"She was in the room when that blackmailing little bastard rang. Personally, I would rather have taken care of him myself."
I bet. "Then the business cards you gave the teenagers were infused with some form of tracking magic?"
"Of course. How else would I have known exactly where to transport myself?"
She gave me a serene sort of smile, then turned away and walked back to the table. I twitched my extremities again, and was relieved to discover that everything that should wriggle did. The mix might be stronger, it might make the tingling fiercer, but it still wasn't completely freezing me. Which made me wonder if the mix was wrong, or whether the fact that I was a half-breed was fouling the reaction.
She returned carrying the knife. I didn't move, just watched her. To have any sort of chance against the woman, I needed her to get closer. Needed to grab that knife and use it against her flesh rather than mine.
She grabbed my right arm and pulled it away from my body. The arm was numb, so it flopped around like so much dead flesh, and she made a satisfied sound in the back of her throat. I held my tongue and didn't say anything, hopefully giving her the impression the powder had done its work and stolen the power of speech.
With my arm positioned on its side and presumably over the bowl, she clasped the ornate silver knife with both hands and raised it above her head.
Fear slithered through me. The mad bitch was going to cut off my arm. Why else would she need that much leverage to cut flesh? A quick slice along the forearm from the wrist was all it took to get a decent bleed-and yeah, werewolves were tough, but we still had skin like a regular human, not a rhinoceros.
She began to murmur, the words incomprehensible. Maybe it was sorcerer talk, maybe it was a prayer in some old language. I didn't really care, because my attention was on the gleaming knife being held above my body. I'd get only one chance at stopping that knife. Once she realized I was partially free, she'd no doubt either knock me out or kill me, and I wasn't overly thrilled with either option.
She continued to murmur and tension wound through me, tightening my muscles and making my stomach ache. The pain in my shoulder seemed to have retreated, but not the numbness. It was now creeping outward, reaching toward my neck. If I didn't remove the bullet soon, I'd be in real trouble.
The words stopped. For a moment that knife didn't move, just stayed high above me, glittering brightly in the semilight of the room.
Then it came down.
Fast.
I barely caught it. Whether it was the dust she'd sprinkled over me or the weakness washing though my body thanks to the silver, the fact was, the blade was inches from my flesh when I stopped it.
And I didn't stop it by the hilt, but by the blade itself, and the metal sliced into my flesh as easily as butter. Blood seeped past my clenched fingers and began to run into the bowl under my right hand. I didn't care. I ripped the weapon from her fingers, flipped the blade, and stabbed her.
But again I was too slow. She moved at the last moment, and the blow meant to pierce her heart got her in the side instead. A nasty wound, but not a deadly one.
She grunted and staggered backward, once again out of my reach. She slapped one hand against the wound, but it didn't stop the bleeding.
"For that," she hissed, "you will die horribly."
She raised her free hand and blue sparks began to dance across her fingertips. I drew back the knife, taking aim, knowing it was a risk to lose my one weapon but having little choice.
But before I could release the blade, something hit the door-hard-and the whole frame shuddered. Hanna spun as the door took another blow, and this time the wood splintered. She lunged for the table, her fingers grasping for the second knife as another blow hit the door, and this time it gave way.
Revealing the man I'd thought dead.
Kye.
He didn't even come into the room, just raised his gun and fired in one smooth motion. The bullet hit Hanna in the forehead and went straight through, splattering the back of her head against the wall behind her.
As her body slumped to the floor, I closed my eyes and sighed in relief. I'd been saved. Maybe not in the manner I'd expected-or by whom I'd expected-but life was life and I wasn't about to grumble.
"Any other problems I should know about?" he said, still standing, gun at the ready, in the doorway.
"Not that I know of. But you're the one sensitive to magic. For all I know, this room could have zombies hidden in the walls as well."
"I can't feel that sort of dark magic, and there's no pentagram on the floor." He lowered the weapon and his gaze met mine. "You look like shit."
I laughed softly and dropped the knife onto the metal tabletop. The clang rang out like a bell as I squeezed my hand shut, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Says the man who's covered in blood and missing a chunk of hair and flesh from the side of his head."
He holstered the weapon and walked toward me. Despite the scent of blood and sweat that lingered on him-or maybe even because of them-he smelled good.
"Silver cuffs?" he said, eyeing the chains intently.
"And a silver bullet in my shoulder. You need to get that out first."
He looked at me, his expression all cool efficiency. "There's only one easy way to do that, I'm afraid."
"There's no easy way to do it, and we both know it."
He gave me a cold smile. "And once again, you're wrong."
"Oh, will you just cut the crap and get on with it?"
"As you wish," he said, as he raised a fist and hit me hard. I was out before I could even swear at the bastard.
When I finally came to, I was in wolf form, which meant the bullet and the cuffs were both gone. The hard metal surface of the tabletop had been replaced by an even harder, colder tiled floor. My fur might have protected me from the chill of it a little better than my human skin, but the ache in my bones suggested I had been lying there for a while.
The air itself was also cold, and ripe with the scent of blood, death, and man-one man, no more. Kye hadn't called in help and I wasn't sure why I thought he might. He was a contract killer. Helping the Directorate and its people in any way, shape, or form would be a consideration only if it suited his own aims. I had no doubt he'd helped me because it was the only way he could get his kill and claim his payment.
And removing the bullet? Well, if he hadn't it might have killed me, and that wouldn't have been good for his health. He had no idea just how much I'd told the Directorate about his involvement in this case, and he was canny enough to suspect they'd come after him if I died.
I opened my eyes. Hanna's body still lay on the floor near the table, looking more fragile in death than she ever had in life.
Kye squatted against the wall opposite, watching me, his expression that of a predator sizing up an adversary. His dark red hair was still matted with blood, as were his clothes, and his face was battered and bruised.
I wanted him. And hated myself for it.
I closed my eyes and reached for my other form. Once the change had swept over my body, I sat upright and hugged my knees close to my chest. His very nearness had awareness tingling across my skin, and I could only thank God the moon heat had passed. Otherwise my crazy hormones might not have been so easy to control.
"I need to call the Directorate in," I said, my voice clipped. "If you don't want to be involved, you'd better leave."
"We need to talk first."
"Kye, there's nothing you and I need to talk about. Nothing."
Especially not the heat that simmered between us, nor the fact that he'd saved my life and I now owed him.
I dropped my gaze from his and concentrated instead on rotating my shoulder, trying to ease the stiffness out of it. At least I could move my arm and fingers again, even if the tips still felt a little numb. Given my sensitivity to silver, it was surprising the aftereffects hadn't lasted a whole lot longer. In fact, I felt amazingly strong, and given the blood I'd lost through the wound, that shouldn't have been the case.