Wolf's Fall (17 page)

Nick almost felt sorry that the bastard would never know this camaraderie. Almost.

Hurrying his steps, he started for his mate's chambers. He got as far as the corridor he should turn down to get to her room when his cell rang. He half expected the caller to be his brother, but he was surprised to see it was Tarron.

“Westfall,” he said, answering.

“Nick, we have a problem.”

“Not on the phone. I'll come to your office.” Hanging up, he walked briskly, not wasting time but not wanting to alarm anyone. When he reached the large door, he knocked.

“Come in.”

The prince was pacing the carpet, and looked up in relief when Nick came in. “One of my guards has left the stronghold without my permission. I put him on the last shift, and found out he begged off, claiming to have fallen sick from a bad batch of blood. After his shift was covered, one of the
perimeter cameras captured him leaving, acting very furtive.”

“Who was it?”

“Graham.”

“Damn,” Nick said angrily. “He's the only one who was with Calla when she was taken. I should've taken a closer look at him before now. Is someone following him?”

“As we speak. Care to join me in catching up?”

“Are you kidding? Let's go catch ourselves a traitor.”

Briefly returning to his own bunk, Nick changed into cammos and loaded up with his weapons. His wolf prowled restlessly inside, wanting in on the action.

“Soon,” he promised.

With one last check of his ammo, he went to meet Tarron out front.

Time to find out just what the fuck was going on, and destroy the asshole who was behind it
all.

O
ut front, Nick and Tarron jumped into a Land Rover driven by Ian.

Micah accompanied Nick, appearing surprised and pleased to have been chosen for this mission, when the simple truth was Nick wanted to boost the young wolf's confidence—while keeping an eye on him.

“Why are we not tracking Graham on the ground, in wolf form?” Nick asked as the vehicle peeled from the driveway. He still had the guard's scent programmed into his wolf's brain, so following him wouldn't be a problem.

Tarron answered from his spot in the front passenger's seat next to Ian. “Teague is tracking the SUV Graham took, using the tracking device installed in the vehicle.” The prince pointed to the earpiece and wire Ian wore. “He's giving Ian directions.”

“That's certainly easier.”

Micah spoke up from beside Nick. “Good old shifter methods fall to technology. It's sad, really.”

He sounded so sincere, Nick and the others chuckled. Nick said, “Don't worry, kid. You'll have plenty of opportunity to use your talents.”

Micah, being the easygoing type normally, didn't take exception to their amusement or being called “kid.” Nick was good at reading people, and Micah had a big heart. He just needed to believe in himself, and to do that he had to get past the horror that had put those scars on his face. The best way Nick could help him do that was to keep him on the front line.

Anything to keep his vision from coming to pass.

Ian drove on, getting directions now and then from their tech god, winding them through the mountains for a good hour. At last, Ian pulled over to the side of the road and addressed the group.

“We need to stop here and walk the rest of the way so we don't alert Graham and whoever he's meeting.”

The vampires had brought a camera and a recording device, which struck Nick as so practical he knew Micah had a point. Sometimes having special abilities couldn't take care of everything.

They set out across the green terrain, picking their way around rocks and brush. The sky was a
clear blue, a few clouds drifting past. A good day for surveillance, but also to be seen. They'd have to be careful.

A single voice reached them, and Tarron waved them to a halt. “Graham,” he whispered. The conversation was one-sided, and the guard sounded uneasy. Annoyed. “Sounds like he's on the phone.”

As they approached, they took cover in the brush, in a spot that overlooked the relatively flat area where Graham had parked the borrowed SUV. He was alone, pacing, running a hand through his dark hair. The vampire was obviously nervous, and Nick thought he should be, getting into bed with the enemy. Though they still had to see for themselves. Innocent until proven guilty.

Ian snapped pictures and Tarron gave Micah the job of recording with the small handheld device he'd brought. The foursome watched and listened as Graham quietly unraveled while waiting for a meeting to take place. The poor bastard made a terrible villain, Nick thought. He was so outwardly nervous, he was going to get eaten alive.

Finally, a beat-up pickup truck rounded the bend, and three men hopped out. Two were wearing cammos and carrying their beloved assault rifles. The third was . . .

“Motherfucking hell,” Nick hissed. “That's Scott Morgan.”

“Who?” Tarron peered at the innocuous-looking man with a frown.

Nick took a fresh look at Scott, knew they saw a slight man of average height and a friendly face, with shaggy brown hair and dark eyes. “The Pack's new mechanic,” he supplied, seething. “The little bastard is a plant, to spy on us, obviously.”

“But by whom?” Micah questioned. “Who has the power to replace Tom so suddenly?”

Only Grant should, but Nick refused to believe the general would betray them. “I don't know.”

The unlikely trio approached Graham, but the two hardened hunters stayed a step or two behind, allowing Scott to take the lead. One even threw the “mechanic” a wary—no, fearful—glance and put even more space between them. What the fuck?

Graham must've had the same thought. “Your tough leader sent a boy to do his job?” he sneered. “I thought he possessed an ounce of cunning.”

So Graham and Scott hadn't met before today. Apparently, Scott had been recruited by either the hunters or the rogues for their vampire boss.

Scott's face darkened and he held himself dangerously still. “Vampire, you're the only boy present, and a stupid one at that. Never presume until you know exactly who you're dealing with.”

The vampire's confidence waned some and he shifted his stance. “Don't suppose you'd care to clue me in, finally?”

Scott smiled, and right before their eyes began to transform. His incisors lengthened by inches,
wicked sharp and deadly. His height grew to top seven feet, and his build went from slim and average to lean but muscular. Shaggy brown hair became wavy and dark, reaching his shoulders. The rest of the glamour lifted, and the stranger stood before them wearing leather pants and a sleeveless black shirt that showed off the dragon tattoos and other scrollwork adorning both arms.

Nick stared, pulse kicking as he recalled where he'd seen this man before.

“Haven't seen you around,” a voice said idly.

Nick eyed the dark stranger standing in the shadows. Reaching out with his PreCog senses, he found the walls surrounding this man to be nearly impenetrable. That bothered him more than he cared to admit. “Can't say I've seen you, either. You know Calla or her brother personally?”

“Not really. You could say I'm gate-crashing.” His smile was feral. “Friend of a friend. You know how it is.”

Something about the man put him on edge. “I'm Nick Westfall, com—”

“Commander of the Alpha Pack. Yeah, word gets around. Nice gig if you can get it.”

Rage fired Nick's blood. He'd been played by this creature all along. They all had. The vile monster had been observing, feeding information to his master. And enjoying the game in the bargain. Toying with his prey.

Another snippet of their conversation replayed in his head.

“I didn't catch your name,” Nick said.

“I didn't say.” He polished off the cheese, eyeing Nick. “But it's Jinn.”

“Jinn . . . ?” he prompted.

“Just Jinn. No last name.”

Inside him, Nick's wolf shifted and rumbled in warning.
Nick had recognized the name from his vision about Nix learning of Noah's abduction.
“And how is that?”

Moving closer, he got a whiff of Jinn's scent and found he wasn't a shifter, or a vampire. He wasn't Fae, human, or anything from this world at all, it seemed.

The man—creature—laughed, showing off straight white teeth with very large incisors. “Did you know that in Arabian mythology, the Jinn are the third creation of God, after angels and humans? It's said that we're made of smoke and fire, can take human form, and travel between dimensions. And we can be either good or evil, as the mood strikes us.”

Shaking his head, Nick brought himself back to the present and watched the train wreck unfold. Graham had stumbled backward and was staring at the creature who definitely wasn't a human named Scott Morgan.

“Wh-who are you?” Graham stammered.

“Don't you mean
what
?” Jinn's smile was terrifying, his eyes cold.

The vampire shook his head. “Never mind. I
don't care as long as I get my cut for doing my part.”

“Prince Tarron and Princess Calla dead, and control of his coven, correct?” His tone was cool.

“Yes, that was the deal.” Graham gained back a bit of nerve, standing straighter. “And I
have
done my part. I let you know that Calla was going for a walk to the waterfall so your men could move in and take her as bait. I let myself get
stabbed
, for fuck's sake. All your hunters had to do was wait for Tarron and Westfall to come, and wipe them out, and your leader and his morons managed to fuck it up.”

That fucking traitor.
Nick shot Tarron a glance, and the prince appeared ready to rip out Graham's throat.

“You worthless piece of bloodsucking shit,” one of the hunters yelled, surging for him. He was stopped by a flick of Jinn's wrist, frozen in place, blinking angrily.

“So far, your contribution has been abysmally small compared to your demand,” the creature observed. “What you do not understand is that Prince Ivan's power and motivation is much greater than yours. What do you have that he can actually use?”

Ivan . . . Cardenas? Nick looked to Tarron again, who mouthed, “Cardenas is their mysterious leader?”

The light dawned. Cardenas had attended the
planning meeting for the alliance of covens. “Maybe,” Nick whispered back. But what the hell was Cardenas's motive for vengeance that Jinn referred to?

Graham tried to humble himself, backing off a bit. He seemed to be reminded of the slippery slope he was treading as he removed a small device from his jacket pocket. A mini tablet, it appeared. “I have something he'll want. I assure you it will help achieve his aims.”

Tapping quickly on a couple of apps, Graham brought up something for his cohorts to see. Some sort of document, perhaps. Whatever it was couldn't be seen from a distance, but the hunters began to chortle with glee.

“Fuckin' A,” one hooted.

“No shit.”

“You've come through,” Jinn purred. “Send that to Prince Ivan's e-mail right now, and copy me.”

Oh, Graham can't be that stupid.
But he was, and he completely missed the sly smirk Jinn exchanged with the hunters while his head was down, doing as Jinn ordered. When the e-mail was sent, the vampire raised his head.

“There. I've done as you asked. When will Ivan get this done so I can gain control of the coven? I have plans for the world alliance, as well.” Graham's eyes gleamed at the prospect.

Jinn smiled. “Do you? That's too bad, because unfortunately, your plans and my master's are at complete odds.”

“What do you mean? We had a deal!”

“That's what
you
believed.” Jinn laughed. “He was never going to give you control of the coven. He's going to take it and destroy every man, woman, and child as revenge for the murder of his mate. You are no longer of use to him at all.”

Beside Nick, Tarron's expression was thunderous.

“What?” Graham moved back, eyes widening. “I am of use! Haven't I proven that?”

Without answering, Jinn held out a hand. A wisp of smoke floated from his upturned palm, thickening as it floated toward Graham.

“What are you doing?” the vampire choked out.

Those were his last words. The smoke coiled like rope around his throat and tightened. He clawed without effect as he fell to the ground, his fingers merely slipping through the horrible mist that was strangling the life out of him. His face turned red, then purple. His arms went limp at his sides and his eyes stared heavenward as his body shook violently. Then the shakes subsided to an occasional twitch.

And then nothing.

Jinn sauntered over and knelt by the body. Nick wondered what the bastard was doing as he grasped Graham's shirt and ripped it open down the front. When Jinn held up a hand, claws lengthening to lethal razors, he was afraid he knew.

The creature plunged his talons into Graham's chest, splitting his breastbone in two as though slicing butter. He then dug downward, and even from his position Nick could hear the awful slurping sounds the dead vampire's flesh made as Jinn ripped Graham's heart from his chest.

Eagerly, Jinn tore into the organ with his fangs and closed his eyes in ecstasy. The hunters had backed away all the way to their vehicle, revulsion on their faces, and as much as Nick hated them, he couldn't blame them. Jinn ate every last bite of his snack, then wiped his mouth and hands on the tattered remains of the dead vampire's shirt.

“Heart of the fallen,” he said in bliss. “Nothing on this plane or the next tastes better.”

Beside him, Micah made a soft gagging noise. His hand was over his mouth and he looked about two seconds from hurling all over the grass. Nick placed a hand on his shoulder to steady the wolf. The last thing they needed was to be discovered by a creature whose power quite possibly equaled Kalen's.

Jinn scooped up Graham's mini tablet and walked back to the vehicle. In seconds, they were driving away and had disappeared.

“What the fuck
is
that thing?” Tarron asked, his voice colored with horror.

“His name is Jinn,” Nick told the group, a cold chill of fear joining the anger. “At least, that's what
he told me when I met him at your party. He's a demonic paranormal creature, not a Sorcerer. There's not a drop of human blood in his body. He's the equivalent of a trickster who wields powerful black magic, and for some reason he's attached himself to Ivan.”

“Love is blind,” Micah muttered sarcastically. Under any other circumstances, that would've been funny.

“I don't know another Ivan besides Ivan Cardenas, but I can't understand why he'd be after me with such vengeance.” Tarron looked lost. “Revenge for the murder of his mate? In the entirety of my long existence, I've never to my knowledge killed a female.”

They all digested that for a few moments.

Then Micah said, “His mate could've been a man.”

And there it was. The flip of the light switch they needed. The missing motive. Tarron turned and locked eyes with Micah. “Mother of the gods. Carter Darrow.”

Ian cursed. “Maybe. It's just a guess at this point.”

“How could I have missed the fact that Carter was mated?” Tarron wondered aloud. “Why did this not come to light before?”

Nick tried to soothe him because the guilt was already there, in his brother-in-law's voice. “Listen, if that's true, nobody knew it. Carter
obviously kept Ivan in the background, maybe to protect him. Even as evil as he was, the need to protect one's mate transcends everything else.”