CHAPTER TWELVE
The last Shifter leader meeting Graham had attended had been in Dallas, and he’d had to fly. Graham hated flying. An airplane was a machine, and machines could break. Vehicles on the ground were dangerous enough, but what if one broke twenty-thousand feet in the air? Humans were crazy.
This time, Graham wouldn’t have to fly, to his relief. The meeting was in Laughlin.
Good choice, Graham thought as he headed out of town with Eric—on Dougal’s Harley because his own still needed repairs.
A lot of bikers went to Laughlin, a town about an hour or so south of Vegas on the Nevada-Arizona border, the motorcycle riders mixing in with retirees who came for cheap food, cheap rooms, and cheap slots. A score of Shifters could blend in with the human bikers easily, and the human government never had to know Shifters had gathered there. Shifters weren’t allowed to cross state lines without special permission, so the fewer humans who knew Shifters were traveling today, the better.
Only Shifter leaders and a backup were allowed to attend the meetings. No others. Backup tended to be trackers—those who ran errands for or guarded the leader. Graham wanted to argue that both he and Eric could bring one backup, because they were joint leaders, but no. Eric was considered the official Shiftertown leader, with Graham as his muscle. Stupid idea, because if Graham decided to, he could take out Eric quietly on this road trip and then make a play to rule Shiftertown himself.
Except, Graham wasn’t sure how much he wanted to rule it anymore. Cassidy and Jace—Eric’s second and third in command—would argue, probably with violence. Cassidy was a sweet-looking woman but one hell of a fighter. Jace had a mate of his own now, and neither were slouches in the fighting area.
The rest of Eric’s Shifters would also instantly rebel against being led by Graham if he tried to take over. And Graham had Dougal and two little cubs to worry about. If he got himself killed trying to take over Shiftertown those three would suffer, and so would any other Lupines who’d backed him.
Responsibility. Graham was plagued with it.
The fact that Eric rode confidently along, letting Graham stick close to his back, was meant to show how much Eric had grown to trust Graham in the last year. Eric wasn’t an idiot—he knew he was safe with Graham now, and he was right.
The town of Laughlin hugged the Colorado River, the bridge across it about fifteen feet above the water, in contrast to the giant bridge that crossed many miles north at Hoover Dam, where the river flowed through a huge gorge. Large hotels lined Laughlin’s mini Strip, with buses disgorging tourists up and down the street. Men on Harleys shot around the buses with a roar of engines.
Shifters drifted into the bar at the far end of the main drag gradually, the agreement being that all of them didn’t descend on a place at once. The bar’s owner was known to Eric, and had agreed to let them meet there, the deal sweetened with a little cash. Graham had to concede that Eric had better connections on this end of the state than Graham could ever cultivate. Eric was a slick talker. Graham just commanded.
By four that afternoon, the room had filled with Shifters; or at least, with as many as could get here on short notice. That was still a lot—Shifters even from the other side of the country could move fast if they needed to, including Bowman O’Donnell, a Lupine from North Carolina; Aaron Mitchell, bear Shifter from the Canadian Rockies; and Eoin Lyall, a Feline from western Montana.
Most came from Shiftertowns located outside cities—as Graham’s Elko Shiftertown had been—easier for them to disappear for a time without humans noticing. The city Shifters had a harder task moving around undetected. Of course, the smug Irishman, Liam Morrissey, and his terrifying tracker, Tiger, had managed to get here from Austin.
The meeting started by Eric standing up and saying, “Graham has something to tell you.”
All eyes moved to Graham, and most of the stares weren’t friendly. A lot of these Shifters were barely on this side of feral, in spite of the Collars, in spite of the rigid hierarchy of Shifters. Eoin Lyall, Graham knew, hadn’t agreed to take the Collar until his entire clan had been threatened with execution. Twenty years later, he was still pissed off about it.
Graham told his story. He left out the part about drinking Fae water and being under the spell, but he saw the Shifters fill in those blanks on their own. They weren’t fools. They might not guess exactly how Graham had come under a Fae’s thrall, but they knew the Fae wouldn’t have been able to make Graham dream about him otherwise.
Bowman said, “I agree. We find the Fae-get who makes the Collars and ask him a few questions.”
“That supposes we know where he is,” Eric said.
Liam Morrissey cast his blue gaze over Graham and rested it on Eric. “We know.”
“Do you?” Aaron asked in his bear rumble. “And how do you?”
Liam shrugged. “I’ve made it my business to keep tabs on him all these years. I’ll send someone to round him up.”
The other Shifters muttered or growled. Only Eoin didn’t look surprised. “You shouldn’t keep information like that to yourself, lad,” Eoin said in his Scottish accent. “But no matter—we’ll not have to waste time on a search. The question is, where are we going to keep him for interrogation once we extract him from wherever the humans have stashed him?”
Graham liked how Eoin thought. “The Vegas Shiftertown, of course,” Graham said. “I’m the one who wants the answers.”
Bowman spoke up. “And have the humans find him? They keep a close eye on city Shiftertowns. And your Shifters aren’t exactly tame, McNeil. They might rip him apart if they know he’s there.”
“Aw, wouldn’t that be sad?” Graham shook his head in mock sorrow. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure we get some answers first.”
“No ripping,” Eric said. “Morrissey, you bring him, we’ll question, and then we’ll return him.”
“And keep him from running back to the humans and telling them all he knows, how?” Eoin asked.
Liam gave everyone his self-assured, shithead grin. “You let me worry about that.”
“Have the Tiger talk to him,” Graham said. “If the Collar maker is sane enough to remember his own name after that, he’ll be braver than I thought.”
Tiger hadn’t said a word—backup wasn’t supposed to talk unless asked a direct question. Graham always ignored that rule himself, but Tiger obeyed it. Graham knew damn well that was because Tiger didn’t feel like talking, not because he followed any rules but his own.
Tiger was gigantic, with black and orange hair and yellow eyes. He wasn’t quite right in the head, having been created in a laboratory instead of being born in the wild. Tiger was one of a kind, and growing up in a cage hadn’t exactly made him sane.
Most Shifters were wary of him, even though Liam vouched for him. Tiger had calmed a lot, Graham had noticed, since taking a mate.
The mention of Tiger moved attention from Graham to Tiger, which had been Graham’s intent. The other Shifters had been studying Graham a little too closely. A Shifter’s natural instinct when near anything Fae-spelled was to kill it.
“It’s settled then,” Eric said. “Morrissey will put his hands on the Collar-making Fae and bring him out here—subtly. I know a place near Las Vegas we can keep him. McNeil is right that we need him near us, but Bowman’s right that we need it to be far from Shifters with a grudge plus prying human eyes. We’ll let you know.”
“And you need to let us talk to the human woman,” Bowman said. “Her name is Misty, right?”
Silence. Graham stood up, growling as he went. Tiger rose with him, but moved to Graham’s shoulder, as though backing him up, not stopping him.
“Why do you want to talk to Misty?” Graham asked, his voice soft but savage.
Bowman kept his seat, not looking intimidated. “This woman has seen the Fae, in the real world, twice. You’ve only met him in a dream. I want to know why this Oison singled her out.”
“She has no idea,” Graham said, a snarl in his throat. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“I want to judge for myself,” Bowman said. “If she shared the dream with you, and the Fae contacted her, she must be important somehow.”
“Doesn’t mean she needs to stand in front of a bunch of Shifters and explain herself,” Graham said, his growl more pronounced. “She’s an innocent bystander. Leave her alone.”
Eric could jump in anytime and help out, couldn’t he? But Eric sat back, looking as lazy as ever, and let Graham talk. Only Tiger had come to stand at Graham’s side.
“My mate is human,” Tiger said now, his voice like broken gravel. “Our mates should not be made to face other Shifters.”
“But the woman Misty is nae his mate,” Eoin pointed out in his Scottish lilt. “Is she?”
“Not yet,” Graham said.
Bowman said, “I hear your Lupines are pressuring you into taking a Lupine mate. So the human woman must be a passing thing. Yet she already knows Shifter secrets, such as our connection with the Fae.”
“Hell, I don’t even know much about our connection with the Fae,” Graham snapped. “But I wouldn’t care whether Misty was a groupie I shagged once and dumped—I’m not forcing her to face a Shifter interrogation squad.”
“Neither will I,” Eric said mildly. He hadn’t risen, but such was the other Shifters’ respect for him that they all went quiet and let him speak. “I’ll monitor Misty. I too think she’s significant if the Fae sought her, even if only to ensnare Graham and the rest of us. But leave it to me. If she knows nothing, she should be left alone.”
Bowman considered a long time, but he nodded in the end. The others seemed to conclude that what was good enough for Bowman was good enough for them.
“I’ll find the Collar maker then,” Liam said. “And get him to Eric in Las Vegas. We all should be able to have access to him.”
“Agreed,” Eric said. He stood up.
And that was it. Meeting adjourned. A few Shifters walked out right away, but the others took their time. A few went into the bar for a refreshing beer. Thinking about cold beer made Graham’s unnatural thirst kick in, and he fought it by marching out the door into the bright heat of the parking lot.
“We rode all the way down here for that?” Graham asked Eric as they went to their motorcycles. The sun was hammering down, this stretch of the river racking up the hottest summer temperatures in the country. Not helping with the thirst.
“Phones aren’t secure,” Eric said, mounting his bike. “Neither is e-mail. The Guardian network is secure, but this isn’t Guardian business.”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t find some way out from under this spell, it might become Guardian business,” Graham said darkly. “As in Guardian’s sword, inside me.”
“Spell, is it?” Liam had materialized out of nowhere, or so it seemed, and now he studied Graham with his too-knowing blue eyes. “You’re ensorcelled still, aren’t you? Don’t worry; I’ll keep it to myself. You think the Collar-making Fae can help un-ensorcell you?”
“I haven’t the faintest f*cking idea,” Graham said. “I’m more worried about what the Fae bastards are up to with our Collars. They need to be stopped. If I die in the process, then I do.”
Liam’s Feline eyes narrowed as his gaze fixed hard on Graham. “Huh,” he said finally. Nothing more.
Graham looked behind Liam at Tiger. “Hey, crazy. How are you?”
Tiger took a moment to consider. “I’m well,” he said. He put a lot of conviction into the short answer.
Eric laughed. “Glad to hear it. Having a cub on the way changes a Shifter, doesn’t it?”
Tiger nodded once and gave Eric a faint smile. Scary, watching that big man smile. Graham had seen Tiger tear apart a human man without even trying—Graham had shot Tiger with two heavy bursts from a tranq rifle before Tiger even slowed down.
Having a cub on the way changes a Shifter, doesn’t it? Eric’s question hit Graham as Liam and Tiger moved off, and Graham and Eric started their bikes.
Graham remembered sharply how proud he’d been back in the day to have gotten his mate belly-full. He’d been so protective of Rita, and both had been happy and excited. I was so young, Graham thought. Sure the world would do anything I wanted it to.
He and Eric rode out of Laughlin, heading for the rugged hills that lined the river. On the other side of those would be Searchlight and a flat, almost alien-looking desert landscape that stretched for miles. Down on that desert floor, it was hard to guess that a glittering city full of people craving entertainment existed less than a hundred miles away.
The ride gave Graham plenty of time to remember Rita, how into her Graham had been, how proud of his unborn cub. Graham’s father had been clan leader then—seventy-five years ago. The old man had been hard-bitten and quick to punish, but he’d held the wolf pack—the extended clan—together. Out in the wilderness of Montana, that had been important. Graham, as his second, had been wild and untamable. Rita had been just as wild as Graham.
And then she’d died bringing in Graham’s cub. Just like that. One day there, full of hope; the next day, Rita and the stillborn boy cub had been taken away from him. The Guardian had thrust his sword into both Rita and the cub, and their bodies had crumpled to dust. Graham had scattered their ashes in the mourning ceremony, but he’d been numb, unable to weep.
He’d spent the next year alone out in the woods, living rough. He’d returned to find his father dying, other wolves in the pack ready to try to take over the minute he drew his last breath.
Graham had proved he was leader by preventing the takeover and punishing the instigators. He’d nursed his father through his last days, sending for the Guardian while the elderly wolf still lingered, to let him go out with dignity. Another mourning ceremony, but this time, Graham hadn’t had the leisure to go grieve for a year in the wild. He’d had to kick plenty of ass to stay leader, and had earned the reputation of being a mean bastard.
Graham had survived by learning to push away his pain. Now, during this ride through the waves of heat back to the city, the pain rushed at him and washed over him.
Graham had to hold himself together—for Dougal, for the orphaned cubs, for his clan and all the Lupines—whether they liked it or not. But he was achingly lonely.
Misty was a sweet spot in every day. And damned if Graham would let any of the Shifters come for her, question her, touch her, even look at her.
Now, Graham might be dying, or worse, taken as slave by the Fae. If that happened, he hoped Eric or someone would just kill him. He’d had a full life, didn’t matter.
Graham’s one regret was that he’d not had any time to spend with Misty. Always something else distracted him, plus Graham had backed off her because his pack didn’t want him taking a human mate. He’d always agreed with them—until Misty had smiled at him at a bar nearly a year ago.
Graham needed to talk to her. To see her. To immerse himself in her. He needed to find her, touch her, kiss her.
But when Graham stopped for gas inside the city limits, and his phone rang, it was Dougal, frantic and half crying. “Matt and Kyle are gone,” Dougal said, his voice blasting through the phone. “They disappeared, and I can’t find them anywhere.
? ? ?
Misty stared up at Ben. “I think you’d better tell me exactly what you mean.”
“Just what I said.” Ben kept his fists on her desk, his brown eyes focused on her. He didn’t have the same black-hole stare of the Fae—Ben appeared to be human, but that didn’t mean he was safe. “McNeil is going to die, unless you help him.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Misty demanded.
Paul stood behind Ben, his arms folded, looking ashamed but making no move to stop Ben. “Listen to him, Misty. He’s a friend.”
“I’m waiting for him to say something worth listening to.” Misty kept her voice hard, as she’d learned to as a kid when other kids bullied her. She’d learned how to put on the hard shell while protecting her softer self. She’d protected Paul as well.
“I know all about the Fae’s spell,” Ben said. “You cured yourself somehow, Misty. For that I say—respect.” He gave her a nod. “But that counterspell only works on humans. Shifters aren’t cured by it. Helping Graham will be harder.”
Misty’s worry rose, and with it anger and fear. How did Ben know about the spell and whether it had cured her or not? “What are you?” she asked.
“No Fae in me,” Ben said. “No Shifter either. But I’ve made it my business to know about these things.”
“Can we get back around to Graham dying? Why are you saying I can save him?”
“It will be dangerous. I can’t lie to you, Melissa Granger. But I’ll help you. I’ll lead you on this quest and keep the path as safe as I can.”
“Quest? What quest?” Misty got to her feet. “Did I wake up in Lord of the Rings?”
Ben chuckled. “The journey won’t be that long. You won’t have to leave the city, not really.”
“Not really?” Misty glared at him. “You haven’t told me anything I want to hear yet.”
“That’s what happens to messengers,” Ben said. “We’re hated if we bring bad news, loved if we bring good. But I’m more than a messenger. I’m a guide.”
“I learned a long time ago not to blindly follow anyone,” Misty said. “If you can’t give me exact details on how I can save Graham, I’d like you to leave. The last person who coerced me into ‘helping’ made me poison Graham with Fae water. Forgive me for not instantly trusting you.”
Ben lifted his fists from her desk and shrugged. “That’s to be expected. Ask around about me.”
“I will.” Misty started to reach for the phone, as though ready to start making calls now.
Ben’s smile vanished. “Don’t wait too long to trust me, Misty. This Fae you met, Oison, he’s powerful, and he’s vindictive. He wants Graham because he’d a good leader. If you want to save Graham from him, you’ll need help, and that help is me.”
Misty lowered her hand from the phone and sat back down in her chair, Ben’s declarations spinning around her thick and fast.
“Graham saved me from Flores,” Paul broke in. “I wanted to help him. Ben said he could.”
How Ben had been so handy, Misty wasn’t sure. She needed the full story before she decided anything, which meant talking to Paul alone.
If Paul had a weakness, it was in being too easily coerced. He tended to believe in people stronger than he was, and he let them talk him into things. This was why he’d been joyriding in a car with his friends when an accident had occurred that had sent Paul to prison. In prison, he’d been bullied by Sam Flores until an even bigger bully convinced Paul to trust him.
Ben could be fine, or he could be shady. Paul wasn’t the best judge of character, unfortunately.
“I’ll get back to you,” Misty said. “Now, I have a hugely busy afternoon ahead of me, as you can probably guess.”
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Ben said. “All of it. But I get it.” He lifted a sticky note from the top of her pad, grabbed a pen from her pen holder, and scribbled a number on it. “This is me. Call me when you decide—or about anything. Just remember, McNeil needs you. You can save him, but it has to be your choice.”
He stuck the yellow note in front of her, dropped the pen, gave Misty a nod, and left the office, touching his fist to Paul’s on the way out.
Paul closed the door. He faced Misty with the defiance he’d learned as he’d changed from scared teenager to a young man who’d had to grow up overnight.
“He’s legit, Misty.”
Misty spread her hands on her desk. “Where did you meet him?”
“Told you. Through my parole officer. Ben’s rehabilitated. Is doing well for himself.”
“What does he do?”
“Construction work mostly. But he knows what he’s talking about.” He gave her the little smile that reminded her of the young Paul who’d been taken away. “I wouldn’t have believed him either if I hadn’t met the Shifters and Reid. If he can help, listen to him.”
Misty lifted her hands. “How did he get in touch with you? And how did he know about what happened to me, and Graham? That’s what’s bugging me. What did you tell him?”
“Not much. He called me this morning, said he’d heard about Flores, and you and Graham getting stuck in the desert. That wouldn’t be hard to figure out, if one of Flores’s boys talked about it. Ben hears a lot about the criminal world.”
“I can see that, but what about the spells? And the Fae?”
Paul shrugged. “I have no idea, but he helps people. That I do know.”
He looked earnest, pleading. Misty let out a quiet breath. “I won’t dismiss him out of hand.” Misty’s instincts were telling her to, but she’d seen things in the last year to make her doubt her instincts. “But I need to talk to Graham first.”
Paul relaxed and gave her a nod. “Sure. Thanks, Misty.”
Paul really didn’t need to thank Misty when he was trying to do her a favor, but she understood. “Now get out of my office, kid,” she said, growling the banter they’d always used to use. “You’re distracting me.”
Paul gave her a grin and walked out, a swagger in his step.
As soon as he closed the door, Misty picked up her cell phone and punched Graham’s number. He was near the top of her favorites, right after her mother in Los Angeles. How pathetic was that?
Graham didn’t answer, and a recorded voice came on to tell Misty that the number couldn’t be reached. That worried Misty enough to call Cassidy, who told her Graham and Eric had left together on Shifter business.
“Tell him to call me,” Misty said. “It’s important.”
Cassidy promised to, then hesitated. “You all right?”
“Not really. Cass, can you or Diego find out all you can about a man called Ben . . .” Misty picked up the sticky note, “. . . Williams. I have his phone number if that helps.” She read it off.
“Sure. Who is he?”
“I have no idea. He might be fine. But I just want to know.”
“We’ll check him out.” Another pause. “If you need to talk, Misty, you know you can always call me.”
“Thanks. I think if I talk right now though, I’ll end up blithering or crying. I need to keep it together.” As she’d done her whole life.
“I get it,” Cassidy said. “Let me know.”
Misty hung up and sat a long time staring at the name and number on the sticky note. What she knew and didn’t know wrapped around each other, tangling with her emotions and making her slightly sick to her stomach. Or maybe she’d had too much green sauce at lunch.
Pressing the note back to her desk, Misty left the office. “Xav,” she said, approaching him where he was helping his guys lift shelves back onto brackets. “What did you think of the guy who just left here? Ben, Paul’s friend.”
Xav’s dark stare fixed on her, and his end of the shelf sagged. “What guy?”
“Shorter than you, hefty, dark eyes, tatts. With my brother?”
“I saw your brother, but no one else. When was this?”
“A few minutes ago. Right before Paul came out of my office.”
Xav’s focus sharpened. “I didn’t see anyone. Before or after. And I’ve been watching.”
“Oh.”
“Damn it.” Xav handed his end of the shelf to one of the other security men and moved away, taking out his phone as he stalked through the back to the alley.