Revenant (18 page)

She starts, looks guilty and thumbs the lighter into flame. Piers takes a step toward them, the girl’s gaze locked on him, before the pair seem to shrink and dissolve, slipping into the flame before it flickers out and is gone.

Piers curses into the growing shadows, turning to me. “I’m going after them.” He leaves me there, the dark tunnel of his making devouring him, the end snapping firmly shut.

I’m suddenly lonely, missing Sage, missing my pack. But I’ve learned to be on my own, haven’t I, after years of training, courtesy of Andre Dumont? I shudder past the innate need of werewolves to work in a group, knowing I’m probably better off in this instance.

The streetlights come on as darkness claims the city. I step out onto the sidewalk, eyes settling on a sign just down half a block. A biker bar, from the look of it, with a couple of big Harley Davidson motorcycles out front, a narrow driveway beside. What had Anna said about Caine and his people? That a gang had gone missing?

It was worth a shot. And Piers brought us here for a reason, even if he didn’t tell me directly what that reason is.

The heavy door is silent when I pull on it, and I step into heavy smoke. A large man covered in tattoos, most of his chest exposed despite the leather vest he wears, tries to stop me from going further.

“Private club,” he says in a voice like the depths of the earth.

“I’m looking for Caine,” I say. He grunts like I hit him, glances over his shoulder.

“Not here anymore.” He seems less antagonistic, more curious, eyes traveling over me. I know I look like a college girl, a tourist maybe. But when he meets my eyes, I let him see the wolf and he backs off. Yes, it’s against our laws. But if he knows Caine, surely this isn’t the first time he’s encountered eyes like mine.

“I need information,” I say. “Anyone here who can help me?”

Big boy nods, steps aside. Points at a lean, older man at the table closest to the bar. Cigar smoke hovers in the air, the scent of marijuana, whisky, and beer married to sweat and leather. “Chokehold,” the bouncer says. “Not my problem what happens when you ask.”

I shrug and walk past him. The moment I do, everyone stares, the twenty or so occupants of the small bar. It’s typical biker chic interior, a giant pool table at one end, the chairs studded and covered in black leather. One of the women scowls at me, her heavily made-up eyes and bleached hair trying for forty and failing miserably. I ignore her, moving with confident purpose to the lean, old man watching my approach with a cigar clamped between his teeth. His long, gray braid sits in his lap, leather cap holding it back from his face. He has so many tattoos on his wrinkled arms I would never sort them out, even if I had the time.

I come to a halt in front of him as he pushes back his chair to look up at me. “Caine,” I say, releasing my wolf again, enough he sees what he’s dealing with. “Who made him?”

It’s possible I’m barking up a dead tree, that I’ve made a terrible mistake and broken our laws, showing myself to normals for no good reason. But Chokehold’s reaction tells me I’m dead on target.

“Caine and his bunch are long gone,” Chokehold says in an oddly mild and cultured voice. “But you know that.”

I nod. “I’m looking for his maker.”

The old biker sits forward, rolling his cigar around in his mouth. “Might be able to point you in the right direction,” he says. “You same as Caine?”

I shake my head. “Better.”

Chokehold laughs, startling the woman sitting next to him. She’s younger, too young, in my opinion, to be hanging onto his every word. But I’m not here to save her.

“I bet you are,” he says. “Caine’s a jackass.”

“We’re in agreement,” I say. “Can you help me or not?”

Chokehold drops his cigar to the floor and steps on it before slowly rising to face me. He’s just my height, slim and lean. Which means he’s all kinds of dangerous if he can hold his own against the burly men watching us, no matter his age. I can tell someone like him has proven time and again to be the best, and I will not underestimate him. Just as I can tell by the way he treats me, he will not take my quiet confidence for granted.

“You’re looking for someone else.” Chokehold crosses his arms over his chest.

My heart skips. Is he talking about Sage? “Maybe,” I say. “Young, dark hair?”

He nods. “Asked the same questions you did. Same eyes, too.”

Relief, though short lived. Sage left me on purpose then. And I let him go without knowing it. Worse, Sage is turning without support, with Enforcers out there, maybe werewolves, if Caine has tracked us. I have to find Sage and keep him safe until we know our next step. “Where did you send him?”

Chokehold grins at me. “Didn’t,” he says. “Because I have no idea.” The crowd mutters agreement. “See, Caine and his crew, they weren’t the only ones who were offered a deal. But we all said no.” Is that fear in his voice? “As in, hell no.” More agreement. “In fact, if the dude hadn’t looked so nuts, I would have killed him myself.”

Dude? Sage? No, not Sage.

“Rupe.” I look around. They don’t recognize the name, shaking their heads.

Chokehold grunts. “Some scrawny shit in a suit, but pure freaking psycho. Caine’s just crazy enough to say yes.”

So we were right about who made Caine. Tallah is an expert at supposition. “Liander Belaisle.”

“That’s the one.” Chokehold shrugs. “Sent him off with Cicero and those Knox sibs. Good riddance.” It
is
fear.

“They came back.” I don’t have to look around this time, the confirmation coming in a wave of anxiety.

Chokehold lets his arms fall to his sides. “I’ve killed lots of people in my life,” he says, voice soft, “for good reasons and bad. But I ain’t never seen such evil before.” He shivers while the others back away. “You don’t feel like him. But you’re the same.”

“Better, I said.” I wink. “Much, much better.”

“Good enough to take him down?” The old man shrugs. “Whatever.” Chokehold gestures at the door. “We told you what we know. Now you get to leave in one piece. And never come back.”

His threat might be real, but we both know it’s empty. I could kill them all if I chose, and they wouldn’t stand a chance against me. But he’s given me all he knows, and that has earned my respect.

I wish there was more, but I’m certain Chokehold and his people would have told me, if only to make sure Belaisle never returns.

The street outside is dark and humid as the big bouncer closes the door behind me. At least I now have solid proof Caine is a revenant. I have witnesses who knew him as human, before Belaisle turned him. That’s something. I also know the Brotherhood is involved.

And I know Sage is okay and on his own, not under the control of the sorcerers. Until they find him. He can take care of himself in normal circumstances, but this mess is far from normal.

I have to find him. My power snakes out, a thin thread, searching for him, only to encounter more sorcery. The alley where Piers and I arrived is occupied again. But it’s not my friend this time.

I cross the street, enter the dark slowly, unsurprised to find the dark-eyed girl waiting for me.

***

“You recognized me.” I close the distance between us though she backpedals slightly, nervous, despite the fact she’s the one who came to see me.

“Yes,” she says, the hand holding her dead lighter in front of her shaking. Her voice barely rises above a whisper. I come to a halt, not wanting to scare her off, but needing to know what she knows. And who she is, exactly.

“You’re Steam Union?” Where is Piers? He obviously didn’t find her, off on a goose chase, at this point. Or pursuing the girl’s sorcerer friend, more likely. He seemed less inclined to talk to us. What’s different about her?

“I don’t know what that means,” she says, voice rising a little. She’s a lovely thing, delicate and slim, with exotic features that make me think of Greece. “What’s Steam Union?”

Well, that’s not helpful.

“You’re a wolf,” she says. “A blonde wolf. But you have blonde hair as a human, too, only it’s black right now.” She seems confused. “And you travel with her a lot.”

I’m immediately tense, hackles rising. What the hell is this? “How do you know me?” I’m certain I’ve never seen her before. She certainly doesn’t smell familiar.

She shivers, fingers adjusting around the silver lighter. She keeps it between us, as though it will protect her from me. But if I want to take her down, I’ll be on her before her thumb can strike a flame.

“I’ve seen you,” she says. “My entire life.”

My wolf chuffs her confusion. Seen me how? “You’re not making any sense.” Who is she?

She shakes her head, as though fighting with herself. “You travel with her, you’re always with her, I’ve seen it.” Faint horror rises in her huge, dark eyes. She licks her lips, nervous. “I shouldn’t be here. But I had to know if it was really you.”

“Who are you talking about?” I don’t have time for this nonsense. That’s what her gibberish sounds like. If she’s not Steam Union, she’s not helpful. Maybe I’ll come back when this is over—if I can—and have a chat with the odd girl before me. But right now, I have to find Sage before it’s too late.

“You know who I’m talking about,” she says. “The woman with the rainbow magic.”

Everything goes still inside me. Syd. She’s talking about Syd.

“She’s evil, you know.” The girl is shaking harder, pupils dilated, eyes frightened. “You have to get away from her. Don’t let her hurt you.”

Now my anger surfaces, my wolf ready to take her out for the lies she’s speaking. What the hell is this? “Syd would never hurt me.” I take another step closer, Sage in the back of my mind, but my worry for my friend in Wilding Springs taking over while my wolf surfaces in my eyes. “She’s not evil, any more than I am.”

The girl wails softly, though she doesn’t retreat from me despite my rising anger. “I’ve seen it,” she cries. “I’ve seen the end of the world, and she’s the cause of it.”

My heart pounds heavily for a few beats, confusion at war with my temper. “Who are you?”

“My name is Zoe,” she whispers. “Zoe Helios. I’m an Oracle. And I’ve seen everything.”

It takes so much effort not to lunge at her, seize her in my hands and shake her, shake her so hard she stops lying about Syd. “Tell me what you’ve seen.”

Awe seems to take her, replacing some of her fear. “I can’t believe it’s you,” she says, wiping at a tear trickling from her big eyes. “All this time, since I was a little girl. I’m finally meeting The Wolf.” She says it like she’s capitalizing the words, as though it’s a title. “And him,” she says. “The Sorcerer.” She has to be talking about Piers. “That means it’s almost time.” She sobs softly once before pulling herself together, cheeks wet again. Only this time she doesn’t try to dry her tears. “Please, you have to listen to me.”

If it’s more nonsense about Syd, she can forget it. “Pay attention, child,” I say. “I don’t have time for your games right now. I’m looking for someone, and unless you can help me find him, you’re on your own.”

Her mouth opens and closes before she shakes her head. “I can only see the future I’ve been assigned,” she says. “I’m sorry. But you have to stop her.” She moves toward me before falling back when I snarl at her. “You have to stop the one with the rainbow magic before it’s too late.”

I cut the air with one hand. “If you’re still talking about Syd,” I growl, “you can shut your mouth. She’s saved our asses—this whole Universe—so many times I’ve lost count. You should be damned grateful for her.” I can barely control my rage, wanting to let it out all over this tiny thing who makes my head spin. “You’re standing here,” I spit the last few words, “because of her. So stop talking before I make you stop.”

Zoe shakes her head, horror on her face. “No,” she says. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” I say, “and unless you were there, little oracle girl, I’d keep my damned mouth shut. Because I was.” I pound my chest with one fist. “I was. I saw it happen, I lived it.”

She stumbles back, head dropping. “It’s not possible.” Her free hand lifts to grasp the lighter, which flickers to life on its own. A flame appears, images flashing. I catch only a few, one of them predominant—Syd’s grim face. “I’ve seen it all!”

“Whatever.” I turn my back on her.

“Wait!” She comes after me, stops just behind me as I turn to face her again. She’s young, maybe eighteen, earnest and afraid, lost. “She is the Dark One.”

“The Dark One,” I say, “is dead and gone, at Syd’s hand, five years ago.” Some oracle this girl is.

The flame rises between us and a face appears in the fire. Syd again. “The Dark One,” she repeats.

How has this kid gotten things so confused? “I don’t know who is supplying your little prophecies,” I say, jabbing a finger at the fire, “but that woman is the Light One, girl.”

Zoe’s eyes fill with tears, her lower lip trembling. “No,” she whispers. “It can’t be true. How can it be true?” She stares into the flame. “Is it all a lie?”

I reach for her, she’s so distraught, but she begins to fade too quickly, vanishing into the flame, the lighter flickering out and disappearing with her.

Syd needs to know something is wrong. Whoever this kid is, claiming to be an Oracle, she’s seen something big coming. I have to warn my friend.

But Sage…I can’t risk reaching for Syd now. And there has to be time.

I spin, hunting Sage’s scent, and run for the street again, determined to track him down and finish this so I can help Syd. Because I have a feeling she’s going to need all the help she can get.

My face slams into a barrier of darkness, the air smothering me before I can react, blackness engulfing me and dragging me screaming into unconsciousness.

***

I wake slowly, cheek pressed to cold stone, the scent of mildew and rock filling my senses. It’s dark, but not the darkness of sorcery, merely a room absent of light. I push myself up, arms shaking, though I’m recovering from the blow that knocked me out. It had to have been magic to drain my entire body so completely.

My eyes adjust, the low light coming from a crack in the far corner outlining the bottom of what has to be a door. It feels damp and cool here, the weight of some structure above me pressing down, the tang of aged moisture on my tongue. A basement? Yes, that makes sense. And the faint taste of fermentation. A wine cellar, perhaps.