Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (46 page)

he get? Especially since he‘d watched her and her spy boss chatting away a minute ago. His

mouth twisted bitterly. ―Ms. Waverly. Now, why am I not surprised to see you here?‖

Her flinch was as satisfying as it was painful.

After an impassive look around, Calum left to search the house. And probably to get away

from Vicki.

Alec glanced at the corner where a tied-up man lay on the carpet. ―That‘s Vidal?‖

Vicki nodded, mouth pressed firmly into a line. Alec had traced his finger over those lips…

He winced away from the memory.

As he wandered around the room, he kept a wary eye on Vicki and the other man he wanted

to kill. "Now what would a boss of spies be called?‖

―The handler,‖ the bastard said in a mild, somewhat snooty voice. Medium-height, lean like

someone who naturally burns more than they eat, his expression seemed almost indifferent, but

those clear blue eyes saw everything.

Over the smell of burned rubber, Alec caught the scent of distress from him—but no fear

sweat. Too dumb to know his danger? Doubtful.

Calum came back in. ―Nothing. What‘s in here?‖

―Desk is empty. There‘s DVD and CD holders with no contents. Even the computer is

gutted,‖ Alec said. He knelt in front of the fireplace and stirred the contents with the poker.

Flakey ashes from paper, melted plastic stubs, a shriveled green plastic board, and a metal box—

probably from the computer also. He nodded at Calum, the beginnings of hope rising inside him.

Calum‘s eyes narrowed. He turned to Vicki, and power trickled through his voice. ―Victoria,

where is the information Vidal collected?‖

She stiffened and shook her head…but answered, ―I burned it.‖

―What happened to the information you were supposed to get your boss?‖ Calum asked

mildly, although Alec could see the tension in his frame.

A flash of anger lit her face. ―You jump to conclusions too fucking quickly. I‘d already

turned him down.‖

Calum walked over to the handler. ―Had she?‖

The bastard didn‘t agree or disagree. It was like looking at a statue.

They were all across the room, talking. In the corner, out of sight behind the desk, Vidal

shredded the last rope with the glass from the shattered windows. His hands had slickened with

his own blood, but he was free.

The creatures could attack quickly; he knew that. Their talk covered the sound of his

crawling and then he had it—the pistol under one of the chairs, right where the fucking agent had

knocked it out of his grip. Still behind the desk, he straightened. ―Don‘t move, assholes. Hands

in the air.‖

They jerked around, faces turning hard when they saw the pistol. As they raised their hands,

he studied his haul. One man, naked, kneeling by the fire, then the bitch Morgan a couple of feet

away. The cold-faced CIA agent who‘d managed to take out his guards. Another unclothed

stranger stood on the far side of the chair.

The government man spoke, his voice quiet. ―Vidal, I suggest—‖

―Shut up!‖ Vidal lined the pistol up with the agent‘s forehead, feeling his hand begin to

shake. Fucking disease. But he had the cure, now didn‘t he? He smiled at the two unclothed men.

―Swane described you. You‘re the cop and the daddy.‖

The dark one gazed back, pupils completely black, and growled.

A chill ran up Vidal‘s spine at the murderous anger radiating from him…from them both.

He shifted his weight and ignored the creeping of fear.

―What happened to Swane?‖ Vidal asked, then shook his head. Didn‘t really matter. If the

werecats were here, the bastard must have got himself caught—and spilled his guts.

He needed to get the hell out of here before more CIA or creatures showed up. He had only

one cage though. It could hold two animals—but he wanted to keep the woman.

Vidal aimed the gun at the one by the fireplace. ―I don‘t need you.‖ He pulled the trigger.

Calum saw the man point the pistol at Alec. No! He shifted and sprang as the pistol snapped.

He heard the gut-wrenching sound of a bullet hitting flesh and knew despair. On his knees, Alec

couldn‘t have moved fast enough to dodge.

He hit Vidal from the side, knocking him down. The human tried to scramble away, but fury

raging, Calum bit through his spine. With barely a shudder, the human died.

Lachlan was avenged. And Alec.

Calum shifted to human and turned, unsure if he could bear the sight of his brawd‘s lifeless

body. But—

Alec was alive. Alive! It was Victoria, in panther form, who lay on the floor, incongruously still in her black clothing. The stretch top had a hole in it, and blood already pooled on the floor.

Kneeling, Alec ran a hand down her fur. ―Damn, Vicki,‖ he said hoarsely, ―trawsfur back so

I can get a bandage on that.‖

A blur, and she returned to human. She merely grimaced at her shoulder, but when she saw

her handler‘s shock at her transformation, her face crumpled for a second.

His heart hammering, Calum went into the bathroom and grabbed a clean towel. He tossed it

to Alec. ―I thought he‘d killed you, brawd,‖ he managed to say.

―Me too. Vixen took—‖ Jaws set hard, Alec ripped the cloth into a make-shift dressing for

Victoria‘s shoulder.

―It‘s a time-honored tradition—take a bullet for your buddy. You know I like my traditions.‖

She shrugged and winced.

―How bad does it hurt?‖ Alec asked in a tight voice.

―Pain is weakness leaving the body,‖ she said lightly.

―You were a Marine? I should have known.‖ He put pressure on the hole, scowled at her

back. ―It went through. Change into cat form soon—that‘ll help.‖

Calum squeezed Alec‘s shoulder just to feel his warm skin, know he was alive. Then he

touched Victoria‘s cheek. ―Thank you.‖

She nodded, her lips curved up in a wry grin. ―Next time, consider using the door. Glass and

tied-up men don‘t mix well.‖

―We will keep that in mind.‖

―Is Vidal dead?‖ she asked, her voice disconcertingly level, obviously familiar with violent

death.

He should have considered the implications of that before. With an effort, Calum shoved his

feelings to one side and reached for clarity. The jolt of seeing Victoria had been followed by too

many others, and he could not afford to lose control...or his judgment. ―He‘s dead. As is Swane.

Irma will be safe, and Lachlan can rest easy in his grave.‖

Alec rubbed his face, sighed, and then asked, ―What do the guards outside know?‖

―They‘re Vidal‘s thugs. And they didn‘t see anything,‖ she answered. ―You‘re safe. There‘s

nobody left who—‖

Calum glanced at the handler. ―Just one.‖

Victoria stiffened. ―Calum. No.‖

He studied her for a moment. She‘d burned the information, saved Alec‘s life. Hope tried to

ease past his barriers as he looked at her. She‘d used all those military skills to help the Daonain

today. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn‘t have to pay the penalty. His voice soft, he said,

―Victoria, return to Cold Creek. We‘ll talk. Perhaps—‖

She interrupted, ―What are you planning to do to him?‖

―He cannot retain his knowledge of us.‖

Her appalled expression grew. She looked over at Alec. ―You said it worked good on one-

time spottings. More than that, and you destroy big chunks of their memory. You can‘t do that to

him.‖

―Vicki, there‘s no choice.‖ Alec held his hands out. ―He‘s with the government. They‘ll try

to exterminate us.‖

Her face turned cold. ―No. It‘s not a risk I‘ll allow.‖

Calum felt the tiny splinter of hope die.

―Vicki,‖ Alec said softly, ―don‘t. You can‘t win against both of us.‖

She slid a pistol out of the small black bag beside her.

Calum looked at her easy grip, the tilt of the automatic, and sighed. One more skill she

possessed. ―I do not think you will kill us.‖

Her finger tightened on the trigger, loosened. ―Probably not.‖ The pistol dipped lower,

pointed directly at Alec. ―But if you figure it‘s okay to damage Wells‘ mind, then I guess it‘s

okay to blow out Alec‘s knee. It‘d cripple him for life, Calum. There‘d be no bone left there to

heal.‖

Calum tilted his head in acquiescence, his heart turning to ash inside his chest.

She stepped backwards. ―Bring your car to the front, Wells.‖

Silent as a cat, the man slipped out the door. Too soon, the hum of an engine came from

outside the house.

Calum caught her gaze. ―You are a shifter, Victoria. We‘re your people.‖ Please hear me.

Don‟t do this to us all. ―If you leave with him, I will have to call for your death. Is this truly what you want?‖

She started to speak, then shook her head. As she backed toward the door, tears filled her

eyes.

But the pistol never wavered.

* * *

Daylight was breaking when Vic finally decided she‘d driven far enough. She was high in

the mountains, almost to the Canadian border, and miles down a tiny fire road. With a sigh, she

shut the engine off and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She‘d cried enough, cursed

enough…grieved enough.

After leaving the farmhouse, she‘d dropped Wells off in a convenient town. When she told

him she was keeping his car, he‘d shrugged and called it a fair trade for his life. He‘d said, as if

he‘d just discovered the fact, ―You really are a werelion.‖

Almost able to smile, she‘d given him Lachlan‘s words, hearing again the young voice

saying, ‗ Some people call us Daonain or shifters. Me, I prefer werecats.‟

Then Wells had asked her what she‘d do. His open concern felt…odd. Nice.

She slid out of the car and heard the engine ping as it cooled. She‘d told him she‘d be all

right. Maybe, eventually, that wouldn‘t be a lie. She‘d made errors over the past months, stupid

mistakes due to her background, her fears. People had been hurt because of her poor decisions.

She‘d been hurt.

Breathing in the cold, clean air, she stripped, locked her clothes in the trunk, and gave

herself a good scratch. She itched all over—apparently Alec hadn‘t bullshitted about the effects

of being surrounded by metal. After pulling off her bandages, she checked the bullet hole. The

bleeding had not only stopped, but the wound looked a couple of days old. Shifters healed fast.

Good.

Time to move on. She‘d fixed everything she could. Now she had to confront her own fears

and decide what came next.

Through the long night‘s drive, she had remembered what Calum had said in the cave of the

hot-springs, ‗ The silence of the mountains serves me well when I am troubled.‘ Now, tilting her head back, she looked upward where the rising sun lit the snow-topped peaks of the huge

mountain range.

And she shifted.

Calum paced around the shelves, unable to settle. At the front of the bookstore, Thorson sat

at his desk, listening to Alec. With a jolt of pain, Calum saw how the newest grief had aged the

old man. Last week, when he‘d heard about Victoria‘s betrayal from Angie, Thorson had

disappeared into the mountains.

He‘d only returned today.

Calum paced back to the counter as Alec related the events at Vidal‘s farmhouse. ―...after

Vicki and Wells got away, we burned the building.‖

Thorson leaned back in his chair with a disbelieving expression. ―You two couldn‘t catch a

car on a dirt road?‖

―We tried,‖ Calum said. ―Almost caught up, and then she threw something out the window.

What did you call it, Alec?‖

―A flash-bang. Good name for it.‖

Thorson snorted out a laugh. ―I‘ve read about them. Blinding light, deafening noise?‖

―Precisely.‖ Calum rubbed his ears, the memory still painful. ―In cat form and at night, it‘s

quite intense. By the time we could see again, they were gone.‖

―She‘s a cool cookie,‖ Thorson said.

Alec slammed a fist on the counter as his temper, so long under control, ignited like the

bloody flash-bang. ―Damn you, Thorson, she‘s not a cool anything. She betrayed us. And that

spymaster she saved will do everything in his power to hand us over to the government. She

chose him over us.‖

Calum understood his reaction. Seeing Victoria choose the enemy had knotted his guts like a

meal of rotting carrion. And yet…

Thorson turned his head away, his face tight.

Calum leaned against the counter wearily. Too many sleepless nights. He‘d tried to get over

the pain of her loss, to see past his anger. The clan waited for him to declare Victoria‘s life

forfeit, and he…couldn‘t. Something bothered him, kept him from taking that step, and he

couldn‘t tell whether his emotions were swaying him or if he‘d missed an essential fact. ―If you

don‘t mind, Joe, I would like to go through this together. I am not seeing clearly, I fear.‖

Thorson‘s face tightened, increasing Calum‘s guilt, and then he nodded. ―All right. Start

with when she first appeared. With my Lachlan.‖

―Swane and Vidal had captured him,‖ Alec said. His hands were still clenched, but he was

making the effort.

Calum moved up beside him, shoulder rubbing shoulder, and felt his brother‘s anger

diminish. ―Did she truly assist in Lachlan‘s escape or fake it to gain her entry with us?‖

Thorson shook his head. ―Lachlan Gifted her. The boy had the ability to read people. He

wouldn‘t have made a mistake, and an enemy wouldn‘t have stood still for the ritual. Truth,

Cosantir. It was a true Gifting.‖

Thorson would not have been fooled. ―Yes.‖

―Got herself hired into the bar to collect information. Can‘t get around that,‖ Alec said.