Devil's Mate (The Tribe MC: Chase of Prey Book 1)

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

Devil’s Mate copyright 2015 by Heather West. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

CHAPTER 1:

“Mo dir Devel si kushko, t'a nai o Beng basavo kek odolen kai kamela.”

Translation:"God is good, and the Devil is not so bad to those whom he likes.”

The music was loud and intoxicating. It swirled up high into the clear night air. Colorful silk scarves spun around the women’s bodies as they danced before the flames. The orange, red and blue of the fire added even more color to their dance. Their bare feet stomped and their hair whirled around their sweating faces. The click and clatter of the bells around their ankles created a counterpoint to the violins and drums the men around them played wildly.

The Elders sat watching. They had seen this dance many times before, and would see it again, but it was sacred, a part of their blood rights, and rites. This dance would determine which of the women in their midst would take the place of the dying Queen of the Tribe.

The women knew what they were dancing for. The caravan had stopped just for this occasion. The Queen had fallen ill, and she would not live past the night. Before dawn, there must be a new one, or the old spells would not hold. They all knew the price of that. Without a Queen, the spells that held them safely would falter and they would scatter like so much dust in the wind. The Tribe would fall; it would die out and be no more.

Each of the Elders was from a family, but all the families put together were Tribe. They had gathered here tonight: Kris, Manoli, Boia, and more — all the families of the far-flung Tribe. Each family had brought one woman to the dance, one who had magic stronger than any other women in her family.

This dance was a serious one. The strongest woman here would become Queen, and that woman would have a heavy load on her shoulders, because the Fallen were already approaching. They sensed the Tribe’s weakening spells and the imminent death of the Queen. The creatures who were Fallen from the grace of God, and outside of nature, knew that this might be their only chance to shatter the Tribe. Even now howls rose against the night sky and there was an occasional cry from a rogue wolf that had stalked to close to the wards around the Tribe’s camp.

And it was not just the Tribe at stake — it was the entire world. If the Fallen were allowed to have free rein, no human would or could survive. There was not a man, woman or child in the Tribe who did not understand these things.

The music came to a rapid crescendo. Now was the time. The women had been dancing in a circle, their bodies moving around and around the fire as they gathered every ounce of energy they could summon from the night, Nature and themselves.

Each family leaned forward eagerly. Which woman would prove that their family still had the bloodlines, the ability to create a woman powerful enough to hold sway over Nature and the Fallen?

The women began to space out, one by one coming forward to stand in front of the Elders.

The first woman stopped and stood. Fire danced from her palms, ran across the ground and touched the lips of the oldest of the Tribe’s Elders. It did not burn him; he smiled and inclined his head in respect for her gifts.

The woman behind her was barely twenty two. Her black hair hung like a veil to her waist and her eyes flashed as she stomped one foot on the ground, causing her body to sway even more seductively. She began to speak, her voice strong and clear and the spell she cast held them all captive, literally. She had the power to make people be still. Nobody could move. When she finally broke the spell there were cheers and uneasy laughter as well.

One of the Elders leaned forward and whispered quietly to the others, „She has a strong power, a power that could be a weapon against the rogues.“

The next woman came forward. She said,“I carry the gift of the sight.“ Then she went to one of the Elders, pressed her hand to his forehead and whispered words that made the old woman smile but tremble. The woman stepped back and bowed then returned to the dancing.

Others came forward. Many cast spells and others created wind, or fire.

There was one woman, however, older but with a face as lovely as any ever seen by the Tribe. She reached her hands high into the air and when she pulled them down again she held what looked like moonlight gripped within her palms. The bolts of energy flew out of her hands, striking the ground causing it to shudder before it cracked open.

Small children actually screamed as the miniature earthquake the woman had caused rippled through the circles, both inner and outer.

There were at least two now that were so strong that the Tribe felt hope rising up again. There would be a new Queen and she would be able to keep them safe.

The last woman stepped into the firelight and a gasp went up.

One of the Elders asked, „What is tis madness? She’s but a child, barely eighteen!“

           He looked to the other Elders and saw they shared his concern. This one was far too young — only a child. Why had she been allowed to dance in the sacred circle?

Their question was answered quickly. The young woman’s feet lifted from the earth and she spun high into the air, whirling along on the currents of the wind. The entire gathering stared in sheer wonder as she dipped and spun above them.

But she was not done yet. She sank back to the earth, her feet lightly touching the ground. She absorbed the earth’s power through the soles of her feet, they could all see it: a little lick of blue light from the dirt beneath her, seeping into her soles.

First fire streaked from her fingers, then a sheet of pure translucent blue light. The light shimmered and hung in the air before it smashed against a straw figure behind the Elders, setting the straw ablaze.

Nobody spoke. Nobody had to. This was the one they had all known must come one day.

This was their new Queen.

One of the Elders, the leader of the Manoli family, stepped forward. His face was grave in the firelight; the gold hoop in his ear winked and shone. His hands shook as he began to draw the runes around the young woman before him. This was his duty — his family’s duty — it had been their duty to name the new Queen since the dawn of time.

The runes hung in the air, glowing softly and shimmering with a pale blue light. They covered her body, lay in her hair like precious jewels and outlined her nubile limbs. With the runes finished, the Elder embraced her before stepping back. He inclined his head and said softly, “It’s time to accept your destiny.”

Her eyes went to the emerald ring on the Elder’s finger, then to the fire. She was supposed to utter the words that would seal her destiny, that would see her take her place as Queen of the Tribe, Queen of the Romani… but she couldn’t say them. Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth.

Beyond the fire a wolf stood, his powerful body silhouetted in the light and shadow. She knew him. Her body sang out with desire, her bare feet flexed and she began to run away from the Tribe and toward the wolf that stood outside that sacred circle.

Behind her, someone called her name.

CHAPTER 2

“Cara? Cara, do you hear me?”

Caraleigh snapped her eyes open. The coffee sitting in front of the pile of books before her toppled over. “Dammit!”

Cara flexed her fingers and the coffee stopped in its tracks. The dark brown liquid pooled and froze. That irritated her too; she hated using her powers. She knew that was ridiculous, but she did, and to have used them so carelessly proved to her yet again that she still hadn’t learned to control herself.

“That book must be boring.”

Cara gave Jaelle a fond but irritated glance. “The law is never boring.”

“Spoken like a true member of the Kris Tribe.” Jaelle’s dark eyes were keen as her mind. She was in her forties but still looked like a teenager thanks to her diminutive stature and smooth face below a short mop of ebony curls. “What did you see?”

“See?”

“Are you going to tell me you didn’t fall into a vision?”

“Yes,” Cara said a bit too sharply.

“You lie badly.”

“I guess that’s better than lying well.” Cara stood and put her hands to her back, stretching luxuriously as she did so. Her narrow shoulder blades ached and her head did too. She ran a hand through the long black hair that hung to her waist in a silky sheet and sighed.

“A vision is important,” Jaelle said. “You need to remember it and try to understand its meaning.”

“Duly noted.” She wasn’t about to tell Jaelle, or anyone else, what she had seen in her vision.

And maybe she hadn’t had a vision at all — maybe it had all just been a dream. She had been exhausted lately. She wasn’t sleeping well and the first-year exams were brutal. She stood and went to the kitchen counter to grab a handful of paper towels. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight, which is why I woke you up. Your father and the rest should be back soon.”

Cara rubbed her aching neck and shoulders, wincing as she did so. “Damn, they’ve been gone for almost an entire day.”

Jaelle’s face creased into a tight frown. “I know. There’s trouble brewing, I can smell it. And somehow or another, it has to do with you.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Oh please, not you too, Jaelle. Everyone’s so busy looking out for me, but I’m a grown-up now! I can take care of myself.”

“You’re the last blood descendant of the greatest Queen the Tribe has ever known. We have to protect you.”

Cara sighed. She’d been hearing that her entire life, and at nineteen, she was sick of it. She hadn’t asked to be the last female of Queen Carida’s line. There had been other Queens from other families within the Tribe, and some had been almost as powerful, why couldn’t everyone leave her alone and go protect one of those young women?

She already knew the answer to that. Carida had been too young when she had taken the throne, but she had been the strongest of all of the Tribe’s spell-casters. At that time, the Tribe had numbered in the tens of thousands and had had branches all across the world. Back then, their bloodlines had been purer, more magical. The entire world had been more magical then.

Now the Tribe was falling into disarray, the old traditions being forgotten as many settled into lives that were no longer nomadic. They assumed the traditions of the regions they settled into, the caravans died away and the new children were born and raised without circles or sacred rites. Non-Tribe members had been brought in and their blood had diluted the lines even further. Of all the descendants of all the Queens, only the Kris tribe had never allowed their bloodline to become diluted.

Only she had the purest of blood in her veins. Of all the women in all the Tribes across the world, Cara alone had the power to be as great a Queen as Carida.

Only she didn’t want to be Queen.

She wanted to be a lawyer.

She didn’t want to use magic to rule, she wanted to use the law to create justice.

The roar of the coming motorcycles filled the air. They were at least a block or two away but that unmistakable roar was as familiar to her as her own skin. She had grown up on that sound, had gone to sleep to the vibrations of a deep-throated, chromed-out bike rumbling in the driveway or even below her body.

The roaring bikes grew nearer. She could hear the higher-pitched whining of the imported racing bikes some of the younger Tribe members preferred below the thicker growl of the heavy American choppers. She went to the window, her eyes narrowed against the growing darkness gathering in the sky and yard.

“It looks like they all made it back.”

The mass of bikers swung into the driveway of the house that sat far back on a low hill. Cara turned away from the windows and began to stack her books up carefully to keep her mind off the vision (no, dream) that had swept her away earlier.

The word Kris meant dispenser of justice and for a very long time the family had done just what they had been destined to do, they had been the judges of the lands. But over the centuries, that had changed, and the men who came trooping into the large kitchen of the old farmhouse were rough men with eyes that said they had seen and done many things.

They were thieves and drug dealers, gun runners and criminals. Some had pasts so dark that their very auras glowed with a baleful yellow-green shimmer that hurt Cara’s head. They were ordinary men, for the most part, not born of the Tribe. The Tribe was special, different from other mortals, because they had been born by a promise and from the very earth.

Of all the Tribe families, it was the Kris who still held the most power. They had settled here in this city and they had found a way to create a sphere. They surrounded themselves with men whose lives were filled with brutality and enigma.

These ordinary men were necessary because their presence kept the Kris’ enemies at bay. The hardcases that rode with the Kris thought that the name “Tribe” on the back of their vests was just a club name. They had no idea that the men they rode beside came from an ancient lineage, one that had survived millennia.

They were as loyal as men like them could be, but they had no idea what genuine loyalty was. The Tribe had withstood centuries of hatred and persecution — it was part of their destiny, and one they had accepted so long ago they never even questioned it now. Their only loyalty was to the Tribe and its various families — at least, what families still stood. Many had assimilated into the world and were extinct now.

The men who rode with the motorcycle club that called itself Tribe had no idea of what really happened within the powerful inner circle of that club. They were there for the drugs, the money, the women and the power. They were there because the Kris needed humans to block and shield them; their very presence dulled the shine of their power from those who would seek them out for it.

And if any of those men ever found out who the Tribe’s inner circle really were, they were disposed of quickly. This was necessary.

Nico was the first to enter the house, as always. None would walk in front of him for any reason. To do so would have been to demean him, to disrespect his place as the leader.

Jaelle and the other women had cooked and the food was already being set out on the table where Cara had fallen asleep. She grabbed her books before Jaelle could set a steaming pot of food on her copy of Levi’s
An Introduction to Legal Reasoning
.

She hugged her father and poured him a cup of the strong, hot coffee that had been set out in a carafe.

“
Nais tuke
,” Nico said, thanking her in Romani as he sipped the brew.

Cara was bothered by the fact that her father had slipped. He had used the words without heeding who else was around.  Only three of the non-Kris Tribe members had come in and they had been riding with Nico since before Cara was born, but still, it was not like her father to be careless. He had something on his mind; she could see that as clearly as she could see the concern in his expressive dark eyes.

“Have you been sleeping in your books again?” Nico asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Cara flushed. “No, why?”

“You’ve got ink on your cheek.”

Her hand went to her face. From behind Nico, Ion’s laughter rang out. He stepped forward, his strange light gray eyes flashing, as Nico sat at the head of the table. Cara glared at him and Ion gave her a long amused look from beneath the heavy fringe of his eyelashes. Those eyelashes framed his slate-colored irises, making him look moody, emotional and incredibly sexy.

Ion was tall and trim. He had a way of lounging against doorframes, counters and bikes that was guaranteed to melt the panties right off a woman’s fanny, as he so indelicately put it. His mouth was long and wide, his nose a trifle too large. If Cara hadn’t grown up with him and known him for the asshole he frequently was, she might have found him attractive. As it was, she could barely stand to be in the same room as him.

And this was the man everyone thought she should mate and marry!

She would die first. Cara didn’t care if they were the only two Kris left who were not intermated, or that they alone had the purest blood in all the tribe, or that their child could be the most powerful one ever born. She would not have slept with Ion if someone had boiled him first. The man was a dog and he treated women like they were too.

“We’ve got to do something about this new club.” It was Sammy who finally spoke as they all sat down at the table to eat. “They’re literally muscling our guys out at every turn. They somehow managed to wipe out Clive’s boys without so much as a fight. I just heard from Clive; he’s freaking out, and I can’t blame him, if what he’s saying is true.”

“What happened?” Nico asked.

“I don’t know what happened to them, but Clive swears he was riding point one minute and riding alone the next. It was up in the canyons — he turned around but there was nothing there, not even a bit of chrome. They were just gone.”

“Maybe they sent them off the side?” Ion asked. “Down into one of the canyons?”

Sammy shook his head. “Clive’s been sitting point since we were in Vietnam together. He would have heard a big truck, or anything else that would have been capable of sending five guys off a road and into a canyon. He says there was nothing and I believe him.”

Ion stuffed hot, fresh bread into his mouth and spoke with his mouth full. “Maybe he’s getting too old. Maybe he’s got roar deafness. It happens.”

Sammy slammed his hands down on the table. Cara was the only woman who looked up from her meal. Jaelle and the others ignored Sammy’s outburst — they didn’t have to look to see his aura like she did. Jaelle had the sense and Drina was an empath. The others all had their own gifts.

Sammy came halfway out of his seat, his grizzled head trembling with anger. His sunburned, deeply lined face held rage but it also held fear. “I was with Clive through shit that makes most of what we do as club look like a cakewalk, you little shit!”

“He’s still old, and so are you,” Ion replied, undaunted.

“Enough,” Nico said. It was quiet, that single word, but everyone felt its power. Nico gave Ion a warning look before he said, “Sammy, tell Clive to come to see me tomorrow.”

“I can’t. He hightailed it.”

Nico’s mouth dropped open. Cara’s nerves tightened. Clive had been with Nico forever. What could make him run.

“I see,” Nico sighed.

Cara’s nerves tightened even further as Nico turned to Drina’s son Darva and asked, “Have you heard about anything else like that?”

Darva nodded. “The girls in the clubs have been coming up missing and then they turn up at that club down on 17
th
. It used to be run by Todd, that old guy. He was always cool with us, but the new owners aren’t. I haven’t even been able to get a feeler out on who’s running that place now.”

“It’s being run by that new motorcycle club in town,” Sammy said. “They’re going to be a problem.”

All the Kris tensed. “So we have missing crew and a new club in town,” Nico said. “Has anybody seen or heard from them?”

Nobody had. The Non–Kris members of the Tribe started to drift out. Nico said nothing as he watched them go. The last one there was Sammy, and his face was troubled as he asked Nico, “What kind of dudes can make a crew vanish into thin air, Nico? I never heard of anything like that, not even in Nam.”

His aura was a deep, fuming purple. Of all the hard cases that rode with the tribe, Sammy was the one Cara liked and trusted the most. He was a biker with a problem with authority and a love for speed and violence, but underneath that, he was still a good man.

Cara’s eyes went to Ion. Most of the Kris, as well as other true Tribe members, had the ability to hide their auras from others of their kind, but Sammy was Tribe in name only. Even if he had known that every Kris person at the table had the ability to see what he felt, he probably would not have cared, Sammy prided himself on his honesty. He was always honest, often brutally so, and this time was no exception.

“I’m fucking worried, Nico, and I ain’t the only one. There’s some guys that want to cut like Clive did. I hear there’s some good things going down in Vegas right now and the crew there’s running some heavy stuff. They’re looking for prospects, good ones, like Clive.”

“And you?” Nico’s eyes were steady.