Renegade (7 page)

“It’s little enough to do for you.” He kissed her temple and stood. Raising the bed rail, he said, “Get well, Valeria, and we’ll nail the bastards together.”

Saying this next felt scuzzy. Ungrateful. And yet, she had to be honest with him. “Dare…I haven’t made up my mind yet. About your claims. I have questions for you, but I can’t think right now.”

“Understood.” If he was disappointed, it didn’t show in his face or his calm voice. “When you’re ready, leave the Collegium, and I’ll find you. I’ll be keeping an eye out.”

Val nodded. “How did you get in here, anyway?”

“Slipped through the boundary wards, which I have to say wasn’t easy, screened myself, and sneaked into the building as a visitor left. Since I was inside the wards, I could scry to find your room. A bathroom sink isn’t the best bowl, but it’ll do.” A wry smile quirked his lips. “Then I caused a tiny, harmless equipment malfunction to get in here.”

“Just to be sure I was okay?”

“I had to know.”

His sincerity vibrated in the magic between them. Warm, soft pleasure brushed her heart, but she lowered her eyes. She couldn’t afford to trust him completely, not yet.

He waited until she looked back at him. “The Council will want explanations, along with the chance to do some posturing. Be very careful what you say, Valeria. Don’t mention a trap. Don’t accuse anyone of anything, and if blaming me will make things easier for you, do it. Just please don’t set them on the people in Wayfarer.”

“I wouldn’t. But if I name you, they’ll hunt you down.”

“I’m used to that.” He cupped her cheek, his eyes solemn. “The last thing I wanted was to make trouble for you.”

She squeezed his hand. “I believe you.” Even if that made her the fool of the year, everything in her said he’d told her the truth. “You should go. Be careful.”

“Always.” A half smile crooked his lips, and his eyes warmed. Her heart kicked. He tipped her chin up and kissed her.

His mouth was firm, warm, and gentle. Heat bubbled low in her belly, and she lifted a hand to his face. A long moment later, he raised his head. His fingers brushed her cheek.

“Watch your back.” He turned toward the door and vanished in midstride, screened.

“You, too,” she murmured. The door opened just enough for him to slip through and then closed silently.

Val lay back on her pillow. Her fingers tingled with the memory of beard stubble under them, and his bay scent lingered in the air. Kissing him back probably hadn’t been smart, but she didn’t regret it.

Now, though, he’d given her a lot to think about. Who could have laid a trap for her, and why?

Four days later, Val walked into the boxy, paneled Council chamber in the tan shirt, brown trousers, and brown boots that were her regular uniform. A day in ICU and three more in a bed had left her impatient and antsy, too aware of all the work she had to do.

The first order of business should be condolence notes. Then she would roust intel and recon and burn their butts about not doing their jobs. Next, if most of the survivors were out of the infirmary, she would call an after-action meeting, a roundtable on why so many things seemed to go wrong.

Before seeing to those important tasks, however, she had to meet with the Council and somehow explain herself.

Gene gave her a slight nod that eased some of the tension in her neck. He, at least, still believed in her.

On the front wall, behind the Council, portraits of past councilors gazed dourly at the room. Maybe that was why this chamber always felt oppressive.

The Council members sat in a horseshoe, the five elected high councilors in the middle and the ten department heads who made up the regular Council at the sides. Gene occupied the chief’s center chair.

Dare had warned her to be careful. He suspected one of these people was a traitor. If someone had set a trap for her team, was it one of them?

At least no replacement yet sat in her regular seat on the right end, next to Teresa DiMaggio, the weaponsmistress. Her salt-and-pepper curls were jumbled, as though she’d been sparring earlier. Stefan Harper’s chair also stood empty, probably because he couldn’t leave his patients yet.

Gerry Armitage, the loremaster, sat in his usual spot on the left. With his flowing white hair, kind face, and wire-framed glasses, he looked like he’d come from central casting to play a distinguished scholar. He had the keen mind for such a role, too. He gave Val a cool nod of greeting.

She sat at a small table facing the Council’s long, curved one and took a deep breath to steady herself. They would give her a hard time, especially since she wouldn’t say how she’d known about the nest, but shire reeves had presided over worse disasters than this and kept their jobs.

“You understand,” thin, unctuous Albert Dutton said, “that this hearing is convened to determine your fitness to retain the office you hold and, more specifically, whether you were derelict in your duty four days ago?”

“I do.” If they charged her with dereliction, removed her from office, she couldn’t argue that she didn’t deserve it. She could only hope to sway enough of them to her side. She owed her dead reeves vengeance, and she could get it more easily as shire reeve.

“Well, then.” Dutton smiled. “Walk us through the events following your return from vacation, please.”

She obliged, keeping her voice calm.

Blond, thirtyish Pansy Wilson said coldly, “You claim a mage helped you rescue a couple of Mundanes and tipped you off to the Milledgeville nest.”

“That’s correct. I’d intended to check it out, but Daniel Goodwin’s kidnapping—”

“We’ve scried your vacation.” Otto Larkin’s bulldog face twisted into a smirk. “There’s no indication of anyone contacting you, or even approaching you, until you returned here last week.”

Val kept her eyes level on his. “As I was about to say, Councilor, the kidnapping made quick action necessary. As for your not seeing the mage who helped me, you know ghouls screen their kidnappings to avoid detection.”

“Yet this rescuer didn’t give you his name,” Gene said slowly. He hadn’t spoken before. His gaze probed into hers, and Val didn’t dare look away as he added, “Even though he gave you his clothes and bandaged your wounds.”

“Some mages, as you know, prefer to live quietly. Some even forego credit for good deeds.” At least her voice sounded composed, despite the anxiety tightening the back of her neck. “He’d helped me against the ghouls. I was willing to accept his anonymity in exchange for information.”

Frowning, Otto said, “But it wasn’t reliable, was it?”

“In many respects, yes, it was. I can’t blame my informant if his information was outdated.”

“Outdated in fatal ways.” Elayne Smith’s alto grated, and loathing burned in her eyes.

Well, she couldn’t loathe Val any more than Val despised herself. Those mages’ deaths weren’t on Smith’s conscience.

The short, graying arborist, Lew Ardmore, leaned forward. “We also scried the raid. Why were you not screened?”

“We were.” Val tried to look surprised, as though she hadn’t already heard about the screen from Dare. “Or we thought we were. I checked, had Harry check, too. Harry Parker.”

Who was dead. Around a fresh stab of grief, she ground out, “There was this odd tingle, we both noticed it, but the screen felt fine.”

Judging by the councilors’ grim expressions, that wasn’t good enough. Had she missed something? Should she have placed more significance on that tingle? Sensed the nest’s hidden defenses? She would probably wonder for the rest of her life.

Gene leaned out from his seat in the middle to look along the table. “Deputy Arbaugh, the scout, confirms that he, too, believed the strike force to be screened. Odd magics sometimes occur near ghoul nests. He, like Sheriff Banning and Deputy Parker, didn’t consider the odd tingle he sensed important.”

“We have only her word on Parker’s opinion,” Larkin said. “If you think she’s told us the truth about this so-called tip, you’re getting senile. We can jail her for lying to us, and I say we should.”

V
al’s stomach churned with sick dread. If they arrested her, questioned her magically, she wouldn’t be able to hold back anything, including her contact with Dare. They’d kill her for hiding that, not just fire her.

But she couldn’t give him up. She wouldn’t. Not when she didn’t believe he’d caused this tragedy.

Gene shot Larkin a hard look, and he subsided. “Does anyone else have a question?” Gene asked.

After a few moments of silence, he turned to Val. “Shire Reeve Banning, please step out. We’ll call you back in a few moments.”

With a nod, Val went out to the hall to sit on the hard bench by the door. That had gone very badly. They might well fire her, and then what would she do?

Sybil came around the corner and sat next to her. “I hope you told them something that helped.”

“I told them what happened, but they didn’t seem to like what they heard.”

The centrally located Council chamber had its own lobby, an atrium with a skylight and plants that always felt inviting. It was also a frequent cut-through for those coming into the building from outside. A stocky deputy reeve in khaki fatigues walked into the building and down the corridor. He didn’t even glance her way.
Shit.
Not that she blamed him.

“At least you’re talking to me, Syb. That’s something.”

After a moment, Sybil said, “If you didn’t act like you’re hiding things, it might not be as bad. But you seem to, and with all those people dead…” She shrugged.

“Yeah.” Val sighed. “I can’t give them what I don’t have, you know.” If they fired her, what would she do? Go be a Mundane cop again, as she had been before becoming shire reeve?

The door warden poked his head out. Holding the door open, he said, “Shire Reeve Banning, they’re ready for you.”

Val blew out another breath that didn’t slow her pounding heart and rose.

Sybil said, “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Val walked into the chamber to learn her fate.

The councilors, even Gene, looked grave. The soft thud of the door behind her and the warden’s presence at her back seemed suddenly ominous.

The table she had used was gone. She had to stand in front of the Council members. This must be how the Roman victims had felt awaiting the lions, alone and very exposed. She glanced at Gene, who looked sad, and her throat tightened. Her chest felt as though a lead ball filled it.

“Sheriff Banning,” he said, “this Council is unanimous in finding that you have not been candid with us.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. “You leave us no choice but to hold you responsible for the fatal errors in judgment regarding Tuesday’s raid. Such deceits and misjudgments are not acceptable in a mage entrusted with high office. However, because of the proper precautions taken in executing the raid, you are not charged with dereliction of duty.”

The heaviness in her chest eased.

“However,” he continued, “we can no longer trust your loyalty or your judgment. Pending further investigation, you are suspended from your position as reeve of the Southeastern Shire.”

Seething with frustration and anger, Val headed for her suite.

She’d almost reached her door when Gene called out to her.

“Valeria?” He hurried down the corridor. “A word, if you please.”

The last thing she needed was a scolding, or company, but she forced a polite tone. “I’m heading out for a few days, Gene. I have a lot to do first.”

“This won’t take long.” He followed her inside. “I hated to vote against you. I hope you understand that I couldn’t support you in the circumstances.”

“You have to do what you think is right.” As she had. She glanced around the familiar suite. If she couldn’t clear her name, she’d lose the right to this place that had become home.

He took the nearest armchair. “Please sit down, my dear, and listen.”

She wouldn’t get rid of him until he’d had his say. Reluctantly, she perched on the couch.

“You should know, Valeria, that the department heads have agreed not to hire you for any other position during your suspension, if you’re thinking along those lines. Your presence here has become awkward. Besides, you might do better to take some time away, as you said you intended to.”

The condemnation in his face jabbed at her, made holding her silence that much harder. He’d always been so proud of her.

Were they kicking her out in hopes she would lead them to Dare?

She rubbed the ache between her eyes. “Gene, I think you should go. As I said, I have a lot to do before I leave.” Like writing those condolence notes.

He sighed heavily. She hated disappointing him, but telling him the truth would put him at risk, too.

“I have something for you,” he said, “from Zara and me.” He drew a wrapped box out of his pocket and handed it to her. “No matter what my office requires of me, you’re very dear to us. You know that. Zara sends her best. She’s sorry she can’t come back from Egypt to see you.”

“There’s no need for her to.” A lump rose in Val’s throat. “You know I hate letting you down.” She opened the box. A quarter-size moonstone pendant in a delicate, silver setting lay inside. “It’s beautiful.”

“There’s a protection charm on it,” he said. “I hope you’ll wear it in good health.”

“Yes. Thank you, Gene.” The kindness in the gesture wrenched her heart. She had to swallow hard before adding, “Thank Zara, too. Please.”

“Of course. I couldn’t vote to support you. I can, however, shield you. If you will only cooperate with us, give up this misguided effort to protect this man, attitudes will soften. You used to confide in me,” he said. “Trust me, Valeria. Let me help.”

For a moment, she was tempted. He and Zara had helped her through the darkest days of her life.

Then she remembered Dare’s visit and the trust he’d placed in her.
If you want to push the call button, I won’t stop you
, he’d said. He’d risked his life to see for himself that she was okay. To warn her.

“Valeria.” Gene gave her an encouraging smile. “Tell me who he is, where to find him.”

“I’ve told you.” She stood and paced to the window. “I don’t know who or where he is.”

Gene sighed. “Until you can be more forthcoming, don’t expect much of a welcome around here.”

“I see.” All or nothing, then. “I think I’ll go out to Gran’s old cottage at Lake Pearson. Do some thinking.”

Dare had said he would keep an eye out, would come to her if she left the Collegium. If he didn’t show, she’d hunt him down and drag answers out of him. Shire reeve or not, she was still a mage. If there was a traitor in the Collegium, she’d find him—or her.

“Well.” Sadly, Gene shook his head. “I’ll see you when you return, then. Time and perspective will do you some good.” He walked out of the room.

Val forced air into her tight chest. He’d been like an uncle since her parents’ deaths, had encouraged and advocated for her. Now he didn’t trust her.

Feeling sick with worry, she packed a bag, stuffing the CD with Dare’s info on it into a side pocket. She’d given Dare the benefit of the doubt, and that choice was biting her on the ass. His information had better be worth all this trouble.

Griff knocked on the door of Valeria’s lake cottage. No McMansion for her. Nothing pretentious about the compact, one-story building with weathered wooden siding and a dark green roof.

Only silence answered his knock, yet her blue Mustang sat in the driveway. She must be around somewhere. He’d scried her yesterday and had seen her here. This was a perfect chance for them to talk.

Waiting for her to recover, he’d kept busy interrogating ghouls Tasha and Javier caught. But the prisoners had known nothing. Whatever the bastards were planning for the dark of the moon, they’d kept the knowledge tightly restricted. At least there were five less ghouls in the world.

Now Valeria was out of the infirmary, out of the Collegium. Accessible. Would she trust him now as she’d seemed to the other night? Or had she decided to blame him instead? If so, this could be a trap, but he had to risk it. He’d done what he could in the smart department, setting alert wards on the road in both directions.

He knocked again. Still no answer. Maybe she’d gone out on the water.

He walked back down the slope, past his black Dodge Charger and her Mustang. With the lack of rain lately, the water level had dropped, exposing a strip of rocky red clay along the shoreline, wide enough to make a path. He shaded his eyes against the sunset and peered down the shore.

A woman in brief, blue running shorts and a light blue tank jogged toward him, sunglasses on, tawny ponytail swinging behind a navy blue Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets ball cap. A pale pendant around her neck flashed in the sunlight as her long legs ate ground.

Her head lifted. Relief and inexplicable joy roared through him, hardening him, an instant before his mind caught up with his eyes.

Valeria. He took a quick step, then another, before his wits kicked in and stopped him. She didn’t trust him fully, had said she had questions. Besides that, she might regret that kiss the other night. He couldn’t regret it, but he had to admit it’d been irresponsible. Drawing her into any kind of personal involvement would be unwise for both of them. He was not only a fugitive but had potentially dangerous ghoul venom polluting his blood.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. Hellfire, he was glad to see her healthy.

Breathing hard, she halted for a long moment before walking slowly toward him. The sunglasses hid her eyes, and she wasn’t close enough for him to get any sense of her feelings through the magic.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’ve been better.”

Into the awkward silence, he said, “Pretty necklace. Moonstone?”

“Yes, thanks. Come in, and let’s get out of the sun.”

As they walked, Val glanced at Dare’s tall frame, now clad in jeans and a weathered, blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up above his corded forearms. The cotton sat snugly across his wide shoulders and chest.

Heat that had nothing to do with exercise bubbled low in her belly. Her blood seemed to sing in her veins, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She took a slow breath and let it out.

He looked tired, as though he’d pushed himself too long on too little sleep. He’d been wounded recently, too.

He was alive, though, while too many of her deputies were dead.

His visit to the infirmary, his warning—okay, yes, and his kiss—hadn’t strayed far from her mind in the days between. But she couldn’t afford to trust him blindly.

She squared her shoulders. “You have to let me probe your mind.”

His face tightened. “I told you—”

“Yeah, now I’m telling you, over the bodies of my dead deputies. I believe you about last week’s disaster, but I told you I had questions. I’m wrestling with whether you’re a good guy who was right all along, or someone who made a series of tragic mistakes.” If only she could read his frown, know what he was feeling or thinking. He’d pulled himself in magically, hiding his emotions.

At last, he gave her a curt nod. “I’ll let you probe, but you’ll stick to my motives, my feelings and intentions. You go farther than that, and I’ll slap you back so hard you won’t see straight for a week.”

“Fine.” Did he really think she’d just fish around in his head, that she had so little integrity?

She led him to the covered patio under the porch overhang—bright floral cushions on the wrought-iron loveseat and chair, a matching glass-topped table, screening trellises on the sides for privacy. A restful spot, usually, with a view of the water.

When she perched on the love seat, he folded his tall frame onto the cushion beside her. His wide shoulders crowded her on the narrow bench. Silently, looking at the lake and not at her, he offered his right hand.

She clasped it between her two and closed her eyes, then opened her senses to feel the sturdy structure of bones and muscles, the power crackling in his nerve endings. When she touched it, she caught a quick, electric tingle that made her breath hitch. Dimly, she felt his fingers wrap around hers.

He didn’t try to block her. The path to his mind opened, and she rode that current of power back to it. Summoning the memory of that moment in his loft, before the attack, she homed in on it. Felt the memory take shape.

Then she was fully in the moment, seeing her battered face through his eyes and feeling the pain of loneliness he tried to deny, the frustration of his inability to find a traitor he believed betrayed the mages. His admiration for her.

Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. Could he feel her rush of pleasure? Her eyes flew open to meet his dark, uncertain ones.

“Don’t stop there,” he murmured, and the words echoed in the power linking her mind and his.

Another memory engulfed her, one he offered. Through his eyes, she saw the Council chamber. Tall, scholarly, graying Alden, the chief councilor, sputtered in outrage over Dare’s accusation of treason. Other councilors shouted at Dare, refusing to listen.

A hard, dark flash of precog certainty ripped through Dare, the knowledge Alden would escape, that there would be no justice for the dead deputy reeves. Alden blasted green power straight at Dare, who ducked, rolled, and came to his feet blasting silver energy from his staff. Struck in the chest, Alden fell, dead.

Deputy reeves broke free of their shock to charge Dare, their leader. He mowed his way through them, killing four, and the pain he’d felt, the helplessness, frustration, rage, and grief, all thrummed in her veins as they had in his.

It was too much. Her mind jerked free of his.

Both his hands now held hers, and the shadow of that old pain haunted his eyes. It also echoed in her heart.

Their people had branded him a criminal, put a price on his head, forced him to live on the run, yet he still cleaved to his oath, his vow to protect them. Even when that meant killing the ones who came after him, men and women who had been his aides but also his friends.

With his pain echoing in her, Val touched his cheek. “Griffin, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. You deserve…so much better.”