Devil's Mate (The Tribe MC: Chase of Prey Book 1) (2 page)

Sammy’s aura went transparent and white, his honesty showing through. “Hell, yes. This is
weird
, Nico. I ain’t never seen nothing like these guys. They call themselves the Fallen and I hear they did some major damage… ”

Cara felt the air suck inward. The Fallen was back! Dammit!

Her father and the other members of the Kris were all leaning forward intently. Jaelle had paused in the kitchen doorway, a plate balanced on her right hand, her eyes locked onto Cara’s.

Cara looked away, towards Ion. Ion was young and he was rash. He sometimes forgot to hide his aura from those who could see it, and right then his was jetty black, almost smoky. Nico was looking at Ion as well, and there was a sharp vertical crease between his dark eyebrows.

Ion was a hothead. He’d gotten in plenty of trouble with humans before. Now they were facing the fact that the Fallen were back. Ion was in line to be leader if anything happened to Nico, but that smoky cloud around him didn’t bode well for his ability to lead with a cool head.

“It might not be the same crew.” That was Darva.

Sammy looked from Darva to Nico. “You know these guys?”

“Unless there’s some other club calling themselves that name, yes.” Nico gave Sammy a long smile. “Sammy, I want you to hear me right now. You wanna go to Vegas? That’s your decision, and I won’t hold you back. Get on your bike and keep the shiny side up all the way to the desert and past.”

Sammy’s brow creased. Cara’s heart tightened painfully.“You giving me a blessing, Nico? Really? They must be some real badasses.”

“The worst.” Nico kept his eyes on Sammy’s. Sammy had always been honest, and Nico was not going to dishonor him by lying now.

“Maybe I should stick around.” Sammy’s shoulders drew back. “You’ve been my boss for so long I can’t really say I would know how to be someone else’s mid-guard.”

“If that’s how you feel,” Nico said, “But I’m warning you, Sammy — if this is the Fallen, we know you have never seen anything like them.”

That was an understatement. Cara closed her eyes. Her mind was reeling. A memory surfaced —

Teeth flashed in the darkness. Her mother’s arms were around her waist, then she was being lifted high into the air. Her mother was trying to hold her up, out of harm’s way. A howl rang out and the rumble of motorcycles rose in the distance. They wouldn’t get there in time; that was clear. Pain sliced through her leg and she screamed but her mother was there, her spells flashing around them
…

“I don’t think you know half of what I’ve seen,” Sammy said calmly.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. It’s been a long day and we all need some rest. Go on home, Sammy.” Nico was issuing an order and they all knew it.

Sammy stood for a moment and then he nodded. He’d been a soldier before he’d been a criminal, but either way he was too used to taking orders to go against them. He walked out and Cara looked at Nico with an accusatory stare.

“You knew.” Of course he had. She should have known it from the minute he walked into the house. His absent-minded Romani had should have been her first warning.

“Did you know?” Ion asked.

Nico sighed and rubbed his neck. The large ruby ring on the fourth finger of his left hand winked in the overhead light. “I had my suspicions. Okay, we have a problem with the Fallen. But we have a bigger problem right now — we need to get three kilos of coke out of — ”

Cara practically fled the dining room. She hated the criminal activities that the Tribe — Kris and otherwise — engaged in. She hurriedly tossed on her sneakers and headed out of the house.

CHAPTER 3

She loved to walk at night; she’d been doing it for as long as she could recall. Her mother used to tell her she was following the moon, and Cara still believed that she was.

Not that she would ever leave the house when there was a full moon. The Fallen were about now, more than ever, the moon was dangerous.

The streets unwound below her feet. The stars pierced the sky and a thin sickle of moon hung there, pinned into the corner of the horizon. She hugged her arms tightly around her waist as she walked past the old houses.

Once upon a time, this place had been a crown jewel in a city known for its magic and music. The houses were huge and mostly crumbling, except for the ones bought by wealthy celebrities and a writer who’d written a long series of books about vampires and witches.

The houses all sat on enormous tracts of land; the smallest yard was just under an acre and the largest was seven acres. The city was just around the corner, blocks away from the last house in the neighborhood, and Cara walked toward the shining lights and noise.

The residential streets gave way to a bustling strip of bars and cafes. Trendiness had settled here, and there were young professionals with loosened ties and expensive briefcases setting at the tables on the sidewalks. A cooling breeze wafted through the mild night air, bringing the scent of jasmine and the river.

She was turning down a quiet street when she saw a flash of something up ahead. A choked scream sounded out and her nerves tightened even further. Her feet flew along the sidewalk. She wasn’t thinking — the need to help swelled up and she dashed toward the sound of the scream.

A thin ray of lamplight from a window illuminated the two bodies locked in a deadly embrace at the dead end of the street. Cara stopped, her eyes going wide.

It was a rogue! A werewolf that could turn without the moonlight!

Her heart stuttered to a stop. Fear froze her blood. Her heart restarted and skipped so fast she was sure she was going to faint. Bile rose in her throat and her eyes went from the man who was cowering at the wall from the creature that held him trapped. One of the man’s hands was up, a pale starfish shape that broke her heart.

She had to help!

Her magic gathered and she uttered a spell, one that stopped the rogue in its tracks, at least for a moment. Her spell cast a faint blue light over the wall, the wolf and the man, illuminating them. The spell shattered quickly as the rogue moved.

Adrenaline soared through her veins. The rogue had enough power to break a spell!

“Help,” the man moaned.

Cara gathered her strength and shot another spell at the rogue. Its heavily furred body slunk lower toward the dirty concrete. Its eyes glowed a baleful red and its muzzle lifted to show dripping fangs. Had it bitten the man behind it already? If so, she was fighting for his life for no reason — she would have to kill him too. Better dead than a rogue.

The rogue shook off the powerful spell she had hurled at him, but it was wounded. It limped as it ran toward her, gathering speed and power so that it could pounce. She could smell the madness coming off it in heated waves. A mad rogue was the most dangerous of all, and she was alone with it!

Or was she? Another man came running from behind her, putting himself between Cara and the rogue. His blond hair shone in the shattered blue light and his eyes were fastened on the rogue. His powerful arms came up and he caught the furious creature as it pounced.

There was a loud cry and then a sickening snap. Blood flowed freely. Cara was sure her would-be savior was dead, but instead, it was the rogue that dropped, limp and bloody, to the concrete.

A silver blade shone in the moonlight, wickedly sharp and covered in blood. The rogue whimpered once and began to turn. The man that the rogue had been attacking tried to run, but the one holding the silver blade caught him.

Cara’s heart leaped into her throat. Who was this man? He had to be a Hunter! She knew they still existed, although most of them had been wiped out in the wars between Lycan and vampire that had raged for nearly a century.

He checked the terrified man and then turned to her. “You have magic.”

It was a statement. His voice was a rich warm baritone that made her knees go weak and her mouth go dry. The light showed her his face: green eyes above a set of high cheekbones and a strong jawline.

“Yes.”

“He’s not been bitten. Make sure he can’t tell this story.”

Okay, so he had to be a Hunter. He was not freaked out by her magic and he knew to check for a bite on the almost-victim. She didn’t bother to try to lie or to tell him he’d seen something he hadn’t; he already knew what he’d seen.

She put a hand on the man’s eyes and spoke softly. His eyes closed and he slumped forward. The Hunter propped him up next to the wall while he went to the rogue’s prostrate body.

It had begun to turn. A man’s face looked out at the moonlight but the body was still wolven. The Hunter said, “Silence, your sentence is carried out.”

He drew the silver blade again and neatly detached the head from the shoulders. Cara shuddered and retched, unable to stop herself at the grisly sight of blood and fur and gore. Almost immediately, the rogue began to turn to ash and dust. She shuddered and covered her face to keep its remains out of her eyes and mouth.

“When will he wake up?” the Hunter asked, motioning towards the almost-victim’s unconscious body.

“In a minute or two,” Cara said. “Should we wait?”

“No. Let him think he staggered back here and passed out.” The knife slid into a sheath at his narrow waist and the black t-shirt he wore covered it. Cara became aware of his body at that movement and her mouth went dry all over again, but for an entirely different reason.

Cara stood five foot nine but this Hunter towered over her by at least four inches. His shoulders were broad and his hips narrow; his legs were long and even through the tight jeans he wore she could tell he was muscular and trim. Not bulky and huge like a wrestler, but athletic and fit. Her heart fluttered and moisture seeped into her panties. That shocked her somewhat. She’d never been interested in a man before — not in that sense.

“I’m Sebastian.”

“Cara. Caraleigh, actually, but everyone calls me Cara.” She was being about as goofy as it got. He was making her feel like a tongue-tied teenager! Her hand shook slightly as she reached for his; his fingers closed over hers and warmth seeped into her. His green eyes held her brown ones. There was a fleck of blood on his face, right below his right eyebrow.

She wiped it away without thinking. His skin was warm and firm, and she let her fingertip linger on the flesh. His eyebrow was as golden and straight as the rest of his hair. She wanted to put her hands into his hair, see if it was as thick and coarse as it looked.

“Would you like some coffee?”

The question startled her out of the reverie and daydream she’d been engaging her. Her face burned. “Yes, I would.”

She didn’t really want coffee, but she did want to get the hell out of that dead-end street and away from the stink that was gathering in the wake of the rogue’s demise. The man that she and Sebastian had rescued had begun to stir and moan softly, like a dreamer surfacing from a nightmare.

They hurried down the street and out into the flow of life beyond it. Tourists packed the sidewalks, their cameras held at the ready and natives sat about looking bored. The yuppies at the tables kept a close eye on their designer messenger bags and wallets while pickpockets roamed the crowds.

A reader was set up in the square, cards in her hands, her table empty of everything but a single glowing glass sphere. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted Cara and Sebastian. Cara’s nerves tingled. Some people had the gifts that Tribe had and used them as well as Tribe did. This woman was truly gifted, and she saw Cara for what she was.

“There’s a great coffee shop over there,” Cara said, pointing to the opposite side of the square. She didn’t want to go past that woman; she already had things to explain to Sebastian and she didn’t want a fortune-teller to bust her out before she could.

Loud music and a funeral procession came strutting down the street. The tourists ran to watch and Sebastian took the opportunity to slide slightly closer to her in the crowd. Cara knew what he was doing, and a grin crossed her lips as their hips bumped lightly.

They walked inside the shop, which was mostly empty. This time of night, it was the bars that held the most sway, even though many of them were open 24 hours a day. Sebastian paid for the coffee, and she thanked him as they sat down.

The coffee was good and strong. Her hands were shaking a bit and the drink helped to steady them. She’d just fought a rogue! Her eyes met his and she blurted out, “I’ve never run into one of those before.”

At least not while she was alone. She didn’t say that last part aloud however.

“I wish I could say the same,” Sebastian said.

“Are you a Hunter?”

His face showed surprise. “You know about the Hunters?”

“Yes.” Damn, why had she said that? The Hunters were a clandestine group, and highly secretive. They were never supposed to reveal themselves and she knew it. She’d just put him in a bad spot.

“I see.” His strong fingers flexed and she stared down at his hands and arms. There was a tattoo on the back of his left wrist, a delicate rendering of what looked like a night sky and a full moon. Uneasiness settled into her bones. His fingers were long and elegant, the hands of a pianist or a surgeon. “I’m glad you came along. That rogue was more powerful than most.”

“He was, wasn’t he? I was terrified!” Her laughter was real.

Sebastian stared at her. Cara was gorgeous. Her brown eyes were fringed with thick, heavy lashes that lay like fans on her pale cheeks when she looked down. Her mouth was as full and ripe as a berry and just as red. Not a trace of lipstick on it, either; that hue was natural. Her body was slender yet curved, and there was a vulnerability, an innocence in her face that belied her use of magic.

That was unusual. He’d never before met a witch or caster who’d had a shred of innocence left. She was young, though, about eighteen or just a little older. Maybe she hadn’t used her magic enough to have lost her innocence. Perhaps she wasn’t from a family of casters; maybe she was a natural and didn’t yet know the extent of the magic, or what it could do to one’s soul.

But she knew about rogues, and she knew about the Hunters. Was she a lone Hunter? He’d heard of them but he’d never met one. Most preferred to travel in groups for safety.

Whoever she was, she was doing a number on him. She was making his mind wander to all sorts of delicious places. His eyes traveled down the creamy column of her throat the heavy silver necklace she wore and a small frown creased his brow. She also wore silver bangles on her arms. Maybe she was a lone Hunter, in which case he’d better be damned careful.

No — he
had
to be damned careful. Her being a Hunter was the only thing that made sense. She’d sought out a rogue and had been battling it when he had come across her. He’d been hunting that rogue as well, and he wondered if she had guessed that yet.

“Are you from here?” he asked.

“New Orleans?” Cara pronounced it “N’awlins,” like most of the natives of the city. Her accent was rich and thick, but underneath it, he detected something else, something liquid and almost foreign. “Pretty much. How about you?”

“No, I just got into town.”

“Are you here to stay?”

“I’d like to be. I’m a little tired of always moving.” Where had that come from? Sebastian shifted in his chair. He cursed himself for speaking so openly. Now he would have to try to explain all the places he’d been, and how he’d managed to do that.

On the outside, he still looked twenty five. He was in his prime, and it showed in his lean muscles and smooth skin, but he was almost 300 years old. Werewolves were long-lived; the only thing standing between them and true immortality was their need to look and live like humans as much as possible. It sapped their strength, and it wore them down. It was part of the reason why so many went rogue.

“So what do you do when you’re not trapped in an alley with a rogue?” he asked.

“Oh, I go to college. I’m Pre-Law.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.” So she had a sense of justice. Something about that niggled at the back of his mind but he couldn’t lay his finger on it.

“Oh, thanks. My family wants me to be a defense attorney pretty badly.” She took a long drink of her coffee and stared down into the cup.

“And what do you want?”

“To be a prosecutor.” She looked away and he knew she hadn’t told anyone else that, not even her family. That was curious, and if there was anything that Sebastian knew, it was that curiosity was often provoked by an instinctive sense of danger. It was usually best to know one’s enemies very well.

But how could this lovely young woman be an enemy? He didn’t want to believe she might be but the proof was there on her neck and wrists, in her actions, her magic and her ambitions.

The coffee was finished, but neither of them wanted to leave the coffee shop, or each other. They began a casual conversation just to linger, and before long, Cara found herself describing her professors and classmates as well as her latest reading list.