The wolf with the gun growled; aimed it steadily at me. I whipped my blade into a modified La Destreza stance and took two steps, edging between them and the SOD and Brute. I gave them my best menacing grin. Beast glowed through my eyes, a bright golden shade. The wolves stared.
“Furballs and hairballs with guns, working together,” I said wonderingly, giving the help behind me access and time to position themselves. “Who’da thunk it?”
Nantale stepped forward, ignoring my insults. “Jane Yellowrock. We are pleased to know that you still live. The Party of African Weres is happy to see you breathing.”
“Really?” I angled the blade, spinning it so the light caught the edges, so the dogs and cats could see the silver plating. A lot of paras were easily poisoned by silver, including were-creatures and vamps. But I didn’t have enough silver on me to take them all down. Come on, Wrassler. Get here. Move it! “The reason I disbelieve you, kitty cat, is because I recall you bringing Paka, a black wereleopard in heat, into NOLA and siccing the little kitty on my then-boyfriend.”
“We were not informed that Rick LaFleur was involved in a romantic relationship. It was unfortunate you suffered because of the spell she wove.”
Kem had known. I smelled, felt, sensed Wrassler and at least four others moving into the stairwell behind me. Finally. But I needed to stall. “You knew that Raymond Micheika, the leader of the International Association of Weres, paid Paka to do exactly as she did. But you might not know that Paka had taken a prior deal, from Kemnebi, to spell Rick and bring him intense pain, turning him into his cat and then leaving him that way. Forever. Terrible thing for a were to do to an officer of the law, wouldn’t you say?”
Asad slowly turned to Kem-cat, a question on his face. “Paka made parley with you prior to her agreement with us?”
“The woman lies,” Kemnebi said, speaking of me.
“You are impudent,” I said. “This woman is your alpha”—I tapped my chest with the hilt—“and though I never sent the video file to the Party of African Weres, I have you on film, groveling at my feet.
“Wrassler, now, if you please.”
Blood-servant-fast, my backup boiled into the basement. Now we were more evenly matched and my heart was no longer in my throat. I slowed the pirouetting vamp-killer and holstered the H&K. Kept my vamp-killer pointed at Kem. “Tell them,” I commanded.
“She smells of alpha. She smells of power and nothing of fear. Does she speak the truth? Is she your master?” Asad asked Kem, horror in his voice. Nantale looked at the SOD on the wall, indecision in her eyes.
“Not worth fighting all of us and a grindy to steal the bag of bones,” I said. Letting Beast into my voice, I growled, “Kneel, Kem-cat. Kneel and give me your throat or you die tonight for the crime of disloyalty to your alpha.”
Kem snarled and leaped at me.
The werewolf fired.
The Brit attacked him.
They tumbled onto the floor, biting, snapping. The gun went off again.
In the space of two heartbeats, everything went to hell in a handbasket.
CHAPTER 4
Not Everything in Were Culture Required Teeth
In midair, Kem’s claws came out; his hands sprouted black fur. His fangs extended. Kemnebi screamed in fury and challenge.
I pulled on skinwalker magics. Pulled on the power that made me Kem’s alpha.
Stepped aside at the last possible moment. Dropped low. Lifted the blade.
Slashed it across Kem’s body. The scream changed, a high-pitched squeal of the dying.
I tore my blade out of him, altering his angle of leap. His speed carried him past me. Blood splattered against the wall and over the Son of Darkness. Kem slammed into the wall next to the SOD, hung there a moment, like a parody, and slid to the clay floor, a bloody half-shifted leopard.
The elevator doors closed, taking the scent and sound of fighting werewolves and one of the security guys with it. No one else moved. The only sound was the piteous mewling of Kem and the drip of blood. And the soft indrawn breath of the SOD. The stink of gunfire and the stench of werewolf blood.
Beast is best hunter. Beast killed leopard.
“Kem will live, if he shifts,” I said, mostly to her.
Asad stepped closer and leaned down to observe Kemnebi, sniffing. “I don’t believe that he can shift. Silvered blades?” he asked. He sounded amused and his expression was the same one an overfed housecat might wear while watching a mouse stuck in a trap.
I hadn’t left any silver in him, but Kemnebi was prone to drinking lots of alcohol, maybe more than shifting could handle. If his liver was compromised and if I also cut his liver with a silvered blade . . . Well, crap. I said, “Make him shift.”
“No,” Nantale said. “By your own words you are his alpha. You are the only one here who might be able to affect a change to his cat.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Double crap. I walked into that with both feet. Asad smiled at me, showing large white teeth in his very dark face. Yeah. He thought this was all funny. Not a lot of love between African lions and leopards in the wild. Not a lot in the wereworld either. And so far as I knew, no nonwere had ever forced a were-creature to shift shape. Meaning, I likely couldn’t do it no matter how hard I tried, no matter that I was Kem’s alpha and had magic of my own. Were-shifting was very different from skinwalker shifting. I used the genetic structure of another creature to shift into the chosen shape. Were-creatures were that shape, their forms altered and changed by the were-prion.
I nudged the gasping cat with a foot. Thought about how Leo sounded when he called his people. Mesmerizing, compulsive, compelling, demanding. I wasn’t into convincing people to do what I wanted. I was more the stab-them-first-and-persuade-afterward kinda chick. That hadn’t worked so well here. I glared at the dying werecat.
“Ja—Enforcer,” Wrassler said, interrupting himself and going for professional instead of friendly. Not a good sign. “Kem did attack first; however, it would be . . . unfortunate if the leader of the PAW delegation were to die at your hand.”
“Uh-huh.” And then I had an idea. I was brilliant. “Get LaFleur down here. Tell him to run.” All that boring reading about paranormals and the proper way to react within and between species would come in handy now.
I heard Wrassler repeat my command into the comms system and I prodded Kem again. This time I got blood on my shoe. “Stay alive.” I almost added please, but that wasn’t an alpha word, so I said, “That’s an order.” I didn’t see an improvement, but maybe it helped. Who knew? While I waited, I cleaned my blade on Kem’s clothes and put it away. Then cleaned my shoe. I sensed disapproval from the African cats.
Beast wasn’t happy either, kneading my mind with her claws, a sensation that made me think my brain was bleeding. She had been in the mood for a good fight, and with Kem out so fast, she was being denied it. And now I was gonna try to save the cat she had almost killed. She was pouting. I ignored her.
Moments later I heard the elevator settle to the bottom. The doors opened and I smelled a female security guard and Rick. I didn’t look up and he stayed inside the elevator, the bright lights illuminating the scene. Yeah. There was too much blood. I had messed up.
Bruiser stepped into sub-five, walking from the stairs where I had stood. I could smell his worry as he took in the scene. I didn’t dare look at him. I was afraid I’d see a look in his eyes that would tell me how badly I’d screwed the pooch. Or screwed the cat.
“Rick, do you know this cat?” I asked, pointing.
“Yes.”
“Specify the relationship.”
The room went quiet again. Into the silence Bruiser asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Nope. Not at all. Rock, meet hard place.” To Rick I repeated, “Specify.”
He didn’t ask me questions, which I appreciated. He crossed the distance of the basement to me, his feet cat-silent, his silver and black hair the only thing catching the light and gleaming. “Kemnebi had taken my maker, Safia, his assistant, as mate, though she didn’t care for him. He never forgave me for seducing Safia’s affections, if not her body. I have been in his fangs.” The last line meant he had been at Kem’s mercy for teaching and the words were laced with revulsion. Kem had been a cruel master to Rick.