Silver Bound (Sammy Davis Book 1)

by Holly Rutan

  "No family!" squealed the rat girl decorating his cast in dismay. "Well, we'll have to fix that."

  This caused the rest of the room to sputter with laughter.

  "A human? A naked, hairless pink skin? Really, Annabelle," one of her sisters said in dismay, finally noticing what the other girl had been drawing.

  The other rolled her dark eyes. "She never did have any taste. Figures she'd go for a black coat."

  "Hey..." Rendall started.

  "I...I just meant he needs someone to take care of him," Annabelle stuttered. "He's so busted up they're putting him in a chair! And him with no family! How's he going to get food?"

  Every were in the room just looked at her, with expressions ranging from pitying to amused.

  "Oh no," Annabelle moaned, and sank down to press her face into Rendall's side. He paled, drawing a breath between his teeth in a pained hiss. The wererat drew back hastily, and I averted my eyes while the two got situated more comfortably. The other two ratgirls left their perches on the edge of Rendall's bed, looking annoyed and whispering to each other.

  "All right," Charles said, easing himself away from me and out of the hospital bed. "It's time to get the ball rolling. Samantha needs more sleep—"

  "I feel fine," I interjected, swallowing a yawn. "Just the food settling, that's all..."

  "And someone will have to explain the facts of life to Rendall so he stops looking so confused," Charles continued, ignoring my protest.

  "Irwin and I will have to stay, so I'll do that," Moira offered. "You're still responsible for Irwin until the partner swap goes through, and I don't want any missteps until Admin finalizes that paperwork."

  "Partner swap?" I asked, confused. What had gone on while I was sleeping?

  Moira’s eyes sparkled. "Seemed like the simplest solution. I always wanted a talking chipmunk."

  Somewhere inside her shirt, the talking chipmunk uttered a tiny snore.

  "He's faking," Charles warned her. The snoring stopped.

  "I know," Moira said, flashing deep dimples in a mischievous grin. She reached into her shirt and pulled out Pygmalion, which caused Bruce to cough and turn his back as several of her shirt buttons came undone. The familiar's stubby tail flicked up and he ran from Moira's hand up her sleeve to her shoulder and cuddled at the base of her neck.

  "He never did that to me," Charles muttered as he pulled on his shoes, which had been left next to the bed.

  "You don't smell like roses and springtime, cupcake," Pyggie chirped, grooming his ears with his tiny front paws.

  "Hey," I said, losing the battle and yawning in the middle of my protest, "Charles smells nice."

  "Only to you." The rodent snickered.

  "Everyone out," Charles ordered. "What time do you want us to meet at your house, Maria?"

  "Eight," the werebear answered. "Not a moment sooner. I have much to do."

  "You heard the lady," my mate said. "Now, out. Let Samantha sleep."

  Obediently, I let my eyes slide shut. He was right; I was tired, and my meal was making me sleepier. Hands of sweet taffy pulled my mind down into slumber without a ripple. I didn't even hear Bruce's hooves clattering on the floor as my friends departed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Moira volunteered to drive Rendall and Annabelle to dinner and then back to Rendall's apartment after. The hospital wouldn't release the young agent until a care plan was in place, and Annabelle was hell-bent on taking care of him, no matter what his decision turned out to be. It was a bad situation when a were went into heat for a human, since the bond would only go one way. I didn't envy her, but at least Moira would give them the tools to make an informed choice.

  That left Charles to drive me, Irwin, and Pyggie, and I could swear the whole hospital breathed a collective sigh of relief when we checked out. The cafeteria was still reeling in shock from my appetite, and the Intensive Care Unit would never be the same.

  None of that stopped the lab from begging for a sample of my saliva for analysis, of course, so I spent several minutes drooling into a vial for the sake of science.

  "Investigations is going to want some of that, too, you know," Charles remarked on our way out.

  I shrugged.

  "It's just spit. I'll give them some tomorrow if they insist, but I don't think it'll lead to anything. Someone has to be hurt," I replied, taking his hand in mine. "I'd rather avoid that."

  "Me too," Irwin said from behind us, his voice dragging.

  I glanced at him over my shoulder.

  "You doing all right?"

  "I'll be fine in a few days," Irwin answered. "Those medmages though... No wonder Vanessa is always trolling for transfers. That job is pure hell."

  "And not getting any easier," Charles said. “Do you think you'd be able to teach that healing thing you do to any other weres?”

  "Maybe," I said. “I'm not sure how I'm doing it in the first place. When Irwin gives me the go-ahead, we can do some experiments and find out.”

  "Good," Charles said. "I think the Department is going to need the extra help. Things are bad in the city; we need to do anything we can to give all the other snaps a PR boost. People are looking for someone to blame. It's getting ugly. You'll see some of the fallout on the way."

  "They're blaming weres?" I asked, surprised.

  He sighed. "Humanity's scapegoat. Why ruin a good story with fact when weres make such convenient targets? The mages have it worse, but they also look human, so they have an easier time hiding."

  "And yet, we throw ourselves back in the fire again and again. I keep hoping someday I'll be able to walk down the street without smelling fear," I said.

  “Someday,” Charles said, echoing me. “It's better than it used to be.”

  He let go of my hand and tucked me under his arm, pulling me close. The three of us walked in silence the rest of the way to the car; Irwin was too tired to speak, and I was content to be held by my mate.

  The day was dwindling in late summer twilight, the sky dimming as night overtook day and the sun sank under the horizon. The sunset was a truly spectacular orange and dark with brown haze.

  "Is that smoke?" I asked.

  "Yes," both men answered.

  We drove through city streets that were crowded with military vehicles. Few civilians lingered in any one place; most kept their heads down and walked as though they knew where they were going. The melody was a mere whisper, slow and subdued.

  "Irwin," I asked, disturbed, "I can't hear the current. Is that the Stop Shock?"

  "No," Irwin answered. "You can't hear the current because every note in the northwest quarter of Los Angeles is currently circling in a vortex over Valerio."

  I swallowed.

  "We were breaking the Department's fetishes and drawing the stored current out of them to power our songs," Irwin continued, his voice soft and sad. "You weren't the only person to succumb to Stop Shock. We lost Paul. He just fell over. His heart stopped, and we couldn't get it beating again. Penny's strong, but if it weren't for Ricardo of all people, I think she'd have tried to storm the barricade with nothing but her service pistol."

  "Jesus," I swore.

  "A lot of good agents are gone," Charles said, and flicked on the turn signal, guiding his car to a stop in front of an orange and white barricade.

  One of the officers on guard strolled up to the driver's side window as my mate rolled it down.

  "Agent," the guard said. "Lotta you coming through here tonight. Something we should know about?"

  "A wedding," Charles lied, his voice taking on the same smooth tones I'd heard him use what felt like an eternity ago, interviewing Antonio's thugs.

  "Shit, now?" the guard asked.

  "The way I figure it," Charles drawled, "now's the best time. Lots of people are getting married right now, making it legal before we get sent off to die. We'll be off the wounded list in two days, and God only knows if we'll make it out alive a second time."

  The guard crossed himself and nodde
d.

  "You go on through, and good luck. I'll have Joey open the gate for you. You know how many more are coming this way?"

  "I don't know who's arrived yet, but there's around twenty of us total," Charles answered. "About half and half DMA and civilians. By regulation I have to stay sober even off-duty, so I'll make sure nothing gets out of hand. We'll keep it quiet and inside."

  "You do that," the guard said. "Rumor has it gatherings over four people are going to be banned soon. It hasn't happened yet, but keep a low profile just in case. Joey and I don't give a shit, but there's some people that'll obey even the most asinine orders."

  "We'll draw the blinds," Charles replied. "And thanks."

  "Be safe," the guard said, and turned away, directing his partner to move the barricade to let us by.

  I felt a little sick. Charles met my gaze, but there was no feeling of reassurance from him. He was as uneasy as I was, for all that he hid it behind his mask of unflappable charm. His green eyes were dark and shadowed. He returned his attention to the road as the white barricade was rolled away, and we rode the rest of the short trip in silence.

  It was strange to see Jorge's close-knit community so empty. No children played in the streets, and few of the cramped houses had lights on. The majority of houses had no cars in their driveways; Charles commandeered a neighbor's drive to park his vehicle.

  "Plenty of people have left town," he said in answer to my questioning look. "The evacuation area is a technically only two miles across and centered on Valerio, but that doesn't stop other people from getting out while the getting is good. Can't blame them. You can see the blue glow of the rift even through the city lights at night."

  I nodded, unable to speak through the knot of anger in my gut. As I got out of the car, my head turned in the direction of Valerio. I could feel the location like a nagging itch in my mind. The affront of my territory being stolen by hellish things made me want to howl my rage to the heavens, but I kept quiet. Yelling wouldn't fix anything, and the poor humans living nearby were scared enough without adding my howls to their nightmares.

  "Steady on, love. If you don't give yourself the full week to heal, you'll pass out again," Charles murmured, putting his arm around my waist.

  I took his offered comfort, closing my eyes. Judging by people's reactions, they seemed to change from human blue to bestial yellow when I was upset, so I forced myself to relax. There was no need to broadcast my fury to my gathered friends.

  We walked up the steps to Jorge and Maria's porch hand in hand, Irwin trailing close behind. I knocked twice, and then we inched into her crowded kitchen.

  The smell of cooking meat hit me like a hammer, driving thoughts of vengeance straight out of my head. Maria was hovering over her stove, eying huge boiling pots of sauce and noodles, and the counter was lined with bubbling, steaming crock pots. She handed me a box of dog treats and shooed us toward the living room.

  "Go. There is no room in here, and I must attend the food. Greet my mate and calm the fox. He is antsy in such a large group," the bruiness ordered.

  "Mark is always antsy," I answered, busy opening the box of treats. Catching the wild look of Maria's eyes, I hastily departed before she hit me with her spoon.

  "Sammy!"

  The vulpine shriek was only barely recognizable as my old friend's voice. I was hit by a cannonball in green silk as Mark threw himself at me and buried his face in my shoulder. I put my arms around him and held him close, making gentle, soothing noises as he trembled. The box of treats fell to the floor. I didn’t bother to retrieve them. Mark was in full voice, and no snack was capable of getting between me and his wrath.

  "What were you thinking, scaring us like that! Do you know how much I worried? I couldn't sleep a wink knowing you were in the hospital and you could have died! Did you think of that?" he yelled, voice muffled. "You could have died, and then what would we do?"

  "Carry on without me, I'd imagine," I said.

  That was the wrong answer. His head turned up like a turret to shoot me with an incredulous look from huge brown eyes.

  "Promise me," the werefox begged, "promise me you won't do something that stupid again. We need you. Do you understand?"

  "I'll make sure she doesn't work herself to death," Charles said, circling around me to pry Mark's grip from my shirt. "Don't you worry about that."

  Mark gasped and backed up a step. "Werehunter. I'm sorry! I didn't see you there! I didn't mean to offend!"

  "No offense taken," Charles answered, extending a hand. "My name is Charles, Samantha's mate. You must be part of her pack. Fox, I presume?"

  I left Charles to finish introducing himself and picked up the fallen box of treats. As I eased past the two men in the doorway, I swiped a biscuit that had fallen on the floor and stuffed it in my mouth. Irwin followed me, keeping his head down. Jorge was waiting just inside the living room.

  "You aren't getting out of it that easy, loba," Jorge said.

  The big bruin swept me up in his burly arms and hugged me, burying his nose in my hair. His barrel chest expanded as he took in my scent, and then he let his breath out in a long, slow sigh. His arms were trembling. I swallowed. My stomach sank; the biscuit felt like lead in my belly. If Jorge had been human, he would have been crying.

  "You idiot," he said, barely audible. "You stupid, stupid idiot. Learn your limits, dumb wolf. None of us would be who we are without you, and we cannot bear to lose you."

  "I'm sorry," I said, subdued. "I really didn't mean it. I was so scared for my mate that I lost myself, and I really can't promise it won't happen again."

  He released me, and my feet touched the floor again.

  "I understand," Jorge said. "I would do anything to save my Maria if she were in danger. But you do no one any good if you die and then the kin would die, too. So be careful. You have so many friends who would miss you if you were gone."

  "I'll third the motion," Moira said.

  I turned my head, taking in the contents of the room.

  Two of the three ratgirls huddled next to the television, sharing a large pillow. Annabelle was perched on the left arm of the sofa, watching over Rendall, who was installed in a wheelchair and sitting in a painkiller-induced daze. His casts had acquired even more decorations, and Irwin was demonstrating how that had happened, since the mage was inscribing his name on the white plaster. Pyggie, on the other hand, was uninterested in artistic pursuits and was busy trying to finagle his way back into Moira's shirt. She was seated on a stool near the hall, playing with the chipmunk, and every now and again fixing her buttons. Pyggie kept undoing them.

  Simon had moved from his seat on the couch to greet Charles, his golden eyes wary. They were just about to shake hands. Confident that would end with Simon trounced, I looked away, spotting Ricardo talking to Penny in a low voice. She looked up at the same moment, and her red-rimmed eyes met mine. The two had taken up a spot on the west wall, blocking the front door that no one ever used. I hoped I wouldn't have to kick my blood-brother's ass later; Penny's grief made her vulnerable.

  Bruce Simon and his cameraman Fitz stood a little apart from everyone else, watching with fascination. His short goat tail was waggling back and forth. Fitz was fiddling with his camera.

  "Yeah, I do have a lot of friends, don't I?" I said.

  “Damn straight,” Moira answered. She lifted a fist in salute. Pyggie stood on her knuckles with one of his balled paws making the same gesture. I sputtered with laughter.

  Our merriment was interrupted by a knock at the front door.

  “We aren’t expecting anyone else, are we?” I asked.

  “No, we’re all here,” Jorge answered.

  Ricardo looked through the peep hole and then opened the door a crack to peer outside, leaving the chain on. The air that wafted inside stank of sulfur and dead things. Every were in the room tensed. A low growl erupted from our collective throats.

  “Ain’t no one there,” Ricardo said. He undid the chain and let the door s
wing open.

  I saw it first.

  “Is that an envelope?” I asked.

  “Someone left us a note,” Ricardo said. “Let’s see.”

  It was written on expensive, cotton-heavy paper embossed with a watermark that I couldn’t quite make out, sealed with a bit of wax, and addressed to me. I peeled off the seal, which came free in two fragments that I set to the side, and opened it. I tried to read it, struggling with the loopy, ornate calligraphy, and then Charles took it from me and read it aloud.

  My dearest niece,

  When my sister informed us that she had tasted the blood of a relative, there was quite the confrontation at the dinner table, let me tell you! To think that our brother had committed such a transgression, and with a full human, no less! I do not blame you in the slightest for hating him, child, or for killing his shell when you had the chance. Blight knows I would kill my own sire if I could.

  Still, he did say he was trying to bring you home when you murdered him.

  Know that neither my sister nor I harbor you any ill will, although you will suffer more at our claws, nonetheless. Our father is not a kind soul. Even so, your grandfather is prepared to offer you some small measure of mercy.

  Do not interfere with us, niece, and we shall in return bring no direct harm to you or your companions.

  Please refuse, would you? I would be so thrilled to have a Kodiak for my next chimera!

  Your loving aunt,

  SIRENSONG.

  A small red rune was inscribed just under the author’s name. The moment I finished, it ignited with a sudden sour note and the letter dissolved into flame, leaving nothing but ashes on my fingertips.

  “It was written in wererat blood,” I whispered. “God help me. What am I?”

  “The same person you’ve always been,” Jorge rumbled.

  “My mate,” Charles answered, and he pulled me close against him. I cuddled into his warmth, needing the comfort. He cradled my head in his hands and brushed his lips against my cheek, and the steady glow of his love made me smile.