Euphoria fuzzed Trish’s brain as she slowly recovered her breath and her senses. She’d never been high on anything stronger than marijuana, but she didn’t think a chemical high could possibly beat this one. A voice broke through the sensual haze, causing Kyle to tense next to her as both their wolves went on instant alert. They were on their feet in less than a heartbeat, heads cocked in the direction the voice had come from.
“Kyle, Trish,” the male voice called again.
“We’re here, Butch,” Kyle called back, knowing his voice would allow the other man to pinpoint their location. “What is it?” They didn’t often take time like this for themselves, so Trish was sure that their Enforcer wouldn’t disturb them for something frivolous. Kyle clearly agreed, as he wrapped one of the blankets around her shoulders and pushed out of the privacy of the rock shelter before Butch reached them. Trish tugged the edges of the blanket closed around herself, still decidedly modest by Werewolf standards, and followed close on his heels.
“Alpha.” The thickset man with dark, unkempt hair, acne scars and a gruff voice dropped his gaze from Kyle’s respectfully as they met up in a small clearing just a few hundred feet from the gardens surrounding Haven.
“What’s up, Butch?” Kyle asked the older Werewolf. He had been a lone wolf in the City for many years, one of only a handful granted the status of living without a Pack. About a year after Kyle and Trish formed the Silver Ridge Pack, he had issued a formal request to join the Pack. He was now third in rank behind Derek’s Beta position, and their official Enforcer, not that he’d been needed in that respect as yet. There had been no need for disciplining Pack members, and Trish prayed that didn’t change any time soon. With a background in the military and having proven his mettle during some harrowing fights alongside Gabi and Julius as a lone wolf, he was one of the most trusted and respected members of the Alliance, the supernatural peacekeepers of the City.
“There’s a call from the Black River Beta,” he told them, referring to the largest of the three Werewolf Packs that coexisted in the City.
Kyle and Trish looked at each other. Three years ago, necessity, and Kyle, had brought six Werewolf Packs together in a slightly uneasy coalition in order to protect the human inhabitants from supernatural threats. With the City housing one of the most powerful sources of magical energy in the world, it tended to attract more than its fair share of supernatural unrest. The journey to a full Alliance hadn’t been an easy one and, inevitably, there had been casualties along the way. Six Packs had been whittled down to three, and while it took delicate, ongoing negotiations and Kyle’s rock-steady character to keep the peace, it was working well now. The Alliance operated like a well-oiled machine, so long as the Packs were generally kept in their own sectors of the City, took charge of things in turn, and patrolled the streets with their own Pack mates. Protocols were in place for just about any eventuality, but if anything extraordinarily strange or suspicious cropped up, Kyle and Trish were the ones to call; they had firm contacts within all the other groups, including the Shifters, the Magi and the Vampires. If Ethan had called them, something notable was afoot.
“One of their patrols uncovered something unusual tonight.” Butch confirmed Trish’s assumption. “They want to run the details past you, see if you have any ideas. Ethan sounded concerned.”
Trish and Kyle exchanged rueful looks; their alone time was over.
“Of course,” Kyle said. “Get him on the phone in my office. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Butch saluted and loped away, leaving them to find their discarded clothing.
CHAPTER 3
“Trish?” Flora’s voice called out.
“I’m in here,” Trish called back from her bedroom. She was applying eyeliner as she readied for the day. She silently bemoaned the dark circles under her eyes that her foundation was struggling to hide. The report from Ethan about two human corpses going missing, one from the City mortuary and the other from a hospital, had kept them up discussing possibilities until well after midnight. Another night of disturbing dreams hadn’t helped, though at least she hadn’t woken Kyle for a change.
Flora peeked around the door. The girl’s hair was a mass of blue-black curls around her head, thoroughly overwhelming her pretty, heart-shaped face. She smiled, her teeth startlingly white against the rich darkness of her skin.
“Do you have time to help me with this mess?” she asked, pulling at her hair with a grimace.
Trish twisted the lid back onto the eyeliner and smiled. “Yes, of course, come and sit here on the floor.” She pulled a velvet cushion from the mound of them on the bed and dropped it on the floor for Flora to sit on.
“If you don’t have time, Casey can help me once Breanna goes down for her nap.” The girl had a terrible habit of double-checking that she wasn’t being an imposition.
“I’m working from home today, so I don’t have to rush off,” Trish assured her. She sat on the bed and pointed at the pillow. “Come and sit. We haven’t had time for a catch-up all week.”
The girl smiled and entered the room, armed with combs and a container of hair elastics. She was tall and graceful and as skinny as an alley cat, no matter how much Trish fed her. She dropped down onto the pillow and handed over a fistful of colourful elastic bands.
Two years ago Trish had barely been able to do a French plait in her own hair, but then Flora had come along. She had taught not only Trish but several other girls in the Pack to braid. It took hours of practice and very deft fingers, and Trish considered herself quite competent at it now, but no one could rival Flora herself.
Trish knew it was a tedious job if you were doing it all by yourself, not to mention the strain it put on your arms, but doing it like this—having some girl talk and the odd giggle—made it enjoyable. Trish always found it strangely soothing; even her wolf would usually settle down during a braiding party.
They set to work with comfortable familiarity, dividing the shiny black strands into sections before flying fingers reined in the unruly curls.
“Are you still hanging out with Deshane?” Trish asked, keeping her tone mild, but unable to entirely erase the burning curiosity from her voice. Flora had just recently professed to having met a boy she really liked. They had heaps in common, including that his mother was Ghanaian. Trish was torn between wanting her to err on the side of caution and wanting her to fall head over heels in love.
Flora’s hands stilled for a second before continuing. “We went to coffee after lectures last week, and I think we might do that again today,” she said. “But,” she emphasised the word, “we’re taking things slow, getting to know each other, so you don’t need to worry.”
Trish smiled. “I know you’ll take care of yourself. You are a strong, independent woman.” Knowing she was straying into sappy territory, she changed the direction of the conversation.
“Have you received any kind of word from Eka lately?” Trish asked as she tied off one smooth plait and set to work on the next one.
Eka was an inconceivably old Vampire who had been top dog of the dreaded Decuria, a group of Vampires determined to change the world order, bringing in an era where Vampires ruled and humans bowed. He’d rescued Flora from an orphanage, where she’d landed after being driven from her village at the tender age of just seven years old. He had adopted her because of her powerful Vodun lineage, wanting to use her power to secure his position as Decuria Number One. What Eka hadn’t counted on was coming to love the girl as his own flesh and blood. And he certainly hadn’t anticipated that love changing his attitude to the Vampires’ position in the world. Once he’d come to realise what Vampire domination would mean to the humans of the world, humans like his Flora, he’d lost the desire to see the Decuria achieve their ultimate objective. He’d begun to work against them instead of for them. In doing so he’d painted a bullseye on his back, and his days as leader of the Decuria had been numbered.
As soon as it was clear they’d discovered his betrayal
, he’d sent Flora away to the protection of Julius’s Clan while he exiled himself to the furthest reaches of the planet. Flora was occasionally able to contact him via satellite phone, but it had been months since his last call. Trish knew Flora worried about him. The affection between them went both ways; he was the closest thing she had to a father.
The girl sighed. “Nothing on the phone, but Tabari and I are working on a new type of scrying. With a little more practice, I hope it will give me the chance to at least check that he’s safe.”
Trish freed one hand to give the girl’s shoulder a little squeeze. Eka had pulled rather a nasty trick to get Julius to meet with him, and it had all been in the name of using Tabari to train Flora and prepare her for what the future would hold. Very few practicing Vodun priests and priestesses still existed today; they were on the verge of becoming a dying breed.
Trish didn’t know exactly how powerful Flora could become, she had no frame of reference for Vodun priestesses, but she had seen the look of reverence on Tabari’s face after a couple of their training sessions. He had even taken Trish aside one afternoon and, in quiet tones, asked her to make sure that Flora was kept grounded, emphasising that she needed Trish’s gentle empathy as a guide. The conversation had unsettled Trish. For the first time it had sunk in that this mere slip of a girl could affect the world in a vastly positive or terribly negative way. Keeping her on the right side of the line was as important as anything else Trish would ever do.
“Don’t push yourself too hard.” Trish couldn’t help the protective words slipping out. “Eka wouldn’t want you to do that, even for him.”
“I know.” Flora reached up to squeeze Trish’s hand. “It’s getting easier. I haven’t had a headache for more than two weeks now. I have to be sure I am ready.” Her voice dropped an octave and she sighed. Trish knew what she was referring to: the Day of Acquiring. The day her powers fully manifested, when she went from acolyte to priestess. There was no set age, just a vague guideline, the day the Ancestors agreed she was prepared enough. It could happen any day or not for years to come, but Trish didn’t think it would be long. Once she was in full ownership of those abilities, she would be as powerful as many well-trained Magi, but with a myriad of abilities, rarely just the one or two bequeathed to Magi, and some more dangerous than others. She would have access to the darkest of the Magi powers, Blood Magic, Sex Magic and…Death Magic.
These dark powers were the reason the Magi would have nothing to do with her, the reason she was living with the Werewolves rather than the Magi, who would be better suited to honing her skills. The Castius Magi never used the Dark powers, and they kept tight leashes on those of their kind who could wield them. They were scared of her and what she represented: Dark Magic over which they had no control. They would probably have tried to assassinate her if it wasn’t for Athena; friend to both the Vampires and the Pack, she was the youngest of the Magus High Councillors, and she had fought Demons and Dark Magi alongside Gabi and Kyle. She was also in a relationship with Julius’s second in command, the sarcastic, quick-witted, ridiculously good-looking Alexander.
“You will be ready,” Trish assured her, resuming plaiting and injecting her voice with reassurance, “and we’ll be right there to support you when it happens.” Trish couldn’t see her face, but she knew Flora smiled.
“I’m very lucky to have all of you.”
Trish made a derisive noise in her throat, thinking that it was them who were lucky to have her in their lives.
“No, Trish, I really mean it. It’s hard to put into words.”
Trish sensed that Flora had something to say and needed to say it, so she remained quiet as the girl collected her thoughts.
“I just want you to understand how much I appreciate you all. So many people would have looked after me in return for what I could do for them in the future, in the hope of turning me into some kind of weapon or shield. Even Eka. Yes, I’m not blind to him, though I love him like a father. He did the right thing in the end, but that is not why he took me from the orphanage to begin with. You and Kyle, the Pack, Gabi and Julius—you have no need of my power, you are all formidable powers in your own right, yet you treat me as one of you, love me and care about me, and want the best for me. I have not lived that many years, but I know the difference between the pretence of love and caring and true love and caring. You have shown me what it means to have a family, that you don’t need blood kin to be part of a family. And I will never forget that.”
Trish tied off the braid she was busy with, placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of her head, the same way she did with Breanna in her very occasional quiet moments.
Flora released a deep breath. “All right, sappy stuff over for the day,” she said, quietly sniffing as she rummaged for more hair ties. They worked in companionable silence for several minutes before Flora spoke again. “Kyle said you’re not sleeping well. Is everything alright? You know I can look after Breanna in the afternoon so you can have a nap.”
Trish sighed. Her initial instinct was to protect Flora from the negative things in their lives, but her practical side reminded her that Flora could get caught up in whatever life threw at them. She was old enough to handle it and deserved to know if there was potential for danger around them. “My wolf is a little unsettled, and I’ve been having some disturbing dreams.”
Flora’s hands stilled halfway through a braid. “What kinds of dreams?” Flora’s voice had changed; she was concerned.
“I can’t really recall the details when I wake up, but mostly what I remember is a powerful threat hovering nearby, and sometimes my wolf is trying to protect a cub.”
“Do you think she’s worried about Breanna?” Flora asked, finishing off the last braid and turning to face Trish, worry creasing her forehead. “Is Breanna the cub?”
Trish tried to smile reassuringly, but it was probably more of a grimace. “I’m not really sure, honey. It could just be a bad dream—unfounded, subconscious, maternal fears coming to the surface.”
Flora studied her face in silence for a moment and then seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. “Well, she has pretty much the most ferocious band of protectors known to mankind around her,” the girl said with a hard note in her voice. “We’ll deal with anyone or anything that tries to come near her, won’t we?”
Trish’s heart felt full to bursting as she heard the steely determination in Flora’s voice. The girl was young enough to still need protection herself, yet she was including herself in the group of people who would lay down their lives to defend Breanna. Pulling Flora in for a hug, she silently prayed that it wouldn’t come to that.
It was mid-morning before Trish had finished planning and checking the Alliance patrol rosters for the following week. She might not be suited to the front-line work required of the Alliance members, but she was very good at the background stuff. Her even-tempered supervisory manner, organisational skills and knowledge of all things computer and tech had landed her in charge of Alliance Central Operations, meaning she was responsible for everything from supplies to timetables.
The roster had taken longer than usual today, as she was distracted thinking about the missing corpses. She could hear Casey reading the last paragraph of Breanna’s current favourite book, about a group of tiny flying unicorns who got up to cartloads of mischief. Casey was a good-natured, patient Werewolf in her early twenties, she had the naughtiest sense of humour after a few drinks, and she was fabulous with children, making her a firm favourite of Breanna’s. She’d been a goth when they first met her, dying her already dark hair black, accentuating her beautiful features with dark make-up and wearing dark clothing. The fad had worn off a year or so ago, but she retained an eclectic style and flair that made her seem older than her years. Trish and Kyle had been only too happy to negotiate her application to join the Pack along with her two best friends, Jade and Adriana. Jade had been in the Black River Pack with Casey but Adriana had been tied
to the Red Shadow Pack, making life awkward for the trio. Being allowed to join the Silver Ridge Pack meant the girls could finally be together like the sisters they felt they were.
Trish checked her watch and, right on time, she heard the distant purring of a supercar’s throaty engine. Trish closed the file and shut down her laptop as the electronic front gates whirred into motion. Gabi’s new car was a little quieter than the previous one, and Trish was getting used to listening for the different engine noise. Julius, Gabi’s Consort, the Vampiric equivalent of a mate or husband, had been trying for months to get her to upgrade the McLaren he’d bought her several years ago. She’d finally capitulated when he’d brought home the new McLaren 720S and made her drive it. Gabi, bless her soul, had tried to gift Trish her original McLaren. Trish had turned her down as gently as she could, pointing out that the car wasn’t at all practical for family use. Using Breanna as an excuse gave Trish a twinge of guilt, but there was no way on earth she was cut out to drive something as monstrously powerful as a McLaren supercar.
She stood, pushing aside the mystery of the disappearing bodies, just as the punchy growl of the engine reluctantly fell quiet outside the front door. A smile already on her face, Trish hurried to open the door as her friend unfolded herself from the depths of the sports car.
Gabrielle Bradford—also known as Hellcat, though only by those with a certain level of familial protection—gave her a grin and a cheery wave as she reached into the back of the car for something. Similar in height and weight to Trish herself, even similar in build since the Lycanthropy virus chewed through every calorie Trish consumed and had long since redefined her once soft, curvy figure. The similarities ended there, however.
Raising Hell_A Hellcat World Novel Page 4