Winter Wolf (22 page)

Amber straightened. “What?”

“She’s had a really long day, so I’ll make some allowances. Alex and I were keeping an eye on her after someone tried to kill her at her job. She was out walking her dogs when four Fenerec kidnapped her. Considering her current temperament, I feel it’s wise that we maintain our role as cooperative hostages until she feels comfortable letting us go. As I don’t think she really wants to kill anyone, she is using her very effective finger gun to keep us in line. If she points it at you, do as she says, Amber.”

Richard was laughing at me, a silent, merry sort of laugh that showed in his eyes without ever leaving his lips. Amber stared at him, then at me.

~You should tame and keep him,~
the book told me, amused.

I glared at the book, but couldn’t yell at it, or everyone would know I was crazy. Instead, I rose, taking the tea cup with me, and stomped my way over to the piano. After taking a sip, I sat down and stretched my fingers, ignoring the pain in my right hand.

“Again, Nicole?” Richard asked with a sigh. “You’re really going to damage your hand.”

I played with my left hand to prove I could, though I couldn’t recall the name of the song I played. It was elegant and dignified while also a little sad. Maybe my hand was trying to express what I could not, so I let my fingers roam over the keys as they willed.

“If she tells them I exist, they’ll kill me,” I said, staring down at the keys, ceasing to play the melody. Over and over again, I depressed the same key. “We can’t afford that, not yet.”

“She won’t tell them you exist,” Richard reassured me before twisting around in his chair to look at the witch. “I gave her my word, Amber.”

“What the hell is she, Richard? You didn’t tell me you had a rogue with you. You know how the Inquisition feels about rogues. If I hide her, it’s
my
head.” Amber shuddered, hugging herself. “You’re not paying me nearly enough for this.”

“Then I’ll just have to double your rate. The Inquisition doesn’t learn about her from you, understand?”
Richard glared at Amber, and she recoiled across the couch, cowering under the intensity of his stare.

“I understand,” she whispered. “Double the fee, and I won’t say a word. She doesn’t exist, so far as I’m concerned.”

“Oh, she exists, but she’s just a Normal, an innocent caught in the cross hairs, through no fault of her own.” While his laugh sounded forced to my ears, Amber relaxed and straightened her posture.

“Important? How? She’s an actress, I know, but…”

“Take a good look at her, Amber. Forget everything you know about her, and really
see
her.”

Hiding my confusion behind a neutral expression, I took a sip of my tea and watched Richard and Amber. Amber stared at me, her gaze settling on my scars. It was a long time before she managed to look at my face.

“I don’t understand.”

Muttering curses, Richard got up and picked up the photograph of my sister and slapped it down on the coffee table. “Look again.”

Amber picked up the picture, stared at it, then turned to me. Her blue eyes widened. “She’s not her.”

“Of course not,” Richard agreed, taking back the picture of my sister and bringing it to me. “This is yours.”

Taking the photograph with a trembling hand, I laid it on the keys and stared down at my sister’s smiling face. “Why are you doing this to me?” I whispered.

“Lisa Desmond is one of the Inquisition’s best coverts.” Amber’s voice sounded weak. When she fell silent, we waited for her to continue speaking. “You’re not her. You’re younger. Why do you have her face?”

“I’m older by ten minutes, actually,” I admitted in a strangled whisper, slapping the photograph off the piano with the back of my hand. The piano made an ugly sound as I pressed my fist against the keys. The picture fluttered to the floor, and I considered smashing the delicate teacup on the image, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t have a right to be angry. Maybe she had chosen to become a Fenerec, but I had been the one to run away.

It was my fault we weren’t together anymore.

“You’re twins.”

“I doubt anyone from her family could be normal,” Richard grumbled, bending over to pick up the picture. He set it on the back of the grand piano, far out of my reach. “Someone knows who she is and is willing to kill people to get her out of the way. The boy in the mall died of the plague, Amber. Her being there was just a coincidence.”

“No it wasn’t,” I whispered, staring at the piano keys, too ashamed to lift my head. “If I hadn’t been there, he might’ve lived a little longer.”

Richard froze. “What do you mean?”

“I…I didn’t think the police were going to do enough to try to find his killer, so… so I tried something.”

“Something?”

I pointed at the mirror. “I used that.”

Richard left my side, and despite the presence of others in the room, I felt alone.

“It’s a silver mirror. No offense, but I’m not going to touch it. What’s so special about it?”

“There’s nothing special about it. Sure, it’s a bit old, but it’s not special. It’s just silver.” I drew in a deep breath and let out in a sigh. “I took Scott’s blood and used it.”

Amber cleared her throat. “Excuse me, did you just say you used Scott’s blood?”

“I did.”

“You’re a necromancer?”

“No.”

“No? But that’s blood magic. Only—”

“I am not a necromancer or a sorcerer or a demon summoner,” I said, unable to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “I’m not a witch, either. Please let me finish.”

When no one said anything, I twisted around on the bench to face them, though I stared at the book instead. “He panicked when the lights went out. He hadn’t meant anyone any harm. I don’t know why, but he wanted to protect me. When he tried to become a wolf, he lost control. The… the disease tore him apart. He couldn’t become a wolf, and he couldn’t return to being a human. And just like that, he was gone.”

A tear streaked down my cheek and I angrily wiped it away. The Fenerec and witch waited in silence.

“I didn’t just see it in the mirror. I was there, and I died with him, because the same person can’t be in the same time at one time. That’s one rule not even I can break. Don’t you understand?”

“Oh my god,” Amber whispered. I looked up in time to see her lift a hand to her mouth. The color drained from her face. She knew, and because she knew, my guilt smothered me. She rose to her feet and stepped towards me. I flinched and twisted away from her. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

I tensed at the horror in the woman’s voice. I expected an immediate execution at the hands of an Inquisitor, but Amber didn’t do anything other than watch me. If she decided to eliminate me, she’d find me an easy enough victim. I was so tired of running, hiding, and fighting for my survival.

“She’s one of
what
?” Richard asked, his tone curt from frustration.

I bowed my head and tried to convince myself I wouldn’t break under their scrutiny. When the violence I expected from Amber didn’t come, I dared glancing at the woman out of the corner of my eye. All I could see in her expression was pity, and that was almost worse than her attacking me outright. I chewed on my lip and tried to gather enough courage to speak.

Amber spared me by saying, “She’s a wizard, Richard.”

“A wizard, Amber? They’re legends.” Richard sounded skeptical, and I didn’t blame him.

The Inquisition worked hard to make sure people like me didn’t live long.

“And now you know why she was ready to kill me. If the Inquisition finds out she exists, they’ll never stop until she’s dead, and they won’t care how many they have to kill in the process to make sure she’s gone. They
want
you to think they’re just another myth or legend.”

Movement drew my attention. Richard rose to his feet and approached the piano, his focus entirely on the witch he had hired. “And what are you going to do about it, Amber?”

Amber held her hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. “I’m not going to do anything. My word is good, Richard. The Inquisition isn’t going to learn anything from me.”

“You changed your tune mighty fast, Amber,” was the suspicious reply.

“I might be a witch, Richard, but I’m not a monster, and neither is she. Even I can see that.”

~~*~~

When the events of the day finally overwhelmed me, I retreated to the safety of one of the suite’s bedrooms. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I awoke, an unfamiliar weight pressed against my back. I cracked open an eye and groaned a little. The sun blazed in my eyes and I threw the pillow over my head.

When I couldn’t fall back asleep, I sat up and rubbed at my eyes.

I was completely surrounded. Richard and Alex were dressed in the clothes I remembered them being in the night before, sprawled on top of the duvet in a tangle of arms and legs. To my relief, I was dressed in my pajamas, though I didn’t remember putting them on. Amber was curled up next to me, her back pressed against me.

I remembered going to bed, but I couldn’t recall agreeing to share a bed with two men and another woman. I sat up, rubbing at my eyes in my effort to disbelieve the sleeping figures surrounding me. They didn’t vanish. I rubbed at my eyes again.

They were still there.

~Fenerec do not enjoy sleeping alone, and the witch didn’t like the thought of abandoning you to the wolves,~
the book informed me in an amused tone.
~You were not very sensible or coherent last night, so I shall fill you in. The witch didn’t try to kill you, you didn’t try to kill her, and the Fenerec decided Amber wasn’t a risk to you, so they let her live. Pack politics. It’s a shame you missed most of it, you might’ve learned something. It seems Amber’s grandmother was a wizard. The Inquisition murdered her. Amber was give a choice: join or die. They talked about it after you locked yourself in the bathroom and cried yourself sick.~

I had wanted to forget that part of the evening. I considered lighting the book on fire, but thought better of it. It wasn’t the book’s fault I had humiliated myself. Scouring my memory didn’t help me any; I didn’t remember what the book was talking about at all.

None of my uninvited bedmates stirred as I crawled out from under the covers and tip-toed my way across the suite. Once I was in the sitting room, I stared down at the book, which was still on the coffee table. “So Amber has a history with wizards,” I whispered.

~So it seems. I think she’ll keep our secret safe. The Fenerec, too. But if you don’t believe them, it’d be simple enough to take them out, though I think the witch could be a good ally. She can help you hide from the Inquisition. She knows their ways.~

I decided to ignore the book’s lust for blood and murder. So far as I could tell, it wanted to keep me alive, and dead people couldn’t threaten me. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

~Exactly.~

“If I wanted to find someone who disappeared a long time ago, could I?” I kept my voice to a whisper, worried about waking the others. While the book could read my mind when it wanted, if I spoke, it had to listen. If I didn’t, it could choose to ignore my questions.

I wanted to be done with being ignored and feeling helpless. I was tired of the gut-wrenching guilt I carried around with me just because I existed. With three people in the world who knew what I was, and hadn’t tried to kill me right away because of it, maybe I didn’t
have
to be alone all of the time.

After giving me a few minutes to think, it said,
~If you want to find someone who doesn’t want to be found, you need something of theirs. Do you have something they owned? Anything at all? It would work best if you had their hair, nail trimmings, or blood. Do they have a direct descendant?~

Shaking my head, I sank down on the couch. My stomach gurgled its displeasure at me. After over a day without a real meal, I was fit to kill—and the idea of eating whatever got in my way wasn’t entirely repulsive.

~They’re influencing you.~
The book was amused. It didn’t seem all that concerned.

I flipped a rude gesture at it. “You’d be hungry too. Oh, that’s right. You
can’t
get hungry. I’d call room service, but they’d wake up.”

~Bitch,~
the book said with fondness.

“Hungry bitch,” I mumbled, getting up to prowl around the suite in search of something to nibble on. I found a little refrigerator tucked in a corner, but it proved empty, save for a small container of coffee cream. When my search of the sitting room failed, I expanded my efforts to the second bedroom, where I found a stash of chocolates and granola bars. With the worst of my hunger satiated by sweets, I decided to go through the files, which had been left on the table.

Most of it I already knew, though there were several pages of research notes on the nature of the plague, and what I read terrified me.

Ebola
was something best left to scary movies and secluded cases in Africa, but the notes pointed at
ebolavirus zaire
as a close match for what infected the werewolves—except it didn’t infect humans. The notes also implied it didn’t infect real wolves either. I took the files to the office, where I found several dictionaries, including a medical reference book. Someone had flagged a bunch of pages with slips of paper. Reading through the file took time; whoever had written it liked medical jargon, and I spent more time looking up definitions than anything else.