Текст книги "Mate"

Автор книги: Ali Hazelwood

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The agent blinks. I can almost hear his skin break into goose bumps.

“Women? They belong in the kitchen. I don’t, though.” I can’t see Koen’s face, but the smile in his voice is bloodcurdling. “I get around. Would you like to apologize to the lady, or would you like to learn what that means?”

The man’s scent is pure terror, mixed with a drop of shame. He started shit but doesn’t want to lose face in front of his colleagues. “Is this a threat?”

“If you have to ask, I must be doing something wrong.” Koen shifts me and hooks me at his side. The agent’s friend– older and clearly wiser– takes about five steps back and reaches for his weapon.

So does every other person in the lobby.

Koen ignores them all. “You have two options, shitmuncher. You can apologize to the lady this very instant, or you can wait till later to be fucked up. Your choice. And don’t worry, I won’t be disappointed either way.”

“I’m not afraid of your animals. Send them after me, and see what– ”

“Whoa. Highly offensive. Whatever have I done to make you think that I wouldn’t kill you myself?”

Something in Koen’s tone must alert the man that this is no joke. His throat bobs. His cheek tics. After a few seconds of angry deliberation, he hisses at me, “I’m sorry.”

My shoulders slump in relief.

“Not that hard, was it?” Koen beams. He holds out his hand, grasping the other man’s in a friendly, peacekeeping shake that lasts less than a second. “Careful, buddy. Looks like you hurt yourself.”

The man lifts his arm, puzzled to find thick red blood streaming down his pale flesh, past his wrists and into the sleeve of his suit. He seems to be unable to grasp what just happened, and I don’t blame him, because neither can I– at least, until I notice the two vertical cuts slicing his wrist. They are claw shaped. Deep. And they run parallel to the long vein in his inner arm.

In fact, they barely missed it.

“If you make any more comments about this girl over here and I find out,” Koen says, too low for anyone but the three of us to hear, “it’ll be your throat.”

I shiver. The man breathes hard, clutching his wrist to his chest.

“Show me you understood.”

He nods quickly.

“Very good. C’mon, Serena.” Koen’s arm wraps around my shoulder. “I need you to make me a sandwich.”

I let him lead me to the door, feeling as though I’m moving through water. “Koen?”

“Hmm?”

“What just happened?”

“You gave an interview that stuck a bull’s– eye on your back, despite my repeatedly stated and very valid objections.”

“No, I meant– ” Stepping outside is like walking into a wall made of screams. Unsurprisingly, my presence here has attracted a crowd big enough that the network busted out the VIP barriers.

“– abomination– ”

“– never forget what the Weres did to my people– ”

“– liar, you’re a liar– ”

“– blessed with the power of blood and the blood of power, the flesh will be reborn and take new shapes– ”

The last one is my personal favorite. Koen’s, too, judging from how his pupils turn into slits.

But there are half a dozen We love you, Serena, you’re so brave, you’re still one of us signs, and I smile at their owners as Koen pushes me forward and opens the passenger door of the car for me.

He grabs the edge of the roof to protect my head. When I slip onto the seat, he leans against the door and says into my ear, “You did good in there, killer.”

The shrieks, the interview, the man bleeding in the lobby– it all becomes background noise.

I look up at him. Don’t bother hiding my smile. “High praise.”

“Didn’t say you did great,” he mutters, closing the door after me.

We do have sandwiches for dinner, but Koen’s the one who ends up making them, with a little help from Ana.

CHAPTER 5

His seconds like her, they have from the very start.

Traitors.

Present day

IWAKE UP FLOATING SEVERAL FEET ABOVE THE GROUND– AND promptly decide to go back to sleep.

This is nice. I am, for once, not cold. My bed smells pleasant and woodsy, not at all like rancid nightmare sweat. The pillow is the perfect consistency. Everything about the situation is cozy and restful, and I see no reason to interrupt it– until a worried voice pierces through my cocoon of joy.

“Please, tell me that she’s sleeping and not unconscious.”

My eyes flutter open, and two realizations hit me: the person speaking is Amanda, Koen’s closest second.

And I’m very much not in bed.

Koen is carrying me inside a cabin that doesn’t look too different from the one in which I’d spent the last weeks, one arm hooked under my bent knees, the other cradling me to his chest. My head nestles in the side of his throat, where the scratch of his beard tickles my cheek. The events of last night wash over me in rolling waves.

Look at me, living to see another day.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Almost dawn.”

We must be a few hours away from my cabin, then. “Are we in the Southwest?” That’s where he’s going to take me, right? Back to Misery and Lowe.

“Still Northwest. We stopped at one of our safe houses.”

Lazily, I paw at Koen’s shoulder and stretch in his arms. “I can walk.”

“Me too. Wanna start a club?”

“Can I be president?”

“Treasurer at most.”

“No deal.” I yawn into the spot at the base of his neck, which causes his grip to falter first and then tighten. “Seriously, you can let go of me.”

He does, but only because we’ve reached our destination. He deposits me on a worn-out but clean sectional and then proceeds to look down at me with a frown.

“You okay?” he asks, gruff. “Anything feel . . . loose inside?”

“Loose? Like what?”

“I don’t fucking know. An artery?”

I decide to ignore the question, and ask, “Do you know what a man bun is?”

“A what?”

“Hmm. Must not have made it to the Weres. I was just wondering whether the lumbersexual vibes were on purpose?”

He scowls. Leans down. Cups my nape with one hand, while the fingers of the other slide through my hair, now matted with sweat, mud, and Bob’s blood. His grip is gentle. Soothing.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeling for a bump.”

“Why?”

“Might explain the sudden onset of aphasia.”

I snort out a laugh. “Come on, Koen. Tell me you at least yell ‘timber’ every once in a while.”

The only thing he’s ready to tell me is that he’ll have me institutionalized. It’s for the best, then, that Amanda sinks down next to me and wraps me in a hug.

“Look at you. Not even a little bit dead.” She grins. By the time she pulls away, Koen is gone. “Despite your high-stakes, violent existence.”

I snort again, looking at her round face, flawless dark skin, full lips. She’s around Koen’s age, even though she could pass for a high schooler. That’s where the similarities end: she’s kind and humorous, and I don’t believe I’ve ever heard her call someone a “rotten cockwomble.”

“I missed you,” she tells me. She and I met only recently, but we got close very quickly. Koen wouldn’t allow me to move into the cabin without periodic supervision and tasked her with coming to check on me once a week or so. I don’t really consider myself in the market for new friendships, not at this stage of my . . . life, let’s call it, but there are only so many games of I Spy one can play (seventeen, to be precise) before starting to miss meaningful conversation. By the second visit, we were dumping on each other like coal trimmers on the Titanic. Pretty cathartic– if mostly abridged and highly redacted on my part. “You don’t look too well.”

I smile. “Yeah. So I hear.”

“Sorry some asshole Vampyre interfered with your search for, uh, inner peace.”

I am profoundly embarrassed that my cover story for needing to stay at the cabin required me to utter words like harmony and serenity with a straight face. Sometimes, you just do what you have to. “It’s okay. It’s been very . . . restorative,” I lie bald-facedly. Weres can usually pick up fibs, but they struggle to make sense of me. Being a hybrid has its pros. Well . . . pro. Singular.

“Thank God Koen was in your area to meet with huddle leaders.” Amanda takes my hand. “I was shitting myself when Lowe told us about the Vampyre tracking you.”

“I was not,” Jorma says, stepping inside the room. He’s another of Koen’s seconds– a stern, statuesque man with white-blond curls and icy-blue eyes. Jorma loves rules, unnecessary clerical work, waiting in line, and– hazarding a guess, here– bland foods covered in protein powder. His childhood dream was probably to become a hall monitor. I’ve seen him smile only once, and it was a terrifying process, like he’d learned how to move his facial muscles from a book. I hope it never happens again. “Serena has bested several Vampyres in a fight before.” He nods at me in approval. “No reason to worry about her.”

I should be grateful for what’s obviously as close to a compliment as Jorma gets, but his misplaced faith just makes me want to shrink into the couch. “Yeah. Thanks,” I croak.

The last second in the cabin is Saul– who, unlike Jorma, has never filled out a form in his life, communicates mostly through grins and winks, and is the biggest, loudest flirt I’ve ever met. “Honey,” he says instead of Hello. He takes me in with a pained expression. “The hoodie-chic, blood-spattered, final-girl outfit suits you. The hair, not so much.”

I pout. “But my stylist said it was so me.”

“You deserve a refund.” He bends to kiss my cheek. “You look rough. Need a hug? Chamomile tea? A coloring book with some pencils? All of the above?”

Every time Saul comes up in conversation, someone feels the need to mention how incredibly handsome he is, but I don’t see it. Maybe it’s because I know that he’s Amanda’s ex. Maybe he just doesn’t do it for me. I guess I’m more into . . .

“She’s fine,” Koen orders, returning to the room with something in his hand. “Stop fussing.”

It’s an odd thing to say, considering that it’s followed by him kneeling in front of me and taking the heel of one of my feet in his palm. He runs a damp washcloth all over the little abrasions the forest floor left on my skin, the ones that are already starting to heal. The warmth feels so indecently good, I swallow a moan.

“You’re fine. Aren’t you, killer?” he asks, holding my eyes.

I nod, a little breathless.

“You need a bed and some rest,” Saul continues, undeterred.

“And a hot meal,” Amanda adds. “Should I– ”

“She’s an adult Were who doesn’t require coddling,” Koen interrupts. Once again, a bit jarring to hear, especially as he rolls thick, soft socks up my shins. They reach just below my knees. I might just go to my deathbed wearing them.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t worry about her,” Amanda points out.

“Last week Colin came back from a sweep with his arm nearly hanging off, and you all laughed in his face.”

“As is appropriate when one loses a fight against a bear,” Jorma says, straight-faced.

Saul seems to agree. “I’d forgotten that you’d declared it against the law to be excellent to each other, Koen.”

“Make sure you write it down, then.”

“Once again, if we had an HR department, they would be so busy dealing with . . .” Saul’s phone pings. He trails off to read a message, and when he looks up, he’s all business. “Alpha, Lowe is ready to talk.”

Koen nods. I expect him to walk out to take the call, but Amanda fiddles with a cable, and a moment later a flat screen I hadn’t noticed slowly whirs to life.

Several people appear, all of them known to me from my time in the Southwest. There’s Lowe, of course. The redheaded second whose name has clearly rotted out of my mind. Alex, the IT guy who taught me how to play Grand Theft Auto. And . . .

“Look who ran out of toilet paper and decided to rejoin civilization,” Misery says with a wide smile. Her pale elfin face is as close as I’ll ever get to having a home. I guess it’s fitting, then, how foreign she looks of late.

She stopped bothering with contacts or filing her canines, which fills me with joy. For the first time in her life, she’s happy, protected, and invested in the world around her. Are you jealous of her relationship with Lowe? Amanda once asked me, and I get why she’d think that. Growing up, it used to be Misery and me– just the two of us, hand in hand against the world. Now it’s Misery and Lowe and the cute child she’s somehow step-mommying despite having no business being left alone with someone whose fontanelles have barely closed. And yes, me too. Somewhere out yonder. In the periphery.

But I told Amanda that I wasn’t, and it’s the truth. I don’t think I’m capable of jealousy. It’s a feeling that requires the assumption that something is due, and I never developed that. Years in an orphanage, then more years as the Collateral’s baby doll, will beat the possessiveness out of anyone.

Still, change requires adjustment– and secrets require distance. When I realized that I needed to step away, I mixed truth and lies, said I was overstimulated, and asked for an isolated place to acclimatize to my Were senses. Misery and Lowe didn’t love the idea of me leaving the Southwest, but they believed the tale I spun.

Want to know who didn’t believe it? Koen. Why some guy I’d met two months earlier was better than my lifelong friend at reading through my bullshit is something I have no intention of pondering.

“Just kidding about the toilet paper,” Misery adds. “I know you people just shift into wolves and lick your own butts.”

Next to her, Lowe winces but pulls her closer. If things go to shit tomorrow, today, in five minutes, at least I can be reassured that the person I care about the most is in excellent hands. I’m genuinely happy for her.

Though maybe a little less when she tells me, “Serena, you look like shit.”

“Seriously?” I scowl. “Is no one interested in sparing my feelings?”

Misery’s and Koen’s “nope” are perfectly in unison. He takes a seat next to me, close enough for our thighs to touch, legs stretched out on the coffee table and calves crossed. The picture of relaxed boredom. “So,” he starts, “what the fuck just happened, and who do I kill?”

I refrain from pointing out the obvious: Bob the Vampyre and You already have.

Lowe sighs. “We are producing a list.”

“Nice.” Koen sounds ready to roll up his sleeves. “I’ll take the first ten names.”

“What happened up at the cabin?” Lowe asks.

“Yeah, Serena,” Misery adds. “How hard did you maul the guy who tried to come for you?”

I freeze, loath to admit how much of a wimp I am.

“He won’t be bothering her anymore,” Koen says flatly. “She made sure of it.” Definitely not the whole truth, but Misery equivocates and gives me a proud, fangy smile.

“Actually,” I start guiltily, “if Koen hadn’t been there– ”

I stop, because suddenly the screen is fully taken up by a pair of piercing light green eyes. They blink at me as a small, sleepy voice asks, “Serena, did they tell you I lost two tooths?” The angle shifts, and a small tongue wiggles in and out of a wide front gap. For way longer than is needed for a demonstration.

Ana. My heart nearly bursts with love for her. For some reason, my hands start trembling. “Nope.” I try to firm up my voice. “They rudely kept it from me.”

“I thought so.” She pulls back, just enough for me to see her give the adults behind her a disappointed look. “Someone will bring me money. A fairy. A creepy fairy made of tooths.”

“We’ve been over this, pest. The fairy takes the teeth, but she’s not made of . . .” Misery waves her hand. “You know what? Sure. The damn fairy is made of enamel and pulp.”

“Ana, it’s too early for you to be up,” Lowe says, failing to sound stern. “Remember that you promised that after saying hi to Serena, you’d go back to bed?”

“Okay. Bye, Serena,” she says cheerfully, stopping to kiss her brother on the cheek and to blow a raspberry on a resigned Misery’s arm.

I watch her disappear, trying not to think about the fact that there are people out there who would be willing and capable of hurting her, until Koen says, “I thought the Vampyre council had agreed to stop fucking with Weres.”

“It’s a complicated situation,” Lowe acknowledges. “As you know, Owen, Misery’s brother, has been trying to consolidate control over the Vampyre council and convince them to agree to a trilateral peace treaty with the Weres and the Humans.”

“With mixed results, given the frequent mentions of his suddenly receding hairline,” Misery informs us. It’s unclear whom the recap is for. Probably me, the one voted most likely to forsake an internet connection and melt into the underbrush.

“After Serena’s interview,” Lowe continues, “Human public opinion has become highly favorable toward Weres. Disclosing the genetic compatibility was a gamble, and it paid off. The alliance Maddie and I have formed is stronger than ever. Peaceful coexistence, demilitarized areas, softer borders– none of this would have been possible even six months ago.”

“And the Vampyres are feeling left out?” Saul asks.

“The Vampyres have been invited to the playdate,” Misery says. “But for interspecies alliances the council needs a supermajority, and some members think it’s all a trick to weaken their position in the Southwest area.”

Koen snorts. “These crusty Vampyres really believe other species think about them that much, huh?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Misery points out. They share a look, brief but full of contempt. Shocking, how well they get along. “Basically,” Misery continues, “someone on the council wants to blow up the alliance between the Weres and the Humans, and they put a bounty on Serena’s head, and now any Vampyre in want of a fortune is after her.”

“How did they track her down?” Koen asks. “Only Amanda and I knew her location.”

“That is my . . . well, I don’t know that one would say fault, per se, but . . .” Alex timidly clears his throat, wringing his hands. I suspect he finds regular Koen terrifying– and angry Koen bloodcurdling. “When I gave Serena the satellite phone, I, um, recorded it with her initials to keep, uh, track of it,” he finishes in a hush.

“How thorough of you. Why not add a couple recent pictures, just to give the kidnappers a visual aid?”

“Actually.” Alex swallows. “There may have been one.”

Never mind Alex, I am scared of Koen. I slide my hand on his leg, feeling the warm flesh of his thigh through his jeans. His muscles clench tight, then abruptly relax.

“Do we know which councilmembers set the bounty?” I ask.

Misery shakes her head. “Owen has a network of informants and thinks that Councilwoman Selamio or Councilman Ross might be behind this. Others might be involved, too. In a way, it’s not a bad thing. If they are caught participating in something that might start an interspecies war, they’ll be instantly killed, and their seats will pass to their heirs. Selamio Jr. and Baby Ross are assholes, but they’re not stupid. They know that entering the trilateral alliance would be for the best.”

“So . . . why are their parents still alive?” Koen asks. His leadership philosophy seems to be if inconvenient, why not dead?

“They’ve been covering their tracks,” Lowe admits reluctantly. “Without proof, Owen can’t make accusations.”

Koen grunts, unhappy with the concept of due process. “What do they even want with Serena?”

“To prove she’s an imposter. To use her DNA to dilute the symbolic power of a Were-Human hybrid by creating Were-Vampyre or Vampyre-Human hybrids. Who knows?” Misery massages her forehead, like the sheer idiocy is giving her a headache. “But they’re willing to part with a lot of money to have Serena delivered to them, alive, and . . .” She presses her lips together. Stares at me with those unblinking lilac eyes. “Serena, did you just shrug?”

“What? No.”

“She did,” the redhead mutters.

“I saw her too,” Jorma says.

“Yup.” Saul.

“Could it have been a shiver?” Amanda asks.

“I . . . Maybe I shrugged.” I glare around the room, defensive. “Is it, like, against pack rules?”

“It’s just, you know.” Misery gestures vaguely. “A weird reaction to have when someone tells you that there are hordes of financially strapped assassins after you.”

“For one, they’re not assassins. They want me alive so they can scrape DNA off the inside of my cheek and use it to grow baby werebananas. And honestly . . .” I shrug again. Consciously, this time. “I knew my name was in a bunch of little black books. Now it’s in more, bigger black books, but I’ve maxed out my levels of distress.” Perspective is a hell of a drug. “It’s fine, really,” I tell several increasingly understanding pairs of eyes, proud of the way I seem to have convinced everyone– and then I meet Koen’s gaze.

Who, clearly, has never encountered a lie of mine he couldn’t shuck like sweet corn.

“I am concerned for Ana, though,” I hasten to add, tearing my eyes away. “She’s already a bunch of stressors stacked in a trench coat. There are only that many kidnapping and murder attempts a child can endure before developing serious issues and self-destructive behaviors. We wouldn’t want her to grow up and, say, go to grad school.”

“Don’t worry,” Misery reassures me, “every day I drill into her that we’ll be disappointed in anything but a DJing career.”

“You’re such a good role model.”

“I know. Right, Lowe?”

Lowe just looks exhausted, like he did every day of the weeks I spent at his house. In his defense, we are a lot.

“How did the Vampyres even learn about Ana?” I ask. “I thought her hybrid status was strictly on a need– to– know basis?”

“It is. So far, only high-ranking Northwest and Southwest members and her physician know. And the Vampyres, they’re not sure,” Misery says. “But they’re hoping. Put yourself in their shoes: someone’s offering a shit ton of money in exchange for a hybrid. You’re a sure bet but hard to track and known for having disposed of multiple Vampyres. Ana’s a child. Much easier to take.”

“Serena,” Lowe interjects, “the most important thing right now is to make sure that you and Ana are safe and off the radar. We’re going to get you back to the Southwest by tomorrow, and– ”

“But that’s a terrible idea.”

Once again, everyone turns to me. Except for Koen, who keeps looking ahead as though . . . I can’t shake the impression that he knows what I’m about to say.

“Excuse me?” Lowe says.

“They’re going to come back for me.”

“They’re not going anywhere near you,” Koen mutters, arrogant and a little too certain. No one else can hear it, but my cheeks feel hot anyway.

“With a financial incentive that high, they’re not going to give up.”

“That’s the point.” Misery looks at me like she suspects that my brain fell off into a septic tank. “They’re not going to stop, and so we need to hide you away– ”

“No. You need to hide Ana away.”

She frowns. “Ana, yes. And you– ”

“And I’m going to be hidden so poorly, it’ll take them no effort to find me. I’m going to be in plain sight. I’m going to be such an easy target, it won’t ever occur to them to expend resources to locate another hybrid.” I smile. “And when they come for me, we’ll use them to figure out who’s behind the bounty.”