That’s why post-Shift Atlanta’s movers and shakers preferred both a show of power and dressing to impress. Still, if you did dress like a badass, you had better be able to back it up.
When I woke up in the morning, a pair of gray jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a gray leather jacket waited for me, folded on top of a gray cloak edged with fur. Just as I requested. Gray was the Pack color. I was going to put on a show for the Guild and this was my costume for it. I put the clothes on, added my boots, my saber in the back leather sheath, my throwing knives, and my wrist guards filled with silver needles. I braided my hair away from my face and examined myself in the mirror. I was broadcasting dangerous loud and clear.
Normally I stayed away from clothes like that. The less attention I drew when I worked, the better. Most mercs knew I was good at my job, but I wasn’t very impressive. I didn’t put on a show. Some of them had problems with me, most didn’t. Today was different. Today I needed to be less Kate Daniels and more Pack Consort. I needed to knock them off balance, so they wouldn’t question why I showed up there and told them what to do.
I marched into the bathroom, where Curran was brushing his teeth. His blond eyebrows crept up. “That’s your Council meeting outfit from now on.”
I laughed. “Cloak or no cloak?”
“Definitely cloak,” he said.
I tried the cloak on in front of the mirror.
Curran came up behind me and nuzzled my neck.
“Is that your gun or are you just happy to see me?”
“Mhm, a challenge.” He nipped the skin on the back of my neck, sending electric aftershocks down through me. Some men got excited by white lace and a translucent negligee. My love muffin got excited by a woman dressed to murder. There was probably something deeply twisted about that. Lucky for me, negligees were never my thing.
He kissed me again. “You’re finally getting the hang of this whole badass thing.”
“I was always badass.”
“No, you thought you were badass and talked a lot of crap.” He wrapped his arms around me.
Aha. “Let me go.”
“You have time.” He kissed my neck again. Every nerve in my body came to attention.
“No, I don’t. I have people waiting.” I pulled free from him and kissed him back. He pulled me close, locking me within his arms. Mhm, Curran. I really didn’t want to leave.
“Come on.”
“No. Have to go.”
“It won’t take long.”
“Who would that be fun for, exactly? Your seducing techniques need work.” I untangled myself and escaped, before he thought of something else to say to change my mind.
It took me ten minutes to stop by the medical ward.
Roderick’s collar has faded to lemon yellow. The skin around it had turned bright red, inflamed. It hurt just to look at it. I crouched by him. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay, thank you.”
“Does it hurt to eat?”
“A little,” he said.
“I’m going to see someone today to figure out how to take that thing off.”
He just looked at me with his big eyes. Deep down, he must’ve been scared. His sister had died. His parents were gone. But he held it all inside and he wasn’t about to let me in.
Before I left, Doolittle drew me aside. His face was bleak. “You must hurry.”
“I’ll do my best,” I told him.
When I walked into the morning light, ten Pack vehicles waited for me. The crews of the vehicles stood in front of them wearing identical gray. Jim stood to the side, surveying the troops. I approached him.
“Satisfied, Consort?”
“How long are you going to be pissed off?” I asked him. We both kept our voices low.
He stared straight ahead.
“Jim, we had a verbal disagreement. I was an ass, but you withheld information. The way you’re acting, you’d think I got some guys to jump you and work you over until you woke up with bites on your legs and bruises all over your body.”
“It’s different now, because we’re both Pack. I’ve told you I was sorry about that. Are you going to keep dragging it out every time?”
“It was a shitty thing to do.”
He locked his teeth, making his jaw muscles bulge.
I sighed and started toward the cars. “Suit yourself.”
“I always do,” he called out.
I turned around and flipped him off.
He glared at me.
I kept walking.
“Kate!” he called out.
I turned.
“Eduardo is your second. You need to talk to him. He wants you to practice something.”
I nodded.
“Kate!”
I turned around.
Jim approached me. “Do you need me to watch your back for this Guild thing?”
“I got it. Thanks,” I said.
“Anytime.”
I went in search of Eduardo. Jim was an ornery bastard, but he did have my back. At least he wasn’t mad anymore. I would probably have to make a peace offering all the same. The werejaguars were difficult creatures.
I’d have to get Dali to help me pick a gift. That way there would be no misunderstandings.
The Mercenary Guild made its headquarters in a converted Sheraton Hotel on the edge of Buckhead. In another life the hotel, built as a hollow tower, had a solid glass front, complete with a rotating glass door. Now massive steel gates marked the entrance. As our procession rolled up to the hotel, I could see a few mercs milling about and smoking. Most of the Guild personnel were probably inside already. Perfect.
Next to me, Eduardo leaned forward in the Jeep’s driver seat. A werebuffalo from Clan Heavy, he was over six feet tall and layered with thick muscle. His hair fell down his back in a black mane. His square chin and deep-set eyes said that he would rather die than back down. That impression was one hundred percent correct. I had a problem with a part of his plan and argued with him about it until I turned blue in the face, but he wouldn’t budge, which was probably why Jim had assigned him to be my second for this venture.
“Wait until we line up before you go in, Consort,” he murmured.
“Kate.” We’d been on a first-name basis for a while now.
“Not today, Consort.”
The ten Jeeps turned in unison, parking next to each other in front of the building. The mercs at the entrance forgot to suck at their cigarettes and stared.
The car doors opened. The shapeshifters stepped out, forming two lines with a military precision, their faces solemn. I glanced at Eduardo.
“Not yet,” he said.
The shapeshifters marched into the Sheraton, looking like they would chew through anybody dumb enough to stand in their way.
“I’m going to get out and go ahead. Derek will open your door. When you exit, keep walking, like you own the place,” Eduardo said. “We’ve got your back.”
“Watch it, bison,” Jezebel growled from the backseat. She was one of the two bouda advisors Aunt B, the alpha of the werehyenas, had attached to me. “You talk to her like she’s a child.”
I held up my hand. “It’s okay. I got it.”
“No worries,” Eduardo said. “You’ll do fine.”
There were few things I hated more than being the center of attention. Especially if the crowd was large.
Eduardo stepped outside. The passenger door behind me opened and Jezebel and Derek got out. Jezebel was six feet tall, moved like a predator, and had enough hard muscle on her to make me think twice about trying to take her on. Derek was leaner and younger, but his face and bearing made an instant impression.
Derek opened the door. “My lady.”
The arrogant, self-assured face of my aunt flashed before me. I would be Erra for today.
Eduardo stomped toward the Sheraton like a mountain with a “make my day” face.
I stepped out and marched on the Guild, imagining there was an army at my back.
Eduardo cleared the iron gates, sucked in a lungful of air, and roared. “Make way for the Consort!”
Oh boy.
Eduardo stood to the side. I strode through the gates and the lobby. Eduardo fell in behind me.
Before the Shift, the hotel was a many-star establishment, complete with an on-the-premises restaurant, a coffee shop, and a happy hour area raised on a three-foot platform. Mercs filled the main floor now. The twin lines of shapeshifters had sliced through the crowd, forming an empty corridor leading toward the platform. They stood like statues, hands behind their backs, feet together. A lone table waited for me. Mark sat on the left, his face pale. On the right Bob Carver and Ivera gawked at me with owl eyes.
I walked to the platform with my head held high, my cloak flaring. The entirety of the Guild focused on me. Super.
At the platform Eduardo sped up, drawing even with me. He took a knee, locked his left fist on his right wrist, and offered me the makeshift step.
Do not fall, do not fall, do not fall…
Without breaking my stride, I stepped onto his arms and then onto the platform.
We’d practiced it at least two dozen times before we had left for the Guild.
The three shapeshifters—Derek, Eduardo, and Jezebel—turned, their backs to the platform, and glowered at the crowd. Derek carried a large wooden box. The two lines of shapeshifters stepped to the left as one, snapping into a wider stance.
Someone gasped.
Showtime.
“I speak for the Pack,” I said, putting all my power into my voice. “We hold twenty percent of the Guild. The admin group holds forty. The veterans hold another forty.”
You could hear a pin drop.
“You’ve had months to choose a leader. You have failed and asked the Pack to break this deadlock. This is my proposal to the Guild. Listen well, because there won’t be another.”
They were listening. Thank you, Universe, for small favors.
“Solomon Red envisioned this Guild as a place for independent men and women to earn their living in the way they see fit. We must continue the course he plotted for us.”
It was bullshit. Solomon Red didn’t have that grand of a vision, but Curran had suggested it, so I plowed on ahead.