“I hate you right now,” he said.
“No, you don't,” Marc said. We looked at him. His eyes were oddly mischievous, and when he smiled his teeth were a dentist's orgasm. “This man smells like someone who doesn't hate anyone right now.”
“Smell?” Sarakas said. “You can smell that on me?”
“Yeah, that takes some getting used to.” I leaned in and whispered, “I've been afraid to masturbate for weeks.”
Sarakas gaped. Davey blushed and covered his eyes.
“Uh, excellent hearing, too,” Peavey reminded.
“Right, that too. A man mentions pulling his pud and it's a hilarious part of life. Women, on the other hand, can’t talk about masturbation without men getting all revved up. Life is unfair.”
“This is so inappropriate,” Davey groaned. My nervous honesty embarrassed us all.
Erik said, “How about you shut up and we all sit down?”
I eagerly settled onto the sofa, eased back, and exhaled to adjust my lungs and ribs. Erik, the brave asshole, sat next to me, and his hair billowed with a motion I'd only seen on shampoo commercials. His long white locks were straight, smooth, and freshly brushed. I leaned over and smelled it. Juniper, musk. Somehow fitting. At least it wasn't apple scented. I smiled and leaned back. Everyone stared. “What?”
“That was a very mutt-like thing to do,” Peavey said.
“I was curious, is all.” I blushed.
“Next time, be curious in your own space,” Erik said. They were right. The gesture was canine-like or romantically inclined. Couldn't decide which would be worse. I was spending too much time with these people.
“She's on morphine,” Davey said, quick to excuse my behavior.
“So, is the Russian bitch dying or what?” Peavey said.
“When no one answered our calls, we drove over to see what was going on,” Erik said. “Peter didn't let us in the house. Dude was like a wall. Haven’t seen them since, and it has been weeks.”
“All three of you visited immediately after the bomb incident?” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Well, no shit. The strongest wolves in your kennel showed up like the three musketeers when she happened to be on the brink of death. How could Peter know you weren't there to finish her off?”
Erik thought about it for a second. “Valid. Maybe he was protecting her, maybe he was hiding something. Maybe he plans on running her play without anyone knowing she's incapable of defending herself.”
“Except that she’s alive and well,” Sarakas said. “She visited a few days ago, trying to wheedle information.”
“Info on whom?” Erik said.
“Alexei and friends,” I said.
“Who is Alexei?” Sarakas said.
“Alexei is a vampire,” Davey said. “An old one. They call him Alexei the Cannibal, and he has an ongoing coup with Svetlana.”
“Vampires!” Andreas said. “Mutts and kennels are one thing, Kaidlyn, but vampires too? And one nicknamed ‘The Cannibal’ nonetheless! Are you ever not doing something potentially stupid?”
“No. Not really.”
Sarakas looked scared out of his wits. I'd had a few months to contemplate these ideas, but he met them all at once. He stared, shaking his head. “I’m going to get some Thai food. Everyone had better be gone by the time I get back.” He stomped out the door.
Erik picked up his phone. “Rainer, hi. Watch the partner, make sure he doesn’t do anything dumb.”
“Hey,” I said. “If he does anything dumb, no one handles it but me. He’s mine, and you don’t get to touch him.”
Davey snorted with laughter.
“What?”
“That was a very wolfish thing to say,” Erik said.
“Oh, shut up. What now?”
“We'll have to assume Svetlana is pissed and on the hunt,” Marc said. “She’ll start killing bloodsuckers and start an interspecies war. Is there any way we can encourage Sigurd to do something? Aren't vampires territorial? Does he have the clout to deport Alexei?”
“Sigurd doesn't give a flying poo about us,” I said. “He might encourage Alexei to eliminate his Svetlana problem. They certainly were at each other’s throats, literally and figuratively.”
Everyone stared.
“What?” I said.
“Explain what you mean,” Erik said.
“Well, at the house, Svetlana and Sigurd had a weird thing going on, kind of a sadomasochism play where they wanted to see who was stronger but still wanted to f—”
“Sigurd the vampire met with Svetlana the wolf? Christ!” Erik said. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“It didn’t strike me as relevant?” I said.
Erik leaned in real close. Super, duper close. I could see each individual eyelash. “Tell me everything.”
“Sigurd knows of Alexei, the vamp challenging Svetlana. He sure doesn’t want Alexei coming to his city. He relaxed when he realized how much Svetlana wants him dead, so I guess Sigurd wants him dead, too. Politics, right? And Sigurd has a book of names which I probably shouldn’t have stolen—”
“Wait, wait,” Marc said. “What?”
“Sigurd hopes Svetlana will kill Alexei,” I said. “Apparently the strange vamp is on his way to eat Svetlana’s heart out or something.”
“Jesus.”
“I know. Vampires, right? Now, riddle me this: is it the vamps or the mutts who are leaving slop in my city? Someone is leaving female hamburger with my name on it. Davey said someone mailed Svetlana bloody body parts. What do you guys know about it?”
“Heathcliff,” Erik said. “The parts belonged to Heathcliff.”
My jaw dropped. “Black rimmed glasses, freckles, pre-med?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“I just saw him—”
“Well, he’s dead. And someone is using my mutts to send a message to the Russian wolves. My people are paying for her sins, and the corpse reeked of vamp spit. I hope I don’t have to explain how angry I am.”
Angry enough that he’d come to me for support.
Peavey hooked his arm over the back of the couch. “Most likely, the vampires don’t care whose body they were tearing apart. They needed a wolf to send their message. They will probably leave us alone if she's gone.”
“Iago is out there, stirring up trouble,” Marc said. “Right now, Svetlana faces war on two fronts: vampires and wolves.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “I thought Erik was supposed to take care of the Iago issue. What’s the hold up, slacker?”
A growl rose from Erik’s throat. His cheeks flushed.
“Kaidlyn,” Marc said. He shook his head.
“Maybe she’ll leave,” I said. My stomach quivered, briefly nauseated. “If she wants to hold the territory, she will need more wolves.”
“She wouldn't have to look hard to find them,” Marc said. “Her territory in Russia covers two hundred and fifty thousand square miles and contains the world’s largest forests. She could hide a lot of wolves between St. Petersburg, Moscow, and Nizhniy. Not to mention Sakura's ties with Japan and Peter's influence in Germany. She has the manpower and the means, and I think vampires provided her with motive.”
“Oh, crap,” I said. “We're discussing a world war.” Not that it didn’t make sense. If vampires truly maneuvered the entire world to kill wolves as part of a PR campaign, then the war already began over ten years ago.
“Other vampires and lykos will stand up,” Davey said.
“Not to be redundant,” Marc said, “but vampires cannot fight during the day. And when is the last time they've done anything as a group? Plus, if Svetlana convinces the wolves that vampires have deliberately turned them over to the public for a genocide, as she claims, no wolf will stand in her way; they'll fall over themselves to join her.”
I groaned. “Shit keeps piling up. Marc, how do you know all this?”
“I've been doing research, listening when they talk.”
“Why don
't we ask Peter what's going on?” Davey said.
“He may be the most hospitable and diplomatic of the Russian werewolves, but he is on their side, not ours,” Erik said. “When it comes down to it, he will do what Svetlana tells him to. He loves her and he belongs to her.”
“And so he's automatically the enemy?” Davey said.
“Potentially,” Erik said. Davey's eyes narrowed to a tiny flicker of blue. It was a conversation for another time, and not one Erik was qualified to have.
Peavey paced. “We'll ask our people to keep eyes and ears open for vampire movement. It would be nice to get to Alexei before the public starts worshiping his holy vampire ass.”
“Last thing we need is a shining vampire martyr,” Erik said. “We need to stop Alexei before he makes any trouble. I won’t allow one bloodsucker to ruin the future I intend on building for my wolves.”
It dawned on me. “I think we’re too late. Sigurd used some antiquated phrases, but he mentioned how someone would court a vampire by offering sacrifices, collateral, and gifts. Said his sister received twenty mutts as a present. Lately, I’ve been working some missing person cases. Over seventy people are gone.”
“And?”
“Maybe they’re gifts. Suppose a mutt is trying to buy a vampire’s favor, and they’re snatching people and wolves to pack onto a pretty silver platter. Like a welcome basket of supernatural snack food. And if power can be exchanged through the consumption of organs—”
“Wait, what?” Sarakas said.
“Apparently the idea of eating the heart of one’s enemy to gain vitality has credence. Sigurd warned Svetlana about what would happen if she dared to eat Alexei’s heart.”
“Oh, God,” Sarakas said. “So someone wants wolves to feed a beast?”
“Seventy wolves?” Erik said. “How could anyone wrangle that many?”
“Because they start human,” I said. “A wolf with a super-rabid strain bites them and changes them all rapid-quick. Bam! New wolves, gifts for a visiting vampire lord.”
“Or a new army,” Marc said. “A rabid strain is hard to find. Took me four months to finally change.”
“I was a slow burn, too,” Peavey said. “Took three.”
“I haven’t shed yet,” Davey confessed. “I’m coming up on a year.”
“Jesus,” Peavey said, eyes full of sympathy. My boy shuffled his feet, embarrassed, somehow emasculated in a roomful of carnivorous alpha males.
“So how do we find a fast-burner?” I said, distracting them from Davey’s plight. “Who can contaminate people so quickly?”
“Sometimes you can smell it.”
“Well, I can’t. What else should I look for?”
They all shrugged.
“You need a wolf to smell the infection,” Erik said.
I huffed. “Too many things depend on unknown variables.”
“Svetlana needs support,” Erik said. “She'll kick the vampire's ass and continue business as normal. She's one of the few females I believe can handle herself, in skin or fur. She’ll kill the vamp and then it’s back to business.” The admiration in his eyes leaned toward sticky sweet.
“Are you going to make her your woman?” I said.
“A marriage of convenience?” He smirked. “At this point, why not? But I don't think it will come to that. If she wants war, an agreement with me won't stand in her way. Besides, she's got Russia to worry about, and I'm not leaving the States. It wouldn't be anything but ceremonial.”
“The vampires,” Davey said. “What are we going to do about them?”
“Hey,” Erik said. “Russian mutts aside, this is our mess, our city, our kennel. She was—is—a great example of what we can be. Now we have to prove it to ourselves. It's time to let people know that there's no shame in being what we are. We can be strong and civil, and we don't need Svetlana for that. Our people will remain united without her if we have to. Everyone else can roast in hell. This is my city, and I won’t give it up.”
Davey looked relieved.
“Kaid, walk me out,” Erik said. The wolves left, and he lagged behind.
“What?” I said, suspicious. “You’re going to try and kill Svetlana, aren’t you? You’ll wait to see who survives the vampire fight and then you’ll get rid of her.”
“I don't think I'll have to kill her. If she was going to be an evil tyrant, she would already be one. There's a reason she's playing nice, and I think that's largely because Peter got all queer on your kid.”
“Both insightful and ignorant.”
“Don’t rock too many boats at once, that’s what I mean.”
“Why am I always to blame for this? Vampires and wolves, I’m neither! Why can’t you guys deal with each other and leave me out of it?”
“Everything hinges on something,” he said, obscure. His glorious powdery skin was almost transparent, and his blood surged with power. I watched him, thinking about the wolf in his veins, wondering what he had up his sleeve. His arms, like a railroad, went forever. I wondered if he blushed in the heat of passion.
“What do you want from me?” I said.
“Nothing. Tell her I’m not her enemy yet.”
“Yet?” I snorted. “That’s half a threat. What if she doesn’t care?”
“Then I’ll destroy her,” he grinned. “With gusto.”
“Erik, about Hunter—”
“Do me a favor,” he said. “Don’t talk to me unless it’s business.”
That, I could do.
Chapter 23
Davey showered at three o’clock in the morning. I started some coffee and pulled out an urn of protein powder. Today, the post-workout supplement was breakfast. I was a horrible parent.
I hoped Clifford would help. I hoped Davey could tolerate Clifford and the physical, confrontational training. I chose loose fitting clothing and selected three Down-boys for the trank gun. On a good day, I wouldn't have to use a single one. In a worst-case scenario, I'd need all three and a few mags of silver.
I returned to the kitchen where Davey poked at the protein powder.
“I take it this is breakfast.” He scrunched his nose.
“At least it's chocolate.”
He crooked an eyebrow and scooped some powder into a glass of milk. He wore MMA shorts and a tank top, his hair was tied back into a perky, blunt ponytail at the back of his head.
“Desperate times,” he said.
“Exactly.” I tossed him an apple. “There. Part of a complete breakfast.”
“Maybe you should put me in charge of groceries.” It was a great idea.
He reached out and rubbed my arm above the elbow, sliding his hand on my skin for a moment. Then he patted me and wandered off, biting into the apple. I didn’t remember him ever touching me like that before. It rattled me, making me wonder if I was ready for all this. Not just the dojo, but the strain of protecting him from all the potentially lethal people I regularly pissed off. I should probably stock up on ammo.
“When can Peter spend the night again?” he said.
Now would be the appropriate time to conjure patience and understanding. Only I didn’t have the stamina for it.
I smiled (more like baring my teeth) and said, “Get in the truck.” Glaring and grumbling, he got in the vehicle. We pulled into the dojo's parking lot. Clifford's shades were drawn, but a haze of light slid under the door.
“What if I can't do this?” Davey said.
“You can.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I'm not, but I know you'll do your best. Mostly because there's a Down-boy with your name on it. Either you act all respectable and well-behaved or you'll spend a gruesome day suffering outrageous nausea.”
Davey shook his head and left the truck.
I knocked on the dojo door but didn't wait for an answer. The door was unlocked, and we invited ourselves in. Clifford sat ringside, eating oranges, looking slightly unrested. Orange peels curled around his toes, the scent of citrus sharpened the air. Hi
s eyes were tight and weak around the edges.
“Morning,” I said.
“Good morning. Want an orange?”
“Nope. Thanks though.”
“How are you doing, Davey?” Clifford eyed my boy, dissecting his lines and corners. He felt different: haggard. Maybe he had a negative reaction to the Xen?
“Are you okay, Clifford?”
“Sleep-deprived. Nothing to worry about.”
“We can come back later.”
“I'm fine.” He finished the fruit, licked his fingers, and stood. A big boy. Davey’s eyes widened as if he read a threat printed on Clifford's biceps.
Clifford tossed me a roll of athletic tape. “Get him ready. Gotta piss before we start.” He disappeared in the back of the dojo.
“Smells like jock straps in here,” Davey whispered.
“You’ll get used to it.”
I gestured for him to hold out his hands. I wrapped his wrists, taking the time to feel the temperature of his skin and rate his pulse. Stable. For now.
“Something is wrong with Clifford,” Davey whispered.
Crap, he noticed too? “Something bad?”
“Not really. Just different.”
“I'll keep an eye on it. Make a fist. Does it feel good and tight?”
“Yeah. Is he really going to hit me in the face? He’s three times my size.”
“Life doesn't pair fighters by weight class. Clifford will teach you, but he isn't going to damage you.” I hope.
“Ready or not, here I come.” Clifford carried focus mitts under his arm. I stepped back so I could keep both mutts in view. “Any formal training?”
“No.” Davey watched the focus mitts like he expected a massive beating.
Clifford raised his hands and crooked his fingers. Davey cautiously extended his wrapped mitts. Clifford checked the wraps and said, “Nervous?”
“Yes.”
“You'll get over it. Leftie or righty?”
“Left.”
“Okay. That's your power hand. You'll stand broad-based, right foot forward, weight evenly distributed. Keeps you faster on your toes. Remember, keep your chin down. Right now, you’re hanging it out there. Easy target with surprising fragility. Wave your chin and see how fast someone drops you. Universally, the temples, chin, and back of the skull are bad places to be hit. If you have to absorb a blow to the head, take it at your hairline. Your skull is thick there.”
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