"The walls arevery sandy today," Astraea groans. She sways like a drunken squirrel andtakes one staggering step forward.
"Come on,Princess." With all the blood on her clothes, it's hard to decide where toput my hands. I keep my grip on her waist light, just in case there's internal damage,and lift her out of the remains of the coffee table.
"Bless you, kindsir." She shakes her head, licks her lips. "I did not giveauthorization to have my skull replaced by a drum."
Like ants, witchespour back into the room. A grim-faced Sally reaches for my void. Astraeahuddles against me and whimpers like a pained, scared animal. A pointed growland quick baring of teeth work well to put Sally in her place.
"Take care ofyours, and I'll take care of mine, witch."
I manage to getAstraea to a wingback chair. She slumps forward and twitches at odd intervalswhile I check for broken bones. Her hair is full of glass and streaked pinkwith blood. None of her limbs are broken. Her ribs feel fine, but there's noway to detect internal bleeding.
"Hospital time,Princess."
"No. Notouching." She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her pointed chin onthem. Her eyes don't fix on any one object for more than a second. "Mybones are made of bubble wrap."
"Bubblewrap." I can feel pressure building in the back of my skull. This chick isgoing to get me a one-way ticket to the loony bin before the week is out."We need to check for internal bleeding."
"My spleen isfull of jelly."
If you can't beatthem⦠"Grape or strawberry?"
"Apricot."Astraea's smile is resigned. The fog in her eyes clears momentarily."Thank you."
"Yeah, well,don't get too chipper there, sweetheart. You and I are going to have a longchat about stupid moves and not staying fucking put when you're told."
"Hadda drainher. Spell woulda gone and then she woulda gone boom. Gotta protectthe pack. So you say. Will say. Have said. Whyâs it always seers?
." She jerks as ifjolted by lightning. Sharp white teeth clamp down on her lower lip. "Ohman. Oh man, oh man."
My mind, of course,automatically fills with pictures of massive internal hemorrhaging and innardsflattened like pancakes. She simply presses her hands to her temples and rocksback and forth. Her lips move but not even my sensitive ears can pick up asound.
"What'swrong?"
"I can't holdit. I gotta discharge."
I hope she means amagic discharge and not something that'll make even more of a mess on Sally'sfloor. "Let's go."
She shakes her headand sinks deeper into the chair. If she thinks I won't throw her over myshoulder and haul her out of the house, she doesn't know me very well.
"I wasn'tasking, Princess."
She points atrembling finger at Claire. "Contain her. So many secrets. So much⦠pain.Oh, man. Bad magic. Black. Death." Giddy laughter spills from her splitlips. She slaps a hand across her mouth. "Howling at the moon and foamingat the mouth. Bloody claws and a mouthful of fur.
"
Astraea rises, sways.Bats away my hands when I reach for her. She winds her arms around her waistand shakes like a sapling in a hurricane. "Drained her dry and cut her off,but it's too much. Too much nasty. Too soon." Her bloody hands shoot outto grasp my shirt. Her grip is surprisingly strong. There is almost no lucidityin her eyes. "You gotta keep the secret, Aldric. Gotta keep mum. Ha. Mum.Mummy wrapped in sheets. Pull out the brain through the nose. That's what I'lldo to you. Keep your liver in a jar in the fridge."
Fruitcake. Pity, too.She's not half bad when she's not off her rocker. "I'll call Greta and Ikein to take Claire into custody. Let's get you out of here."
"You don'tlisten." She grins up at me. "Irritant."
"Pot."
All the color leachesout of her face. Even her eyes seem to dim. "Gotta dash. Can't explode inhere. Too many prying eyes. Nosy witches.
Witchy noses."
Naturally, this isthe perfect time for Claire to come to with a loud shriek. The witches yelp andscream in response. Most of the cowards scramble out of the room. Fair-weatherpowerhouses.
Astraea takesadvantage of the chaos drag my face down to hers. Her lips are soft and cool,but her tongue is hot as a poker when it pries my lips open. I only get a momentto savor the sweetness before heavy, boiling waves of magic pour out of her andinto me. My knees wobble. Sparks dance in front of my eyes and the world tiltsa little to the left.
It's a hell of afirst kiss.
By the time I recoverfrom the mystical overload, Astraea is gone. So is my phone. Fine. She wants torun off and get herself killed? Screw her. The Mage can have his money back.It's not worth the hassle.
Besides, Clairedoesn't seem to be too happy to be missing her magic. Ashen and bloody, shetries to look menacing but only comes across as pathetic. I'd feel sorry forher, but the blood under her fingernails belongs to someone I⦠tolerate.
"Where isAz?" Sally inquires once I have Claire cuffed and cowed on a spindlychair.
"Don't know.Don't care." The magic Astraea forced on me zips through my veins likeelectricity. I was born a Shifter; this is the first time I've felt close toinvoluntarily changing. Every sense has been heightened to the point of pain.It's fascinating and fucking frightening.
"I would like toknow what incantation she used to drain Claire so quickly. I would like accessto the stored energy, as well. There's no sense in letting good magic go towaste."
And that is a primeexample of why I hate witches. They don't give a damn that one of their ownjust tried to kill me. All they care about is the energy. The power. Selfishbitches.
"Do you reallythink anything inside that," I say, gesturing at a scowling Claire,"is good magic?"
"Evil intentdoes not necessarily indicate that the magic itself is evil."
"It'sevil." It has to be. Why else would it be driving me insane? Itching.Clawing at my insides. Urging to me to Shift. To lose all rational thought andchange in the middle of the coven's living room. Tear into tender flesh andfeast on witches andâ¦
. Back the boat up. My control's good.Damn good. To keep my position as Alpha, it has to be. As a wolf, I've onlykilled people in the heat of battle or when challenged. I usually limit mydining options to deer, more deer, and the occasional rabbit.
I don't want Clairein my truck. Not when I'm one wrong breath away from Shifting. FortunatelyDetective Dave Greer, my usual connection at the HPD, answers when I call. TheHPD and I have an arrangement that's served us well for years. They call me in,at a special discount, for cases they can't handle, and in return I keep packbusiness from involving civilians. I'm working on a similar arrangement withthe Harris County Sheriff's Department.
Two hours later, Ileave the HPD precinct with a pocketful of coven cash and a set of empty cuffs.The magic buzz has died down to a dull roar, proving that a shit-ton ofpaperwork is boring enough to be fatal.
My jeans and shirtare covered with dried blood. There's glass in my left boot. I want nothingmore than to shower, eat a steak or four, and zone out in front of whateverfootball game I can find. It's only one in the afternoon, but I'm done for theday. I don't want to see anything more magical than a dream for the nexttwenty-four hours.
Spotting Ike pacingthe length of the front porch is a clear indication that I'm not going to getwhat I want. His guilt is so potent I can smell it from the driveway. He stopswhen he sees me, drops his head as a sign of submission.
Good fox, but itwon't get you out of the doghouse. "What did you do?"
"Greta's nothere."
"Unless sheplans on hitting the Galleria with the pack credit card, I don't give a shitwhat she does on her days off."
Ike swallows. Hekeeps his eyes on my boots. "She got a call, packed a bag, and droveoff."
Princess. Of course.The psycho couldn't trust me to take care of her, but she had no problemstealing my phone and my pack member. I ignore the pang of hurt and focus onthe anger. "Fine. Whatever."
Ike doesn't budge.He's a fleshy roadblock. A fleshy roadblock that's about to be flattened. Mygrowl causes him to flinch. His shoulders slump even more.
"Jose wants tofix up the spare bedroom next to yours for Astraea. It's all he's talked aboutsince breakfast. Since she's not with you, I figure that whatever Greta's doinginvolves her."
"Yeah."
Ike shifts agitatedly.His nose twitches. "Is she coming back? Jose and I already cleared out theroom. He's at Home Depot picking out paint. He's been real excited about this.Since that incident with the jaguar last month, he's been⦠you know. It's goodto see him happy."
Which means I'm goingto be the bad guy who bursts Jose's bubble when I tell him that his new bestie isgone. Which means we'll be stuck with a moping, weepy ocelot for theforeseeable future. Jose's the pack baker, so it also means another monthwithout chocolate cake, cookies, or any homemade sweets.
The pack acceptedAstraea with a keenness that, had I not expected it, would have been cause foralarm. Any other pack would have rejected a non-Shifter, but my pack is made upof strays. Outsiders. Most of them have been abused at one time or another. Theyknow what itâs like to not fit in anywhere. To need a family. Iâm not surprisedthey recognized a kindred spirit in Princess. She has no animal inside her, butshe has the same wounds and holes we carry. Weâre all broken in one way oranother.
Besides, they need asister. Gretaâs better suited for the disciplinarian beta role. Astraea had taken the time to talk to eachpack member during her brief time with us. As a lot of non-Shifters are wary ofus, if not outright discriminatory, that meant something. Even if most of whatsheâd said had been nonsensical.
"Fine." Idrag my fingers through my dark hair. Get them caught on dried blood and beadsof glass. Of course. "Paint the damn room. Let him turn it into a Peptoexplosion. We'll use it as a guest room."
I get my shower. Anda steak. I don't get the football. Greta, acting the perfectly submissive fox,appears in the doorway before I can rinse off my plate. She slides the phoneacross the kitchen table and takes a chair three spots away from mine. Smartgirl.
"Where isshe?"
"Galveston.She's at the beach house."
"She'll burn thedamn thing to the ground."
"She was passedout in bed when I left. I made sure to bring all the weapons with me. Sheseemed to have regained some measure of control." Greta fishes somethingout of her pocket and tosses it at me. "She wanted me to give this toyou."
is four sheets of printer paper foldedup in a complicated series of triangles. Unfolding and smoothing the pagesrequires more patience than I gave myself credit for possessing. The wordswritten on the page might as well be written in another language. The lettersare tiny and run together. I can make out a few words, but not enough to be ofany use.
"Did she sayanything?"
Greta shrugs."Kept mumbling about the pack and about wolves. Test tube Shifters? I haveto be honest, I tuned out when she was talking."
"Probably for thebest." I meet her worried gaze. She's still waiting for punishment. Timeto kill two pains in the ass with one furry stone. "Jose's turning thespare room into a pretty princess castle. Supervise."
Greta groans, dragsher feet on the way out of the kitchen. She pauses on the threshold. "Ipicked up a burner phone for Astraea and programmed the number in yourphone."
"Why the fuckshould I care?"
Her shoulders shake.Amusement drips from her voice. "Sure. Whatever you say, boss."
While my steakdigests, I take another look at Astraea's pages o'crazy. Most of the first twopages have to do with Claire and the herbs that were stolen. In the middle ofthe third page, crammed between a sentence about cream cakes and a questionabout the flammability of seashells, is a familiar name. Kassiopa Taylor.
Maybe it's a hint.Could be residual seer magic seeping through. An apology of sorts. I should hitKassie up again to see if she'll give me a second chance. The worst thing shecan do is say no.
No, really, that is theworst thing she can do. Her voice is nails on a chalkboard at jackhammerdecibels.
When I call, Kassiopaoozes coy sternness. She chastises me for cancelling on her, but doesn't say noto dinner. I have to promise six times not to cancel again, which is anannoying, but small, price to pay for a shot of seeing her tassels.
I let her pick therestaurant. Big mistake. I hate jazz and 'small plates' and designer food. If Iwant an appetizer-sized portion, I'll fucking order an appetizer. When I orderan entree, I want a plate full of food. Especially if I'm paying thirty bucksfor it.
Seriously? Who takesa Shifter out for tapas?
After thedinner-that-never ends and never satisfies, and some quality time on Kassiopa'sleather couch, I finally get to see the tassels. They are everything they werehyped to be and more.
Except, it's the morethat turns my dream date into a nightmare. Any date that ends with a trip tothe hospital the HPD precinct is sure to be a last date. Gretamanages to hold in her laughter as she drives me home, which means that shegets to continue living for another day. My cell phone doesn't survive the triphome because of a text message that simply reads, "Told you so."
Home, showered and inbed, I finally make out what Astraea wrote after Kassie's name. It's enough tomake me want to bash my head against the wall. Damned half-psychic nutjobvoids.