“What substance?” Cyrus demanded, shifting Grayshadow’s attention back to where I least wanted it to be.
“Fey wine,” I said, scowling at him. “It brings out all sorts of latent talents.”
“It also drives people mad,” Cyrus pointed out, glaring right back. He must have guessed how close to bottoming out I was, or maybe he was picking up on my thoughts as I’d done his. Damn it, Lia! Get out of here!
The words rang in my head as loudly as if he’d spoken them. How the hell did you do that? I demanded, but got only a scowl in return.
“The weak-minded, perhaps,” Grayshadow was saying, with the arrogance of all addicts. “It will weed out the feeble among us, enhance the power of the strong and make us invincible!”
“And subject you to the whims of your suppliers,” I pointed out again, trying to calculate how long it would take Jamie and Caleb to find us. Too long, echoed in my mind. I wasn’t sure if it was my thought or Cyrus’s, but either way, it was likely correct.
“The Fey are weak. They fight amongst themselves too much to be anything else.”
“And we don’t?” Cyrus demanded, pulling those flat, silver eyes back to him.
“Once Sebastian and his human sympathies no longer divide us, that will cease to be a problem.”
“Good plan,” I said. “Unfortunately, there will be a dozen war mages here in a couple minutes to drag you off to face charges ranging from kidnapping to murder.”
It was a lie, because I doubted Jamie and Caleb had the bars underground to call for backup, even if they’d managed to avoid getting their phones drowned. But there was no way for Grayshadow to know that. And if he got spooked enough, maybe he’d decide that a discredited war mage and an outcast who nobody would believe weren’t worth the trouble.
“I answer to wolf law,” Grayshadow told me haughtily, before glancing around like he expected my backup to come crawling out of a drainage ditch. Which, okay, fair enough.
“Wolf law takes a dim view of those who kill Clan.”
“This one is vargulf,” Grayshadow said, glancing scornfully at Cyrus. “No one cares what happens to him. Not even his own brother!”
“And White Sun? Last time I checked, he wasn’t vargulf. And you had at least three other victims, two more of which were High Clan wolves!”
“None of which can be linked to me once you’re dead!”
The final volley came fast and hard, my shields collapsed, and blood made a dark gash across the ground. I waited for pain and worse—and was still waiting when the smoke dissipated. I saw Grayshadow writhing on the ground, his coat half melted to his skin, one arm and shoulder a livid mass of black leather and red meat.
I glanced behind me, because no way had I done that, but there was no one. And then there was no time to worry about it, because Grayshadow stumbled back to his feet, snarling. I stared back at him, my hands hanging limp and nerveless at my sides, like they were attached with string. I was going to die, I thought blankly.
Then Grayshadow took off, clutching his ruined arm.
I watched him blankly for a second, until the pelting rain hid him from view. And then my knees gave out and I hit the muddy concrete, stunned and dizzy. Cyrus was staring at me, looking equally bewildered as I crawled over to him. He didn’t change back—he probably didn’t have the energy—but it didn’t matter. As soon as I laid my head against the silkiness of wolf fur, the hard ball of panic in my chest shrank until I could almost ignore it. I took the opportunity to breathe deeply for the first time that day.
Someone fumbled a hand over to grab mine, holding it so tightly that my fingers throbbed with both pulses. And I looked up into Cyrus’s whiskey dark eyes. It seemed he’d had the strength to change, after all. “You okay?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure why,” I told him.
His nod of agreement was a ripple of shadow. “What the hell just happened?”
I felt something on my arm and looked down to see the dragon tat, frozen in place with a superior look on its tiny face. And something Caleb had said came back to me. “I think somebody decided to change sides.”
“What?”
I held up my wrist. “It came off a dark mage, but it chose to help us out.”
Cyrus looked at me strangely as he tried to heave himself to his feet. He slipped on his own blood and went down to one knee. “Lia. Wards don’t think.”
“Depends on the ward,” I said, and stunned him.
A few minutes later, Jamie’s head poked over the side of the channel, red-gray curls plastered to his skull. Caleb followed him out, both looking like hell but still standing. Jamie limped over and looked from the numb stick in my hand to Cyrus’s slumped form. “Isn’t that your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
He frowned. “He won’t be out long. That isn’t strong enough to incapacitate a Were, even an injured one.”
I dragged myself to my feet, stiff and soaked. “So take him in.”
“On what charge?”
“Suspicion of…something.”
“Suspicion of something? I don’t think that’s on the books.”
“Just give him to Michaelson to process once the docs get through. It’ll take at least a couple hours.”
“And what are you going to do in the meantime?”
“Something stupid.”
Chapter 12
Two huge Weres in wolf form guarded the almost invisible path that served as an entrance to the meeting place of the Clan Council. One of them moved to intercept me, changing fluidly from Were to human without so much as missing a step. His ebony skin gleamed in the light of a torch that had been wedged into a crack in the wall behind him. A lantern would have been a more practical choice, or nothing at all since I was the only one here without decent night vision. I assumed it was for ambiance.
It did add to the overall mystery of the place, not that it needed it. A sheer rock face rose five or six stories high, striated in uneven bands of cinnamon and gold. It wasn’t raining here, and the black, clear sky with its pinprick stars and the sighing wind sliding over the cliff was beautiful and more than a little eerie.
The guard was doing his best to add to the effect. His skin melted into the night, leaving only the rippling muscles of his chest visible in the torchlight. His dark eyes gleamed, pricked with reflected flame. He might have been a creature out of legend, some mythical god of the desert.
And then he ruined it. He looked me over and one eyebrow went up. “Bad day?”
My clothes were streaked with mud, cobwebs and runoff, I smelled absolutely foul, and I had at least three pebbles in my boot courtesy of the hike here from my bike. I was in no mood to exchange banter with a naked guard. “Lia de Croissets, of Arnou.”
“I know who you are.” A slight smile crept over his face. “I thought you’d be taller.”
If he’d treated my mother that way, she’d have ripped his face off. “Are you issuing a challenge?” I snapped.
His eyes widened fractionally. “No, I—”
“Then get the hell out of my way!”
I brushed past him and through the entrance, an oblong gash in the rock. The sides of the passage were inches from my fingertips, with no way out except straight ahead. It was the perfect place for an ambush should any unwanted visitors be stupid enough to try to enter. I hadn’t asked Caleb and Jamie to back me up, because they’d have never made it past the guards. And Cyrus would have been killed on sight for daring to sully with his presence a place meant only for Clan.
Once Grayshadow passed into these walls, no one but another Clan member could touch him. So this was my fight. And, as exhausted as I was, I was glad of it. Some war mages specialized in the hunt, painstakingly piecing together clues, interviewing suspects, gathering evidence. I was a competent investigator, but I’d never pretended to enjoy it. I’d take a direct confrontation any day.