The Wolven (20 page)

Shauna no longer heard Kara and feared she had been left alone with Banjo, who seemed to have gone completely mad. Had he gone mad? Or was this who he really was? Shawna felt like she had been thrown into another dimension without warning, without any knowledge of how to survive in it, or the tools to even try. She was at its mercy.

She had never known this level of vulnerability before. Hopeless, helpless, useless.

Banjo grunted behind her, and Shauna squeezed her eyes shut, saying a silent prayer to the universe, begging for this not to happen. It
couldn’t
happen.

She shoved against the dirty rag in her mouth with her tongue, once again trying to push it out. This time her efforts were rewarded with a little more movement.

Then to Shauna’s horror, she felt skin against skin. Banjo had taken his clothes off. He was obviously finished playing games and intended to take care of business now.

“Hey, shit for brains!” It was Kara again.

Shauna shifted her head slowly, as inconspicuously as possible. She wanted to get a look at the woman. Maybe, just maybe if she could lock eyes with her, Kara might see reason—a woman-to-woman thing. But all she saw were the lights.

At least Kara’s voice had stopped Banjo from rubbing his naked skin against hers…for now.

“You see this, you little turd?”

And suddenly from the center of the spotlights, Shauna saw a woman with tar-black hair approaching the makeshift table. It was Kara Matiste.

“Do you see this?” Kara waggled what looked like a two-inch long, glass test tube with a cork in it. “What do you think you’re going to do, Mr. Brilliant, when you fall off the high you’re on? You’ll shrivel, that’s what. What are you going to do then? You think I can’t get another asshole like you to play bait? You forget; you need us a lot more than we need you. There is a lot that goes on behind the scenes in this operation, and you know it. Without me, you don’t get to the big man. So here’s the deal—you’ve got about thirty minutes left on your high horse, then it’s going to buck you off. Are you going to play ballsy or are you going to keep acting like an ass?”

A long pause, then that wretched, twittering laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I—I know how we roll,” Banjo said. He was jitter talking again, which meant anything—and everything—could happen now.

With her fear spiking off the charts, Shauna wiggled
and twisted, struggling to get away. She knew even if she were able to get Banjo to hear her now, there was no way he or Kara was going to let her go. She had heard too much. That left only one option on this table—she was going to be raped—and die.

“That’s right, little man, I know you do,” Kara said. “See this vial? Everything that’s in it will belong to you, I promise—but first you’ve got to tell me who’s the boss around here.”

“You—You—You the boss!”

“That’s right, and what are you gonna do?”

“What—whatever Kara say. That’s—what we gonna do. Gotta get me some—get me some of that…” Banjo grunted loudly, and Shauna felt him pushing against her again.

More flesh against flesh now, and his hands were trying to spread her open.

Shauna’s tears came in a flood. She could barely breathe. It didn’t matter to her anymore if they saw her move and slammed her head against the table. They could cut it off as far as she was concerned. But there was no way she was going down this hellhole without fighting to her last breath.

She opened her mouth as wide as she could, shoved hard with her tongue, rubbed her mouth against the rough plywood, hoping some little splinter of wood would grab on to threads in the rag.

“No need for you to get in a hurry now,” Kara said to Banjo. “Remember, we have an audience. That was part of the deal.”

Then, as though rising from some black hole, Gris Gris suddenly appeared. Shauna saw him clearly, saw how excited he was to be a spectator at this event. Simone, who was draped about his neck as usual, seemed to be exceptionally calm. Kara appeared alongside Gris Gris and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, does he plan on getting on with this or should I make reservations for a future matinee?” Gris Gris asked.

“Drop the big talk,” Kara said. “There’s no one here you need to impress. He’ll be done with her soon enough, and you’ll have your turn.”

Then Kara walked up to the table, leaned over, and looked Shauna right in the eye. “Poor, weepy baby. You see what you get for sticking your nose in other people’s business? You should have left it alone.”

Shauna looked deep into the woman’s eyes, hoping she could hear the question rolling over and over in her head. “Why—why?”

“Sometimes a woman just has to do what she has to do in order to survive in a man’s world,” Kara said. “You of all people should know that, Shauna MacDonald—Keeper of the weres.” She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Keeper, you can’t even keep your legs closed. You’re out there whoring around with a were, tainting the breed. Then you have the nerve to go around acting like you’re going to save us all? Oh, I think not.”

“Now who’s highbrow talking?” Gris Gris asked. “Tell your boy to go on about his business. Dip his wick and get it over with, so I can have my turn.”

“My turn now—mine,” Banjo said, and wiggled against Shauna again.

Kara laughed and stood up, placed the vial right in front of Shauna’s face so she could see it. A fine brown powder that looked like it had glitter mixed in with it was packed inside the vial.

“You see, the mistake a lot of women make, the mistake you made, MacDonald, is thinking a woman’s power is between her legs. It’s not. It’s right here in this vial, and I own it. Granted, it was easier for me to get the information I needed to make this happen by appreciating what power I do have between my legs. That’s how I discovered this little secret. An old, horny, blabbering idiot from the council was more than happy to spill his guts for a chance to dip into my honey pot. Sadly, the council got rid of him, because they caught him stealing something or other, but that’s okay. I got what I needed and didn’t really have a use for him anymore. Now everything belongs to me.”

“Simone is getting anxious, Kara,” Gris Gris said. “Let’s get this over with. I want my turn before we have to dispose of her. Too bad, too. Good-looking girl like that. Can’t help it now, though. You and that stupid kid spilling your guts the way you did. Somebody needs to staple both of your fat mouths shut. Now get on with it, boy, or I’ll get me a piece of you instead.”

Shauna caught a glimpse of Gris Gris petting Simone. And his other hand was petting his groin.

Oh, God—God!

She knew how this would end. How it all was going
to play out. Banjo would get his turn at her while Gris Gris watched. Once Banjo was done, the fat man would take his turn. When both were done, Kara would finish her off, kill her if for no other purpose than to make sure she stayed silent—forever.

Giving one more hard thrust with her tongue, the rag suddenly popped out of Shauna’s mouth, and she opened her mouth wide to scream. No matter where she was, no matter how far away this place was from anything else, she had to try.

Shauna drew in a quick, deep breath and forced it out to give the scream volume. But a scream didn’t come out of her mouth. Instead, it was a loud, off-pitch howl—the sound of a wolven calling for help. It was long and loud and vibrated from her—from the very center of her. She thought of the way she growled and made other animal noises when she and Danyon made love.

Then she understood.

This howl was her call to him, an acknowledgment of the love she had for Danyon and that she knew that love to be endless, timeless. This was her soul calling out to its mate—crying out for him—

One last time. “Woooah!” Banjo yelled, and Shauna felt him back away from her. “Shut her up—shut her. Kara, make her stop. Voodoo man, put the hoodoo on her—put it on, like you do with the weres. You gotta—she sound like one—sound it. Shut her up—shut up!”

While Banjo, Kara and Gris Gris yelled at one another, Shauna forced the last bit of air out of her lungs, squeezing the last sound out of her raw vocal chords.
It wasn’t much, and what little she had she was losing quickly, but it was enough to keep Banjo freaked out.

“Just hurry up, you stupid weasel,” Gris Gris yelled.

“If you are so anxious for it, old man, why don’t you go first?” Kara asked.

“Just do it, boy. Finish what you started. Go on, finish it up.”

“I can’t, can’t—can’t. You hear her? She sound like them—can’t. Do your hoodoo—make her stop!”

“For heaven’s sake, old man, just go over there and get your stuff. The boy ain’t gonna do it.”

“You know I can’t do anything unless I watch first,” Gris Gris said. “You know the drill.”

“Hold up—hold up!” Banjo exclaimed. His voice two octaves higher and excited. “Got it back—I—got it back.

It’s all good—good to go. Looka here—rocky solid—good. Gonna get me some—get some! Rock solid, good to go! Gonna get some—gonna get some!”

Shauna tried desperately to make a sound—scream, a howl, anything. All she managed was the weakest of howls, so low she could barely make it out.

“Now, look here at what she did! I can’t now—shut her up, Kara. Shut her—shut! It’s no good no more—all gone. Shut up—you, shut up!”

Shauna suddenly felt a slap on the back of her thigh. She twisted, bucked, wiggled. Her voice might have been gone, but whatever energy she had left, she planned to wring it dry.

“Stop your jabber-talking,” Kara shouted at Banjo. “It
drives me up a goddamn wall! You wanna stop the bitch from making noise—this is how you do it.”

Shauna saw black hair, a plaid shirt—a cocked fist up in the air. Kara let out a long, low growl, and Shauna squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the punch, praying it would be hard enough to knock her out.

A sudden crash and the sound of shattering glass pried Shauna’s eyes open wide. In that moment, she caught a flash of something huge racing toward them, a second later it sprang into full view.

It was a massive, mahogany-brown wolven, teeth bared, his eyes locked on Banjo. Shauna’s heart triple-timed in her chest and thundered in her ears. The wolven was Danyon, she knew it as sure as she knew her own name.

Then, as quickly as the wolven appeared he vanished, his mass flying by her, then out of sight. She heard a growl loud enough to wake the dead, and a heartbeat later came a long shrill, then the ripping and tearing of flesh.

Shauna squeezed her eyes shut against the sounds, wanting to tap into that small light in the center of her mind—her peaceful place.

But there were too many screams—too many shrill, tortured, horrific screams.

Then Kara yelling—Gris Gris shouting back—more tearing and shredding of flesh. Crashing, thudding, feet racing over concrete…silence.

It felt like hours had gone when Shauna suddenly felt hands around her ankles. She jumped, startled, and tried
to scream. All that came out was a raspy whisper. Then she heard the most beautiful sound—Danyon’s voice.

“Shh, it’s okay now. It’s me, Shauna, it’s me.”

The next thing she knew she was cradled in Danyon’s arms. She wept as he held her close, rocking her as he would a troubled child. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her wet cheeks.

Danyon had never known anger as he did when he saw Banjo standing behind Shauna, naked from the waist down and ready to enter her, to defile her. And the sneer on Gris Gris’ face… And Kara Matiste. He had known she was odd, that there was something very different about her, but he never would have suspected this.

When he had seen them all together, he wished with his entire heart he could have been in three places at one time. But it wasn’t possible, so he’d had to pick one. Banjo was the greatest threat, so he became Danyon’s primary target. He made sure Banjo understood suffering, when he’d torn through his chest, his arms, his groin, making him feel every ounce of pain to the fullest before he ripped his throat out and watched him drown in his own blood.

By that time, Kara and Gris Gris were no longer in the warehouse, having scampered away like rats. But they were of little concern to him right now. They’d be found soon enough. His priority now was Shauna.

She curled into him closer, held on to him tight. “How…how did you find me?” she asked, her voice shaky and hoarse.

“It was easy,” he said. “You called for me.”

She lay silent for a moment, then nodded and closed her eyes.

Danyon smoothed the hair from her brow. She had indeed called to him. Like an alpha female calling for her mate. It was then that Danyon knew without any doubt that Shauna not only understood his true nature, she was part of it. She knew him. She may have been human, but she was still part of his true nature. She knew him in ways he could have only hoped for.

He tightened his arms around her, feeling such a swell in his chest and heart that there was no denying the power of the love he had for her. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, Shauna was his mate—his alpha.

S
t. Louis Cathedral was the perfect location to hold the wedding of the year.

The colossal, three-steepled basilica was a masterful confluence of Spanish Colonial and Renaissance architecture. Its high rococo-gilded altar included columns with busy entablature. Two rows of wooden columns divided the church into center and side aisles with a view of the gallery. Its massive organ towered at least fifty feet above the choir loft, and its pipes ranged from a few inches to over thirty feet in height.

It was in this aged splendor, under a massive stretch of sculptured, hand-painted ceiling that Father Antoine’s voice echoed when he said, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

The cathedral erupted with cheers and applause so
loud Shauna expected the thousands of pieces of multi-colored stained glass to shatter. Even if they had, she doubted anyone would notice. Vampires, werewolves, shape-shifters, and humans; all of them laughing and cheering, so happy for the new couple.

Outside, a twelve-piece, brass band was already playing the traditional rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Saxophones, trombones, tubas and trumpets, along with bass and snare drums were warming up for the second line wedding march, which would take dancing celebrants all the way down to Decatur Street.

Shauna couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of so many different races with various skin colors, faiths and beliefs, all celebrating as one. It made her overwhelmingly happy.

This
was the New Orleans she loved, and who loved her back—where friends, neighbors and family had enough faith in each other to put their differences aside and celebrate life—share life.

This was so different from all the turmoil they had gone through this past year, which, at this moment, seemed a thousand years ago.

It had been four months since Nicole, Simon and Teddy’s death, and the nightmare Shauna had lived through in that warehouse. It had taken two of those months for Shauna to feel some semblance of normalcy and stop looking over her shoulder every time she walked down a street.

Kara had been tracked down not that long ago. She had been found hiding out in a deserted cabin out in a
pine forest in Alexandria, Louisiana. August had been the one to take her to Atlanta, where she faced the were-council and magistrate, both of whom were responsible for the were packs living along the entire southern rim of North America. August had returned from that trip alone, and when he did, he looked as though he had aged a hundred years. No one asked him about Kara, and he never offered any information. Judging from his haggard face, and the haunted look in his eyes, it wasn’t hard to imagine the severity of the magistrate’s sentence and Kara’s punishment.

Two weeks following Kara’s capture, Gris Gris’ body, or what was left of it, was found floating in the marsh by three local fishermen, just north of Lake Pontchatrain. The cause of death had yet to be determined, and Shauna suspected that with the handful of wolven who worked for the coroner’s office and as filing administrators for the Clerk of Court, it might never be. Either that or the death would be labeled accidental. After all, considering the enormity of the man, it wasn’t hard for one to imagine Gris Gris falling out of a skiff…unable to swim…

Some things in life simply had no direct answers. And some had no answers at all.

As for Banjo, Danyon had had to stand before the vampire council, which included David Dulac, and give an account of all that had transpired that day in the warehouse. After only a few hours of questioning, the matter was dismissed, and Danyon had been free to go.

As the jazz band grew louder outside, everyone gathered in the center aisle of the cathedral, ready to head
outside and take their place in the second line. Every woman here looked so beautiful dressed in their finery and the men very handsome, especially Jagger in his black, long coat-tailed tuxedo. Amidst the tangle of suits, tuxedos, taffeta dresses, and ball gowns, Shauna caught only a glimpse of the satin, beaded chapel train before the bride was whisked away.

Shauna didn’t know how weddings were celebrated in other cathedrals around the country, but old St. Louis seemed to relish the clapping, whistling and joyous chatter.

As everyone filed through the front doors of the Cathedral, Rita Quinn, August’s assistant, handed each attendee a white, linen handkerchief. The handkerchiefs were a customary and necessary part of a wedding’s second line, for celebrants waved them in the air as they danced their way to the reception.

So much happiness on the heels of so much pain.

It seemed like the universe had a way of balancing out the good and bad one had to experience in life. Sometimes it felt like the scales tipped too far to the left and stayed that way too long. But sooner or later, without fail, the universe shifts, and tips that scale in the other direction. Maybe the key to finding peace in life was understanding that times were not always good, but they were not always bad. And if you can learn to straddle the center of that scale as it tips first one way, then the other, life might feel much more balanced.

Trailing the procession out of the church, Shauna squinted against the brilliance of a cloudless June day.

The jazz band had already started its march, the musicians bouncing, dancing and swaying as they played their instruments.

Following directly behind the band, were the happy bride and groom, both dancing and clapping, determined to celebrate this day for all it was worth. Shauna felt like her heart would burst with joy as she watched the two of them from the top step of the Cathedral—the new Mrs. Lurnell Clarice Johnson and her long awaited new husband, Tyree.

Trailing the newly married couple was Jagger DeFarge and Fiona, who looked stunning in her satin, emerald green dress. As it turned out, Tyree was in his second year of training as a detective for the NOPD’s eighth precinct. Jagger had been his supervisor since day one, and the two had become close friends. Since Tyree had no biological brothers, he had asked Jagger to be his best man.

Behind the best man and his beauty were Caitlin and Ryder, both waving handkerchiefs in the air and bouncing in time with the music.

Not remembering a time when she had felt this happy, Shauna danced her way down the steps of the Cathedral and waved her handkerchief. Sunlight set the two karat diamond on the ring finger of her left hand ablaze, and sparkles of light danced to their own tune.

The stone was indeed magnificent.

But not nearly as magnificent as the precious Stone dancing beside her.