Jocelynn Drake - [Asylum Tales 02] (18 page)

“Trixie, the elves are known to be the best at working glamour and that’s what’s hiding the Towers. It makes sense. Without being a trained witch or warlock, elves are among the few races that could see through the glamour.”

She drew close to me, rising up on tiptoes so she could glare at me in the eye. “How can you defend them?”

“It’s logical,” I snapped. “Logical and true.”

Trixie gasped, jerking away from me as if I’d hit her. She stared at me through narrowed eyes before they widened with an idea. “You know,” she whispered. “You know who found the Towers!”

“I have a strong idea, yes, and he’s an elf. Technically, a dark elf, but the Ivory Towers don’t see much difference between the Summer Court, Winter Court, and the Svartálfar. If they don’t have their hands on the actual culprit, then they’re going to start wiping out elves until they’re all gone so they don’t have to worry about this problem again.”

“What are you going to do?” Her tone had softened as the anger seemed to seep out of her.

My shoulders slumped and I shoved one hand through my hair. “Find him. Either kill him or hand him over to the Towers in hopes of preventing anyone else from finding out what he knows.”

“What?” She shook her head as she grabbed my arm. “You can’t do that. You have to let him tell others. Tell the world leaders. Let everyone know where the Towers are.”

“And then what?” I shouted, losing my grip on my temper as fear burned up the last of my restraint. “Let the world march on the Towers? Send their armies and bombs rushing toward the Towers? The only thing that will happen is that they will fail. All the soldiers will die and not a Tower will be touched by a bomb. And when the dust settles, the warlocks and the witches will come out of the Towers and then the real carnage will begin. The war that follows will put the Great War to shame.”

Trixie shook her head in denial. She released my arm but I grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. “Do you know how many it took to destroy Indianapolis?”

“Gage . . .” she started in a strangled voice, but I didn’t let her off the hook. I couldn’t let her hold on to this thought of taking on the Towers with force.

“I know the spell. Not well enough to do it myself, but I know it. It would have taken no more than six warlocks and witches to destroy the city. Six! There are hundreds of witches and warlocks around the world. Do you think the armies of the world honestly stand a chance? Hell, the Towers wouldn’t have allowed the countries to build them if they thought the countries could win in a fight against them.”

Tears slipped down her face and she stopped trying to pull free of my grasp. “Then what are we supposed to do? We can’t continue like this.”

“I know,” I whispered, releasing her wrist. She stepped back and I sighed. “Things need to change, but this way, taking on the Towers with force, isn’t the way. It will only make things worse. If I thought we had a chance, I would have blasted the locations of all the Towers out to the world years ago.”

“You know?”

I nodded. “I don’t think it occurred to any of them until recently that I might tell someone. They knew I didn’t like them, but I don’t think they thought I was capable of betrayal like that. They don’t think one of their own kind would do such a thing, and despite my separation, they still consider me one of them.”

“Will they hunt you now?”

“Some.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans to keep from reaching for her. “They’ll keep coming until I give them a reason to stop.”

“And that’s handing over the elf to the Ivory Towers?”

Half of my mouth quirked in a smile. “Try not to feel too much sympathy for him. He’s a real asshole and I think the world would be better off without him around.” My half smile disappeared as she frowned. “I’m sorry. I want change as badly as you. Maybe even more so, but this way will only get millions of people killed and we’ll end up in a worse place than we are in now.”

“Then how do things ever change?”

“From within. It’s slow and dangerous, but the fighting is unlikely to spread into the rest of the world. I know you can’t tell, but it’s happening. Things are changing in the Towers. It will get better. Maybe not in our lifetimes, but it will get better if they keep pressing forward.”

Trixie looked up at me. A thin, fragile smile drifted ghostlike across her lips. “Things must be changing. You’re here.”

“Yes, and I’m not the only one. It will get better.” I extended my right hand to her, holding my breath as I waited to see if she’d take it. I understood her need to strike back at the Towers and I held a great key that would help the world. I prayed that she understood that revealing the Tower locations to the world only led to death and destruction, not freedom.

Slowly, Trixie stepped closer and placed her hand in mine, allowing me to pull her into my arms. “I don’t like it and my instincts say that the information should be shared, but I understand. So many of the people I knew when I was a child are dead as a result of the Great War. I can’t go through that again. Maybe I’m a coward,” she said against my shoulder.

“No. You’re trying to fight smarter.”

In the distance, I could hear the whine of police sirens drawing closer to the park. The truck driver must have called in the cops and it was time for us to get going. Pressing a kiss to Trixie’s temple, I ushered her over to her car. As I placed her in the passenger seat, I took the keys and jumped behind the wheel. I was afraid that I’d have to work a little glamour of my own to get by the cops, and oddly enough it was more easily done while driving the car.

“So what now?” she asked on a sigh of relief as we jumped on the expressway without being stopped.

I reached over and tapped the cover of the white book that lay forgotten in her lap. “You need to read through that and make some notes for me. I need to know what changed with the elves before they started having problems. Diet? Magic? Sexual positions?”

Trixie gave a little snort. “I doubt Arianna had such things written down, but I’ll make a note,” she said sarcastically. She sighed again and I looked over to find her staring at the book she was now holding. “I honestly forgot about this. It all seems so . . . unimportant now, you know? Considering the mess with the Towers.”

“This is important to me,” I said firmly. “The Towers thing is fixable and so is this. It won’t be easy, but we’ll fix it.”

“Thanks, Gage.”

“No problem.” I hit the turn signal and glanced in the mirrors before sliding over into the left lane. Afternoon traffic was light, and I was eager to get Trixie safely tucked away. “I thought of something else you could look into for me.”

“What?”

“Have the elves ever consulted the Hearth Women?”

Trixie turned in her seat to look at me. “No, but then I thought they were just midwives and humans were their only clients.”

I smiled. “You’re right in that humans are usually their only clients, but a few other races trickle in here and there. They have skills beyond being midwives. Centuries ago, the Hearth Women were called the Handmaidens of Hera. Hera may have been the goddess of marriage, but she was often seen as a protector of the home, hearth, and childbirth. Could you ask them their opinion and advice?”

“Sure. If you think it will help.”

“Thanks,” I said. I had a feeling that they would be much more helpful to Trixie than to me, because much like their patron goddess, the Hearth Women didn’t much care for men. “Oh, and a word of advice: don’t eat or drink anything they offer. Also, don’t let them touch you if you can help it. Be polite, but also try to keep a distance.”

“Why? Are they dangerous?”

“Only if you don’t want to find yourself extremely fertile,” I grumbled under my breath. “I think we’ve got enough to handle right now and don’t need to add to it with an unexpected bundle of joy.”

Trixie sank a little lower in her seat as she stared out at the winding road as we got closer to my apartment. “Definitely.”

For now, I thought it was enough that I had told Trixie that I loved her. She knew I was doing everything within my power to protect her from the Towers and help fix her problem with the Summer Court. We had never talked about the future and we never uttered the word
kids
beyond commenting on mixing up a potion to protect against conceiving any. When the world wasn’t on the brink of exploding around us, our lives were good and neither of us was ready to take it a step further. At least, I didn’t think so.

14

A QUICK STOP
at my apartment allowed me to wash off some of the dirt, sweat, and blood. I dug up an old T-shirt and changed into it while Trixie went to speak to the Hearth Women. I wasn’t fond of leaving her alone, but I knew she’d get more out of them if I wasn’t hovering close by.

Somewhat clean again, I jumped into my battered SUV, ready to head back toward Asylum. I looked up after shoving my key into the ignition and paused as my eyes caught on a trio of teenagers as they darted across the parking lot. One hesitated at the edge of a building and looked back at me with cold eyes before disappearing from sight with his companions. The trio reminded me of the Tower runaways that were loose in Low Town, struggling to stay hidden from the Towers and survive. Were they sticking together? Were they safe? Were they hurt? I didn’t know, but it was too dangerous to go looking for them. They were likely better off without my help.

With a groan, I turned the key, bringing the car to life with a guttural growl of the engine. I was up to my eyeballs in elf problems, Tower problems, and family problems. I didn’t have much hope of protecting five runaways. Besides, they had each other. They had to be in better shape than I was when I left the Towers nearly ten years ago.
God, I hoped they were in better shape
 . . .

Shoving that errant thought aside, I drove to the Strausse Haus Restaurant and Bier Garden near Asylum. It was the first place I had met Reave and I figured that it was the best place to start looking for the Svartálfar. I was hoping that he was still in town if he was planning to pass along the rest of the information to Robert. After that, I was sure the little fucker would be next to impossible to locate. He had to know that the Towers were searching for him and would be keeping his head down until he had gotten his payment. Though how he ever expected to live in peace after this was beyond my comprehension.

It was shortly after three when I arrived at the restaurant and their lunch rush was winding down.

The seating hostess smiled at me and picked up a menu as I walked in. “Hey, Gage. It’s been a while since you last stopped in.”

I smiled at her before continuing to scan the restaurant for my target. I had stopped going to the Strausse Haus when I discovered that it was one of Reave’s favorite haunts. It was bad enough that Bronx and I were forced to work for him; I didn’t want to eat somewhere that I might run into him as well.

“Is it just you for lunch?” she continued, trying to catch my attention.

“I’m not staying. I’m looking for someone,” I said, my gaze tripping over the faces I could see lining the bar just past the entrance.

“You know, I heard you were dating that Trixie person who works for you,” the hostess said, dragging my eyes back to her. “I should have known you’d go for someone like that.”

I chuckled, my smile stretching into something genuine for the first time. Lynnette was pretty in an exotic, dangerous sort of way, with almond-shaped brown eyes that she lined with black makeup, and dark brown hair. She had those big pouty lips that held all kinds of dirty promises. It was the kind of mouth that my friend Parker referred to as DSL—dick-sucking lips. But then, Parker was an incubus and I was sure that he was well acquainted with mouths like that. My thoughts stopped there, though. Lynnette was a siren and sirens were their own basket of troubles. Not to mention I was quite happy with Trixie.

“I’d watch it, Lynn. I’d hate for Trixie to find out that you’ve been saying bad things about her.”

Lynnette made a noise in the back of her throat as she rolled her eyes at me. “Like I’m scared of her.”

My grin never wavered. “And here I always thought you were smarter than that.” Her lovely mouth popped open on a gasp, her tanned cheeks flushing red in her anger. I continued before she could unleash whatever tirade was forming in her brain. “Have you seen Reave?”

The color immediately drained from her face and her mouth snapped shut with an audible click of her teeth. “Mr. Roundtree hasn’t been in recently,” she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“When did you last see Mr. Roundtree?” I demanded, unable to keep the sneer out of my tone.

“It—it’s been a while. I don’t remember.” She refused to look up at me, her eyes locked on the menu tightly clenched in her hands.

“Then I guess I’ll have a look around.”

As I started to walk away, Lynnette grabbed my arm in a tight grip. “Don’t do this. You don’t want to mess with him, Gage,” she urged with wide eyes as she struggled to hold me back at the entrance to the restaurant. “He’s dangerous.”

Lynnette might have been aware of who Reave was, but she didn’t appear to know that I was now involved with the bastard. Even better, she didn’t know what I was. Reave might have used the restaurant as a headquarters. Hell, he might have owned the joint, but at least Lynnette had been kept out of his business ventures. I didn’t know Lynnette very well, had only spoken to her a handful of times when I had come into the Strausse Haus or run into her at any of the local bars, but she seemed like a nice person. She needed to keep her distance from the dark elf.

I gently squeezed her hand before prying it loose from my arm. “I know what I’m doing.”

Frowning, she pulled her hand from mine and stepped back, returning to her place behind the hostess booth. She seemed to shrink inside of herself, her shoulders slumped and pulled in as if to protect herself from Reave and maybe even from her own dark thoughts. The fear in her eyes was yet another reason that this area needed to be free of Reave.

With a mental shove, I pushed those worries down as I entered the main dining area of the restaurant. Lunchtime was never a particularly busy time for the Strausse Haus, as there weren’t many businesses close by that would bring in patrons. For the bulk of the places in the immediate area, business came at dinner and later when people stopped by to drink and unwind. Looking around the restaurant, I found fewer than a dozen of the tables and booths containing guests, while there were only three people seated at the bar, nursing drinks.

I wound my way toward the back of the restaurant, where the light was a little dimmer and there was only one occupied table. My eyes briefly fell on the semicircular booth where I had first met Reave, but it was empty. I had a feeling that the booth was kept vacant, available only to Reave.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something large rise from the one occupied booth near me. Jerking around, I swallowed a curse as the tension immediately eased from my frame when my eyes fell on Freddie “the Moose” Bukowski. He worked as muscle for Reave, and wasn’t the brightest guy I’d ever met. He didn’t seem the type to hurt a fly, but somehow he had gotten sucked into Reave’s employment.

“Hi, Gage! It’s good to see ya,” Freddie said with a fast and eager grin. The mountain of a man reminded me of an overgrown St. Bernard puppy who was convinced that he was a lapdog. He leaned a little closer. “It’s good to see you not looking so beat up,” he added in a stage whisper that most of the restaurant could hear. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stay mad at Freddie.

“Good to see you too, Freddie,” I said, unable to stop my smile as I extended my hand to the man. It was immediately engulfed in his large paw and he pumped it vigorously in his excitement, threatening to dislocate my arm.

“How you been doin’? I’ve been meaning to stop down to see you, but Mr. Reave has been keepin’ me busy.”

“Been better,” I muttered, following Freddie back to his table. As the large man returned to his seat in the booth, I got a look at the men he was sitting with, bringing a fresh grin to my face. One man scowled at me while the other seated next to him carefully kept his eyes on his plate. “Jack! It’s been a dog’s age since I last saw you,” I exclaimed louder than necessary.

His companion snorted as he tried to hold in his laughter, which quickly changed to coughing as he reached for his mug of beer. Jack glared at his pack mate for a second before turning his black look on me.

“Not long enough,” he growled. I could imagine he felt that way. A couple months back, I had wandered through his pack’s territory and refused to pay a toll. Jack attempted to jump me, and I turned him into a Chihuahua. It didn’t hurt him, but he was stuck like that until the next full moon when his werewolf side permitted him to shift. If he’d quit nursing his bruised ego, he’d realize that I’d let him off easy. Any other warlock would have killed him and his entire pack on the spot.

I slid into the booth next to Freddie. Jack opened his mouth as if he wanted to stop me, but gave up with a grunt as he dug back into his plate. In the center of the table there were bowls filled with mashed potatoes, sauerkraut, and large sausages along with a large pitcher of beer.

“I’m surprised that your pack hasn’t stopped by for some new ink,” I said, watching the men refill their plates. “When we first met, it didn’t look like your pack had its own tag.”

Jack sneered at me. “What do we need a tag for? My pack is the only one in Low Town.”

I shrugged, slouching in the booth. “You’re the only werewolf pack in Low Town, but you’re not the only shifters. I thought you’d want a little something to proudly proclaim that you and your members are of the local wolf pack. Anyway, you’d need it if you ever traveled into another’s territory.”

Jack made some noncommittal noise, not looking up at me, but the other werewolf was watching me now. I vaguely remembered him as Jack’s caretaker when the alpha had been indisposed. He was probably Jack’s second in command.

“What kind of ink were you thinking?” he asked hesitantly.

At the same time a server approached, placing a fresh bowl of sausages on the table before setting a plate, silverware wrapped in a linen napkin, and a frosted mug in front of me. I hadn’t planned to stay for food and I wasn’t a big fan of German fare. The smell from the bowls in front of me was starting to make my stomach growl. It was getting late in the day and I had yet to eat anything.

“You got a pen I can borrow?” I asked, looking up at the server.

She smiled at me as she dug in her pocket and pulled out a black ballpoint. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Thanks.”

Spreading out my napkin over my empty plate, I clicked the pen and started sketching as fast as my brain could work. In the center, I created a stylized
L
and
T,
then placed it within a large tree that had its branches and roots spread about a larger circle. “Being the Low Town pack and proud of that, you definitely need an
L
and
T
within the tattoo. Personally, if I see one more werewolf with a full moon or wolf howling as his pack tattoo, I think I’ll puke. It’s old, predictable, and been done to fucking death. What I’d like to see you do is have the letters carved into a large oak tree. The oak is a symbol of strength, power, and virility. Kings are associated with the oak. The roots would represent your long, proud history, and the limbs represent your strength and your reach across Low Town.”

As I finished the description, I lifted the napkin and turned it around on the plate so that Jack and his pack mate could see it clearly. It wasn’t my best work, but it wasn’t bad for a quick sketch on a linen napkin. Freddie even leaned forward a little to look at it.

“And you don’t put this on your chest or arm,” I said, dragging their eyes back to me. “It goes on the side of your neck. That way everyone can see it at all times. Everyone knows that you’re a member of the Low Town Pack.”

“That’s pretty cool,” said the pack member, his gaze dancing over the design.

Jack’s frown returned and he focused back on his plate, digging into the food with more force. “No.”

“But—”

“Drop it, Dave,” Jack snapped. “You know we can’t.”

I folded the napkin and placed it next to the werewolf called Dave. Grabbing my fork, I stabbed one of the sausages and took a bite. It tasted fantastic, going a long way toward settling the complaints of my stomach. “Who could stop you?” I asked around bites.

Dave directed his attention to his food. Jack paused before looking up at me. Hatred blazed in his brown eyes that held a hint of yellow from the line of werewolf flowing through his veins. For the first time, I didn’t think that anger and hatred were directed at me.

“Reave,” I said softly. Jack gave a grunt as he grabbed his mug and drained it. To my surprise, he picked up the pitcher and filled my mug before refilling his own. “Why?”

The silence stretched for a couple minutes, until I was sure that I wasn’t going to get an answer, but Jack unclenched his jaw and spoke.

“I might be the alpha, but Reave considers the pack his. He has for as long as he’s been in Low Town. A long time ago, he killed off the pack members that had tags and declared there would be no more clan tagging in Low Town. I think he’s afraid that the tag would mean that our loyalty belongs to something other than him.”

Finishing off my sausage, I stabbed another and munched on it as I sat back, thinking. “So, if Reave wasn’t around . . .” I said, letting my voice drift off.

Jack let out a bark of laughter, the last of the anger leaving his face. “Yeah, when pigs fly. It’s a nice thought, but you’ve got to remember, we know your secret, magic man. You can’t use your hocus-pocus on him or us, and that’s the only way you’re going to get rid of someone like Reave.”

I leaned across the table, an evil grin spreading across my face. “Can’t, huh? How’d that work out for you?”

The laughter left Jack’s eyes and he glared at me again. “Yeah, well, I doubt turning Reave into an ankle-biter is going to get rid of him.”

I sat back, finishing off my second sausage while debating taking a third. Freddie turned to look at me, a worried expression across his ugly face.

“You can’t do that to Mr. Reave, Gage,” Freddie warned. “He said the Towers would kill you if you use magic. Mr. Reave also has a lot of protection like ogres and trolls and that dark elf magic.”

“It’s okay, Freddie,” I said, patting him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him. “We’re just talking. That’s all. It’s just talk.”