I was ready to throw up again. Where’d that bag go …
Menessos awoke. After a moment of adjustment, the sense of completeness filled me, and took the edge off my pain. I abandoned the interior bag search. Peering out the rear window I saw the driver of the car with the offensive lights.
Johnny.
The local wæres formed a line to the side of the Audi Johnny had driven. The car gave them some cover from any prying eyes of passersby. Drivers wouldn’t think much of cars stopped here, and the presence of a limo would likely offset the oddness of suited tough guys standing around in the garden.
Gregor opened the door and the Rege slid out with a grace not unlike Menessos’s. He stepped forward and the door slammed before I could exit. Another guard came to stand at the door to the other side. I was reduced to watching out the window like a kid.
“Where is she?” Johnny demanded.
The Rege used his thumb to point at the limo. “Inside.” He tilted his head, assessing Johnny. “Gregor documented his wounds. They were quite nasty.”
Johnny held up his fists. “If you’re after a matching set of your own, I’ve got ’em right here.”
The Omori all growled and moved half-steps forward. “Never insult your Rege!” Gregor snarled.
The Rege stopped Gregor with a gesture.
“You’re the Domn Lup?”
“I am.”
“Prove it.”
“Give me the witch first.” There was an edge to Johnny’s voice. I heard it even through the glass.
The Rege hadn’t missed it, either. “Why?”
“Why not?”
He shrugged nonchalantly like a man who knew he had the advantage. “Are you sure you want damaged goods?”
I hadn’t expected he would play his hand so soon.
Johnny shifted his weight, tensing. “What did you do?”
The Rege spread his arms. “I entertained her.”
I thought for certain Johnny would go into an all-out transformation. But he didn’t. His chin lowered. “Show her to me, or I’ll tear you apart.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“What I did to him,” he indicated Gregor, “was restrained.”
“I’d say she’s faired marginally better. But not by much.”
Either he was trying to instigate Johnny to change, or male pissing contests had just been taken to a new level.
The good thing was that everyone was focused on the two of them. Inside the limo, I was sitting right next to the door. Twisting, I put my feet against the door, levered the handle, and kicked out with all my might.
The rearmost edge of the door caught the Rege in the small of his back, scraping him and sending him forward.
Gregor reacted. He reached for the door, but the window hit his knuckles hard; it forced his arm back and left him to be broadsided by the door—right in the balls. He doubled over.
As I shot between them, Gregor grabbed my leg. I fell flat, elbows hitting hard and my bound hands flapped out before me. In a heartbeat Johnny was there, helping me up.
“Leave her,” the Rege snapped.
Johnny stilled. I craned my neck to see why.
While Johnny had bent to help me, the Rege recovered and drew a knife from somewhere. He held it against Johnny’s throat.
“Sharing power with you isn’t in my plan, boy.”
“My whole pack knows about me.”
The Rege shrugged; it made Johnny suck air through his teeth. A thin line of blood appeared where his skin and the blade edge met. “The Omori are very good at what they do.”
Johnny wouldn’t give in. “So is my pack.”
“Ha! Welders. Construction workers. Movers. What do they know of being hunted?”
No one was paying much attention to me. I was on the ground and therefore helpless. But if I could draw attention to me, Johnny might get a shot at getting out of his predicament. “He underestimates everyone, Johnny. It’s his personal flaw.”
The instant my voice distracted the Rege, Johnny threw himself backward, kicking up his feet. Johnny’s foot strike drove the Rege’s arm upward, and the knife sailed into the air. The Rege lost his balance, pitching forward onto his knees.
Johnny’s flip left him neatly crouched.
The dagger thunked into the ground between them.
Johnny snatched it and stood, glowering down at the Rege.
Gregor put his foot on the back of my head and applied pressure to my lump. I screamed. Grass and leaves got in my mouth. All I wanted to do was keep him from grinding his heel on my head.
Reaching behind my head, I groped up his shoe and under his pant leg, I clawed down Gregor’s sock and dug my nails into his skin as I screamed again.
Once, I had pulled power from Menessos. Being bound to me, he fed on my energy and I had been able to call that power back to me. But through him, I’d also pulled from Goliath. While Gregor didn’t have any power of mine to call, his power was pooling on the surface of his aura.
I drew on that power; I yanked on it. The earth roiled under me and it seemed I became a geyser of fiery acid ready to erupt.
Suddenly, Gregor wasn’t accosting me anymore.
Wiping grass from my mouth, I rolled over. He was scurrying, crablike, away from me. “She tried to make me change!” he shouted.
I was mad enough—and hurt enough—to spit nails now. I got my feet under me and shouted back, “I did not! If I’d meant to do that you wouldn’t be in man form right now,” I said, stalking toward him. “What I did was remind you of what I can do.” I kept advancing. He twisted to get his feet under him, trying to run even though he wasn’t up and balanced yet.
The big, brawny Omori retreated before me, drawing their guns.
I heard Johnny laugh. “Those pussies are your brave Omori?”
I stopped and turned to face him.
“Greg there said we Americans were weak … right before I kicked his ass.” He shook his head at the Rege. “Fuck. You guys are clueless.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
I strode toward Johnny as he told the Rege, who was still on his knees, “Tell your pups to put their guns in a pile on the ground. Now.”
The Rege made a gesture of conciliation. Metal clacked on metal as the guns were dropped. Johnny motioned to Todd and Kirk, who patted the Omori down and collected the weaponry.
Johnny untied me and took my face in his hands to give me an inspection. Johnny’s touch was so light, so warm, I didn’t want it to stop, even when his thumb stroked my cheek. I flinched; being walloped twice today by the Rege had left me bruised.
His rigid posture yielded to embrace me. Emotion radiated off him. His face filled with relief and protectiveness. He understood how I’d felt when he disappeared under the Lake Erie surface.
“You were skipping your intro with the Rege?”
“Max was murdered, you were missing. Kind of took priority.”
“She’s not just a witch to you,” the Rege said disgustedly.
“Deal with it,” Johnny growled.
The Rege rose up onto his knees. “I left my mark on her insides.”
Johnny jerked away. I grabbed his arm—his skin darkened under my grip and fur pushed up between my fingers. Claws sprouted from his fingertips as I watched. His breath rasped harshly and he leaned threateningly over the Rege. “No,” I said. “He didn’t.”
“Yes, I did!”
“Do you remember it? In detail?”
Uncertainty clouded his features.
“He thinks he did,” I said to Johnny, “but he didn’t.”
The Rege’s confusion was replaced with vehemence. He spat at our feet. “You used magic on me?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t even deign to acknowledge that he’d spoken to me.
Todd and Kirk returned to our side with the weapons, and passed them out to their own people. Kirk ordered, “Keep them handy, but out of sight. We don’t want the police crashing our little shindig.” Chris LaCroix was on our side. That was interesting. Kirk didn’t offer him a gun.