Magic Rises (26 page)

If Doolittle was right, the winged shapeshifters could assume human and animal shapes that let them mimic normal shapeshifters. It explained why the winged freaks suddenly started showing up at the castle—they were members of either Belve Ravennati or the Volkodavi, and if they had to fight, they assumed their final form. The million-dollar question was, which one was it? The creatures looked more feline to me, but that didn’t mean anything.

“What about the other child?”

“It’s a wolf,” Doolittle said.

That told us nothing. A child of two shapeshifters rolled genetic dice: he could inherit a beast from his father or his mother. Desandra transformed into a wolf. If she had a child with Gerardo, he would be a wolf. If she had a child with Radomil, he could be a wolf or a lynx. We still knew nothing except that she was growing a monster inside her. Eventually I would have to tell her this. Could this get more fucked up?

At the door Mahon crossed his arms. “Who are you?”

A woman answered quietly. The big werebear stepped aside and a tall woman in her late forties stepped through the door. Dark-skinned and graceful, she looked Arabic. An adolescent boy and a younger girl followed her.

“My name is Demet,” the woman said slowly. “Lord Megobari sent for me. To heal.” She put her hand over her heart. “Healer.”

“That’s very fortunate,” Doolittle said. “Because I can’t move my legs.”

CHAPTER 14

Eduardo paced up and down the common area, stomping as if he had hooves and glaring at the bathroom door. Demet asked for privacy, and the bathroom was the only place that still had a functional door. Derek went in there with them. His face alone was enough of a deterrent even if she had decided to try something.

Eduardo exhaled and turned back for another pass. Red streaks stained his white T-shirt—his wounds were deep and he wasn’t doing them any favors.

Keira paced too, to the wall and back, turning just a hair before her body touched the stone. Barabas sat in the middle of the room, his face grim. At the door, Mahon loomed, a somber shadow.

It never occurred to me that something was wrong. When Doolittle sat up in his tub, I felt an overwhelming avalanche of relief. I never thought to ask if he was okay . . .

Curran walked through the door. Blood drenched his right side. On the left, deep cuts where monster claws had gouged his flesh crossed his muscles. Being hugged by a flying eight-foot long leopard left its mark.

He walked over to me and crouched.

“Are you okay?”

Define “okay.”
“Yes. Did you get him?”

“It was a woman. She threw herself from the cliff. Her brains are splattered on the bottom of the ravine.”

Damn it.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Doolittle woke up. He can’t move his legs.”

The door of the bathroom room swung open and Demet stepped out. Her teenage son followed her.

Curran rose. “How is he?”

Demet said something. Her son turned, presenting us with his back. “First injury.” Demet pointed with her fingers at the top of his neck, drawing an invisible line. “Cervical. Healed. No problem. Second injury.”

She swept her hand lower, indicating the small of the back and lower.

“Lumbar. L1 and L2.”

Demet held up one, then two fingers and tapped the boy on the shoulder. He turned.

“Full feeling here.” Demet drew her hand from his head down to his stomach. She struggled for a word. “Not full . . . ?”

“Some,” Barabas offered.

“Some feeling here.” Her hand moved from the stomach down through the pelvis. “Legs, no.”

Doolittle was paralyzed from his hips down. My mind ran against that thought and splattered.

“Will he ever walk again?” Curran asked.

Demet spread her arms. “Possible. I did everything I could for him.” She paused. “Time. Time, magic, and rest.”

She turned to me. “You have wounds.”

“I don’t care.”

She shook. “You not like them. No time. Must heal right away.”

“It’s my fault,” Eduardo said. “I couldn’t hold her.”

“She flew,” Keira told him. “And she was strong. All three of us couldn’t hold her.”

Eduardo’s eyes bulged. He turned in place, looking like he would break into a charge any second. He was going into a tailspin, fast.

“It’s my fault. I was supposed to watch him. I let him get hurt.”

He turned, stomping toward the door. Curran stepped into his way. “Stop.”

Eduardo skidded to a halt.

“Look at me.”

The big man focused on Curran’s face.

“Man up,” Curran said, his voice saturated with force. “We’re still in danger. I still need you. Don’t fold on me.”

Eduardo exhaled through his nose.

“That goes for all of you,” Curran said. “Later we can sit around and wonder what if and cry about what we should’ve done different. Right now, we work. We’ve been attacked. They’re still out there. We will hunt them down and take them apart.”

Barabas sat a little straighter. Keira pushed herself from the wall.

Curran looked back at Eduardo. “Okay?”

“Okay,” the big man said.

“Good.” Curran turned to Demet. “Heal Kate.”

* * *

I woke up with Curran sitting next to me. He didn’t say anything. He just sat next to me and looked at me.

“Were you watching me sleep? Because I thought we agreed that’s creepy.”

He didn’t answer.

We were alone in the room. Doolittle and his tub, Keira, and everyone else were gone. On second thought the covers under me looked familiar. I was on our bed. He must’ve carried me to our room. I usually woke up if someone moved outside my room behind a closed door. How did I sleep through him carrying me? Doolittle had a habit of slipping sedatives into my drink, because I ignored his instructions to lie down and rest, but the last I saw him he was in the bathtub. Demet and her children had chanted my wounds into regeneration. I recalled a rush of soothing coolness foaming over my wounds. And then George handed me a glass of water.

“George sedated me. Okay, the drugging thing has to stop. Also, if one of them ever attempts to hold me down and pour booze on my wound, I will kill somebody. That’s not an idle threat either.”

Curran didn’t say anything.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded at the wall.

I concentrated. The magic was still up, and as I quested forward, I felt something stir behind the stone. Not a vampire, but something odd. Something I hadn’t felt before. We were being listened to.

Curran’s mouth was a hard slash across his face. He was angry. Monumentally, terribly angry.

I reached over and touched his face, looking for that intimate connection.
Hey. Are we still okay?

He took my hand, his strong fingers hot and dry, and squeezed it. Okay. We were still okay. He didn’t have to say anything else.

“Did Doolittle talk to you?” I asked.

He shook his head.

I reached over to the night table, took a small notepad, and a pen, and wrote on it,
He tested Desandra’s amniotic fluid. One of the babies could grow wings.

Curran’s eyes widened. He took the pen.
Did she sleep with one of those things?

Most likely Radomil or Gerardo
is
one of those things.

How is that possible?

You have two forms, human and animal. Doolittle thinks that these guys have a third one: human, animal, and monster with wings.

Curran shook his head. “Which one is it?”

No way to tell. The amniotic fluid indicates that one baby is a wolf and the other is something else. The Lyc-V with wolf genes could come from Desandra. They must’ve known or suspected Doolittle found something out. That’s why they wrecked his lab.

Who knew that Doolittle had taken the amniotic fluid?
Curran wrote.

Ivanna for sure,
I wrote. Radomil’s sister had offered to hold Desandra’s hand in case she was scared. At the time I thought she was a decent human being.
Anybody could’ve seen it. Radomil and Ignazio were all brawling in the hallway while Doolittle worked.

A familiar careful knock sounded through the door. Barabas.

“Just a minute.” I flipped the piece of paper over.
I’m going to ruffle the packs to see if I can get a reaction.

Anybody who isn’t watching Desandra will be watching Doolittle,
he wrote.

Perfect. “I have to go meet with the packs this morning,” I said aloud. “Anything you may want me to pass along?”

“Yes.” Curran took the note folded it and methodically tore it into confetti. “Tell them that there is no escape from me.”

* * *

The Belve Ravennati were my first stop. We met by a giant bay window in one of the public rooms where soft tan furniture sat arranged around a coffee table. The wolves from Ravenna didn’t want me in their quarters.

I sat in a love seat across from Isabella Lovari. Gerardo sat on her left. His brother was nowhere to be found. Three other people joined us, all with a similar bearing: clean-cut, the two men clean-shaven, the woman’s hair pulled back into a ponytail. They gave off an almost military air, and they watched me with a single-minded attention. This was a wolf pack, and I was clearly the enemy.

Barabas stood behind me, taking notes on a legal pad.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” I said. The swelling hadn’t gone down as much as I would’ve liked, and talking hurt.

Isabella looked me over. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“I’m hard to kill.”

“Like a cockroach.”

“Not sure that’s a good comparison. I never had trouble killing small insects,” I said.

Barabas quietly cleared his throat.

Isabella raised her eyebrows. In her early fifties, she had a kind of sharp precision about her. Over my time with the Pack I had watched alphas work. Some struggled, like Jennifer. Some, like the Lonescos of Clan Rat, had a natural ease about interacting with people in their charge. Isabella had neither. She radiated the air of command. It was obedience or else.

“As you know, we’re attempting to discover the nature of the attacks on Desandra’s life,” I said. “Her well-being and the well-being of her children is our first priority.”

“Are you trying to imply that we’re under suspicion?” Isabella asked.

“I’m not implying; I’m saying it. I’d like nothing better than to strike you from my list.”

Barabas passed me a small note card with a single word:
diplomatic
.

Isabella leaned back. “I’m insulted.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I said. “Last night your daughter-in-law was attacked. Our people were hurt. I’ve got ten shapeshifters howling for blood. I’m looking for someone to hunt. It can be you or it can be Kral or the Volkodavi. I don’t really care. So go ahead. Give me a reason to paint a target on your chest.”

The Belve Ravennati stared at me in stunned silence.

Isabella laughed quietly. “Ask your questions.”

“Where were you last night around midnight?”

“In our quarters. My sons were with my husband and me.”

“Can the guards account for your whereabouts?”

“No.”

Isabella’s wolves turned their heads toward the hallway. Someone large was coming toward us. I leaned forward to get a better look. Mahon. Now what?

The bear of Atlanta approached us, slowly, clearly in no hurry, and came to stand next to Barabas behind me. “Sorry I’m late.”

Backup. Wow. Knock me over with a feather.

The Belve Ravennati were looking at me. Right. Where were we?

I concentrated on Isabella’s face. This was the reason I had come here in the first place. “We have reason to believe we can identify the creatures who attacked Desandra through a blood test. Would you be willing to provide us with a blood sample?”

“Absolutely not.”

Unfazed. She wouldn’t give us the blood, but the fact that we could test it didn’t bother her any. Gerardo’s face showed no anxiety either. “Why?”

“Because blood is a precious commodity. I won’t give you access to it only to have it used against my family by magical means.”

Well, it was worth a shot. I looked at Gerardo. “When did you find out that Desandra had been attacked?”

“A guard told us after it happened,” he said.

“Did you make any efforts to assist us in making sure Desandra was safe?”

Gerardo unlocked his jaw. “No.”

“Did you make any efforts to visit the future mother of your child and make sure she is alright?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I forbade it,” Isabella said. “My son is overly fond of that woman. Since she’s now a target, being near her puts him in danger.”

I looked at Gerardo. “Don’t you think you owe some loyalty—”

“To a slut who slept with another man?” Isabella raised her eyebrows. “I can understand why you might feel sympathy for her. You are not married either.”

Behind me the pen creaked in Barabas’s fingers. He must’ve squeezed it too hard.

I regarded Isabella. Straight for the jugular, huh? The strange thing was, it hurt. It stabbed me right in some deep female part of my psyche that I had no idea existed. “Loyalty to the woman who was your wife for two years and who is now carrying your child.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like,” Gerardo said. “To never know if your wife loves you or if she’s just waiting for the right moment to stab you in the back because her father told her so.”

Isabella’s eyebrows came together. “My son deserves a woman who is honorable and strong, who will be a partner and an alpha, instead of a weak half-wit who is only a liability. This is a pointless conversation.” Isabella looked past me at Mahon. “We all know that the human is being replaced. Last night’s dinner was definitive proof of that.”

What happened last night?

Mahon leaned forward, his hands on the back of my chair. The wood groaned under the pressure of his fingers. “She’s earned my loyalty. Do not insult her again.”

The world stood on its ear.

“Fine,” Isabella said. “You may play this game of pretend, but I’m done. Your human knows it, too. One only has to see the look on her face when Lorelei Wilson walks into the room.” She looked at me. “You are an open book, and you know you are being set aside. Take your pets and leave us.”

I rose.

Mahon looked at Gerardo. “You can’t hold on to your mother’s skirt forever.”

The werewolf bared his teeth.

“Enough.” Isabella rose and walked away. Her wolves followed. A moment and we were alone.

“What happened at dinner?” I asked once they were out of earshot.