“At least pretend not to have superhuman strength. My other neighbor is a lawyer who found God and occasionally sets burning crosses in my yard.”
“Where to, lady?” Peavey said.
“You can put the freezer in the garage.”
Marc took one end of the freezer and helped Peavey carry it inside. He stared at me and I recognized his we-gotta-talk face.
“Want some coffee?” I said. As if on cue, Davey came out with three mugs, reminding me the walls were thin and mutts had great hearing. Marc accepted the coffee, sniffed it, and ventured a sip. Stalling. “What?”
“Erik and Svetlana nearly came to a diplomatic arrangement, and suddenly she's dragging her feet. She’s taking her time, which is totally suspicious considering her pushy entrance. Now that everything is going smoothly, it’s like she doesn't care. According to Rainer, Svetlana was set to leave the country last month, but she canceled her flights.”
“Okay. And?”
“If there's anything you can do, you know. I want you to keep her here.”
“How am I supposed to manage that? Her boy, Alden, can out-maneuver any tech we'd try to block them with, and the FBHS shouldn't know she exists. If I wanted to arrest her for something, I wouldn't have to look too hard, but I'd rather not sic the bureau on her.”
With the aftermath of FBHS raids fresh in my head, my imagination had no trouble providing pictures of dead children. The idea made the coffee go sour in my troubled stomach.
“I wasn't referring to your connection with the bureau. Svetlana is way out of their league. I meant personally. If there was anything you could do...personally.”
“Marc, I haven't a clue what you're talking about. Here's a novel idea: talk to her yourself.”
“Yeah,” he said in a thanks-for-nothing tone. He set the coffee cup on the rail. He met my eyes, and his gaze held a storm of accusation and disappointment.
“What do you expect from me?” I snapped. “What's this about, Marc?”
He pushed his hands deep into his pockets. He was gorgeous, a height and grace that mingled perfectly with the strength of his structure, the roundness of his shoulders and skull. Sometimes he looked at me as if I was the biggest problem in his life.
“We have the potential to change the world, Kaid. I hope you realize that.”
He walked away, leaving me to think about possible revolution.
Before they loaded into the truck and pulled out of the yard, Zelda's door opened. She made her way across the yard with a pan in her hands, hoping to meet the guys, but they escaped with a simple wave and drove down the street. Zelda recovered and walked over to me, the long linen on her floral dress gliding over the gravel in my yard.
“Lots of activity around here. Now, take these cookies. I figure Nancy and I will head into the city and do some shopping.”
“Okay. Be careful. She doesn’t seem like she’ll appreciate crowds.”
“I hear you, dear. Is everyone okay?”
“There have been a few hiccups in that department.”
“Thought so. Oh, and I have something for you. Beside cookies, I also whipped up some Kyoto powder. Now, it's a little off my beaten path. See, it comes from a hoodoo recipe but proves to be as effective as many healing powders I've tried.”
“A hoodoo remedy called Kyoto powder? A name like that, I'd have expected it to be Japanese. What's in it?”
“Clove buds, vanilla beans, blossoms, a few miscellaneous things, and a dash of myrrh because I like to put that in all my healing remedies. Brush it on the forehead of whoever is hurt, pack it in the wounds, and sprinkle it around the bed.” She dropped a leather satchel into my hand and kissed my cheek.
I felt overwhelmed. With mutts bringing meat and Zelda offering potions, I an astonishing sense of community smacked me in the face. For the first time, the idea of a kennel didn’t terrify me. Davey came out onto the porch, freshly showered.
“What's going on?”
“Marc asked me to investigate what’s going on at the Russian house, and why peace talks have died out.”
Davey spun on his heel. “I have to change my clothes.” My eye started twitching. I snatched him before he could get away. He pulled against my hand, but not hard enough for me to let him go.
“What do you know,” I said.
“Svetlana is pissed at Peter. She threatened to throw him out of the house, but she changed her mind. Which is rare, I guess, for her not to follow through on a threat. Everyone thinks she’s taking too long to recover from the wounds, but if you ask me, she’s fine. She’s…moping, or something. Like, the other day, someone boxed in the car she wanted to drive, and so she moved the other vehicle. With her bare hands. Flipped it over and dragged it out of the way. So I’d say she’s fine, physically. She’s simply perturbed and easily provoked.”
“Perturbed,” I repeated. When a wolf as violent and tyrannical as Svetlana felt irritated, she left bodies in her wake. “What did Peter do?”
Davey blushed all the way to the roots of his hair, a giant flag of guilt.
“Did they hurt you? Davey! You need to make this situation clear before I decide to do something rash.”
“God, Kaidlyn,” he whined.
“Pardon me while I grab more silver rounds.”
“Christ. Wait. I don’t know when it happened, but Peter abdicated his throne. He gave up his rights to Germany without so much as a fight or a resignation letter. Told Svetlana he quit so he could focus on issues at the house.”
“Issues at the house? You mean, he quit so he could be with you.”
“He passed up a throne for me. How am I supposed to respond to that? I didn’t ask for it, that’s for sure. Hell, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with myself, and he’s making monumental sacrifices—these huge decisions—without talking to me first.”
I pulled on his arm. “Sit down.” He did, and I folded my hands in my lap. “Peter is a big boy. He can make his own decisions. And Svetlana loves you both, so it will be okay.”
“Yeah, she loves him. Doesn’t mean she won’t kill him if he pisses her off.”
I knew that to be the truth. “Even if Peter makes those choices, it doesn’t mean you owe him anything. Nothing you don’t want to give, anyway.”
“It may be possible that Peter loves me. Like, really truly.” Wham, right to the heart of it. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I guess you do what feels right.”
“Okay, yes, but there’s Svetlana and Erik and Iago and all these absurd politics. Life was complicated before, but now…”
“Complicated things can work.”
I didn’t know anyone less unqualified to give love advice, and Davey happened to fall in love at an inopportune time with an inconvenient person. Peter was a strong mutt with a mountain of global responsibilities. Not to mention, the church persecuted homosexuality as much as witchcraft and people occasionally died over the issue. The romance was a bomb waiting to detonate. Frustrated, I promised myself I wouldn't scream.
“How does Peter make you feel?” I said.
“Well, he makes me feel strong. Which is weird, because he is way stronger than me. When people find out about my violent history, they either feel pity, like oh, poor baby, or they act like I'm unclean. Peter says, okay, want something to eat? He accepts me. I feel like I can identify with someone on a level that’s been previous unattainable. And it isn't because we both have such shitty past; it's the way he is.”
He loved Peter with his whole beautiful, selfless, innocent heart.
“And yet?”
“What if I’m reading too much into it? I mean, it’s not like I’m an expert. I don't know what he wants from me, or if he truly wants me at all. What if he’s a really good actor? Do you think Svetlana ever encouraged him to be friendly?”
“I don't see Peter as the type to fake affection. Even if Svetlana asked him to have, y’know, whatever with you, he wouldn't enjoy your presence so much. I’ve seen how P
eter looks at you. He flat out loves you, dude.”
A blush crept into Davey’s cheeks, but he didn’t look pleased for long. We had the same fear. What would Svetlana do about all this? Peter was her right-hand mutt, and he planned to abandon her carefully orchestrated revolution.
The breakup could turn bloody.
I patted Davey’s hand and smiled like everything would be okay, hoping he wouldn't realize how full of shit I was. “Be careful, yet follow your heart. And if he does anything, anything, to endanger your well-being, you'll never see him again.”
Because I'll kill him.
Davey went to dress. Before my head stopped spinning, a van pulled up with a big, dark, handsome man behind the wheel. Speak of the devil. I stared at him. Glared, more accurately, but I couldn't help it. My pulse raced. My heart goose-stepped around in my chest. All I saw was a strange mutt slapping a great big target on Davey's heart. Peter may have sensed my animosity because he didn't get out of the vehicle. Instead, he waited for me to come to him. I had a lot of crap to say, but I decided not to say any of it.
Mostly because I was the biggest hypocrite, wondering if Svetlana had come with him. Was she here? Would I get to see her caramel eyes and smell her skin? I opened my mouth with a dozen questions and no logic—
Tatka popped out of the van. Her blond hair bobbed in a ponytail and her sweatpants were stained with grease. Her tank top bore signs of rust, or blood, and grass stains. She carried a tool chest and approached the house like she was invited.
I stood in her way. “What are you doing?”
“Want him fixed or not?” Her Russian accent proved hard, heavy, and mean. My gaze dropped to the tool box.
“What exactly are planning?”
She rolled her eyes and went around me.
Davey came out of the house, dressed in a clean pair of black jeans and a matching black shirt. A smile took Peter’s eyes hostage. I gave up, took the hoodoo powder and the cookies, and went inside.
Tatka walked around the red mutt on the tile. Her bare feet added dirt to the dried blood. She poked him with her toe, but he didn’t move. Ah, crap. Had he died while I wasn’t looking? Worry knifed my stomach.
Clifford lifted his wolf head and stared at me. His eyes blinked, presumably working, and he directed his glare at Tatka. I sighed a big breath of relief and said, “Hey, buddy,” all warm and welcome, before I paused to consider how hungry he might be and that he might want to eat me. The duct tape holding him together was matted and repulsive, and the wounds were puckered and inflamed. Was he taking too long to heal? How much time did he need? Why was everything so subjective and mystical?
The kitchen door crept open as Davey came in. “Peter brought a big freezer chest, which we’re setting up in the garage next to the one Rainer sent and adding a few racks of meat for Clifford.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, I guess chunks of raw meat fixes everything.”
“Meat helps.” Tatka had yet to touch the wolf who needed doctoring.
“Are you going to get on with it?”
“Getting to know each other takes time.” The brat sniffed and huffed. Clifford’s nostrils fluttered and his breathing hitched. Paws twitched like a dog chasing an animal in its dream. He wanted to get up but couldn’t. She crouched alongside, not staring him directly in the eyes, setting her toolbox on the ground and making preparations. His snout sauntered closer, huffing as he sought to smell her bare, dirty feet. Weird introduction, but then, at least he wasn’t trying to sniff her backside.
Tatka’s toolbox held a medieval torture arsenal with wrenches to boot.
“Uh, no—” I began. She shushed me with Russian noises.
“Fluid in his lungs,” she said. “No good.”
Faster than a blink, she produced a long metal tube and rammed it, without ceremony, through Clifford’s torso.
“Holy popsicle sticks!” I shrieked. Impaled, Clifford found the energy to thrash. Fluid oozed through the tube, looking red and yellow, infectious and bloody. The stench was foul, turning my stomach. “I don’t know how much of this I can take.”
“It is not for you to take,” Tatka said, pulling out a power drill.
“Oh, hell no.”
Vadik came in, wearing a serious look on his face. He pushed up his sleeves, winked at me, and went to hold Clifford down. I escaped into the garage. Peter and Davey loaded chunks of wrapped meat into a newly-established freezer. The sparkle in Davey’s eyes made me sick to my already nauseated stomach.
I interrupted their sweet nothings. “Does Tatka know what she’s doing?”
“More than most,” Peter said. His long black hair sat in a ponytail at the back of his neck, and the shadow on his jaw was as dark and sexy as the rest of him.
“Svetlana probably knows more,” I argued. Why couldn’t she be here? Was she avoiding me? “Why didn’t she come?”
“This is not her wolf,” he said. “She pledged neutrality throughout all local skirmishes. We’re already toeing the line.”
“I hate politics.”
He smiled. Whirring commenced from inside the house and I shuddered. Peter wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving pink streaks of animal fluid, then he reached past Davey and retrieved a bottle of amazingly good scotch from a grocery bag. He twisted the cap and offered me the first swig. I was tempted to drain the entire bottle.
“Thanks, but no,” I said, battling an urge too strong for my own good. I shouldn’t indulge in anything hard enough to make me sloppy or relaxed. Especially with a house full of infectious monsters operating on a contagious, doomed victim whose heart had nearly been removed by a pack of feral, rival mutts. Ah, hell. I took the bottle before he bothered to give me a second chance. Scotch hit my tongue. It burned so good.
“Would it be rude to ask how she was dealing with everything?” I said.
“Yes.” He shrugged. “She is the strongest wolf I know.”
“I’d like to talk to her.”
“Have you tried calling her on the phone?”
Guilty. I hadn’t reached out until Clifford was dying on my doorstep. The woman scared me, and not only because she was a fearsome, fearless monster. My trepidation had more to do with her pure voice, her sure grip, and the molten caramel gaze. I had told Davey to go with what feels right. What a class A hypocrite I was! I sipped the scotch.
“We almost had Iago,” Peter said. “Then we lost him.”
“Lost? Aren’t you like bloodhounds or something?”
“He tucked in somewhere. We’re trying to flush him out inconspicuously.”
“Hell, do it conspicuously. I don’t care! How is this guy evading two kennels of the most intimidating, powerful wolves in Phoenix? Yet no one wants me to help kill him, when clearly I’m better suited for the job. What the heck?”
“Kaid—”
“One of his lackeys attacked us outside of our friend’s dojo. Twice now, Davey could have become Iago’s collateral damage. Why the hell aren’t you doing something?”
“Kaidlyn,” Davey said.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m ranting. Someone needs to end that homicidal lunatic, and no one will help me. This big shiny knight here isn’t getting it done. Peter, you might invest a teensy bit more energy in protecting your lover.”
Davey paled, Peter reddened, and I expected to start shooting. The sound of a power drill whirring in my kitchen didn’t help. Peter’s lips twisted like he wanted to talk, but his rage and teeth had grown too big.
“Peter, you should totally be on my side. This has gone on too long. Iago needs to die. Now. How are we going to fix this?”
He cleared his throat. “We don’t know where he is, Kaid. We’ll kill him when we do.” He looped his arm around Davey, kissed his temple, and said, “Maybe Davey should stay at the house until this is over.”
“Ah, hell no. There’s no evidence you can keep him safer than I can. How many wolves do you have over there? Huh? And yet they can’t track down one mutt in this godforsaken
city? No. Handle it, Peter, and I’ll feel better about letting Davey staying over. Until then, I’m not letting him out of my sight.”
“Remember I’m eighteen and can think for myself,” Davey said.
“Think about how you’re going to encourage Peter’s kennel to handle their business before I have to do something drastic.” I pointed at the kitchen. “Do you know what they did to him?”
“I can smell the damage.” Peter’s face sported three shades of red: rage, frustration, and shame.
“That could have been Davey. How does that make you feel?”
“Woman, you’re testing my—”
“I don’t give a crap, Peter. Man up, as they say. You’re the bloody king of Germany, and you’re letting a thug terrorize your lover’s home. Think on that. I remember everyone telling me to stay out of it, that you’d handle it. Doesn’t look handled to me.”
“It’s not your business, Kaidlyn.”
My head roared with white noise.
Peter stood six inches taller than my six feet, and I wanted to punch him. Mostly because he had inside info and was holding out. Also, because he saw her every day. He had so much love from and for others. Me, I was still scraping an inch of self-loathing off my heart to see if anything underneath survived.
Oh, the drama. Being a bitch wasn’t getting me anywhere.
I handed him the scotch, and he swigged it.
“That’s my friend, Clifford, being operated on by a teenage carpenter. He helped Davey and I, even gave me an alibi when law enforcement questioned him. He also disposed of a body, the assailant who tried to kill me and steal Davey for Iago’s gang. You owe that man, Peter. Owe him more than a chunk of meat, that’s for sure.”
“You’ve made your point,” Peter said. “Now it’s time for you to back off.”
Probably.
Tatka and Vadik left the house. Vadik tossed an air kiss in my direction, and they loaded into the van.
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