CHAPTER 6
We arrived in the port of Gagra at dusk. First we saw the mountains, triangular low peaks sheathed in vibrant emerald green, as if blanketed with dense moss. The sunset behind us shifted to the right as the ship turned in to a sheltered harbor. The deep, almost purple waters of the Black Sea lightened to blue.
All twelve of us were there, on the deck. The shapeshifters looked uneasy. Even George, who usually met everything with a smile, seemed grim. She stood next to her father, hugging herself, as the wind stirred the dark spirals of her hair.
“Are you alright, cookie?” Mahon said.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” she murmured. “That’s all.”
“Shall I hoist the flag?” Saiman asked.
“Yes,” Curran said.
The gray-and-black striped flag of the Pack with a black lion paw on it rose up the mast.
The shore grew closer. The mountains wove in and out of the sea in gentle curves, soaking their roots in the water. The beach was a narrow strip of pebbled ground. Stone piers stretched into the waves, as if beckoning to us, and behind them, buildings of white stone sat perched on the side of the mountains, their colonnades facing the sea. They looked Greek to me, but most of what I knew about Greece came from books.
The water turned turquoise. The Rush slowed, then came to a stop.
“What are we waiting for?” I asked.
“A signal from the port,” Saiman said. “I would suggest you gather your belongings.”
We had already packed. Everything I intended to take with me was in a backpack, which Barabas promptly confiscated. Apparently as an alpha, I wasn’t permitted to carry my own luggage.
Twenty minutes later a blue flare shot from the pier.
“We’re clear to land,” Saiman said. “Once you disembark, I will depart. I have business in Tuapse, Odessa, and Istanbul. I’ll return within a week or so.”
That suited me just fine. Saiman loved to amuse himself, and we’d have our hands full without trying to contain him.
Fifteen minutes later the crew was tying the Rush to the pier. I stood on the crowded deck, Curran next to me. George’s anxiety infected me. I wanted off the ship. I wanted to see Desandra and get to work. Unfortunately if I started pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, I’d be immediately told by nine people that it wasn’t proper.
“A welcoming committee,” Raphael announced.
I turned. Fourteen people hurried toward us along the pier. Six pairs of men in dark coats, cinched at the waist. Most were dark-haired, tan, and lean. A few had short beards. Each carried a rifle over his shoulder and a dagger on his belt. They looked like a flock of dark ravens flying in two lines.
Two women walked in front of them. The first wore a dark blue blouse and jeans. She was about my age, dark-haired, her skin a light bronze, her hair put away into a braid. Her face was interesting, with large, bold features: big eyes, wide mouth, a sharply drawn nose. The girl next to her looked to be on the cusp of her twenties. Shorter, paler, with a slender waist, she wore a white dress. The wind tugged at the cascade of her chocolate-brown hair and her clothes, and the diaphanous fabric flared, making her appear ethereal and light. She all but floated above the rough concrete.
The girl waved. “Curran!”
She knew him.
Curran swore under his breath. “I’ll be damned. They dragged her into this.”
Apparently he knew her, too.
“Curran!” She waved again, standing on her toes, and hurried toward us.
“Lorelei?” Curran called out.
The girl smiled. Wow. The night just got a bit brighter.
The sailors lowered the gangplank and Curran started down the moment it clanged against the pier. Apparently he couldn’t wait to meet her.
“Who is Lorelei?” I asked quietly.
“Lorelei Wilson,” Mahon said. “Daughter of the Ice Fury’s alpha.”
Lorelei’s father led the Alaskan pack, the biggest shapeshifter group in the United States. The one who had left with her mother when Wilson and his European wife divorced. Well, wasn’t that just peachy.
“How do you tempt the Beast Lord?” Barabas murmured. “Simple. Offer him a shapeshifter princess.”
Aunt B reached over and gently popped him on the back of his head.
“I hate her already,” Andrea told me. “George hates her too, right, George?”
“I think she is adorable.” George volunteered next to me. “We should give her milk and cookies, and if she promises to be quiet, she can sit at the big people’s table.”
“Show some respect,” Mahon said. “She is the heir to Ice Fury.”
George arched her eyebrows at him. “Really, Dad?”
On the pier, Curran reached the procession. The woman in blue bowed. Lorelei stepped forward, her arms raised for a hug, then stopped abruptly, as if catching herself, and also bowed. Curran said something. She smiled again.
I touched Slayer’s hilt just to make sure it was there.
“Diplomatic, Kate,” Barabas suggested quietly. “Diplomatic.”
I leaned close to him. “Find out who invited her, what are her attachments, and if she has strings, who is pulling.”
He nodded.
I went down the gangplank. The rough concrete was dry under my feet. I managed a slow, deliberate march and the pier seemed to last forever. Did it need to be this long? Were they going to park a carrier here?
I finally got within hearing range.
“You grew up,” Curran was saying.
“It’s been ten years.” Lorelei’s voice had a light trace of an accent. Not quite French, not quite Italian. “I just turned twenty-one.”
I closed in on them. Lorelei had striking eyes, large and pale blue, framed in dense eyelashes. High cheekbones, softened by smooth skin and just a touch of roundness that came from being young; a narrow, petite nose, a full pink mouth. Her hair, a rich brown, fell down her shoulders in relaxed waves. She radiated youth, beauty, and health. She looked . . . fresh. I was only five years older than her, but standing next to her, I suddenly felt old.
Curran was looking at her. Not in the same way he looked at me, but he was looking. An odd feeling flared in me, hot and angry, prickling my throat from the inside with hot sharp needles, and I realized it was jealousy. I guess there was a first time for everything.
“Have you seen my father?” Lorelei asked. “How is he?”
“I saw him last year,” Curran said. “He’s the same as always: tough and ornery.”
I came to stand next to him.
Lorelei raised her eyebrows. Her eyes widened, and a sheen of pale green rolled over her irises. “You must be the human Consort.”
Yes, that’s me, the human invalid. “My name is Kate.”
“Kate,” she repeated, as if tasting the word. “It is an honor to meet you.”
Curran was smiling at her, that handsome hot smile that usually made my day better. Pushing Lorelei into the ocean wouldn’t be diplomatic, even if I really wanted to do it. “Likewise.”
“I’ve heard so much about you. But where are my manners? You must be hungry and tired.”
The woman in blue stepped forward, moving with a shapeshifter’s grace. Her eyes flashed green, catching the light from the ship. So these were the local werejackals Barabas had mentioned. Her eyes told me she’d been there and done that, and got a bloody T-shirt for her trouble.
The woman in blue bowed. “My name is Hibla. I’m here to be your guide.” She indicated the men next to her. “We are Djigits of Gagra.”
I had read up on Abkhazia. “Djigit” meant a skilled rider or a fierce warrior. The djigits looked back at me, the light of the evening sun catching their eyes. Yep, everyone was a shapeshifter except for me.
“We will escort you to your quarters when you are ready,” Hibla said.
Curran waved at the ship. Our small pack began its descent down to the pier. A few moments and they stood behind us.
Lorelei bowed to Mahon. “Greetings to the Kodiak of Atlanta.”
Mahon grinned into his beard. “What happened? Last time I saw you, you were this big.” He held out his arm at his waist level.
Lorelei smiled. “I wasn’t that short.”