Heir To The Pack (The Cursed Pack Book 1) (16 page)

He decided to buy some
time, see what the Russian wanted. “What do you want me to say, Ivan?”

“We are very unhappy with
you. But I hear some things, things that make me wonder if we can’t work out a
compromise.”

Dash waited. Now they would
get down to it.

“I hear you only found out
about the boy a couple of days ago. That you never formally mated the woman. And,
most interestingly, I hear the boy is ill.” Ivan smiled, and it was a broad,
smug, and unpleasant smile, with a few too many teeth. The smile spoiled his
good looks.

Dash worked hard at
keeping his expression neutral. He wanted nothing more than to smash in the
Russian’s teeth. That would put an end to the smile. “You hear a lot. Who told
you all that?” He’d find them. They’d pay.

“It’s not important where
I heard it. The important thing is what we would like from you.”

“Go on.”

“I want you to disavow the
woman and the boy. He is weak, and does not represent you as your offspring
should. The boy will never be Lycaon.”

Somehow in all the running
and fear and trying to get to know Jack and make peace with Annie and find
answers about Jack’s health, none of that had occurred to him. Jack wasn’t just
his son. He was his heir.

Holy shit.

Dash couldn’t believe how
stupid he’d been. He saw the attacks on his family in a whole new light, now. Someone
wanted to get rid of the heir to the pack. And right now, he sat across from
the chief suspect.

Red rage tinted his
vision, driving out rational thought, and he pushed his chair back from the table,
ready to tear out Ivan’s throat.

“My lord,” Gaelan said, “Would
you like me to show our visitors out?”

The unusual formality of
his tone brought Dash somewhat closer to earth. He couldn’t afford to kill Ivan
unless he was sure the man was responsible for the attacks. If he was wrong,
such a killing would likely do him out of the throne, handing it to their
enemies. He took a deep breath, and another. “A moment, please, Gaelan.”

“Ivan,” he said, managing
to achieve a pleasant tone. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Please convey
my apologies to Irina. I am happy to deliver them in person at a future time.” It
cost him, this politeness. But he had to be patient. He had to be sure who had
threatened his son. And then, he promised himself, he would rip them limb from
limb.

Ivan scowled, his brows
drawing together, painting his skin with two red lines. “Are we simply supposed
to accept this loss of face? Your behavior is unacceptable to us.”

“I’m sorry you feel
slighted. Although I meant no ill intent towards you or your sister, I
understand how you might have taken it that way. I can offer you some trade
concessions.” Giving the Russian anything would deeply piss him off, but he saw
the need, politically.

Ivan stood. “You can take
your trade concessions and shove them up your ass. Given your recalcitrance, we
will not be able to support you for the leadership.” Now the bastard smiled. He’d
been planning this all along.

Dash fought the urge to
clench his fingers into fists. “I appreciate your honesty.” He turned to
Gaelan. “Show them out.”

“With pleasure,” G
muttered. As Dash exited, he heard his second saying, “This way, gentlemen,
ma’am.”

He made his way back
toward his bedroom, wondering if Annie waited there for him. He didn’t want to
inflict his foul mood on her. Gods, all he wanted now was to go for a run in
the woods, get the Russian’s oily scent out of his nose, put the whole damn
thing behind him.

Elaine stood in the
hallway. She reached for him. “Did it go badly?” she said.

“You could say that,” he growled,
wanting to snap at her, but knowing it wasn’t fair to take it out on his aunt.

“I won’t ask you about it
now. You need to go to Annie. Jack’s taken a turn.”

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

No matter his
wolf-enhanced speed, Dash couldn’t get into Jack’s room fast enough. He
barreled past his aunt and down the hallway, stopping on the threshold of the
room, his heart beating in triple time.

He didn’t know what he’d
expected to see when he got there, but it wasn’t this.

Annie was on the bed, her
arms around Jack. The boy lay far too still for a child his age, his eyes open
but hazy, his thumb in his mouth. The pallor of his skin made Dash’s gut churn.
Annie stroked the boy’s hair, humming a tune that Dash couldn’t quite make out.

He hovered in the doorway,
not sure what he could do or say to help. His fingers twitched at his sides. He
needed to do something, but he was powerless.

Annie met his gaze. Her
face, too, was pale, the shadows under her eyes huge, but she smiled at him,
and she kept humming, kept stroking Jack’s hair.

The strength in her struck
Dash like a blow to the face. She might be lightly built, and unable to change
forms, and really far too much of an intellectual, but this was her strength,
the strength of a mother. The strength that despite the odds and horrors that
surrounded them made her a safe place, a happy place for her son. She’d keep
her own fears for later, he knew, when she wouldn’t upset Jack. Did she cry into
her pillow at night, or stare at the ceiling and hope for a cure?

Damn, there was something
in his eye. He scrubbed at it with the back of his hand.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Dash,” Annie said,
her voice calm. “Jackie wasn’t feeling very well, so we’re having a nice rest.”
His son said nothing, but he heard the rhythmic sucking as the boy comforted
himself with his thumb.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Oh, I think we’re fine,”
Annie said. “You can come take a rest with us if you need to.”

He couldn’t tell her how
much that invitation meant. Moving quietly, he laid down on the other side of Jack
from Annie, and put his arms around them both, gently, trying hard not to
disturb them too much.

Jack turned toward him and
snuggled into his chest. Dash froze, amazed again by the smallness of the boy’s
warm body against his. His face against Dash’s chest was hot, a reminder of why
they lay there. His scent drifted up to Dash’s nostrils, and Dash inhaled
deeply. Jack smelled sweet and clean, and as though he had recently eaten a
cookie. His scent comforted Dash, as it held no hint of his illness. He leaned
down and buried his nose in Jack’s shock of dark hair, absorbing the scent,
learning it, and committing it to heart.

He glanced up, and met
Annie’s gaze. Her face was soft, a smile at the corner of her lips. He smiled
back at her, caught in the sweetness of it all, and squeezed her back against
his hand.

He might not have planned
this family, but they were his, damn it, and he’d be damned if he was going to
let go. Ever.

*
         
*
         
*

Annie took strength from
Dash’s touch. The last hour had terrified her, and now the adrenaline had faded
from her system she felt enervated, exhausted.

Jack had been playing
happily, running around the living room, when he’d turned white and fainted. There
wasn’t a doctor or even an emergency room within a hundred miles of there. What’s
more, she knew now his condition wasn’t something doctors could fix. She was on
her own with this one. Just Mama and some damn werewolf curse.

And Dash, she amended. He’d
made it abundantly clear he intended to be a father to Jack. To begin with she’d
found it frightening, relinquishing sole control of him. But how could she not?
The look in Dash’s eyes now would melt icebergs.

She dozed awhile. When she
woke, Jack and Dash lay sleeping, tangled in each others arms, the boy a
miniature rendition of the man, mouths open, black hair mussed. Her heart
skipped a beat, and she reached to touch each of them before carefully
extricating herself from the puppy pile.

The suite lay quiet. In
the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water and tried to judge the time
from the angle of the sun. Looked like afternoon, but she couldn’t be sure. Daytime
sleep always disoriented her.

Marjie stepped into the
kitchen. She looked much better than she had back at the house, clearly
recovered from the stress of her vision. “Are the boys asleep?”

“They are.”

“I’m glad. They both need
it. Your mom is taking a nap as well.”

Annie inclined her head.

“What are you planning to
do next?”

Now that was a question. “I
don’t know,” she said, fighting the tide of hopelessness that washed over her
as she spoke the words. She put down the water glass and raised a hand to her
mouth, holding back a sob.

The older woman engulfed
her in a hug. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We will find a way to help you.”

Annie nodded, tightly,
afraid of breaking down again. “I wish I knew what to do.”

Gaelan’s voice broke in. “Sorry
to interrupt, but there’s a message for Annie.” The blond giant stood in the
doorway, a slip of paper in his hand. “From the Oracle.”

A rush of anxiety
accompanied his words, and she moved to him, taking the paper from his hand. It
was a small envelope, cream. It looked like a thank you note. Her fingers shook
as she fumbled to open it.

I
know how to help the boy. The greenhouse at 5pm.

She looked around,
searching for the time and found it on the microwave. 4.30.

“I have to go,” she said. “But
Dash is still asleep.”

“I’ll go with you,” Gaelan
said.

Doubt filled her mind. Would
it be safe? Her thoughts must have crossed her face, for Gaelan scowled.

“I’m his second, Annie,”
he said. “He trusts me with his life. That look is doing nothing for my ego, I
tell ya.”

Time flew as she shoved
her fingers through her hair, and pushed her feet into her sneakers.

“Marjie,” she said, “Will
you tell Jack and Dash where I am, when they wake up?”

The woman nodded, and
Annie headed out, with Gaelan at her heels. Guards fell in behind them.

When they were on their
way to the greenhouse, two things occurred to her in rapid succession. First,
she’d left her son without a second thought, despite his illness. She rather
thought she should feel guilty, but why should she? For the first time in his
life, he had a father, who cared about him, who would keep him safe. The
thought was a total revelation. Something had changed today. Something
important, and amazing. Her son had a father.

The second thing, far less
pleasant, was that she’d taken Dash’s warnings about safety to heart. Less than
two days had passed since she’d met the pack and already she was playing by
their rules. Would she ever be able to go anywhere alone again?

There was no time to
ruminate on that, because they arrived at the greenhouse. “A few minutes early,”
she said to herself, and was half surprised when Gaelan responded, “Only a few.”

He opened the greenhouse
door for her, and stopped dead, scenting the air. His face focused, and she
swore she saw his hackles rise.

“Something’s wrong,” he
said. “Wait here.”

“I won’t,” she said. “You
can’t go alone, and I don’t want you to leave me, either.”

He shot her a considering
glance. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Gesturing to the other
guards to take his place, he vanished inside.

Her nose was not trained
like the others, but she smelled it, too. Blood. In among the rich green scents
of growing plants and the earth beneath them, there was a sharp metallic tang,
overlaying something darker.

Gaelan swore sharply from
inside. Annie couldn’t bear it. What the hell was going on in there? She
strained to hear, but no further sounds came out.

He re-appeared, his face
set. “She’s dead,” he said.

She couldn’t believe it. The
Oracle couldn’t be dead. She knew how to help Jack. That knowledge could not be
gone. Annie flung herself past Gaelan, into the greenhouse, down the path.

“Fuck,” she heard from
behind her as she ran.

In the clearing with the pool
she instantly saw the source of the smell. She gasped, and brought her hand up
over her mouth, turning away from the sight that would be imprinted in her
memory forever.

The Oracle lay on her back
in the water feature, hands floating at her sides. Her throat had been torn
out, and her milky eyes stared sightlessly skyward.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Gaelan caught Annie by the
shoulder and turned her around. “You have to get out of here right now. Stand
guard,” he told the others. “I’m going to take Annie inside the house, where
it’s safe.” He seized her arm and marched her out of the greenhouse.

She quickened her steps,
but struggled to keep up with his stride. Her breath came in pants.

“We need to get the news
to him as soon as possible. I would carry you,” he said, “But Dash might kill
me.”

She nodded, and broke into
a jog as they entered the house. Gaelan took her a different way, up a narrow
set of back stairs, down a hallway, until they were back at the suite. He
rapped twice, sharply, on the door, and when a guard opened it, he pushed her
inside.

“I must get back,” he said
urgently. “Tell Dash.” With that, he vanished back through the door.

She took a long shuddering
breath. The Oracle. Dead. Flashes of the scene played in the front of her
memory like a bad horror movie. She could barely believe it.

Had she joined the ranks
of the bloodiest people on earth?

What was more, the Oracle
had died with the knowledge of how to help Jack. Dash had said there was a
price for magic. Annie would never know what price the Oracle would have
demanded for her magic, because the Oracle had paid it herself, in full.

Did the Oracle have an
understudy? Would anyone else know how to save Jack?

She couldn’t process it
all. But she had a task, and she would focus on that now, and deal with the
emotional fallout later. Stiffening her spine, she headed down the hall.

Dash and Jack were awake,
sitting on the floor and drawing with crayons. Relief flooded through her. Jack
was okay, that he was definitely doing better than earlier. A reprieve, for who
knew how long. She didn’t want to break up the father-son moment, but her news
couldn’t wait.

“Dash,” she said.

 
He looked up at her, the smile on his
face disappearing as he did so. “What’s up?” On his feet in an instant, he was
by her side in three strides.

“The Oracle is dead,” she whispered,
feeling like a character in a Greek tragedy. “In the greenhouse. Gaelan needs
you.”

His face, normally so
lively, grew still. He took both her hands and squeezed them once, hard. “Are
you okay?”

“Yes.” The word came out
more confident than she felt. He lowered his head to kiss her briefly,
fiercely, and the heat of it took her breath away. “I’ll be back,” he promised.
“Stay here.” He bent to kiss Jack’s head, too. And with that, he was gone.

Her lips tingled, feeling
the echo of that stormy touch.

God. God. What would she
do now? Who would help them? Who had done that awful thing?

 
She took a deep breath. Had to keep it
together for Jack’s sake, the same way she’d done every other day since he’d
gotten sick. She could do this. Forcing her calm-mama smile into place, she patted
down her shirt, and joined Jack on the floor. Inside, the maelstrom of emotion
threatened to overwhelm her.

Dash would help her come
up with a plan when he returned. She had to trust him. He knew how to navigate
these strange waters far better than she. For now, she would do the only thing
she could. Stay with her son. Keep him safe, as best she could.

*
         
*
         
*

What a fucking disaster. Dash
felt a surge of pity for the Oracle, floating in the pond like a dead goldfish.
She had been well over a hundred, and had earned the right to die quietly in
her sleep, not by having her throat torn out by some scum-sucking son of a
bitch.

There’d be hell to pay,
and as host and Lycaon-in-waiting, it was his job to collect the debt.

Gaelan said in his ear, “What
do you want to do about this cluster fuck?”

Dash shook his head in
disgust. “What scents can you pick up?”

“Not sure,” said the big
man. “There’s been a lot of traffic through here today, and I didn’t want to
scent the body directly and contaminate it before you got here.”

“Right,” Dash said. “I
want guards on all the entrances and exits, and tell them to keep their fucking
mouths shut until I can call the pack Alphas together and break the news. Let’s
check scent now.”

He reached for his other
form, shimmering below the surface, eager to break through. The wild joy of his
wolf body and spirit enveloped him, like coming home, a wave of warmth across
his skin as it turned to fur. Comfortable magic.

He dropped his nose to the
ground, trying to be open to all the scents the greenhouse held. The place was
an olfactory kaleidoscope of growing things, dirt, fertilizer, and the scents
of many werewolves.

He smelled the scents he
expected, those of everyone that had been in the meeting earlier. He catalogued
them. Annie’s light floral scent; Jack’s vanilla and cookies; his own
evergreen, all blended together into a family pack scent. Gaelan’s
testosterone-laden scent was everywhere, somewhere between wet leather and
diesel oil. He’d been playing with engines again.

As he drew nearer to the
body, his nose picked up three distinct scents, and began to tickle
uncontrollably. Dropping onto his hindquarters, he sneezed once, again, and finally
a third time.

The tickle lodged in the
front of his brain. Magic. Another pack’s magic, and breathing in deeply set
him off worse than a spoonful of hot rooster sauce under the nose.

Eyes watering, he sorted
through the scents. The other two threads of smell were unsurprising—the
Oracle’s own smell of lavender and old lady, and Michael, her servant, weakly
male and submissive. Over everything lay the stink of magic.

Dash headed further away
from the body, looking for tracks in and out of the greenhouse. There was a
single entrance, and he found no new scent trails leading in or out, only the
people he had scented so far.

Michael. He was the only
one unaccounted for at this point. Where the hell was he? His job was to go
everywhere the Oracle went, day or night, to serve her needs until death. It
was a time-honored role, but he was out of a job and in disgrace now.

Dash pushed the greenhouse
door open with his nose and slipped through it. Outside, he found Michael’s
scent trail. There were two here. One that came straight down the path, with
the Oracle’s own, and another, where Michael had walked alone. It was hard to
guess from scent which way someone had passed unless the scent was very fresh.
In that case he could tell by how strong it was as he followed it, because a
fresh scent grew stronger. The path away from the greenhouse appeared to be the
direction in which Michael had left. The magic scent lay along the trail as
well. Interesting.

Had he been with the magic
user, or was he one himself? Dash had never seen him use any kind of spell, and
he’d be surprised, considering what he knew of the wolf. They weren’t exactly
friends, but Dash had seen him at enough state occasions to know he was quiet,
subservient, and submissive. Witches tended to be the opposite, full of their
own power and cleverness. Even the nice ones, like his aunts.

The trail led around the
side of the greenhouse, and into the formal garden. Here, box hedges surrounded
an expanse of lawn, dotted with trees. This was the part of the ranch that he
had never really felt like he owned: it had always been the domain of his
mother and her sisters.

And at the far end of it,
on the ground, lay a huddled shape. Dash stopped following the scent and broke
into a run. As he got close, he confirmed what he’d suspected. Michael.

The man’s face was bloody
and blackened, and beside him on the ground sat a shovel, covered in his blood
and scent. Dash sniffed at Michael. He still breathed. Dash sat up on his
haunches and howled for help.

Once he’d raised the alarm,
he changed into human form, and squatted down beside Michael. He checked his
pulse. Strong. Breathing. Regular. When he pried Michael’s eyelids apart, the
pupil contracted rapidly. He was out cold, not dead.

Gaelan appeared at the
other end of the lawn, several of the guards with him.

“Over here!” Dash yelled,
dropped back into the familiarity of his wolf body, and put his nose down. He
needed to get as much scent as he could before the pack muddied it.

Damn it, everything was
soaked in magic. This whole end of the garden positively stank of it. He could
barely even make out Michael’s scent.

Screwing up his muzzle in
disgust, he lowered his nose toward the shovel. Magic, same as everything else,
like a blanket, ruining his ability to track. It was fresh and strong here.

Gaelan approached, and
they made silent eye contact. The big man nodded, and Dash headed to the edge
of the gardens. His buddy would look out for Michael.

The magic lay like a fog
over the whole area, covering the lawn, the trees, and the hedges. He followed
the scent fog to its edge toward the side of the garden, where it abruptly
ended. He repeated his investigations along the perimeter of the lawn area. Everywhere
he found the same thing—a blanket of stinking magic surrounded by normality.
No other trails entered or left the garden, except his own, Dash’s, and the new
arrivals.

He sat and shifted,
feeling lightheaded, the drag of exhaustion pulling at both his forms. Changing
might be easier for him than most, but many changes in a short period of time
drained him. He needed to rest, and to eat something. Meat, preferably. But
first, he had to clean up this Gods-damned mess.

“I can’t track whoever did
this,” he said as he approached Gaelan. He nodded toward Michael’s body, still
on the ground but with two wolves crouched over him. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s coming around,”
reported one of the wolves. “Come on, buddy, you can do it.”

“We should get him out of
here as soon as possible. There’s a whole bunch of residual magic, and I don’t
like it one bit.”

“Need a witch,” Gaelan
said. “To tell us more about the magic.” The blond shook his head. “I don’t
like it, either.”

Dash heard a step, and
turned to see his aunts entering the garden. “Speak of the devil. You’d think
they knew we were talking about witches.” Elaine and Marjie seemed to read his
mind half of the time. He was uncomfortably unsure about whether they actually
could, or whether they merely had good instincts. He sure hoped they hadn’t
read his mind about Annie in the last couple of days, or they would have gotten
a whole bunch more than they bargained for.

Michael sat up, holding
his head in both hands, and groaned. His eyes were unfocused.

“Bring him up to my suite,”
Dash ordered. “I want to talk to him before anyone else does.”

While the guards complied,
he strode over to his aunts. “This place is lousy with magic. I want to know
who, and what, and why. Everything you can tell me. Did you visit the
greenhouse already?”

Marjie nodded. “A terrible
way to die. Her spirit had already departed, so we could not learn anything
from her directly.”

Elaine sighed. Her skin
was pale. “Rosa and I were good friends, once. I hate to think of her ending
like this. We will learn what we can about her killer and their magic.”

“Thanks,” Dash said. “I
need to go check on Annie and Jack and talk to Michael. Let me know what you
find out.”

He headed inside. Now,
he’d find out what Michael knew.

*
         
*
         
*

Annie paced to the window
again, and flicked the curtain aside. She couldn’t see the greenhouses from here,
but she could see the path they’d taken to get there, earlier. No sign of Dash.

She glanced over her
shoulder to where Jack and Daisy played with a giant pile of colorful blocks
Elaine had supplied. They were vintage originals, she’d explained, and had
belonged to Dash as a boy. The attic was full of his old toys, and she’d
brought down a selection for Jack.

Guards stood either side
of the entrance door. She knew there were more outside, but the fact that the
guards were inside the room now made her keenly aware of the danger level
ratcheting up.

Who killed the Oracle? She
shook her head, sure she’d never be able to dispel the image of the old woman’s
bloody throat from her memory. Perhaps more importantly, why had she been
killed? Annie couldn’t help the deep suspicion the Oracle had been killed to
stop her from telling Annie anything useful about Jack and the curse.

She set her teeth
together, lifted her shoulders, determined not to give in to despair. She’d
come this far.

The guards reacted as one
to something she did not hear. One crouched down, ready to pounce, and the
second drew a very large handgun from inside his jacket. She hadn’t even
noticed he was carrying.

The door opened, and Dash
stepped in. The guards stood down as silently and efficiently as they had
achieved combat readiness. Their well-oiled movements told Annie they’d trained
for this. She didn’t know if that was comforting or alarming.