Salvador sidled up next to her. “Well, you know you were right about John hiring entire mercenary companies,” he said as Gia backed away. Belatedly, she let his concrete shield crash to the ground.
“Yes, I’m very insightful,” she said dryly, surveying the wreckage. The soldiers had regrouped. A man inched toward the door of one of the vehicles.
She put her hand out and made a fist, crushing the SUV into a ball.
“Like it was tinfoil,” Salvador muttered. “Cool.”
“How are we going to get out of here now?” the woman near them protested, apparently feeling brave enough to get to her feet.
“Sit in each other’s laps,” Gia snapped. “Since you don’t have a copy of the Covenant, here it is.”
She waved her hand, inserting the long string of words directly into the woman’s brain, a spell Gia hadn’t had to use in decades.
The woman collapsed to her knees, crying out, “Hey.”
“I could have just emailed it to her,” Salvador said, waving his phone. “Or we could and probably should wipe their memories.”
Gia rubbed her head, mulling it over. Technically, she had been in this position before, having to choose to wipe a mixed group. She had done it without compunction, but as this shitshow had just demonstrated, this was an all-new ballgame.
“Just the humans,” she finally decided, rubbing her eyes.
“Wait,” the woman cried, but it was too late.
Salvador had prepared for this. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a vial, and unstopped it. Throwing it wasn’t necessary. The smoky white fumes rushed out like a giant snake—as if they were eager to escape.
But it was Salvador’s guiding hand that made sure they only enveloped the humans.
As one, three men and the other woman dropped to the grounds.
“What did you do?” the female soldier asked, whipping around to gape at the fallen.
Gia held up a hand. “I take it your compatriots know your true nature,” she said, nodding at the female and the remaining three shifters. On closer inspection, only two were wolves. One was a cougar while the other was something small and furry.
“Your badass mercenary crew has a rabbit?”
“How did you know?” the huge muscled soldier who shifted into a floppy-eared bunny said in consternation. He spoke with a thick Bavarian accent.
“How do you not know who she is?” Salvador asked, waving his hands to encompass Gia.
“Sal,” she said, touching his arm.
“To be this old, they must have run into other shifters,” he grumbled. “They should know.”
Gia shrugged. “The world is a big place, and they are still young.”
The shifters were under thirty, probably recruited from all corners of the globe judging by Peter Rabbit’s accent.
“What do you know about the guy who hired you?” she asked the woman.
“Nothing,” she replied, throwing up her hands. “Just a bank account. It was supposed to be a simple job—secure the warehouse. Collateral damage acceptable.”
“Wow, did you get set up,” Salvador muttered. “Someone is tossing professional soldiers and hapless Supernaturals at an adversary they don’t have a chance of defeating—namely her and her sisters,” he said, pointing at Gia.
“Do yourself a favor,” Gia said. “More of the same is coming. Convince whoever signs your checks to sit this one out.”
She turned back to Salvador, gesturing to the prone humans. “How much did you take?”
“A day or two,” he replied, crossing his arms. “It depends on biochemistry.”
“A touch excessive,” she conceded. “I will have to ask Dalasini to work up more precise charms.”
Gia turned back to the shifters. The woman had gone to one of the fallen men, gathering him into her arms.
“Under most circumstances, exposing the Supernatural to a human is a violation of the Covenant. Exceptions for close friends and family have been made, but your trust in them must be absolute. So, carefully choose whom you decide to tell about yourself and what you are from now on. Knowledge of us cannot spread—for now,” she added
Even as she said the words, she began to doubt herself. The Mother was no longer here. What impetus would any Supe have to keep Her most sacred laws now? Other than I said so.
Sighing heavily, she conceded the truth. The Covenant would have to be amended to reflect their new reality.
“I suggest you pile into the car you have left and go,” Gia told the female wolf. She thrust her thumb at the warehouse. “Because I’m going to tear that place up to find whatever I can on the man who hired you. Then I’m going to burn it and its contents—which is buckets and buckets of poison intended for domestic bioterrorism by the way.”
She shifted, prepared to send a pulse into the ground, a message for Diana to join them.
“It’s okay. I texted Alec,” Salvador said, reading her mind. “They’ll be on their way when they wrap up their business. Alec’s warehouse and the one Daniel found were also real. They got similar receptions.”
“Mixed groups again?” she asked.
“No. I checked. Theirs were all human.”
Good. “Then tell him to wipe their memories. If there’s nothing leading to John, raze the warehouses to the ground. Then we need to put those two on another task.”
“Which is?”
“Tell Alec and Daniel to do what they do best. Follow the money. This time, though, follow it to the bank accounts these mercenaries were paid from. It’s our best shot.”
He nodded and got to work, taking a moment to help the shifters load their unconscious people into the remaining vehicle, stacking them like cordwood in the back. And despite the fact those same soldiers would have shot his ass, he did it gently—because he was Salvador.
Gia walked into the warehouse, heading for the stairs leading to the office above the ground floor. From the vantage point, she could see the rows and rows of barrels, each full of enough toxic bullshit to take out a legion of Supernaturals.
Well, it would never touch them now.
Her hands fisted on the rail, and she felt him. John’s imprint was on the wood. “Can you feel me, alchemist?” she asked. “Because I’m coming for you.”
40
“Well, I’ll be damned.” John brushed off some of the glass that had fallen on his shoulder. He hadn’t taken the news that his warehouses were gone all that well.
The wreckage of his laboratory was proof that even after all this time, his temper still had a cutting edge. But the picture that was attached to the end of the email had just turned his world upside down.
No word from the team yet. I don’t expect they survived if these creatures are as dangerous as you say. The feeds caught a single image of the assailant, and only from a great distance. Once the team was in range, all the cameras cut off, so this is the best image we are likely to get. I’ve blown it up for you, but there is a substantial loss in resolution. Nevertheless, you can make out a man and a woman standing on top of the warehouse, waiting.
But the picture quality didn’t matter. He would have known that head of lustrous dark hair anywhere. As a bald man, he’d always envied it.
Gia had somehow survived his toxin. It shouldn’t have been possible, but she was stood next to the disgraced Delavordo heir—the healer. It was explanation enough.
I should have tried to recruit that one myself. Oh, well.
Glass crunched beneath him as he made his way to the rear of his trailer. He’d attached an extra storage unit to the hitch in the back. It contained a half-a-dozen barrels of his toxin, the last he had left in the world.
For a minute, he debated starting again, but the idea made his balls itch. Make more, try to wreak havoc, and almost get caught. It was a vicious circle.
Except the Elementals would find him before he could produce the amount he’d had stored.
Belatedly, he noticed he was bleeding. A shard had caught his finger. Sucki
ng at the drop, he shook his head. He was forgetting himself, who he really was…
It was his own fault. He’d changed his appearance, lived under an assumed name for so long, he’d forgotten just how bad he was.
No, it was time to write the end of this saga. But how?
Suddenly, it came to him. Of course. He knew when and where to finish this—even how to deliver the message. The Earth Elemental was the key. He knew her history—knew everything about them.
Alistair Crowley, the wickedest man in the world, rubbed his hands together. If he had to go out, he would do it with a bang.
41
Logan busted into the safehouse library, running with Connell nipping at her heels.
Gia looked up from her place at the computer, rising when she noticed her sister’s urgency.
“Did one of the others find a lead?” she asked.
Logan stopped short and opened her mouth, then clamped it shut as she held up a finger. She appeared ready to explode.
“What is it?” she asked, concern creasing her brow.
Logan’s delicate features tightened. Her hands fisted, crumpling a card she held in her hand.
Gia’s head drew back. “Logan?” she asked, brows raised. But her sister was impotent in her rage. Connell cleared his throat, but his growl was thicker than Gia had ever heard it.
“The asshole is calling us out,” he said, plucking the card from his mate’s hand and handing it to Gia.
Frowning, she took the card. “An engraved invitation?” she asked in disbelief.
The card was a heavy cream stock, with gold letters. The first line read: The honor of your company is requested…
“It’s not so much an invitation as a summons to the battle,” Connell growled. “Complete with hour and place.”
Frowning, she scanned to the bottom. When she read the location, her expression hardened. Then, she laughed. Logan frowned as if Gia had gone crazy.
“You okay?” Logan asked, recovering her voice, although her face was red.
Of course she doesn’t know. She’s too young, and I never told her the details.
Gia shook her head, putting her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever said this about anyone before, but I’m going to really enjoy killing this man. A lot.”
Mara narrowed her eyes at her father. He held his arms out while Logan’s mother Hope added a final flourish to the sigil she’d just painted on his chest. Personally, she thought it would have been easier without all the hair on his pecs, but that didn’t seem to bother the woman much, mainly because as soon as she finished painting the rune, it disappeared, melting into his skin as if the mix was pure alcohol and not eleven magical herbs and spices. The chest hair didn’t affect the absorption one way or the other.
Mai was doing the same with Derrick, who, in Connell’s absence, was the pack’s third—after her. A long string of shifters, both male and female, were lined up along the wall, waiting for their turn.
“Is this really going to make us bulletproof?” Derrick asked skeptically.
Mai, who had been doing his sigils, popped her gum in his face. She waved her brush in the air. “Don’t be stupid,” she scolded. “If you run into a hail of bullets, they aren’t going to bounce off you like you were Superman. Quite the contrary. They will be attracted to the sigils.”
“Wait, what?” Derrick growled, grabbing her wrist. Mai glared, whispering something. With a yelp, he let go of her arm, shaking it as if it stung.
Mai smirked.
“Sister, behave.” Hope tsked before turning to Derrick. “But Mai is correct. They won’t make you bulletproof. Even my Logan can’t do that. Only Gia wields that power because of her affinity to metal. So, we’re doing the next best thing.” She waved a delicately manicured hand over Douglas’ chest. “The bullets will be strongly attracted to this region here, pulling away from your head and extremities.”
“Yeah, that sounds great, but what about our hearts or vital organs?” Derrick asked sarcastically. “Or do we not need those anymore?”
“The sigil-covered area will be protected by your body armor,” Douglas said in a warning tone.
“But then we won’t be able to shift,” Salome pointed out from somewhere near the end of the line.
Mara took a deep breath, calling on her small reserve of patience. The fact Salome was allowed to go to this battle, but Mara had to stay here to protect the homestead, was a major bone of contention between her and the chief. But she couldn’t continue to argue with him about it because as the pack’s interim number two, it was her job. Or so the chief kept telling her. Somehow, she doubted he would have told Connell to stay home, but she couldn’t point to their history to argue the point. This upcoming battle—in Ecuador according to the fucking invitation—was an unprecedented situation.
“That is where Hope’s long study of war comes in,” Douglas said, breaking into a grin that warmed exponentially when it lighted on the woman in question.
Hope backed away with a benign nod. She left the room but returned a few moments later with a set of the new tactical armor in hand.
A pack as large and as old as theirs had a lot of resources. Shifters were protectors. Most had done stints in the military or various law enforcement departments, but as her brother’s attack a couple of years ago had proved, they weren’t bulletproof. Body armor that could adapt to both their human and lupine forms was the holy grail. A few decades back, her parent had founded a company for the sole purpose of creating it. But there had been a number of setbacks.
However, Hope studied war as a profession. She was a much-lauded professor of the subject who was invited all over the world to give lectures. Hope was familiar with every general in the world, even the most obscure. She knew more than tactics, however—she knew about their customs and their arms. Being a kickass witch meant she could apply what she learned in new and innovative ways.
Hope held up the armor. It looked like a thicker, padded version of an eighties-era bodysuit—the kind that snapped at the crotch. “This suit is spelled to conform to you, transitioning to fit both your forms. Mai has also contributed, imbuing their fibers with extra-absorbent powers. Any impacts should be muffled.”
She broke off, then addressed the chief. “How many of these did you say you had?”
“Enough. I would like Mara and the older children to be fitted for one as well. Just in case.”
“Yeah, I wish,” Mara muttered. She could only hope she would need one. Not that she wanted the pack children to be in harm’s way, but it chaffed she was being sidelined from the action.
Hope threw her a commiserating glance, but her father ignored her as usual.
“We can do that,” Hope assured him.
Mai appeared next to her, blowing a bubble that popped with a snap. “Well then, we better get our butts in gear. This line isn’t going to finish itself,” she said, waving at the waiting shifters.
“Of course,” Hope said, affectionately squeezing her arm. Mai moved back to the line after giving her what was—for Mai—a friendly nudge. “Next time, it will be your turn, I promise.”
Mara nodded, wishing it were true.
She watched the sisters work for a while, moving with that same airy grace their daughter possessed. Her father did the same, but his attention was restricted to one sister.
Mara wasn’t the only one who noticed. Wolves were the nosiest of all the Supes, and many an eyeball tracked Hope as she worked.
The rumors had started the minute they arrived. The pack wondered if the father would go the way the son had. And despite Logan’s obvious status and power, not everyone was happy about her and Connell’s union.
If her dad seriously pursued an outsider like Logan’s mom, there would be a lot of unhappy wolves. Even a defenseless human woman would be preferred—they wouldn’t threaten the established pack hierarchy.
The woman in question didn’t seem embarrassed or put off by the collective scrut
iny. In fact, nothing seemed to faze her. Hope continued, a bright and open presence so incongruous with the steely inner strength she so obviously possessed. Just like Mai, who was a bundle of razors and knives wrapped in gauzy butterfly wings.
A few minutes later, Hope passed Mara’s father, giving him a smile. But to Mara’s eyes, it was no more personal than the ones she gave anyone else.
Maybe the pack grumbles and complaints weren’t going to be the problem after all. Perhaps the bigger issue would be something else entirely. Like the most powerful wolf in the Americas getting his heart broken…
Well, look on the bright side, she told herself. They could all still die.
42
The bright full moon illuminated the thickening ranks of the opposing army. What had been an empty field just an hour before was quickly being filled by human soldiers and Supes bent on killing them.
There were more than Salvador would have guessed. According to Alec and Douglas Maitland, some were known quantities on the side of the black. A coven from New York, some Russian shifters, not to mention the crew from the Fae Black Darrig. There were others, too, but his stomach had started to hurt so he’d decided to stop counting and asking for names.
“What is the point of letting them assemble and line up again?” he asked with a grimace.
Gia didn’t answer. She stood alone at the peak of a small rise. Just behind her were Serin and Logan. A few feet away, Diana stood next to her mate.
The air felt oppressively heavy. He nudged the vampire. “Um, I get this is a showdown to the death, but why is everyone so grim?”
The Elementals were trained warriors. From what he’d seen, they enjoyed their work. And the wolves—they freaking loved fighting. Yes, he understood the importance of this particular fight, the gravity of the situation. But the Elementals should have been pumped to mete out justice to the man who had betrayed them and the misguided idiots who followed him.
The Elementals Collection Page 110