by Ким Харрисон
My blood pounded. To lay there and wait for them to pass us had been one of the most frightening things I'd ever done. The jays' noise went soft, and I exhaled, started to pant.
Waiting for Jenks, my thoughts returned to the soft sureness the invading Weres had shown. Their sly hesitancy made the stark brutality of the three packs I had just escaped stand out all the more. Weres weren't savage—they just weren't—and I felt a spike of worry remembering the ugly ferocity of them ringing me. It had been more than them wanting to see a fight. They had been like a different species, younger and more dangerous, lacking the control that the alphas gave them. The trouble a cocky Were pack in Cincy could get into was enough to give me the shivers. The only reason Inderlanders and humans could coexist was because everyone knew their place in the social order.
I was so intent on my thoughts that I all but barked in surprise when Jenks dropped out of the tree above me.
"Holy crap," he whispered, eyes dancing. "I was sure that one saw you. Damn, that deer stinks worse than a fairy's ass-wipe. Let's get out of here."
I couldn't agree more, and leaving my disturbing thoughts about the strength Weres found in packing up, I crawled from my shelter, leaping over Nick in my haste. His eyes flashed open and he came up on an elbow after seeing Jenks, leaves falling to hide the deer's glassy eye. "I fell asleep," he said, sounding ashamed. "Sorry."
"We're behind their line." Jenks didn't offer to help him stand, and I waited while Nick slowly gained his feet using the snag as support. His hands were swollen and there was a soft sheen of moisture on some of the burns as they oozed, bits of leaf chips stuck to them. I whined at Jenks to be nicer, but he wouldn't look at me, moving to play vanguard to the road.
I tried to find evidence of the invading Weres' passage as we went, seeing nothing. Nick stumbled behind me, stinking of dead deer, and I tried to pick a way that would be easy for him. His breathing grew labored as the forest thinned and we came out onto the road. A quick dart across and the forest closed in again.
Jenks was nearly silent to my wolf hearing, and I was pretty quiet myself. Nick tried, but every misplaced step brought a stumbling snapping of twigs and leaves. Being barefoot didn't help, and I was wondering why we hadn't taken someone's boots. After a few moments I trotted to Jenks, giving the pixy a look I tried to make meaningful before I loped away to make sure no one was nearby. Sound didn't travel as well as one might think in the woods, and as long as no one was close, Nick could make all the noise he wanted.
"Rache," Jenks hissed as I trotted off. "You playing scout?" he guessed, and I bobbed my head in an unwolflike manner. Nick came even with him, panting. He leaned against a dead tree, which promptly snapped with the sound of a gunshot.
While Jenks cursed him in thinly veiled disgust, I slunk through the brush, starting a sweep to the left when I couldn't hear Nick stumbling about anymore. Somewhere ahead of us was our scuba gear. Maybe we could hide out on Round Island. Unless by some miracle Marshal was still there. I prayed he wasn't, not wanting to have to make that choice.
Jenks and Nick's forward progress was maybe a third of mine, and it wasn't long before I had made a complete circuit and found nothing. I started a back-and-forth pattern before them, one ear on their progress, one on the forest ahead. Sooner than expected the green light filtering through the leaves brightened and I heard the sound of what seemed surf. But my heart almost stopped. I realized that the hiss of what I had thought surf was radio static.
"Their radio silence is continued," a voice said, and I froze, one paw lifted as I slowly crouched, all of my muscles protesting. In the background were sporadic thumps echoing against water. I was sure this was where we came in and not the marina. And Brett had said they hadn't found our boat, which meant they hadn't found the scuba gear either. It must be the six boats we had heard about. Great. Just great. Out of the frying pan and into government control.
"They haven't regained him," a higher, masculine voice said through a radio. "The third air tank and gear says she's probably headed right for you. Move the boats behind the curve of the shore and keep watch. With any luck, they'll walk right in on you. If you retrieve him, don't wait. Move out and radio from the water."
"Aye, sir," the Were said, and the radio retreated to a hiss.
Damn it, I thought. They had seen the tanks from the water and landed right where we had to leave. They knew everything the island Weres did, having listened in to their efforts to regain us. Someone else wanted Nick too. Just what the devil was this thing?
I tried not to pant, my head weaving as I attempted to spot them. I caught a glimpse of a green outback hat and a clean-shaven face. The noise behind them became loud with decisions being made, and I got scared. Slowly I backed away, carefully putting my feet down until I couldn't hear voices anymore. Turning tail, I made a beeline to Jenks.
I found them together, Jenks looking marginally more accommodating as he held Nick's elbow and helped him over downed sticks. Nick moved like an eighty-year-old man, head down and struggling for balance. Jenks heard me and brought them to a stop. "Trouble?" he mouthed.
I nodded, and Nick groaned, looking desperate behind his beard.
"Shut up," Jenks whispered, and I shifted my sore front paw nervously.
"Show me," Jenks said, and leaving Nick to fend for himself, I led him to my spot. Jenks's motions grew slower, almost seductive, as the brush grew thicker at the edge of the island, until he eased into a crouch beside a tree at the edge of the brush.
I settled in beside the large pixy, panting as I relished the cooler air coming off the water. "Marshal is gone," Jenks said, his viewpoint higher than mine. "Good man. There're four Weres with semiautomatics…. That might be a Were in fur in the shadow of that tree. In any case, our gear is gone. Probably on one of the boats." His eyes squinted. "Tink's panties, if I was myself, I could just flit over and see, or get them to shoot themselves, or stab them in the eye with a thorn. How do you do this, Rache, being the same size as everyone?"
My teeth parted and I gave him a canine grin.
Jenks adjusted his weight, eyes fixed on the peaceful beach littered with boats drawn up onto the rocky shore. Two men were standing guard while two more prepared to move the first boat out. "I have an idea," he whispered. "You go over to that pile of break-wall rock, and when they're looking at you, I'll circle to come up behind them and whack them a good one."
His eyes were glinting, and while I wasn't keen on the looseness of the plan, I did like his confidence in it. And since we didn't have much of a choice, I flicked my ears.
"Good," Jenks whispered. "Get wet before they see you so you look black, not red."
Giving me a smile that made him look like he was plotting to steal the teacher's apple, not a boat from four Weres with semiautomatics, Jenks dropped back to tell Nick the plan. I headed out, skirting the brush line. My pulse quickened. I didn't like being a decoy, but since I could probably cross the beach in four seconds, coming to Jenks's aid wouldn't be hard.
My knees went wobbly at the expanse of stony beach between me and the surf line. The sun was sparkling on the water, and the waves looked formidable past the slight protection of the inlet. Two Weres with weapons were facing the forest, while two more readied to move the first boat, confident they would hear anyone coming from the water long before they were close enough to be a threat. They were right.
A last slow breath, and I trotted out, walking right into the cold water and rolling. Immediately I lost my need to pant, the water freezing without Marshal's amulet. My first feeling that having this second faction of Weres seeing our gear was bad luck shifted to possibly good luck. Nick couldn't survive water this cold, and now Jenks and I would only have to take out five people, not whatever they had at the marina waiting for us.
There was an attention-getting yap, and I swung my head up, going still as a startled wolf might. But I would have frozen anyway. Five people were watching me, four with weapons and one with teeth. I think it was
this last one that scared me the most. Damn, he was big.
My pulse jackhammered. I had nowhere to go but the woods, and if I was recognized as being more than a wolf, they would be on me in seconds. Fortunately, their expressions were curious, not suspicious.
A small movement behind them evolved into Jenks, and I fought with my instincts to watch him, instead pricking my ears and staring at them as if wondering if they were going to throw me the meat from their picnic lunch.
The men were talking softly, their hands loose on their weapons. Two wanted to lure me closer with food, and they told the one in fur to back off before he scared me.
Idiots, I thought, sparing them no pity when Jenks fell on them from behind. Screaming wildly, he swung his leaf-born stick and bludgeoned the first into unconsciousness before the rest even knew they were under attack. I sprang into movement, feeling like I was in molasses until I was free of the water. Jenks was a blur as he fought, but it was the Were in fur that I was worried about, and I ran across the rocky beach, flinging myself at his hindquarters.
Even now they didn't get it, and he turned with a yelp, surprised to find me on him.
Snarling, I fell away, hackles raised. Giving a short bark of realization, he sprang forward, ears back. Holy shit, he was huge, almost four times my current weight. Spine protesting, I skittered back, my only goal to remain out from between his teeth.
Immediately I knew I was in trouble. I couldn't put any distance between us. Pam had fought like a choreographed dancer. This guy was military, and I was way outclassed. Fear slipped into me, and I shifted directions erratically, zigzagging across the rocky beach, my bruised foot slipping on the smooth stones. A great paw hit me and I went sprawling.
Adrenaline pulsed, and I yipped as he fell on me. On my back, I clawed at his face, struggling to wiggle out. His breath was hot and his tongue was tattooed with a clover.
"Enough!" Jenks shouted, but neither of us paid any attention until a short burst of gunfire sent him jerking off me.
Panting, I flipped to my feet. Three men were unconscious, bleeding about their heads. A fourth looked sullen but beaten soundly. Jenks stood alone. The sun shone on his black tights and blond curls, and the semiautomatic in his hands gave his Peter Pan pose some threat.
"Nick!" he yelled, hefting the weapon. "Get out here. I need you to watch them for a sec. Think you can do that, crap for brains?"
The two Weres tensed when Nick wobbled out, but at Jenks's threat, they remained still. They shifted again when Jenks handed Nick his weapon, glancing among themselves as Nick held it with markedly less proficiency. Faces ugly, they settled back, clearly waiting.
With that gunfire, we had only minutes until all hell broke loose, and while Nick held them at a muscle-fatigued, shaking standstill, Jenks took the spark plugs from all but one boat, throwing them into the water with all the weapons he could find.
"Rache?" he said, gesturing from the boat he had chosen, and I willingly jumped onto it, nails skittering on the fiberglass deck. Slipping, I fell into the cockpit and the fake grass carpet. Our gear and wet suits were a pleasant surprise. I hadn't been looking forward to finding out what their loss would have done to my credit card balance. Marshal would be pleased.
Nick was next, wading out to the side and handing Jenks the weapon before lurching over the side. Cracked lip between his teeth, he cranked the engine as the requests for information coming from the radio on the beach grew intense.
Still in the water, Jenks pushed the boat out with one hand, keeping the weapon trained on them with the other. My mouth dropped when he flung himself up into a blackflip to land on the bow of the boat. The semiautomatic never lost its aim. The two Weres blinked but didn't move. "What, by Cerberus, are you?" one asked, clearly shocked.
"I'm Jenks!" he called back, clearly in an expansive mood, catching his balance when Nick revved the engine. Jenks turned the near fall into a graceful motion, slipping into the cockpit to stand beside me, weapon still pointed. Nick idled us around, then jammed the lever full throttle. Staggering, I caught my balance. Jenks doffed his hat to the watching Weres and laughed, throwing his weapon into our wake.
We sped away as the first of the returning Weres came boiling out of the forest, all snapping teeth and barking voices. Someone was already in the water looking for the spark plugs. We had done it—for the moment. All that was left was to make it across the straits without swamping ourselves in the heavy waves and get lost in the general populace. Then there was the matter of how to get Nick safe. And me, seeing that my cover was blown and every Were east of the Mississippi knew I had Nick—who knew where the statue was, whatever the statue was.
I squinted into the wind, my breath escaping in a doggy huff when I realized Nick's rescue was only starting. What could he have possibly stolen that was worth all this?
Jenks reach across and tunked the gas lever to slow us down. "How did you know how to use that weapon?" Nick asked him, his voice rough and his hands shaking on the wheel. He was squinting in the bright light as if he hadn't seen it for days. He probably hadn't.
Jenks grinned as we jostled over the waves, hitting every one wrong. His bandage was falling off, but his mood was both exhilarated and triumphant. "Ah-nold," he said, hitting an Austrian accent hard, and I barked in laughter.
I watched the island retreat behind us, relieved no one was following—yet. It would only take minutes to lose ourselves in the light boat traffic, maybe fifteen to reach the mainland. We would ditch the boat, keeping the gear to return to Marshal when we could. I didn't care if we had to take it to Cincy with us, he was going to get his stuff back.
Jenks tunked the speed down some more, and Nick tunked it back up. I couldn't blame him, but the waves were bouncing us around like a piece of popcorn. Jenks handled the jostling better than me despite my four feet against his two, and he started rummaging, opening every panel and lifting every seat. It was his pixy curiosity, and feeling ill, I wobbled to Nick, put my head into his lap and gave him the sad-puppy-dog-eyes look, hoping he'd slow our pace. Burn my britches if it didn't work, and smiling for the first time since I'd found him, he dropped a thin hand to my head before he decreased the speed.
"Sorry, Ray-ray," he murmured over the noise of the engine. "I can't…I can't go back." He swallowed hard and his breath quickened. "But you did it. Thank you. I owe you one. I owe you my life." Hands trembling, he met my eyes, his grip on the plastic-coated wheel clenching and releasing. "I thought you were dead. You have to believe me."
I did. He wouldn't have left that rose in the jelly-jar vase if he hadn't.
Jenks made a call of discovery. "Anyone hungry?" he shouted over the wind and engine. "I found their food stores."
Nick jerked. "I'm starved," he said, all but panicked as he looked over his shoulder.
Jenks's first ugly face emptied when he saw Nick's eyes. "Yeah," he said softly, gesturing for Nick to move. "I guess you are. You eat. I'll drive."
I jumped up onto the copilot's chair to get out of the way, and Nick stood unsteadily, gripping the boat and shaking with the thumping of the waves. He wobbled to the back bench, taking a moment to arrange the wool blanket Jenks had found about his shoulders before settling himself and ripping open energy bars with his teeth since his nails were torn to the quick.
Jenks took his place behind the wheel. He turned the boat slightly to the bridge, and the ride smoothed out. I watched the play of emotions over his smooth face. I knew he was as mad as a jilted troll at the altar that Nick had led his son astray, but seeing Nick beaten, abused, and so weak he could hardly open that stupid wrapper, it was hard not to feel sorry for him.
Just wanting Jenks to lighten up a little, I put my head in his lap and peered up at him.
"Don't look at me like that, Rache," Jenks said, his eyes scanning the approaching shoreline for the run-down marina we had planned out earlier as a possible landfall. "I saw you pull it on Nick, and it doesn't work on me. I have fifty-four kids, and it won't w
ork."
Sighing heavily, I arched my wolf eyebrows. Sure enough, he glanced down.
"Tink's panties," he muttered. "Okay. I'll be nicer. But as soon as he's better, I'm going to punch him."
Pleased, I pulled my head up and gave him a lick on his cheek.
"Don't do that," he muttered, wiping the moisture away. But his embarrassment was tinged with understanding.
I'd be content with that, but before I could teeter back and see if Nick would open one of those government-issue energy bars for me, Jenks stood, one hand on the wheel, the other holding his cap to his head. "Ah, Rache?" he said over the roar of the engine and the brush of wind. "Your eyes might be better than mine. Is that Ivy on the dock?"
Seventeen
Squinting into the wind, I sat on the copilot's chair watching the decades-old rusted gas pumps on the dock become clearer. Ivy was standing with the sun glinting on her short black hair, leaning casually against a piling. She was in jeans and a long sweater, but with the boots and shades, she managed to look svelte as well as ticked. A frumpy older man was next to her, and worry went through me at what had gone so wrong in Cincinnati that she had to come and get me. Unless she's here because she thinks I can't handle this.
The man beside her looked both nervous and excited in his faded overalls, holding himself a careful five feet away as the breeze shifted his plaid coat open to the wind. They probably didn't get many living vamps up here, and he was clearly more curious than wary.
Jenks decreased our speed, and I could hear the sounds from the shore. My emotions were swinging from one extreme to the other. If Ivy had come because she didn't think I could do this, I was going to be pissed—even if it wasn't going that well. If she was up here because there was a problem back home, I was going to be worried. I'd thought she couldn't even leave Cincinnati, so whatever it was, it must be bad.