Master of Shadows (19 page)

Elena paled, looking sick. “Did you survive?”

Eva shrugged. “The cops showed up and scared him off before he could finish killing me.”

“I’m so sorry for what you went through.” Genuine regret softened her voice. A few women in the audience murmured sympathetic agreement. “You must be talking about Trey Devon. We had no idea he was the one who was murdering humans.” Elena sat back in her seat, eyeing Tanner as if expecting his next salvo. “He was Chosen, and his father used his influence to block the Wolf Sheriff’s investigation of the killings.”

“Fuckin’ Chosen,” someone in the crowd shouted. Tristan suppressed a smile.

“Trey Devon was an aberration,” Tanner piped up right on cue. “And his father acted out of love.”

“I knew George Devon and his son, and both of them were bastards,” Elena said tartly. “His daughter was every bit as bad. And you know it, Bob. If you weren’t so busy trying to cover the Chosen’s collective ass . . .”

“We’re off the subject,” Rosen snapped, and turned to Eva. “How did you acquire the magic? And what’s with the antlers?”

Eva tilted her head, and sparks danced around the tips of her horns. “Warlock attacked and murdered an elemental in order to rob him of his powers. His name was Zephyr, and though he occupied the body of a white stag, his powers were nothing short of godlike.”

“A magic deer god,” Andrews drawled, looking up from doodling on his notepad. “Riiiight.”

Eva flicked a pointed ear and ignored him. “Stealing his abilities made Warlock immensely powerful. Warlock then tried to kill Smoke . . .”

“And damn near succeeded,” Smoke rumbled.

“. . . And Zephyr’s ghost sought me out. He said he could teach me how to alter Merlin’s genetic spell in my DNA so I could work magic and help Smoke. The catch was that I had to permit him to share my body so he could seek revenge on Warlock. Smoke was in danger, so I agreed.”

“And saved my ass.” Smoke gave her a slow smile and threaded his fingers with her clawed ones. Somebody gasped, whether in outrage or titillation, Tristan couldn’t tell.

“Let me get this straight—you’re possessed by a magical
ghost deer
?” Tanner turned to Rosen. “Don’t tell me you believe this crap.”

“You can turn into a seven-foot werewolf,” Smoke observed mildly. “You’re sitting in a room with a Knight of the Round Table, and discussing declaring war on King Arthur. And you say you find
us
unbelievable?”

The Sidhe warrior gestured, and a three-dimensional picture appeared in midair as if projected on a movie screen. Great stone blocks gleamed in the moonlight, providing cover as the figures of Smoke and Eva crouched behind them. “This is a projection of my memories of the battle that took place last month.” A towering white figure stepped out from behind one of the blocks, glowing against the night like a ghost. “And
that
is Warlock.”

The crowd murmured in awe, a sound that became a startled shout as the wizard hurtled a lightning bolt at Eva and Smoke. The flash was blinding, and the boom made the room shake. The recorded Smoke deflected the strike with an energy shield that lit up the room.

“Was that a lightning bolt?” Elena demanded. “Warlock tried to hit you with a
lightning bolt
?”

Smoke shrugged. “We were tossing around a lot of power.”

Tanner blinked. “Can
you
throw lightning bolts?”

Smoke gave him a feral grin. “Why, yes. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“No!” Rosen interrupted, in chorus with the council and half the audience. “That’s fine, we believe you.”

“Good. Then watch, and I’ll explain.”

Smoke started narrating as the image flared bright with thundering energy strikes. Tristan exchanged a satisfied smile with Belle and sat back to enjoy the show.

 

Dice had never
been so hungry, not even as a child. But this time, it wasn’t food he craved.

He wanted magic, needed it.
Craved
it like a crackhead craved rock. If he didn’t feed soon, he’d be too weak to hunt.

There was magic inside the house. He could smell the sharp, ozone scent of it right through the walls: three stories of expensive cream brick that reminded him of a castle. He stalked along the perimeter of the house, drinking the smell, aching to taste its source. It was a damned good thing the place nestled in the middle of two acres of woods. Otherwise the neighbors might have spotted a certain bearlike monster and called the cops. Which would have been a bitch.

Especially for the cops. Rearing up on his hind legs, Dice braced his massive paws on the frame of a second-story window and looked inside. A child’s room, judging by the bed shaped like the Batmobile. Magic glinted at him from the black plastic headboard. A spell to ward off bad dreams and give the kid a deep, healthy sleep.

The witch sure loved her brat.

He backed away from the window and dropped to all fours, wondering if he could use that love somehow. Take the kid hostage, offer to release him if she surrendered without a fight?

She might not love the kid
that
much. God knew Dice’s mother wouldn’t have taken such a deal. Hell, Ma had once traded him for a twenty-five dollar crack rock. He’d been all of eleven, and the bastard who’d bought him had been a big, beefy fucker. Dice hadn’t had a prayer.

Wasn’t the first time, wasn’t the last.

He’d enjoyed shooting his mother. He’d made sure nobody ever found the body, either.

Dice padded onward, pausing at yet another rosebush that smelled deliciously of magic. It wasn’t much of a spell, just something to ward off bugs, but it made the roses smell like ribeye to Dice’s starving nose.

He ate the blooms one by one, then started nibbling the leaves, careful of the thorns. None of which was enough to fill his pit of a stomach. It reminded him of the pack of crackers he’d found at the bottom of his mother’s purse once, when she’d been too wasted to feed him for a couple of days.

Even peanut butter on stale cheddar still tasted delicious to a famished little five-year-old.

Feeling a bit stronger, Dice continued around the house, sniffing at flower beds and windows for more magic. He was too big to fit through the door, but there were more magical items inside. He had to get to them.

Just to take the edge off until the witch got home.

The bastard council
had blindsided them.

After Smoke and Eva had finished testifying, Tanner stood up and said, “All this is interesting, I’m sure, but it doesn’t address the primary issue. Davon Fredericks has admitted beheading James Sheridan. He should be handed over to the Council of Clans for trial. I move that if Arthur Pendragon fails to surrender him, the council shall declare war.”

Even the werewolf crowd had muttered in astonishment.

Elena Rollings had made an impassioned argument that Arthur had no reason to want Jimmy dead. She might as well have saved her breath. The outcome had been painfully obvious as each council member voted, aye following aye like the tolling of a grim bell.

“Aye.” Tanner tried to look suitably grave as he added his vote to the rest, but his eyes glinted with excitement.

“Nay.” Elena said looked sick.

“Twelve ayes to one nay.” Rosen banged his gavel. “The motion passes.” He looked down at Belle and Tristan. “You will inform Arthur that the Council of Clans demands that he hand over Davon Fredericks for trial. If he refuses, we will go to war against the Magekind.”

“Dammit, we proved Warlock exists!” Tristan exploded. “He lied to Davon, tricked him into believing he was Arthur, and compelled him to kill Sheridan.”

“But he did kill Sheridan. His reasons for commiting the crime are irrelevant.” Rosen announced. “The boy is dead. Either he pays, or the Magekind does. The ball’s in Arthur’s court now.”

“If we go to war,” Tristan told him in a low, deadly voice, “Jimmy Sheridan will not be the only dead werewolf. I’d think twice about this if I were you.”

Rosen lifted his chin. “Sir Tristan, we are not afraid of the Magekind. Hand over Fredericks and nobody has to die.”

Except Davon,
Belle thought.

 

“Man, it was
sick the way Danger Man killed that monster!” Noah crowed, bouncing a little in the backseat. “He just opened up with his Starblast and zap! The monster was gone!”

Emma glanced back at her eleven-year-old son as they drove, a smile teasing her mouth. She hated to admit it, but she’d enjoyed the movie every bit as well as her son. The 3-D effects were impressive, and the creators had done a good job computer-animating Danger Man, his sidekick Dynamite, and their various evil enemies. Plus, there’d been just enough adult-level humor to keep her husband laughing, while sailing right over Noah’s head.

Thomas tossed her a look as he drove their Camry into the development.
“You giggled just as hard as I did, and you know it
.
”

As he drove, Emma slid a hand over and rested it lightly on his knee, enjoying the shift of hard muscle under her hand. They’d been married for fifty years now, and Truebonded for most of that time. She’d never regretted forming the psychic link that bound them soul to soul.

And now they had Noah. She looked back over her shoulder at her son, who was still chattering about Danger Man. With Arthur’s permission, they’d decided to take an eighteen-year sabbatical to raise the boy. Sometimes she missed the adrenaline rush of fighting beside her handsome husband for Merlin’s Great Mission.

But hell, they were immortal. There would always be missions, but there was only one Noah.

The moonlight pouring in through the Lexus’s rear window set her son’s blond hair ablaze as it traced the line of the boy’s snub nose and round little chin. He looked so much like his father, he made her heart ache.

Thomas turned into their driveway, and Emma glanced around just as the headlights swept across the front of the house. She stiffened. “What the hell happened to my roses?”

Which was when she realized there was something far more wrong than a few uprooted bushes. She froze. “There’s something inside the house.”

Tom’s head snapped toward her, dark eyes going narrow. His mental voice reached out to her through the Truebond.
“What kind of something?”

“Something with power
.
”
She reached for the door latch.

He grabbed her arm.
“Not without me, you don’t.”

“Mom?” Noah’s voice sounded crushed tight and small with fear. “Momma, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. You just sit here with your daddy and I’ll go have a look.”

“I’ve got a better idea,
” Thomas said in the link.
“Let’s call Morgana and get some backup.”

But she’d already unbuckled her seat belt and thrown open the door. She was out before the Lexus had even rolled to a complete stop.

Emma moved fast and low toward the garage, adrenaline singing through her veins. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved this. She adored being a mother, but nothing made her feel so thoroughly alive as knowing
something
waited inside the house. Something with power. Not much power, true, but enough to be interesting.

It had been way too long since she’d fought anything interesting.

She conjured her armor and went in.

 

Tom watched his
wife steal into the garage, moving like the warrior she’d been for more than eight hundred years. He ground his teeth, as sick tension gathered in the pit of his stomach.

Damn Emma anyway.

“Where’s Momma going?” Noah asked in a shaking voice.

“She’s just going to check on something. It’ll be fine.” If overconfidence wasn’t about to bite her on the ass. Of course, Emma had good reason to be confident. She’d fought and killed one of the powerful, demonic Dark Ones who’d tried to invade Avalon a couple of years back. She was no lightweight.

Neither was he. Between the two of them, they’d battled every nasty breed of human you could think of for half a century. Al-Qaeda, Nazis, communists, all kinds of spies, traitors, assassins, and serial killers. Emma herself had been at the job even longer, casting spells, shooting guns and knifing various bastards for centuries. Whatever was in the house was simply more of the same.

He just wished he was in there, too, watching over her. Just as he’d been doing for the past fifty years.

Keeping Emma alive had gotten to be a habit.

“Would you calm down?”
Emma said through their bond.
“You’re making me twitchy.”

“Yeah, well,
I’m
twitchy. And I’d feel a lot less twitchy if I could fucking watch your back.”

“You’re watching something far more important—Noah
.
”

He couldn’t argue with that. Noah had added so much to their lives as they’d watched him grow from helpless newborn to active little boy. Tom knew he’d die for his son without hesitation, just as he’d die for Emma. She’d already slipped into the house and was padding silently toward the source of the faint sounds she could hear coming from the living room. Tense, worried, Tom focused hard on their link, trying to identify those noises.