CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Fang woke up in a back alley of the French Quarter, his head throbbing as the midmorning sun peeked in through the surrounding buildings to the shadows where he must have collapsed. Every part of his wolf’s body ached.

How had he gotten here?

Shifting his weight, he saw the blood coating his fur, but it wasn’t his blood. Though he was sore, he wasn’t wounded. Yet his body was completely saturated with it as if he’d rolled in it. He could even taste it in his mouth.

He turned human so that he could manifest a bottle of water and at least rinse the warm metallic taste out. It was thick on his taste buds and made him completely nauseated.

After sluicing the taste out, he leaned back against the warm brick wall to look up at the latticework of the metal balcony above his head.

What had happened? Fragmented images of the night before went through his mind like he’d been on some kind of drunken bender. He saw Aimee in his room again. But he hadn’t hurt her. The other images weren’t so clear. They were him with other people . . . one with a Were-Hunter.

A panther . . .

He was fighting the people, two of them . . . or was it three? But he didn’t know why. Closing his eyes, he tried to sort through those images. Still, they were cloudy and confusing. There were growls and insults. Fists and swords. Metal flashing as blood poured.

“Did I kill someone?” He remembered a . . . was it a man fighting with him? Maybe it was a demon. The images weren’t clear enough to really remember. All they did was confuse him. His head pounded.

Needing something to center him, he manifested a cell phone and called Aimee.

“Fang?”

He let out a relieved breath the moment he heard her soft voice. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she soothed him all the way to the core of his being. “Hey, baby, I—”

“Where are you?”

He arched a brow at the sharpness of her tone. She sounded panicked and strange. “I don’t know. An alley somewhere.”

“What happened to you last night?” Now her words were accusatory. “I tried to find you and couldn’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The police are looking for you.”

That slammed into him like a fist. Raking his hand over his head, he tried to make sense of everything. “What?”

“They want to bring you in for questioning. Two humans and a Were-Hunter were killed last night. Greg, who only came here a few days ago, went out to hook up with a woman and never came back. They found him late last night with bite wounds . . . someone had ripped out his jugular.” She paused before she whispered, “Everyone thinks it was you, Fang.”

Of course they did. ’Cause let’s face it, in a town riddled with demons, Daimons, and Weres, who else would have done it? Anger sliced through him that he of all people or animals would be the suspect. “What makes them think that?”

“A torn T-shirt was found in the alley with his body. It had your scent all over it.”

Oh. Well, that was a little more damning than he wanted. Her words also brought back a flash of someone going for him out of the shadows. Of his shirt being ripped off while he fought them, but he couldn’t remember anything more than that.

Why had they been fighting?

Swallowing hard, Fang clutched the phone in his hand. “What do you think?”

“I . . . I don’t know. You were really out of control when I was with you last night.”

Killer. She didn’t say the actual word, but then she didn’t have to. Her tone more than implied it and it cut through him that she could doubt him even a little after all they’d gone through together. Why couldn’t one person, just once, have faith in him?

But no. They always thought the worst where he was concerned.

That was okay, he was used to animals and people not having faith in him. Why should she? His own brother had thought him weak and selfish. Why should Aimee be any different? “Where were they murdered?”

“The humans on Exchange Place and Greg in an alley on Royal.”

Fang looked up at the sign he could see from his own alley.

Royal.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“What?”

Fang hung his head as fear went through him. Maybe he’d done it after all. He couldn’t remember not doing it and obviously he’d fought with someone over something potent. And someone other than him had been hemorrhaging badly. Bad enough, blood had been in his mouth and all over his fur.

Just like he’d bitten into someone’s jugular. . . .

Oh, shit, shit, shit. He was guilty. He had to be.

No, you’d never do something like that.

Or would he? With the demon inside him, he was capable of anything, and last night that demon had been out of control. And it had been blood hungry.

But he didn’t want to tell any of that to Aimee. “Nothing. Do you know what time the murders took place?”

“The humans no. Greg died about two A.M.”

Images of an Arcadian panther flashed as he saw himself attacking one. The guy had been human, then panther, then human again as they clashed. “What was Greg?”

“Panthiras Arcadius.”

Double shit.

Maybe her doubt about his innocence wasn’t so misplaced after all. It was beginning to look like he was guilty. “I gotta go.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Fang. Be careful. Please.” That was sincere and it touched him deep.

She might have doubts about his moral fiber, but she still cared about him. “You too.”

He hung up and slid the phone into his pocket. Leaning back against the redbrick wall behind him, he raked his hands through his hair as he tried to sort out what had happened. Nothing was clear. All he could remember were the emotions. The rage. The hunger.

What have I done?

Suddenly, he felt as if someone or something was watching him . . . looking around, he saw nothing out of place. Either with his eyes or his senses. At least not until a large raven landed on the black wrought-iron door gate catercorner to him. It angled its head as if watching him intently.

Yeah . . . a bird. A friggin’ bird was putting him on edge.

I am definitely losing my mind. And still the feeling of being watched persisted while there was nothing around him to warrant the sensation. The rising sun had even banished the shadows that had been there when he awoke. No one could be watching him from where he sat. Not without being someplace he could see them too.

Except for the bird.

But for the fact there were no Were-Hunters of that species, he’d think it sentient the way it watched him. Gah, how pathetic am I that a bird is unsettling me?

Then he heard the sound of a loud bike thundering out on the street. It had a hell of an engine and he could hear the quickness of the gears changing as the rider accelerated. Someone knew how to drive. The sound grew louder and louder, until it was almost deafening.

Damn, dude, get a new muffler.

At least that was his thought until it came screaming into the alley in front of him. A gleaming 2000 Honda F6C Valkyrie, it had a throaty sound of pure raw power and a customized paint job of flames painted over the glossy factory black.

The rider wore a solid black Aerostitch-armored suit with a jet-black helmet. The only color on his body came from silver vambraces that ran from wrist to elbow and matching silver panels on his biker boots.

He looked at Fang as he shifted into neutral and the engine went into idle. “You might want to run.”

“I don’t run from shit.”

The man shook his head as he turned the bike off, put it on its stand and swung one long leg over it. “Suit yourself.”

Then Fang heard it. . . .

A sound that had haunted him every minute of his time spent in the Nether Realm. One that had made his blood run cold. It was unmistakable and clear, and it brought out the rage that was boiling inside of him now.

The sound of a Reaper. . . .

No, not one.

Many.

That sick tug of dread filled his stomach. He’d thought those battles were behind him. But it was obvious this newcomer not only knew of them. He was getting ready to fight them. “Who are you?”

“Zeke.” He held his hand out and his motorcycle transformed into a bright oversized sword unlike anything Fang had ever seen before.

The raven flew from the fence. As soon as it reached Zeke’s back, it turned into a woman dressed in a tight leather catsuit, corset, and a long black coat. Her short black hair fell in a sleek bob that framed perfect features and coal-black eyes. Sleek and deadly, she was stunningly beautiful.

She snapped her arms down and as she did so, claws and armor covered her hands.

Zeke looked at her over his shoulder. “She’s Ravenna and this is your last shot to get out while you can.”

Fang shook his head. “I’m in.”

Ravenna raked him with a disbelieving stare. “You a fool, wolf. I’d run if I could.”

Then all hell, literally, broke loose as the Reapers arrived. Out of the brick walls and street below their feet, they came out en masse. At least two dozen, though it was hard to differentiate among them. They fought as a cohesive unit and their typical strategy was to overwhelm their opponent, knock him to the ground, and then rip him to shreds.

Fang manifested a sword, not the one Thorn had given him, but another. “Can I kill these?”

Zeke ran one through, then kicked another back. He swung a wide arc, beheading a third one in a single stroke. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

Fang caught the first Reaper to reach him and sliced it open. It screamed, collapsing on the ground as another came for his back.

Ravenna caught it from behind. “Don’t shift forms,” she warned before she swung around to confront another.

Fang hadn’t planned on it. As a wolf, he was no match for these. He couldn’t bite into them and it left him with nothing else to do except run.

And this time, he wanted them dead. All the months of being locked in hell with them and of being bitten and clawed came boiling up through his body. He wanted vengeance and he was taking it out on every Reaper he could reach.

He slung his hand out intending to blast a demon, but Ravenna caught his wrist.

“That will only make them stronger. Reapers are special. Hand-to-hand only.”

At least she told him the rules before he made the mistake. Thanks, Thorn, you bastard. Fang kicked the next one back as Zeke stabbed another. Their numbers seemed to double for a few minutes, as if they were calling in reinforcement.

At least until Ravenna made a high-pitched screech. Wanting to howl, Fang hit the deck as pain tore through his head. It was excruciating. But he wasn’t the only one who felt it. The Reapers shrank back, screaming until they finally vanished.

His ears ringing, Fang pushed himself up to glower at her for that. He wanted to rip her head off over the agony pounding in his skull.

Zeke snatched his helmet off and had a look on his face as if he felt about the same way. His dark brown hair was spiked up in front from the helmet and sweat, but the rest fell to his shoulders. With two days’ growth of beard on his face, he looked lethal in spite of the almost angelic beauty of his features. Pressing one hand to his ears, he glared at Ravenna. “How many times have I told you not to do that shit?”

“They were reinforcing. You want me to let them have you next time?”

“Depends on how long this migraine lasts. Damn it, woman, just stab me through the skull next time.” Zeke flexed his jaw as if trying to clear his head.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Shaking his head to ease his own pain, Fang stood up and surveyed the black birdlike bodies around them. Blood ran thick on the sidewalk as a few of them twitched from death. He dissolved his sword and caught his breath.

Zeke and Ravenna turned to face him. “Nice work,” Zeke offered.

Fang nodded in appreciation as he continued to survey the bodies. “What caused this?”

Ravenna patted him on the chest, right over his heart. “You have Phrixis inside you, buddy.” She gestured to the demon remains. “They want his powers, which means if they kill you, they get your powers and his. You’re the Star of India, baby.”

Fang couldn’t accept that. It didn’t make sense. “How can they be here?”

Zeke held his hand out and shot out a stream of fire to consume the bodies. “They’ve always been here. You just never saw them until your unfortunate journey into their domain and you had your eyes opened. The doorway between this world and theirs is barely guarded, so coming and going really isn’t all that hard for certain species such as these.”

Fang narrowed his gaze as he finally understood. “So you’re Hellchasers too?”

Zeke snorted as if Fang had just insulted him. “No. We work for the right side of this equation.” He all but spat those words.

And Fang didn’t? What exactly was Zeke implying? “People, speak a language I can understand because right now, I’m lost. Last time I checked, I was one of the good guys.”

Zeke shook his head. “You might be one, but the asshole you work for certainly isn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I answer to the archangels Samael and Gabriel. While Thorn is supposedly on our side, he is the blood son of our bitterest enemy and therefore we don’t know where his real loyalties lie. He says he’s with us, but I don’t trust him at all. Given his father and his past, it’s just a matter of time before he switches sides and leaves us with our pants down.”

“Bitterest enemy?”

Zeke’s features turned to stone. “Lucifer.”

Fang gaped in disbelief as that reality smacked him hard in his gut. Thorn was Lucifer’s son? Why hadn’t he seen that?

Because you were desperate. Aimee’s life had been threatened and nothing else had mattered to him. No wonder Thorn had been so secretive.

“What have I done?”

Ravenna clapped him hard on the shoulder. “You sold your soul to the wrong side, bud. Congrats.”

Fang still refused to believe that. “But he fights the demons.”

Zeke let out a long breath. “He has so far. Who knows what tomorrow brings. One thing I’ve learned while doing this is that people change, people betray, and the only one you can truly trust is yourself.”

Ravenna gave him a harsh stare.

Zeke snorted. “Like you wouldn’t cut my throat if someone gave you the chance.”

She nodded and laughed. “Oh, well that’s true. I really do hate you most days.”

Fang ignored them as he tried to understand what was going on. “Wait. Could you explain all this to me? Thorn hasn’t been forthcoming with information. What exactly do we do and how do you fit into this equation?”

“C’mon, Fang,” Ravenna said as if talking to a toddler who had no higher cognitive functioning. “You didn’t really think the Greek and Atlantean pantheons were the only ones still fighting the good fight, did you? Or that the Daimons were the only demons. You know about the Charonte, the gallu, the Dimme, Harvesters, and Reapers. Slug demons like Misery. . . . There are thousands of classes and all of us, regardless of pantheon or power source, have soldiers to fight them.”

Fang looked at her suspiciously. “What are you?”

“Half human, half Kalios demon.”

Kalios were benevolent demons. He’d learned that in the Nether Realm. The only one of their kind he’d met had been torn apart by a Harvester while trying to help him.

He narrowed his gaze on Zeke. “You?”

“Born human. Classified now as a Necrodemian, which loosely translates as death to demons or demon executioner. Unlike a Hellchaser, I have the ability to kill demons without consequence as long as I follow certain protocols which really, really blow most days.”

“While we just send them back.”

Zeke gave him a sarcastic salute. “You’re getting it.”

Fang put his hands on his hips. “I still don’t understand how I got dragged into all this.”

Ravenna patted him on the shoulder in sympathy. “The last Malachai has been tapped and with it, the oldest dark powers are uniting again to take over the earth. Our soldiers are being rallied and you, my friend, have stepped straight into this battle.”

“I was only trying to protect Aimee.”

“And that emotion is what has damned many a good soul.”

Fang supposed so. But it still didn’t lessen the fact that he’d seriously fubarred his life. And all this because he’d wanted a beer. . . .

And ended up wanting a bear.

“So is Thorn evil?” he asked Zeke.

“He’s the son of one of the darkest powers ever known. And his father was a trusted soldier for good until he turned. Unlike his father, Thorn has resisted that temptation most of the time.” Zeke let out a tired sigh. “In the end, we really don’t know. Many members of his army have been known to turn and had to be put down . . . usually after making the same mistake you did when you killed Phrixis. When the demons kill the Hellchaser, they’re made more powerful and harder for us to kill. Which begs the question, does Thorn fail to warn his Hellchasers about the demons on purpose, wanting the demons to get more powerful for his father? Or is he just that forgetful?”

Ravenna let out a derisive snort. “Or as I suspect, he’s just a mentally twisted fuck who likes head games.”

Fang would like an answer to that himself. “Bet if I asked—”

“You’d get the same answer we get. He’d either put you through a wall or set you on fire.” Zeke smirked. “The fire part really hurts, by the way. I don’t know what that bastard has in his fist, but it burns like nothing you’ve ever felt. For the record, stay on his good side.”

Great. Just great. Stay on the good side of a man sired by pure evil. “So I’m no better off here than I was in the Nether Realm.”

Ravenna laughed. “Are you insane? Of course you’re better off. You can actually sleep here without fear of being brutalized, and there is real food that is worth eating. But . . . you have a crosshair on your back that looks like the mighty Target sign off I-10. Because the demons are all about gathering more power, you’re extra-appealing to them. A possessed Were-Hunter . . . you’re lucky I’m not trying to kill you.”

Fang ignored that last bit. “So how do I get it off?”

Zeke scratched his chin. “Well, my bosses aren’t much more forthcoming with information than yours is. We can try to resurrect Phrixis out of you, which could really suck and not work. It could also kill you. Or we could find the one who summoned him and break the chain she used. That should eradicate the little bugger.”

“Why didn’t Thorn tell me that?”

“I told you, we don’t really know what side he’s on. You’ve got to figure either he wants a demon to eat you and get more powerful to fight us. Or he wants you to be more powerful to fight them. Since we don’t know if Good Fang or Bad Fang will win, it’s a dangerous game he’s playing.”

“Personally, I want the demon out. How do we find his summoner?”

Ravenna arched a brow at him. “We’re in N’Awlins, boy. Any idea how many people here that could be?”

“Well,” Zeke said, “there is a third way.”

“And that is?”

“An act so purely good and selfless it drives out the demon.”

Fang liked the sound of that one. At least it had the most likely prospect of working and not getting him killed . . . maybe. “What is that? Saving an infant?”

Zeke shrugged. “Don’t know. The PTB aren’t big on specifics.”

“PTB?”

Ravenna answered for him. “Powers That Be.”

“Great. So what do I do? Just hang out and hope the demon leaves or that his summoner just happens to fling himself under my bike?”

Ravenna let out a sinister laugh. “Fasten your seat belts, buddy. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

“Thanks, Bette. I personally would like something a little more concrete.”

Zeke picked his helmet up from the ground. “Well, that’s the best we can do for now. Sorry.”

Sorry? That was a word Fang would love to make that man eat. “You mentioned a Malachai. What is that?”

Zeke kicked to scatter the dust of the Reapers who’d finally stopped burning. “Easiest explanation is to think of them like an army of fallen angels. Demonic, cold-blooded, and capable of tearing apart anything that got in their path.”

“But you said there was only one left.”

Zeke nodded. “At one time, there were two armies. The Sephirii who fought for good and the Malachai who were pure evil. Now we’re down to one of each. The last Sephiroth is enslaved and the last Malachai vanished. We assumed him dead until a few months back when there was a rupture in the ether.”

“A rupture?”

Zeke nodded. “Adarian, the last Malachai, had a son we didn’t know about. Somehow the little bastard was born off our radar. When he came into his powers, it made an unmistakable clamor.”

“Where is this last Malachai?”

“That’s the kicker. We don’t know. We’re trying to find him, but whoever is hiding him is determined to keep him under wraps and we don’t know why.”

“I’m sure it can’t be good.”

“Yeah . . . at any rate, you’ve consigned yourself to a tenuous post. Watch your back, wolf.” Zeke tossed his sword into the air. It transformed back into his motorcycle.

Ravenna returned to her raven form and flew off while Zeke started the bike.

“I will try to keep an eye on you, wolf. Just be wary of shadows and keep your eyes open for Phrixis to control you.”

Disgusted over this new turn of events, Fang waited until they were gone. He still had no clarity about last night or his future, but one thing was sure, he had no intention of allowing the police to question him until he knew more about what had happened.

And most of all, not until he knew more about what was going on.

Over the next few months as he avoided the cops and his family, Fang learned exactly what Zeke had meant about having a target on his back. He felt like he was back in the Nether Realm as demon after demon pursued him.

But the worst part were the blackouts he kept having where he couldn’t remember what he’d done.

Where he’d been.

He was still alive, but that was the only thing he knew for certain. And as the blackouts became more frequent, he was afraid to go near Aimee. He would wake up with all manner of injuries that he couldn’t explain. Bite marks, wounds, bruises.

If only he knew what they were from.

More people and Were-Hunters were dying and he was beginning to think he was to blame. Every morning, he woke up covered in blood with no explanation for what had caused it.

Fang moved deeper into the swamp, hoping that if he stayed away from everyone he wouldn’t hurt them. Thoughts of harming Vane or Bride, or most important, Aimee, tortured him.

Why couldn’t he remember what he did at night? He wanted desperately to go to Aimee and tell her what was going on, but he didn’t dare. For one, he was evading custody. And two, he was afraid he might inadvertently hurt her during one of his blackouts.

He’d come so close that last time he’d seen her. Had she not kneed him . . .

Fang didn’t want to think about it. He wouldn’t be able to live, knowing he’d hurt her.

What is going on?

“I want you out of me!” he snarled at Phrixis, who was back in his head, telling him to kill.

Why couldn’t he have peace?

Worst of all, he wanted to see his nephew and Aimee. He wanted to have a moment of being held by someone who wasn’t as suspicious of him as he was of himself. But he wouldn’t endanger them.

Not until he knew the truth.

Aimee hung up the phone in frustration as she sat alone in her mother’s office. She wanted to crush the worthless device into a billion pieces.

“You still can’t get him?”

She glanced up to find Dev standing in the doorway, watching her with a concerned frown on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you’re calling Fang.”

She started to lie, but why bother? He’d just be able to smell it on her. “I’m worried about him.”

“I don’t blame you. Body count is mounting and Stu called to say they’ve set up a special task force to bring him in.”

Stu had been keeping them all posted about the killings. Each one had looked like an animal had done it. Like a wolf or a dog.

But the bloodiest kills had been the Were-Hunters, all Arcadians, who’d died. No regular animal would have the abilities to do that. There was another Were-Hunter out there preying on them.

Aimee swallowed the cold lump in her throat as she considered a possibility she really didn’t want to think about. “Do you think he’s guilty of killing them?”

Dev sighed. “Eight of the dead are Were-Hunters. It doesn’t look good for him.”

No, it didn’t. And the fact he wouldn’t talk to her just made it worse. Not to mention, he was no longer staying with Vane. No one knew where he was.

And that made her want to weep.

“Aimee?”

She looked past Dev’s shoulder at Maman’s call in the hallway. She stood up and moved toward him to make room at the desk for her mother. “Yes?”

Dev stepped aside so that Maman could enter. “A special session of the Omegrion has been called. I think you should attend.”

Aimee frowned at the unusual request. “Why?”

“Because it’s about Fang.”

Her heart sank so fast that she was dizzy. Dev caught her against him. “I’ll go with you.”

She nodded, grateful for his support. “Thank you, Maman, for telling me.”

Her mother inclined her head.

Patting Dev on his arm, Aimee left him and went upstairs to dress herself in a conservative gray suit. She’d never been to the council before and had no idea what to expect.

Dev met her downstairs, dressed in jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt. He stood next to Maman. Aimee paused as she saw them there together. Her mother was so statuesque and exquisitely beautiful. Regal to the marrow of her bones. Her mother possessed such a feminine elegance that Aimee had always felt like an ugly duckling in comparison.

Though they didn’t always agree, she loved that woman with all of her heart. And she wished she could be more like her and make her proud.

Dev was his usual kicked-back, charming self. Though he lacked Maman’s refinement that had been passed to Zar and Alain, there was something absolutely compelling about his down-to-earth charisma.

“Are we ready, mes enfants?”

Aimee took Dev’s hand. “We’re ready.”

Maman flashed them to Neratiti, the mysterious island home of Savitar. It was an island that moved constantly throughout the world as Savitar, a devout surfer, sought the perfect wave. He was a being of a thousand contradictions and mysteries.

And one Aimee had only met a few times in her life. To be honest, he scared the bejesus out of her.

But he wasn’t in the room when they arrived. Breathing deeply in relief of that, Aimee took a moment to look around the large circular room. Decorated in burgundy and gold, the room had large open windows that spanned from the top of the gilded ceiling to the black marble floor under her feet. Lushly decorated, it should have been tacky, and yet somehow the elaborate colors and designs worked together to create a beautiful canvas.

A large round table was set in the middle of the room with an impressive throne resting off to the side. She would take a guess that was Savitar’s seat.

Most of the Katagaria were already there and seated at the table. Aimee stepped back, somewhat intimidated by them. Dev stayed by her side with a stoic look that made her wonder what he was thinking.

Maman smirked at the vacant seats as she stepped near a tall, dark-haired panther. “Looks like the Arcadians are holding true to form, eh, Dante?”

“Always chickenshits, Lo. They won’t face us alone even here.” He looked past Maman to meet Aimee’s gaze.

Maman smiled warmly as she introduced them. “My daughter. Aimee, meet Dante Pontis.”

Aimee extended her hand to him. “You own the Inferno in Minnesota.” Though not an official sanctuary itself, it was still a well-known club.

“You know it.” He shook her hand, then held it out to Dev. “Good to see you again.”

“You too.”

Aimee frowned at the brotherly familiarity between them. “How do you two know each other?”

Dante winked. “Scouting bands . . . and other things.”

Aimee held her hand up in protest of what he was about to say.

“That was before Dante mated.”

Dante tapped his heart. The love in his eyes said it all. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, Dev. One day, I hope you know the joy Pandora brings to me.”

“Yeah, that’s not what you said when she was pregnant.”

Dante laughed.

Fury and Vane entered the room, their faces grim.

Aimee went over to them immediately. “Have you heard from Fang?”

“No.” Vane’s voice was filled with emotion. “I was hoping you had.”

She shook her head as the rest of the members flashed in and took seats at the huge round table.

She and Dev stepped back as two large doors were flung open with primal powers that shook the room. Savitar, dressed in a long flowing robe that reminded her of an Egyptian design, strode in with an aura of power so potent, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

His long dark hair flowed over his shoulders. Dark-complected, he wore a well-trimmed goatee, and when he scanned the room, his deep lavender eyes seemed to glow.

Every member stood as he walked over to his throne. He appeared to be furious and there was a noticeable panic emanating from every creature present.

Savitar glowered at them. “Cop a squat, animals and folks. I don’t want to be here any more than the rest of you so make it fast and get out of my hair. Let’s quickly run down the bullshit pedagogy. Hear ye . . .” He paused as if holding back a desire to hit something. “Who the hell wrote this crap? Welcome to the Omegrion Chamber. Here we gather, one rep from each branch of the two patrias. We come in peace”—he paused to snort derisively—“to make peace. I’m your mediator, Savitar, and if you don’t know that by now, you need to be hit in the head with a jackhammer and replaced because you’re too stupid to represent your patria. But in case you’re dense and forgot, I am the summation of all that was and what will one day be again. I make order from chaos and chaos from order, which is how I got drafted into this shit. Now let’s get on with this before I start splitting your hairs.”

His gaze went straight to Maman. “Nicolette, there have been a number of complaints against Sanctuary lately.”

Aimee’s panic swelled.

Maman, on the other hand, kept her composure. “Complaints? From whom?”

Savitar leaned to the side as he narrowed his gaze on her. “A group of jackals who say you not only refused to help them apprehend a wanted criminal but that you also gave him their location and set him loose on them.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Savitar held his hand up to silence her. “A pack of wolves has said that when one of your Sanctuary staff attacked them unprovoked in an alley outside of Sanctuary, you not only condoned his actions, but refused to hand him over. Likewise, you knowingly allowed Wren to be falsely accused and pursued by this council. And that you personally attacked a tiger in your own home. There have been others who say that you pick and choose who you help and when, rather than welcome everyone in as you’ve sworn to. What have you to say?”

Maman didn’t blink or flinch. “They’re lies.”

Vane stood up. “I back Nicolette with all good confidence.”

Savitar’s attention swung to him like a potent laser. “Boy, I haven’t even started with you yet. Right now your word doesn’t mean much.”

Aimee cast a scared look at Dev.

He took her hand and held it while he motioned for her to remain silent.

Savitar pinned Nicolette with a harsh stare. “Did you or did you not have your son warn Constantine that a group of jackals were after him?”

“They attacked my daughter in my own club. They threatened her life.”

Aimee looked at the blank seat that was Constantine’s. What had happened to him? Why wasn’t he here to back Maman?

Savitar gave her no quarter on the issue. “You should have told me, Nicolette. Unleashing their enemy on them is against the neutral code and you know that. And you still haven’t answered my question. Did you tell him?”

“Yes. I, not my children, informed Constantine that they were after him.”

She felt Dev’s hand tighten on hers at the lie. Dev had been the one who told Constantine. Maman was protecting him while offering herself up on the chopping block.

“And when Eli Blakemore and his pack told you, in sworn testimony, that his son and friends were attacked outside your club, did you fail to hand over the attackers?”

Aimee stepped forward.

“Don’t!” Dev snapped in her head. “Savitar will kill you.”

“This is wrong!”

“Aimee, don’t embarrass Maman. You know better.”

She did, but it was hard to stand here and listen to her mother being attacked over things that were exaggerated.

Maman lifted her chin with the dignity of a queen. “I don’t trust his pack or the lies they tell.”

“Did you fail to hand over their attackers?”

Because of her . . . Unshed tears choked her as she realized how much trouble she’d gotten her mother into. No wonder Maman was so harsh at times. While Aimee had known Savitar was unfeeling, seeing this . . .

What had she done? She’d endangered her mother while saving her friend.

And Maman was taking all of the blame on herself to protect them.

“Oui, I did in fact.”

Savitar shook his head. “And when we stood here and issued a warrant for Wren, did you not lie to the members of this council?”

“No, I spoke what I believed to be the truth.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolument. Yes.”

Savitar let out a tired sigh while he thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Lo . . . of all the members of this council, you knew better. What were you thinking?”

“What I was thinking was that Constantine, as a Regis of this council, should be warned. His pursuers came in and held a knife to the throat of my only daughter and they attacked my sons. Had I not cared about our license, I would have destroyed them on the spot. Instead, I thought it only fair that I warn Constantine that these people”—she spat the word—“would not honor the laws of sanctuary and for him to not bother seeking one.”

Savitar sat forward. “Limani means sanctuary. Telling a marked enemy where to find those out to kill him isn’t the code. What about the other accusation?”

“Blakemore is a pig. His son attacked Wren in the back alley and we captured him there, again after he attacked my daughter who was trying to help Wren.”

“I have sworn testimonies from ten of their pack members that Wren was the one who hit first.”

“Only in self-defense.”

“He drew first blood.” Savitar’s tone was chilling.

Still Maman didn’t back down and for that Aimee had a newfound respect for her mother. “And Blakemore would have killed him where he stood had I handed him over. I won’t condemn even an enemy to die when he was pushed by bullies.”

Savitar rose to his feet, something that made several members of the council gasp. Maman, however, didn’t move a muscle.

Savitar moved closer. “If what you’re saying is the truth, why didn’t you notify me?”

“I didn’t think it was worth bothering you over.”

Savitar stopped next to her chair. “Your mistake. Effective immediately, your license is suspended for six months. One more violation and it’s permanent.” Savitar turned to Vane. “And you . . . I told you to bring your brother with you.”

It was Vane’s turn to show no emotion. “I don’t know where he is.”

Savitar gave him a cutting glower. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

That didn’t go over with the big guy at all. Savitar looked as if he was about to unleash hell wrath down on all of them. “Very well. I see you need incentive to obey me. Have Fang here in forty-eight hours to stand trial or I’ll destroy the Kattalakis pack.” He narrowed his gaze on Fury. “Both of them. Adjourned!” He all but roared the last word before he vanished.

Noticeably shaken, the members began flashing out, but not before several made snide comments about Fang and the Peltiers.

Stunned by what had transpired, most of which had been her own fault, Aimee walked over to her mother. “Maman?”

Her mother didn’t show even the tiniest bit of emotion. But Aimee could feel it. She knew how hard this was on her. Without the license, anyone could attack them.

They had no shelter. Everything Maman had worked so hard for had been shattered.

What have I done?

Dev sank down beside their mother. “Maman, it’ll be all right.”

She took his hand in hers and studied it as if amazed by the size of it. “Non, mon fils. I want you to go and round up all of our family. Leave and don’t come back until the license is reinstated.”

Dev shook his head, his jaw tightening with that look of steeled obstinance they knew so well. “We can’t leave you.”

Maman slapped him. Hard. “Do not question me. You go and do as you’re told. Now!”

Dev’s features hardened. She could see his desire to strike back, but he knew what she did. Maman was upset and she was acting on an animal’s impulse. She had just risked her life to protect theirs.

Without another word, he vanished.

Aimee met Vane’s gaze as she went to speak to him. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you think?” he snarled at her.

Horror filled her. “You can’t hand Fang over to—”That monster was what she wanted to say, but she knew she couldn’t. Savitar might hear her and the gods only knew what he’d do then.

“I have a wife and child. My mate is pregnant again, Aimee, and she’s human. Am I supposed to give her up for a brother who won’t even talk to me anymore?”

Maman came to her feet. She raked a cold, hostile glare over Vane. “This is all your fault. You wolves brought this down on me. Before you came, we had peace and now—”

“Us?” Vane growled. “My brother wouldn’t have been involved in any of this had it not been for your daughter! I stand to lose my pack and my mate, and for what? A bear?”

Aimee stepped back as if she’d been slapped by those words.

Vane gave her a hard, cold stare. “You better find my brother and bring him to me.”

“And if I can’t?”

“You don’t want an answer to that question, little bear. Trust me.”

Aimee winced as she realized exactly what was going on here. Vane was going to betray Fang one last time, and he wanted her to be the tool to do it.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 640