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Authors: SM Reine

BOOK: Silver Bullet
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“None of my business,” I said again. Just like whatever was between Isobel and Fritz wasn’t my business, either.

I tried to push the keys into her hand again. She ignored me. “He asked me to marry him,” Isobel said. “That’s why we stopped being…involved.”

“You broke up with the billionaire because he wanted to marry you.”

“I broke up with Fritz because I’d barely known him for a month when he said that he wanted to marry me. That’s strange. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

For Fritz? Yes. I had a hard time believing Fritz was the type to throw marriage certificates at a woman after knowing her for a couple weeks. I’d have thought of him as more of the lengthy courtship ending with a prenup and a press release about his engagement kind of guy.

“Damn,” I said.

Isobel was staring at my hand. I hadn’t even realized I had pulled out Fritz’s BlackBerry until that moment. It had been weighing heavily in my pocket all day as I tried desperately to pretend it wasn’t in my possession, but I kept grabbing it without thinking.

“Anyway,” she said softly, “Fritz isn’t my type.” Her fingertips skimmed up my forearms, gently teasing the hairs, sending heat rippling through my body and making my muscles tighten. “I don’t want to leave the case, and—and I don’t want to leave you.”

There was no way that Isobel could know the effect that touch had on me. How such a small gesture could push me instantly toward the brink. “Careful,” I said, but I didn’t push her away.

Isobel leaned against me, letting her warm softness mold against my chest. “I don’t want to be careful, either.”

Lord, it just wasn’t fair. “The fact that Fritz found you first—”

She laughed softly. “It doesn’t mean I belong to him. I don’t belong to anyone, Agent Cèsar Hawke. I don’t belong to Fritz Friederling, I don’t belong to you, and I don’t belong to…” Her lips pursed. “Well, I am my own woman.” The “hear me roar” part was unsaid, but it didn’t need to be spoken for me to believe it one hundred percent.

And a hell of a woman she was. I wanted to throw everything Pops had ever told me about respect and letting ladies make the first move out the window and show her that she
was
mine in seven different ways to Sunday, half of which would be illegal in some Southern states.

Except…Fritz.

No matter what Isobel said, this was the guy that had given me a job. Jailed the incubus that tortured my sister. And he was obviously very much in love with Isobel. I wasn’t a real smart guy, but I could see that.

There were lines that just shouldn’t be crossed.

So I took those Neanderthal urges and set them in a mental corner for a time out.

“Call Fritz’s phone as soon as you get back to Los Angeles,” I said, opening the door to the car. “It should be safe for you to leave a message. Just don’t mention your name or where you ended up exactly. I’ll know it’s you, and we’ll find you after the case is over.”

Isobel didn’t move for the driver’s seat. “Cèsar.”

“Miss Stonecrow.”

She grabbed me by the earlobe and tugged. Hard.
Ouch
. I doubled over just to keep her from ripping my ear off, which put my face on the same level as hers. “Don’t you dare try to put distance between us with formalities. I’ve seen you do that before and I won’t fall for it.”

“It’s not a ploy,” I said.

“You are as frustrating as you are sexy.”

“Do you mean I’m not frustrating you at all, or—?”

Isobel bit my bottom lip, shocking me into silence. Which was apparently what she wanted. As soon as I was quiet, she licked the place she had bitten, and then her tongue was in my mouth, and her fingers were locked behind my neck, and she was pushing herself hard against my body.

My back hit the side of the car. She was all over me, like she had a dozen hands and every last one of them were hell-bent on feeling me up. She groaned into my mouth, wrapped my tie around her fist, pulled on it hard.

Before I could react, Isobel stepped away again, but she didn’t release my tie. She had a death grip on it still, keeping me against the car. “You’d better survive this case, mister,” she said, poking me hard in the chest with each word. “Bring Fritz back, shoot the werewolf, and then come find me. Got it?”

“I think so,” I said, still struggling to catch my breath. She responded with another hard kiss against my lips. A brief one. Then she slipped into the driver’s seat and smiled up at me from the shadows within the car.

Hadn’t I been trying to talk to her about something else? Something important?

“Ann,” I said suddenly, remembering.

She smiled. “Apparently I didn’t scramble your brain enough. I’ll kiss you harder next time.”

I wasn’t going to let the witchy-woman distract me, not this time. “I’m going to do something to help Ann. Mark my words.”

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” she said.

Too late for that.
“Drive safe, Isobel.”

“I like it when you call me Izzy,” she said.

She slammed the door. The engine growled. I took a step back to keep my toes from getting run over.

When the car was gone, I could see the condo’s back door on the other side. Suzy stood on the top of the stairs, watching me. “The zombie’s ready to head out,” she said as the engine noises faded. “You need to escort the necromancer to the beach.”

“Wait, what?” And when blood resumed flowing to my thinking head, I quickly changed it to, “Yes. Right. Gotcha. Time to save Director Friederling. I’m ready.”

Suzy shook her head, sighed, and headed back inside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I’D NEVER BEEN TO Lake Tahoe before, although I’d heard a lot of nice things about it from folks who vacationed up this way. The water was supposed to be so clear that it was like a mirror. The snow was, apparently, absolutely perfect for skiing. They said the hiking was good, too.

Who had the time for that many outdoor sports? Not me. I worked for a living, thanks. And seeing the lake for the first time in the middle of the night wasn’t real impressive anyway. It mostly looked like a big black smudge surrounded by the big black spikes of pine trees.

The sky, though—the sky looked nice. I didn’t often get a good look at the sky in Los Angeles. Too much light pollution. Here in the mountains, with a thin atmosphere and not much civilization, the stars looked close enough that I could have knocked them out of the sky if I tossed a baseball hard enough.

Ann stepped out of the SUV, took one look at the forest, and groaned. “It stinks here.”

I sniffed. It smelled like pine, fresh air, wet soil. You know, the outdoors. Something that kids in this internet-addicted generation didn’t seem all that hung up on experiencing. “We’ll make this as fast as possible,” I said. “Let’s get your zombie.”

I opened the rear of the SUV. Ann fidgeted beside me with excitement as one door swung open, and then the next.

“Come on,” Ann cooed, opening her arms as if for a hug.

Yvette lurched out.

Suzy was the only one on the team who knew how to wield makeup brushes once Isobel left, so she’d been forced to handle making the zombie look alive, and Yvette looked pretty good, all things considered. Suzy was an artist with eye shadow.

She’d drawn the line at dressing the zombie, though, so I’d been forced to do my best using clothes purchased from casino gift shops. Turned out I was a terrible judge of women’s sizes. Yvette’s borrowed skirt was loose around her hips, the shoes flopped on her feet, and the sweater I’d used to cover her bite wound said, “The Pen Is Mightier than the Sword” with “pen” and “is” mushed together so that it looked like it said something dirty.

Our zombie looked like she had terrible taste in clothes, but between that and the hair, she looked passably alive.

The way she moved, however…

Yvette’s head drooped to the side, arms limp at her sides. She was drooling, and I was pretty sure that fluid wasn’t saliva.

“Can you do something about…?” I gestured to Yvette’s head in general.

Ann licked her thumb and scrubbed at the dribble on the zombie’s chin. Kind of like a mom with her toddler. I tried not to feel completely horrified and failed. “Stand up straight,” Ann said. “Shoulders back.”

Yvette lifted her head. She still didn’t quite focus.

Maybe Cain would think she was drunk. Or on drugs. Or sleepwalking. He was definitely going to realize that
something
was wrong, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what. There was no way that he could guess she was dead—right? It wasn’t like zombies were common.

“Great,” I said, looking over Yvette. It was the only nice word I could think to say, even if it was sarcastic.

“Great,” Ann sighed. Not sarcastic.

I couldn’t make the trade fast enough.

As I slipped and slid my way down the sandy beach, I realized that Ann had been right. Sapphire Beach did smell strange.

The problem wasn’t what the lake smelled like. It was all the scents that were missing. I was used to visiting Long Beach, where the muggy air was heavy with the scent of fish and the salty sea. Here, it was cold and icy and reeked of frozen pine.

I was probably imagining it, but I also thought I could smell wet dog.

The tension ratcheted up with every step I took toward the water. My skin was crawling. At any moment, Cain could jump out and attack me. I had loaded my gun with the silver bullets that Malcolm had given me, but the werewolf moved fast; I wasn’t confident that I could hit him, even if I had enough time to react.

This was it—my chance to save Fritz from a murderous werewolf cult thing and save myself from Lucrezia. Everything hinged on this meeting.

No pressure.

Yvette shambled alongside me, cradling a fragment of fake ethereal gateway in her arms. It was a nice replica. I sure as heck couldn’t tell the difference between that and the real thing. Pretty cool trick, considering how little time the team’d had to replicate the artifact before the meeting.

We stopped on the beach at the edge of the frothing waters. I tried not to look around for the other people that were meant to be watching me make the trade off.

I knew Ann was a few feet behind me, lurking in the shadows so she could continue controlling Yvette. I also knew that there should have been kopides in the trees, including Malcolm and Gary Zettel. But wherever they were hiding, I couldn’t see them. Not Suzy or the snipers or anyone else.

I had to trust that they had my back.

Trust. Right. Trust the organization that’s run by a vice president who threatened to kill me.

The traitorous thought rose sudden and unbidden. I tamped it down just as quickly.

I could freak out about that later,
after
I’d saved myself.

Glancing at my watch, I saw the moment that the second hand dragged the other hands to midnight.

Yvette drooled quietly beside me.

Cain did not emerge.

I waited, alone on the beach with the crashing nighttime waves. Clouds crept over the full moon. The wind was warmer than I expected, considering I was in the mountains in March—probably heralding more snow.

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen.

Still no Cain.

I was just starting to worry when I saw a man in black step out of the trees. I tensed, but it wasn’t Cain or a cultist—he was wearing tactical gear and, I think, carrying a sniper rifle. Hard to tell in the dark. The man was pointing to his ear. Or, more specifically, his Bluetooth headset.

Crap
. I was meant to be wearing one of those, too. I’d completely forgotten.

I jammed it in place in time to hear the screaming.

“—here, it’s here, oh Lord in Heaven, it’s
here
, and it’s got him, it’s going to—” Those few coherent words were cut off by another strangled shout. I thought that he was trying to pray, but it was impossible to tell.

My blood turned to icy sludge as others began shouting over the comm. There were wet squirts and splats, meaty tearing noises. The microphones caught way too much information and conveyed it to my headset.

I didn’t have to see anything to imagine the carnage happening on the other end.

“Where are you?” I asked, pressing my fingers to the button to activate the speaker. “What’s happening?”

Malcolm replied over the line. His voice was clear and unsettlingly calm in comparison to the screaming. “You’re hearing Silverton Mine, Agent Hawke.”

And then I wasn’t hearing Silverton Mine at all.

Communication cut out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SUZY APPEARED FROM THE trees and hurtled toward me, sliding on the sand in her practical shoes. She wasn’t trying to hide anymore. Nobody was—members of our team were emerging from everywhere all at once, like freakin’ springtime daisies.

“Where’s Cain? What just happened?” I asked.

“Cain attacked the mine,” she said. “This was a diversion.”

The helicopter took off from the trees, buzzing into the night. It headed east toward Fallon. Car engines roared. Headlights blazed to life. Just as quickly as everyone appeared, they were leaving again. Heading to Silverton Mine too late.

I moved for the nearest vehicle, but a Union kopis caught my arm.

“We’ve received orders to remain and search the beach,” he said, gesturing to indicate me and another kopis at his side. “Just in case Cain’s hideout really is nearby.”

“Orders from who?” I asked.

The kopides exchanged looks. “Zettel,” said the second guy.

Zettel probably just wanted me out of the way. But what if he was right? What if there was a chance that Fritz was nearby, and I was trying to head in the opposite direction?

I checked the time on the BlackBerry. We were well past midnight now. I didn’t have time to go on a wild goose chase across northern Nevada anyway. “Wait,” I said, catching Suzy’s sleeve when she moved to get into the SUV. “Take this with you.” I handed her my gun. She was going to need the silver bullets more than I did. “Go save lives, Suzy.”

“But the mine—”

“Seriously, get out of here,” I said. We couldn’t stand around debating. The clock was winding down.

Suzy seemed to understand. She took the Desert Eagle, checked the safety, shoved it in the glove box. “Ann?” she called over my shoulder at the necromancer, who was fidgeting with Yvette’s clothes, tugging them into place to hide the bite wound again.

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