Twiceborn (11 page)

“Could be nothing. A cat, maybe.” The shape I’d seen had been much bigger than a cat. “Just get—”

The front door burst open and slammed back against the wall with a crash that shook the floor beneath my feet. I screamed and whirled to face the noise. Ben dived for the bedside drawer where he’d left his gun.

Too late. In two seconds our visitors had crossed the main room and stood in the bedroom doorway.

“I wouldn’t reach for that gun if I were you, Mr Stevens,” a woman said. Someone flicked on the light. I blinked at the sudden brightness, still frozen to the spot. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

A woman stood there, wearing a black dress more suited to a cocktail party than breaking and entering. Her dark hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, her makeup flawless. Good God. Who wore makeup to break into someone’s house at three o’clock in the morning? And all that jewellery? Her bare arms were weighed down with gold bracelets.

Then a large grey wolf pushed past her into the room and I completely lost interest in her.

The wolf bared its teeth, a blood-curdling growl rumbling in its chest. And not a knife block in sight. Ben stepped in front of me, facing the monster with apparent calm.

“What do you think you’re doing, Nada?” He spoke to the woman as if the wolf wasn’t even there. He
knew
her? I looked at her more closely. Was it my imagination or was there a faint blue glow around her?

“The queen’s justice,” she replied without inflection, inspecting her nails in a show of boredom. Nice touch. Pity the smirk she couldn’t quite keep from her face spoiled the effect.

A guy with a gun joined her. Quite a crowd for the small bedroom. He gestured the wolf back. I kept my eyes on the wolf; I figured a gun could only kill me.

Ben laughed. “What do
you
know about justice? You’re nothing more than a gun for hire. We’re heralds, under the queen’s protection.”

Nada’s eyes narrowed. Easy there, Ben. Making her mad didn’t seem like a great game plan. There was obviously some history between these two. I swallowed, trying to look as calm as Ben, but the wolf could probably smell my fear.

“And
you’re
nothing but glorified couriers,” she sneered. “Micah, get their charms.”

The guy with the gun gestured me out of the way and took my necklace with the little Robin Hood guy from the bedside table. He was so close I could smell the garlic on his breath. I could have knocked him down—or through the window. Instead I backed up against the wall and let him squeeze past. Having a werewolf in the room certainly dampened my enthusiasm for heroics. Ben still wore his necklace. Wordlessly the gunman held out his free hand until Ben handed it over.

“Does Valeria know you’re here?” Ben sounded remarkably cool for a man with a gun in his face. Maybe he was used to it. I was coming to realise there was a lot I didn’t know about him. “She’s a fool if she thinks the queen won’t punish both of you for this. Elizabeth doesn’t like having her peace broken.”

“Her Majesty doesn’t like having her daughters killed by the meat either,” she snapped. I didn’t like the way she looked at me as she said it.

“We had nothing to do with Leandra’s death.”

I wished I could be so sure.

“Really. Word on the street says otherwise.” Her gaze flicked over me briefly. “Come and tell Valeria all about it; I’m sure she’ll be fascinated.”

“Why should Valeria care who killed Leandra, as long as she’s dead? She would have done it herself if she could. And we don’t answer to Valeria.”

Nada laughed. “Maybe not this week, little man. But how long do you think it will be before Valeria’s queen? Is it wise to disobey your future sovereign?”

She waved one languid hand at the werewolf, who trotted obediently from the room. Her perfect manicure suggested she usually gave the orders and left the actual work to others.

“Bring everything,” she said to the one called Micah. “I don’t want any sign left that they’ve been here. Tell the other two to follow in the herald’s car.”

Micah nodded and pulled a cable tie from his pocket, which he used to cuff my hands firmly in front of me. Remarkably dexterous for a man still holding a gun. Must have had a lot of practice. Then he did the same for Ben, who glared at him.

“You cross this line, you can never go back.”

“Shut up,” Micah growled, shoving Ben toward the door.

Nada strode out. Another gunman waited in the main room, and he and Micah hustled us after her, one gun on each of us. There was no sign of the wolf.

A black four-wheel drive sat in the driveway behind Ben’s car, motor already running, headlights off. The only light came from the moon and what little spilled from the open front door. No chance of anyone seeing us and calling the police; every house on the street stood dark and quiet. Micah forced us into the back seat with the other gunman, then went around to the driver’s side. Two others brought my bag and Ben’s first aid kit out and got into Ben’s car. Maybe one of them was the werewolf? It was impossible to tell now.

Nada spoke to them then got in beside Micah. I glared at the back of her sleek head all the way to the motorway.

CHAPTER NINE

I woke to find Jason leaning over our bed, fully dressed.

“What are you doing?” According to my brand-new alarm clock, we didn’t have to get up for another half-hour. It was still dark, but light from the hallway illuminated the mantelpiece where the clock sat, its ticking loud in the quiet house.

“Luce is worried.”

“So?” I stretched like a cat, enjoying the slide of satin sheets against my skin. His eyes lingered on my curves. “Luce is always worried. That’s her job.”

“One of the boys coming in this morning saw Nada down in the village,” Luce said from the doorway.

“Nada?” I frowned at my security chief. Dressed in jeans and boots, her dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, she stared back with her usual impassivity. You could never tell what Luce was thinking—unless she wanted you to know. “Nada Kusic?”

Valeria’s second was a griffin with a mean streak a mile wide—perfect for Valeria, in fact—and a burning desire to prove herself as good as a dragon. Not a person to be taken lightly, despite her laughable ambitions. She’d killed my sister Monique at the Presentation ball and come close to taking me out at the same time.

Luce nodded. “So he said. With a couple of thralls.”

“What’s she hanging around for?”

Jason shrugged and grinned at Luce. “That’s what Luce wants to know. I said I’d go with her.”

I pouted. “Send Garth instead and come back to bed. It’s still practically my birthday.”

He laughed and kissed the tip of my nose. “It was your birthday yesterday, and I already gave you a present.” My new alarm clock, modelled on a clock owned by Marie Antoinette, gold-plated and studded with diamonds. It was a beautiful piece, and supposedly the alarm was something special. My favourite song? A recorded message from him, maybe? He wouldn’t say. “Stay in bed and wait for the surprise.”

“I hate surprises,” I grumbled. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

He wagged a finger at me. “That would spoil all the fun. Now go back to sleep. This shouldn’t take long.”

He strode out. Luce lingered in the doorway, her gaze roaming the room as if she expected to find an assailant lurking beneath the four-poster bed or hiding in the shadows of the walk-in wardrobe.

“I’ll take Dean and Charlie,” she said, “and leave you Garth and the others.”

“Really? Only ten men to keep me safe?” Luce took her job as head of security very seriously. “Are you sure that’s enough?”

“Maybe I should be worried about keeping them safe from you,” she muttered as she followed Jason out.

Fancy that—a joke from Luce. She mustn’t be feeling well.

“Are you coming, Luce?” Jason roared from downstairs as I snuggled down into the blankets. It was good to see him taking an interest again. He’d been jumpy and difficult lately. I suppose it was to be expected—his child had been dead mere weeks. Though it had only been half dragon Jason had taken its loss hard.

At least it meant he no longer had to see its mother. Not that I was jealous, of course. Dragons weren’t monogamous and I didn’t spend too many lonely nights. But Jason was one of my favourites.

I rolled over, trying to find sleep again, but the sheets were cool without Jason. Damn it! Thralls couldn’t lie, but the magic that enthralled them made them dull-witted. The thrall was probably mistaken, and Jason and Luce off on a wild goose chase.

If it was true, however … Nada’s being so close practically constituted a declaration of war. Valeria usually liked to work more subtly than that. Poor Monique had died without even knowing what had hit her: one minute waltzing, big puppy-dog eyes laughing up at her partner, the next smeared in little tiny pieces all over the ballroom. If not for Luce’s quick mind, I would have been right behind her.

Why would Nada risk coming this far into my territory? Was it some scheme of Valeria’s, or was she working on her own?

Thoroughly awake now, I gave up on the idea of more sleep. My beautiful clock, standing proud on the mantelpiece, said I had five minutes before the alarm went off. Enough time to duck downstairs for coffee. I could start my day with coffee in bed, listening to my birthday surprise. Maybe I’d get one of the thralls to get the fire going in the hearth, too. Naked flame was so much more satisfying than air-conditioning.

Sunrise was peeking through the big kitchen windows as I entered, the clear pink sky promising another fine day. Moving out here had been a good decision. Apart from the stables and the garage, I could see nothing but fields and trees. The property was so big, and the neighbours so far away, I had room to breathe. Security was easier too than in the city.

Three of the thralls were gathered round the coffee machine with Garth, gossiping like old grandmothers. The word must have spread about Nada. They fell silent when I came in, except for Garth, who offered me coffee. The thralls were just interchangeable bodies. They watched my every move with single-minded devotion, but I didn’t take enough notice of them to be able to tell one from the other. Garth, on the other hand, was a wolf, an outcast from Trevor’s pack. There’d been some trouble over a woman, as there so often was with wolves. Passionate creatures, but not always the brightest. Still, it worked out well for me. I gained a follower so grateful to find a place that his loyalty was as fierce as if I’d enthralled him—but with the bonus that he could still think for himself, unlike the thralls. He was Luce’s right-hand man these days.

He made a mean coffee, too. Though the rest of them were drinking out of mugs, he got out the fine china for me. A thoughtful touch.

“Sugar? Milk?”

“Just make it strong.” Like my men.

He nodded and passed the coffee across, his big hands careful with the delicate china. I eyed him as he checked his watch and sent the thralls off to their duty. He could have been mistaken for a soldier, with his short greying buzz cut and well-muscled body. He was taller than me, and powerfully built, with a fine pair of shoulders. I did like a man with strong shoulders. It might be worth getting to know him better.

He leaned back against the gleaming steel of the kitchen bench, arms folded. The fingers of one hand drummed an impatient rhythm on an impressive bicep. When he checked his watch again I laughed.

“Stop fretting, Garth.”

“They’ve been gone nearly half an hour. What’s keeping them?”

“Don’t worry so much. That’s what I pay Luce for. They can take care of themselves.”

Luce was the most competent person I knew, and Jason was old and cunning, a lethal combination in a dragon. Still, it took me a few moments to settle Garth, and time was ticking away. I hurried back upstairs, spilling hot coffee into the saucer, hoping I hadn’t missed the alarm.

I realised I had when, halfway up, an explosion rocked the house and my bedroom door blew into the hallway.

I hurled the cup and saucer aside and took the stairs two at a time. Garth and two thralls pelted up the stairs after me. Debris lay scattered across the upper steps. I coughed, waving a hand in a vain attempt to clear the clouds of dust billowing from my room. Rubble had blasted from the door in a wide semicircle. Beneath my bare feet the carpet felt gritty with pieces of brick and plasterboard.

Garth held me back with one arm. “Get away. There might be another bomb.”

That would be clever, wouldn’t it? One explosion to draw a crowd, another to finish them off. But I didn’t think that was the intent here. One bomb, one victim.

I stood in the doorway and surveyed the gaping hole in the side of the building that used to be my bedroom. There wasn’t much left. The four-poster bed had been obliterated. The chairs, the dressing table, the window with its heavy brocade drapes—all gone. No sign remained of the mantelpiece or the beautiful clock which had stood there—in fact, the fireplace no longer needed a chimney, as half the roof had blown off. Early morning light streamed through the hole and lit the swirling dust and smoke, incongruously cheerful. A few scraps of carpet clung to the scorched floor by the door. I stared at the place where the bed had been. Where I should have been lying, waiting for my birthday surprise.

I was surprised, all right—surprised how much it hurt.

Garth, with singular presence of mind, already had his phone out. “Luce isn’t answering,” he said after a moment. “Or Jason either.”

“No, I imagine not.” I felt listless but stirred myself to instruct the thralls to stamp out the fires starting in the wreckage and secure the building. Garth gave orders too, sending others out to check the grounds and one to review the security tapes.