Magic Rises (Kate Daniels 6)

"May I ask why?"

"Did you have an argument with Ethan on Wednesday?"

Barabas drew himself back. Ethan was his guy and their relationship had started out great but now was going off the rails fast. "It wasn't an argument. It was a heated discussion."

"Do you know how I found out about it?"

"I'm sure you will tell me."

"I saw Jezebel marching off with a determined look on her face, and I had to spend the next half an hour explaining to her that breaking Ethan's legs would not help your relationship. She reacts with overwhelming force to any insult. We're going to a place where we'll be outnumbered, insulted, and constantly provoked. One wrong punch from her and we're done."

"Point taken," Barabas said. "I'll break it to her gently."

"How about Keira?" Jim said.

Curran raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Who's Keira?" I asked.

"My sister," Jim said.

"You have a sister?" I knew that Jim had a family. I'd just never met or seen any of them.

"He has three," Curran said.

"How come I never met her?"

"You have," Jim said. "You just don't remember because I didn't tell you who she was."

"Oh, so your family is only on a need-to-know basis, huh?"

He gave me a hard stare. "That's right."

When a joke flies past a sulking werejaguar, does it make a sound? "Are you sure you want to send your sister off across the ocean with us? Since I don't even rank high enough to meet her and all that."

"Keira is an Army vet," Jim said. "She's good and she won't turn on you."

I tried to picture a female version of Jim and got Jim in a dress instead. The image was disturbing.

"Did you at least ask her?" Curran asked.

"I know she'll go."

"Well, then she's in unless she says no."

I'd signed six things and my stack wasn't getting any smaller. It was like the paperwork was breeding while I worked.

"Where are you going to get a ship?" Jim asked.

"We can use a commercial freighter and catch a ride," Curran said.

"Won't work," Jim said. "Crossing the Atlantic is a bitch. You can get there in three weeks or so, but you may have to get out in a hurry, with ten drums of the panacea, and there is no guarantee the freighter will come back for another trip in time. You'll need to hire a ship and crew, and they will have to sit in port for about a month waiting for you."

"Then let's hire one," Curran said. "Or buy one. I don't care."

"I don't know if we can. It's not just a question of money. It's getting an experienced captain and crew on short notice." Jim drummed his fingers on the table and rose. "I need to get on that."

A young man walked up and stopped in the doorway. He moved with complete silence, like a ghost. Still lean, but on the way to filling out, he had short brown hair and the kind of face that made you stop in your tracks. Not that long ago, people stopped and stared because he was beautiful. Now they stopped because they weren't sure what a man with a face like that would do next.

Back when he was pretty, Jim had used him for covert work. People had discounted Derek Gaunt as a boy toy, but he missed nothing. He didn't exactly have a happy childhood. It made him ruthless, hard, and disciplined, and he dedicated himself to the task completely.

Then bad things happened and Derek's face paid the price. His good bone structure was still there, but trauma had thickened his clean lines and stripped any remnants of softness from his features. His brown eyes had turned hard and distant, and when he decided to be unfriendly, they went completely flat. I'd seen that kind of stare from veteran pit fighters. It said you weren't a human being. You were an object to be removed.

The stare worried me. Derek was a friend. Even if the entire Pack turned on me, he would stay in my corner. But the humor, the spark that used to make Derek who he was, was growing dimmer and dimmer. If it disappeared, Derek would be in a bad place. I'd been there and it was hard to claw your way out of that hole.

Curran pretended not to see him. Derek didn't say anything. He simply stood.

"Yes," Curran said without turning.

Derek nodded and walked away without a word. Now we had five: Barabas, George, Mahon, Derek, and tentatively Keira. The contract had specified that the Carpathians expected us to bring no more than fifteen people. Curran and I settled on ten, excluding ourselves. It was a nice number and it showed that we weren't afraid.

Jim was sitting there with that slightly glazed-over look in his eyes that usually meant that three fourths of his brain was engaged somewhere else.

"You okay?" I asked him.

He looked at me. "Where the hell am I going to find a ship . . . ?"

A guard approached the door.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Aunt B is here to speak with the Consort."

Meeting with the alpha of Clan Bouda was like sticking your hand into a garbage disposal. The switch could be flicked on at any second.

Curran got up. "I've got to go."

"Coward," I told him.

He grinned at me. "Later, baby. Come on, Jim, you have to go, too."

They took off down the hallway.

I looked at Barabas. "There is only one exit. How do they plan to get by her?"

"They'll hide in the guard room until she comes through. Shall I show Aunt B in?" Barabas asked.

"There is no escape, is there?"

"No."

I sighed. "Okay. Let's get this over with."

* * *

The alpha of Clan Bouda wore a cheery white sundress with an overlapping pattern of large red poppies. Her hair was rolled into a loose, carefree bun. A pair of sunglasses perched above her forehead. If you added a straw hat and a picnic basket, she would be all set.

Aunt B was in her early fifties, but the kind of fifties to which most women would aspire. Her skin was smooth, her makeup understated but expert, her figure generous but still athletic. Her lips smiled often, and her voice was all sweetness and cookies, but when she really looked at you, the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, because you realized that she was smart, ruthless, and dangerous as hell. She ruled the bouda clan, and anybody able to hold more than three dozen werehyenas in check should never be taken lightly. I'd seen her in action. Not many things gave me the creeps, but she managed. For now Aunt B was in my corner, but I had no delusions. Ours was a conditional kind of friendship: if I stopped being useful to her and hers, she'd forget my name.