Текст книги "Fair Game"
Автор книги: Patricia Briggs
Соавторы: Patricia Briggs
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He might have seen a flicker, she had told him as they waited for the cops and officials to do their cleanup bit on Gallops Island. But its been nearly a week since they killed Jacob. Magic goes fast when you waste it the way these guys do. Like to like, the magic released by Jacobs death would have lit up a little, enough to tell him that there was something in the room, especially if it were a little dark, but not enough to see what it was.
And Charles had attacked as if he knew exactly where he was aiming. Fast. Freaking fast and powerful. Isaac had heard the thunk as the other wolf had landed on the beast, had watched him hang on after the creature had rolled over on him a couple of times. By that time Isaacs clock had been rung but good, so all he remembered were pieces of the end of the fight but it was enough to wow him.
Isaac had been in his share of fights, both before and after his Change. He knew without arrogance that he was damned good, and five years of karate before hed been Changed inspired by the desire to never let anyone throw him into a locker again had proved useful in his job as Alpha. But if he ever went in a ring against Charles, he might as well roll over and show his throat before the first round of hostilities began. No wonder the Marrok used Charles as his cleanup man. Who was going to stand up to that?
Isaac drove the van because when Horatio, the wolf who owned the van Horatio was not his real name, but he wanted to be an actor and his grasp of Shakespeare was really good, so the nickname stuck got a good look at Charless set face, hed tossed Isaac the keys. Then hed suggested that he could stop by Isaacs house sometime in the morning to pick up the van if they didnt really need him to come along. Hed waited to make sure that Isaac wouldnt order him to drive, but looked extremely relieved when Isaac gave him the nod. Horatio had more common sense in his little finger than anyone in this van had in his whole body including Isaac.
Horatio was a good fighter, though. He might have been handy when they ran into the bad guys. Isaac glanced over his shoulder at Charles, who was playing intently with the phone hed taken from Isaac. Beauclaire was sitting in the far backseat, so maybe he wasnt as oblivious to Charless state after all. The Marroks Wolfkiller kept his body turned in the exact direction of their goal. Probably they didnt need Horatio. Probably they didnt need anyone except Charles.
And Horatio would have insisted on driving if hed come; it was his van, after all. Charles had chosen to give Agent Fisher the shotgun seat which might have been old-fashioned manners; old wolves did things like that. It was unlikely that hed done it so he could screw with Isaac by sitting behind him, even if that was the end result. The black cloud of intensity Charles shed made Isaac all sorts of jumpy and would have had Horatio, who was much more high-strung, driving like a six-year-old trying to throw a bowling ball.
It was late, maybe one in the morning, and traffic was correspondingly light so Isaac punched it a little. Not so fast that the cops would feel like it was imperative to pull him over, but not so slow that the wolf in the backseat would decide to take over.
It was a delicate balance. Horatio didnt have any kind of GPS navigation in his old van, but Agent Fisher used her phone to imitate one. They decided that I-93 would be the fastest way there, even though it was a farther distance than taking the back roads.
Pull over, said Charles, his voice rough.
Isaac wasnt going to argue with him. So he eased the van to a stop on the shoulder of the road.
Charles hopped out, patted the side of the car, and said,Go on out to the address I gave you. Im going to run the direct path and I should beat you there.
It wasnt until then that Isaac realized Charles had begun changing to wolf. Isaac couldnt speak except to swear at the worst bits while he changed, and Charles could have a regular conversation, or something pretty close to it. Damn. When he grew up, he wanted to be like Charles.
Charles shut the door and took off into the darkness, still on two legs, but his gait was an odd leaping glide, neither human nor lupine. Funny, Isaac mused, how being a werewolf had made him complacent, made him think he knew all there was about being a wolf.
He pulled back onto the interstate and asked,How long until we get there?
Fifteen, twenty minutes, Leslie said. He thinks he can beat us?
These werent Isaacs usual stomping grounds, but he had a fair idea of geography and a pretty good idea of how fast a ticked-off werewolf was. He mentally added 10 percent more speed just because it was Charles and said, I think he can, too.
Charles wasnt sure if this was a good idea or not, but Brother Wolf was done with riding in a car when he had four good feet and Anna needed them. He changed the rest of the way as he ran, which wasnt his favorite way to do it, but he managed.
Isaacs phone, which Charles had left on the seat of the van, had suggested that he could cut through some woods, a few cemeteries and golf courses, and end up where he wanted to be. He didnt expect it to be quite that simple which was a good thing. Fences, waterways, and houses kept him from adirect path, but he managed. As he got closer, his link to Anna sharpened. He still couldnt talk to her, but he could feel her pain and fear and that made him flatten out and run even harder.
He narrowly missed being hit by a Subaru Outback on a narrow highway, left it stopped dead with the sour smell of burnt rubber and the driver asking his companion,Did you see that? What was that thing? Only as he approached the house did he slow down.
She wasnt hurting anymore.
And now that he could think instead of panic, he knew what Anna had done. Who knew better what a shift felt like than another werewolf? She was smart, his mate. The wolf was tougher than the human and better able to defend herself, so shed shifted to her lupine form.
She didnt need immediate rescuing; she wasnt hurting now, so he could take a moment. Brother Wolf was all for finding where they had her and killing everyone involved. Charles was okay with the last half, but thought that resting until he wasnt breathing like a steam engine would make it more possible. He dropped to the ground under a bunch of lilac bushes near a sign that read WESTWOOD DANCE STUDIO: ESTABLISHED 2006.
Charles would go in when he was at his best, not panting like a greyhound after a race. Brother Wolf wasnt happy, but he had learned that sometimes his human half was wiser and sometimes not.
High above him, the moon sang. Tomorrow she would be full and there would be no ignoring her. Tonight she kept him company as he rose to go hunt down those who would harm his mate.
Benedict shoved the stick at Anna in a quick, jerky motion designed to fool the eye. Charles occasionally sparred with Asil using Chineseqiang, and they used the same sort of movements, twirling the spears and making the ends bob around.
Maybe if shed been human, it would have worked.
Instead Anna dodged, then grabbed the end just behind the hypodermic when the stick pushed past her. She twisted her head while she clamped her teeth on it.
If it had been a human holding the spear, shed have pulled it from Benedicts hands. If she had been a real wolf, she couldnt have damaged it. But, though she was small for a werewolf, she was huge for a wolf and stronger than a wolf her size would have been. The end snapped and the hypodermic fell at her feet.
She had a weapon just let them try to get it out of the cage while she was in her wolf skin. And when she was human, she could use it. She smiled at the old man, letting her tongue loll out at him. Take that.
I am not anyones victim, not anymore.
Benedict dropped the stick and jumped back and she smelled fear. She showed her teeth to him and growled, just a little. A taunt.
Uncle Travis took four big strides to reach Benedict and slapped him hard in the face with the flat of his hand.Stop that. Stop that. She is an abomination, but we have killed abominations before. Shes a prisoner and weak you are a Heuter. We dont cower before disease-ridden monsters.
Benedict started to say something, then stiffened and raised his head.Hes coming.
Whos coming? asked Travis.
Benedict changed without answering. Between one breath and the next he became something
fantastical.
Anna expected him to be ugly in his fae form, for the outside to represent the inside, but she should have known better. Shed seen the white stag.
A wide rack of antlers, snow-white and silver tipped, rose like a crown from his head which was not quite human. The eyes were right and the mouth, but the rest of the face was sharper, elongated in an oddly graceful manner.
There was such beauty in the odd symmetry of his features, a beauty not hurt at all by his silver skin. No. Not his skin, though that was pale as well. His whole upper body, face included, was covered with a short, silvery white fur that caught the light and sparkled. His hair was three or four shades of gray and it cascaded through and over the base of his antlers and lay over his hugely muscled shoulders in locks, like drips of melted wax.
He was huge. He wouldnt have been able to stand in a normal house. If Uncle Travis was six feet tall, and she thought he was near that, then Benedict was twice that, not including his horns.
His clothes had melted away and it occurred to Anna that he probably hadnt changed at all, just lost his hold on the glamour that all fae could use to look human. But his shoulders, chest, and belly were covered with silvery armor that reminded her of an armadillos covering. It wasnt clothing, but part of his skin.
From the chest downward the pelt of silver hair grew longer, thicker, and curled like the pelt of a buffalo. It covered his hips and left his genitalia peeking through here and there. His legs were built like the back legs of a buffalo or deer though the size looked more like the giraffe shed seen at the Brookfield Zoo when she was a kid.
At his
hocks or knees, the fur darkened to steel gray and grew longer, like the hair feathers, her horse-crazy friend from third grade had insisted they call it on the bottom of a Clydesdales legs.
He stood on a pair of two-toed hooves, like a moose. He bent his head back, his nose rising toward the ceiling and his antlers exaggerating the movement, and raised one foot up nervously, before setting it down and lowering his head again. He rocked from one hoof to the other, making hollow noises on the wooden floor and leaving marks on the polished surface.
Hes just scared, said Heuter, in the lazy Texas drawl he seemed to drop and pick up again without notice. Theres no one out there. They are clueless.
Anna hadnt heard a car drive up and couldnt smell anything different, though the door was closed and she couldnt get a good scent-fix on anything outside of the barn anyway. Still, she suspected that Les Heuter was right. She knew that no one was looking at Heuter for the killings.
Benedict tossed his head and let loose with the challenging roar shed heard before. Nothing answered him but the distant sounds of rushing cars and wind trailing through leaves.
But Anna sensed it, too. A feeling of impending doom, like standing on railroad tracks and feeling the rails begin to vibrate before she could hear the train. It took her a moment to realize what that feeling was: shed been so sure he couldnt find her.
He didnt come through the door. He crashed through the walls like a battering ram. Old two-by-twelve timbers bent open before him like leaves of grass and dripped off him as toothpicks and twigs. His eyes caught hers, swept the room, and then focused on Benedict.
The red wolfs head lowered and he sank down just a little and growled, a sound so deep that the floor of her cage vibrated.
The horned lord shook his great antlers and bellowed, charging forward, in spite of the terror Anna could smell. Charles waited, then moved just enough to get out of his way. The faes hooves slipped on the hard, slick floor and he hit the mirror, cracking it, before he managed to stop.
Les, get my Glock, snapped Uncle Travis. Its still loaded with silver bullets.
Heuter had pulled his own gun, but, obedient to his uncle still, he ran for the office. It meant that he wouldnt shoot Charles yet, but the respite wouldnt last long.
Anna couldnt do anything, stuck in the cage. Charles had many strengths, but he was even more adversely affected by silver than most werewolves. She couldnt let them shoot him.
She had to do something. Anna shoved her head through the silver-coated bars and fought to get free, digging her claws into the wooden bottom of the cage for leverage. She was smaller than most werewolves, so maybe she could force her way out or maybe the bars would yield to her need to protect her mate. The silver burned even through her thick coat of hair, but she ignored it and kept struggling as she watched her mate battle with the monstrous fae.
Charles leapt as Benedict swept past, landing momentarily on the horned lords back, and then Charles kept right on going for a dozen strides before turning to face his prey again. It happened so fast that Charles had already stopped before blood started gushing from the long tear down the side of Benedicts neck. Arterial blood, black with oxygen, it sprayed a little as it pumped out.
Heuter had reached the office and Anna felt the bars give against her shoulders. She lunged again, harder. Uncle Travis grabbed the remnants of the bang stick and, swinging it like a baseball bat, he hit her in the face, slamming the side of her head into the bars and wrenching her neck.
Mindful of Charless battle, not wanting to distract him, Anna didnt make a sound, just kept struggling.
Charles crossed the room in the same zigzag motion shed seen him use when hunting moose. He didnt look like he was moving very fast but he crossed the space in record time. This time he sliced the horned lords face open with his fangs.
The cut on the side of Benedicts neck had already quit bleeding; he healed that quickly. But fully half of his silvery body was crimson with gore. He staggered and reached both hands to his face. Charles had taken out one eye entirely and sliced though the faes nose.
It took the fight out of Benedict Anna could see how that would be; she was pretty sure that something in her nose was broken, and it hurt, blurring her vision and sending weakness shivering through her muscles. Then Heuter came out of the office with a second gun, and she quit caring about anything except getting out so she could keep them from shooting Charles. The bars had moved that last time, before Travis hit her; sheknew it.
Anna wiggled with all of her might, and the floor gave a little beneath the claws of her back feet. It was too little, too late. The red wolf prowled slowly forward about fifteen feet from Benedict, giving Heuter the perfect shot.
Heuter stopped, fumbled the second gun before putting it in his holster. The fumble made him rush his shot to make up for it and he squeezed the trigger just after Charles lunged.
The sound pulled the old mans attention from the fight. Les! Get your scrawny ass over here and give me my gun. You cant hit the broad side of a barn. Get a move on. My grandfather was faster than you when he was eighty-six.
Instead of trying for a second shot Heuter ran back toward Travis proving to Anna that he was no Alpha wolf, whatever he thought he should be.
The bars gave a little bit more and she was sliding forward and Travis hit her again, in exactly the same spot on her nose where hed hit her the first time.
Charles knew he was winning. He didnt know why Benedict Heuter wasnt going invisible; maybe he was too panicked to do it. Charles wouldnt complain. The horned lord healed faster than a werewolf, but he couldnt replace blood, not unless he was a lot more powerful than he seemed. Blood loss was slowing the fae down, making him clumsier.
There were things that would have made this better. The floor was too slippery it was a dance floor and he could smell the wax on it. It bothered the fae more than it did him, though, so it wasnt really a major problem as long as he didnt miscalculate. Hed also rather not have two other villains loose and running around with silver-loaded guns while he fought thefae, but they were human and Brother Wolfs instincts were to discount them as a threat. The other thing he knew was that, winning or not, he had to keep his attention on the fae. Slower, clumsier but he was fast enough and deadly with those antlers. Hed scored once on Charless shoulderwhen hed gone for the faes throat, and it burned. The tips of those antlers didnt just look silver; they were silver.
The second rule of any drawn-out fight was to demoralize your opponent. The fae had started out scared of him. The strike to Benedict Heuters face wasnt anything near fatal, but losing an eye was scary and creatures with antlers and hooves were prone to panic. Fight or flight instinct, the scientists said. Wolves were all fight, and creatures like Benedict were all flight. Panic made people stupid, and since Benedict was already not all that bright from what Charles could tell, panicking him could only make things better.
Of course, the first rule in any kind of fighting was not to get into a long-drawn-out confrontation in the first place. Charles started to sprint forward again when there was a crack of a pistol. The bullet didnt hit him so he ignored it and continued his line of attack. But the small pained sound that Anna made almost immediately afterward was another thing entirely.
He looked over to see Anna half in and half out of the cage, her nose dripping blood, and Travis Heuter standing beside the cage with an extra-long, extra-thick pool cue that had been chewed up on one end. Anna jerked herself back into the cage, where all they could do was poke at her and something hit him like a freight train in the ribs.
Ignoring the pain, he caught the horned lords leg, just above his hock, and his fangs severed the big tendon and the smaller muscle there. In a human this would be the Achilles tendon, and slicing it rendered the faes leg useless.
Benedict tried to put his leg down and fell when it collapsed under him. Charles slid under the antlers and closed his teeth on the horned lords neck.
Benedict was beaten. Helpless.
He had raped Lizzie Beauclaire and doubtless dozens of others, probably killed as well. Brother Wolf thought he needed to be killed. Charles hesitated.
A car pulled up in a squeal of brakes and rubber and Charles recognized the sound of the van Isaac was driving. The cavalry was here, the horned lord subdued. Killing him to save Anna was unnecessary.
There was something wrong with Benedicts ability to reason, possibly wrong enough to make him not responsible for his actions. Had he been born into a different family, maybe he wouldnt have spent his adulthood killing people. Hed given up the fight, lying still beneath Charles and waiting for the final, killing strike just as deer or elk sometimes did. He was harmless. Imprisoned in bars of steel, hed hurt no one.
On the island, Charles had decided that he would no longer kill for political expediency, because it had put Anna in danger by interfering with his mate bond. Brother Wolf and he were in agreement: this was not a political kill. This one would have hurt their mate, had killed the wolves under their protection and had hurt the brave little dancer. Brother Wolf knew what should happen to those who broke the laws: justice.
Charles sank his teeth in deep and then gave a sharp jerk, popping the bones of Benedicts neck apart. The fae spasmed briefly as life left and death entered, and then Charless prey was nothing but meat. It felt right and proper, and something inside him settled with the meting out of justice. This was what he was, the avenger for Benedict Heuters victims. This was his answer to the ghosts who had haunted him.
Why had he killed them? Because it was just that they pay for the harm they had done. Warmth flooded his flesh as the cold fingers of the dead left. He was free of them as they were free of him.
Something warned him, instincts or the sound of a finger pulling a trigger, and he moved instantly. He heard a gun go off and something hit Benedict, almost where Charles had been a moment before. That was a second shot that had missed: someone was a lousy shot.
Charles moved again, leaving the bulk of the horned lords body between him and the guns, before turning to see that both Travis and Les had guns out, impossible to see who had shot at him. But Traviss gun was aimed at Anna.
This is the FBI. Drop your weapons, Goldstein shouted from the open door next to the hole Charles had put in the wall. He and Leslie both had their guns drawn, too. There was no sign of Isaac or Beauclaire Charles assumed they were rounding the building to see if they could enter from theback. Drop your weapons or Ill shoot.
Dont be hasty, Agent Goldstein, said Travis. He had his gun in a steady two-handed grip. This gun is loaded with silver. I shoot her in the head and she dies. I know that no one wants that.
Charles stood frozen, his breath still. He was too far away. It would take him three leaps to get to Travis and that was two leaps too many.
Les Heuter had raised his hands over his head but he hadnt let go of his gun.
Les Heuter, Travis Heuter, drop your weapons, said Goldstein. This is over.
No one moved.
Charles growled.
Drop your weapons, said Goldstein, and then he gave in to what must have been years of frustration and pushed it too hard. You are done. We know who you are and you are going down. Make this easy on everyone.
You drop your weapon, Travis screamed. You fucking drop yours. You arenothing. Nothing but the impotent tool of a liberal government too weak to serve its people and protect them from these freaks. It sounded oddly like a memorized speech, like some of the phrases Charles Mansons little harem had spouted. Maybe Travis Heuter had said it so often he didnt have to think about it anymore. You dropyour weapon, or Ill shoot her now and move on to you.
Goldstein and Leslie were focused on Travis. They missed Les, missed the odd expression on his face that changed from desperation to satisfaction. They didnt see him change his grip on his gun, drop down on one knee, and fire almost in the same single motion. Charles had seen it, but there was nothing he could do without risking Travis shooting Anna, and he wouldnt do that.
Get down. Get down now, shouted Goldstein, but Les Heuter was already on the ground.Flat on your face and lock your hands behind your head.
Les had already done it before Goldstein had gotten out a word. The humans reactions were too slow. Now Les was harmless and killing him would be more difficult. Had Charles had a gun at that moment, he would have killed Les anyway, because although Heuter had shot his uncle, it hadnt stopped Travis Heuter from pulling the trigger. Travis Heuter, with a bullet hole right in the center of his forehead, had still managed to squeeze off a shot before he died.
Anna had collapsed in a heap on the bottom of the cage.
Hed hit her in the thigh and her blood pooled around her like a red blanket. Her nose was bent and swollen; Travis had broken something when hed hit her with the stick.
It wasnt my fault, said Heuter. It was my uncle. He made us do it. He was crazy.
Anna whined, and Charles quit hearing Les Heuter try to blame the dead for his crimes.
Charles wrenched the doors of the cage apart with his bare hands, not even realizing that hed become human again until it registered that he had opposable thumbs to grip the skin-burning silver. Hed never been able to change that quickly before.
And he stank of fae magic. He jerked his eyes to Beauclaire, and the old fae, standing in the doorway next to Isaac, gave him a nod. Later, Charles would wonder at that; he didnt know that there was a way for a fae to affect the change of a werewolf.
But Anna was hurt and there was no time to worry about what Beauclaire was right now. No time for the blind panic he felt or the way he wanted to tear into Travis Heuters dead body. He had to make sure that Anna would survive.
stop the bleeding until we can get an ambulance out.
Charles growled because Goldstein had come too close to his injured mate. But Isaac stepped in before Charles was driven to act.
Leave him alone; you dont want to be anywhere near them right now. Smart wolf, that Isaac. Too young or not, Bran had been right to leave him in power. Charles would have killed anyone who got too close.
Threat to his helpless mate averted, Charles mostly ignored the words going on behind his back as he checked Anna over with gentle thoroughness.
Why is he wearing deerskin and beads? Shut up and stay there until we get some cops in to read you your rights. I mean, hes Native American but how are we going to explain
When Charles changed without thinking, when he changed from wolf to human too fast, sometimes his clothes forgot what century he was supposed to be in. The soft deerskin felt comforting and familiar as he touched Annas poor nose. She licked his fingers nervously because he was hurting her.
First, the bleeding.
He reached down and ripped Traviss sleeve off his arm, ignoring the squawk from the feds as he did so. But Anna growled when the makeshift bandage came close to her, so he dropped it. It made sense that she wouldnt want his scent on her, but Charless buckskins wouldnt work, leather not being absorbent at all.
I need He didnt get the words all the way out before Isaac said, Catch, and tossed him one of the huge first aid kits all of the packs kept in their cars on Brans orders. Just because you could heal fast didnt mean you could heal fast enough, the Marrok liked to say.
Charles banished his das words, wishing the ghosts of them didnt linger in his ears. There was no reason to panic. She was bleeding freely, but the bullet had gone right through and was embedded in the floor, and there was no sign of arterial bleeding. But Brother Wolf wouldnt be happy until she was well.
Once he had the bullet wound under control, he took a second good look at Annas head.
He bent down to touch his lips to her ears and asked her,I can do it now, or you can wait until later. Their drugs dont help much and theyll have to rebreak
Now. Her voice was clear as a bell in his head and he realized that their bond was open and strong.
For a moment he was breathless. When had that happened? When hed accepted his role as justice once more? Accepted that there were other answers than death but that death was the proper and fitting one? Or had it been when hed seen blood and known that Travis had managed to hurt her even with her mate so close, when guilt and right and wrong had become only words next to the reality of his mates wound?
But Anna was hurt and there would be time to figure out what had happened later.
He used their bond to soak up her pain and take as much of it into himself as he could. Then he set the bone of her nose back where it needed to go before the werewolfs ability to mend quickly made it heal crooked. She didnt flinch, though he knew he couldnt take all the pain from her.
Stop that, Anna scolded him.You dont need to hurt because I do.
But I do, Charles replied, more honestly than he intended.I failed to keep you safe.
She huffed a laugh.You taught me to keep myself safe a much better gift for your mate, I think. If you had not found me, I would have killed them all. But you came and that is another, second gift. That you would come, even though I could have protected myself.
She was confident and it pleased him. So he didnt think about the three experienced, tough wolves these men had killed at their leisure. Let her feel safe. So he didnt argue with her about it, just ran gentle fingers through the ruff of her fur.
The ghosts are gone, she pronounced with regal certainty, and was asleep before he could answer her.
But he did anyway.Yes.
13
When Charles was a boy, every fall his grandfather had taken his people and met up with other bands of Indians, most of them fellow Flatheads, Tunaha, or other Salish bands, but sometimes a few Shoshone with whom they were friendly would travel with them. They would ride their horses east to hunt buffalo and prepare for the coming winter.
He was no longer a boy, and traveling east was not a treat anymore, not when it meant that he and his mate were back in a big city instead of settled into his home in the mountains of Montana. Three months had passed since hed killed Benedict Heuter, and they had come back for his cousins sensational trial. Boston was beautiful this time of year the trees showing off their fall colors. But the air still smelled of car exhaust and too many people.
He had testified; Anna had testified; the FBI had testified. Lizzie Beauclaire on crutches with her knee in a brace, and the scars that the Heuters had left her with, had testified. She might, with enough surgeries, be able to walk without crutches again, but dancing was out of the question. Her scars could be reduced, but for the rest of her life she would bear the Heuters marks as reminders every time she looked in a mirror.
When the prosecution was done presenting its case, the defense began.
Theyd spent the last week guiding the jury through the hell that had been Les Heuters childhood. It had almost been enough to engage Charless sympathy. Almost.
But then, Charles had been there, had seen the calculation on Les Heuters face when he shot his uncle. Hed been planning this defense, planning on blaming his ills on the dead. His uncle had been wrong; Les Heuter was smart.