Текст книги "Sin undone"
Автор книги: Ларисса Йон (Айон)
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Back off… back off…He took in a ragged breath, desperate to keep control, because although the full moon was two weeks away, Sin’s blood had forced a high tide in his veins, and every primal urge was starting to rage.
Besides, there wasn’t a breed of succubi out there that didn’t steal something. Whether it was your seed, your soul, your life force, or your heart, they sucked something out of you and rarely gave back.
Sin definitely did not strike him as the giving kind.
The door flew open with a bang. Still hopped up with feral instincts, Con pivoted, fangs bared, to face the threat.
Wraith strode inside, his loose gait deceptively relaxed. Deceptive, because his bright gaze was predatory; he was fully aware of what he’d walked in on, and Con knew the cagey bastard well enough to know he’d file away the information and use it when it was to his advantage.
“Smurfette,” Wraith drawled, his eyes focused on Con. “E needs you in the ER. Warg came in, circling the drain.”
Sin scowled. “Circling the drain?”
“Dying,” Con gritted out. “He’s dying.”
Wraith nodded. “Time to see if you can save lives instead of just taking them.”
Three
Karlene Lucio wasn’t sure what would come first: freezing to death or bleeding to death. There was another possibility as well, but she refused to consider the idea that she was going to be decapitated by Aegis hunters.
Some of the very same Aegis hunters she’d been working with for years.
Pain streaked through her right shoulder where the bullet had entered, and snow stung her face as she stumbled through the dense forest, leaving a trail of blood a blind man could follow. Damned Canadian wilderness. Who lived here?
The person you need to find, that’s who.
Shivering despite the layers of clothing she wore, she stumbled over a fallen branch and did a face-plant in the crusted ice. A crack rang out, and wood exploded in shards an inch from her cheek. A muffled scream escaped from her as she rolled and came up behind a thick log. Her hand shook as she dug in her parka pocket for her pistol—not that she could hit the broad side of a Gargantua demon with her left hand.
Empty. Her gun was gone.
Frantically, she looked around her, dug through the snow, tearing her nails and fingertips, leaving bloody smears in the pristine snow. She didn’t even hear the second shot that put a slug through her upper arm and lodged in her side. She felt it, though, like a hot poker striking her with the force of a semi truck, and she flew backward, slamming into a tree trunk hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. As she lay on the ground, dazed, fire gathered in her veins, spreading through her body, and she almost welcomed it. Anything to not feel cold anymore.
The snow and the trees began to blur together. Something crunched next to her: footsteps. Weakly, she looked up at Wade, the male Guardian standing before her, the barrel of his pistol aimed at her forehead.
“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” he said gruffly. His eyes were sad but resolved. She’d expect nothing else from a Guardian who was forced to destroy someone who had deceived and betrayed The Aegis for years. Didn’t matter that they’d fought side by side, had worked toward a common goal—to rid the earth of evil.
She was now considered one of the evil… and a traitor, to boot. The Aegis’s new, more lenient stance on underworld creatures was even more of a joke than a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy.
She could beg for her life, but it wouldn’t do any good. And in truth, she’d never begged for anything, and she wasn’t about to start now. Besides, maybe this was for the best.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“Go to hell.” Her death might be for the best, but that didn’t mean she was going to make it easy on her killer. Wade was going to have to look into her eyes as he ended her life.
This time, she heard the shot. But she didn’t feel it. Blood sprayed everywhere, splattering the trees, the snow, her face. Wade crumpled to the ground, the top of his skull missing. And standing where Wade’s body had been was the very werewolf she’d come all the way into the middle of nowhere to see.
And though her vision was fading, she could tell that he didn’t look happy to see her.
* * *
Son of a bitch.
Luc looked down at the female Guardian whose pale blue eyes had gone glassy, and he knew she was about to lose consciousness. Sure enough, as he plugged the butt of his rifle into the snow, she twitched like a dying beetle, face pale from blood loss and cold, and she was bleeding a hot river into the snow.
Karlene.
Jesus. The last time he’d seen her had been in Egypt, where they’d met. And screwed. And then parted without a word, and Luc had never expected to see her again.
So what the hell was she doing here? And why were her fellow Aegi trying to kill her? Did they know her secret?
Right now, it didn’t matter. She was bleeding to death, the freak late-spring blizzard was getting worse, and there was, no doubt, another Aegi out here somewhere. The demon hunters rarely worked alone.
Cursing, he slung the rifle over his shoulder, gathered Karlene in his arms, and forged his way back to his cabin. She was bleeding badly, but he couldn’t risk being followed by a Guardian and he had to take the long way back—a path that took him along a stream bed that would hide his tracks if the blizzard didn’t.
Finally, wet, frozen, and exhausted, he reached his cabin. Inside, the fire blazed and the scent of rabbit stew permeated the air. In his arms, the female groaned. The sound was reedy, weak, and he had to hurry.
Carefully, he laid her down near the hearth, and then he peeled back the bearskin rug near the south corner of the living room. Knots and natural wood grain concealed the hatch he’d had installed and concealed by a sorceress, but with one well-placed strike with the side of his fist over one particular knot the door popped open. Instantly, a blast of icy air blew his chin-length black hair away from his face and dried out his eyes. He’d have to get a fire going down there or Kar would freeze to death before she had a chance to bleed out.
Gently, he picked her up and carried her down the steep steps. The room beneath was dark, stealing light only from the slats in the floor above. He lay her on the straw pallet, lit a fire in the hearth that had been cleverly vented through the fireplace above, and ran back up the stairs.
After grabbing his jump bag and a couple of blankets, he kneeled beside her and gloved up. Her lightly freckled face was pale, her short cap of strawberry blond hair matted to her skull, and she no longer looked like the tough-bitch Guardian who had gone toe-to-toe with him during battle-lust-induced werewolf sex. She looked vulnerable and fragile, and right now, he was her only hope of survival.
Working rapidly and with precision, he went through the standard ABCs—airway, breathing, circulation—ritual and was not thrilled with the results. Her pulse was rapid and thready, her breathing labored, and, damn, he wished he was a doctor instead of a paramedic.
He grabbed a pair of shears to cut away her parka, the sweater beneath it, and the thermal and silk shirts under that. The girl had definitely been prepared for the cold. Too bad she hadn’t been prepared for the two bullets that had torn apart her shoulder and arm.
The flesh was mangled, and bone thrust through the hamburger-like mess. Black streaks spread like evil vines from the wounds, through her shoulder and chest, lengthening and branching off as he watched.
Silver bullets. So the Aegis definitely knew what she was—a born warg. He’d seen her crescent moon birthmark on the sole of her foot when they’d been naked. If not for that, Luc would have left her to die in the snow. He wasn’t taking any chances, so lucky for her he’d just gotten a call on his sat-phone from Con, who’d given him the latest SF update. Only turned wargs were affected. Wasn’t thatjust fortuitous as all hell for the bastard borns.
The wounds were bad. Kar needed to go to UG, but the nearest Harrowgate was two miles away, and in the blizzard it would take him hours to get there– ifhe could get there. He had a snowmobile, but it wouldn’t do much good in this weather, and the noise would attract any nearby Aegi.
And they were still two weeks from the full moon, which meant there was no hope for Kar to shift and heal her wounds.
If he didn’t get her real medical attention, these wounds would kill her.
He could buy her time, though. The silver bullets had to come out. The poison was spreading through her body, had already reached her abdomen, and at this rate, she’d be dead within the hour.
“Kar?” He spoke in a low, soothing tone as he rummaged through the medical kit for his forceps. “This is going to hurt.” She didn’t reply, and he hoped she was too out of it to feel what he was about to do.
Drawing a bracing breath, he dug around in the deepest hole—the bullet had gone through her arm and entered between her fourth and fifth ribs. He eased the slug from her body and tossed it into the trash. Those Aegis bastards.
He’d despised them for more than ninety years, since the day one had nearly killed him as he shifted out of his werewolf form. But his hatred had hit a new level three years ago.
Ula.
Dammit. He didn’t have time to dwell on the female he’d wanted to take as a mate. She was dead, and her death at the hands of the Aegis slayers took up too much time in his nightmares anyway.
The second bullet was harder to remove. He was forced to make an incision to widen the wound, and though Kar didn’t wake, she moaned. The silver slug was lodged in her humerus, and all around it, the bone had blackened with poison.
Cursing, he worked the bullet out with the forceps, and as it pulled free, Kar screamed in agony. Her body jackknifed, and he had to use his weight to hold her down.
“Almost done,” he grunted, as he pinned her and waited for her to settle. It took a minute, but she quieted and stilled, mercifully losing consciousness again.
Luc worked quickly to finish, but it took forever to get the wounds stitched and dressed. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. She’d lost a lot of blood, was probably bleeding internally, and if he didn’t get her to UG fast, she was going to die.
* * *
Kynan Morgan couldn’t believe he was doing this. No human in his right mind would knowingly walk into the building that housed the Warg Council. Especially not if you were a member of The Aegis.
But then Kynan wasn’t completely human, probably wasn’t in his right mind, and he definitely wasn’t without defenses. Nope, the amulet around his neck, Heofon, might have put the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it had also come with a cool invincibility charm that meant nothing but a fallen angel could harm him.
Pretty awesome.
Okay, Lore could kill Ky, but they’d worked out their differences a while back. Mostly. The demon still liked to needle him, but that went both ways.
Kynan stood at the threshold of the ancient ruin of a building that had likely, at one time, housed Russian nobility. Now it was in shambles, and when a dark-haired woman with wary eyes gestured for him to follow her inside, he noticed that the interior was in worse shape than the exterior.
Crumbling walls and chipped stone floors greeted him, though throw rugs in vibrant shades of crimson and gold had been laid out. Potted plants and trees that grew right out of the floor gave the rooms an earthy, outdoorsy feel, which made sense, given that wargs, especially the born ones, were basically wild animals.
The female stopped outside a room that might once have been a grand library. It still housed books, but most of them were yellowed with age and dust. Two males stood in the center of the room, and as Kynan stepped inside, he sensed movement behind him.
He didn’t have to turn around to know that he’d just been surrounded and trapped. The wargs definitely wouldn’t be taking any chances.
The larger of the two, the one with the broad nose and shaggy, reddish hair, narrowed his eyes at Kynan. “You should know that no Guardian has ever set foot in Warg Council headquarters. How did you find us?”
“The Aegis has ways.” Actually, they’d been searching for this place for decades, and they still didn’t know where it was. Kynan and Wraith had tracked it down just yesterday—the demon could find anything, especially now that he was as charmed as Kynan. “Who are you?”
Red sneered. “Valko.” He nodded to the towhead. “This is Raynor. And your name so we can notify next of kin?”
Funny guy. “I’m Kynan.”
“And why are you here, Kynan?” Raynor asked. “Do you have information about the plague that’s killing our people?”
“If he did, do you think he’d tell us?” Valko scoffed. “The Aegis wants nothing more than to see us extinct.”
“That’s not true.” Kynan removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket. “The Aegis has been killing fewer werewolves than ever before, and you know it.” Thanks to Tayla and Kynan, The Aegis had gone through several changes, which included a capture-instead-of-kill policy for most werewolves. As long as they didn’t harm humans, werewolves were pretty much left alone. At least, they were supposed to be. Not everyone in The Aegis agreed with the new policies that made attempts to avoid killing nonharmful underworld species, and it was hard to police individual Aegis cells.
“So why are you here?”
“Because I need information about a new breed of werewolf.”
Valko frowned. “New breed?”
“One that shifts during the new moon instead of the full moon.”
Both wargs’ eyes went utterly flat. Valko’s expression turned to stone. “There is no such thing.”
“There is.” Kynan cracked his knuckles, prepared to crack heads, too, if that’s what it took to get some answers. “One of them is on the run with Guardians after her, and I’m trying to save her life.”
And then some heads were going to roll for this. The Guardian’s father, an Aegi himself, had contacted the Sigil in a panic, worried that his daughter was in danger. Sure enough, after a little investigating, Kynan had learned that instead of bringing the matter to the Sigil, the Guardian’s cell had decided to ignore the new policies and mete out justice according to the old laws.
“We’ve already lost contact with a Guardian who was hunting her,” Kynan continued. “So I want to know what the hell is up with her and why she’d head to the Northwest Territories.”
“Whatever she is, you need to kill her,” Valko said, surprising the shit out of Ky. “Abominations are always dangerous.”
Raynor stiffened, and an undercurrent of tension spun up in the room. “You think anyone who was not borna warg is an abomination.”
“That isn’t what I said,” Valko said in a mockingly pleasant voice. “You varcolacare too sensitive. Not everything is about you.” He turned back to Kynan. “We know nothing about wargs who can shift during the Feast moon. I suggest you kill the female and let it go.”
Valko was lying, but clearly, he wasn’t going to give up anything. And since no one he’d spoken to, not even Eidolon or the R-XR, had heard of any kind of warg that turned on the new moon, Kynan was at a dead end.
Four
“Our species faces extinction.”
The Warg Council’s Prime Enforcer made his grim pronouncement while leaning over the table around which nine other members sat, his fists planted firmly on the scarred oak top. Like many born wargs, Ludolf had black hair, brown eyes, and a penchant for drama.
“That’s an exaggeration,” Con said calmly, though inside he was anything but. Still in his paramedic uniform, he’d come straight to the Moscow hideaway after leaving Sin, and while he’d anticipated the usual flaring tempers between the born and turned wargs, he hadn’t expected them to pounce on him the way they had. Anxious for information from Underworld General from the only Councilmember with an inside track, they’d practically dragged him into the room, which was a large chamber in the basement of a building the Council had owned since moving from its Romanian stronghold more than a century ago.
The grilling, from all sides, had started the moment he’d taken his seat as the sole representative for the dhampire race.
“An exaggeration?” Valko, the Council leader, slammed his fist on the table. “Is that what your boss told you? I think he’d say anything to protect his precious sister.”
No doubt about that. But Eidolon was also working his ass off to find a cure. Conall stood to address the others. “Eidolon is making progress—”
“What kind of progress?” That from Raynor, one of the four turned-warg Council members. “And Sin should have been killed a long time ago for her part in this.”
For some reason, a growl took root in Con’s chest, but he managed to squash it. “Sin might be the answer to the cure,” he shot back. “Eidolon is experimenting with her abilities as we speak.”
“Eidolon,” Valko spat. “I don’t trust him. He’s a traitor to all underworld beings. Anyone who would mate with an Aegi is worthy of only contempt.” His brows slammed down to frame a murderous glare. “Speaking of Aegi, you work with one named Kynan at the hospital?”
“I used to,” Con said. “He quit a while ago.” Quit so he could become an Elder, one of the twelve members of the Sigil who ran The Aegis, but Con didn’t think Valko needed to know that. “Why?”
“Because he left just minutes before you arrived. Did you tell him how to find us?”
Con blinked. “Kynan was here?”
“Yes. Apparently The Aegis is hunting a Feast warg, and he wanted information.”
That caused a stir among the crowd. Originally created thousands of years ago by a freak mating between a demon and a warg, the resulting abominations had been enslaved and bred by demons to kill other wargs. Though they were no longer enslaved, Feasts still possessed an inbred instinct to kill werewolves. They were so despised and feared that they didn’t even have a representative on the Council. Probably because they were killed on sight.
No exceptions.
Ludolf’s lips peeled back from his teeth. “You didn’t tell him anything?”
“Of course not,” Valko snapped, because it was truly a dumb question. No one wanted The Aegis to know about Feast wargs. The fear that the slayers would use Feasts to hunt varcolacand pricoliciwas too great. “I hinted that any such warg is one-of-a-kind, and told him to kill her. But I’ve dispatched a team to hunt her.”
“I did, too,” Raynor said, and yeah, now there’d be a competition between turneds and borns to see who could get the female’s head first. Too bad for her, but right now the Council had more serious problems.
Con locked gazes with each of the other Council members one by one, seven males and three females, starting with the lowest-ranking turned warg, to Valko. “We’ve learned that the virus only affects varcolac.”
Silence fell like an ax. For a moment, no one so much as breathed. Then, just as suddenly, the room exploded in curses from the turned wargs, and not-so-subtle utters of “Thank the gods” from the born wargs.
Raynor shot to his feet with such violence that his chair flew backward and cracked against the wall. “ ‘Thank the gods’? You racist bastards!”
Valko stood. “Calm down. No one is happy about this turn of events, but it does mean that wargs are not doomed to extinction.”
“No,” Raynor snarled. “Only we second-class citizens are, but who cares about that, right?”
“Enough!” Con barked. “Arguing isn’t going to solve anything. What’s important is that we now know who is at risk.”
“And that helps us how, damnedpire?”
Con hated that insult, only tolerated it from Luc because they had an antagonistic relationship anyway. His temper flared, and he bared his fangs at the turned female who’d flung the barb at him. Sonya returned the display of aggression, her teeth glaringly white against rich, dark skin he’d felt under his hands one night not so long ago.
“It means born wargs no longer need to isolate themselves,” Ludolf said loudly, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “We can round up the varcolacs—”
“And give you ‘purebreds’ an excuse to treat us even worse? You going to put us in some kind of camp?” Raynor scoffed. “I wouldn’t put it past the pricolicito have started this plague in the first place as a way to get rid of us.”
Valko stepped around the table, the bitter stench of menace preceding him. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Raynor moved to meet the larger male, a plan that could end with his throat ripped out.
“This was no plot to exterminate turned wargs.” Conall put himself between the two males. If they wanted to shed blood, he couldn’t care less, but a battle right now would require his participation, and if hebled, he might put the turneds in the room at risk from the virus he carried. “But one thing is certain; we can’t let this get out. If members of the Council, people who shouldhave level heads, believe there’s a conspiracy, think about the general public. We could have a civil war on our hands.”
“So you’re suggesting that we continue to let pricolicicitizens live in fear unnecessarily?” Ludolf’s disgusted tone made clear what he thought of the idea.
“Oh, yes, we wouldn’t want the precious purebloods to suffer along with the mutts, would we?” Yasashiku said.
Shit. This meeting was going to end up in a full-on dog-fight in a minute. Every person in the room was an alpha, and though there was a pecking order within each of the pricolici, varcolac, and dhampire societies, rank meant nothing outside an individual’s society. And with the way aggression was winging through the tension-thick air, this wasn’t going to be a minor scuffle. Fur was going to fly.
“What do you think, Conall?” Valko asked. “Since your breed isn’t affected by any of this, what’s your take?”
“I’ve already told you what I think. We need to keep it quiet for now. We can’t afford to let hysteria tear us apart more than we already are.” He would also keep quiet about the fact that his breed apparently wasaffected.
“We?” Raynor sneered. “No one persecutes you dhampires. You are born that way. Not made against your will.”
“For the love of Sirius, stop your whining!” Ludolf shouted.
Sonya rounded on Ludolf. “Do you blame us?”
It was true. The turned wargs were looked down on as inferior beings. Varcolacwere underrepresented on the Council, their words and opinions weighed less than those of born wargs, and their issues were treated as trivial. They’d been given voting rights only two years ago, which still grated on most of the pricolicicouncil members. Only Feast wargs were looked down on with more disdain.
“We’ll put this to a vote.” Con clenched his fists to keep from knocking some heads together if anyone disagreed. A diplomat, he was not. “Those in favor of keeping this under wraps for now?”
All but two members, both pricolici, raised their hands, sealing the decision.
“It’s settled, then.” Con yanked his leather jacket off the back of his chair. “We can meet again in a week, or earlier if Eidolon has a breakthrough.”
“Hold up, dhampire,” Valko said. “There’s still the matter of what to do with Sin.”
Con bristled. “What do you mean, ‘what to do with Sin’?”
“She must be held responsible. You will bring her to us.”
Con schooled his expression to hide his surprise. That Valko would demand justice for something that was a turned-warg issue was extremely unusual. “Sin didn’t start this epidemic intentionally.”
“A drunk driver doesn’t set out to cause an accident, but in a human court, he’s held responsible.”
“Since when do you care about human issues?” Con asked. “Human laws don’t apply to her, and because Sin is a Seminus demon, she’s not subject to warg law, either.”
Valko steepled his fingers, his expression unusually neutral. “We will present her to the Seminus Council for punishment.”
Whoa. Okay, it was strange enough that Valko wanted justice, but to have it come through official channels, rather than having Sin killed, was almost unbelievable. Something was up. “And if they decide she’s done nothing wrong?”
“Then we’ll involve the Justice Dealers and the Maleconcieo.”
Ah, okay. Lightbulb moment. Eidolon had been raised by the Judicia, demons whose entire purpose was to mete out demon justice, and for years he’d served as they had, as a Justice Dealer. If Dealers and the Maleconcieo, the highest demonic authority that presided over all demon Councils, were involved, Eidolon would be brought into the mix, and he might very well be forced to carry out Sin’s punishment—probably in the form of death.
Valko had despised Eidolon for years, since the day the doctor had failed to save Valko’s son after he’d been shot by an Aegi’s silver bullet. That Eidolon had later mated with an Aegi had only fueled Valko’s hatred. Valko would love to see Eidolon forced to kill his own sister.
Con scanned the room. Anticipation glittered in every warg’s eyes, as though they already smelled blood in the air. “Eidolon needs her to find a cure or to develop a vaccine.”
“Then perhaps we should involve the Justice Dealers now,” Raynor said. “If she’s held in prison, she will have no choice but to submit to Eidolon’s tests and treatments.”
“You’re suggesting she’ll run?” Con asked. “She won’t. She’s committed to ending this epidemic.”
Skepticism laced Valko’s voice. “You have one week.”
“One week is not enough—”
Valko shoved to his feet. “You will stick to her like glue for the week, and after that, you will bring her in. If Eidolon is still seeking a cure, we’ll let the Seminus Council decide what to do with her. But she willface justice for this.”
Cursing, Con headed for the door, refusing to stay in that room for one more minute. Those two societies were ticking time bombs. And with a disease spreading faster than the Black Death had, the last thing the world needed was a werewolf civil war.
* * *
Valko and Ludolf remained behind in the conference room after everyone else had left. Valko trusted all the pricolicimembers of the Council, but he’d been raised with Ludolf in the Botev pack, and there was no one he trusted more than the ruthless bastard who had killed their clan leader and then handed control as pack alpha over to Valko.
Ludolf sat back in his leather chair, his heavy-lidded gaze sweeping between the closed door and Valko. “You think they fell for it?”
“Fell for what, Dolf?” Valko asked innocently.
Ludolf snorted. “Don’t play that way with me. I know you too well, and you’re too cunning. Once you heard that only the varcolacwere affected by the plague, your wheels started spinning.” He kicked his feet up on the tabletop. “So? Did they fall for it?”
There was a long silence while Valko considered the intelligence level of each member. Most turneds were half-wits with pathetic instincts, but one couldn’t underestimate them, especially not Raynor. And Con, as a dhampire, definitely wasn’t stupid. “The varcolacdon’t want to believe that we possibly care about their plight, but yes, I think they believe my proposal was genuine. They’re aware that I dowant Eidolon put down, after all.” Oh, yes, Valko’s hatred for Eidolon was well known, so no one would suspect that his suggestion to involve the Justice Dealers and Sem Council was about far more than punishing Eidolon and his sister.
“And Sin?”
Valko had nothing against Sin. Not now, anyway. In fact, he’d like to thank her for starting the epidemic that was killing the varcolac. But he had a plan for her.
“Are you still in contact with your brother?”
A slow smile stretched Dolf’s thin lips. His half brother had been in hiding for three decades for crimes against other wargs, but they wouldn’t have lost complete contact. “I can be.”
“Good. Tell him that if he sends Sin’s head to Eidolon without anyone discovering who was responsible for her death, the Warg Council will forgive his past transgressions and give him a place on the council. If Con is caught in the cross fire, even better.”
“You are devious. The turneds will be blamed for taking revenge.”
“And we will sit back and watch them be destroyed, if not by the virus, then by us, with the full cooperation of the Seminus Council.” Valko couldn’t contain the hum of anticipation in his voice.
“You truly believe the Sems would go to war over the death of one female half-breed?”
“Of course not. But they’ll be angry enough to side with us when the war starts.”
“And why will a war start?”
“Because,” Valko said, “we’re going to leak the fact that the disease affects only varcolac, and once the lowlife turneds start up with their conspiracy theories and assume that we are responsible for the disease—”
“They’ll attack us.”
Dolf grinned. “And we will finally have the excuse we’ve needed for centuries to destroy those abominations.”
“And,” Valko added, “depending on which side the dhampires fall on, we might be able to take them out, as well. The canine were-world will finally be cleansed.”
* * *
As he exited the rear of the Warg Council building, Con sensed the presence of another dhampire. The parklike grounds spread over half an acre, the copse of trees near the far wall of the property concealing the only Harrowgate in a two-mile radius. The scent of warg was strong around the gate; any species with a halfway decent sense of smell would hightail it back into the Harrowgate or away from the Council building immediately.
Unless they were there for a reason, and as Bran emerged from the forest shadows, Con knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Bran was, as many dhampires liked to say, a scary motherfucker.
Standing seven feet tall and built like a bull, the guy didn’t have to do anything to get people to move out of his way. But it was his missing right eye and the scar that ran from his right temple to the left side of his chin that sealed the deal. Well, that and the full tank of crazy that gleamed in his good eye.
He kept his long, silver mane pulled back in a ponytail so none of it obscured the mess that was his face.
“Conall.” Bran’s rough voice vibrated deep into Con’s chest. “We need to talk.”
Con crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t think you came all the way to Moscow because the vodka is so good.” Probably not the smartest way to talk to a senior Dhampire Councilmember, but Con hadn’t bowed and scraped to anyone in a long time.
