The Countdown
ROGUE
The ‘stage’ explodes with a choreographed burst of lights, sound, and smoke, making me blanch in surprise.
This isn’t a fucking rock concert, and I have no idea why they’d want to startle an army of supes milling around with both enemies and friends.
Responses around us range from ‘prepared for battle’ to ‘cringing with pain’ as the spectacle continues without missing a beat.
My guys automatically step into what I assume is now their formation, encircling me like some incapable damsel, but I hold my tongue.
I can’t blame them for being riled with that bullshit going on—it could be a distraction planned to cover many nefarious deeds.
“This is stupid,” Javier mutters from his spot on the right. “And I say that coming from a family that sets the luncheon table with full European silver service to this day.”
Snorting, I turn to give him an amused look. “Every time I forget how pampered you’ve been, you say shit like that and I cannot believe you’re as normal as you are.”
“Normal’s relative, Wheels. Javi’s still the fussiest of the group,” Archie retorts from the seven o’clock position. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t love him.”
“Aw, Arch.” The lash batting purr makes me giggle and the tension I felt after the big televised wrestling opening number recedes. “You’ll make me blush.”
Rebel turns around, giving us all a stern expression as he grits his teeth. “Pay attention. That was only the opening salvo; people will enter now. We have to keep track of who belongs to what for later on.”
He means me, of course, because my memory for visual input is stellar.
We all face the stage again, taking in the spotlights moving side-to-side and the smoke swirling around the proscenium.
When the music dies down slightly, a loud, hokey announcer says, “Welllcommmme to the third Apalachin of the year, everyone! The leaders of the factions are pleased to host their loyal employees and members, plus any honored guests, vendors, and observers from the other realms.”
I suck in a deep breath, realizing this is less like a mafia-style conclave than I thought.
The pageantry and breadth of the event is amazing given the short timeframe for setup, and knowing they hold these fairly frequently is concerning.
My eyes cut to Angelo, who is frowning in front of me as he watches this bullshit.
It seems like he’s not familiar with this format and that tells me something major has changed from the last one he knew of and now.
Is that because of the mysterious entities who created the pocket dimension thing his father popped off to?
Too many questions and not a single fucking answer so far; I don’t like it.
“Now, to bring out your hosts.” The voice pauses for effect and I roll my eyes. “The CEO of Roadrunner Racing, the menacing matron of the mafia… Merrrrrrraaaa Stuhhllllllll!”
Two thoughts fill my brain, overwhelming my ability to keep my face from showing my emotions: one, if this dude doesn’t stop that WWE shit, I’m going to lose it and two, what the actual fuck is going on here?
Merra Stuhll is striding out onto the stage, waving like the Queen of England as her tiny legs carry her across the stage.
Fennec foxes are small, and she’s taller as a shifter, but even with her high heels and long line suit, it’s obvious that she’s not physically intimidating.
That doesn’t matter, though, because the sharp-toothed smirk and the glitter of evil in her eyes are enough to make the average supe quake in their boots.
Everyone knows this woman will have you chopped up into bits for looking at her wrong, then serve her crew the leftovers in a chili.
“If anyone could be near her, it wouldn’t be hard to take her out within seconds,” Reb mutters. “No wonder she’s always surrounded by that loser she married and a crew built like brick fucking houses. She might be fast and handy with a weapon, but Merra Stuhll is vulnerable in person.”
Archie puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing before he replies, “Which is why she has to have her dirty work done by others. She’s not a threat in person, other than retribution from her goons.
Mina and the Sickos were chosen to not only send a message, but to distract us.
I see it now, guys. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s this…
shifter sense that helps your animal make primal decisions.
My lion is writing this woman off as we speak—he thinks she’s weak. ”
“Of course he does, babe. He’s a lion, and that’s a miniature fox,” Damon chuckles. “I’d be disappointed if he didn’t write her off.”
My handsome jock rumbles in frustration as he thinks.
“No, it’s not just about a fight, per se.
It’s… maybe it’s the alpha-esque dominance thing?
Like, she’s all hat, no cattle, as the saying goes.
With her minions, she can appear powerful and vicious, like many psychopaths.
But my lion knows that deep down, she’s weak in body and mind.
Her behavior is cultivated to cover her deep flaws, and he’s dismissing her. ”
As Merra rounds the long ass table, I note where she’s been seated.
She’s a big deal in Bay City; as big as the Council or the Shifters Coalition, but her place is closer to the wings of stage right than to the podium.
I don’t know if that’s because she’s been downgraded in the criminal infrastructure or if that reflects how powerful the people before her are.
The implication is worrisome, at best.
“And now, our honored guest from Faerie, Julien Goldendash. Fiancé to the Midnight Court royal, Princess Celestine, and born of lineage to the royal security services for the Harvest Court. Our hosts welcome our shadowy trade facilitator, who makes fulfilling your Faerie needs possible!”
Reb’s head swivels, looking back to catch my gaze with shock.
The Council has been trying to impose sanctions on black market traders from Faerie for as long as we can remember—including those who deal in people.
Reck, Reb, and I are victims of that supe trafficking, and the fucker helping them do it is next to two royal families.
No wonder he’s able to help smugglers get children, drugs, weapons, and more through the restricted portals.
Hearing his family business, I know immediately where the goods are coming through—Harvest.
“Not now, sis,” Reb mutters. “That asshole has it coming, but we can’t do it now. I promise you we’ll circle back, though. He deserves to be thoroughly interrogated by our bosses in the most painful way.”
“No shit.” My reply is harsh, but as much as Graciella and Odhran were neglectful and occasionally physical, they weren’t the worst supes to adopt through this kind of shady shit.
And like Reckoning, some have gone missing, some have been killed, and many are fucked up for life.
“Put him on our ‘blood debt’ list, but let me fantasize about helping to peel him like a banana, okay?”
That makes Angelo and Damon rumble with excitement and the other two look at me with wide eyes.
I don’t have to turn to see their expressions; Javi and Archie are less familiar with my dark side than my stepbrother.
The demon recognizes soul scarring, plus they saw me squash the trolls, so they’re up to speed.
I don’t think my shifters will mind, but their reactions to my most vicious thoughts are amusing.
Pretty boys with gentle hearts are fun to be in charge of, after all.
The announcer moves on, introducing Axel Finn from the Sons of the Seven Seas, a mage named Thornberry from the Eternal Shadows, and a dark vampire from the Sanguine Blade.
Those are all fairly well known ‘bad guy’ groups in the city, so I tuck their presence away in my expected column.
I don’t move as I mentally murmur to Rebel ~Think that Julien guy is their Hand of Morrigan rep? ~
~Without a doubt.~
Sighing, I watch the three criminals find their seats, chewing on my lower lip as the outer locations fill and we head towards the middle. The podium is definitely their ‘center’ and they’re telling the crowd where all the groups stand in the broader rankings.
“Gracing us with their presence… Lady Volkov and our l’Augere partner, Baulaur Fl?c?re. Other than our honored guests and hosts who have crossed realms to be here, they are the ones who traveled the longest distances from the shores of South America and the mountains of eastern Europe.”
“Who the fuck is the Lady chick?” Angelo mutters as he frowns. “They didn’t attach an organization, nor did they say what the hell she’s doing here. I don’t like that in the slightest.”
Damon shifts at my back as he replies, “I dislike that our fucking father is obviously so high in their hierarchy. We’re getting into the power brokers and realms that are less commonly crossed, I believe.”
Nodding, as the music changes and the lights dim, I murmur, “Angelo is right. This is much worse than Luca scheming or Merra having someone kick my ass. I thought she’d done that because of street racing or maybe even running a book on the Derby.
That’s really what I thought we’d find out.
But this? This is fucking huge and we can’t even see all the webs yet. ”
“Put your hands together for our favorite incorporeal facilitator… Vissi Delice, the revenant from the Icy Fingers!”
A chilly breeze covers the entire crowd, and I rub my hands over my biceps.
The chill pervades as the skeletal and ripped cloth draped being from the astral realm glides across the stage with glowing eyes.
Swallowing hard, I try to shake off the effects of her power, but even as an Unseelie, she’s far too close to death for comfort.
Archie’s warm palm squeezes my shoulder and I have to hold myself back from using one of the guys to regain the heat this bitch has stolen.
I don’t want to deal with her or any of her brethren anytime soon.
Once she’s settled next to the Volkov woman, the announcer goes on, “Next up, Zeke von Luptin, our honored guest from our partners in The Curators. He’s well known throughout popular media for his more commonly used moniker… and he’s just as big and bad as the tales claim.”
“Yawn.” Rebel growls as the huge, muscled wolf shifter comes strutting across the stage.
He’s from the Legendary realm, so I know that means we’re gazing on the one and only Big Bad Wolf from centuries of stories.
My stepbrother is never impressed by the storybook or legendary folks—he thinks most of them gained their deity level status when people didn’t have the knowledge to discern between things, especially humans.
“So what? He’s a wolf, and he might have been in a lot of fucking myths, but he’s hardly the only one. He’s not even the first wolf shifter.”
“There it is,” I say with a small grin. Archie looks at me and I arch a brow.
“You’re one of his besties and you’ve never heard him rant about the legendaries being absolute bullshit?
Lucky you, big guy. Rebel hates that the robed realm gave the big time heroes and muse influencers elevated status and access to that realm. ”
My stepbrother grunts as the wolf preens his way to his seat. “It’s a prize for mediocrity disguised as an award for popularity. What’s not to hate?”
“Lotta big words for ‘I’m jealous’, man,” Angelo chuckles. “There aren’t a lot of your kind in that land, right? Only Titania?”
“Shut up, Gemini. There are plenty of Fae, but even if there weren’t, I wouldn’t give a shit.”
I think about it for a moment and tilt my head. “I think there’s a hybrid named Jack who’s a big deal in that realm. Half fairy, half giant, maybe? I remember seeing something on a cable a couple of months ago involving a kidnapping we chose not to get into.”
“Ha, ha. You’ve all had your fun. Now shush until the rest of these fuckers are out here and we find out what they’re planning,” Rebel grinds out. “Otherwise, I’m turning people over my damn knee when we get home.”
I can’t decide if that’s appealing or not—and I can tell I’m not the only one.