babies, but there’s this whole other…person. Creature. Something inside me, and she trusts you.”
“There aren’t many of us left,” he confirmed. “Perhaps no more than twenty in the country, now.”
She closed her eyes and asked the last question she wanted to hear the answer to. “You don’t want this plan, do you? I mean, do you think it’s your duty to have magical kids with me?”
She thought he might not answer. Finally, he sighed and pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulders. “No, I never really wanted it. I mean, you’re lovely, and I want to have children someday. I’m just not certain I want them to have the responsibility of saving the cougars.” He gave her a wry look. “It hasn’t worked out so well for us, after all, has it?”
“It’s a lot to put on a kid,” she agreed quietly. “It was a lot to put on you. Too much. Maybe I’m lacking perspective because I’m so new to this, but… Well, it would be sad if the cougars disappeared, but is it somehow going to be better if the ones who are left half-kill themselves trying to stop it?”
“I don’t have any answers.” He lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “If Charles could start over at this point, I think he would. But he’d have to find new parents, cast the necessary spells during pregnancy, and then wait for those children to grow up like us. He just doesn’t have time.”
She shivered. “I think you should go to New York. Go check on Eddie. Talk to the Conclave, tell them what you know. And…let us deal with the rest of it.” Let us kill the only man who’s ever been a father to you. It was the only way they’d be safe. She had no sympathy in her for Charles and his insanity, not after what he’d done to her parents, to Marcus’s parents, to Steven—
“If they’d allow me to speak, I’d like to.”
“We’ll find a way. When it’s all over, maybe you could help me learn how to deal with this stuff. How to understand what I’m feeling.”
“I can try.” He smiled again, and there was less pain in the expression. “It’s not like I have a lot of other things on my plate right now.”
“Sure you do. You get to decide what you want to do with your life. All those things you didn’t get to think about when you were responsible for the legacy of an entire race.”
“Funny,” he murmured, his eyes drifting shut. “This way seems a lot scarier.”
She stroked his cheek lightly and brushed a strand of dark hair away from his forehead, protective tenderness rising in her. “Yeah, I’m familiar with that feeling. But my friends are good people, Marcus. They’ll understand.” At least, she hoped they would. “They’ll help us both. We may be weirdly orphaned, big shapeshifting cats, but we’re not alone.”
He opened his eyes again, but didn’t look at her. “You’re not, anyway.”
Mackenzie considered saying something sympathetic. She considered trying to reassure him.
Instead she frowned and dug her elbow into his side. “Hey, I said you had me, and I meant it. If I can forgive you for chasing me through five cities and pretty much destroying my life, you can man up and forgive yourself. So stop whining and get ready to get your ass to New York so you can get your…friend back.” Or whatever the hell Eddie is to you.
He grunted. “Okay.” After a second, he rubbed his side. “That hurt.”
She choked on a laugh. “I guess I’m super strong now. It’s your fault for not teaching me how to avoid hurting people with it.”
“We can work on that too.”
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes to keep from checking the clock again. “Later. Go back to sleep, Marcus. I’m sure we’re not going to have a lot of time to sleep once they get here.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
She must have dozed off. She remembered staring at the wall and fighting the urge to check the clock a dozen times, but at some point she fell asleep, because she jerked awake when she heard the quiet knock at the door.
Marcus woke a second later, but she’d already tumbled off the bed, her attention focused on the door, on the familiar scent outside it and the soft sound of Nick’s voice as she mumbled something.
“Mackenzie—”
She ignored Marcus’s warning and bolted to the door, her hands shaking as she tore at the chain lock. “It’s them, I can hear them, I can smell them—” Oh God, and that might be the most disturbing thing ever.
But it didn’t matter. She clawed at the lock and yanked open the door. Jackson stood there, looking bone-weary but relieved to see her. She ignored everyone else and flung herself at him, winding her arms around him as she nuzzled her face against his neck.
“Kenzie.” His arms locked around her, and he lifted her off her feet. “Are you okay?” He spoke quietly but urgently. “Are you really okay?”
“I am now.” She whispered the words against his jaw and dragged her head back so she could stare at him. “Are you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He looked past her and his face hardened. “Marcus Foster, I guess.”
“That’s him,” Nick confirmed. “We met several years ago.”
Marcus straightened his shirt and took a deep breath. “I remember. Hello.”
“Jackson.” She tightened her fingers in his hair and forced his gaze back to her. “Don’t. He had no idea what was going on. When he found out, he risked his life to get me out.”
Nick stepped past them both and favored Marcus with a small smile and an outs
tretched hand. “Call me Nick. Want to go downstairs for a drink with me and Alec?”
Marcus cleared his throat. “Mackenzie?”
She turned her head and met his eyes, recognizing the nervousness and indecision, and underneath the slightest bit of protective concern. “Nick will take care of you.” Her cheeks heated, but it didn’t stop her. “Did you guys get a room? Jackson and I need to talk, I think.”
Nick coughed. “We will be on an entirely different floor. Trust me on that.”
Oh, yeah. She was blushing now. A different heat curled through her, spurred on by the proximity of Jackson’s body and sheer, giddy relief at having him safe in her arms. “Okay. Yeah, you can go with them, Marcus. I’ll be okay.” I’ll be wonderful. I’ll be perfect.
Marcus nodded and grabbed his shoes. “I’ll be at the bar or—or wherever.” He hurried to follow Nick and slammed the door behind him.
Mackenzie drew in a breath and turned back to meet Jackson’s eyes again. “I think they think I’m going to—”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “We need to talk about what’s happened, I guess.”
“God, Jackson.” She stepped forward and curled her arms around him, soothed instinctively by the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. Holding him felt different now, probably because of the senses she couldn’t control yet. The jumble of scents was hard to sort through, but the sharp, metallic smell of blood was unmistakable, and it made her tense. “Promise me you’re okay, first.”
“What? Oh. It’s not my blood.” His fingers wove into her hair, and his eyes darkened. “I can’t talk about it right now. If I start thinking about it…”
“Shh.” She kissed the pulse beating too fast in his neck. “We’re here. We’re safe. We can talk later. We have a later now—”
His mouth cut off the rest of her words, and he lifted her again. When he lowered her this time, she felt the softness of the bed against her back. His lips stayed on hers, coaxing and caressing. His tongue traced the corner of her mouth and dove inside to stroke over her teeth and tongue.