16
“Time to go.” I said, leaping to my feet and running through the house.
Milly trotted after us. “What’s happening?”
“Pack, come. Kill,” Alex said.
No more questions, we piled into the Jeep and spun out as the first of the pack hit the edge of the lawn. Snarling and howling, I knew they could scent not only Alex, but the blood from my stitches too. Not to mention the pool of blood from Martins’ death.
Alex lay in the back of the Jeep, panting with fear. Milly stared out the window as the front runner hit the side of the vehicle, almost tipping us over.
“Milly! Do something!” I yelled, battling with the steering wheel to keep up from going over. That would be bad on so many levels I didn’t even want to consider.
“I can’t. The pack has nothing to do with this case,” she whispered, staring straight out front.
“And if they attack you?” I snapped, finally gaining some distance from the pack as we sped down the road, the tires squealing as they went from dirt to the tarmac of the paved road leading into town.
Milly started to cry. “I can’t defend myself unless it’s directly linked to the case or I’ll be removed from the Coven and will be considered a rogue worthy of decapitation.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “That’s just freaking fantastic. So you mean you’re basically just a throwaway?”
She stiffened in her seat. “What did you call me?” We both knew she’d heard me; we’d been friends too long not to know exactly what was going down.
I took a left and headed toward Bismark. We needed more than just a motel to keep the pack off our scent, and I needed a place I could get some info. I didn’t have time to pamper Milly, much as she was my friend.
“You damn well know what a throwaway is. You’re just going to get in the way, and cause more harm than good unless I’m using you for a shield. For them to put that restriction on you WAS a death sentence and you know it. Those bastards don’t care about you, Milly!” I was shouting by the time I finished.
Alex was whispering in the back seat. “No fighting, no fighting.”
“Stop this car right now. I am not a throw away,” Milly said, her voice as cold as a chunk of ice pressed against my skin.
“It’s not a car, it’s a Jeep.” I glanced in the rear-view mirror. No werewolves galloping behind us. That was a plus.
“PULL THE F*ckING JEEP OVER!”
Well, that was a first. Both for the “F” bomb, and the screaming. I didn’t pull the Jeep over. “Milly, I don’t think you’re a throwaway, but that’s how they’re treating you.”
I drove for another fifteen minutes on the main highway doing well over 60mph, checking the mirror for a pack of werewolves galloping behind us before I pulled over, though it was still reluctantly. “If you still want to go, then go. You aren’t a throwaway.”
She got out, her hands shaking as she held the door open with both hands, almost as if she were holding herself up. “I know that. But they’re everything I’ve fought so hard to have. And I need them. They have training techniques I can’t learn anywhere else. I need to be a part of the Coven. They need to be my family now.”
“And if they end up killing you? What then?”
“They won’t let me die,” she said, though her voice wavered. “Goodbye, Rylee.”
She shut the door and started to walk down the shoulder, her thumb out. I waited until the first farm truck rumbled into view and she hopped in.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Milly.” I couldn’t deal with that loss right now. At the very least, she’d helped me to pinpoint the “who” behind India’s disappearance. A rogue Coven. That only made me feel slightly better about the case. It wasn’t identical to Berget’s, but still . . . .
Checking my mirrors for cars and rampant werewolves, I pulled back onto the road when all was clear. As I drove, I wracked my brain for everything I knew about the Coven, or Covens in general.
“Okay, Alex. What do we know about witches?”
He grunted and slithered up to the front seat. “Milly.”
“Yes, Milly is a witch.” My heart ached more than a little. “Coven’s have any number of people, but the core of them is always thirteen. Which means we’re dealing with at least thirteen rogue witches. Yay.”
Alex lifted his head and laughed. “Yay!” My sarcasm was lost on him completely.
On the open road, fields spilling out around us, I concentrated on what I had. I needed to find a deep mineshaft, needed to be prepared to face down the rogue Coven and, on top of that, avoid the pack that was probably setting up camp at my house, waiting for us to get back. And that’s where all my gear was.
I stopped at the first hotel we came to, one I’d used a few times in the past. Running in, I booked a room in under three minutes. The fear that the pack would be on us if I left Alex by himself was strong, even though they didn’t appear to be following us anymore, I wasn’t taking any chances. Losing one friend in any given day was enough for me, particularly considering how few I had. Room key card in hand, I drove the Jeep into the underground parking, a large sheeted metal door closing behind us. Now the trick was going to be getting Alex into the room without being seen.
“Come on, we’ve got some flights to run up.”
Alex gave a soft woof, his tail wagging as the flight from his rampaging pack mates was already forgotten.
Using the stairwell, keeping a hand on Alex’s collar, we sprinted up the three flights with no problem. Peeking into the carpeted hotel hallway from the stairwell, I could see our room was at the far end. “Ready?”
He bobbed his head. “Yup.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and for that alone, he was worth the pain in my ass he caused with all his pack issues. Sprinting again, we ran to our room, the key card in my hand and sliding through the lock before I’d come to a full stop, which meant we slammed through the door in a heap. Alex laughed and tried to start a wrestling match with me.
“Nope, not right now,” I said, pushing him off me, the scratches on my arms a reminder of how lucky I was to be immune.
Flicking on the TV, I said, “You stay here, be quiet. I’ll be right back.” Alex ignored me as he leapt onto the king-sized bed and flopped down facing the TV.
Two trips later, I had brought up my overnight bag as well as a range of weapons from my Jeep. No way was I going anywhere else without them. For that matter, I was going to sleep in my flak jacket.
Next on the list was finding that mineshaft.
I dialed in Kyle’s number from memory, hoping my little hacker was still up. A groggy hello answered the phone.
“Kyle, can you look up mineshafts for me around here?”
“Hello to you too, Rylee,” he grumbled. A shuffling of papers and then I could hear him typing on the keyboard. “Lots of mineshafts, anything in particular?”
“Deep ones, two hundred feet or better,” I said, switching the channels to a local news station.
“Only four that deep that I can find. Mines are deeper, but you just want the shaft?” His voice became clearer the longer we spoke.
“Yes. Send it here. I gotta go.”
I gave him the hotel’s fax number and hung up, not wanting to stay on longer than we had to and chance either a tap or a power failure due to my proximity. Plopping the phone back into its cradle, I stared at the TV. It was the main story that caught my eyes.
“FBI AGENT KILLS PARTNER IN COLD-BLOODED MURDER, THEN ESCAPES.”
“You’re in deep shit now, O’Shea,” I said.
“Gun man in trouble?” Alex’s voice picked up in intensity.
I stroked his head, soothing him. “Maybe.”
The news reporter came on, her voice pitched all wrong for TV. The gist of it was that on transport, O’Shea (though they didn’t name him) overpowered his guards and stole the unmarked car following the police cruiser he was in. The pictures looked like a bomb had gone off, like some high-end movie production chase scene had gone horribly wrong. Cars flipped over, debris everywhere, not to mention the people gawking at the edges of the scene as the helicopter flew overhead.
“Who do you think you are, O’Shea? Schwarzenegger?”
I turned the TV off. He was on his own now; I’d offered him help and he’d turned it down, stupid man.
Leaving Alex in the room, I took the elevator down to the lobby to see if Kyle had faxed me the info yet. The clerk, the same flustered young woman who’d booked me in, went all wide-eyed when I said I had a fax coming in.
“Oh, I’m sorry, we can’t do that.”
“Too late, I’ve already given him the number and if you didn’t want people sending in faxes it shouldn’t be on the welcome card.” I flopped down said welcome pamphlet on the high counter that made me feel like a little kid even in heeled boots.
Tight blond curls bounced as she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, we can’t . . .” a beeping noise interrupted her. Bless Kyle and his timing. My body ached, my arm hurt, and all I wanted was to soak in a tub and sleep for a few hours before seeking out the mineshaft. Sleeping against my bedroom wall hadn’t been the best of ideas. Damn, I needed Milly to keep me on track.
The doors behind us slid open and a moment later, a large hand pressed into the small of my back. “Did you get us the room . . .honey?”
My eyes bugged out when I turned to stare at a more than rumpled O’Shea standing at my side. “How did you—”
“Oh, you know me, I can find you anywhere. Sweetheart.” His voice was all smooth and silky, but his eyes were wild. Not a good combo.
“Yes, and this lady here was just getting me my paperwork.” No need to make a scene in front of the hotel staff.
O’Shea buried his face into my hair as the woman lifted her eyes. “She can’t see my face,” he whispered into my ear.
“Oh, I understand that . . . Poopsey.”
He grunted as if I’d hit him. I snatched the papers out of her hand and threw a rumpled twenty over the desk. “That should cover any paper costs,” I said over my shoulder. “Poopsey” snuggled into my hair as if we were long lost lovers.
The elevator slid open and we hustled inside. What I didn’t expect was O’Shea almost pinning me up against the far wall, his face now against my neck.
“Cameras,” he said, his lips tickling against my collarbone.
“You beyond owe me,” I said. “I am going to own you after this.” I was trying not to feel the hardness of his body against my own. I knew how the man worked out; like it was his religion. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to tail a person. I placed my hands on his shoulders and tried very, very hard not to think about how this looked. When the door binged, O’Shea grabbed me around the waist and slung me over his shoulder.
Slapping me on the ass, he said, “If you’re going to own me, I might as well make this worth it.”
I squawked, but didn’t protest overly much. His words were playful, but I could feel the strain in them, the tremor in his hands against me.
We got to the room and he slipped me off his shoulder, pressing himself against my back.
“Hey,” I said, fumbling for the key card. “You might like all this touchy feely, ram-Rylee-against-the-wood-paneling business, but I can’t get the damn door open if you don’t give me some room.”
O’Shea eased off me, just enough that I could take a deep breath and slide the key card through the reader.
With the click of the door, the air whooshed around us, a distinct scent of wet dog swirling towards us. Crap, this might be a problem.
“Ryleeeeee!” Alex howled out, his black fur soaking wet, the sound of the shower still running. Bugger, I hadn’t thought to tell him to stay out of the water.
The door slammed and I spun, pinning O’Shea against it, tipping a short sword up into his groin. “Don’t pull your gun, big man.”
He stared over my shoulder, his eyes wide. “What the hell is that?”
“Did you hear me?” I didn’t ease up on the blade.
“Adamson.” Mild tremors went through him. Moving slowly, he lifted his hands up over his head. “Now, what the hell is that? It can talk?”
I stepped back, bumping into Alex who peered around my legs. “This is Alex. He’s a werewolf.”
Alex, being who he was, lifted one giant paw and flopped it at O’Shea in a loose wave.
“A werewolf?” He started to lower his hands and I poked him with my knife.
“No guns.”
“Does he bite?”
Alex shook his head. “No bites.”
O’Shea pushed himself back against the door, his eyes wide and so dilated I would have thought he was high if I didn’t know better. “A talking werewolf. . . before, I thought maybe I had been hearing things.” His voice was soft and his eyes lifted to mine. I’d only ever seen his nearly-black eyes angry, not this shell-shocked confusion. It actually made me feel bad for him.
I lowered the sword, propping it against the wall next to the bathroom. Just in case. “Alex is not like most werewolves. He’s submissive, and for all intents and purposes, I’m the boss. Right?” I dropped a hand on Alex’s damp head. He pushed into my fingers, forcing me to scratch behind his ears.
“Go dry off, Alex.” I pointed to the bathroom. With a grunt and a wag of his tail, he did as I said, leaving O’Shea and me alone.
“First of all, how did you find me?” I slipped out of my jacket.
O’Shea’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you didn’t carry guns.”
I fingered the shoulder holster I wore, then turned so he could see the back, how it criss-crossed and held the sheaths for my blades. “Swords, not guns.”
“Why?”
Big breath in. Realize he has no idea about your world. “As you may have noticed, guns and bullets do weird things when placed up against the supernatural. Like take corners and kill people they shouldn’t. Swords don’t. And if they are edged and spelled right . . .” His eyes continued to widen and I thought about what I’d said, and how he’d not answered my first question.
“I’ll explain everything, if you tell me how you found me. Otherwise, I’ll pick up that phone over there and dial 9-1-1,” I said, doing my best not to be too bitchy.
“I’ve been profiling you for years. You have a pattern. Every fourth time you need a room, it’s either this hotel or the one across the street when you are on a . . . case.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.
Hmm. That was interesting and not in a good way. If he could find me that easy, we were going to have to move, sooner rather than later.
Hands clenched into his dark slacks. “This can’t be happening.”
I barked out a laugh and kicked off my boots. “Really? This is my life, man. And it looks like you’re about to get a serious dose of the true reality of this world. Want to tell me what really happened when I was locked up in the cellar with the ones who you were shooting at?” I was betting there was more to the story than he’d told me already.
“Besides my partner being shot with my gun even though I wasn’t pointing it at him?” His dry tone told me he was coming out of the funk.
“Yes.” Best to keep things short and sweet at this point.
“They hit me with—” O’Shea flipped his hands in the air and then jumped as the blow dryer came on in the bathroom. “How can he manage that with those claws?”
“It’s one of the things that takes him a while, but he can manage,” I said, going right back to my original question. “What did they nail you with?”
Pushing off the door, he started to pace the small space between the far window and the door. “It was, I don’t know, a spell?” He lifted his eyes to mine for confirmation, and it hit me how fast our relationship had changed. All of a sudden he was looking to me for help.
“Most likely. Can you tell me what it looked like? Colours, density, sound?” I leaned back on the bed, letting out a sigh. This hotel had good mattresses. I flipped an arm over my eyes. “All those things can help me figure out what they might have spelled you with.”
The bed squeaked and I looked out from under my arm to see O’Shea crawling toward me, his eyes dilated, a smile on the edge of his mouth as he took in a deep breath. Oh crap. “Never mind,” I said, rolling away from him. “I know what they hit you with.”
“You do? How?” Those dark eyes roved my body as if I were naked. Yup, though that was not the worst spell he could have been hit with, and at least I knew how to counter it.
I was already slipping on my jacket. “I’m going to go and get something to break it. You stay here.” Already my boots were back on.
O’Shea stood and his eyes clouded over. “You aren’t going to tell me what it is?” Now that was a defiant thread of anger I heard.
“It’ll only freak you out.” I took a breath. “Alex, stay in the bathroom until I get back.”
He barked out. “Yuppy doody.”
A dark eyebrow lifted in my direction. I shrugged. “He’s got a weird lingo. You’ll get used to it.”
The former FBI agent snorted. “This is not a permanent arrangement.”
It was my turn to snort. “Really? And who else is going to believe that your bullet went f*cking about on its own trajectory to kill your partner? Who else is going to believe that you have a spell on you that has messed with your emotions, ability to think clearly, not to mention your ability to control yourself?”
He blanched and sat down on the edge of his bed.
I shook my head. “I won’t be long. Don’t move and don’t kill Alex, because that would seriously piss me off, and right now I am your only friend in this whole messed up world.”
Slamming the door behind me, I trotted to the stairs. Damn, this was getting complicated.