“Please, come in.” I waved them farther in so I could close the door. When I turned, I saw the slight bulge under Samuel’s jacket at his waist. If he wasn’t keeping his arms so rigid in front of him, the jacket would hang and the gun would be better concealed. “Everything okay, Jameson? I mean, what’s up with G.I. Joe over here?”
“Samuel?” Jameson glanced over this shoulder. “He’s my Third. My Second was otherwise occupied tonight.”
“Guy’s gotta have a life, right?” Kyle said with a sly smile. Kyle held out his hand and Jameson took it, the two men gripping the other’s shoulder with their free hands before letting go.
“So I hear you’ve had a visit from our peaceful, loving friends,” Jameson said as he turned toward the kitchen and walked over to examine the damage.
“Kyle seems to think so,” I said, following.
Ronnie had managed to clean the floor and was storing the broom and dustpan away when we walked in. She turned around, tucking behind her ear the one long red curl that had escaped her high bun. When she lifted her brown eyes, a smile automatically forming to greet my guests, she stopped dead. Her eyes fell on Samuel, and I watched her whole body freeze for a moment. It was over in an instant, and she recovered smoothly, her smile coming back as a deep crimson flush colored her face.
“Hello,” she managed, her voice rough. She had to cough to clear her throat.
I stole a glance at Samuel and saw that he too had a strange look on his face. His eyes, which he had been so careful to keep clear and straight, were locked on Ronnie’s face. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He looked like some hopeful puppy staring at a cookie that was just out of reach.
“Ronnie,” I said slowly, creeping around the trio of wolves to come to her side. “You remember Jameson. He helped me with Malachi. This is Samuel, Jameson’s Third.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Ronnie said, not even acknowledging Jameson. She seemed to realize her slight, and she blinked rapidly, shook her head, and tried not to giggle. “Jameson, very nice to see you.”
“Veronica,” Jameson said with a nod.
His eyes flitted to mine, and I gave a very small shrug. I wasn’t a werewolf with heightened senses, but even I felt the electricity zipping between witch and Were.
“Ronnie, please,” Ronnie said, her face flashing a deeper shade of vermilion.
“Do you need a cold drink or something?” I whispered to her.
Ronnie looked at me like I was speaking Elfish. “Oh, oh yeah, drinks,” she said quickly, grabbing hold of the distraction. “I’ll make us drinks.”
“If my glasses haven’t shattered,” I muttered as I turned back to the wolves.
“Yes, this is very unfortunate,” Jameson said, picking up on the change of subject. “Very lucky you weren’t hurt.”
“Oh, I got a nice face full of pepper spray.” I touched my cheek, feeling the lingering sting.
“Pepper spray and a homemade bomb? Yes.” Jameson nodded, examining the scorch marks on the cabinets. “Yes, this was P.E.A.C.E. An initiation if you ask me.”
“Initiation?” I asked.
“When new members want to join, they spend time as lackeys, passing out flyers, organizing rallies, sending out mailers, all that crap,” Kyle said. “But when they’re ready to move up in ranks, become full-fledged members, they have to pass an initiation.”
I guided the men over to the kitchen table, now with only three chairs. Samuel stood behind Jameson, so the rest of us sat while Ronnie continued to busy herself with making drinks.
“P.E.A.C.E. is very careful to keep up a certain image with the public,” Jameson said. “They don’t want to be known as a militant terrorist organization, which they are. So when people join their group, they have different levels of commitment to go through before they prove themselves trustworthy enough to know the real purpose.”
“It’s in their name,” I said, pulling one foot up into my seat. “You know, ‘eradication and cleansing’? What do people think that means?”
“Right, but they try to hide the means to those ends,” Jameson said. “So if you want to prove yourself, they give you a small but challenging task to prove you’ll do whatever they want.”
“Like kill a witch?” I offered, and Jameson and Kyle nodded solemnly.
“Have you heard the reports of an increasing number of runaway teens in the human community?” Jameson asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
Ronnie came out then, setting the tray of ice water and sliced lemons on the table between us. Jameson and Kyle each took a glass, but Samuel remained in his statue-like pose, not even glancing at the tray. I caught him stealing a look at my friend before his eyes were forward again though. Ronnie took a glass of ice water and squeezed a slice of lemon over it before standing behind me, resting her hip against the side of my chair.
“Well, a lot of people are starting to whisper that maybe supernaturals are actually kidnapping these kids,” Jameson continued.
“Kyle mentioned that,” I said.
“My pack is getting a lot of heat about it.”
“Why?”
“Teenagers have always liked running with the pack.” Jameson shrugged.
“Our pups like to street race, throw woodland parties, you know. All that crap any teen would want to join in on.” Kyle took a glass of water and three slices of lemon. Sitting back in his chair, he rested his right ankle on his left knee, totally at ease.
“And unfortunately, our male pups tend to attract young human females,” Jameson said.
Kyle shook his head. “I think it’s the female pups attracting the young human males if you ask me.”
“Kyle,” Jameson warned.
“Why?” Ronnie asked, earning a head shake from Jameson.
Kyle answered her anyway. “Our pups live a fast life. You know, it’s the moon singing to us, our blood rushing. We’re really out there, chasing excitement and danger.” He sipped his water. “We don’t fetter our young like the humans do. We let them live and sow those wild oats because we have hard, and often, short lives. Young human males like how fast and wild our female pups are.”
“At any rate,” Jameson said, his voice holding an edge of annoyance, “the P.E.A.C.E. people are starting to blame us for these rising numbers of missing teenagers.”
“But it’s not you,” I said.
Jameson shook his head. “But I think I might know who it is.”
“Who?” Ronnie and I asked together.
“During the last cycle, a new pack came to town, a gypsy pack,” Jameson said.
At the word “gypsy,” Kyle made a rude noise. He tried to cover it quickly by taking a long swallow of water.
“Lead by a young Beta by the name of Tollis.”
“A Beta?” I felt my brows come together. “I thought only Alphas could lead.”
“Only the strongest lead,” Jameson said. “If a Beta is the strongest in a group, then he or she is the leader. I am an Alpha. This pup is no Alpha.”
I felt the shift in the air as Jameson’s power lifted inside him, sending chills up my arms.
“We have a few Alphas in our pack,” Kyle said, surprising me.
“Yes,” Jameson agreed. “Kyle happens to be an Alpha.”
“Really?” Ronnie asked, her voice echoing my surprise.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Kyle said as he lifted his chin, feigning indignation.
“But Jameson is your Alpha?” I shook my head, trying to follow.
“He is,” Kyle agreed. “Not all Alphas are leaders. I definitely do not want to be a leader.”
“How do you not have challenges, like, all the time?” I asked.
“We do,” Jameson said. “Not all the time, but enough. It happens.”
“How often?” Ronnie asked.
“A couple times a year,” Kyle answered.
“And how long have you been Pack Leader?” Ronnie asked.
I knew she was being pushy by asking quest
ions we had no right to ask, but I was so curious I didn’t stop her.
Jameson shared a look with Kyle before he answered. “Fifteen years.”
“So, give or take, you’ve defended your place thirty times?” I glanced at Ronnie and saw the shock I felt reflected back at me in her face.
Jameson nodded as a quiet settled over the room.
“So what about this Tollis?” I prompted, trying to rub away the goose bumps.
“He challenged me.”
“A Beta challenged you?” I was glad I hadn’t had any water because I would have choked on it.
He nodded. “Needless to say, he lost, and I banished him and all his followers from our territory. I welcomed any who wanted to join the pack, as is customary, but Tollis, having challenged me and lost, had to leave. His pack followed him. But they did not go far.”
“What do you mean?”
“They have set up camp just outside the city, just on the other side of the line of my territory. He is too close, but too far for me to lawfully do anything about it.”
“And you think he’s kidnapping human teens? What for?”
“To grow his pack.”
“You mean he’s trying to turn them?” I felt the color drain from my face, and a cold, clammy sensation settled in my stomach. Most Weres were born because to be turned was so violent and dangerous, most died from the process. “Gods.”
“I believe he is planning to grow his pack and use the newly turned wildlings to make a move on my pack, hoping the force of power will overwhelm me and mine,” Jameson said. “But neither I, nor any of mine, can go to his pack to see if I’m right without welcoming another challenge.”
“Uh, Mattie,” Ronnie whispered, her hand going to my shoulder.
“Clearly your friend has puzzled out the second reason I have come here tonight,” Jameson said. “I need your help, Mattie.”
“Oh no, no, no.” I dropped my foot to the ground and held up my hands, shaking my head.
“I recall you promising me an oath of debt,” Jameson said, cocking one dark brow.
My shoulders fell. The bastard was right. When Jameson had helped me cure one of his Weres who’d had a bad reaction to a love spell I’d sold to Joey, I promised Jameson I’d owe him one since he promised not to hold it against the pixie girl.
“Frogs on toast,” I muttered.
“This Tollis is a wild one, Mattie,” Kyle said, his voice no longer light and joking as he leveled me with his deep, dark eyes. “If he is planning to fill his ranks with wildings and he manages to overwhelm us, the whole city will be at risk. He’ll unleash bloodthirsty monsters on everyone, not just us. This is serious.”
“Frogs,” I groaned, pressing my fingers to my eyes. I immediately regretted that as a painful sting shot through my face. I hoped the residual burning would fade sooner rather than later. If I ever got my hands on that prissy little bitch, I would gouge her eyes out.
“Of course, I would pay you for this,” Jameson said, pulling me out of those angry thoughts.
“If it’s a job, then I can turn you down,” I said quickly.
“But you won’t,” Jameson said. “You wouldn’t be an Oathbreaker. We both know that, Mattie.”
“Dude, whatever.” I sighed, slumping back in my chair.
“Tomorrow I will send out a crew of men to take care of your kitchen.” Jameson sat forward in his chair.
I had forgotten that, among his many businesses, Jameson owned a construction company. I glanced at my ruined kitchen and thought about how much of my savings it would cost me to fix it, especially by Frankie’s deadline. I would probably have to kiss that entire twenty-five hundred bucks good-bye, along with the jewels I had left from Jimmy. When I looked at the Alpha wolf, he was watching my face expectantly.
“Do we have an accord?” he asked, holding out his massive hand.
“If I get myself killed going into that camp, I’m coming back to haunt you,” I said, holding out my hand across the table.
“I believe that’s fair,” Jameson answered with a gentle smile. His hand enveloped mine like a baseball glove, and it was warm and dry, like worn leather.
When we shook, I found I had no desire to bind him to his word.
Chapter 5
When I woke the next day, the sun was still up. I couldn’t open my eyes, and for a moment I panicked, having forgotten about the healing poultice I’d put on before falling asleep. I sat on the edge of my bed, my bare toes just brushing against the floor, as I scraped the dry mask from my face. When my nails ran over my skin, it didn’t hurt or burn.
With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, I plodded into the bathroom to examine my face in the mirror. I dropped the ball of gunk in the trash can before I stood in front of the mirror. There were still smears of blackish-green gunk on my face, but beyond that, my skin was back to its usual fair complexion and my eyes were no longer swollen.
“Ugh,” I said, leaning against the sink to get closer to the mirror, turning my face back and forth. “Thank the gods.”
After a scalding shower, I was wrapped in a towel and standing barefoot in front of my kitchen, staring at my warped and melted coffee pot. It had lived on the counter closest to the kitchen table, too close to where Jane Doe had tossed her homemade bomb. The carafe was cracked, just waiting to shatter into a million pieces.
“Frogs,” I swore. “This is gonna be a shit day.”
“Mrrrow,” Artemis agreed, sitting at the edge of the tiny dining area and the kitchen, as if he didn’t want to step on the blackened linoleum.
I realized as I looked for his bowls that they were missing. Whether they’d been blown to bits and swept up with the debris last night or if they had melted like the coffee pot and Ronnie had tossed them out, I couldn’t be sure. But they were gone nonetheless. I dug out two cereal bowls and spilled some cream and dry food into them. Artie stared at the unfamiliar bowls, whiskers twitching suspiciously, before glancing at me.
“I’ll buy you some more bowls tonight, Your Highness, but for now, that’s all I got,” I said, tucking my towel tighter around myself. “Take it or leave it.”
After another twitch of his whiskers, Artie bent forward for his breakfast.
“Spoiled.” I went back into the bedroom, picked up my phone, and punched in Edwin’s number.
“Ms. Kavanagh,” Edwin said by way of greeting.
“Wow,” I said, “you’re a quick one.”
“I had your number programmed into my phone. I take it the potions are ready as promised?”
“I’m afraid not,” I said and cringed at his silence. “I was attacked in my home last night. I had just finished both potions, but before I could get them bottled, the attack happened and ruined them. So basically, I need a little more time to brew them again.”
“You were attacked in your home,” Edwin repeated, but he didn’t sound as though he believed me.
“Yes,” I said a little too forcefully. “Some little piece of P.E.A.C.E. trash sprayed me with pepper spray and set off a bomb in my kitchen.”
“It was P.E.A.C.E.?” That time Edwin sounded as though he believed me.
“I think so.” I fell back to sit on my bed, gripping my towel closed with my other hand.
“All right, Ms. Kavanagh, but we really do need the potions before Saturday.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I can have them brewed tonight and ready by the morning.”
“To be fair, you said part of the reason you were charging so much was for a rush order.”
I held the phone away from my face to glare at it for a moment. “It’s still a rush.”
“And yet late.”
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Two thousand.”
“Wonderful. I can come by at seven to pick up the order.”
I tried not to groan at the idea of still being awake at seven in the morning. “Seven is perfect.” I hoped I sounded sincere enough.
Edwin clicked off, and
I tossed my phone on the bed. There was no point in lamenting the lost five hundred bucks. After all, two thousand was still ten times my normal rate for two difficult potions.
I pushed my wet hair out of my face as I rolled off the bed and headed into the bathroom to finish getting ready. I was applying a final coat of mascara when I heard the knock at the door. I’d managed to dry my hair and get almost fully dressed. I’d gone with dark skinny jeans and a lightweight black sweater, but I was still in my fuzzy purple house slippers. Good enough to answer the door.
I hurried to the door after the second knock, slipping and sliding on the hard wood, but I caught myself on the doorknob before I ate it. On my toes to check the peephole, I saw four burly Weres waiting in the hall. When Jameson had said he’d send guys over the next day, I hadn’t really thought he meant the next actual day. Didn’t construction workers promise the moon only to deliver stale cheese?
“Ms. Kavanagh?” The first Were tipped his head toward me when I opened the door.
He was well over six feet tall with shaggy blond hair. He wore construction-worker chic: plaster-splattered jeans, brown work boots, and a simple white T-shirt. Over his heart was a black paw print with the initials J.M.C. superimposed over it. His three compatriots were all dressed similarly.
“Jameson’s boys, I take it?” I asked, and the first nodded.
“Spence.” He held out one large hand for me to shake.
I welcomed them inside, and like magnets drawn to the destruction, they moved into the kitchen immediately. Spence whistled long and low at the sight of the mess.
“Yeah,” I said, padding up behind them. “I haven’t had a chance to clean out the cabinets because I didn’t think you guys would be here so soon.” I started forward, as if I would empty them all out right then, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.
Samhain (Matilda Kavanagh Book 2) Page 5