His scent changed but his voice was smooth and unperturbed when he asked, “Are you ever going to show me how to achieve the half-form you wear?”
“Who knows. It could happen. And it might not.” Which was a lot more positive a response than the last time he asked.
He stood without using his arms or hands, twisting and pushing upright with his legs until he stood straight and tall over me. “I hope this is the beginning of peace between us,e-igido.”
I thought about peace, and how alliances were built on many things—DNA, shared history, cultural similarities, shared resources, mutual protection, change of circumstances, mutual need. I already shared some of those with Ayatas, but not all. “Are you going to help us against the Flayer of Mithrans?”
“It’s complicated. At the moment I have to say any help would be... unofficial. Someone in PsyLED Unit Eighteen found video of a torture scene from inside a local hotel.”
He had to mean the hacker on his Knoxville team. I waited.
Ayatas’s face was set in stone, showing no emotion as he said, “When the FBI saw the level of violence and the compulsion the Flayer of Mithrans was using, controlling all those Mithrans and humans, the interagency directors decided that PsyLED would no longer have lead on this, for fear that we would be more easily controlled and infiltrated by paranormals. I might as well have been told to stand down.”
I raised my eyes, realizing what it meant that he was wearing civilian clothing, no badge, no official dark jacket withPsyLEDon it in big white letters. He had entered my land in cat form and changed shape and dressed. He’d worn his pack the way Beast did, full of clothing and supplies. I said, “That’s stupid. Humans are much easier targets for fangheads.” Ayatas didn’t reply. “If you’re here, then PsyLED, ICE, ATF, DOD, the National Guard, and every yahoo redneck cop from here to Memphis knows about the vamps. Who’s going to show?”
“ICE took lead. They were planning a military raid on the Regal Imperial. They were driving in from Charlotte, arriving in force, with plans to work with Asheville PD, Buncombe Sheriff, and NC State HPD.” It didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t mention PsyLED. “But the ICE contingent was trapped by a massive rock- and snowslide on Highway 26 and the National Guard isn’t keen to go it alone, not without bigger weapons and more people.” He chuckled shortly. “The up-line brass are barely controlling their hysteria. Interagency command wants tanks. Rocket launchers. Local politicians want no property damage or collateral damage. It’s become a bureaucratic nightmare. ICE is trying to regroup and take back roads to I-40, but the weather isn’t cooperating. And since the quarry is trapped in Asheville, and they haven’t attacked the population en masse, I think they’ll wait until the sleet abatesto try again. For now, as they try to get their people in, and in place, you’re on your own.”
“Big surprise.”
“You can ask for help.”
Help? From whom? I asked you and you said no.And then I let his original words flow through my memory. He had said he couldn’t help officially. “So how can you help us?”
“Information. Things your IT people may not be able to discover. Things you need to know.”
“Like?”
“Your enemy is no longer at the Regal Imperial Hotel. I received word just after I arrived at your estate that there had been no recent movement in the hotel. The local LEOs sent in a mobile recon robot and saw nothing alive or undead. The Flayer of Mithrans, his scions, and any blood servants he left alive have moved elsewhere. There were four bodies stacked inside the front entrance and a trail of blood that led to the central fireplace. No one else will share that with you.”
He didn’t add the obvious—that the fangheads had left behind a crime scene that would take days to work up. Did Alex know? Did he have access to the police robot video? “Do you know where they’ve gone?”
“No. There was a citywide blackout that lasted four hours. There was also a fire that spread to several houses and took the attention of the first responders. We think they moved then.”
I thought about that as he waited. After it all settled deep inside me, and I realized how difficult all that would make any strategy we attempted, I said, “I’ll think about it, Ayatas. For now, stop marking territory on my hunting grounds or I’ll make you wish you had.”
Ayatas chuckled softly, and I realized he thought he had made headway in creating a relationship with me. Maybe he had. I didn’t know. “So now you know my cat scent. It is a step toward reconciliation, my sister.” Carrying his gobag and extra clothes, he left through the door, shutting it softly. He had left me a liter bottle of water, which I drank down. Somehow, it felt like a peace offering.
Keeping one hand clasped on the teeth and jawbone that had once been mine, I tossed the bottle into the recycle pile and scratched the wolf’s ears. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath that fluffed his lips in abbbbbbsound. Softly I said to the werewolf, “You helped your crazy-ass werewolf bitch to torture Rick LaFleur.”
Brute’s eyes opened and he rolled them up at me.
“Yeah, I remember. In return, you were tortured by a demon and rescued by an angel, who then cursed you to stay in wolf form forever. You and your angel helped set all this in motion, all of my long-term involvement with the vamps. All my acquisition of magics that are killing me. How much of my reactions to Rick are the result of angelic interference, hmmm? How much of what I’ve felt all these months is real and how much has been forced on me?”
The stinky wolf chuffed and rolled over, exposing his belly, his crystal eyes on mine.
It was a submissive gesture and I had no idea what it meant. “You’re no help at all.”
He chuffed again and blew out a dog breath of contentment.
Together, we fell asleep.
CHAPTER 14
A Hunk-a-Hunk-a-Hot-Man
Just before dawn I woke again, Brute bouncing on my chest as if he were doing CPR on me. Chuffing that awful stench into my face. It was more effective than smelling salts at waking me up. “Gah! Get offa me, you stinky dog.”
He chuffed with laughter but backed away and sat. He weighed around three hundred pounds and I felt as if my chest had caved in. Trying to get my elbows under me sent shocks of pain around my ribs. “You’d make a sucky service dog,” I grumbled.
