Gray shook her head. “No time. The buyers just landed. Get those leg-chains off and take them back to the auction room. Put them four to a booth if you have to.”
Perry’s nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll get Maxey and the oth—”
Gray cut her off. “What did you not understand about ‘no time’? Get them in there immediately.” She pointed to Rayne and Lerro. “I’ll take these two. You bring the rest.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Foster held up his hands in surrender and stepped back. “They’re all yours. Shackles are on the table next to the monitors if you want to use them. It’s your problem if you don’t.” He stepped back. “Chekal, Lerro, go on up.”
Gray flourished her fingers in a circular gesture. Magic sparks swirled into an image of a lightning bolt. “I’m sure they’ll cooperate if they know what’s good for them.”
Rayne glanced at Lerro, who was focused on Gray. Lerro started up the ramp, so she followed.
As Rayne passed, Perry’s face twisted with anger, but not so Gray could see it.
Gray beckoned with a curling finger, then spun smartly around and strode into the hub.
Surreptitiously, Rayne glanced up as they walked. A blackened spot in the center of the ceiling and the acrid smell of burnt plastic gave mute testimony to the damage her magic had done. She hoped it was enough.
Gray led them through the double doors into the auction area’s stage. Usually, the display booths were lined up, ready to accept and display the captives, but they were still in the corner. She turned to catch Rayne’s eye and Lerro’s and pointed to their feet. “Stay.”
Rayne’s attention immediately singled out Díaz, who stood in the middle of the stage, head bowed and arms crossed, smartphone in one hand.
He turned to Gray. “You said you were just going to the powder room.”
Rayne’s wolf told her to find who was making him so frustrated and impress him by biting them. Mates like thoughtful gestures, assured her wolf.
She kept her exasperation to herself as she checked out the rest of the room.
No staff, no guards, and only three board members, counting Gray. The space bristled with defenses, including the unique magic detection technology found throughout the facility, plus a dozen spells waiting to be triggered if the merchandise or the buyers got rowdy. She’d seen some of them in action.
Gray waved off Díaz’s peevish comment. “Someone had to tell the guards to bring the shifters back in. Where are the records you promised? We start the audit during the auction.” She squinted toward the alarmed and secure double doors at the far end, behind the audience seating. “How many buyers are waiting?”
Martinez, a tall brown-skinned woman with dark hair poofed high, looked up from the tablet in her hands. “The auctioneer said five. She’s in the lobby, opening the self-serve bar for them. They expect fifteen more.”
Díaz’s phone vibrated loudly enough for any shifter to hear it. He flared a bit of magic as he looked down at it.
Rayne dropped her head to hide her reaction. Even from fifteen feet away, his magic felt like sexy warm breath on her neck. Interesting that it didn’t set off the alarms.
Gray turned her gaze to the darkened display booths and took a few steps toward them. “How do those things work?”
Díaz’s frown deepened as he rapidly two-thumbed a message on his phone. “I will go ask about that and the records.”
Lerro edged close behind her. “The wizard must stay here.” The tone was so soft, even her shifter ears barely heard him. “If he leaves, he dies. If he dies, we die.”
The chill up her spine—her own personal truth meter— confirmed an oft-repeated rumor among the prisoners. Lerro was an oracle.
She rubbed her palms on her thighs. Vague predictions and do-this-or-die pronouncements always made her want to slap oracles silly.
Mate or not, she owed Díaz the professional courtesy he’d shown her. Tossing a quick prayer to the moon goddess, she crouched as if too tired to stand. She tapped her wrist shackles together three times, then caught them before they fell.
Smith, the third board member stood and put his hands on his waist, bending sideways in a stretch.
“No!” shouted Lerro.
Smith was suddenly aiming an enforcer’s dart gun at Díaz.
Rayne instinctively launched herself toward Díaz. They bowled over, a tangle of limbs. His magic flared and wrapped around them in a shield.
As if they’d trained together for years, they rolled apart and each came up in a crouch, facing everyone else in the room. She hung on to her human form with a thread, ready to kill.
Martinez grappled with Smith, controlling his gun arm. “Stop, goddammit!”
He snarled through a half-shifted muzzle full of sharp teeth and tusks. She growled back with more than a hint of angry feline in her tone.
From the stage, Gray flared sharp witch magic. “Move, Elena!”
Martinez pushed Smith hard and arched herself backward away from him, careening off the padded seat.
Gray’s bolt of power hit Smith but cascaded in a shower of sparks on an invisible barrier.
A red alarm light near one of the coffered ceiling beams began rapid blinking.
Smith growled angrily and swung his weapon toward Martinez.
From out of the corner of her eye, Rayne saw Lerro throw something. A swarm of glowing green beads slowed through Smith’s shield, then landed on his skin and clothes.
Smith’s growling turned to howling in pain. His face and form became fully human. He shudders overtook his body. The gun dropped.
Martinez darted in to grab the weapon with a blurry-fast movement and danced back.
Smith stumbled, scraping at the beads, which were burning through his clothes and burrowing themselves into his skin wherever they touched.
Gray whirled to glare at Lerro. “What were those?”
He gave her a feral smile. “Karma.”
Rayne pushed to her feet and moved toward the double doors, confirming the sounds she’d heard. “The guards are bringing the rest of the shifters.”
Díaz flared warm magic. The red alarm winked out. He pointed toward shuddering Smith. “Tell them he tried to use an unauthorized spell on the shifters. And shut him up.” He bent down to pick up the dart that must have bounced off his shield. He sniffed it. His magic flared again, giving her wildly inappropriate thoughts as he dropped the dart into his chest pocket.
Rayne ran to Lerro and latched onto his arm. “Down.” She pulled him with her down to his knees. “We’re victims.”
Gray’s chin jutted out as she faced Díaz, power gathering in her palm. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand, slave-trafficker?”
Díaz’s stony face gave no indication of the mass of power he was raising.
Rayne focused on Gray, willing her to listen. “Because he’s on our side. He saved my life.” She clamped her jaw to contain what her inner wolf wanted to say. Because he’s our mate.
Lerro’s hoarse whisper that carried throughout the room iced her blood.
“Because without him, we’re all dead.”
5
Arvik reached for the coldest, darkest part of him as a lifeline in a sea of chaotic emotion and conflicting impulses.
Kill the shifter who tried to shoot him with lethal charmed poison. Get Rayne to safety. Find out why he’d been the target. Keep the mission together long enough to smoke out the true owners. Avoid being a pawn in Lerro’s confluence magic. Kiss Rayne for protecting him. Kiss Rayne again on general principle. Would she taste different each time?
He ground his teeth so hard he heard his molars crack as he picked up the phone he’d dropped. He nearly laughed out loud when he saw the last message from Balton.
The back doors to the stage and the front doors from the buyers’ lobby opened at the same time.
On the stage, the shifters began shuffling in in small groups, chained at the ankles. Foster, Perry, and two m
ore guards carefully watched their progress.
Costigan closed the lobby doors behind her quietly. The consummate professional, she carried her tablet and walked purposefully to the side stairs that led to her auctioneer’s podium. “Magister Díaz. A word?”
Arvik-as-Arturo sullenly crossed to her side. “It’s not my fault.” He pointed to shuddering Smith, slumped into the theatre seat Martinez had wrestled him into. “I told him no magic in here. The rebound defense hit him hard.”
She rolled her eyes, then tilted her head toward the clumps of shifters. “What are they all doing in here?”
He shrugged. “Gray brought two. I don’t know about the rest.” He wiggled his phone. “Balton texted me to ‘stall,’ and I don’t know what he meant. The shifters? The board members? The buyers? The auction?”
She shook her head. “This is a complete cockup.” She pointed her chin toward the buyers’ entrance. “We’ve got ten more buyers than were on my list. I don’t care what Aldenrud says, more isn’t merrier.” She turned to her state-of-the-art podium with its impressive array of controls and connected her tablet to it. “I’ll line up the booths. Go tell the guards to load in the merchandise.” She stabbed controls. Booths began lighting up.
He surveyed the shifters dubiously. “All forty of them? All at once?”
She blew out an explosive breath. “No, one per booth. Buyers expect discounts if we group them.” She turned back to her podium. “I’ve put up with three years of shit from this place. I want my goddamn bonus.”
He nodded as he slid the company-provided phone into his pocket and flicked his magic to block its suite of surveillance spells. Balton couldn’t complain, or he’d have to admit he’d installed the suite in the first place.
After repeating Costigan’s orders to Perry and the other guards, he headed toward Rayne and Lerro still sitting on their heels, faces cast down. The heavy boots he wore to remind him to walk like a clumsy human echoed louder on the raised wood floor.
Gray moved to intercept him. “Where are Aldenrud and Balton?” Accusation laced her tone.
He assumed that Gray and the others were likely Rayne’s reinforcements, but Smith’s actions worried him. Rayne wouldn’t be the first field agent to be a casualty of internal politics.
“I don’t know. Where are the rest of your board members?” He harrumphed in Arturo-like irritation. “I am a magister, not a sheep herder.”
He stepped around Gray to pick up the shackles on the floor and hold them out to Rayne. “On.”
She didn’t meet his eyes, but her fingers brushed his as she took the shackles. The thrill electrified him.
He stepped back and put his fists on his hips. Touching her was too damn dangerously distracting.
“Up, both of you.”
As they both climbed to their feet, Arvik took a chance to use his magic on Lerro’s wrist shackles to make them open with three quick taps.
The red warning light near the ceiling stayed dark. The trick was to use wizard magic that didn’t hit the detection threshold.
When Rayne looked up at him with a slightly raised eyebrow, he blinked one eye at her three times in succession, then glanced toward Lerro’s wrists and back.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
He wondered if she felt his magic the sensuous way he felt hers. He selfishly hoped so, even if it wasn’t safe for either of them.
He turned to find Gray staring at him with suspicious eyes.
Arvik gave her an Arturo sneer. “Better move, or you’ll get run over.” He pointed to the booths that were rolling toward them, then turned to Rayne and Lerro. “Let’s go.”
He led them to the end of the line of shifters “Sit.” He raised his voice. “All of you. Down.”
As the shifters followed his order, Perry hustled over. “What are you doing?”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” he replied with a supercilious sniff, “but Balton ordered me to fix them up. It’s easier if they’re sitting.”
Perry looked like she wanted to argue, but clamped her mouth shut with an audible clack. She went back to her post near the doors.
He started at the beginning of the line, where twelve prisoners were already unchained and waiting for the booths to stop moving. Under the cover of using magic to clean clothing and faces and heal visible cuts and bruises, he applied the three-fast-taps spell to every shackle they wore. He’d figure out how to tell them about it later.
It would be a pleasure to melt the booths to slag as they glided by, but he settled for tampering with the doors instead.
By the time he got to the end of the line, he was feeling the metaphysical burn of controlling the magic flow so it didn’t trip the detectors.
Lerro rose to his knees and raised his clasped hands above him, his face tilted upward, like he was beseeching the gods. “Tap the wrist, bang the knee. The power of three shall set you free.”
On the last word, he opened his eyes wide, unclasped his hands, and splayed his fingers. To humans, he probably sounded like a street-corner preacher. Shifters knew an oracle when they heard one.
Arvik’s respect for Lerro deepened. Somehow, he’d not only stayed alive, he’d stayed relatively sane despite dual gifts of confluence magic and oracular visions. It put the assault on Smith in a whole new interesting light.
Perry pulled out her lightning rod and activated it. “We don’t have time for your crazy shit, Lerro.”
“Don’t be thick,” snapped Arvik. “If you zap him, everyone on the chain goes, too.” Sending a silent apology to Lerro, he cast a quick knockout spell. Lerro toppled onto Rayne. “He’ll wake in a few minutes.”
He shook his head as he watched Rayne struggle to get out from under Lerro’s dead weight. “What does that mean, ‘the power of three shall set you free’?” He used his native gift to compel just the shifters to pay attention to the words he quoted. He didn’t like using charisma magic. His people had used it as a weapon, but he’d left them long ago.
Perry snorted as she re-holstered the rod. “Probably some lame shifter myth. They’ve got thousands of them.”
At the doorway, Foster whistled softly for attention. “Incoming.” He pulled open one of the doors.
The three missing board members plus Aldenrud and Balton filed in, followed by the guard called Carson who carried three folding chairs.
Aldenrud made a beeline for Costigan’s auctioneer podium. The guard crossed behind him and started setting up the chairs nearby.
Balton and the board members walked around the end of the shifter line to stop in front of Arvik. The board members wore disgruntled expressions.
Balton pointed back toward the doors. “Go get three more chairs from the boardroom.” Beads of moisture dotted his upper lip.
Out of the corner of his eye, Arvik saw Rayne’s mouth silently form the word “no.”
Arvik’s instincts—and both his animals—said to trust her over Balton.
He assumed an Arturo-is-insulted look and crossed his arms. “I am a magister.” He pointed his imperious chin toward Foster and Perry. “They are not.”
Whatever Balton was about to say was interrupted by Costigan’s voice over the speakers. “Perry, help McReady load the booths. Díaz, go stand by the lobby doors to let the buyers in, and tell the guard to take your place when you do. Ms. Martinez, you and Mr. Smith will have to give up your seats. We’ve got a full house. Snap to, people. Three minutes to auction.”
Arvik turned and hurried toward the stairs that led to the audience before Balton could stop him. He saw Gray helping Martinez lead dazed, trembling Smith out of the aisle and toward the far stairs to the stage.
He stood near the doors, but not in range to be hit by them. The muted lively crowd noises behind him interfered with his ability to hear conversations from the stage. Balton led his group of board members to the chairs, where Gray and Martinez had already ensconced themselves with Smith.
Aldenrud, Balton, and Costigan had their he
ads together, looking down at something on her tablet.
Perry and the other guard swore loudly when they realized the first booth door wouldn’t stay closed. They jiggled the lever and pushed with their hips, but as soon as they let go, the door swung open.
Balton strode over. Arvik hid a smile, knowing that to Balton, all magical problems looked like a nail. Sure enough, his hammer of a spell blew the door off its hinges. As a bonus, the doors of the next two booths popped open as well.
“Magister Balton,” said Costigan, “please go sit with the sales clerks. They may need your assistance if a buyer causes trouble.” Her tone brooked no argument. In the auction space, she ruled with ruthless efficiency. “We’ll use three booths. Perry, McReady, Foster, you’ll be at the booths. Magister Díaz will let the buyers in and seal the doors, then come up here to keep the shifters quiet. We’ll skip the hands-on inspection period of the merchandise. Buyer pays first, then we hand over the prize.” She smiled briefly. “We’ll throw in the shackles as a free bonus.”
She said something off-mic to Aldenrud. He replied and pointed toward the back doors. She shook her head and said something else, pointing to the board members. He frowned and stalked over to stand with them.
By Arvik’s count, everyone was in the auction area. The remaining two cashiers sat at their desks in the far corner, near the stairs. If nothing else had, the skeleton staffing would have told him the owners had decided the business was a lost cause.
“Magister Díaz, open the doors, please.”
As he did so, her warm, professional voice boomed in the buyers’ lobby, inviting them in for the most exclusive sale the auction house had ever offered.
He hid his impatience as the thirty buyers sauntered in, some laughing, some holding drinks, all holding numbered bidder cards. A few gave him casual glances, and one gave him an empty champagne glass. Active wizard magic, mostly illusions and enhancers, pushed at his senses.
As soon as the guard cleared the threshold, Arvik shut the doors and tripped the charmed locks, which armed the rest of the defenses. The lobby and the stairs to the surface helipad featured a dozen painful-to-lethal failsafes designed to keep captives—and non-paying buyers—from getting away.
Dire Wolf Wanted Page 4