Wolf at the Door

chapter Forty-nine



“I don’t know who Rachael thinks she’s kidding with all this meet-me-all-the-way-across-town-in-half-an-hour bullshit,” Edward informed the king of the vampires. “It’s so obvious she’s going to go to her place to either look for the chamber lady, or is setting up a meeting so the chamber lady comes to the hobbit hole where all will be revealed . . . something stupid and brave and really illogical.”

Eric Sinclair, beloved of Betsy and king of the undead, grinned. Edward had to make an actual, conscious effort not to flinch from that look. “Brave and really illogical would accurately describe Her Majesty.”

“And a lover of all things smoothie.”

The king chuckled, a sound that was somehow light and dark at the same time. “Yes. That, too.”

“Thanks for helping me split them up.”

“Not at all. I prefer my queen to be half a city away from possible felony assault. And she takes justifiable pride in knowing she can go out into the world earlier in the day than I can. So it was a fine thing, letting her leave first.”

He’d thought that was kind of weird but had decided not to say anything yet. But yeah, Betsy could go outside while it was still light out. Sinclair couldn’t. He had to wait until it was almost full dark, like now.

Edward pointed at his chest as they rolled silently into the driveway for the hobbit hole. “Knew it. Totally called it. You asked Betsy and Tina and Beriberi to go where you’re pretty sure the bad guy isn’t.”

“It was not a question of pretty sure.”

“No?”

“No. The killer is there right now.”

“Wait, you knew she’d be at her office downtown?”

Sinclair just looked at him. Edward almost heard the click as he got it: “You knew she’d be here, laying here for Rachael in her very own hobbit hole! Oooh, your wife’s gonna be soooo pissed at you!”

“I am aware, Edward.”

“You’ll be on Sofa Sentry for months!”

“I am aware, Edward.”

“All right, sheesh, calm down. So what’s the plan?”

“You stay here while I suavely save the day.”

“Yes, and here on Planet Real Life, what’s the plan?”

But then things got unpleasant really, really fast, because King Sinclair said, “Gun.” (Everybody called him Sinclair, even his wife!) And all Edward could do was run in after him and hope he was somehow in time or, barring that, that he could somehow help.

As it turned out, no one needed his help.

The king of the vampires had rushed in fast enough to knock the gun away without doing any real damage to a frowsy, middle-aged woman in an orange T-shirt. But Orange T-shirt wasn’t inclined to meekly surrender, because she was going for Rachael.

And Rachael! Rachael had a look of fury on her face that Edward had never seen on anyone, ever. He had time for a confused thought/prayer (please don’t let me be dumb enough to ever make her that mad).

Then Rachael was reaching for Orange T-shirt, and Orange T-shirt was reaching for Rachael with just as much hatred and intensity on her face, and for a second everything was all sharp teeth and razor-sharp nails and blurred limbs and then Rachael . . . Rachael grabbed her. Dragged her. She—

Edward had to think about it and, though it happened right in front of him, he didn’t have senses that had evolved in a way for him to take in every point of action. So after he had thought about it for a while in his careful, planning, tool-making mind, he realized what he had seen.

Orange T-shirt, reaching. Rachael, also reaching . . . and grabbing, and seizing, and hauling the other woman hard and fast, dragging her across the desk and then lifting her in the air and slamming her back down, only she slammed the woman’s head on the edge of the desk; Rachel shoved her down so hard and so fast her neck broke instantly with a crack Edward would hear, on and off, in nightmares for the rest of his life.

Rachael had broken the woman’s neck on the edge of the desk, and done such a thorough job that when the woman’s ass hit the carpet, she was already dead.

“Um . . . look out?” he managed. The vampire king was holding the murder weapon the way he’d hold a dead garter snake. Better remember to tell him to wipe his fingerprints off. Maybe he’s got his own secret police to worry about stuff like that. “We’re here to save you?”

“Oh, my, now look at this,” the king said mildly, but he was giving Rachael a sharp look, one with more than a little approval. “That was unexpected.”

“It was my right.” Rachael was breathing hard. Edward realized the woman was actually shaking. “She defiled my den, where my mate sleeps. It was my right. She defiled our den. Where he sleeps. It was my right, Edward. It was my right.”

“Sure it was, Rache. I know. She had a lot of nerve, huh? It’s all right.”

Trembling, a Rachael he had never seen before crept into his arms. She was shaking so hard he had a little trouble holding her at first. “If she would bring it when you weren’t here, she’d bring it when you were.” Rachael made a small sound, like a dry sob. “Oh, Edward, what if you’d been here when she brought that thing?”

“Never happen, not with Rachael Velveeta on the case. Listen, when you’re done having your nervous breakdown, can I have mine? Because I just watched you kill someone in a really awesome way, and although it’s a good thing, I think, it’s also freaking me out.”

“Okay, but I get to go first.”

“Naturally.”

“And my turn’s not done yet. Please hold me and make those dumb soothing noises like you do.”

He was happy to comply. Edward assumed that was some kind of Pack rule of thumb, the being-safe-while-sleeping concept. He was slowly beginning to understand that Rachael hadn’t killed Orange T-shirt in the heat of battle, or even in the cold glow of vengeance. She’d killed Orange T-shirt out of fear for his safety. She’d killed Orange T-shirt to protect him, the same as she would have for the kids they would someday have.

He supposed he should have been scared and worried, but he was too filled with pride, and his pride and his love were too big for any other emotion right now.

Being able to sleep soundly while not getting shot at must be a really big deal to the Pack, he decided. He also decided that it was an excellent rule for him, too. He didn’t have to ask if Rachael was on board.

“Well, well.”

Edward had forgotten all about the vampire king, who had seen everything but had very little to say, which Edward was starting to think was a standard thing with this guy. “This will be interesting. I very much like interesting.” King Sinclair smiled and, in the gloom, white teeth flashed. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”