Chapter Eight #2
“At first, yeah. Then they’ll find I agree with your mother on the need for them to quit treating their people like shit.
If they got pissy after that, I could demonstrate the consequences of pissing off a demigoddess and shut them right the fuck up.
” I gave him my best feline smile. “I’ve dreamed of cutting loose on cruel, arrogant fairy motherfuckers since I was, oh… six.”
He studied me, dark brows lifting. “That sounds awfully sincere.”
“I grew up surrounded by the sons of Sidhe nobles who got sucked into Mom’s psychotic orbit. They beat and threatened me the way thugs kick a puppy. So yeah, I’d love to get some of my own back.”
The humor drained from his face. “Iona…”
I held up a hand to stop him. “It’s been half a century, and anyway Conal Donovan got me out while my grandmother dueled Mom to a standstill. Siobhan is the real curse. I really would love to kill that bitch.”
His eyes widened. Too late, I remembered his mother was Diana Galatyn, who loved him like a sitcom mom. He’d never understand my hatred for my abusive egg donor.
For a moment, I felt a wave of exhaustion and despair. Maybe this couldn’t work, not because I couldn’t accept him, but because he couldn’t accept me. The life I’d lived as a child was beyond his imagination.
But before I could figure out a way to confront the issue, my cellphone began playing the Mission Impossible theme. “Oh, Eggshells, that’s the department’s ringtone.” I rummaged around until I found the cell clipped to my duty belt. “What?”
“Chief, we’ve got trouble.” It was Jimar Houston, one of the Charlie shift werewolves.
Houston was normally a laid-back cop, being a Marine veteran who’d seen some shit in Afghanistan.
He sounded spooked now. “We found a production assistant lying in the back parking lot of Summerwood Spells and Potions. Every bone in her body is broken, and it looks like something ripped out her intestines.”
My gaze flew instantly to Dearg, whose werewolf hearing had picked up every word Houston had said.
Magic exploded around him, leaving him in Dire Wolf form, the belt of Dragon’s Breath fastened around his furry waist. Which, given he hadn’t been wearing it, was an indicator of how serious the situation was.
“We’ll be there in two minutes. Call the mayor.” I gestured, spinning my uniform over my body with a wave of magic.
* * *
Dearg
I paced around Iona as she crouched, examining the body.
My senses, magical and otherwise, were on alert as I sampled the air for the killer’s scent.
The sky overhead was cloudless, without so much as a griffin feather in sight.
I didn’t trust that starry expanse worth a damn.
Respen could strike from anywhere, given his abilities, and Iona could die before I even knew he was there.
The thought sent a cold shaft of fear lancing through me.
Somehow Iona Anann had punched right through my every self-protective shield. I’d fallen for her like a bird tumbling out of the nest. Now I had zero desire to protect myself from her. I’d finally found a woman who could be trusted.
All I had to do was keep her alive.
The mayor stood guard over us all in human form, looking cool and professional in her dark blue power suit. Jimar Houston, a tall, graying, dark-skinned werewolf, waited patiently next to her.
Iona knelt with one hand spread over Claire Vilatte’s body as she scanned for the assassin’s magic.
As usual, I didn’t smell the killer. God, it was frustrating.
To make matters worse, the mere sight of Claire’s corpse made my fists clench with the need to hit something.
She’d been murdered the same way Iona had in my vision -- crushed, her stomach ripped out.
It was enraging -- even more so when I realized it could have been Iona lying there.
“When I get my hands on that bastard, I’m going to gut him and eat his intestines in front of him -- while he’s still alive. ”
“I like the way you think,” Vildra told me, scanning the scene as intently as I was.
She was close to shifting, a fine tracery of scales visible along any skin that showed, shining iridescent and pale in the moonlight.
“Though you’re assuming you’ll get to him before I do.
” Her lips rolled back from a menacing mouthful of very sharp teeth.
“He’s preying on my people and I don’t like it.
” Dragons were notoriously possessive, and the mayor obviously considered Summerwood hers, along with everyone in it.
Including Iona. At the moment, though, that was a good thing.
“But what’s the point?” Iona asked, sounding as frustrated as I felt. “Why kill a mortal girl? It’s not like Respen can feed on her magic -- she doesn’t have any, and he can’t wear her face because we know she’s dead.”
“Bait for the first responders.” The mayor’s tone was as flat as her expression.
“Glad I’m not the only one who noticed.” I tossed another uneasy glance at the sky.
“It is pretty damn obvious.” Iona sounded absent-minded as she snapped another photo of the body.
The SPD was too small for a dedicated evidence investigator -- Summerwood just didn’t have that much violent crime.
“As soon as I finish documenting the scene and collecting the trace evidence, we’ll take the body and go. ”
“I’ve got a better idea -- let’s go now.” I started toward her as my self-control finally snapped. “You’d look like a field mouse to that griffin, standing around waiting to be eaten. I don’t want him punching that beak into you too.”
“The Big Bad Wolf’s got a point, Iona.” The mayor scanned the sky. “I don’t see the bastard, but he could be lurking behind an invisi --”
I was focused on Iona as she took another photo of the victim. Which is why I saw the Respen griffin materialize less than a dozen feet behind her, shooting toward her like a feathered rocket.
My heart shot into my throat, but before I could yell a warning, the huge creature slammed into Iona, snatching her off the ground as the camera went flying. She didn’t make a sound as her body went limp and the elephant-sized beast soared skyward.
“Vildraaaaa!” I shouted in despair and fury, shifting to timber wolf and bounding into a run, faster on four feet than two as I chased Respen.
The mayor had already leapt skyward, transforming back into dragon form and blasting after the griffin.
I raced in pursuit. I knew they were far too high for me to catch, but it didn’t make a damn bit of a difference. I’ve got to get to her before the fucker…
The griffin glanced back over his shoulder, saw Vildra closing in, and folded his wings to dive, apparently hoping the dragon’s huge size wouldn’t allow her to skim as close to the ground as he could.
I chased him with everything I had, my Mark lending me the strength and speed to close the distance.
Demon winds, I can’t lose her, I can’t lose he…
A gate appeared in a spinning cloud of magic just ahead of the beast.
No!
I didn’t even hesitate. A split second after the griffin flashed through it carrying Iona, I shot in after him, knowing I was taking a hell of a chance. I could end up cut in two if Respen closed the gate before I made it out.
But I couldn’t just let him carry Iona away and murder her. Not with the vision playing in my head -- the sight of Iona being crushed and ripped apart. Not Iona. Not the woman I loved more than life itself. The demon winds would freeze first. If I died trying to save her, so be it.
* * *
Vildra
Roaring in frustrated rage, I raced after the tip of Dearg’s fluffy tail as it disappeared through the gate, braking just before I could follow him through. As desperate as I was to rescue my best friend, I knew that gate wouldn’t be able to handle eight tons of dragon.
I landed, casting a desperate spell to sense the gate’s destination, but it was already too late. “Demon fucking winds!”
Jimar raced up to join me as I stared at the space where the gate had been. He looked up at me. “Did the prince just commit suicide?”
“I have no idea, but the odds aren’t good.” I assumed my human form and tried to decide what to do now. “Goddamn romantic idiot. I hope I’m not going to have to tell Ll?r his kid just killed himself right in front of me while I couldn’t do a damn thing.”
* * *
Dearg
To my amazement I made it through the gate in one piece, hit marble floor and transformed to Dire Wolf.
I leaped, landing on the griffin’s back as he came in for a landing.
Locking my clawed toes in his back to steady myself, I drew back Dragon’s Breath, meaning to chop off the bastard’s head.
Yes, yes, yes! The sword hissed, eager for blood.
But not as eager as I was.
Watch out! Breath screeched, and I ducked.
A flaming ball of hell shot past over my head. I snapped my head around.
“This is no business of yours, king’s brat!” Siobhan stood in front of the gaudiest throne I’d ever seen, fists clenched, face contorted with rage. I could barely see her resemblance to Iona -- if Iona had been a raving lunatic.
The griffin’s feathered back vanished from beneath my feet. I hit the ground hard and tumbled as I’d been trained, spending the momentum until I rolled smoothly to my feet again.
Iona lay in a heap on the marble floor. I lunged toward her. I’ve got to get her out of here!
“You just don’t know when to stop, do you, dog?” Respen had transformed into Baareo, apparently realizing that big as Siobhan’s throne room was, it wasn’t big enough for a griffin to fight a werewolf from the air.
I spun toward him as he charged, hooves clattering on the marble floor. Ducking his axe swing, I simultaneously flipped a shield spell over Iona. It would release her when she woke up, but it would keep her psychotic mother away while I handled the ‘taur.
Respen reared, trying to smash me like a grape. I danced back as he hit the floor, marble cracking under his hooves, his face twisted in rage. Demon Winds, he’s big.