She turned and stalked back into the apartment.
Lore stepped inside, smelling chicken and onions from the soup pot on the stove. I had no idea Errata could cook. He shed his coat and walked through to the living room. It was mostly bare brick with black leather furniture. Perry had taken the place for much the same reason Lore had moved into his friend Mac’s old condo—to gain a little distance from their respective packs. They were both considered rebels for adopting the human custom of finding a place of their own.
At the moment, though, it appeared Errata had taken charge. She was frowning down at Perry, who was stretched out on the couch, cushions propping him into a semi-sitting position. Perry’s arm was in a sling, probably to immobilize his wounded shoulder. His color was bad, skin pale against the shadow of his beard, and his scent was tainted with the sweat of pain.
“What part of bed rest don’t you understand?” Errata fumed.
Perry’s eyes narrowed to slits. “The part where I take a nap while the bad guys finish me off. That’s why they let me out of the hospital, remember? Too hard to run a medical center with assassins roaming the halls, so you send the target home so he can be murdered offsite. No, thanks. I’d rather cut to the chase and catch the bastards.”
Lore didn’t see Perry angry very often, but the wolf was on a slow burn. Lore didn’t blame him one bit. No hospital would send away a human patient like this. “How many guards are there around this place?”
Just because Lore hadn’t seen them outside, that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Most of the Silvertail pack knew Lore, at least by sight, and wouldn’t stop him.
Perry started to shrug, but winced when he tried to move his shoulder. “Dad said he had it covered. Of course, he wanted me to go back to his place.”
“Maybe you should have,” said Lore.
“No way. I do that, and as far as they’re concerned, I’m twelve again.” Perry smiled, but he sounded like he was only half joking.
Errata gave a little hiss. “Stubborn idiot.”
A knock sounded at the kitchen door, two quick raps. Errata went to answer it. Lore glanced over at Perry. His friend had his eyes closed, lines of pain around his mouth. Errata was right. Perry should be in bed, not hosting a meeting.
At that moment, Errata led Darak into the room. The werecougar, tall as she was, looked like a child next to him. “Lore, your, uh, friend’s here.”
Lore and Darak exchanged a wary look.
“Hellhound,” Darak rumbled by way of greeting. Then he turned to Perry. “You look half-dead.”
“Working on it,” Perry replied, opening his eyes to slits. “Do I know you?”
“Perry Baker, Errata Jones,” Lore said, pointing to his friends. “Everyone, this is Darak.
“Of Clan Thanatos,” Darak added.
At that, Perry opened both eyes. “We’re going with the heavy hitters.”
“Damned straight.” Darak made himself comfortable in an overstuffed chair. “What’s this I hear about Talia being gone? How long?”
“Two hours,” Lore said.
“That’s not missing. That’s out for coffee. What else is going on?”
Uneasy, Lore took the other chair. Errata sat on the arm of the couch next to Perry.
Lore got to the point. “First problem: The airports are clear and Omara will be landing shortly. It’s New Year’s Eve and the town is packed with strangers. It’s the perfect time for this attack we’re anticipating.”
“Where is she going to be?” asked Errata.
“She’s staying at her usual hotel downtown. The Hilliard Fairview.”
“Shouldn’t she go someplace different?” asked Errata. “She knows there’s a problem, right? With the fire and the election and necromancy, etcetera?”
“Queens don’t move,” Darak replied. “It would be a sign of weakness.”
“Great.” Lore rubbed his eyes, wishing aspirin worked on half-demon headaches. “Problem two: Talia is missing. I think she’s with Baines, but I don’t know exactly why. Her cousin was beheaded by a necromancer we think was her sire. Her brother is a Hunter who may well be the sniper who shot Perry. Against everything we know about Hunters, they’re using magic.”
Darak made a noise that said he’d just figured something out. “So the Hunters are the interested parties.”
They all looked at him, Lore getting the creeping sense that matters had just got worse. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Belenos wants to destroy Omara,” Darak answered. “It’s not a leap to believe the Hunters would consider the election an abomination, and they’d cheerfully punish the queen whose influence made it possible. They’re working with Belenos. That’s why the Hunters have access to magic. A truce in order to kill a common enemy.”
“Wait a minute.” Confused, Lore got to his feet and began pacing. “The Hunters and Belenos? Belenos killed Talia. He addicted her brother. The Hunters would never work with him. Belenos has a feud with her father. She told me.”
“Am I missing something?” Perry asked.
“Talia was born a Hunter,” Errata said.
“What the hell? No way.”
“Her brother came to finish you off and she chased him through the hospital. You slept through the whole thing.”
“Thank God for that.” Perry winced. “Fido’s balls, Lore, I know you like the wild girls, but wow.”
“She is not a Hunter now,” Lore retorted, feeling his defenses rise. Where is Talia? Why hasn’t she called?
“I don’t know this tribe of Hunters,” said Darak. “But the ones I do know always put the killing of monsters ahead of their personal affections. Their children are the pawns and tools of their fathers. It’s an honor to sacrifice them to the cause.”
Lore stopped pacing and sat down again, feeling sick. “That fits with what Talia has said.”
“Not to be self-centered,” said Perry, trying to hitch himself higher onto the pillows. “But on the subject of my foiled assassination, I take it that Belenos sent the brother after me? Why?”
“Belenos must have found out that you have video images proving he’s in town,” Lore said. “I’m not sure how they knew.”
“I was working as fast as I could. Maybe I left a trail.” Perry winced and closed his eyes. “But still, how would they even know? More to the point, why do they care? What does it matter if we know Belenos was in town once the attack is over?”
“He needs time,” Darak said. “And he will try to get away without being discovered. He will try to stick the Hunters with the blame. And my people.”
“Why you?” Lore asked.
“Belenos hired me to kill the queen.” Darak’s words were matter-of-fact.
Lore’s heart began to speed. “Then why are you here?”
Darak shrugged, an earthquake in that massive body. “I care nothing for the queen, but Belenos is a pig.” And he told them how he’d found Belenos, and what he’d seen. “My guess is the attack will come through the sewers.”
“It fits,” said Lore. “Talia chased Max from the hospital into the underground tunnels.”
“If all this is true, at least we know what game they’re playing.” Errata rose to stand by the Christmas tree, hugging herself. “The next move is ours. Where do we go from here?”
Lore answered, his hellhound instincts utterly certain. “We confront them in their headquarters. Then we chew their bones.”
Perry cleared his throat. “Hell, Rover, this is Belenos we’re talking about.”
“The sorcery could be a problem,” Lore conceded. “But they are still flesh and blood.”
“From what I saw, Belenos has men stationed over a wide area. To catch them all, you’ll have to sweep all the tunnels under the city,” Darak put in. “That’s a large area. If Belenos is smart, he’s going to be on the move himself. His magic is one of their greatest weapons. He’s not going to make himself a stationary target.”
No one answered that one. A st
ray thought of Talia, the way she had looked at him from her pillow, reminded Lore of everything he could lose. He rose, anxious with what they were about to set in motion. He knew what had to be done, was willing to accept the responsibility, but that didn’t stop dread from crawling like cold lead through his veins.
He had to mobilize the hounds and wolves and invade the tunnels.
Taking his cell phone, he stepped outside the back door, not bothering to put on his coat. The night felt muffled by clouds, the sky hovering just above the rooftops. The square of light from the doorway splashed into the darkness, an island of homey warmth framing his shadow. He sucked in a lungful of the icy air, exhaled a cloud of frosty breath.
He tried to let go of enough tension to think clearly. Part of him was proud of what had just happened. He’d pulled together a team and figured out Belenos’s plan. Perry had paid a high price, but that only made Lore more determined to make their work count. He pulled out his phone and began making calls, first to Bevan and then to Perry’s father, the Alpha of Pack Silvertail.
Lore rubbed his hand over his face, willing to trade anything to be back in bed with Talia, lost in lovemaking. His skin remembered hers, the curve of her collarbone beneath his lips, the faint spray of freckles in the cleft between her breasts. The idea of her brought such a weight of joy and sadness that he struggled for the next breath.
The last thought had barely formed, when a familiar dread leached the softness from the gray winter night. Something evil was watching, just as it had on the night Talia’s cousin was killed. Lore’s gaze snapped upward, scanning for any clue. This has to be Belenos at work again.
He’d felt this same dark miasma just before the fire—except this time he was sure it was watching him. Lore banged back into the apartment, the door crashing shut in his wake. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
“Why?” Darak demanded.
Lore struggled for a moment, searching for the right words. “There’s dark sorcery watching us again. I felt it in the parking lot.”
“What?”
Perry struggled to a sitting position. “Fido’s balls, not again.”
The last time he had described the evil, Perry had teased him. Now his friend sat white-faced with pain, a hard expression in his eyes that Lore hadn’t seen before. Perry gave a bitter smile. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not really up to running.”
“It’s Belenos,” Darak said, understanding sparking in his eyes. “Now I understand. He has a scrying ball. He’s using it to spy on his enemies.”
“That’s why he’s been a step ahead of us all along.” Lore looked at Perry. “If you used a spell to locate his image on surveillance video, that’s how he found you.”
“Shortcuts,” Perry said sourly. “I should know better than that.”
Darak pulled a carved wooden amulet from his pocket. He turned it over in his hand and shook it. “Nia, my second, made me take this to hide from the evil eye. Maybe its battery’s dead.”
“How do we block Belenos out?” Lore asked.
“You don’t. I do,” said Perry.
“You can’t,” Errata shot back. “You’re full of holes.”
Perry flushed with temper. “Are there any other sorcerers in the room?”
Errata folded her arms, her expression hurt and angry at once. “Just don’t complain to me when you bleed to death, okay?”
Perry shook his head, as if shaking off her words. “Cats, always with the big drama. Hand me that red stone on the bookcase.”
With his good arm, Perry pointed to a sphere of red jasper about the size of a man’s fist. Lore did as he asked, finding the sphere was heavier than he expected. He passed it over carefully, afraid that one of them would drop it. Perry braced his hand on his knee, cupping the stone.
“Drama my hind paw,” Errata muttered. “You’re just another macho idiot.”
“Better that than an idiot in that evil entity’s crosshairs.”
Errata clamped her mouth into a thin line.
Lore shot her a look he hoped was sympathetic. He didn’t blame her for worrying. Perry was reciting something in a low voice. The wolf stared hard at the ball of jasper, a deep furrow creasing his brow. A faint glow was gathering around the ball, but it was obviously coming at a price. His face was falling into hard, tired lines, his skin draining of any remaining color.
Then, as suddenly as if a switch had turned on, the ball of red jasper began to radiate a thick, ruddy glow. Perry’s shoulders sagged. At first the light spilled over his hands, heavy as syrup, but with a single word from him, it feathered into the air, fanning out like a drop of ink in a pan of water. It crept farther and farther in every direction, a splash in slow motion. As it thinned to cover every inch of space, the color grew so thin it was barely noticeable.
Lore and the others watched, looking up, down, and to every corner as the room filled with the faint light. “What’s it doing?” Lore demanded.
“Call it magical anti-spyware,” Perry said softly. “It’ll scrub any unwanted spells within a city block.”
He set the ball on the coffee table and sank back against the couch cushions, closing his eyes again. “We’re safe enough for the moment, but we’ve got to fix this, quick. I can’t shield the whole town.”
“If you attack the tunnels, expect resistance,” Darak said grimly. “Chances are, Belenos will see you coming.”
Lore’s phone chose that moment to ring. He flipped it open. “Hello?”
“It’s Baines.”
The phone line crackled as if the connection was breaking up.
“Detective.” Lore’s heart leaped. “Thanks for returning my messages. Is Talia with you?”
“She’s gone. I need your help. I’m willing to bet she does, too.”
“What happened?”
“The only clue I’ve got is a pair of fang marks in my neck.”
There was static on the line.
“What did you say?” Lore demanded. There was another burst of static that made Lore growl at the phone.
Finally, a clear sentence came through. “I can’t get through to the station. I’m underground. I don’t have a clue where I am. It’s freezing cold. Someone bit me and then dumped me down here.”
The call went dead.
Chapter 28
Friday, December 31, 10:00 p.m.
Spookytown
They were going into the tunnels.
They’d gathered in the alley outside the Castle door. It was cold and it was snowing again, a steady drift of fat, white flakes that made the crowd around the open manhole cover look like a scene from a demented Christmas card.
For the last ten minutes, Lore had been giving everyone their instructions, the logical part of his brain still working even if the rest was MIA. At the moment, Lore didn’t care about evil bubbling up through the storm drains—he wanted Talia in his bed, and the rest of the world could line dance its way to hell. But she was missing and probably underground with Belenos, so down the manhole Lore and his makeshift army would go.
There were wolves and hounds, both in beast and man form. Joe had spread the word to some of the local vampires, too. They stood at the back, lounging against the brick wall and smoking, flashing fang as they laughed at their own jokes.
Darak had left to meet the other members of Clan Thanatos. Besides the two that Lore had met, a handful of others had just arrived from down the coast by private boat. They would carry out their part of the plan separately. Clan Thanatos would cover the operations aboveground, Lore and his friends below. As they’d expected, Belenos had given his assassins the word to set Omara’s doom in motion. Lore hoped Darak was as good as he claimed, because at a rough estimate Belenos’s welcome party for the queen, not counting the Hunters, outnumbered Clan Thanatos ten to one.
Mavritte stood across from Lore, on the other side of the sewer entrance. She’d planted her feet as if she were braced for another attack, her hands fisted on her hips. The strappy leather
outfit she wore showed the deep scars in her skin, reminding him of the sacrifices she had made fighting for her people. It was good to have her on his side. It meant something that, despite their differences, she’d brought the Redbones when he asked.
Time was their enemy. Hurrying through his instructions, Lore forced himself to look calm and in charge. “Any questions?” he concluded, scanning the crowd.
“Go over the bit again about how we’re not going to be made into throw rugs by the Hunters,” said Joe, who had left his bar to support Lore in the fight. “Just for me.”
Joe was carrying a weapon called a bardiche, which looked like a thin, curved ax on a long pole. The blade was almost as long as his arm, but Joe handled it with the ease of long familiarity. No villain in his right mind was coming near that thing.
A camera flashed. Errata was there, documenting everything. Lore wanted to snap at her. Sure this was news and she was a journalist, but the constant retinal assault was getting old.
Perry wasn’t there, and that left a hole. Since coming to Fairview, they’d been friends, always together in a fight—against the demon Geneva; against their foes in the Castle; and in a dozen bars in Fairview and surrounds. Perry’s absence was the marker of just how serious this was. He was the first casualty. There could be more.
Talia might be tied up and at the mercy of her sire. A sick lurch jolted Lore’s stomach.
And where the hell was Detective Baines?
With his heart in his throat, he gave the order to move. He’d prepared his people as best he could but, ultimately, they didn’t know what they’d find down below. The nonnegotiable was that Lore never, ever left his people behind. One way or another, he would get everyone home.
Once they were into the tunnels, the company split up. Errata had insisted on being embedded with the troops, whatever that meant. The company split into four groups, each taking a quadrant of the tunnels. Lore had deliberately kept the units small. There wasn’t much room to maneuver underground, and he didn’t want his people getting in each other’s way. An efficient strike force, experienced with close quarters, was the best choice he could make with the information at hand.
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