The Psy-Changeling Collection (220 page)
“And we’re supposed to take your word for it, permitting you to ally yourself with two powerful groups?” Mercy shook her head. “Nice and opportunistic of you.”
“Like vultures,” Indigo added.
The two women’s eyes met. Mercy smiled.
“If we don’t,” Bowen said, white lines of strain around his mouth, “they’ll kill us through sheer strength in numbers. And I think both SnowDancer and DarkRiver would prefer that didn’t happen. Because if it does, then the militants take complete control of the Alliance.”
Mercy saw Lucas glance at Hawke and the wolf nod. Lucas clearly spoke for both of them when he said, “Go back to
your hideout and stay there. Don’t cause any problems. The second you do, you’re dead.” Flat, cold words.
“We can’t sit still,” Bowen argued, shoulders tight with frustration.
Hawke shrugged, and though he was in human form, it was as if the wolf had made the movement. “So move. And die.”
“You want to play power games with your leadership—find another location.” Lucas’s face was pure alpha, no hint of give in him. “We’ll take care of the Alliance our way.”
Most humans would’ve backed down by now—hell, so would most changelings, but Bowen held firm. “We can help you,” he said. “We’re strong, well-trained, and we know how to be loyal.” His mouth twisted. “At least until that loyalty is betrayed.”
“Are you saying you’re willing to swear allegiance to us?” Lucas asked.
Bowen nodded. “If that’s what it takes.”
“The instant you do,” Lucas continued, “you fall out of Enforcement jurisdiction. I could tear out your heart for breaking Pack law, and they’d stand aside and let me.”
“Forget about tearing out your heart,” Hawke said casually, “I’d rip you limb from limb.”
Riley spoke for the first time. “I don’t want anyone in our pack who thinks kidnapping a teenager out of his home is a good tactical move.”
Mercy knew the second Bowen realized that though two alphas stood in front of him, the real danger lay at his back. Riley was ready to gut him. The human male turned. “We saved Nash from a far worse fate. Check all flights from Europe over the past forty-eight hours. I bet you you’ll find a hell of a lot of men and women coming in who walk like mercenaries. That new Alliance squad is still here.”
“You’re holding the information hostage?” Riley again, sounding oh-so-calm. It had taken her six months of working with him before she’d realized the calmer he got, the angrier he was.
“I don’t have it,” Bowen responded. “One thing humans
have gotten very good at over the years is blending in. The Alliance team is in the city, that’s all I know. My contact at HQ tells me they also have a new target, but we don’t know who or what.”
“Mercy,” Lucas said, “debrief and take him back to his people.” To Bowen, he said, “As far as we’re concerned, you’re still the enemy. You prove us wrong, fine. But until then, you so much as lift a weapon in this city, we’ll take you out.”
In the San
Gabriel Mountains, another struggle continued to take place under an unforgiving sun.
The slender Psy male was almost to the edge of the cliff when he fell. His knees bled as the gravel shredded his pants but he barely felt the pain. His head was about to explode. A trickle of liquid slid from his nose and when he touched it, his fingertip came away stained red.
The compulsion didn’t like being denied.
Determined, he tried to get up. His body refused. It hurt. Everything hurt. But he had to get to the edge. So he pitched himself forward and started to crawl. A few more meters and he could end this without doing that which should never be done. He was Psy. He couldn’t pick up a gun and mow down innocent men and women.
Inside his mind, the compulsion slammed up painfully against the solid wall of Silence. His nose bled faster. When he heard a wolf’s howl on the breeze, he realized he might not have to make it to the edge. Perhaps nature would end this for him.
Mercy drove a
still-angry Riley back to the cabin so he could head up to the den. “You’re making my teeth ache.”
The wolf in the passenger seat stared at her out of human eyes. “No questions even now?”
Surprised he’d brought it up, she shrugged. “Some promises you don’t even think of breaking.” He’d trusted her with his pain last night, and she knew just how difficult that kind
of trust was for him. The leopard had been startled by it … but that startlement was growing into something stronger, something that threatened the distance she was trying to keep.
Riley opened his mouth as if to reply when something beeped into the silence. Taking out his cell phone, he checked the message and swore.
She tore her mind away from the implications of the previous night. Because she’d let him in. And that, too, was a rare kind of trust. “What?”
“Nothing. Just kids being stupid.” He stuck the phone back into his pocket. “I have to go bust some heads up at the den.”
“Why do you have to be the one to hand out punishment?”
“Because the kids got caught hatching a plan to toilet-paper Jon. Not Jon’s home. Jon.” He sounded like he had a spike being driven into his eyeballs. “And since I’m the Dark-River liaison, Judd finds it highly amusing to make me deal with it.”
Mercy moaned. “Oh, God.” Jon had been adopted into DarkRiver by Clay and Tally a few months back. He’d not only fit right in, he’d become the undisputed leader of his age group—and Jon wasn’t changeling, which said something about his skills. “Jon probably did something first.”
“And didn’t get caught.” Riley shook his head. “I wish this lot would’ve been better at hiding their tracks.” His eyes glimmered amber when he glanced at her. “Where are the South Americans?”
Her leopard bared its teeth in a soundless growl at the unwelcome change in topic. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” Though she had every intention of making her opinion of the pair clear to her grandmother. “And those two have nothing to do with whether or not we share skin privileges.”
Riley snorted. “Please. Your grandmother threw them at you because there’s a high chance your mate will be a dominant leopard.”
“What’s that to you?” It came out without thought, and she wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a dare.
His phone beeped again before he could answer. Riley checked it with a grimace. “You’ll have to come up with me.”
“Hey, wolves are yours to deal with.” She meant to have a hard chat with Eduardo and Joaquin during that time. No one was going to push her into a situation she didn’t choose. “I have enough—”
“They had Jon duct-taped to a tree. Judd just sprung him—but he was found with a suspicious amount of itching powder in his pockets. And several of the wolf juveniles have been squirming for hours.”
Mercy wanted to beat herself with a blunt object. “Please, God. Kill me now.”
“I’d rather work out my frustration by stripping you naked and letting you use those claws on me.”
And that quickly, all she wanted to do was to crawl all over him.
At a quiet
meeting room in the sunken city of Venice, four women and five men sat around a long, dark table. Outside the windows situated flush against the dome that kept this city and its inhabitants from drowning, water lapped in a gentle, blue-green wash. But inside, the quiet was sharp, spiked with the knife-edge of tension.
Two of the chairs around the table lay empty. Aurine and Douglas had both walked away during the discussion of the latest operation, unwilling and unable to see the long-range nature of the plans they’d helped develop. The chairman was frustrated by their lack of vision, but then, perhaps it was better they were gone—Aurine, in particular, had been vociferous in her opposition to the Nash Baker operation. She’d undoubtedly have used this opportunity to push for a less militant approach.
“Bowen’s team has gone under,” the chairman told the others. “But they’re not our primary concern—I sent the information about the target with a brand-new team, yet Bowen and his people managed to acquire and act on that information before the others even arrived in the city.”
“The leak—could it be Aurine?” another man asked. “She was vocal about her disagreement.”
“No,” a third man responded. “She’s a woman of her word—I’ve had enough business dealings with her to appreciate that.”
“Douglas?”
“Too weak,” one of the women murmured. “He was on the board because he had money, not balls.”
Some of the men grimaced, but the chairman nodded. “Which means it’s either one of us, or there’s a leak in our offices. I intend to plug that leak.” A statement that carried the menacing darkness of a threat.
“Go ahead.” This came from the same woman who’d spoken earlier. “But don’t try to play the big man.” A disdainful sniff. “You may have delusions of grandeur but this is a
group
effort. If you can’t understand that, you shouldn’t be here.”
The chairman blinked, taken by surprise, though he hid it well. “Of course. I’d never presume otherwise. But you did ask me to be in charge of security matters—it’s my job to close the breach.”
And he would close it. No one was going to stand in the way of his vision—by the time this was over, humanity would rule … and see him as their god. Even if he had to paint the streets with Psy and changeling blood.
The situation in
the SnowDancer den turned out not to be as bad as Mercy had feared. Lucas had come up with Hawke so they could discuss the Alliance matter more in depth, and Sascha had accompanied him for reasons of her own. As a result, a suitably chastened Jon was sitting in the “brig” when they got back.
“Why does he look like he swallowed raw eggs?” Mercy asked Sascha, after she found her alpha’s mate in front of said brig. One cell held wolf juveniles, the other, Jon. Now that she thought about it, every single miscreant looked prune faced. “What did you do to all of them?”
Sascha gave her a beatific smile as they walked out into the corridor and began to head south. “They had to say one nice thing about each other. Jon had to say a nice thing about every single wolf he dusted with that powder.”
Mercy’s leopard grinned. “I like this new evil side of you.” The nature of Sascha’s gift meant she couldn’t hurt anyone without hurting along with that person. That didn’t mean her spine wasn’t forged out of unadulterated steel. “I had wild
monkey sex with Riley.” The speed with which it came out told her, her subconscious had simply been waiting for the chance.
Sascha almost tripped over her own feet. “Oh.” A pause as she glanced around the corridor and lowered her voice. “Lucas mentioned it but … really? You and Riley?”
“Oh, yeah.” Mercy rubbed her face. “I can’t believe I just told you. It means I’m thinking of doing it again.”
“Was it good?” Sascha slapped a hand over her mouth, cardinal eyes wide with mortification. “I’ve been living too long with cats. That was a horribly nosy question.”
“It was fantastic,” Mercy answered. “Fan-fucking-tastic. I want more. It’s making me insane.”
“What’s stopping you from … ?”
“Aside from the fact that he’s a wolf?” She raised an eyebrow. “And I’m a cat? There’s all sorts of wrong there.”
“Mercy, don’t try and snow me. Changelings aren’t animals. You’re human, too. And there’s nothing wrong with a strong woman like you finding Riley attractive.”
Mercy reached up to redo her ponytail. “You know how predatory changeling men are.” But now she knew he was more than that—she’d felt the depth of his hurt, seen a glimmer of a heart so strong, it made the leopard hunger to be invited in.
“You’re hardly a cream puff.” Sascha’s expression filled with mischief. “I don’t think Riley’s going to know what hit him.”
A shiver sizzled down her spine even as she grinned at Sascha’s comment. Glancing instinctively to the right, she saw Riley heading out from the area where the boys were contained. “Finished?”
“This time.” He looked at Sascha. “They’re calling you the Devil Incarnate.”
Smile wide, Sascha dusted off her hands. “My work here is done.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go see Toby,” she said, mentioning Judd’s nephew, “and then I’d better go rescue Hawke and Lucas from each other. You two going to sit in on this meeting?”
“I might swing by, see if they need us for anything,” Mercy said. “After that, I’m gonna go for a long run, clear my head.”
There was too much crap clogging her up—the Human Alliance going suddenly psychotic, juveniles acting up now of all times, and this damn, unquenchable thirst for Riley “the Wall” Kincaid. They’d been antagonists for so long, the increasing complexity of her feelings for him kept catching her unawares.
Riley didn’t say anything as he accompanied her to Hawke’s office, which didn’t surprise her. The wolf could be very quiet when he was thinking—and strange as it was, she’d come to be comfortable with his silences. Because Riley never stopped
being
there, his focus as absolute as always.
Hawke was picking up a call as they walked in. Mercy leaned over the back of Lucas’s chair, intending to ask if he needed her to do anything before she headed down, but Hawke swore, sailor-harsh, before she could get a word out. She looked up to find his face a mask of anger and, oddly, pity.
“Send it through,” he said, and flicked on the comm panel to their left.
The screen filled with the image of a golden-blond Snow-Dancer soldier. “We found him collapsed on the edge of the cliff. Looks like he was trying to crawl over it. Hold on.” The soldier turned his cell phone so they could see the rough tent that had been rigged a few feet away. Getting closer, he lifted the edge of the canvas to reveal the male who lay unconscious inside.
“He’s covered in blood, and as far as we can tell he’s continuing to bleed from the nose and ears.” A pause. “Jem says it looks like the fine veins in his eyes are starting to go as well. We don’t have the resources to treat him—I’ve called an Evac unit, but I don’t think it’ll get him to a hospital in time.”
