Black hat 8 gray seas, p.3
Black Hat 8 - Gray Seas, page 3
The unexpected voice jolted me, and I twisted to find a daemon carving a path toward me.
“Isiforos?” I was surprised how glad I was to see him. “How did you…?”
Jase Isiforos was one of my lieutenants, and a Miserae daemon who fanboyed over Asa and Blay.
“Marita.” He held up his cell. “We exchanged numbers in New Orleans.” He put it away. “I was already local, so I booked it over here.”
As sweet as my relief had been, I couldn’t stop it from twisting into bitter suspicion.
“Last I heard, you were in Baltimore.” I tuned in to his heartbeat. “What are you doing here?”
Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.
Slow and steady. He was calm. His hands, I noted, were also empty.
“I watched the broadcast.” His smile flashed, and it was blinding. “You were phenomenal.”
When Stavros decided to broadcast the match against Asa for the throne of Hael, he hadn’t anticipated I would become the star of the show. Neither had I. But when Stavros cheated, gravely wounding Blay, I went supernova on the whole arena. I had no regrets. Except that I hadn’t been faster, both to save Blay pain and to prevent Stavros from escaping. The coward.
“She was,” Asa agreed, his lips twitching. “Although I had to watch a recording to see it for myself.”
As much as I wanted to keep my cool, I was losing it fast. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“Doesn’t it?” He chuckled then hit one knee, pounding his fist over his heart. “Asa is my chosen sovereign, and I will do everything in my power to protect him. That includes dumping my caseload into my team’s lap and catching a flight to help any way I can.”
Chosen sovereign?
No, no, no.
Kings weren’t elected by the people. Each left crimson footprints up the dais to their new throne.
If you wanted a crown, you bled for it. You didn’t plaster the neighborhood with Vote for Asa posters.
That was not how this worked by any stretch of the imagination.
“This is not good.” I dragged a hand down my face. “Please tell me you’re the only one.”
“No can do.” He rose and dusted off his knees. “Asa has more support now than ever.”
“Daemons respect power,” Asa mused, lowering my arm. “You impressed them with your strength.”
“This was not the plan.” I balled my fists on my lap. “We didn’t sacrifice Aedan so—”
Clicking my teeth together, I kept myself from outing our plan to put my grandmother on the throne.
“Your fan club will be disappointed to hear you’re not interested in the crown.” Isiforos rubbed his nape. “I saw Dad last night, and he was using his Cricut to make Asa for King shirts to give his friends.”
That was exponentially worse than posters.
“Tell him not to waste his vinyl,” I clipped out, then exhaled and schooled my tone. “Change is coming.”
“I’ll rein in the resistance,” Isiforos bargained, “but only if you tip me off so Dad can get his craft on.”
“Deal.” I scanned the debris. “Where’s Marty?”
“In his SUV eating lunch.” Isiforos anchored his hands on his hips. “I’ve taken control of the scene.”
That would explain why my EMT never returned, and why no one else had ventured into the building.
“Can you fold down the seats in our SUV? We need to stow Clay in there until Asa and I can repair him.”
“Consider it done.” He rocked back on his heels. “You want the casualties tally?”
“Not really.” I pinched my lips together. “But I owe it to the victims to hear it.”
“Five total.” He counted them off on his fingers. “One chef, three assistants, and the waiter.”
“The casualties would have been much worse,” Asa said, “if we hadn’t had the place to ourselves.”
“If we hadn’t had the place to ourselves,” I countered, “we wouldn’t have made such a tempting target.”
Isiforos waved to Marita, who was heading our way. “Keys?”
Shifting my weight to one side made my hips ache, but I palmed the keys and tossed them to him.
“I have bad news.” Marita plunked down next to me. “Derry is coming.”
Of all the things she could have said, I hadn’t anticipated her ranking that as the worst-case scenario.
“You did get blown up,” I reasoned. “I can see why he would be concerned.”
“He’s not concerned, he’s excited.” She kicked a chunk of rubble. “He put on his adventure pants.”
The quick check out of the corner of her eye was gauging how to comfort me. Humor was her preferred method, but not everyone appreciated a laugh while corpses were being carried out under sheets on stretchers behind them. Me? I took the good wherever I could find it.
“Wait until he goes to sleep and cut them off at the knee.” I chose a moment of levity over the gravity of the situation. “That’ll show him who’s boss. No one will respect adventure jorts.”
Jean shorts. Jorts. The fashion lingo I learned from Clay had proven oddly useful yet again.
“I was thinking of hot gluing fireworks poppers to the soles of his shoes.”
“Those tiny wads of paper that explode when you throw them at the ground?”
“Yep.” Her gaze went dreamy. “I can hear the screams now.”
“That sounds…” I struggled for words of encouragement, “…exactly like something you would do.”
“You’re a true friend.” She bumped shoulders with me. “Always encouraging me to live my best life.”
A commotion at the former entrance caught my attention as Black Hats began securing the area.
“We’re done here.” I grunted as I shoved to my feet. “Isiforos should have the SUV prepped for Clay.”
Asa, who had gone quiet, accepted the hand up I offered him, smearing warmth across my palm.
“You’re bleeding.” I gripped his other wrist and tore his arm away from his midsection. “How bad?”
“The EMT cleaned the wound and bandaged me,” he said, which was not an answer. “I’m fine.”
With agents within earshot, that was as much as I was likely to get from him.
“Okay.” I pinched my lips together over another rebuke. “Let’s get you in the SUV.”
This close to the compound, we had our pick of healers who could patch him up again, but did I trust them with him when he had already been weakened before this?
“All right.” He held his arms down by his sides to prove his okayness. “Marita?”
“Right behind you.” She kept pace with him. “I have a doctor en route, one Meg recommended.”
For a moment, I could only close my eyes as relief washed over me that she was two steps ahead of me.
“Meg? That’s who you were calling?” I glanced back at her. “That was fast work.”
To contact the other side, the pack employed a local white witch coven. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn the witches were on call 24/7 to handle demand for Meg’s services…and access to her contacts.
“I told her where I was going and what I was doing before I left, so she knew to expect trouble.”
“Remind me to wire her later.” I nodded to Isiforos as he swept past us. “I’ll need to borrow a laptop.”
“You get the friends and family discount, remember?”
Not fooled by her innocent expression, I asked, “The discount is one hundred percent, isn’t it?”
Regardless, I would forward the funds to Meg, which she would disperse to help support her pack.
Just because Mom and Meg were friends, and Marita and I were friends, didn’t mean I deserved endless freebies and bottomless favors. As often as I got into trouble, I would bankrupt the pack that way.
As expected, Isiforos had left the rear doors and the trunk on the SUV open in preparation for loading Clay. I was glad for it too, since that meant the front passenger door was unlocked, and I settled Asa without a hitch.
“I’ll ride in the back with Clay,” Marita volunteered. “Unless you want to get started on the repairs?”
As much as I wanted him awake and aware again, the process required privacy to ensure his protection.
“The risk of damaging him is too great,” Asa answered for me. “A steady hand is required for the shem.”
Another good point. The shem only worked if it was exact. The magic animating Clay was old and finicky.
“He’s right.” I rested my hand on Asa’s abdomen, force-feeding him healing magic. “It’s a delicate process.”
About the time I finished with Asa, I heard Isiforos barking orders to the other agents.
The SUV dipped and groaned when they hefted Clay in, but that was nothing new.
“The director wants to talk to you.”
A growl poured over my lips as I recognized the self-important voice behind me as belonging to Marty. “No thanks.”
“You might think you’re special, but even you answer to the boss.”
Tuning him out, I made sure Clay was secure and Marita comfortable before I got behind the wheel.
“Hey.” Marty panted after me. “I’m talking to you.”
“And I’m not talking to him.”
If the director wanted to act like a spoiled brat, I would treat him like one.
The promised doctor met us at a doc-in-the-box-style clinic off the highway. Ours was the only car in the lot, and déjà vu swept over me in a paranoid rush I couldn’t afford to indulge. The quiet reminded me of the restaurant, how that meeting should have been secure too, but it hadn’t been.
Shaking off my unease, I helped Asa out and locked Clay in while Marita watched our backs.
On my scalp, Colby flexed her feet, yanking on my hair, but she kept quiet to maintain her cover.
I didn’t ask the nurse who greeted us at the door how much it cost to rent the clinic. I hadn’t known such a thing was possible. And I didn’t care. I would pay any bill that came due. Even if I had to take out a loan from Clay.
The nurse, who I assumed came with the service, parked us in a room and left.
Fifteen minutes later, a slender woman with lavender hair and periwinkle eyes entered with a tablet.
“I’m Doctor Lillian Vandross.” She handed me a tablet with a blank patient form. “You must be Meg’s friends.”
“She’s my godmother,” I confirmed, ticking boxes. “This is my mate, Asa Montenegro.”
“Can you tell me what happened, Asa?” She urged him onto the table. “Where are you hurt?”
“I was in a restaurant when it exploded,” he told her. “It hurts everywhere.”
That last bit was enough to make me fumble the tablet.
“Okay.” She gave him a once-over. “Can you remove your shirt, please?”
The wall smashed into the side of my head. That was how it felt. Like I had been sitting there, minding my own business, and the room attacked me. I couldn’t see more than white paint and ceiling tiles.
“They’re in fascination,” Marita explained from behind me. “She has trouble with people touching him.”
As the overwhelming rage subsided, I understood she held me in a headlock, that she was restraining me from attacking the doctor for asking to see Asa shirtless. To treat his wounds. From an explosion.
Goddess bless, I was a mess.
“I’ve been married for fifty-two years,” Dr. Vandross said dryly. “Your mate is pretty, but mine’s prettier.”
A rumble climbing up my throat threatened to challenge her on that point until Marita smacked my nose with a rolled-up pamphlet on diabetes. “Bad Rue.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I complained. “What happened to besties for the resties?”
“You hired me to protect Asa.” Her shoulders twitched. “His health and wellbeing are my priorities.”
A little of the fight drained out of me, which was odd under the circumstances.
Marita had bellyflopped all over Asa to escape the rubble, but I hadn’t cared one bit. I hadn’t been in my right mind, but still. I had attacked Moran for less. Why was Marita different? The only theory I could pin down was…I trusted her. Absolutely. And every time she chose Asa over me, I respected her more.
Gentling her hold, Marita asked, “Can you behave if I let you go?”
“I make no promises,” I answered honestly, “but I’ll try my best.”
When she released me, except for one forearm, I turned to find Asa shirtless and his stomach oozing.
“A projectile entered your abdomen here.” Dr. Vandross wiped the area clean. “You removed it?”
“I did.” He let her push him back. “It was a fork.”
“Next time,” she grumbled, “leave it in until a medical professional can help.”
Asa hissed through his teeth when she palpated across his lower stomach.
“You’re tender here too?” She frowned. “Did you sustain any other injuries?”
“He was stabbed with cold iron,” Marita volunteered while I was debating whether to answer. “A lot.”
“You’re dae?” She chewed on her bottom lip. “There must be shrapnel in the wounds.”
“A top daemon surgeon operated on him to repair the internal damage within hours of him sustaining his injuries.” I kept my growls mostly to myself. “I’ve purged his system with magic daily since then.”
“How long ago?”
“Four days.”
“He should have healed then.” She hummed to herself. “Where was the surgery performed?”
Content to let me talk for him, Asa wore a faint smile tinged with simple happiness.
Either he enjoyed my rabid protection of him, or he was pleased that I could rattle off the answers without skipping a beat.
With fascination behind the wheels in our brains, I couldn’t guess which was pumping the gas.
“In a private clinic.” I wasn’t about to give details on the farm, so I hedged. “A rustic one.”
“Did he have x-rays done?” She removed her gloves. “That should have picked up on any stragglers.”
“The clinic had a portable x-ray machine, yes.”
“Hmm.” She drifted to the door and peered into the hall. “Shannon, can you prep our patient for an MRI?”
“This place has an MRI machine?” I boggled at a small clinic affording one. “You think that will help?”
“This clinic is owned by a co-op, of which I am a part. It has everything. That way we can treat high-risk paras without involving a hospital or imaging center.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “You definitely fit the bill, so I booked the clinic for a few hours.”
A soft laugh from the table left me convinced my bad behavior was what tickled him earlier.
“Asa also counts.” Marita attempted to make me feel better. “He’s a high-value political target, and this place is warded within an inch of its life to provide a safe environment for his treatment and recovery.”
While those things were true and I appreciated the precautions, I wasn’t proud to make the list for a very different reason. I was a risk to anyone who harmed Asa, but that would always be true. I didn’t have to be a jealous rageaholic, though, but fascination disagreed with me.
“How long will the MRI take?”
“Forty-five minutes, more or less.” She collected the tablet. “You’ll have to stay in the waiting area.”
“That works.” I could tell I had surprised them both. “I need to make a few calls.”
The farther I got from them, the less touching I saw.
The less touching I saw, the more likely I was to behave myself.
“You know my number if you need me,” Marita told me. “I’ll stick to him like glue.”
“You can stick to the door to the MRI room,” Dr. Vandross corrected her. “The outside of it.”
Marita just smiled, and I didn’t envy the battle the doctor had ahead of her.
On the threshold, I recalled the comment on the wards. “Can I get something from my SUV?”
“Ask Shannon for a visitor’s pass.” Dr. Vandross was busy staring down Marita. “It will let you reenter the clinic.”
To spare myself more embarrassment, I ordered my feet to get me out of the room. They weren’t happy about it, but they did as they were told. Eventually. The nice nurse met me in the hall, and I signed out a badge that prickled with magic.
Outside I had trouble stepping off the curb, but the doctor couldn’t do her thing with me foaming at the mouth over her shoulder, and Marita had proven she would protect Asa against all comers.
Once I got close enough to the SUV to see Clay’s limp form, I had less trouble leaving Asa behind.
But that didn’t stop me from setting a forty-five-minute timer on my phone.
To ensure I was alone, I cast a sweeping spell across the parking lot that turned up no magic or threats.
With that done, I twisted an illusion spell to conceal me, but not the SUV, then opened the trunk.
“Clay,” Colby cried from my hair. “You can fix him, right?”
“I’ve done this many times before,” I comforted her. “You want to help?”
Like me, she coped with adversity best through action.
“Can I?” She glided onto his chest. “He looks so…”
Nothing could prepare you for the first time you saw his shell absent of his vibrant personality. Without his twinkling eyes, wide smile, and endless chatter, he was a lump of raw material. Unreal and unfinished.
“I’ll teach you his shem.” I selected a wooden modeling tool with a rounded tip from my kit, which had survived the blast unblemished. I wasn’t sure what spell which ancestor of mine put on it, but I felt certain it would outlast me. “You might want to size up for this.”
A burst of magic grew her to cat proportions, and I passed over the tool for her inspection.
“How does it work?” She gripped the wood hard. “Will it fix his head, or do we?”
Had it been up to me to sculpt him, he would have resembled a lump of mashed potatoes at this point.
“Once the shem is in place, he’ll regain awareness, and his magic will begin repairing him.”
“He always comes back the same way?” Her worry was palpable. “His wigs will still fit him?”
