IN THE THREE HOURS WE’D BEEN GONE, THE STEAK house had been transformed into the Pack’s field headquarters. Groups of shapeshifters patrolled the road and guarded the building. Knowing Jim, sentries lay in wait, hidden and watching for an enemy’s approach. People were crawling on the roof, installing a ballista and machine guns.
The parking lot lay empty, but the field behind the building was filled with cars spaced about ten feet apart. If the Keepers launched a rocket into our parking lot, not every vehicle would go up in flames. I hoped they tried something. My hands itched for my sword.
Curran parked in the front. Jackson, one of the guards, ran out and Curran tossed him the keys.
Jim met us at the door. Behind him Derek emerged. He looked like death: pale, his eyes bleak.
Shit.
I stopped. Curran’s hand brushed mine, and then he went off with Jim.
Derek came to a stop in front of me.
“Is she dead?” I asked.
“No. She’s sleeping.”
I exhaled. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“If I hadn’t—”
“Please, don’t flatter yourself. We both know the kid needed about five years of hard training before he could’ve taken her on. Your little beating made absolutely no difference.”
“She’s . . . there is no change.”
“That’s good news,” I told him. “Any change now will be for the worse. I need to have her stable, until I can get my ducks in a row.”
He glanced at me. “Kate, you can’t help her.”
“I can try. Are you going to help me or will you just stand there and mope?”
His head snapped up. Much better.
“Are the witches here?”
“Yes. The Russians are here too, and they’re pissed.”
Oh good. “Where are they?”
“In the back of the main room.”
“Find Barabas, tell him I need him to attend. And when Curran is done with Jim, tell him that I’m holding the meeting until he can join us.” I wouldn’t want His Arrogance to miss anything. “And fetch the staff, please.”
Derek took off. I strode inside the steak house.