Bite Back Box Set 2

by Mark Henwick

I left the good-nights behind quickly. I needed a shower. I needed to scrub myself clean. I probably still had traces of Victoria’s blood in my hair, touching my scalp, and the thought of that made me shudder.

  When the last of the blood was gone, maybe I’d have gotten rid of these disturbing sensations of this power urging me to use it. The feeling of it.

  Maybe.

  Scott had managed to make it through the shower and toweling himself dry before his tiredness had taken over. He was sprawled stark naked on the bed, dead asleep. So much for him sleeping on the couch.

  I snorted and left him there. My shower was more important than shifting him. Or ogling his body, however pleasant.

  I turned the jets and steam on full. For a few minutes I was blissfully alone, hidden from the world as I scrubbed any last remaining traces of the fight from my body.

  Alone with my thoughts.

  What if Diana hadn’t completely cured me down in LA?

  What if this was my madness coming back?

  No. The power was real. It had leeched body mass from Victoria and added it to my wolf jaws. An average adult wolf might have a jaw force measured at about 400 pounds per square inch. A werewolf would be bigger and stronger, but not strong enough for the bites I’d made. The strength in my jaw had built and built, relentlessly. What had it reached? 1000 PSI? Higher? That was hyena territory.

  A whisper of a voice reached me. Tolly, sitting in the darkness telling me what his cousin, the Lyssae we called Anubis, would say about magic: keep well away from magic, especially dark magic.

  And we called him Anubis because, although he was Athanate, he’d part changed like a werewolf, and had a dog-like face. What if that wasn’t a dog, but a hyena face?

  What if using dark magic like that would make me end up a Lyssae?

  Tired as I was, that kind of leap almost seemed to make sense to me.

  Crazy! Stop it.

  Yes. And that was why Adepts sometimes killed crazy people, because part of being able to use the energy was sheer belief, and some crazy people had more of that belief than people who weren’t crazy.

  It didn’t feel crazy, this power. It felt scary. I liked scary. I’d made my living in Ops 4-10 throwing myself out of the back of aircraft, at night, with nothing but a rubbery suit and a too-small parachute to carry me down safely. I liked danger and thrills and adrenaline.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the power.

  All I really could do was admit to myself, hidden in the steam with my mental shields up, that the power was exhilarating as a nighttime parachute jump.

  Even more.

  I wanted to use it again.

  Why shouldn’t I?

  I’d be in control. I’d use it for the right reasons.

  The circling thoughts eventually died down and I got out of the shower, feeling clean and exhausted. I might actually be able to sleep once I cooled down.

  The whole bathroom was steamed up, so no glimpses of me in the mirror. Nothing to send my mind off down another track, wondering what had happened to Tara.

  I walked out into the bedroom, naked but for the towel I was using to dry my hair.

  And sensed someone else in the room.

  Chapter 32

  “A soft-boiled Amber. All hot and pink and wet. Cute.”

  I had to laugh. “What are you doing here, Bian?”

  “Skylur’s orders.”

  “Our lord and master instructed you to enter my bedroom in the early hours of the morning?”

  “Well, not exactly, but I have some latitude in how I carry out my instructions, Round-eye.”

  I snorted. So much for falling asleep.

  I had gotten sleepy, otherwise I’d have noticed her arrival much earlier. But it seems I’d juggled one hot potato until it was cool, only to have another tossed at me.

  Just what was my local Athanate boss doing that required her to visit me at a time she’d legitimately expect me to be in bed?

  Blood. Or possibly body and Blood.

  I got goosebumps and my neck muscles went all loose in anticipation.

  Carefully avoiding Scott sprawled on the side, I sat at the end of the bed and continued toweling my hair. I was still naked. I guessed putting on a bathrobe wasn’t going to achieve very much at this point.

  “Let’s get this lump into the bed first,” Bian said. “I’ll pick him up and you sort out the sheets.”

  Scott was in one of the deep sleeps that characterize Athanate in crusis and Were in transition. We could probably have tossed him on the floor without waking him, but I guessed the bed was big enough, so we might as well put him in it.

  She lifted him and I pulled the sheets back, allowing her to arrange him neatly.

  Then she took the sheets from me, but paused before covering him.

  “Pretty,” she said. “Your new sub-House knows how to pick them.”

  She angled her head as she looked up and down his body critically. “I love them like this. All limp and vulnerable. It’s so cute.”

  I laughed. “You’re just being rude, Pussy-cat. Leave the poor boy alone.”

  She smiled and tucked him in.

  Since she didn’t seem in a hurry to jump me, I put my bathrobe on and we curled up side by side on the semi-circular sofa in the bay window.

  I could never be absolutely sure which Bian I was dealing with. She could switch from serious to playful to predatory in the space of three breaths. So far tonight, I’d gotten the playful. I searched her face for clues and found she also looked tired to the point of exhaustion. And worried.

  For me?

  “Congratulations on winning the challenge and dealing with the ambush,” she said quietly.

  “Uh. So, what does Skylur think of it all?” I knew those orders—she had to report to Skylur anything of significance in Denver, day or night.

  “He’s worried, and when he’s worried, he changes things. I think he’s satisfied that Felix and Cameron have now put in place protections for you from the werewolf side—”

  “He called them directly?”

  Shit. In the middle of the night. I was going to leave it till the morning. Morning as in when the sun was up.

  “Yes.”

  I chewed on that. I was supposed to be syndesmon, the ambassador, between the Were and the Athanate. He wasn’t supposed to talk to them on significant issues without me being briefed and giving an opinion, or even being present. I guessed if I challenged it, he’d hide behind the argument that the conversation was about me personally, rather than about Athanate-Were relations.

  I’d have to let it pass.

  Bian had waited, letting me think it through. She resumed. “Security is a growing concern. I’ve started a couple of processes. Hear me out.”

  “Okay.” Duly warned, I settled back, crossed my arms and pinched my tongue between my teeth.

  “I’ve just called Victor Gayle about the security for Manassah.”

  I grunted.

  Vic had been getting twitchy about the number of people from his security and investigation agency he was committing to guarding a house which, as far as the personnel could see, wasn’t under threat. Vic himself had some idea that there were threats, but without bringing him and the whole security team into the paranormal secret world, we couldn’t brief them thoroughly. And as Vic had pointed out, badly briefed security is only one step above no security, let alone the danger his unsuspecting people were facing.

  Again, Bian waited before continuing. “So they’re now being phased out to go back to normal security and investigation work, and in their place, Skylur’s assigned some of our Ops 4-10 troops.”

  “Neat solution,” I said. Ops 4-10 veterans knew about the paranormal and had volunteered to join. “But they were supposed to be spread all over the country to provide security for all Athanate Houses.”

  “They still will, but you come first.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’ve also been talking to
Alex.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Alex had gone to Haven. Why?

  “About what?”

  “Your new, very large and unwieldy pack. Whatever did you think?” She fluttered eyelids.

  I ignored the teasing. “What exactly about the pack?”

  “What to do with them. Haven is now Hotel Werewolf. Skylur’s ordered that Alex gets whatever he needs. Place for the pack to stay, jobs, transport. All for asking.”

  Alex hadn’t even had time to call me about it. Looking at it soberly, on the one hand, that was a lot of good news about our pack. On the other...

  “What’s the cost for all of this?”

  “How did you become such a cynical woman, Amber?”

  She hooked an arm around me and pulled me into a brief kiss and cuddle.

  “Relax,” she said. “Despite appearances, Skylur regards you as a vital cog in his Emergence plans. ‘You’ includes your kin and your House, and your relationship with the werewolves, so that includes your pack as well. He needs that relationship to be secure and stable, not distracted by the logistics of your new pack. The same thinking applies to establishing a relationship with the Adepts. Any help he can provide toward getting Tullah and Kaothos back together is all wrapped up in that. No obligations on your part, other than to keep doing what you’re doing. As long as you achieve complete success of course.”

  I snorted.

  But... the Athanate and Were worlds were looking out for me. That part felt good.

  Whatever fine words Skylur had used, they weren’t really able to help with the Adepts. That part came down to me. Responsibility and danger all twisted together.

  “Now, as for me,” Bian said, her voice going all smoky, “I might have a couple of favors I want to ask, in due course. But for now...”

  “Yeah?”

  Her voice changed to brisk and businesslike. “I’d like to sleep here, and I’d like to use Jen’s conference call system in the morning, in...” she glanced at her watch with a sigh, “a little over five hours’ time.”

  When she said ‘here’, I knew she meant in the bed in this room.

  “Sure. Mi casa and so on.” I made my voice as nonchalant as I could. “What’s so important about the conference call?”

  “Orders from Skylur. Every major House.” She got up, yawned and stretched. “He’s picked a new Diakon and wants to introduce them.”

  “Huh? Oh. Yeah.” My tired mind caught up: Skylur had burned through his Diakons recently. Bian had been his Diakon, replacing Naryn originally, then Naryn had come back, then Tarez briefly had filled that role down in Los Angeles. But all three of them were now set up in key locations—LA, Boston and Denver. They couldn’t be spared.

  Skylur would need a Diakon, and he’d need one in New York, full time.

  For a moment, I panicked. Yelena!

  But no. That wouldn’t go down well with the Panethus Houses. Although Yelena had only been in Basilikos Houses as a spy, there was the minor matter that she was Carpathian originally. Not a good political move for Skylur to steal her as his Diakon.

  No. He’d play it safe. Someone to keep the Panethus party happy.

  “Go to bed, Round-eye.” Bian disappeared into the bathroom and I heard the shower start up a minute later.

  I switched the lights off, shucked the bathrobe and slipped under the sheets on the opposite side from Scott.

  Incredibly, I was almost asleep when Bian returned, warm, naked, and smelling of my shampoo and Jen’s minty toothpaste. Naturally, she decided she wanted the middle of the bed and climbed in all over me.

  By the end of that, I was most definitely not asleep, but all she did was curl up alongside me.

  I kissed her forehead.

  Deep breath.

  “What do you want me to do, Pussy-cat?”

  “Hmm?” Her voice was blurry. Then she switched to Vietnamese, which really threw me for a second. “I’m sleepy. Tell me a bedtime story, sister,” she said.

  Not what I was expecting.

  Strangely enough, it was something that was easy for me. When I’d learned Vietnamese in the army, one technique our tutor used to fix the sounds of the language in our heads was to make us recite simple children’s stories from memory.

  I cleared my throat and began.

  “A long time ago, a beautiful princess lived in a great city, a wondrous city, a city whose temples overlooked the bay where the Mother of Waters met the endless shining sea...”

  “I love this one,” Bian murmured.

  “Every day as the sun dipped and the cool breezes began to waft inshore, the princess would walk barefoot on the soft sands and listen to the tales that the Mother of Waters brought all the way from the distant cloudy mountains, the strange land where it was always cold and the wind blew night and day. Where the people sewed their prayers into flags and hung them out, so the wind snapped and flapped the flags and lifted their words right up to the ears of the gods.”

  “Mmmm.”

  I barely got past the introduction of the fierce red dragon that lived at the top of those distant mountains, and Bian was so deeply asleep, she rivaled Scott.

  Me, I was wide awake.

  Chapter 33

  Bundled back into my bathrobe, I padded barefoot into the dark living room, which was lit only by the glow from the embers in the fireplace. I was unable to decide whether I was frustrated, relieved or amused by Bian’s simply falling asleep after I’d wound myself up to be a good little Athanate subordinate for her.

  Not so much winding up needed really.

  It wasn’t worth trying to go to sleep now, and I might as well use the time to think through what had happened over the course of this night. But I wasn’t so self-absorbed I didn’t register there was someone else in the living room.

  “Thought you might have trouble sleeping.” Amanda’s voice spoke softly.

  “You too?”

  “Mmm.”

  I fixed myself a rum and joined her on the sofa in front of the fire, where she sat, all tucked in and wrapped in a large fleece blanket.

  We touched glasses. She was drinking one of Jen’s favorite brandies. The aroma mingled well with her scent and the wood smoke from the fire.

  “How’s Kane?” I said.

  “Upset, but not so angry now.”

  “I’m sorry to put your House under strain. It’s not something I planned.”

  “I know that.” She sipped her drink. “Flint has helped a lot. He’s calmer about it.”

  “Yeah, he would be. It must have been a hell of a shock for Kane when I pulled that power through him.”

  “Hmm. Flint reminded him about that aural projection you all did. There wasn’t anything dark about that.”

  Hearts not beating. Limbs not moving. Seeping slowly into the frozen ground. Cold as eternity. Cold as the stars in the night sky. Cold as death.

  I shivered. Projecting my senses into trees was not going to become my favorite pastime.

  And it wasn’t the same as pulling that dark power—not at all.

  I got up and put another log on the fire.

  Amanda had unraveled her blanket and held it open when I turned back to the sofa. We wriggled closer and tugged the blanket until we were cocooned together.

  It was little things which kept catching me off guard: the speed with which Amanda had become part of my House; the way sharing warmth felt so natural, as if we’d been doing it for ages; the way her marque had become familiar.

  My fangs pulsed, reminding me there was some unfinished Athanate business there. Familiar wasn’t good enough.

  I sipped my rum, concentrating on the smoky taste, then reached out to place the glass on the side table so I could snuggle lower into the blanket and pull my arms inside.

  “I suspect...” Amanda started and frowned.

  “Yeah?”

  “Like Nick said, that what they use isn’t so different. It’s all on the same spectrum. I think that may be what disturbs Kane so much—the thoug
ht that he might be using magic that comes close to what he says disgusts him.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t judge. They have more relevant experience.”

  She shrugged. “Anyway, they finally got off that and changed to discussing whether they can do the direction-finding spell that Weaver mentioned.”

  “And?”

  “They think they can, if they use your power boost, like they did for the aural projection.” She smiled. “And then they got very quiet and thoughtful. I decided to leave them to it.”

  “If they can work with me, I’d rather work with them than Weaver. I know I’m not being fair to him. He’s the head of the local community and only doing what he has to, but...”

  “Well, I think you’re being excessively fair to him, from what Kane told me. Anyway, we should talk about direction finding with Flint and Kane tomorrow.”

  We listened to the fire crackling as the log burned. Watched the light dance. It was comfortable. Relaxing.

  “Am I crazy, doc?” The joke question slipped out before I could catch it.

  She laughed.

  “Sorry,” I said immediately. “I’m not being serious. It’s probably the question you dread being asked as a psychiatrist.”

  “You mean in the middle of the night, wrapped in a blanket, drinking in front of the fire, and being asked by someone I haven’t even done an assessment session with?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  I leaned my head on her shoulder, ready to fall back into companionable silence.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said. “What makes it different is you’re the Mistress of my House. You get to ask me whatever you want, whenever you want.”

  I chuckled.

  “So what specifically made you ask that question?”

  Oh. She was taking me seriously.

  There had been shrinks assigned to the unit back in my Ops 4-10 days. I’d steered clear of them as much as possible, but if they’d run cozy sessions like this...

  “I can’t even convince some people that I had the spirit of my dead twin sister in my head. Now I’m pulling on some dark power and I can’t tell if it’s something inside me or outside, evil or just powerful, and whether I want it or not. I don’t know.”