A Fistful of Charms (40 page)

Brett started to laugh, the sound choking off when I pulled.

“Ow,” he said, as if I was simply bending back a finger, not ready to dislocate his shoulder. “Ms. Morgan. What the hell do you think you're doing, ma'am?”

I could hear Nick's truck. “Getting the hell out of here,” I said, stumbling as Jenks helped me stand upright without losing my grip. It was as awkward as all get-out, but we managed. A ring of weapons pointed at us. Jenks took my place, his face ugly as he bent his arm and pressed a knife to Brett's throat.

“You ever see a pixy battlefield?” he whispered in the Were's ear, and Brett lost the vestiges of humor. White-faced, he went passive. Which was really scary in itself.

The flash of a blue truck sped past.

“Too far, Ivy!” Jenks shouted, and there was the squeal of brakes quickly followed by the horns and the gunning of an engine.

I looked at my waistband and the phone. An insane need to giggle rose through me. I sure hoped we weren't roaming.

Another squeal of tires, and Nick's blue truck rocked to a stop at the end of the alley.

“Mom's here to pick us up, Jenks,” I quipped, limping to the curb. “I'll get the bags.”

I scooped up one of our bags, seeing as it was on the way and it sort of added to the travesty. My empty splat gun never shifted from Walter, though he was behind two rows of men. Coward.

“Hi, Ivy,” I said tiredly, tossing the bag into the truck bed and lurching in after it. Yeah, it was illegal to ride in the back, but seeing that we had just somehow beaten up three Were packs, I wasn't going to worry about it. “Thanks for the ride.”

Nick was in the front seat, and pale. He handed a pair of bolt cutters through the window.

“Hey, thanks!” I said, then started when Brett came thumping in beside me like a sack of potatoes. The Were was unconscious, and I looked at Jenks in question when he followed
him in, admittedly a hell of a lot more gracefully. “I don't want a hostage,” I said. Then wondered when Jenks had knocked him out. He wasn't dead, was he?

Grim-faced, Jenks shouted, “What are you waiting for, Ivy? God to say go?”

The truck lurched, and I steadied myself against the long silver locker Nick had bolted to the truck bed. My sweat went cold in the new breeze, and thinking we had done it, I pulled the hair from my eyes and smiled at Jenks. My smile faded.

As we jostled into traffic, he was using a plastic cord to truss Brett up with a painful savagery. I thought back to seeing his kids tearing apart the fairy nest in his garden. This was a side to him I'd never truly seen before, since the difference of our sizes had insulated me from it.

From inside the truck came Nick's petrified voice, “Go faster, Ivy! They're behind us!”

Wedging myself into the corner, I held my hair out of the way and blinked. I had expected to see Jeeps or Hummers. What I found were three Weres in wolf skin, tearing down the street after us. And they were fast. Really fast. And they didn't stop for red lights either.

“Son of a Disney whore,” Jenks swore. “Rache, you got any more charms in that gun?”

I shook my head, scrambling for a way out of this. My eyes darted to my ankle. “Jenks, get this thing off me.”

Brett was coming around, and when he tried to get upright, Jenks lashed out, savagely connecting with his head right behind his ear. Brett's eyes rolled back and he passed out.

“Hold on!” Nick shouted. “Right turn!”

Tossing my splat gun into the front, I gripped the side of the truck. The wheels skittered and hopped, but Ivy kept it on the road. Nick yelled an obscenity, and a motor home flashed by, tires squealing. I didn't want to know how close we had come to becoming a hood ornament.

My heart pounded and my gaze shot to my foot at the feel of cold steel against my skin. Jenks's shoulder muscles
bunched, and as we hit a pothole, the charmed silver band snapped.

Frantic, I sent my gaze behind us. Holy crap, they were right there!

“Ivy!” I shouted, stomach clenching. “When I say, hit the breaks.”

“Are you crazy!” she shouted, glancing back at me, her short black hair framing her face and getting into her eyes.

“Just do it!” I demanded, tapping a line. Line energy filled me, warm and golden. I didn't care that it was tainted black, it was mine. I took a breath. This was going to hurt if I didn't do it right.
Big circle. Big circle.
“Now!” I shouted.

The breaks screamed. I lurched, shocked to find Jenks's arm between my head and the metal cabinet. Brett slid forward and groaned.

“Rhombus!”
I shouted, the word raging from me hard enough to hurt my throat.

Heady and strong, the line energy flashed through me, expanding upward from the circle I had imagined painted on the pavement. It wasn't strong enough to hold a demon, but it would hold together long enough for what I wanted. I hoped.

I tossed my hair from my eyes even before the truck stopped rocking. Elation filled me as the pursing Weres slammed right into my circle.

“Yes!” I shouted, then spun at the sound of crunching metal and screams. It wasn't us. We were stopped! I sucked in my breath when I realized an oncoming car had smacked into the other side of my circle, amber and black in the sun. Aw, shit. I'd forgotten about the other lane.

Horns blew, and the car that had hit my circle was rear-ended.

“Oh, that was just beautiful!” Jenks said in admiration. His eyes were on the Weres making painful splurges of motion on the pavement. Apparently running into a wall hurt if you didn't have a round of alphas taking away your pain.

People were starting to get out of their cars, dazed and
excited. “Sorry!” I called out, wincing. Breaking my connection with the line, I took down the circle.

In the distance were sirens, and I could see flashing lights. Jenks tapped the window, and Ivy slowly accelerated, taking the first left she could and doubling back a street over, trying to put as much distance between us and the sirens as she could. I exhaled, falling to slump against the tool locker. I put a hand through the window, finding Ivy's shoulder. She jumped, and I whispered, “Thanks,” before I pulled my hand out. We had made it. We were alive and together. And we had a hostage.

“Damn it all back to the Turn!” Jenks swore.

Nick turned to look at us, and I nudged Jenks's foot. He was messing about in his bag and he looked ticked. “What is it, Jenks?” I breathed as we jostled along, tired, so tired.

“I lost my fudge!” he swore. “That woman took my fudge!”

T
he hamburger place was busy with kids, moms, and teenagers cutting loose after school, telling me more clearly than a page of demographics that the resident population was decidedly slanted to human. I slumped deeper into the molded plastic, my lips curling when I found the table sticky from someone's pop. Brett snickered, and I made a face at him. The defiant Were was sitting across from me, handcuffed with his own steel to the table support bolted to the floor. Pride had him hiding the fact, and no one was paying us any mind. Just two people having coffee. 'Least we would be when Jenks got back with the drinks.

The Brimstone had worn off somewhere between shaking the Weres and Ivy and Nick dropping us off here, and fatigue was seeping into me like water through mud. Ivy was sure that they knew how to track Brett's location from an active phone, and the two of them were leading the Weres on a wild goose chase until we figured out what to do with him.

That we had a hostage had really put a crimp in my already stellar day. Jenks, Ivy, and I had already gone round about it. Nick listened wide-eyed as Jenks adamantly protested that we should keep him to kill in cold blood as a warning if the Weres so much as sniffed too close to us. The scary thing was, Jenks was ready to carry it out.

This was the shocking, ruthless side to Jenks that was seldom seen and easy to miss behind his lighthearted mien—the part of him that kept his family fed and their heads
underground when the snow flew. Taking Brett hostage had been as natural as breathing to him, and I truly believed he'd kill the Were with just as much thought. Though carefree and one of the best friends I'd ever had, Jenks was a cell phone, computer-savvy savage, living without law and holding to his own morals alone. I thanked God I fit in there as being important to him.

It was the first time Jenks and I had disagreed on how to handle a run. Hell, it was the first time he'd had an opinion. I think taking Brett hostage had triggered something in his pixy makeup. I was sure the argument wasn't over yet, but I did
not
want a hostage.

But I hadn't wanted Ivy to drop us off at a burger joint either,
I thought sourly, hunching deeper into Jenks's aviator jacket, which he was letting me wear. I had wanted to go to Squirrel's End, where I could have a beer and quietly shake in the corner. The patrons there would have only snickered and poked each other at seeing the handcuffs. Ivy nixed it, though, pulling Nick's truck into Burger-rama saying that Squirrel's End smelled like us, and only the sanitation practices of a fast food place would hide that we'd been there and stop the trail cold.

Whatever. I was bone-tired, aching from our street brawl, and thirsty enough to down a two-liter bottle of Coke by myself. And why in hell hadn't I at least
brought
my pain amulet? It had been stupid going out like this. God help me, but if the Weres didn't kill me, I could probably do it myself.

Brett and I both jumped at the high-pitched shriek from the kid at the top of the slide behind him, and our eyes met briefly. The primary-colored play equipment was literally crawling with screaming, runny-nosed kids in open winter coats, throwing the tops that came with the mini-meals this week at each other.

My pulse slowed, and as Jenks charmed the ladies behind the counter into flustered goo, I tried to look cool and professional among the plastic toys and paper hats. It wasn't
going to happen, so I tried for dangerous. I think I managed cranky when several children went wide-eyed and silent after passing my table. My hand lifted to hide the scrape on my face I got hitting the pavement, and I tried again to brush my jeans free of the dirt from the alley. Maybe I looked worse than I thought.

Brett looked great, having sat most of the scuffle out. The clean smell of woodsy aftershave came from him, and the light glinted on the silver of his short hair. Though small, he looked like he could lope from there to the state line without stopping—apart from the cuffs.

I smelled the hot meadowy scent of Jenks before I saw him, and I straightened, sliding down to make room. Jenks set the cardboard tray with two large coffees and a weenie-sized cup of steaming water that was an odd shade of pink onto the table.
Herbal tea?
I thought, claiming a coffee. Since when did Jenks like herbal tea?

I looked up from trying to pry the lid off my cup when Jenks pulled it out from my fingers. “Hey!” I said, and he put the lame cup of pink water in front of me. “I don't want tea,” I said indignantly. “I want coffee.”

“Diuretic.” Jenks sat beside Brett. “It will do more harm than good. Drink your decaf tea.”

Remembering our argument and thinking this was his way of getting back at me, my eyes narrowed. “I almost died back there,” I said irately. “If I want a damn coffee, I'm going to have a damn coffee.” Daring him to protest, I took my coffee with a huff.

Brett watched the exchange with interest. Eyebrows high, he reached for the second coffee, and Jenks intercepted his reach. The Were hesitated, then settled into his plastic seat with nothing. “What are you going to do with me, ma'am?” he said, the light twang in his voice obvious among the midwestern accents around us.

How in hell should I know?
“Oh, I've got big plans for you,” I lied, surprised at the ma'am. “Jenks wants to string you up as an object lesson. I'm halfway to letting him have his
wish.” I leaned back, tired. “It works great when he murders garden fairies.”

Brett glanced warily at Jenks—who was nodding zealously—and I felt a weary lassitude slip over me. Crap. Why did the Brimstone pick now to wear off? A chill ran through me, tight on the heels of the idle thought that taking it to get through this week might not be a bad idea.

The Were's eyes traveled over me, hesitating at my torn turtleneck before rising to my face. From there, they never moved, but his focus kept shifting as he monitored the room by the sounds behind him. It gave me the creeps.

I sent my eyebrows up—wishing yet again that I could do the one eyebrow thing—casually tearing three packets of sugar open at once and dumping them in not because I liked it but because the coffee smelled that old. “I know where it is,” I said lightly.

Just the fact that Brett didn't move said volumes. Jenks scowled, clearly not liking what I was doing, but I didn't want a hostage. I wanted to send Brett back with a message that would buy me some time and space. Now that the island Weres knew we were still in Mackinaw, they would keep looking until they found us. That we had Brett for a hostage wouldn't stop them—he had screwed up royally, and unlike the fairies that Jenks was used to dealing with, I think the Weres would just as soon see him dead—but maybe a show of goodwill and a big fat lie would buy us time enough to get my con in place.

I hoped.

“Sparagmos told you where it is,” Brett said, his disbelief obvious.

“Of course he did,” Jenks said, breaking his silence. “We've got it, and you don't.”

Na, na, na, na-a-a-a, na
. “I can put my hands on it,” I amended, nudging Jenks's foot.
Shut up, Jenks
. I liked him better quiet. This was the last time we took a hostage.

Brett looked relaxed even though his one hand was cuffed under the table. Behind him, kids were fighting, hurting my
ears. “Give it to me,” he said. “I'll take it to Mr. Vincent and convince him to leave you alone.”

Jenks jerked into motion, reaching for Brett. The Were blocked it. Someone hit a coffee and it spilled. Gasping, I stood when it threatened to run into my lap. “Damn it, Jenks!” I swore, pulling every eye to us. “What in hell are you doing?”

The restaurant was abruptly silent. A unified, “Ooooh,” rose from the ball pit, and I flushed. Clear in the silence, the person coming over the loudspeaker wanted to know if he could substitute bottled water for the pop. I winced apologetically to the offended mothers speaking in hushed voices to their soccer-mom friends. “Sorry,” I muttered. I sat down, and the level of noise resumed.
Crap. That had been my coffee
.

“You are in no position to be making deals or demands,” Jenks said nastily as people turned away. “And if you or your mange-ridden curs touch her, you'll find everyone you care about dead one morning.”

Brett's face went red.

“Just stop it,” I griped, thinking this wasn't the way to arrange a cease-fire. But it told me I was right that Brett had to placate Walter with something to ease his return into the pack. Brett was in trouble; it wasn't only Jenks who wanted to kill him.

The small man's expression went sour and he settled back, clearly a lot more cautious now that he knew how fast Jenks could move. Heck, it impressed me.

“Look,” I said, wedging a wad of napkins out of the dispenser and mopping up my coffee. I couldn't help but wonder if Jenks had done it intentionally. “All I want is Nick free from your reprisals. You can take Walter the stinking statue as far as I'm concerned.”

Brett's dark eyes went suspicious. “You still expect me to believe you aren't working for someone and that you risked your life for…for him?”

My lips curled into a sour smile. “Don't call me stupid,” I warned him. Jenks pushed the tea at me, and I ignored it.
“I need a day to get the statue here,” I lied. “A day to get it here and tie a pretty ribbon around it for you.”

The tiny clink of his cuffs made Brett's eyes twitch. “You're going to give it to me,” he said flatly.

I wrapped my fingers around my foam cup to hide their trembling. “Yup. And it was your idea too.”

Jenks looked at me in bewilderment, and I smiled. “I want you to back off. All of you,” I added, squeezing the tea bag to make a thin rivulet of red drain into the cup. I was thirsty, and if I made for that second coffee, Jenks would probably spill it too. “I don't need to leave town to get it. I can have it here by sunset tomorrow. Watch us if you want, but one sniff I think is too close and the exchange is off and we are gone.” I leaned over my tea. “Jenks and I cleaned your clocks with a pipe and some stupid sleepy-time charms. You want to risk finding out what we're really capable of when all you have to do is wait a lousy thirty-six hours?”

“An exchange?” Brett mocked, and Jenks made an odd rumble, leaving me wondering if pixies could growl. “Seems to me like it's more of a payment for getting us to leave you alone.”

In a smooth, unhurried motion, Jenks reached out and slapped him. “Seems to me you should pull the brains out of your ass.”

“Jenks!” I exclaimed, glancing over the fishbowl of a restaurant to see if anyone saw him.

“He's a dead wolf!” Jenks protested, gesturing sharply. “I could slice him open and leave him for the maggots, and
he
thinks he has some leverage.”

My eyes narrowed. “But we aren't going to do that. Stop hitting him.”

“It's what they did to Nick,” he offered, starting our argument anew. “Why are you giving him any consideration beyond the chunk of meat that he turned himself into by letting us take him hostage?”

Under the table my knees were shaking. “Because that's
how we work when we're five feet tall, unless we're ignorant animals playing in the woods.”

Jenks slumped back with his coffee to look sullen.

Brett's teeth were clenched at my unflattering comparison to his pack. Remembering what they had done to Nick, it was hard not to let Jenks have his way. Frustrated, I tried to hide my shaking fingers by taking a sip of my tart tea while Jenks continued to dump every last sugar packet into his coffee. I could scent his anger over the odor of french fries and bad coffee, like burnt acorns.

“I am going to give Walter the statue you couldn't retrieve through a week of torture,” I said. “In return, you are going to convince Walter to give me Nick's life and not hold me responsible for Pam's death. You will leave
all
of us alone and not seek any retaliation. Ever.” My eyebrows rose. “You do, and I'll come right back up here and take it back.”

Brett's faint wrinkles bunched. “Why should I do that?” he asked.

“Because it was your idea,” I said lightly. “And it's the only thing that's going to keep you alive. As soon as my ride gets here, I'm outta here.” I took a slow breath, praying I wasn't making a mistake. “I'm going to call Walter and tell him where you are and congratulate him on having such a wonderful second in command who convinced me to give you the statue. There will be someone watching you. If Walter accepts my terms, he takes you and walks away. If not, he can leave you cuffed to the table, and you become Jenks's responsibility.”

Jenks straightened and started to grin.

“The way I figure it,” I said, looking through the huge plate-glass windows at nothing, “your alpha is one pissed puppy at you for having not only letting us slip through your fingers, but then being careless enough to get taken and putting him in this awkward position.”

I leaned close enough that my words were a palpable sensation of my will against his face. “If you can't convince him that we're enough of a threat that he should accept my terms
and back off for thirty-six hours
and
that because of your stellar negotiating skills that I will give it to
you and you alone,
he will have no reason to keep your hide attached to your soul. He's going to kill you unless you can redeem yourself. Not right away, but he'll do it. A slow slide in the hierarchy, giving everyone a shot at you on your way down. So I think a thank-you to me is in order for giving you a surefire way back into his good graces.”

Brett's brown eyes were empty, again telling me he was in big trouble. “I suggest,” I said, seeing Ivy and Nick pull up in the van, “that you work really hard to get Walter to see things my way. Unless you give him the focus, you'll be an ongoing reminder of
his
mistake of sending you against a superior foe without the proper understanding of what you were facing. We might look like incompetent flakes, but we've survived demons.” Shaking inside, I leaned away. “I'm giving you a chance to save your skin. Take it.”