Dead After Dark (2 page)

Fury checked his peripheral vision to make sure none of the bear clan were nearby. Then he gave a pointed look at Margery. “We have a bit of Wolf business, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s all right. I need to get back upstairs anyway. The Litarian’s mate had to be tranqed earlier and she should be coming out of it any moment.” She stepped past him to slap the bar to get the Bear’s attention. “Remi, give me one more bottle and I’m back to work.”

Fury choked at her words. “Glad I’m not the patient.”

Margery gave him a chiding glare. “It’s for Carson.”

He snorted. “And I repeat what I said. Just what I need, a bunch of drunk fucks working on me.” He met Sasha’s amused expression. “Remind me not to do anything stupid tonight. Oh wait, I’m here. Too late for that warning, huh?”

Sasha ignored that question as he crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to one leg. “What do you need, Fury? We’re not exactly friendly.”

Fury led him a few feet away from where Remi was handing off another bottle of beer to Margery. “I know, but you’re the only wolf the Peltiers aren’t suspicious of and the only one I could trust to get this to Aimee.” He palmed the small note into Sasha’s hand. “Make sure you wipe your ass with it or something to get the stench of Fang off it. I did what I could, but he’s pretty fragrant.”

Sasha looked less than pleased by the request. “You know the last time I involved myself in subterfuge, I was mortally wounded and branded, and saw my entire clan put down over it. Take my advice and don’t let your brother drag you down with him.”

“Yeah, but I’m not stepping in between two gods.” Which was what had almost gotten Sasha killed. “I’m just doing a favor for my brother.”

“That’s what I told myself, too. But the problem with family, they get you into shit and then abandon you to it. Or worse, get themselves killed off.”

It was true, and he knew it. But he owed Vane and Fang for welcoming him in when no one else ever had.

For his brothers alone, he was willing to die.

“So will you give her the note?”

Sasha ground his teeth. “I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

Actually Fang owed him, but . . . they were brothers, and for the first time in his life, he understood what that meant. “I know and I really appreciate it.”

Sasha slid the paper into his back pocket. “You know what really kills me over this is that I’ve never seen two animals act more human. What kind of Romeo-Juliet bullshit are they playing anyway?”

Fury shrugged. “Hell if I know. He says she’s the only one who understands him. Given the girly way he’s been acting lately, I actually agree with that ’cause I definitely don’t get any of it. If he starts wearing lipstick and pink, I vote we take him out and shoot him. Put his whiny ass out of
my
misery.”

The corner of Sasha’s lips curled up as if he were trying not to smile.

“What are
you
doing here?”

Fury tensed at the sound of Nicolette “Mama” Peltier’s deep French accent. Since his brother was making time with Mama’s only daughter, Aimee, he more than understood her hostility toward their entire clan, but it didn’t mean that he appreciated the tone.

He started to tell her what she could do with it, but before he could draw breath to answer, Sasha spoke up. “I asked him to come. I wanted to warn him about what happened to the Litarian.”

Mama relaxed a degree, but her expression was still deeply troubled. “That’s bad business there.” She cast her gaze around the room as if looking for someone suspicious. “May the gods take mercy on us all if we don’t stop the ones behind this. I shudder at the thought of what else they might be capable of.”

So did Fury. “Are the bears doing anything to find out who’s responsible?”

She shook her head. “
Non
, the laws of sanctuary prohibit it.”

“Then I’ll do some digging.”

Sasha snorted. “You just can’t help this kamikaze streak you have, can you?”

Fury grinned. “Not really. I find it easiest if I just go with it rather than fight it. Besides, if someone is screwing with us, I want to know who and how. Most of all, I want their throat for it.”

Respect glowed in Nicolette’s eyes. She looked at Sasha. “Take him upstairs before too many scents contaminate the lion so that he can track the ones who did this.”

Sasha inclined his head to Nicolette before he motioned for Fury to follow after him.

Fury didn’t speak as they left the bar and headed through the kitchen and into Peltier House. Once they were out of sight of any humans, Sasha used his powers to vanish and pop into the doctor’s office on the second floor. Fury was a little more cautious.

Because no one had mentored him on how to use his magick when he hit puberty, his control of it was less than desirable. More to the point, he refused to let anyone know just how little control he had. No one knew his shortcomings and lived to tell them.

So he walked up the stairs to the rooms that were set aside for medical aid.

As soon as he entered the small office area, he saw Margery, Carson, and Sasha waiting for him.

“Why didn’t you follow me?” Sasha snapped.

“I did.”

“Yeah but—”

Fury interrupted him. “I’m not leaving a power trail for one of you assholes to use against me. Walking works for me. So where’s this lion?”

Carson stepped to the back of the office where another door led into the hospital area. “I have him in here.”

Fury followed him. As soon as he entered the sterile room, he froze. There was a woman leaning over the lion on the gurney, weeping. She had one hand buried deep in his mane while the other was lying palm-up on the table. In the
center of her palm was the elaborate design that marked her as someone’s mate. The affection she showed toward the lion made it a safe bet that he was hers.

“Anita?” Carson said gently. “This is Fury Kattalakis. He’s here to help find the ones who did this.”

Sniffing, she lifted her head to give him a look that said she wasn’t impressed with his offer. “My pride is after the ones who caused it.”

“Yeah,” Carson said gently, “but the more trackers we have, the more chances to find them and hopefully get a cure.”

“We are lions—”

”And I’m a wolf,” Fury said, cutting her off. “If I need raw brutality and force, I’ll call you. But if you’re looking for someone who did you wrong, nothing tracks better than one of us.”

Carson put his hand on the woman’s arm. “He’s right, Anita. Let him see if he can help us find the culprits before they prey on someone else.”

She tightened her hand in the lion’s mane before she got up and stepped away.

Fury approached the table slowly. “Is he fully animal or does he retain any human rationale?”

Carson sighed. “We’re not sure.”

Those words wrung a deep sob from the woman.

Fury ignored her and approached the table. The lion growled low as Fury neared him. It was an animal warning. The wolf inside Fury rose to the forefront, but he tamped it down. While the wolf might want to fight, the man knew a lion would tear him up. Sometimes it was good to have human abilities, even if those sometimes went to war with his wolf’s heart.

“Easy,” he said in a level tone as he balled his hand into a fist to protect his fingers. If there was nothing inside the lion but animal, it would respond to any hostile or fear pheromones
it smelled. He held his hand out slowly so the lion could catch his scent and intent.

The lion swatted at him but didn’t hurt him. Good. Fury put his hand on the lion’s back. Leaning closer, he felt the muscles shifting, but they weren’t bunching to attack. He breathed in and smelled the scent of Carson, Margery, the female lion, and others. But it was the lightest smell that sent him reeling . . .

A wolfswan.

Fury looked at the lioness. “Have you been around any other Lykos?”

Anita indicated the wolf by Carson. “Sasha.”

“No,” Fury said slowly. “Female.”

Anita scoffed. “We don’t mix with other breeds. We are purists.”

Maybe . . . but there were other scents he picked up on, too. Jackal, panther, and wolf. “When were you around a jackal?”

“Never!” she spat, indignant at the mere suggestion. The jackals weren’t exactly anyone’s favorite breed. In the land of outcasts, they were the omega animals. The ones everyone avoided and picked on.

Sasha moved closer. “I smell it, too.”

Carson exchanged a worried look with Margery. “Anita, tell us everything you can remember about the ones who attacked your mate.”

“I didn’t see them. Jake was out with his brother, in natural form, just running to run. They were harming no one. His brother said that a tessera of Arcadians flashed in and came at them. They fought, and the Arcadians shot Jake with something, and he went down hard. Peter ran for help.”

“Where’s Peter now?” Fury asked.

A tear slid from the corner of her eye. “Dead. Whatever
they shot hit him in the head. He only lived long enough to tell us what happened.”

Carson handed her off to Margery before he led Sasha and Fury out of the room. “I’ve dug through Peter’s head and couldn’t find anything. There’s no entry wound, no exit wound, no blood. Nothing. I don’t know what killed him.”

That didn’t bode well. “Magick?” Fury asked.

Carson shook his head. “But what would be that powerful?”

Sasha shifted his weight. “The gods.”

Fury disagreed with that. “I didn’t smell a god. I smelled us.”

Sasha let out a long sigh. “You know how many Lykos patrias exist?”

“Since I’m the Regis for the Katagaria, yeah, I do. There are thousands of us and that’s just in this time period.” What he didn’t tell them was that the scent was one he was more than familiar with. One from a past he’d done his damnedest to forget. “I’m going to do some digging around and see what I can come up with.”

“Thank you,” Carson said.

Fury disregarded his gratitude. “No offense, I’m not doing this for you. I’m worried about my people. We need to know what’s causing him to hold onto his form.”

“And if it’s reversible,” Sasha added.

Fury nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Hey, Fury?”

He turned to Sasha who hit his chest three times with his fist, then swept his hand down. A silent gesture to let him know Sasha wouldn’t forget to give the letter to Aimee. He inclined his head respectfully before he left the room and headed downstairs.

But with every step he took, his long-buried memories burned through him. He went back in time to a woman who
had once been his entire world. Not his lover or relative, she’d been his best friend.

Angelia.

And in one heartbeat, when his brother had told his clan what he really was, she’d not only betrayed her sacred promise to him, she’d tried to kill him. He could still feel the bite of her knife as she drove it in to the hilt—the scar was still jagged on his chest just inches from his heart. The truth was, she hadn’t really missed that organ. Her words to him had done more damage than any weapon ever could.

If she was behind this, he’d make sure it was the last mistake that bitch ever made.

Angelia hesitated inside the infamous Sanctuary bar. They’d popped into the third level of the limani—the area that had been designated for those teleporting in so that no one would see them—and were now trying to get the lay of the foreign landscape. Dimly lit, the club’s ceiling was painted black, and the walls were made of dark red brick. Black railings and trim added to the cave-like feeling of the place.

She’d spent most of her life in medieval England, preferring the open countryside and untainted air to the chaos of twenty-first-century life. Now she knew why. Buildings like this were claustrophobic. She was used to thirty-foot arched ceilings. The flat one above her head couldn’t be more than ten feet, if that.

Skittish, she eyed the electric lights around her. As a Were-Hunter, she was susceptible to electrical currents. One tiny jolt and she could lose control of not only her magick, but her human appearance as well.

How did her people live in these horribly crowded and overly electrified places? She’d never understand the appeal. Not to mention the clothes . . .

She wore a pair of blue coarse pants and a white top that, while it was soft, was very strange.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispered to her companion Dare.

He stood a full head and shoulders above her. At first glance his hair looked dark brown, but in reality it was made up of all colors: ash, auburn, brown, black, mahogany, even some blond. Long and wavy, that hair was more beautiful than any male’s should be. She, herself, would kill for it. Yet he thought nothing about it or the fact he was unbelievably sexy and hot. Not that she’d ever sleep with him. He was practically Katagaria with the way he went through women, and as an Arcadian female, she found that animalistic behavior repugnant.

Still, he was one of the fiercest wolfswains in her patria, and the women of her clan had been fighting over him for centuries.

Tonight he was out for blood.

Luckily it wasn’t hers.

He turned those smug hazel-green eyes on her. “If you’re scared, little girl, go home.”

She barely stamped down the urge to shove him in anger. His arrogance had always rubbed her the wrong way. “I fear nothing.”

“Then follow and remain silent.”

She made an obscene gesture behind his back as he headed for the stairs. That was the one drawback to living in the past. Male egos. Here she was, an Aristos, one of the most powerful of their breed, and he still treated her like she was his inferior waste.

Gods, how she wanted to beat him down.

But he was the grandson of their former leader and the
head of her tessera, so she was honor-bound to follow him. Even if she wanted to kill him.

Remember your duty
, she reminded herself. She and Dare were born of the Arcadian branch of Were-Hunters. Humans who had the ability to shift into animals. Their job was to police the Katagaria. The Were-Hunters who were animals able to shift into humans. Just because the Katagaria sometimes wore the skin of mankind didn’t make the beasts one of them. They had no understanding of human rationale, complex emotions, or decorum. At the end of the day, the Katagaria were still animals. Primal. Brutal. Unpredictable. Dangerous.