“Me cage?” I finished for her, glaring.
She nodded, eyes popping open, the smoke returning instantly. “What I’ve done will keep you safe, but not for much longer. What you do next will determine how much time you have.”
“And I’m guessin’ ye won’t be fillin’ me in on what that means?” I asked, sarcastically.
“I cannot…but I can see you will need help. You’ve used the bars of your cage like a weapon,” she said, shaking her head, “which is something no one could have anticipated. Unfortunately, I believe you will do so again without power to call your own.”
Somehow, I knew exactly what she meant. Although I’d always thought of my field as a shield of sorts, protecting me from the things that went bump in the night, it had never felt like one. You could depend on a shield. You could see it. It had mass and a breaking point. But still, I’d tried to use my field like one—taking on beings with far greater power under the assumption they’d be reduced to my level. But—if my field really was a cage after all—what was locked inside?
“And what power would that be?” I asked.
“Here,” the woman said, removing a silver bracelet I hadn’t noticed dangling from her wrist. She held it to her mouth and breathed on it, the way you might to remove a smudge on glass. The bracelet shone as if it had been thrust into a furnace. Before I could ask what she was about to do, she snatched my arm and slid the bracelet over my hand. I cringed, prepared for it to burn, but it was surprisingly cool. Three charms hung loose at equidistant points.
“Ravens?” I asked, studying the tiny silver birds.
“Crows,” she replied, tersely.
“What’s it do?” I asked.
“It does what it was designed to do. Save you from yourself,” she said, before pivoting to walk away. “Beware loosing the third crow,” she called. “The moment you do, they will find you.”
“Who will find me?” I yelled after her.
She floated away, back turned.
“Wait, please! Can ye at least tell me are ye me ma…or somethin’ else?” I asked, desperately. I knew how pathetic I sounded—like a little girl calling out for her mother—but, in a way, that’s exactly what I was.
“Your mother is dead,” the woman replied, so softly I could barely hear her. A moment later, the floor gave out beneath me.
I couldn’t have cared less.
Chapter 27
I came to and found Starlight tucked up next to me, napping, his furry head tucked up against me, using my breast as a pillow. Night had settled in and I could see the moon floating high above us. I considered thumping the bear upside his head, but decided against it; my body ached, I’d sweated through my clothes, and I honestly didn’t feel like picking a fight.
Instead I sat up, groaning, my gut on fire. Starlight woke and rubbed at his beady little eyes, yawning, his tongue curling up into his mouth in the process; I had to admit, when he wasn’t talking, he made a pretty damn adorable bear. I reached down and plucked at my shirt, grimacing as I peeled it off the clammy skin of my chest. Guess I’d have to change again.
I tapped my shirt.
Nothing happened.
I frowned and tapped it again. Then my jacket. My pants. Shoes. Still nothing. I groaned again and flopped back onto the ground. Starlight loomed over me a moment later, his face obscuring the moon overhead. “So,” he said, “how’d it go?”
“A woman with me ma’s face ruined me magical clothes,” I said.
He blinked. “Well, that’s a new one.”
“And I saw Jack the Ripper…turns out he was Jack Frost, all along.”
Starlight eyed the wildflowers dubiously. “Maybe ingesting them wasn’t the best idea…”
“But at least she gave me a bracelet,” I said, raising my arm. The sleeve of my jacket slid down my wrist, the silver bracelet exposed.
Starlight took a startled step back. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, his little teeth bared.
“I told ye, the woman who guards the windows gave it to me,” I said, surprised by his reaction. It was just a bracelet, after all—nowhere near as nifty as shapeshifting clothes. I felt another wave of sadness hit me as I mourned all the outfits that would never be.
Starlight padded over on all fours, sniffing the air near the bracelet. He inched closer, then, before I could pull away, licked the metal surface. He sneezed and fell back on his furry ass, pawing at his nose like a bug had flown in it. I, meanwhile, did my best to clean his saliva off my psychedelic consolation prize. “Serves ye right, ye weirdo,” I scolded. “I mean, lickin’ someone’s jewelry? Who does that?”
“What did he lick?” I heard Claire call out from the edge of the grove.
“None of your business,” I replied.
“So, she wouldn’t get naked, but she’s letting him lick her?” I heard Claire ask someone, probably Callie.
“I heard that, ye trollop,” I muttered, clambering to my feet. I wobbled a little, but followed the sound of her voice to the edge of the grove. I had to rest, however, before attempting to climb over the rocks; my body was rebelling, clearly tired of putting up with my shit. A hand descended into my line of sight, and I followed it up to find Callie, offering to help me up and over. “Are you alright?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I thought about it. “Maybe later. Some day. It’s still a little raw, and I’ve got shit to do.”
“Oh? Like what?”
I took her hand and scrambled up and over the rocks. Claire and Starlight were talking a dozen feet away, oblivious to the two of us, although I caught Starlight looking my way every so often, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. I avoided eye contact, choosing instead to study Callie, who seemed calmer than when I’d seen her last—like she’d made up her mind about something.
“I’m goin’ to fetch Christoff, or Alexei, or whatever name he wants to go by,” I said in response to her earlier question, “and we’re goin’ to save his wife. Then I’m goin’ after Jack Frost before he murders anyone else in me town.”
“Jack Frost,” Callie said, as if double-checking she’d heard me right.
“Aye.”
“Jack Frost is murdering people in Boston?” she asked.
“All over, actually,” I replied. “From one coast to the other…although, I t’ink he skipped over Kansas City. And St. Louis.” I scowled, realizing there may have been some merit in declaring ownership over a whole city; the fucker hadn’t dropped any bodies in Nate and Callie’s territory, after all.
“Do you want help?” Callie asked.
“Aye,” I replied, immediately. “Ye can get me a change of clothes.”
Callie looked relieved not to have to leap into the fray alongside me, then concerned. “What happened to your…” she tapped her own clothes, making a goofy face.
I sighed. “I’m pretty sure they only worked because me field was all out of whack. But, now that it’s fixed, I’m pretty sure that’s over with.”
Callie took a long look at me and draped her arm around my shoulder, tucking her head in next to mine, our hair intertwining like hot blood on fresh snow. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said. “The next time you come for a visit, I’ll take you to see my tailors…they’ll hook you up.” The mischievous twinkle in her eyes didn’t lift my spirits.
I nodded, morosely.
Claire came upon us like that, still huddled together, and frowned. “Everything alright?” she asked.
“Quinn’s magic clothes stopped working,” Callie explained.
Claire’s eyes went wide, then her face fell. “Oh, honey…it’s okay,” she said, coming in for a hug.
And I let her.
Chapter 28
I woke to a text from Jimmy the next morning which sent me scrambling off Callie’s couch, waking Christoff instantly. He and I had stayed over at Callie’s apartment the night before, trying to get at least a couple hours of sleep before heading back to
Boston to track down Christoff’s wife. Claire had decided to stay behind and play nurse with Kenai.
Because he needed her.
Christoff tracked me with his eyes as I paced the room but said nothing. He had kept to himself the night before, acquiescing to my request that we get some rest before heading back to Boston to save his wife; I think he could see how worn out I was. That, or he didn’t want to pick a fight, considering we still hadn’t hashed out his having lied to me for the past several years.
Sadly, it didn’t seem like we’d have that kind of time.
“Callie,” I called, after rereading the text message Jimmy had sent, “I t’ink I need ye to drop us off at the hospital.”
Callie poked her head out of her bedroom, eyebrow raised, her hair a fluffy mess. “Your stomach still bothering you that bad? I have a bathroom, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, me stomach is feelin’ better. But Christoff and I need to get back. We have…unfinished business, at the hospital,” I said, deciding it would take too long to explain, and I was in a hurry; according to Jimmy’s clipped and very uninformative text message, one of Jeffries’ team was in critical condition at Boston Memorial.
Christoff’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue, which I appreciated. Honestly, we probably could have avoided the hospital altogether and gone straight after the werebears who’d attacked him and his family, but Jeffries and his team had put their necks on the line to protect me and find Christoff.
We owed them.
“Alright. But did you want to change first?” Callie asked. “You might be a little warm in the snow gear. Plus, it smells.”
I caught Christoff nodding and glared at him. “Aye,” I replied, finally, with a sigh. “D’ye have anythin’ that’ll fit me?”
Callie grinned.
Christoff and I arrived via Gateway a half hour later. Callie waved and closed it behind us, leaving us in the dark confines of a hospital’s storage closet. I reached for the handle, but found the doorway blocked by Christoff, whose face was invisible with the light at his back. I felt more than saw him fold his arms over his chest.
“Quinn, we need to talk,” he said.
“We don’t have time,” I said, trying to edge past the much shorter, but much broader man.
“This is only time we have,” he argued.
“Ye don’t owe me anythin’, Christoff. Or, should I say, Alexei?” I hissed, sounding more hurt than I’d intended, inadvertently banging my shoulder against a shelf as I folded my arms over my chest.
A box fell at our feet, the glass inside shattering in the ensuing silence. We held our breath, waiting for someone to come yank us out of the closet and demand what we were doing there, but no one did. Christoff spoke first. “Please, do not call me by that name,” Christoff insisted. “It comes with bad memories. Things I am not proud of. This is who I am, now. Christoff, the bar manager. Not Alexei, the killer.”
“Were ye ever goin’ to tell me the truth?” I asked, knowing it was an unfair question.
But I couldn’t be rational all the time.
“No,” Christoff admitted. “If they had not come, I would have told no one. Ever. In this country, only my wife knows what I was before. No one else.”
I frowned, seeing an obvious flaw in that assertion. “So how did they find ye?” I asked.
Christoff shook his head. “This I do not know. But this does not matter, now. What matters is I get my Elena back. The things they will do to her if I do not come looking…I do not wish to think about.”
“I t’ink you’re forgettin’ an important detail,” I said. “I’m comin’, too. Not for your sake, either, “I clarified, “but for hers. And because no one shoots at me and gets to walk away.”
“It will be dangerous. Very much dangerous,” Christoff countered. “Before, when you and your friends come for me, they let you live. They wished to draw me out of hiding, that is all. Had they wanted you all dead, they would have made it so.”
With a sinking feeling, I realized Christoff might have a point. Granted, the Sickos were a tough bunch, but dodging that many bullets and making it out alive? I mean, sure, I had a Valkyrie in Valhalla-mode shielding me, but the odds of making it out without so much as a flesh wound were pretty astronomical. I knew better than most that professionals didn’t leave loose ends, which meant—if Christoff was right—we hadn’t gotten lucky, we’d been let go.
“How many of ‘em are there?” I asked.
Christoff’s shrug was hardly visible. “This I do not know. Once, there were many. But as years go by, less and less. They will not have all come, however. Some will stay behind to protect the homeland.”
“Protect it from what?” I asked. It finally occurred to me that he was talking about a government-sanctioned force of Freaks—something I’d never even thought possible, let alone heard of. Especially since it meant someone in Russia’s top brass knew Freaks existed…or was a Freak themselves.
Was Vladimir Putin really a werebear?
“Protect it from all things,” Christoff replied. “Some days this means fight in wars, some days fight insurgents, some days become insurgent.” He shrugged again.
“Wait, so ye were a spy? With that accent?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
He stared at me for a long moment, and then let out an even longer sigh, relaxing his shoulders. “Aye. I speak seven languages, ye know,” Christoff said, in a freakishly perfect imitation of my accent. No more of his broken English. Had that all been… a ruse? Even that had been a lie?
“Of course, ye do, ye fuckin’ parrot,” I muttered. “Well, I’m comin’ along anyway. I don’t care how many of ‘em there are. Just because ye lied to me doesn’t mean your wife should suffer havin’ to see your ugly mug first t’ing.”
Christoff grunted. “I am sure she will be pleased to see you.” He reached out, resting his hand on my arm. “Quinn, I am sorry I lied to you, and got you involved in this. Please, forgive me. And thank you for help.”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, but the apology seemed both sincere and heartfelt. “Alright, I forgive ye,” I replied, finally. “Although, ye should probably t’ank Dobby for comin’ to get me in the first place, or I’d never have come lookin’. He was worried about ye.”
“Dobby?” Christoff said, surprised. “Why would he be worried? I say goodbye to him before I left for safehouse.”
I slowly turned to stare at Christoff, a faint buzzing sound in my ears, as if my brain was doing a hard reboot. Dobby had…already known what happened with Christoff? Then why the runaround? Before I could dwell on that, however, I heard the door handle jiggle.
Someone had found us, after all.
“I thought I smelled magic!” Hilde hissed as she threw open the door and flipped on the lights. Her eyes widened in shock, either at finding someone she knew behind the door, or at finding a man nearly old enough to be my father with his hand on my arm in a dark, intimate space.
“Oy, I heard ye were here,” I offered, raising my phone as explanation, hoping she’d play it cool and pretend like this had never happened.
Instead, Hilde snarled, grabbed me by the front of the jacket Callie had loaned me, and shoved me up against the wall. Hard. Then, before I could so much as cuss her out, she let go, wiping her hands on her pant legs as though she’d touched something repulsive. “Oh, bulging thighs of Thor, what are you wearing?”
I saw Christoff silently repeating Hilde’s curse with a confused look on his face; I left him to it.
I winced a little as I came off the wall, adjusting the horrendously orange faux-leather jacket with a scowl. According to Callie, the jacket was the only thing in her closet that would fit someone with arms and a torso as long as mine—she’d worn it a few Halloweens back, part of a slutty traffic cone costume that included nothing but the jacket and an orange party hat.
Super classy, I know.
“What the hell was that shove about?” I demanded, ignoring her question. Ordinarily,
I’d simply have come back swinging, but between my battered body and the fact that I wasn’t entirely sure I could go toe-to-toe with a Valkyrie to begin with, I figured talking things out might be for the best. It would also decrease the chances of us getting booted out of the hospital; several staffers and patients were eyeing us after Hilde’s little stunt.
“Is this talk we should be having here?” Christoff asked, poking his head out of the closet.
Hilde whirled on Christoff and charged into the closet, pressing him up against a row of shelves with one very shapely forearm. “Are you one of them?” she demanded, arm raised, the tip of her sword appearing inches from Christoff’s throat.
“I am not,” Christoff said, too calmly.
“Hilde,” I hissed, realizing one of the nurses had broken off to make a phone call—probably to security. I ducked inside the closet behind the Valkyrie, shutting the door before someone reported seeing a woman with a fucking sword on the loose in the hospital. “Put the weapon away!”
A shield appeared in Hilde’s other hand, and she swung it out at me in an attempt to smack me with the flat of it and send me flying. I braced myself for the blow, but her shield disappeared the instant it collided with me, leaving her arm bare and unadorned. I caught her forearm with my left hand and dug my nails in, hard—a little payback for the shove.
“Hilde,” I said, leaning in to whisper as I slid my right hand up and over her shoulder, “I don’t t’ink you’ll be needin’ that.” I briefly tapped the pommel of Hilde’s sword and watched it vanish into thin air. Hilde froze, like a startled cat, prepared to run or fight as necessary. I stepped away. “Let’s walk and talk,” I suggested, opening the door once more. I motioned Christoff to join me, which he did, excusing himself as he crept past the overly aggressive agent.
Hilde’s arms fell to her sides, but I could tell she was still on edge. “How did you do that?” she whispered, finally, sounding very troubled.
Old Fashioned_A Temple Verse Series Page 17