by Dane, Lauren
Her gaze flitted over to the sheet and the two witches who’d been standing over it. She’d failed him. That Were who’d volunteered to be on her team. Who’d been doing his job and ended up dead for it. His pack members had shown up just a few minutes before, and as they were finally able to get past the police tape, were preparing to remove his body.
“I’ll be expecting your detailed reports. Tomorrow morning. Alix, Sam and Marcus, I want you to be lead on this. Get all the pertinent info to me. I need to speak with The Gennessee, to brief her and the rest of the Governance Council about this. She’ll then relay that information to The Owen.” More calls, more conferences, more everything.
The Enforcer from the South Bay Pack approached.
“I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good soldier.” Helena carefully spoke, knowing grief was expected, but that wolves felt it was an honor to die protecting Pack.
He inclined his head just slightly. The wolves in Southern California had just undergone a huge leadership shake-up. They’d been falling down on the job for years and recent events had made it clear to National Pack that wolves who understood what it meant to lead needed to be in charge.
The new alpha families had been much better in the months since the Magister. But they had a lot of neglect to undo. Sending people to help with the protection of all Others was a great start.
“We appreciate the honor you paid him by having your people watch over him. We’ll be sending two replacements tomorrow.”
She wasn’t going to argue. She needed every body she could get. But it was hard, she knew firsthand, to put your people in the line of fire.
“Thank you.”
“As my Alpha has made clear, we’re in this together. We can’t afford to let this break us.”
She nodded. “No, we can’t. But thank you anyway.”
He turned, his wolves carrying the body away as they left the scene.
She returned her attention to her people. “Let’s go. Get some rest. This all starts again in six hours.”
Helena noted their emotional exhaustion, the shock on their faces as it melded with rage and fear. She hated that she couldn’t fix it. Her life was jammed with so much stuff she couldn’t fix that it filled her with a sense of impotent rage all her waking hours. She was a doer. That’s how she was made. And to not be able to attack a problem and fix it was slowly wearing her down.
Faine walked ahead of her, opening the car door for her. The passenger side. Hm. She allowed it because she was beyond exhausted and driving in that state wasn’t advisable. He pulled away from the curb and away from the scene. But it was still in her nose. In her head. The faces of all those Others who depended on her to protect them.
And the sheet covering the one she couldn’t protect.
“I need to go back to the office.” She pulled her phone from her pocket as she spoke to him. Eleven new messages.
She listened to them, returned a few, sent a dozen emails and texts, and when she looked up again to take a breather, she noted he was getting off the freeway far short of Pasadena.
“Why are you getting off here?”
“You’re about to pass out. I’m taking you to my home.”
“I have a couch in my office.”
“You and your sister are very much alike.” He grumbled this under his breath, but she heard it and it made her smile.
“She has blue hair and an atrocious sense of fashion.”
“The outside doesn’t matter. Your insides are the same. Stubborn. Do you think you’ll be more effective if you work until you literally just fall over? Who will you be helping then?”
“You know how long I’ve been awake because you’ve been with me the whole time. I don’t see you getting into your jammies.”
“Jammies?”
“Pajamas. The clothes people sleep in.”
“I don’t sleep in any clothes.”
Christ. As if her fascination with him wasn’t bad enough, he had to put that image in her head?
But before she could really go there and imagine him, all nearly seven feet of hard muscle and ebony skin, naked and in her bed, he spoke again.
“And I’m four hundred years old, Helena. I am Lycian. I was bred to be up for days on end, fighting, marching, killing, all without sleep. You’re a witch, and while you’re powerful and fierce, you can’t survive on two hours’ sleep in two days.”
“There were twenty humans in that group tonight. That means they’re not flinching at sending their ranks to die. If I sleep, I’m not following up. How many people are going to die while I take a little nap?”
Failure wasn’t something she liked at all. And in truth, she felt like she was drowning at least 60 percent of the time these days.
“You have people working three shifts. Trust them for six hours. Just six hours. You know you’ll be far more alert and less inclined to make a mistake or miss something when you get some rest. Your magick will be stronger as well.”
He was right. She knew he was. She’d used a lot of magick over the last few days. Her head hurt, her eyes felt like sandpaper and repeated adrenaline rushes followed by the crash afterward had left her muscles less and less responsive.
“Fine, but I’ll sleep on my couch at the office.”
“No need.” He pulled down a street with a huge gate at the end. High fences surrounded the neighborhood just beyond. One of the first fortified enclaves in Southern California. Designed by Others for Others ultimate safety. Round the clock security.
He pulled up to a gate that slid open after the guard recognized him. He paused, handed over a card that was scanned and approved before it was returned.
“My place is right here. You can have my bed and I’ll take the guest room. It’s a big bed. It’ll be another forty-five minutes to get out to Pasadena. That’s forty-five minutes you could be sleeping instead. It’s really all about economy, right?”
He was very, very bossy. But once she’d allowed herself to agree to sleep, her will to argue was gone.
He drove down the main street of the mini subdivision before taking a left. Guard towers dotted the several-square-block area. Barriers much like those that had been put into place outside public buildings in the wake of the 9/11 attacks surrounded those high fences to ward off any attempts at car bombs.
The outer walls were all warded by the most powerful Full Council witches Gennessee had. As were all the houses. Guards, nearly all of them shifters, prowled the streets day and night. A bustling new industry of witches who hired out to ward homes and businesses had sprung up.
Many in the area now lived this way and other such enclaves were being prepared or were already being moved into all across the country. It made her sad, but at least it kept them safer.
He pulled into his garage and she realized she’d never even been to his house before. She trudged to the connecting door as he turned off the alarm. “Wait here.”
He went in first. She wanted to make a crack about how they’d just gone through eight different security checkpoints and two different alarms to get this far. But she’d seen so much happen in the last months after the Magister had come and turned everything upside down. So much death and destruction.
She kept her mouth shut and waited patiently until he came back to her. “Come in.”
It was a surprise, how nice the place was inside. He worked so much and traveled as often as she did that she didn’t have any idea when he would have had the time to get the furniture and housewares inside.
“My sister.”
She shook herself out of her thoughts. “What?”
“You were wondering how this place got decorated. My sister came from Lycia and she took care of everything. I’m not here that often, but when I am, it’s nice to have a comfortable home to return to. A safe one.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” And it was.
She wondered if he was homesick at all but didn’t have the energy to engage. She’d ask him another time.
He pushed a door open and she saw the massive bed and may have sighed wistfully.
“I can take the guest room, you know. Or the couch. I’m just going to pass out anyway.” She was sure she didn’t begin to sound convincing.
He sighed and shook his head. “Silly female. This is the best bed in the house. As your host, it’s my job to give it to you. Also, it’s the quietest room. Use it and make me happy.”
“I need a shower first. I’m covered in soot.”
Another door pushed open to reveal a bathroom. “I’ll get you something to sleep in. Towels are in that cabinet there.”
And then she was alone to get rid of her filthy clothes, leaving them in a pile in the corner. She’d deal with the towel after she was clean, not wanting to get the ones in the cabinet dirty.
Hot water rained down on her skin as she made her way into the stall. She simply stood there, letting it wash over her for long minutes.
There had been far too many showers like this one. Where she’d stood and hoped all the death would wash off. But it was bone deep and she wondered when, if ever, she’d be able to let go of the things she’d seen . . . and done . . . over the last months.
People relied on her to make good choices. And she’d failed. More than once. And the price for that failure had been injury. It had been death.
She had no answers. Just Band-Aid fixes to stumble from one thing to the next and hope she didn’t mess up so badly more people ended up dead.
Never in her life, not even in the time after her engagement had broken, had she felt more alone. More totally overwhelmed by everything. And there was no time for it. No space to let herself relax even a little. Because the hits just kept coming.
Never in her life had she been so afraid.
Her sobs tore from her diaphragm, rusty and sharp and full of everything she tried to shove far away from her mind all day long. Tearing that open and bringing it back made her nauseated.
She let the tears come as she scrubbed her hair. As she saw the soot and blood head down the drain. She would let herself have these minutes and then she’d pull herself back together again because there wasn’t any more margin for error. She didn’t have any more room to wallow or worry. She had to keep on keeping on.
Because there was no one else to do the job.
She reined it all back. Made herself stop crying as she turned her face up to the water. Letting it heat her through to cut her shivers.
When she stepped out her legs were a great deal more steady. The warm air in the bathroom was welcome and she was grateful that he’d turned the heat up. Lycians, like shifters, had high body temps, so quite often their homes tended to be cool.
But like his brother, Simon, her sister Lark’s boyfriend—mate, whatever he was—he seemed to thrive on taking care of people he considered his to protect. Helena knew she’d become one of them.
She liked it. Even as it chafed sometimes. It was nice to have someone taking care of her when it felt like pretty much every moment of her existence now was about taking care of everyone else.
Also? He was hot and criminally sexy. When he turned all that on her it made her a little fluttery inside.
They’d been sort of dancing around each other for months but she was way too busy to enter into anything with anyone, much less a big, bossy Lycian prince who clearly had issues with the word no.
When she wiped the steam from the mirror she noticed that he’d left a huge shirt on top of a towel. She hadn’t even heard him come into the room, and then hoped he hadn’t heard her crying.
She had a reputation as an ice bitch. Crying ruined that image. Though he’d never say a word, he’d know all the same.
After a cursory towel dry of her hair, she braided it quickly, put on the T-shirt that came to her knees—which was good since she had no clean underpants—and shuffled into the bedroom where he’d left a pitcher of water, some snacks and had even turned the blankets back.
That care nearly brought her tears back, so instead she shoved some crackers into her face, gulped down three glasses of water and lay back.
Once she did that, even as she felt herself falling toward sleep, she couldn’t help recounting the last several days. One skirmish after another. Like a horror movie.
An assault by four kids at a high school in Fountain Valley. The shifter they’d attacked had handled it himself but they’d had to stop a near riot when the human parents of the bullies had shown up at the kid’s house, demanding blood.
Vandalism in Garden Grove. A restaurant had had its windows broken out; anti-Other graffiti had been spray painted on the walls. The interior had been totally destroyed and the food ruined.
A car set on fire in La Habra, which was where they’d been when they got the call about the community center in Whittier and had rushed over, only to have to engage in an actual, no shit, pitch battle on the street with crazy people who thought it was totally okay to kill kids and old people.
She hated this world. Hated that people wanted to kill her simply because she was different. Hated that her friend Molly had been attacked and was now in two casts because of the rising threat of the human separatist groups.
These were her former neighbors. The kids she and her sister, Lark, had gone to school with. People she used to think were her friends. The dividing lines had been drawn and the gulf between them got deeper by the day.
And now that Molly had given an ultimatum to the humans to leave the Others alone and stop trying to harm them or strip them of their rights as Americans, those lines kept getting drawn.
They were in a brief limbo period as Molly recovered, but soon they’d be on the road again and Helena would most likely again be on the security detail for those Others who were traveling all across the country addressing crowds of humans, Others and legislators of all types. Trying to educate. Trying to mediate. Trying to stop an all-out war before it broke out.
But the edges of the world were torn and frayed. Helena wasn’t sure how much longer things would hold before snapping.
Chapter 3
HER ringing phone woke her up just a little more than four hours after she’d finally fallen asleep. Still heavy with exhaustion, Helena managed to grab it and answer.
“Jaansen.”
It was Lark, Helena’s little sister and the Hunter of Clan Owen. “I’m so sorry to wake you. I know you probably just got to sleep after all that insanity last night.”
For years she and Lark had run Gennessee’s hunter team together, but over the last months things had changed. Lark had left, moved to Seattle to run Owen’s team. She’d also nearly been killed during the battle to defeat the Magister. But the best part of the last months was that she and Lark had finally gotten past the things that had been keeping them apart and were once more as close as they’d been.
Another high point was that Lark had found love in an unlikely place, Faine’s older brother, Simon. It made Helena feel a lot better that Lark had someone so tough at her back. But she missed her sister fiercely, especially during such dark times.
Helena sighed, managing to sit, stacking pillows at her back. “It’s fine. Hazard of the job. What’s up?”
“We need to get together. A videoconference call. Can you be at Gennessee in thirty minutes?”
Helena noted it was nine in the morning. “I’m not at my apartment. I slept at Faine’s last night. I can probably do an hour, or an hour and a half depending on traffic.” But it wouldn’t be pretty. All her clothes and stuff were at her place, though she had some in her office, so that would work too.
“Really now? I figured it would be Tosh.”
Sato? “You what? Never mind. Your brain works in mysterious and twisted ways. As for Faine? Don’t get excited. He gave me his bed and slept in
the guest room.”
“Bummer. You should give Lycians a try. Just sayin’. Big and braw. Totally know their way around a lady. Centuries of being hot dudes serve a gal well. Though they are bossy. Especially royal ones. That’s a drawback.”
“I have enough people trying to manage me on a daily basis, I don’t need to go adding more. Also, a little busy saving the world right now.”
Lark snorted. “There’s always time for nookie. That’s Simon’s motto, though he says it in a more smooth and genteel way than me. I’ll link you into the call in two hours. Bring Faine, he’s needed too. And Dad.”
Helena blew out a breath. “I take it the road show is about to start again?”
Helena and Lark referred to the group of Others who’d been traveling all around the country and addressing humans and Others about legislative and civil rights issues the Others Road Show.
“Yes. Some changes. So be ready.”
“Changes? Lovely. All right. See you in two.”
She got out of bed, realizing she had no change of clothes but her dirty ones from the night before. At least the shirt Faine had given her came to her knees.
As quietly as she could manage, she went into the bathroom to clean up. She kept some disposable toothbrushes and a makeup kit in her bag. Too many nights like last night in the past few months had taught her to be prepared.
But once she’d gotten into the bathroom she noted her clothes from the day before had been laundered and folded, left on the counter with a new toothbrush.
She smiled. He was a good host and a nice man. Lycian. Whatever. He was welcoming and took care of her when she needed it. It was blessedly appreciated.
She managed to clean up into some semblance of humanity with some mascara and lip gloss, rebrushing and braiding her hair before she went out into the main room. She had split ends and was in dire need of a cut. Helena avoided even looking at the wreck of her nails. She usually spent time at her stylist and time at the range. No time for her stylist at all, though sadly, a lot of real-life experience with fight preparedness of late.