by Mark Henwick
Ricky’s voice distracted me. He gave me the address of an apartment building next to the railroad tracks in Arvada, not half a mile from where Detective Clayton had been killed in his single-wide last week. Luckily, we were already heading in the right direction. It felt right in the Call as well.
Pia fed the address into the GPS, while Jen called Bian to tell her what was happening. I winced as I imagined Naryn’s reaction.
“Okay, we’re on our way,” I said to Ricky. “Now, what’s this all about?”
“It started out with her old boyfriend and a couple of his friends wanting to persuade her to come back into the pack.”
“What right do they have?”
“None. They’re boneheads.”
But it did show that the pack wasn’t completely happy with the arrangement that Felix, Alex and I had managed.
I understood the old boyfriend complication. Alex had explained it to me. Guys that brought their girlfriends into the pack felt a sense of ownership. Given the ratio of male to female werewolves, some female wolves had a couple of partners. But Olivia hadn’t made that choice. She’d decided Ricky was plenty for her. The old boyfriend would have been pissed to lose Olivia, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Ricky was senior.
But losing Olivia from the pack—it might have made some twisted sense to him that he could be the one to try and get her back.
“Nick picked her up and took her to his apartment, thinking that would defuse it. It didn’t. The other guys followed. That’s when Olivia called me.” I heard Ricky take some deep breaths. “Here’s the situation, from my point of view. Getting Felix or Alex involved as pack alphas would make it official, and then everyone will want to have their say, and everything will be talked about. That brings the focus back on having two packs sharing territory. Now, I’m talking out of turn here, but my advice is that the longer you let it go, the more used to it people get and the easier it’ll be to keep it going.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“You’re not your pack alpha. You’re an alpha pair, but Alex is dominant in wolf form. You deal with these boneheads, and it remains unofficial. Kick their asses and those guys won’t want everyone to know what they did. I’m on my way back now, and when I get there, believe me, they’ll be sorry they started this. It won’t happen again. But none of that applies if someone gets killed, or Nick gets any more involved. Or anyone from outside the pack. Better if there’s no one else, in fact—that’ll give no reason for Felix to be involved.”
“I can understand killing would make this official. What’s that about Nick? He’s not an alpha.”
“He’s a skinwalker. Were don’t trust skinwalkers, and why should we? Noble was a skinwalker and he tricked us for years. The pack’s all about belonging, and skinwalkers don’t. If the boneheads make it about Nick, and he’s part of your pack, we’re back to square one.”
“Okay.” I sighed. I just had to work with it. “Got it. What’s the situation now?”
“Nick and Olivia are in the apartment. The boneheads are outside, working themselves up or waiting for reinforcements. We don’t know. They aren’t answering calls from me, not surprisingly. Nick understands, and he’s trying not to respond, but he’ll have no choice if they break in.”
Pia turned off toward Arvada.
“We’re there in five,” I said.
I was about to end the call when Ricky cleared his throat. “Look, there’s something else you should know,” he said. “Olivia doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“What?” It came out sharper than I intended. I had enough on my plate.
“She’s next up.”
I had to strain to hear him. “I don’t understand,” I said.
“Kyle, last week. He was the longest surviving of the halfies.”
Halfy was the ugly name they had for Were who couldn’t manage the change. And a Were that couldn’t change died from it, in appalling pain.
Kyle Larsen had been a halfy. He’d died. He’d tried to change; almost the whole pack had been with him up at Bitter Hooks for his final desperate attempt, but their support hadn’t helped. In the end, they’d had to kill him, as a mercy.
My breath caught in my throat.
“She’s the longest surviving now?”
“Yeah. And this kind of thing doesn’t help.”
The cell went quiet.
I’d made a commitment to Olivia to help her. It wasn’t anything to do with being Were or Athanate. My great-grandmother had been an Arapaho shaman called Speaks-to-Wolves, and I believed she’d helped Were who had trouble changing. Felix didn’t believe it, but he’d given me a clue to chase: a necklace handed down through the family that was involved in the ritual. Unfortunately, I had found out a couple of days ago that my sister had thrown it away.
Had that ruined my chances of helping Olivia? Was it too late to find an alternative?
Pia turned into the road leading to Nick’s apartment.
I needed to say something. “I’ll do everything I can, Ricky.”
“I know,” he said, and his voice lowered. “She believes in you. Really does.”
I ended the call and bit my lip.
No one had ever told me life had to be fair, or promised that problems would come at me one at a time. I just had to do what I could. And pray it was enough.
Chapter 7
“Amber, I gave Bian your message and she’s on her way to help,” Jen said as we came to a halt.
I groaned. “Ricky said no one else should get involved. I’ll have to make this quick.”
I had a head start on Bian and maybe ten minutes to deal with this. Me against three hyped-up werewolves. No killing them. Piece of cake.
The apartment building was old red brick, a rectangular block three stories tall and a half-dozen apartments wide. Dark rust stains from the iron balconies ran down the brickwork, looking like dried blood.
Ricky had said Nick was holed up in 312, on the top floor facing the railroad tracks.
The Nissan pickup truck that Nick had rented was parked on the side of the building, with a brand new Dodge Ram 1500 behind it, blocking it in. The Ram had tinted glass, a custom paintjob in gleaming midnight blues, and a bulging air scoop erupting out of the hood. I’d bet my last dollar that belonged to someone in the pack. There was no sign of them, but the building’s front door was open and the lock busted.
One way of breaking things up would be to put a brick through that pretty truck’s side window. They’d be down investigating the alarm quickly enough.
But this had to be kept private. The fewer witnesses the better. And catching them inside might work in my favor; narrow corridors would prevent them from getting behind me.
I wanted Julie with me so bad I could taste it, but Ricky had been clear. No one else.
Pia was unhappy. Bian had told her to stick with me and it took a direct order for her to stay in the car.
I slipped into the building’s lobby and stopped dead.
This was like a nightmare that wouldn’t go away. I could smell Matlal.
No! The Matlal in Denver are dead. This isn’t a trap.
This must have been where they were staying when they were in Denver. Nick had tracked them down. He’d seen the boneheads following him and he’d decided to come here for a reason.
No witnesses?
It made sense. The place felt unused. Floors were bare concrete; the walls had marks and gouges where furniture had been moved carelessly. Along with Matlal, dust and decay, I could smell mold. And fresh scents of the pack.
I could hear them as well, screaming at Nick and Olivia and hammering on the door, swearing they were going to break it down if Olivia didn’t come out.
I sprinted up the stairs, pausing only to check the echoing hallways. I didn’t want a surprise coming up behind me, but the place seemed genuinely empty.
They were making so much noise they didn’t hear me. They didn’t even smell me until I was standing in the hallway.
I growled. I wasn’t trying to change to wolf, but my throat made sounds that I couldn’t normally. I had to swallow before I could speak, and even then, my voice was an octave lower.
“Ricky is going to be so pissed at you boys,” I said.
“Farrell! You jumped-up bitch. We’re going to fix this for good now.” He was a big guy, body sculpted like a boxer, with a strut like a farmyard rooster. I made him as the ringleader, so he got Bone One as his target name. Neither Ricky’s name nor my status seemed to have any effect on his intentions.
“Time for you to leave Denver,” he snarled, and started stalking at me as if he were confident I would turn tail and run.
Bone Two followed. He was tall and gangly, with arms like a wrestler. He moved with a loose assurance in contrast to the tight, controlled actions of Bone One.
“Time for you children to learn manners,” I said, and backed up till I had the stairwell on my right. Nothing like gravity and some hard steps to deliver a pounding to the unwary. They were still restricted by the width of the hallway to come at me one at a time, or lose the mobility of their arms.
Bone Two worried me. Bone One was too worked up to think straight. I couldn’t see enough of Bone Three to make a judgment.
I didn’t have any time, either. Bone One launched himself at me.
He showed he had experience fighting. In a bar, or on the street, especially given his Were strength, he’d be formidable. He relied on that strength, speed and aggression. Most opponents would be overwhelmed and quickly defeated.
Good thing I wasn’t most opponents.
In this close-quarter roughhouse, the odds were against me: I was smaller and lighter than them; I had less reach; I wasn’t as strong as they were. In my favor, I was quicker and stronger than they were expecting. Best of all, I was far, far more violent than they’d come up against before. Not wild violence. Studied, deliberate violence.
I couldn’t avoid his grab for me, so I went in and met him, hard and fast. I shattered his nose with my forehead, while the heel of my right hand punched upwards and broke ribs. Then my left fist came up and slammed into his throat.
His arms flailed around to grab me. It was a bad idea to let him turn this into a trial of strength. I’d lose that. But I was too close to get away, and besides, the momentum was with me. So I kept straight on, shoving him back into Bone Two. When he stumbled and lost the opportunity to protect himself for a second, my knee went into his groin.
And when he doubled over in pain, I stiffened my hand and drove my knuckles into his eyes.
Bone One was out of it, and I lost a second pushing him down the stairwell.
In that second, Bone Two caught me.
This was bad. His arms pinned mine to my sides. He was too tall for me to hit him with my head and too smart to let me kick him in the balls.
I’d started to drop as he caught me, so I straightened my legs, using his grip on me to lift him. That surprised him, even more when I ran. He was off balance, but light-footed enough not to trip. We crashed into the wall behind him. His breath rushed out, but his body was braced.
I tried to stamp down on his foot. He nudged me off line, then he returned the favor, lifting me and running at the opposite wall.
We both grunted at the impact. It felt like a horse had fallen on me.
Short of dancing backwards and forwards like drunk teens at the prom, he had a couple of options. His best one was to wait for Bone Three to help him, but I was sure he was going to try and slam me into the floor. Until he did something like that, I was out of options.
Very, very bad.
There was a thud down the corridor that distracted him and I got my legs going, pushing him backwards again. He half tripped and I twisted in his grip and lowered my shoulder. When we hit the wall, the point of my shoulder went into his belly and then up at his ribcage.
He grunted again, but this time I screamed. That was the shoulder that Frank Hoben had damaged just before the Assembly. Even with Athanate healing, it wasn’t a hundred percent, and it hurt.
There was another thud that I could feel through his body, and his grip loosened even more.
I heaved him away.
Olivia’s third blow with the wooden chair leg broke it in two over his arm.
With his arm out, and his head wobbling dazedly around, he made an easy target. My punch to his jaw snapped his head to the side and he dropped to the ground, folding silently like an old coat.
Bone Three was cursing and struggling to stand up. Olivia had only hit him the once.
I kicked him onto his back and bent over him.
This time, my growl was pure liquid rage. It poured down onto him and pinned him to the floor. His eyes bugged and he started to shiver uncontrollably.
When I got my voice back, it came out low and cold. “Take your friends and get the hell out of here. Stay away from Olivia. If I ever see you again, I’ll rip your throat out.”
I stood back and let him scrabble to his feet.
Nick had come out of the apartment after Olivia, and now he lifted Bone Two up by his jacket like he was a trash bag. He dragged him downstairs. On the way he picked up Bone One, who was waving his arms feebly and croaking unintelligibly. Bone Two was completely out of it, his body hanging limp and his boots thumping down from step to step. Bone Three scurried after them.
I didn’t think I’d see Bone Two or Three again. I wasn’t sure about Bone One.
I watched them as far as the next floor and then turned to Olivia.
Of course she wouldn’t have crouched and cringed in the room. She’d been waiting for the best time to come out and make it count. Nick couldn’t get involved in the fighting, but she could. The pack probably expected her to.
I hadn’t factored that in. I hadn’t thought of it at all.
“That was great,” I said, still panting from the effort. “Good work with the chair leg. Thanks.”
She nodded jerkily, stepped in and hugged me.
I slowed my breathing, suddenly feeling dizzy.
She nuzzled against me, wolf-submissive, her spiky red hair tickling my cheek and her body trembling with adrenaline aftershock.
This was a good thing for the pack; it comforted her, reinforced the pack dynamics and fed my alpha ego. But it was more than that; it was mainlining werewolf feelgood into me. My lips pulled back in a silent snarl of pleasure and I struggled to get air into my lungs.
A good thing for the pack; not a good thing for me at the moment.
A thought bubbled up from my murky hindbrain: There might be a way of saving Olivia without any Adept magic or rituals. Make her a hybrid like me.
I felt the Athanate fangs pulse in my jaw.
She sensed my body stiffening and looked up.
“Oh.” She gulped. I could feel her willing herself to stop trembling, and very deliberately, she rested against me, head tilted back and throat exposed. What was she doing?
“I understand pack means House as well for you, and I understand about the Athanate side of things,” she said, voice strained. “I’m just nervous. I want you to know I’m cool with it.”
“Huh?”
“The Blood…and the other stuff.”
Not content with feeding me werewolf crack, she was now doing the same for the Athanate. She hadn’t been willing to share herself in the pack, but she was committed enough to my pack and House that she was willing to be kin, with all that entailed.
She was safe from me in bed. Her neck, though, maybe not so safe.
Pia was following Nick up the stairs. She could feel what was going on, and she was worried I was going to lose it and start biting.
I forced a brief laugh, and managed to put the fangs away.
“Thanks.” I kissed Olivia’s forehead. “The Blood, yes, in time. The rest? It’s not going to be like that. We’ll have to talk it through sometime.”
Bian came up the stairs as well.
She was wearing her college girl hoodie and jean
s. She had a long sports bag slung over her shoulder, hiding her katana no doubt, and she carried her laptop. Prepared for anything.
“Just saw the cutest little truck take off in a hurry. Did I miss all the fun?”
“Yeah. Pack business all concluded.”
“Hmm.” Bian stood in front of me and looked thoughtfully between my face and Olivia’s. “I have the impression Olivia’s part of your House.”
“She is.”
“Then that makes it House Farrell business, Amber, and it makes it House Altau business too.”
I nodded. Yup. Complications everywhere. Nothing in isolation.
“If it hadn’t been important in the Athanate sense,” she went on, “you’d have had no grounds for delaying your talk with Naryn. It was only because I convinced Naryn it was House business that he’s not angry. Uh, let me rephrase that. Not any more angry.”
“Thanks. I guess we should hurry out to Haven then.”
“No.” Bian turned her gaze onto Nick. “Since we’re here, we might as well deal with your request for a meeting. That’s Athanate business too, I’m guessing.”
Her nose flared. “We could start with why this building smells of Matlal.”
Nick shrugged.
“It belonged to them. This is one of the places they stayed when they were in Denver itself.”
I’d expected Matlal’s troops to be somewhere more luxurious, but it was well hidden.
Of course, Nick had warned me before what he wanted to talk about with the pair of us.
I’d let him introduce it. I’d pissed Bian off enough for one day.
Chapter 8
I guessed he wanted some privacy, so I sent Pia and Olivia down to the car.
“Let’s sit down,” Nick said, and led us back into the apartment.
It was clean and tidy—no mold or scuff marks, and it smelled of pine-scented cleaner and lemony air freshener. Doors off the main room were standing ajar, and showed a small bedroom and bathroom. French windows opened onto a tiny balcony which looked straight down onto the railroad tracks. A breakfast bar cut the room off from a cramped kitchen area, and the main space was taken up by a glass-topped coffee table surrounded by an old leather sofa and chairs.