by Seere, Diana
“What about Rick the Prick?” Sam asked, eyeing the lump with distaste.
“I’ll send someone down to deal with him,” Manny muttered, pulling a device out of his pocket and beginning to type.
As Zach pressed his large palm over a silver plate on the wall of the elevator, Sam felt another wave of sensation, sharp and intoxicating, wash over her. The sensation in her ear wasn’t pain this time, but something else. A buzz with rhythm, almost like music, like singing. As if fate were calling her.
She took a deep breath and carefully tied her hair back so it wouldn’t get in her way.
She was ready to meet her fate.
More than ready.
* * *
Tomas made it easy.
Too easy.
The rising anger, starting at the base of his tail, climbing up along his spine and spreading slowly with a determination that spoke of permanency, was simultaneously exquisite and horrifying. That his old friend could push him to this—to the point of killing him—was maddening.
But worse? Allowing the monster to live.
Having Eva by his side was small comfort. As they made their way down to the Novo, he picked up on a vibration, an essential hum he had never felt before. It washed over him like a sudden, violent rainstorm, a burst of energy that consumed more than it gave.
Eva paused, her cat eyes catching him. She felt it, lids narrowing, gleaming eyes turning to suspicious slits.
The elevator doors opened, and they walked into the Novo Club, no need for caution in their animal state. One fundamental difference between his human and animal form was the lack of fear. Fear directed too much human behavior. It sickened him at times. In wolf form, what drove him was power. Order. The alpha wolf who was on the hunt for Tomas was more akin to Asher’s true spirit than the human patriarch who ruled over the unruly.
Sensing a change in the air, he walked with more deliberation, already fluid movement becoming elegant, dreamlike. His vision sharpened, then blurred, coming to seconds later with a different quality, depth perception changed. The edges of all objects were fighting with each other for focus, moving in and out as if changing location before his very eyes. Night vision sharpened, the shadows revealing secrets his regular sight could never uncover.
And then his heartbeat doubled.
Samantha, he thought before the truth enraged him.
No.
That was not his beloved One’s heart inside him.
Pain radiated through his chest, making him shudder, Eva’s questioning eyes turning to alarm as he shivered, his body out of control, paws grasping for purchase on the suddenly slippery stones.
“Asher!” Edward shouted, appearing at the far end of the lounge, shifting as he took each step until seconds passed and his youngest brother’s cat face was before him, clothes in shredded rags in a line that told the short history of his quick evolution.
Tomas, he wanted to say to his brother, but both knew why Asher was shaking.
A bear and a tiger came quickly, but not sprinting, toward him, both stopping as Edward moved to stop them, gently inserting his body at a diagonal to block Asher off as if they sensed his pain. Words were unnecessary as they communicated with instinct, with thought, with determination.
With a singular goal.
Closing his eyes, Asher felt Tomas, could sense the coiled readiness within his old friend’s bones. This showdown was imminent. Fighting to the death was no longer a question.
If anything, it was an answer.
Blinding pain took over, shaking his brain like a centrifuge. He steadied himself with a deep focus that turned intention into physical response, the pain in his skull banished to another time, another place. Volition made him open his eyes and look around the room at his loved ones, Morgan’s snake slithering between Derry and Lars.
Tomas would never come into the open at a disadvantage.
And then he saw his army again.
This time from the other side of the room.
His eyes became a split screen, looking at the faces of his pack while also watching them from behind. Ringing in his ears stopped abruptly as his eyes darted over Derry’s head to the long, dark hallway that led to the private suites for out-of-town shifters.
In the glow he saw himself.
Himself.
Seeing the world through Tomas’ eyes suddenly made complete sense as his brain hummed with pain, his hip burning hard and bright. If he looked down at his own haunch, he might find himself on fire, the burn so strong he suspected he was radioactive, glowing. Tomas could do that, he knew.
Tomas could do far too much.
And that unchecked power would ruin the world.
Unclenching his back muscles, he willed himself to move weight from one leg to the other, loosening his tongue from pressing against his canines, making room for blood to pump through him hard, fast, unbidden. Blood raced through him, paws tingling, fur puffing up to dominate. The rush of engagement that came with physical battle never failed to fill him with a sick pleasure.
Yes, pleasure.
One had to experience a thrill at the moment of the first strike, at the feel of kinetic energy that expanded as it pushed against another’s will, their paws and teeth weaponized to kill. Without the will to fight back, how could you win?
And will required willingness. Desire. More than acceptance, much more than resignation, certainly.
Channeling that willingness into less civilized parts of him would come at a cost later, should he survive.
The fact that survival was in question would have triggered fear in his human form.
As a wolf, it triggered nothing.
For he would survive.
Cat eyes that looked like twin pools of reflecting water in the distance moved closer, achingly closer as they multiplied, turning into an army of floating water spots before his eyes.
Derry tensed, pulling up on his back legs, instantly towering over the crowd. He roared, moving with unexplained redirection toward Tomas, blocking Asher’s view until he dropped. Asher’s eyes adjusted, realizing why his brother behaved just so.
There stood Jess and Molly in the hallway leading away from the lounge, both holding each other’s hands.
Surrounded by huge cats, none of whom Asher recognized.
The group moved as one, robotic and alarmingly conformist in their steps, as Molly shouted, “Don’t do anything, Edward!” in the second before he saw his brother lean on his back paws, ready to leap.
“Derry, no!” Jess cried out as the enormous bear lumbered toward her, eyes wide, claws curled.
“The auras, Edward!” Molly shouted. “We need the orange aura!”
Orange? Asher frowned, taking it in, remembering Zachary’s words from the prophecy:
In the universal year after the Mayans are proven wrong
The fox shall gain full power in a rising alliance with the king of the wolves.
But do not be fooled, oh—
For only the pure wolf shall win. Should the fox join with the wolf, both shall reign.
If the wolf’s blood is infected with betrayal, the fox must kill him.
She cannot alone.
Tiny visions have eternal power.
None of the cats with Molly and Jess were Tomas, he knew. And cutting the fiend’s scar out of Asher’s body had helped, but not enough. Whatever controlled these strange, stiff cats who threatened his sisters-in-law was inside him, in his blood, a tiny, microscopic indignity that—
Tiny.
Tiny visions have eternal power.
Wolf’s blood is infected with betrayal.
My God. The prophecy. How could they know? How could someone hundreds of years ago possibly know that Tomas would infect him? What mystical power threaded itself through space and time to tie him to an ancient book that allowed the holder to control the fate of the shifter world?
The elevator behind them hissed as it prepared to deliver someone. Tomas? He tensed, ready.
Unbearably ready.
Samantha. Fox. Orange.
No.
No.
Samantha could not possibly be here for this.
Where is it? Tomas asked, suddenly inside his head. The image of the book appeared next, implanted by some external force. He shook his head, watching Molly, watching everyone, watching time itself creep past with the stealthy evil of a thief.
Where is she? the voice asked again, turning Asher Stanton into a killing machine.
Ding!
Turning, he saw two visions at once, his own body twisting to see the elevator doors as they opened, and the doors from a different angle. A low, sinister purr filled his throat, one he rejected wholly, one that felt unctuous and tasted like betrayal.
Get out, he called inside his own head, ordering Tomas to leave, casting him from his body like an exorcism.
Samantha stood in the open elevator doorway, a nearly human-sized wolf next to her. And Manny, carrying a medical kit of some kind. Did they really think such meager human tools could be helpful in this battle?
Ah, but Samantha held the universe in her hands, the old book from the wine cellar pressed against her breasts, knuckles white like polished bone. Was Morgan right? Was the book at the ranch the correct one? Tomas could not know.
That was their only advantage now.
That and their morality.
“Asher,” Samantha gasped, moving toward him, the cats around Molly and Jess beginning to yowl.
“Sam!” Molly cried out, pointing to her. “It’s time! Your aura! My God, it is you!”
Molly dropped to the ground, pulling Jess with her. Soon the cats covered the human women, and all he could see was black.
Samantha reached for him, her fingers hard and tight, grabbing his shoulder, her grip resolute just as Zach lunged, leaping over them, joining Derry and Edward as they moved on the cats.
He knew.
She was clear. This was their fight. Not his alone.
Should the fox join with the wolf, both shall reign.
Chapter 21
Sam watched in horror as Molly, her old friend, disappeared with Jess under the swarm of cats. She gripped Asher’s fur, insisting he stay with her and fight at her side. They had the book—she clutched it to her chest—and now they had each other.
With its wingback leather chairs, fireplace lighting, and mahogany tables, the Novo Club’s entrance lounge was as old-fashioned as an English gentleman’s club over a century ago. Men in white suits would serve drinks to men in black suits, all very civilized.
But now it was a nightmare.
Instead of a butler, a powerful snake slithered between the chairs and tables, and the place was overrun with snarling, giant cats. Manny, pushed aside by Asher in his wolf form, took a defensive position at the elevator doors, protecting their backs.
Where is Tomas? She scanned the room for any sign of her old employee. Was he the one directing the cats, who moved strangely, unnaturally, as they jailed Molly and Jess with their slithering, feline bodies? They didn’t seem right, not like shifters or wild animals, but she couldn't be sure.
Sam moved forward. Molly wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Sam—she had to do something; she had to help. Hadn’t Molly herself just said it was time? Something about her aura?
No! Asher said in her mind. Let Derry. And Edward. Their women, their fight.
She dug her fingers into Asher’s fur, angry that he was right. She felt so helpless. But what could she do that a grizzly bear could not? Derry towered over the cats and pawed at them with arms like clawed tree trunks. They screeched hideously as he swiped and roared. And Edward, as a mountain lion, had the feline grace to slide beneath the edge of the mass and attack the belly of one enormous jaguar closest to Molly.
At least Sam thought it was Molly. She saw a pale leg, a flash of blue blouse, a woman’s hand with pink fingernails, not claws.
And Zach was there too, her old colleague, the biggest wolf anyone had ever seen, a sweetheart to the core, ripping the flesh out of the abdomen of a monstrous jaguar with his teeth, the animal going limp.
One down, she thought. How many to go? How many more were there?
Her mind blanked for a split second, unable to absorb what she was seeing. Her friends were animals! They were fighting other animals, drawing blood, clawing, howling, roaring, biting, tearing…
Samantha, a voice said. Asher. I am here. Stay with me.
Of course, she replied, blinking away the shadows that were clouding her vision, encroaching at the edges. Always. Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?
A cat jumped on Derry’s back and dug its teeth into his neck. Derry roared, shattering the glass on the mantel, and tried to shake off his attacker. Another cat climbed up his legs and clawed at his belly. Zach spat out the intestines of the cat he’d bitten and galloped over the dead body to help Derry. Edward wouldn’t leave Molly, who was splayed on her back, her head visible, but her arms and legs trapped in the clamped jaws of four separate cats, their yellow eyes gleaming mindless malice. Edward paced around them, obviously frantic but unable to attack while they held Molly in their teeth.
Molly, instead of weeping and screaming, had a calm, dazed look on her face. She was looking at Edward—no, she was talking to him somehow, silently, just as Sam and Asher were speaking. They were One. They would survive this.
They had to.
Just then, Derry was able to tear away the cat on his shoulders and use its body to knock aside the one on his belly. He lumbered over to a swarm of bodies and swung again, using the dead cat as a weapon, a broom, and then Jess’ huddled form was visible. Like Molly, she was on the floor, but she only had one cat pinning her down, this one with its mouth open over her throat. Narrowed yellow eyes dared Derry to act. His wife’s neck was tiny and fragile compared to those teeth, those jaws.
So many cats—five? Eight? A dozen? They seemed to be everywhere, moving as one, heedless to their own safety. Her friends, even in animal form, had a look in their eyes that she recognized as mammalian, but these other creatures were something else.
Tomas had a lot to answer for. Whoever or whatever these cats had been before he’d corrupted them, surely they didn’t deserve the death that awaited them now.
Her limbs tingled, blood rushing to them in the flight-or-fight response she’d studied for so many years in bio classes, never thinking she’d one day truly live it. Fight? Flee?
Or die?
But then one of the creatures leaped onto Zachary’s back, closed its toothy jaws around a tuft of fur, and tore away… a piece of ear. As Zach howled, the elevator doors began to slide open, releasing one more huge cat that leaped onto Manny’s chest and knocked him to the ground before he could fire his gun. He’d already drawn it, of course, trying to save the Stantons, as always, but he’d been unable to use it. A bullet was more likely to hit a friend than a foe in this chaos. Now he was down, unmoving on the floor, his muscular body hunched over the pack Zach had given him, performing his duty even in this atrocious mess.
Sam changed her mind about the creatures—they deserved to die. They deserved it right now. Once again she tried to pull away from Asher, compelled to join the fight, do something.
And Asher’s massive wolf body nudged her farther to the side, away from Manny, away from Jess and Molly and Zach. No. You cannot join this fight!
“But they’re dying!” she cried.
Zachary is all right, see? He gets revenge now.
At that moment Zach twisted around and sunk his own teeth into his attacker’s throat. Blood was everywhere, spurting from the cat’s jugular as Zach shook it back and forth. The cat’s tail snapped around, hideously frantic, until it sank slowly and was still.
Another death. Another price for Tomas to pay.
Sam had to do something. Something, anything. Where was
the bastard? He was hiding, the coward, killing by proxy.
She remembered the book in her arms. He’d been searching for weeks, months for an old book. Nothing he did here, no death, no victory, would matter unless he had the Book.
Is this the one? she asked Asher, the pages feeling heavy, must tickling her nose. Closing her eyes, she willed Asher to answer, sensing nothing special in this particular book. Then again, she wasn’t a shifter. How would she know?
What do you think? he asked.
I think it is elsewhere, she said, feeling no magic, her mind transported to the den at the Montana ranch, remembering the music, the melody that lifted her.
Yes, he said simply. Yes.
Feeling the tingling of fate in her veins and a resounding throb in her ear, she released Asher’s fur and gripped the book with both hands. Was it her imagination, or did the fighting animals pause, their roaring and howling fading for a moment? No, they were looking at her now, bloody and bruised, gasping and snarling.
She lifted the old leather tome over her head. “Tomas! Is this what you want? You can have it, just leave us alone! Let my friends alone!”
Asher leaped in front of her, using his body to herd her back to the elevator, but it was too late.
No, it was just in time. Exactly what she’d wanted.
The large cats that did not have Jess or Molly in their jaws fell to the floor, foreheads to flagstone and wool, paws flat before them, bowing before their master.
Not Asher.
Out of the dark hallway, bigger than she’d remembered, was Tomas. As a man, like any other rich guy in a custom suit but with a gleam in his eyes that made Sam shudder. He moved with power, assurance, and malice into the room, sneering at the blood on the floor, his cringing servants.
“Give me the Book,” Tomas said. He held out a hand, then smiled.
* * *
Finally.
Fate had so many layers.
Tomas’ hand, stretched out toward his beloved Samantha, felt like his own. The Book. The asshole wanted the Book. He knew. All the speculation had been correct.