Текст книги "Savage Awakening"

Автор книги: J. Tyler

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“Then I guess I have no other choicebut to stay,” he said bitterly.

“There’s always a choice.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” Green eyes pinned Nick, begging for the truth.

The vision that had been threatening finally exploded in Nick’s brain. His head fell back as the office vanished and he found himself racked with pain, kneeling in the middle of a field as cold rain lashed down like needles and lightning split the sky, then zipped down to scorch the ground.

All around him, his men battled unearthly creatures from hell and beyond. Losing ground with every passing minute. Facing their doom.

And on a high pinnacle stood the Sorcerer with his staff, soaking wet. Screaming to the heavens for help that would not come.

A detonation shook the ground and all was lost in a maelstrom of wind and rain. Of blood and tears. The world fell away.

“Nick!”

Dead. Was he dead?

“Nicky!”

Nick’s eyes snapped open and he gasped, sucking air into his lungs. Kalen was crouched on the floor in front of him, shaking his shoulders, face panicked. “I’m okay,” he croaked.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” No.

“Jesus,” Kalen breathed. Standing, he took a step back. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry, kid.” He took a few steadying breaths.

“Nick, am I going to die?” he asked softly.

Oh, God. Don’t you understand I wouldn’t tell you even if I could?“We all die sometime. But I know what you mean, and I honestly can’t tell you because I didn’t see that.”

Technically, it was true.

“Am I going to hurt any of my friends? Innocents?”

“I don’t know.”

Seconds passed in heavy silence.

“All right.” Kalen sighed. “I’ll stay.”

“Good. Keep me posted on any developments with the creature. In the meantime, be ready to roll. I have a feeling that lead on where Aric and Micah are being held just may pan out, and soon.”

“Will do.”

With that, the Sorcerer walked out and left Nick alone.

So alone. As he’d been for the past two and a half centuries.

Three

The fierce arguing reached Aric’s ears long before the combatants came into view. A woman’s and a man’s voices. No, two or three men. Beryl and who else? He couldn’t make out their angry words over the roaring in his ears and the pounding in his head, and decided it didn’t matter, anyway. There wasn’t much left of him but a slab of meat hanging in chains, and the wicked stepsister would carve up the rest soon enough.

Was there anyone on the planet who gave a damn what happened to him?

He wasn’t a guy normally given to loads of introspection, but there was nothing to do in this hellhole but think. The longer he remained their special guest, the more the twin demons of doubt and fear eroded his confidence, unraveled the threads holding together his sanity.

But maybe losing his mind wouldn’t be a bad deal.

As footsteps neared him, he lifted his chin slightly to peer at the group through the fall of his long, dirty red hair. He wished he hadn’t, because even more than Beryl, the sight of three men, two in lab coats and one meathead that was obviously the hired muscle, chilled his soul the way nothing else could have.

Except for their heated conversation.

“. . . better be glad I’m not making a phone call,” one of the men said coldly. He was average in height and looks, brown hair. Outside of this place, nobody would give him a second glance.

“Do it, Bowman,” Beryl retorted with a self-satisfied smirk. “And see who he blames. You’re the employee, not me. You’ll face his wrath for letting a test subject get away.”

Dr. Gene Bowman of NewLife Technology. The former supervisor of Jaxon Law’s new mate, Kira Locke. Sweat rolled down Aric’s face.

Bowman remained unmoved. “If you honestly think spreading your legs for some demon is going to protect you from any fallout from what you’ve done, you’re sadly deluded. This project is much bigger and more significant than your petty games. What we’re on the verge of accomplishing is huge, and he’ll let nothing get in the way—especially not a slutty, mediocre witch who’s easily replaced in his bed.”

Aric missed Beryl’s pissed-off retort. His brain was too busy reeling at the overload of information. Demon?Was that a slur against Orson Chappell, or had Bowman meant “demon” in the literal sense? Anything was possible—including the idea that Chappell was notthe head of the snake, something Nick and the team had feared. Whoever the head slimeball might be, Beryl was sleeping with him.

Bowman turned to the muscleman and the other guy in the lab coat. “Get him down from there and take him to the lab for prep.”

Before that moment, he’d only thoughthe’d known fear.

The taller doctor and the meathead released his wrists, allowing him to drop. Arms dead from little circulation, limp as cooked noodles, he face-planted on the dirty concrete floor with his legs still attached to the wall, spread-eagle.

It was the single most degrading moment of his life.

Then the doc and the muscle guy hauled him up, easy as pie considering all the weight he’d lost, one taking him under the arms, one getting his ankles. Carried faceup, naked body on display and nobody caring, his carcass no better than a number to write down in their sordid files.

After an ascent in an elevator, he tried to keep track of the twists and turns they made, but he was simply too exhausted. Disheartened. Several minutes later, he found himself in a stark space that distinctly resembled an operating room.

It was then he noticed the drain in the tiled floor.

When they placed him on his back on a steel table, he began to struggle, attempted to call his fire or his wolf. Anything. But the “gifts” he usually cursed had deserted him when they counted most, and his rebellion was short-lived. A needle slid into the crook of his right arm and a cold burn seeped through the limb, stretched icy fingers across his chest. Suddenly he had trouble breathing, whether from the medication or sheer panic he didn’t know.

The freeze slowly crept across his stomach, to his groin and legs. With the cold was the realization that he couldn’t move at all—though his mind remained aware.

Bowman’s hated, innocuous face appeared over him, smiling faintly. “Console yourself with the thought that this is for the greater triumph of mankind. Now relax.” To the other doctor, he said, “Note that the experimentation on number five fifty-two has commenced.”

“Wh-what’re you doin’ to me?” he slurred. His tongue felt heavy as a wet blanket, his thoughts growing sluggish. He peered at a bright light overhead and it quadrupled, as did the faces above him.

No one answered his question. His legs were spread and fastened with restraints, and so were his wrists at his sides.

A scalpel appeared in Bowman’s hand as he continued to dictate the procedure and findings to someone Aric couldn’t see. “Subject is malnourished and dehydrated, with cuts and lesions in the late stages of infection over forty percent of his body. Taking samples of the subject’s DNA and semen to determine their viability to our cause.”

Semen? What the fuck?

“Percentage of probability of scheduling subject five fifty-two for termination?” a robotlike voice intoned.

“Will advise.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

Yeah? Fuck you very much, doc.

Focused on his task, Bowman answered with only a grunt as he lowered the scalpel to the center of Aric’s chest, just a millimeter south of his sternum. Aric’s instinct was to struggle, try to yank on his bonds, get his hands free and torch them all, but again, absolutely nothing happened. He could only watch as the small blade sliced gradually into his skin, parting the surface like hot butter. There was pressure but no pain, an odd and frightening thing when a maniac had total access to his body and he couldn’t do a damned thing to stop the asshole.

The pressure increased, the knife digging deeper. So deep he swore the doc was cutting straight to his heart. Maybe he was. Apparently satisfied with this cut, the doc removed the now-bloodied knife, laid it on a nearby tray and held out his hand for a new instrument. A large pair of what Aric thought of as oversized tweezers were slapped into Bowman’s palm and he pried apart the sliced flesh, inserting the points. A strange tugging sensation in his chest, now accompanied by some pain, took his breath away.

Bowman lifted the tweezers. Aric’s eyes widened to see a piece of his own tissue dangling from the instrument. If he’d been capable, he would’ve gotten violently sick. As it was, the procedure was repeated twice more while Aric tried desperately to think of anything but what they were doing to him. The medication didn’t prevent him from closing his eyes, but he couldn’t stop watching.

The last sample of flesh was handed to an assistant. “Log in and test the heart tissue samples from test subject five fifty-two. I want to know if his DNA and gene strands are compatible to merge with human subject two twenty-nine.”

“Yes, doctor.” The assistant disappeared.

And something chilling occurred to Aric—the fact that Bowman hadn’t bothered to put him to sleep, was openly discussing the procedure when he and his bosses knewthat Alpha Pack was onto them, meant that Aric wasn’t supposed to survive.

When they were done using his body, they wouldkill him.

Bowman continued, moving down to stand next to Aric’s spread legs. “Now obtaining semen sample from five fifty-two.”

The scalpel was handed back to Bowman, and Aric’s brain reeled in horror as the doctor’s latex-covered hand lifted his testicles. Only when the knife descended did he realize that the numbing agent must be wearing off. Fucking bastards!

The pain was extraordinary, both bone-cold and white-hot, like nothing he’d ever felt. Not even when he’d been attacked and turned into a wolf. In spite of the paralyzing medication, his back arched off the table.

And the red wolf howled again and again, but only in his mind.

“Hello! Can I help you?”

Rowan turned to the speaker with a half-formed reply in the affirmative… which promptly died on her lips. Standing right in front of her was a tall, lithe, impossibly gorgeous man dressed in skinny jeans and a snug navy T-shirt.

And, yeah. The guy had long, flowing sapphire blue hair she would’ve thought had been colored by Miss Clairol—if it weren’t for the matching wings.

“Well, fuck me sideways,” she blurted.

Golden eyes sparkled with humor. “An interesting idea. May I at least have your name first?”

That surprised a laugh from her, and she held out her hand. “Rowan Chase, LAPD. You?”

The man, or whatever, took her hand but instead of giving it a firm shake, turned it over and placed a kiss on her palm. “Some call me Blue, but my real name is Sariel, and I’m a former prince of the Seelie court. Now I’m an assistant in Block R, where I help Kira Locke oversee the rehabilitation of displaced and injured otherworldly creatures.”

Her skin tingled where his lips had touched and she slowly withdrew her hand, blinking at him. O-kay. “Seelie? What the heck is that?”

“I’m Fae,” he said proudly. “Or faery if you prefer.”

She eyed him from his glorious head to his feet, which sported a snazzy pair of Doc Martens. While the gorgeous slice of man looked like he belonged on a Paris runway, he sodidn’t look like any fairy in her book. But hey, whatever floated his boat. “Fae it is.”

“What is L-A-P-D?” he asked, spelling the letters carefully, as though they were foreign to him.

“That stands for ‘Los Angeles Police Department.’ I’m a cop, here on personal business.”

Excitement lit his face. “Oh! I’ve seen those on the television, capturing and shooting bad guys,” he said, making a gun with his thumb and forefinger.

His enthusiasm would’ve been cute if it hadn’t been for the vision of Luis Garcia dead on the dirty ground that still stalked her brain. “It’s not all fun and games,” she replied shortly. “Those people on the tube are actors and the shows rarely get it right.”

His smile fell. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m still learning so much about your world and have so far left to go that when I recognize something familiar…”

“Hey, no sweat.” Now she felt bad for ruining his fun.

Shrugging, he went on. “Anyway, you must be an extremely worthy female of your kind to have such an important job.”

“Tell that to the media and the general public.”

“What?” His brow wrinkled.

“Nothing.” She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation– anyconversation—with a blue-haired dude wearing wings. “Say, where does a hungry person get something to eat around here?”

Sariel brightened again and offered her his arm. “In the dining room, and you’re in luck because it’s time for the evening meal. I’ll escort you.”

“Sounds good. I could eat roadkill right about now.” Taking the man’s arm, she saw him wrinkle his nose and couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, that’s just a saying. I don’t eat dead animals off the pavement.”

“Good to know!” His relief was palpable.

Sariel led her back through the maze the way she’d come, but when they reached the hallway where her room was located, he made a turn in a new direction. After a few moments, they ended up in a big dining room, as promised. Like the rest of this place, the room was designed to create a homey feel.

Several large tables took up the space, which was made to house a number of people yet provide for more intimate conversation than it would have with just one huge table. In the center of each table were platters of food, served family style. And around the tables were quite a few men and a sprinkling of women. Most of whom had stopped talking and were checking out the newbie. Rowan looked around for Mackenzie, hoping for a familiar face, but didn’t see her.

“Hey, Blue,” someone called. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Rowan Chase,” Sariel announced, either ignoring the slight awkwardness or unaware of it. “Apparently she’s our guest for a while. Come on.”

He tugged her to a nearby table where a small blond woman sat with a handsome, dark-haired, goateed man and two other guys she’d seen at the gate. At least now they were dressed. The body language of the blonde and the goateed man, the way they sat close, the big brute leaning into her, made Rowan think they were together. Rowan sat next to Sariel, across from the others, eyeing the steak and baked potatoes in the middle of the table.

Her stomach growled, hopefully unheard due to the talking that had resumed around them. The goateed guy pushed the plates closer to her side and nodded.

“Dig in.”

“Thanks.” Reaching for the big fork on the steak platter, she dished up a piece, put it on her plate, then stabbed a potato.

“I’m Jaxon Law, by the way,” he said, and then gestured to the blonde burrowed into his side. “This is my mate, Kira Locke.”

Mate? Okay. Wolves mated, right? Did they get married, too? She didn’t see any rings on their fingers.

She addressed the other woman. “You must be the one who works with Sariel rehabilitating, um…”

Kira smiled. “Basically, we help any creature or intelligent being when they become lost or hurt and are brought to us. Right now we have a gremlin, a basilisk, two rescued shifters, and a wolf who’s—” She cut off the last part of what she was about to say at a quick shake of Jaxon’s head. What was that about? “Anyway, Nick is going to provide funds for us to build a rehab center on the grounds for that special purpose.”

“That’s really neat,” she said, and meant it. “I don’t have a nurturing bone in my body when it comes to taking care of sick people, so I can only imagine how hard it must be to nurse something that most folks don’t know exists.”

“We’re learning as we go,” Sariel put in. “We have doctors here, and Kira at least has an advantage because of her training in the medical field, especially in genetics, and she’s good with the patients. It’s not as if running a center like this has ever been done before, and certainly not in my realm, where they simply cast out anyone who’s different.” A shadow crossed his features, but he shook it off. “Still, the work is rewarding when we get good results.”

After a round of enthusiasm from the group about the project, a man with black hair a bit longer than Jaxon’s spoke up from beside him. “I’m Zander Cole, or just Zan. This is Ryon Hunter.” He waved at a blond man on his other side, this guy appearing a little younger than his friends.

Ryon smiled, open and friendly. “Hello.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” The jury was still out on the truth of that statement, but it was the polite response. Now she was eager to get to the heart of her visit. “I suppose by now you’ve been told I’m Micah’s sister. Do any of you know him?”

Guarded expressions met her question as she took a bite of tender meat. Too bad worry for Micah took the enjoyment right out of her meal, as it had with every aspect of her life since she was informed he’d died.

Jaxon spoke first, indicating himself and his two friends. “The three of us were in the SEALs with him. Then we joined Alpha Pack together, along with Aric and Raven, who aren’t… with us at the moment.” He paused, apparently reluctant to embellish.

Rowan glanced around the group. “It’s okay. Your boss already filled me in on what this place really is and what you guys do for a living. I’m a cop and I’m used to dealing in facts, so I’m not sure I totally believe all this stuff about conspiracies and otherworldly creatures. But I’m getting there.” She shot a pointed look at Sariel for emphasis. When she did, she noticed that he hadn’t made a move to touch any of the food, but she didn’t have time to wonder why.

“Kind of hard not to believe it when it’s shoved in your face, huh?” Kira said in sympathy. “A.J. over there was the same way not too long ago. He’s a former police officer, so maybe you two will have some things in common.” She gestured to a man who sat across the room with a huge bald guy. Jaxon wrapped an arm around Kira’s waist and kissed the top of her head.

Rowan shrugged. “Maybe.”

Jaxon brought the topic back to Micah. “About your brother, all of us thought he and several other Pack members were dead because that’s what we were told, same as you. We were devastated. When Nick came on board, he knew that the bodies were missing, but he was pretty much ordered not to say anything. We’re no happier about that than you must be, but we don’t blame him. Nick didn’t know for sure whether they really were dead—only what he was told.”

Rowan shook her head. “I’ll admit I was angry with your boss at first, but I don’t blame him, either. I just want the truth, and to find my brother. Even if he’s gone,” she added hoarsely. Her appetite fled.

Reaching across the table, Zan laid a hand over hers. “That’s all we want as well. Micah was—is—a brother to us. Now that we’re pretty sure he’s being held somewhere, alive, nothing is going to stop us from getting him back. And the other guys, too, if they’re out there.”

Heat enveloped her hand, traveled up her arm to her heart. The agony in her chest lessened, and she wondered if this was Zan’s gift—easing people’s pain.

“We know Savage is,” Ryon put in.

“Yeah, the snarky son of a bitch.” Jaxon’s words held no real heat, and his tone was sad, his eyes brimming with guilt. “It’s my fault he’s not here.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Kira breathed, hugging him tight. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself. Aric’s being taken was Chappell’s doing, not yours.”

Confused, Rowan waited for someone to enlighten her. Zan obliged.

“Jaxon’s gift, other than his wolf, of course, is that he’s a Timebender. He can literally bend time backward, but by no more than a few minutes. A few weeks ago on a rescue op, Kira was killed and—”

“No offense, but she’s looking pretty good to me,” Rowan interrupted, studying the other woman.

Zan continued while Jaxon stared at his plate. “That’s because Jax bent time back and saved her. But that caused Aric to be taken prisoner by Chappell’s minions instead.”

“Uh-huh.” Her cop’s brain balked at this one. She pinned Jaxon with a steely look that had made many a suspect squirm. “Show me.”

“What?”

She waved a hand. “If you can bend time, show me. Back up to when I walked in with the angel here.”

“Fae,” Sariel corrected.

“Whatever.”

Jax gave a wry chuckle. “I can’t. Wouldn’t do any good.”

“Why not?”

“Because you wouldn’t remember if I did. How do you know I didn’t perform it already, and we’re simply repeating the same conversation?”

She stared at him a few seconds, trying to process this, then snorted. “Damn, what a mindfuck.” The men laughed, and she supposed the joke was on her. Undaunted, however, and determined to get some sort of proof of these gifts Nick told her about, she addressed Zan. “So what’s your talent? Bet you can’t prove it, either.”

“I’m a Healer,” he said, arching a black brow. “And actually, I can. Ryon, give me your hand.”

The blond held it out. “Man, just don’t leave a scar.”

Zan turned his friend’s hand palm up, then reached into his pants, extracting a pocketknife. “This will make a cleaner cut than the steak knife.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. I didn’t mean—”

“Just watch.” With a grin, Zan flipped open the blade. Quickly, he made a swipe across Ryon’s palm. A thin line oozed red, but not too badly. “Do you see that? His hand is bleeding, right?”

“It is,” she agreed. “I think you’re both crazy.”

Without answering, Zan laid his palm on top of Ryon’s, aligning their fingers.

“Um, guys, that’s a good way to pass HIV or hepatitis,” she warned. Her cruiser was stocked with latex gloves in case she ran across someone with blood on them while on duty, which happened more often than one might think. Blood-borne illnesses were always a concern in her line of work.

Ryon winked. “It would be, if we were still able to catch human diseases.”

Before she could respond to that nonsense, Zan lifted his hand, turning it so she could see their palms.

“Now you both have blood on you. So?”

Zan took his cloth napkin and dipped it into a nearby water glass. Then he used the napkin to wipe Ryon’s palm clean and held the man’s hand closer to her. “Care to inspect it?”

Leaning over, she peered hard at the skin. His perfectly unmarredskin. She grabbed Ryon’s wrist and rubbed his palm with the pads of her fingers. No mark at all!

“I’ll be damned!” Releasing Ryon, she sat back in her chair and looked away from the small group as the total impact of everything she’d seen and heard in her short time here hit her full force.

Reallyhit. Micah was part of a paranormal black ops team, and the nonhuman type of evil truly did exist. As an LAPD cop, she faced danger every day, but even that couldn’t begin to compare to the world she’d stumbled upon and was now up to her neck in trying to grasp.

I wear a badge, carry a gun, and until today I walked around confident that I knew who the bad guys were and was sure of my ability to handle them. Then I find out I’m an insignificant bug on the stalk of the universe. Monster food.

Dinner forgotten, overwhelmed, she rested her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. She was in no way prepared for this. How the hell was she supposed to help Micah?

A gentle hand rubbed her back and she started, sitting up to glance at Sariel. His expression was warm, understanding. No one except Dean had bothered to comfort her in years, and the small kindness almost did her in. But she wouldn’t cry. She never did.

“It will be all right,” the Fae man said, smiling faintly. “Trust me.”

“What, so you’re a PreCog like Nick?”

“No. But you’re not without your own gifts and I have a feeling they will serve you well in your quest.”

“You mean I have some sort of talent, like Micah?” He nodded and she perked up some at the idea. She thought of the Dreamwalking thing Nick had told her about. “Cool. What’s my gift? How do you know?”

“Humans are so impatient.” He sighed, then shook his head. “How I know isn’t important, and it wouldn’t be as effective for you if I toldyou the nature of your gift. You must experience it for yourself to accept and use it.”

“Great. I want answers and I get Yoda for a sidekick,” she muttered.

“Who?” Sariel looked baffled and the rest of the group chuckled.

“I think she’s going to fit right in,” Ryon said.

Before anyone could comment, a Goth guy walked in who commanded not only Rowan’s attention but that of everybody in the dining area. He walked like a graceful cat and looked like a cross between a rock star and a gunslinger. Even among these men, he was unique. And no wonder—this was the man she’d seen shift to human from panther form.

“Who’s that?” she whispered to Sariel.

“Kalen Black,” he answered in a low voice. “One of the new recruits, but extremely powerful. He’s a Sorcerer and Necromancer.”

“Jesus.”

Kalen rapped on the table to get their attention. “Hey, Nick wants to see the Pack in the meeting room, pronto. The intercom’s not working, so he sent me to round up you guys.”

The guy named A.J. glanced up hopefully. “Me, too?”

“Sorry, man, not yet.”

Too green, Rowan thought. Outwardly disappointed at being excluded, A.J. heaved a breath and went back to eating. The bald man with him, however, wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood. As did Jaxon, Zan, and Ryon.

Jaxon shot an intense stare at Kalen. “We going wheels-up?”

“Yep, after sundown. He’s got the details on where we’ll find our two missing guys, and hopefully a bunch of Chappell’s scumbags, too.” Kalen’s green gaze found Rowan briefly. He nodded an acknowledgment of her presence, then looked at his friends. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” she called to them. “I want to sit in on this meeting.”

“No can do,” Jax said over his shoulder.

“This is my brother we’re talking about! You can’t just—”

“That’s exactly why we can—because he’s your family and you’re way too emotional. And if Nick wants you to know more, he’ll tell you.”

“I’m getting damned tired of that answer!” They filed out, ignoring her, and she pounded a fist on the table. Frustrated, she glared at Kira. “Tell me this gets easier.”

“Dealing with a bunch of overbearing alpha males?” The blonde snorted. “Right.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Same macho attitude, different location.”

Fine. They’d left her no choice but to resort to desperate measures. If the Pack thought they were leaving in the night without her, they were in for a big surprise.

Rowan crouched in a dark corner of the huge hangar, waiting. Despite her training as an officer and the dark jeans and shirt she wore, there was a better than average chance that she would get caught. She was only human, armed with nothing but stealth and maybe some luck. The team, with their super-senses, might very well detect her presence and make her stay behind, something she couldn’t allow to happen.

Using one of the compound’s SUVs as cover, she peered around the back end and studied the hulking shapes of several vehicles in the dim light coming from a wall fixture far across the vast space. Among them she counted two private jets, three SUVs, a couple of motorcycles, and several cars and trucks that she suspected were owned by the team members. The crowning glory was the three big Hueys at the far end, situated under a roof hatch that would open to allow them to take off.

The main problems were not knowing which mode of transportation they’d take, and how she’d manage to stow away and hide.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a faint glow. Startled, she whipped her head around to watch as a ball of neon blue light grew brighter, larger. Edging backward, she gaped as the ball shimmered into the form of a man—or rather, Sariel.

Crouching, he grinned at her, his beautiful wings spread. “Hello.”

“All right, that’s going to take some getting used to. What are you doing here?”

“Establishing myself as your partner in crime, of course.”

She appreciated the irony, considering. “Hey, that’s nice of you, but I don’t want you to get in hot water with Nick.”

The man looked alarmed. “He would wish me to bathewith him as punishment for assisting you?”

“No.” Rowan choked, not quite stifling a laugh. “‘Hot water’ means to get in trouble.”

“Oh.” He waved a hand. “That doesn’t concern me. What can he do to me, after all?”

She studied him thoughtfully. “True. But why do you want to help me?”

Amber eyes returned her gaze in the darkness, turned sad. “Because if I had anyone who loved me as much as you love your Micah, I’d want her to come for me.”

Aw, shit. Sudden moisture stung her eyes and she blinked it away rapidly. Reaching out, she touched his face. This gentle being’s words and that simple act forged the beginnings of a real friendship. She felt it to her soul. “That’s a good enough reason for me. So, how can you get me past the wolf squad?”

“Simple. I’m going to cloak your presence and you’ll accompany them without them even knowing!”

“How?”

He shrugged. “An easy invisibility spell that even the youngest of Fae children can perform. Causes quite a ruckus around the palace, I can tell you.”

Picturing it made her snicker. Good thing human kids couldn’t do that trick. “Okay. If you work your magic on me, how long will it last?”

“The farther you travel from the source—me—the weaker the spell will become until it fades altogether and you’re revealed. No matter where you are, though, it will only last a few hours at most.”

“I’m impressed.” She thought about it. “I think that’ll work. By the time it wears off it’ll be too late for them to bring me back here. I hope.”

“That’s the idea.”

Staring at her intently, Sariel laid a hand on top of her head and uttered a soft incantation in a language she didn’t understand. After a few seconds he released her, apparently happy. “Is that all?” she asked.

“Yes. I can see and hear you, but nobody else will for a while.”

At that moment, the hangar door slid open with a loud screech and multiple male voices echoed in the cavernous space. The moment of truth was at hand, and she would have been lying if she’d said she wasn’t nervous. The noises of the men preparing to leave, opening more doors and gathering equipment, reached her ears. Hesitating, she glanced at her new friend.

“Go on,” he urged. “Before it’s too late.”

“You sure this will work?” A stupid question to ask a magical fairy, maybe, but understandable.