Hidden Trump (Bite Back 2)

by Mark Henwick

  More shouting and firing behind me, cut off abruptly by the scream of the train as I ran across the tracks right in front of it. Close enough that it flicked my coat tail as it passed. Then there was an unending clatter of railroad cars passing behind, with them on the other side and a long wait to chase me, courtesy of Union Pacific.

  Except, of course, they could start vaulting fences and jumping onto rolling stock.

  I sprinted back to the hotel, tossed the coat in the trunk and was merged with the interstate traffic before they’d gotten the first pickup on my side of the tracks.

  I hammered my hand on the wheel in frustration.

  I’d gotten nothing from that. Nothing. I had failed Larry and he was dead because of it. Hoben was surrounded by Matlal now. The guard hadn’t been ZK, he’d been Matlal’s elite team. They’d read me to perfection. He’d hidden his marque behind cigarette smoke and something that faked the smell of fear. He’d made me react to him, dismiss him as a threat, ignore the subtle hints of Matlal. He’d played me.

  And he’d so nearly delayed me long enough. If I hadn’t had the escape route, I’d be in their hands now.

  As for Hoben, even if I could find another clue to where he was, maybe the next trap would be better, or they’d get lucky. They only needed to get lucky once.

  I was wrong about there being only one thing to make Larry’s death worth something. There were two. I’d accepted responsibility for him. He was dead, but his kin weren’t, as far as I knew. I felt in my pocket and retrieved the scrap of paper he’d given me when we started running at Cheesman. He hadn’t expected to get away. Underneath the grief, I felt a pull as deep and strong as the ocean tide. This was some coded message to find his kin, and I would. They’d become my responsibility, part of my Athanate House.

  On my Blood, Larry, I so swear.

  I left the Jeep at Diana’s apartment in her underground garage and walked back to Manassah. I was tired, but too pumped up to sleep, so after a shower, I went back through Matt’s reports and his fresh updates, forcing myself to concentrate.

  Matlal first. On the surface, he was as Bian had described him: glossy. His main company, and the source of his fortune, was Bioteca Eztlian, a biotech company based in Mexico City. To this, he added a thriving cattle business, based on ranches all over Mexico, and strangely, companies growing and selling flowers. He supported urban renewal projects, zoos and orphanages. By the evidence of the photos and media releases Matt had cropped, the man had to be on first-name terms with every politician in Central America and half of them in South America. His actual politics didn’t seem strongly defined, though a couple of Nahuatl groups claimed his support. ‘Wannabe Aztecs,’ their opponents called them dismissively.

  Matt hadn’t been as lucky in finding out Matlal’s history. The story of barrio to boardroom on the official websites seemed way too slick. It was so unbelievable, it almost felt true.

  Similarly, substantiated criminal connections were thin on the ground. Unsubstantiated rumors had him the puppet master of the whole drug trade from Columbia to Mexico. El Jefe Sombra.

  Equally difficult to pin down was anything outside of the official scope of his biotech company, which rumor said included bio-warfare and illegal genetic experiments.

  There was nothing that was going to help me particularly over the next few days, but I like to know my enemy, and I didn’t consider it a waste of time reading the report.

  Matt’s additional report on the animal attacks and the correspondence surrounding them were gold dust for the meeting with the Weres the next day. My gut feeling had some backup now. He’d even found some more references to the FBI Project Anthracite, and some exchanges with police consultants that hadn’t made it into the police reports.

  In the end, too many things still sat uncomfortably in my mind, and I’d hardly exercised this week, other than some running in the park. I changed and crept downstairs into the gym.

  An hour later, I finally lay down on the practice mats to catch my breath and chill the sweat. The uncomfortable, itchy feeling wouldn’t leave me, but I closed my eyes for a minute.

  I walk upstairs. I need no lights, but the darkness in the living room is absolute until she spits brilliant blue flames into the fireplace.

  Tullah sits asleep on the sofa again; the room is cat’s-cradle-full of twisting dragon.

  “Kaothos,” I say, folding myself down cross-legged on the floor.

  “Amber Farrell,” she says. “You spoke to Tullah’s parents and they warned you?”

  “That you will be evil and exceed Tullah’s ability to channel energy. Yes.” I see no point in disguising what I’ve been told.

  “And your feelings about this?”

  “I’d still prefer to make up my own mind on the first.”

  Kaothos ripples, reflections shimmering along her scaled flanks. She seems pleased. “I would like to propose a community,” she says.

  “Of two?”

  “Of many. What is a House but a community? You have advantages for me that Adepts do not have. And I am sure I have advantages for Hana that other wolf spirits would not. Those would be advantages to both of you, too. And Tullah needs your help and guidance to realize her potential.”

  “What are these advantages?”

  “That will come in the process of learning for both of us.”

  “Well, while it’s all so vague, so’s my answer.”

  Sizzling noises of dragon laughter.

  “Cautious…maybe that suits our little community, surrounded by enemies. Do not speak of this, Amber. Amber.”

  “Amber? Amber?” Tullah shook me awake. “What are you doing sleeping on the floor?”

  I was in the living room. There was a fire in the hearth.

  Chapter 28

  THURSDAY

  I came off Deer Creek and after a couple of wrong turns down twisty roads, managed to find the way to the ranch.

  I stopped outside the entrance. The sound of my door closing was as loud as a shot in the still morning. I leaned against the car and looked the place over. I was about to meet a pack of werewolves and my stomach was churning. How would they react to Athanate mixed with Were? Depending on how things turned out, was this my pack?

  A rambling house was tucked away to the right, half-hidden by a waving screen of maple and cottonwood trees. Behind the house, dark green pine stretched up the hill and I could almost feel the cool air leaking out from the shadows, all the way down to the gates. A yard with farm buildings and equipment dominated the middle ground. A solitary man sat tinkering with an engine in front of one of the sheds. To the left, in an overgrown meadow, a huge, ancient wooden barn leaned drunkenly over some antique harrows that were disappearing beneath the grasses. In the fall sunlight, the whole place was as bright and shiny as the opening scene in a horror movie.

  If the Weres were here, I was certain there would be someone watching me. The guy by the engine hadn’t so much as lifted his head. That could be either good or bad. Only slightly more terrified than when I’d stopped, I got back in and drove up to the farm buildings.

  The guy at the sheds was Leatherface, I decided, in keeping with the horror movie scenario, though I’d happily change it if he introduced himself. He didn’t. His nostrils flared and he went very still. I tensed, but all he did was point with one oily finger over at the old barn.

  I thanked him and walked into the meadow, my backpack slung over my shoulder. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my back.

  The grasses were tall and dry, rustling as I passed. I wasn’t sure about wolves, but I could have hidden a platoon of snipers in the grass, and from the itchy feeling, others were definitely watching me now.

  The barn door opened smoothly, mocking the dilapidated look of the place, and I stepped inside.

  It was stiflingly hot and humid.

  Bright sun sliced through gaps in the walls and roof, illuminating nothing and making most of it seem even darker. Across one bright bar, a freaking huge wo
lf padded, left to right, golden eyes staring at me. Then it was still. I looked towards the dark parts, willing my eyes to adjust quicker.

  The place was full of wolves. I could smell them, long before I could see them. Wolves don’t have a strong smell, but a hint multiplied enough times would get through to anyone, and my Athanate-enhanced nose was sharp. Mixed with wolf was the smell of hot hay bales.

  When my eyes adjusted and I did see them, I wished I hadn’t. I knew a werewolf could be four feet tall; I’d seen them on security camera footage. But it’s one thing to know that, and another to be surrounded by a pack of them, the size of small ponies. They were panting. I hoped it was the heat.

  I made out Alex in the gloom. Fall colors and pale ruff. Beautiful. Yes, and deadly. I’d never seen him in wolf form before, but my nose confirmed it was him as I knelt down. I knew next to nothing about Were, certainly nothing about the way they reacted when they were in wolf form. I reached out, very slowly, and gave him a very gentle hug.

  A low rumble, not threatening, came from him, and I stood up, reassured. But I wasn’t here to see him. I had no idea why everyone was in wolf form, but I guessed this might be some kind of test. I noticed there was more space around Alex than most of the others. And I got a feeling that he wasn’t happy about it.

  “Felix Larimer?” I said to the darkness.

  “Here,” a voice said from the back of the barn. “Watching you with your pet, Athanate.”

  “And there was me thinking wolves don’t make pets,” said my demon. “Or are you just the manager of this pet shop?”

  A wave passed through the wolves like the wind through the grass—a subliminal growl. Not smart, demon. I had to keep up the face, so I walked to where the voice had come from, in the deepest dark.

  “Are you stupid or suicidal?” he said.

  “Neither. But I am so pissed off with the macho games that you and Altau play.”

  “Then why are you playing Altau’s games for him?”

  “I’m not here on his business. I’m not even here with his approval.”

  The pressure of the growl lessened fractionally.

  “Interesting. You might even be telling the truth.”

  I didn’t reply. I was staring at the place his voice came from and willing my eyes to resolve his face from the shapeless blur I could make out.

  “I don’t need them to tell me you’re frightened,” he added. There was a hiss of fabrics moving against each other as he shifted. He was sitting in a canvas chair. “I like that. It’s appropriate.”

  Fair enough.

  “Great. If we’ve gotten that part out of the way, should we talk about why I’m here?”

  The growl was back, like fangs pressing on my neck. I held up my hands; I got the message. He was the one who introduced topics.

  “What are you exactly, Amber Farrell?”

  “I’m exactly tired of being asked that. What do you think?”

  The ghostly shape changed as he got up and walked towards me, resolving into a man, taller than Alex, with peaked black hair and deep-set eyes, bright with that untamed wolf look. His mouth was hard and thin. He wore a cream linen jacket over a white shirt and dark jeans. He carried himself with a tenseness, like a boxer in the ring. His forehead was gleaming with sweat.

  “What do I think?” he repeated. “Athanate, partly. Aspirant?” He sniffed and frowned. Instead of pacing to and fro, he abruptly stepped forward right in front of me. I steadied my reaction down to a twitch, and fought to stop my weight from coming forward onto the balls of my feet, consciously loosening my fists and trying to breathe evenly. He was staring down at me. Wolf dominance games, or something else? I raised my head to look him in the eye, then thought better of it.

  But I sensed from him that raising my chin was good. Just as it had been with Skylur. Expose the neck. Do these bastards have any idea how similar they are?

  I could feel a change around me as I tilted my head back. A softening of the press of hostility.

  My heart stuttered again as I caught movement above me. There were more of them in the rafters. Nothing I could do about it now. I closed my eyes and willed my heart rate down.

  Larimer bent over my neck and snuffled. I held my tongue. Literally, between my teeth. I didn’t need the demon running off with it and making comments about sniffing my butt. Heart rate edged down. Breathe in. Breathe out. Flow like the river. He wasn’t going to bite.

  “Well,” growled Larimer, and I took that as permission to bring my head back to the normal position. He’d retreated into the half shadows and resumed pacing.

  “Well,” he said again. “I could believe an Athanate plan to seek some advantage from stealing Were by infusing them somehow.” He turned and turned, staring at me from the dark. “But infusing an Athanate with Were? Not something Altau would do intentionally.”

  The pressure dropped a fraction again.

  “This was nothing to do with Altau,” I said quietly.

  He grunted. “And how has it gone down with that stiff-necked bloodsucker?”

  “If you mean Skylur, not well. They’re concerned.” I didn’t want to go into the details, but Larimer pounced on my vagueness.

  “Why?”

  “The mix is unpredictable.” I stopped, but he wasn’t going to take that.

  Trust and Jump, Farrell.

  “They’re afraid that the addition of Were might lead to instability,” I said. “Either Basilikos or rogue.”

  He growled, but not directly at me.

  “So, not quite Altau. How does that work?”

  “I’m a separate House, allied to Altau.”

  “I see. Oh, very clever. Close but not too close. Certainly close enough to fix in an emergency.”

  I was puzzled and he read it.

  “Not taking you into Altau until he can be sure of controlling things. Not letting you disappear elsewhere, and let others make trouble with you. Expecting me to keep the Were sane, while he controls the Athanate side.”

  “But,” I protested, open-mouthed, “he hasn’t said anything like that. He hasn’t asked me to come and see you. He hasn’t—”

  “Did he forbid you to meet with us?”

  “No, but—”

  “Could an intelligent person have assumed that even if you didn’t come to us, we would come to you?”

  I shut up. It was like standing on sand, feeling the sea eat it away beneath me. But Diana had suggested I become House Farrell. Before Alex infused me.

  “He hasn’t told me anything like this,” I said.

  “Altau never does,” snarled Larimer. “What he says and what he wants are two different things. He’s only happy when you think you’re doing what you want, but you’re actually doing what he wants. He leaves you guessing. And if you guess wrong, the consequences can be fatal.”

  He stepped back in front of me again and glared down. “Here,” he rumbled, “we say what we mean.”

  Crap. He was wrong about Altau. Surely, he was seeing layers that weren’t there. And equally, Altau were wrong to leave him festering like this. He wasn’t someone to be treated like that. I wasn’t going to play the two of them off against each other, but in the short term, I needed to keep my neck whole, and that meant going along with it, with both of them.

  I ducked my head. Good girl. “I understand.”

  He wheeled back into the shadows, doing a circuit. Sensing the reaction of the pack for all I knew. I hoped I felt an easing towards me and hopefully, that meant towards Alex as well.

  “You realize,” he said, “that Alexander’s marque is now at odds with the pack?”

  “I wasn’t sure,” I replied. “It seemed possible, but I had nothing to check against.”

  “Check it now.”

  I went back to Alex. Now, concentrating on it, with the pack to compare it with, the difference was obvious. There was a hint of the exotic, sharp fragrance that made David and Pia different from Altau.

  “Different,” I said humbly
, returning to my place. I couldn’t see where Larimer was.

  His voice came from the side. “Neither of you have the pack marque. Neither of you is pack. And how do you expect me to deal with this?”

  I cleared my throat. “Like Altau. A separate affiliate?”

  “In my territory?” Larimer was suddenly in my face, making my heart jump. But long hours of being intimidated by hardcore instructors in the army let me deal with it inside. I’d even fallen into a parade rest.

  “Yes,” I said, focusing my eyes about the level of his collarbone.

  His hand lifted my head till I was looking directly into his eyes.

  “We’re not like Athanate. We don’t have charters. We don’t do paperwork. We don’t do oaths.” He measured my reaction before going on. “A temporary arrangement, while we investigate you,” he said. “You show up, where I say, when I say, at least weekly. You do exactly what I tell you.”

  “I can’t give that last promise.” My voice sounded weak, but there was no point agreeing, only to be told to do something like betray the Altau. “I’ll try and do what you say, just as I’ll try and do what Skylur says.”

  He was looking at my throat, and his nostrils flared.

  “You should be very glad you didn’t lie to me,” he murmured. Then he twisted and stalked away. “I expect you to comply with the rest.”

  There was a long pause. Larimer’s boots clicked on the wooden boards. There was a scrabble of claws and whispers of hay as wolves eased their positions around me.

  “If not for Altau’s business, why are you here?” he said, eventually.

  “Because we have a problem.”

  “‘We’? Oh, I like that, I think. At least more than ‘you.’” He waited, then went on. “Tell me about ‘our’ problem.”

  “There’s a rogue werewolf killing humans in Denver.”

  The tension soared in the barn again. Larimer swayed back into one of the slanting beams of light. His eyes disappeared into shadow pools.

  “We have learned discretion. We do not kill humans. Usually.”