Fucking wolf. He forced himself to take a deep breath and pushed heat at the pain across his chest. He felt the flesh shifting beneath the ruins of his jacket and bloody shirt, and a deep ache set in. Healing took power, but whatever he’d managed would have to do.
He took the stairs as fast as he dared, aiming for quiet. Once he was at the fourth floor, he pushed the door slowly, opening it an inch at a time, until he could peer out.
Luckily, it didn’t squeak.
The werewolf was crouched over Burke, who was still pinned. From where Anders was looking, the werewolf had its back to him and blocked most of what it was doing, which was the first fucking thing to go right all night. He’d have a single shot at it if he was lucky.
The werewolf raised something over its head. Anders caught a flash of something metal before it drove its hands down.
Burke’s scream was wet with blood and mercifully short.
Anders pushed open the door and stepped out. While the werewolf, still crouched over Burke, did something that had it leaning forward over Burke, Anders tried to cover as many careful steps as he dared to close the distance. Finally, he braced himself, then launched himself in a run, both hands igniting again with hellfire, his fingers shifting into claws of his own.
Whether it was the scent of the fire or the sound of his running Anders didn’t know, but the werewolf realized he was coming an instant before he got there. It wasn’t soon enough, though, and Anders raked both of his hands across the back of the werewolf’s neck, finding purchase and throwing the beast bodily away from Burke. It landed hard against a car, and a shrill alarm shrieked in the parking lot.
Anders glanced down. Burke was dead, sightless eyes staring straight up at the ceiling, mouth open in a half-scream. The man’s shirt had been torn open, and long strips of skin had been cut from his stomach. When he looked back at the werewolf, he saw the bloody strips of flesh were in one of the werewolf’s clawed hands.
The scent of burned fur, blood, and death was heavy in the air.
“Did you miss me?” Anders said.
The wolf scrambled to its feet and snarled. Then it turned and ran.
“Fuck,” Anders said. He bolted after it, but it ran straight for the railing and neatly vaulted it, swinging itself over with one hand and vanishing. Anders raced to the edge and saw it climbing its way down the side of the parking lot.
“Burke!”
Anders jerked. Turning, he saw Kavan burst onto the floor from the stairwell.
“He’s dead,” Anders said. “And the wolf is getting away,” He pointed down over the edge of the railing.
Kavan took less than a second to look at where Burke lay before he dove back into the stairwell.
“Fuck,” Anders said again and followed suit.
Kavan was ahead of him, gaining a lead by the time Anders stumbled out of the bottom of the stairwell. Ignoring the pain as best he could, he raced after Kavan. Anders couldn’t see the werewolf, but Kavan seemed to know where he was going. Moments before he’d been walking this way with Burke in the other direction, and now he barely noticed the statues or the tree that loomed ahead.
Kavan skidded to a stop, looking left and right with desperation as he reached the mouth of the alley.
Anders jogged up to him.
“Where’d he go?”
Kavan scowled. “I don’t know. It’s like he fucking vanished.”
“He’s got magic,” Anders said. “And he’s no fucking hedge witch. I don’t know what—”
Both were blown clear off their feet and back into the alley by a blast of heat and force. Anders landed hard on his back, his vision whiting out with pain for a moment as his head hit the pavement. What little he’d done to repair the wound came undone. He felt the heat of freshly flowing blood seep across his chest.
It took seconds for his vision to clear. Looking up, he saw the branches of the park tree above him. He grunted, rolling onto his side. A wave of nausea made him gag. He struggled to recover, and tried to find Kavan.
He spotted him just in time to see the werewolf crouch over him.
“No!” Anders tried to yell. It came out barely above a weak cry. He saw the werewolf bring its hands down onto Kavan’s chest and heard the demon cry out.
I’m next, he thought. Have to get the fuck out of here. He had no way to defend himself. He tried to stand but could barely shift his feet. The snow was cold beneath him, shining bright in the moonlight.
Moonlight.
Anders looked up. The moon, waxing gibbous, was above him in the nearly cloudless winter sky.
The sound of the werewolf at work was hard to ignore. The wet sounds it made almost had Anders gagging again. He forced himself to look at the tree. The moonlight was bright enough for natural shadows.
He reached and felt the shadow respond.
He looked back. The werewolf was rising, more strips of bloody flesh in its hand, and had turned to look at where Anders lay.
Anders rolled and let the shadows take him.
*
He’d never tried to shadow-walk when he was so weak before. It was hard to see. By their very nature, the shadows demons walked through were a world of nothing, reduced to shapes, a terrain the match of the upper world, but with no light and, therefore, no color. Lighting the demonic fire behind his eyes to make out even his immediate surroundings was an effort, but as the golden fire came to him, the silent blackness of shadow-walking receded enough for Anders to get his bearings.
It was freezing. Shadow-walking leeched power from him, and he knew he didn’t have a lot of time.
Natural shadows formed the only way in or out from the shadow-walking world. Luckily, it wasn’t a matter of walking so much as it was flowing with an effort of will. Anders leaned, and the world shifted around him. The ink-black version of the Byward Market drifted away behind him.
Anders’s thoughts raced almost as fast as his form was traveling. Could he make it all the way home? He didn’t think so. He already felt fuzzy-headed, and concentrating was getting harder by the moment. He needed someone safe, and somewhere safe he could recognize from within the shadow-side.
The realization of who on the very short list might be the best option made him wish the shadow-side wasn’t soundless. He could really do with a good bout of swearing.
But he didn’t have the time or the strength to reconsider.
He leaned and focused hard on the fire behind his eyes. It was easy enough to spot Patterson Park, what with the water, and from there getting to Central Park would be easy enough.
In the distance, he saw the flickers of other demons traveling through the shadow. Their blue-white flashes were far enough away, though. He hoped he was safe. The last thing he needed was some random demon deciding now was a good time for a pissing contest.
There!
The features of Patterson Creek were easy to recognize, and Anders leaned right, crossing Bank Street and then sliding down the hillside of Central Park. By the time he found one of the large trees and felt the pull of the shadows cast in the real world—his doorway out—he was barely holding his pace.
He burst into a pile of snow beneath the tree, gasping and twisting. His hands shook as he struggled to pull his phone from his pocket, and his fingers felt slow and stupid as he worked the screen.
He had to lean against the tree trunk to hold the phone against his ear while it rang. The call was answered on the second ring.
“David Rimmer.”
Anders clenched his teeth. This was going to suck.
“Central Park. Can’t walk.” His teeth were chattering. “Need one of you to get me. And call Luc. Kavan and another demon…killed…Parking garage by Sintillation and the alley…Do you know the alley? There’s a tree…” His head was so heavy.
“Tyson’s home. I’ll call him. He’ll be right there.”
Anders lowered the phone and closed his eyes.
Don’t fall asleep, he thought.
Eleven
&
nbsp; “It’s that one.”
Luc pulled up to David’s house, parking the Mercedes and glancing at Curtis. He hadn’t spoken much since Luc had woken him and told him what little information David had passed to him, but the worry that flooded from the wizard through their bond was a constant stream.
“David said Tyson found him in time, and he’ll be okay,” Luc said.
Curtis blinked. “Right. Right. I know.”
Tyson greeted them at the door.
He looked different than before. Older, Luc thought. Like a man in his mid-twenties, not a youth in his final teenage years. The line of his jaw, the way he stood, all of it spoke of a maturity far beyond Tyson’s appearance. The wrath demon looked at Curtis.
“Hello,” Tyson said. There was no malice in the demon’s eyes, but there was no warmth either.
Curtis clenched his jaw.
“Tyson,” Luc said. There was no love lost between the fury and Curtis, but now was not the time.
Tyson turned to him. “David said I’m to welcome you both in for as long as you need to get Anders home.” He paused. “So, you both may come inside and are welcome for the next half hour.”
Luc felt the pressure of residency part with Tyson’s invitation.
“Great,” Curtis said. “Let’s get to it.”
Tyson stepped aside, and they passed by him.
Anders was on the ground floor on the couch in the small living room. His bare chest was marred by a series of long claw marks running from his shoulder to his stomach. The marks were red and angry, and though they’d obviously been cleaned by someone with care, Luc could still smell the scent of his blood and saw the dark stains along the edge of his jeans near his stomach. Some of the blood stains on the denim were inches wide.
Those cuts had bled profusely.
“Hey,” Anders said, opening his eyes. “So I found the werewolf.”
Curtis crossed the room and knelt beside him. He put a hesitant hand on Anders’s good shoulder. “How bad is it?”
Anders grunted. “Hurts like fuck. I’ll be okay, though. Demons heal fast, but I’m running on empty. Having you guys here helps.”
Luc could feel the demon drawing on their triad. It was a subtle pulling sensation in the center of his chest. To his surprise, it was almost comforting.
“Take what you need,” Curtis said.
“I want to go home,” Anders said. “I don’t want to be here when David gets home.”
“Okay,” Curtis said. He looked down at the ugly marks across Anders’s chest, then up at Luc. “Maybe if we put the passenger seat all the way back, it might be better.”
Luc nodded. “Yes.”
They got the car as ready as they could, and then they helped Anders stand. The demon cursed every step of the way, especially once outside where his skin was exposed to the February night air, but the wounds didn’t reopen. By the time they had him reclined in the front seat, he was sweating with effort, despite the cold.
“You okay?” Curtis said once he’d climbed into the seat behind Luc.
“I will be,” Anders said. He gritted his teeth. “Once that fucking wolf is dead.”
Luc started the car and nudged the heat up to a higher setting. He backed gently out of David’s driveway and started for Bank.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Luc said.
Anders swallowed. “Well, for one thing, wolf doesn’t just have the fucking knack. It made itself look like Flint, and it tossed me around with a twitch of its fucking paw. Fucker threw a mean binding spell.”
Curtis whistled. “That’s not sorcerer-level stuff.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Anders said.
“Perhaps you should start at the beginning,” Luc said. This wasn’t good. The list of names he’d gotten from Denis and Stirling both hadn’t listed much in the way of werewolves with magical aptitude. Was this Faris gifted more than anyone knew? Or was that other wolf, the woman, Taryne Rhedey, involved?
“Okay,” Anders said. “But first, I got something for you, Curtis.” He raised his right hand, which was clenched in a fist.
Curtis leaned forward. Luc glanced over. When Anders opened his hand, his palm was covered with dried blackened stains and matted tufts of singed hair.
“What’s that?” Curtis said.
The scent came to Luc, though. Burned or not, he smelled blood.
“Werewolf blood and fur,” Anders said. “From our wolf’s neck. I didn’t tell Tyson. I figured it was best to just keep my hand closed while he was cleaning me off. This enough for one of your spells?”
“You, mister, are amazing,” Curtis said.
Luc reached over and put a hand on Anders’s shoulder. Finally, they would have somewhere to start.
*
Luc’s phone rang while they were helping Anders lie down in the king-sized bed in his room. It hadn’t been made, of course, so Curtis had quickly straightened the sheets before Anders had managed to slide onto the bed. Getting him up the stairs had been a slow and painful process if the demon’s curses were any indication, and he sank back against the pillows Curtis had arranged with a deep sigh.
The caller ID told him it was David Rimmer, so Luc took the call.
“Hello, David,” he said.
“How is he? Tyson said you guys took him home.”
“We did. He’s resting now. I’m sure he’ll be back to his usual obnoxious self in no time.”
“Fuck you. Lying right here,” Anders said.
“Hush,” Curtis said. He had Anders’s hand in his lap, fingers uncurled, and had retrieved a bottle and his athame from his room. It was beside him on the bed.
“I’m sure,” David said. “Listen. Two things. One, the demon in the parking lot, Burke? Same as Louis Flint.”
“Yes,” Luc said. “Anders told us the werewolf had taken strips of skin from both of them.”
“Yeah, but the other guy? The pack leader, Kavan? That’s the other thing. He’s alive.”
“Kavan’s alive,” Luc said.
Anders’s head jerked up. “What?”
“Stay still,” Curtis said.
“Barely,” David said. “He’s been moved to Riverside. He’s unconscious. If he wakes up, I’ll give you a call, but it’s unlikely from the sounds of things. It might be it just takes a while for… Well.” David exhaled. “No idea.”
“I understand,” Luc said. “Was there any trouble with onlookers?”
“The Families sent some help,” David said. “Quite a lot of help. Mitchell wizards, mostly. They made things look like construction. If anyone comes forward, they’ll have a few words with them, and that’ll be it. But it looks like Anders and Burke weren’t seen. One couple waiting for a cab saw Kavan running out from Sintillation and thought it was worth a call to the police, but no one chased him, and he’d already called me, so I intercepted. The wizard the Mitchells sent will smooth out his memories.”
On the bed, Curtis was pointing the athame at Anders’s open palm, speaking calm and focused words of magic. The burned and matted blood on Anders’s skin grew wet and began to rise, defying gravity by dripping up onto the edge of the blade. There wasn’t a lot, but Curtis concentrated, repeating the phrase a few times before nodding to himself and uncorking the bottle. He put the tip of the athame over the bottle and spoke again. The blood leapt through the opening, and Curtis put the cork back in. He looked up to see Luc watching him, and nodded.
“We may have something for you, too,” Luc said. “Curtis—”
“Maybe we can meet up later, then,” David said, cutting him off. “We can compare notes. I’ll swing by and get Anders’s statement, and you can tell me all about how your meeting with the other vampires went. I’m sure it can wait. Right now, there are some Family wizards with me who really want my attention focused here. Jonathan Mitchell gets my priority attention.”
Luc took a moment. “You’re not free to talk.”
“Exactly. Okay, I’ll see you later. Thanks again,
Luc. And I’ll keep you informed on Kavan. No need to worry about it.”
David hung up.
“Something’s wrong with David. It sounds like the Families are hindering him somehow,” Luc said.
“Kavan’s alive?” Anders said.
“Unconscious and barely. David repeated twice we shouldn’t worry about him, however, and that the Families were handling it.”
“So we should worry about him,” Anders said.
Luc raised an eyebrow. “It seems so.”
“Why would the Families care about Kavan?” Curtis said. “I mean, he’s a demon, right?”
“Time to find out,” Anders said. He tried to rise but grunted in pain and fell back against the pillows again. “Fuck. Ow.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Curtis said.
“David isn’t free to talk,” Luc said. “Because the Families are apparently all over him. Kavan is in a hospital and likely also guarded, which puts him out of our reach for the moment as well, unless we want to try and force the issue with Malcolm Stirling and the others?”
“No thanks,” Curtis said.
“But we have a lead of our own,” Luc said.
Curtis raised the small bottle. “Thanks to the big guy here, yes.” He leaned over and kissed Anders’s forehead.
Anders tapped his lips. “You missed.”
Luc waited for the two to share a longer kiss, Curtis leaning awkwardly to not put pressure on Anders’s wounded chest.
“What do you need?” Luc said, when they broke apart.
“There’s a pendant I can use,” Curtis said. “And I’ll need a map. It’ll help if we start somewhere close to where the blood was taken, too. There’s not much blood in the bottle.”
Luc frowned. “We don’t want to be seen.”
“Don’t worry,” Curtis said. “We don’t have to be that close.”
“Okay then,” Luc said. He looked down at Anders. “Do you need anything else before we go?”
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