by Laura Taylor
More footsteps from out in the foyer, and Mark and Kwan came rushing in, no doubt having heard the commotion. “What’s happened?” Kwan asked.
“The Khuli’s come for another visit,” Baron said with a sigh. “And for what it’s worth, I’m rather curious to meet her. Aside from a short panic during the battle, I haven’t had the chance to talk to her.” He looked around the group with a relaxed nonchalance. “So… who’s coming with me?”
A group of seven shifters crossed the lawn, their footsteps a quick, steady march as they stepped off soft grass and onto ageing leaf litter. Lee heard them coming before she saw them, waiting politely on the far side of the gate. Despite the apparent truce between them, she wasn’t inclined to give them any reason to doubt her, and staying off their property seemed a wise first step.
The group came to a stop a metre or so back from the gate, and Lee took a few steps forward, not crowding them, but close enough for the conversation to be comfortable, rather than shouting across a wide, open space. The male leader had come this time, along with the woman and the assassin, and she was rather glad to have the chance to meet him. This was the man she’d been sent to kill, the one who had inadvertently done an expert job of not giving her the opportunity, and so, in a roundabout way, had led her to the place she was now.
“I’m sorry for the loss of your friends,” she said formally, knowing that several of the shifters had been killed during the battle. She had little experience expressing sympathy to people, but it seemed the appropriate thing to say. “If it’s any consolation, the Noturatii lost over thirty men. It doesn’t bring your friends back, but at least you can know they died for a purpose.”
“That’s still open for debate,” the leader said. “But I don’t think you came here to give us your condolences.”
“No. I come with news, and hopefully some closure for you.” John was here too, and she wondered if she’d ever get to learn his real name. And Drew as well. She caught his eye and offered him a hopeful, if shy smile. He didn’t smile back. “I’ve been monitoring communications from the Noturatii. The official story, from the British division back to headquarters, is that the estate they attacked was the correct one. They’re claiming it as a victory.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “They don’t actually believe that, do they?”
Lee shook her head. “No. But if head office believes it, that limits what the British division can do. Unless you go out of your way to attract attention, they’ll have a very difficult time finding an excuse to come looking for you again.”
Jack Miller was there as well, she noted with an unexpected swell of pride. She’d personally killed two soldiers who had tried to shoot him during the shifters’ retreat from the battle, and she was glad to see he’d survived after she’d been forced to leave off following him and attend to more urgent matters. But he was watching her with a curiosity that seemed more pronounced than she would have expected, even given what she was, so she raised a questioning eyebrow at him, an invitation to talk, if he chose, or to ignore her, if he preferred.
“I once met another of your kind,” he said slowly, a complete lack of fear in his stance. “When John first met you, he said he knew immediately that you were different. I’m inclined to agree. Regardless of your training, you are nothing like the other woman I met. The difference is quite startling, actually,” he finished, clearly not knowing what to make of her.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied, equally baffled by him. A Noturatii operative who had not only abandoned his task of hunting the shifters, but had actually become one of them? The leap was too great for Lee to imagine. “But I have good news for you,” she went on, revealing one of the vital pieces of information she had come to share. “According to the Noturatii, you are now dead.”
The leader’s hand went automatically to his weapon. “Um… I’m not sure I follow.”
“After the battle, I sent a report to head office. I told them I found Miller roaming the countryside after fleeing the estate, and that I killed him, along with two of his comrades. No other Khuli will be sent after you,” she promised him firmly. “There is no need to kill a dead man.”
Miller frowned, surprised, but also pleased. “Wow. Um… thank you.”
“I was also tasked with killing you,” she told the leader. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to wrap things up quite so neatly for you. But…” She turned to look at the assassin. “I’m afraid I have taken a few liberties, and you are going to end up doing me a favour,” she told him. Predictably, he scowled at her.
“What favour?” the woman asked when the assassin said nothing, his arms stubbornly folded. A firm, no-nonsense expression was on her face, though Lee could tell she wasn’t nearly as pissed off as she was pretending to be.
“You’re going to kill me,” she told the assassin happily. “You are an assassin, are you not?”
His face paled, and he took an involuntary step back. “I’m not going to kill you.”
Lee fought not to smile and only partially succeeded. Such an odd reaction, from someone she had assumed would like nothing more than to kill her. “I don’t mean literally,” she clarified. “But this is the second part of my message to Germany. I told them that after I killed Miller, I wasn’t able to kill my second target, as I have unfortunately attracted the attention of a shifter assassin. I’ve promised to check in with headquarters after I kill you, at which point I’ll return to hunting the other gentleman here.” She smiled, unable to help herself, feeling oddly light for the first time in what seemed like forever. “That’s the last message they’ll ever receive from me. In a few weeks, the CEO will attempt to summon me home, and when he receives no reply, he’ll be forced to conclude that I am dead.”
A moment of stunned silence followed her pronouncement. “So that’s it?” Miller asked. “No more working for the Noturatii? You wouldn’t consider… turning the tables on them and giving our side a boost?”
Lee shook her head. “I’ve been given a lot to think about lately; questions of morality and redemption, questions that are not easily answered. I know you would like me to help you, but I can’t.”
Thankfully, Miller made no argument to that. “Where will you go?”
“You’ll forgive me if I would rather not tell you. A rogue Khuli is… well, a rather large problem, for everyone concerned. Not least of all me.”
An awkward silence followed, as everyone seemed to be trying to figure out what to say next. “Thank you for what you’ve done for us,” the leader said finally. “It’s not a permanent fix, but it does give us some leeway for a while. And we appreciate that.”
Lee nodded. “Could I have a private word with Drew?” She’d been wondering if she would be able to work up the courage to ask, the question having been on her mind ever since she’d realised she’d need to come back here and square things off with the shifters. She didn’t even know if he’d want to talk to her, but the last time they’d seen each other, they’d slept together, and then argued briefly, and she’d told him that he couldn’t help her, that her life was set on a track far beyond her control.
But she’d wrested some of that control back; his dreams of freedom and choice hadn’t been so fanciful after all.
Drew was staring studiously at the ground, arms folded, mouth in a tight line. The leader looked him over, then glanced back at Lee, clearly not thrilled about the idea. “You’ve got five minutes,” he said finally.
Without any further comment, he turned and walked away, most of the group following him. John, however, stepped over to the wall instead, standing just a few feet away from her. He looked her in the eye, with no fear or hesitation. One survivor to another. “Fight hard,” he said. “Whatever your battle may be.”
“Survive,” she told him in reply. “Whoever your enemies might be.”
A ghostly smile graced his lips. He glanced over at Drew, waiting nearby with his eyes still on the ground, then gave a light shrug. “Goo
d luck,” he said. Then he turned and followed the others back through the forest.
Alistair waited until John’s footsteps had completely faded away before he dared to look up. There she was, waiting so patiently, watching him but giving no indication that she would ever have interrupted his contemplation.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, when she saw that she had his attention.
“For what? Regardless of how the battle played out, you saved our arses back there. And what you did for Miller... that’s big. Important.” He took a shuddering breath. “You’ve given us a chance.”
“You know what I am,” she said, not willing to accept his easy platitudes. And he admired her all the more for it. “You know what I’ve done. I have a great deal to be sorry for.”
He shook his head. “You’re so much more than a Khuli. Even the first time I met you, tasting your first beer and wanting to learn more about England. You’ve…” He glanced around suddenly, remembering that the camera was still aimed at them. “Wait a second…” He shifted and jumped the gate, then shifted back and headed off down the hill a short distance. “Come on, this way.”
Lee followed him, and when they came to a stop, Alistair stared at the ground for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets. There was so much he wanted to say, and yet none of it seemed remotely suitable. “Will they really believe you’re dead?” he asked finally. Defecting from the Noturatii was no small feat.
“Yes. If I don’t answer the summons from the CEO, that’s the only other option. Khuli don’t go rogue. Our training is too strict to break away from.”
“You managed it.”
“You and John had a lot to do with that. Most of us never get that kind of help.” A look of stark sorrow crossed her face. “But aside from that, I don’t mean that a Khuli has never left the Noturatii. They certainly do. But death is generally the only way out.”
Alistair felt his heart lurch at that. “You’re not going to...?”
Lee shook her head. Odd that he still thought of her as Lee, rather than ‘the Khuli’. “I’ve been given a great gift in the chance to disappear without actually dying. I’m not going to throw that away. But even so, I’ve killed a lot of people. Tortured them. I’ve killed children, Drew. Your leader told me during the battle that I had a screwed up moral compass because I wanted to save the drug dealers.”
That took him by surprise. “You wanted to save them? Why? Drugs destroy people’s lives, rip families apart.”
“Because if they are not worth saving,” Lee told him sharply, “then neither am I.” That stopped him in his tracks. Lee took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Flecks of blue were breaking through the fog. “So this is my new quest: to gather up the ghosts of the past and discover how they might be laid to rest. Perhaps I’m not worth saving. But I won’t know until I try.”
Unable to help himself, Alistair stepped forward, cupped her face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You are worth saving,” he told her, looking her in the eye, ignoring the fact that tears were gathering in his own. “You’ve turned me inside out and upside down, Lee. I’ve never met a woman like you.”
She stroked a gentle hand down his cheek. A hand that could snap his neck in a heartbeat. A hand that had wrung sublime pleasure from his body, and now, in that soft, gentle gesture, caused his heart to break in two. “I’ll never forget you, Drew.” She leaned in to kiss him, short and chaste, but he couldn’t bear to leave it at that. He stepped closer, put his arms around her waist, and she responded urgently, the kiss deepening, her arms circling his shoulders, holding him close.
Suddenly, she pulled back, and he caught the tell-tale shimmer of moisture in her eyes. “But I cannot stay.” Without giving him the chance to say anything else, she turned and ran, lean legs graceful as she sprinted through the grass, down the hill towards the road.
Alistair forced himself to turn away, to not watch her leave, lest he be tempted to run after her. Because even if he could answer the convoluted and painful question of whether he would be willing to give up his life to go with her, the raw truth was that the shifters would never let him go.
Slowly, his mind numb, his legs seeming to weigh a ton each, Alistair trudged back through the forest. The cool grey stone of the manor appeared through the trees, a few lights still on inside to chase away the grey of morning. Home. Though it had never seemed less like one than it did today. Home was where your heart lived, and a part of his had just ridden away on a sleek motorbike.
To his surprise, Kwan was waiting for him at the edge of the forest. Grief had left its mark on him, as it had on all of them lately, and for the first time, he seemed a man, rather than a teenager.
“She’s gone?” he asked, and Alistair nodded.
“Baron wanted to make sure?”
“Yeah. He’s going to be keeping a tight rein on security for a while. Do you think we’ll ever see her again?”
“No,” Alistair said firmly, a lump developing in his throat. “No, I don’t.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Standing at one of the long sets of shelves in the library, Miller’s brow furrowed as he flipped through the book in his hand. It was a psychology book, part of the extensive selection the Den owned, and he’d come down here hoping to find information about a number of issues that were likely to crop up as a result of Skip’s childhood. Their relationship was going strong, small but positive steps being taken as they ventured into a physical relationship and a slow building of trust between them as they each worked through their respective pasts. But despite the steps forward, there were some lingering issues he felt he needed to understand better in order to be a supportive partner.
The book in his hand didn’t seem to have the information he was looking for, so he put it back and took the next one. He flipped to the contents page, skimming down the list to see if this one might be more helpful. As he did so, the library door opened, and Miller automatically glanced around to see who -
Oh. Shit.
Another hasty glance around the rest of the room merely confirmed what he already knew; aside from John, he was the only person here.
Miller looked back at the shelf, immediately deciding the book in his hand was fine for now. Mark’s grave warning that he never let himself get stuck in a room alone with John was vivid in his mind, and he watched the boy out of the corner of his eye, waiting until he moved away from the door...
And waited...
Left with little other choice, he finally looked up. John was staring straight at him. He was also standing directly between himself and the door. Miller centred his stance, wondering whether he should try to bluff his way out of this one, or put the book down and get ready to fight.
“A lot’s happened lately,” John said, not moving out of the doorway.
“That it has,” Miller agreed. A faint thread of hope flickered through his mind. John had just been caged for three days for breaking shifter law, and he surely knew that killing Miller would earn him another prison sentence, at the very least. Would he be prepared to risk that in order to get his revenge?
“And you… you’re a conundrum. I don’t like you.” Not exactly the newsflash of the century. But then, out of the blue, John began to speak in another language, words that seemed somehow familiar, but Miller couldn’t remember where he’d heard them before. It wasn’t until John reached the last line, ‘Lun visha lim, miela hesta dun casta don Sirius’, that the pieces suddenly clicked into place. It was the Chant of Forests, spoken, rather than sung, but from the look on John’s face, it was clear that he meant every word with the utmost seriousness.
What the hell? He’d come in here, all but cornered Miller and told him he didn’t like him, then pledged his eternal loyalty to him? This kid was nuts!
But apparently, he wasn’t done yet. “Li Khuli thinks you’re worth saving.” Miller’s eyebrows rose at that. John would listen to the opinion of their most brutal enemy rather than the opinions of his own
Den mates? “And I think Li Khuli is worth saving,” John went on, his words not really explaining anything as far as Miller was concerned. “So I figured I should cut you some slack.”
“Thank you,” Miller said. He didn’t understand how John’s mind worked, but this was clearly a big decision. “I appreciate it.”
“That’s great,” John said with a scowl, “but I don’t care what you think.” With that, he was gone, ghosting out the door without so much as a ‘see you later’.
Miller turned back to the shelf, glancing over the titles of the psychology books again. Was there one on the shelf here, he wondered, that could explain what had just breezed out the door?
Mark found Alistair sitting beside the memorial wall on the back patio. The collection of plaques over the years had become quite extensive, each one a reminder of another life the Noturatii had taken from them. But despite the most recent losses to their Den, Mark wasn’t surprised to find it was neither Raniesha nor Aaron’s plaque that was the focus of Alistair’s attention. The one he was looking at was older, though still recent enough that the metal was shiny and the writing clear.
Luke Adams. Fallen in battle. Walk with Sirius.
“Am I disturbing you?” Mark asked, hoping Alistair would say no. He’d been missing for most of the day, though Mark knew he hadn’t left the estate, and for someone as sociable as Alistair to be keeping to himself was unusual enough to justify a level of concern.
“It’s fine,” Alistair said. He glanced over at Mark, then shuffled his chair sideways a little. “Pull a chair over.”
Mark did, but then, being naturally reticent, said nothing more to break the silence.
“I know I wasn’t a particularly good friend to you when he died,” Alistair said at length. “I mean, you were always the quiet one, but Luke used to pull you out of your shell, and then Luke wasn’t there anymore, and you kind of shut the world out, and somehow I managed to blame you for that.”