17. Tez

17

Tez

While taking Bree breakfast, I ran into Slade's father.

I'd never met him before. But his face was framed by distinctive pale hair with stripes, and he had the same slant to the square jaw as the shifter who was my boss, so there was no doubt that's who it was.

He stood outside Bree's cell. The thug's intense gaze followed my progress as I skirted the sunken area—it still held the Drakes that used to be Jaimie and Todd. Both were asleep in beast form, and they took up almost every square inch of the cage.

In the far corner, a Bellati lifted a shrouded form onto a stretcher. What unlucky bastard had they drained this time? An arm fell free from the shielding cloth. The hand was covered in scars, and the fingers were missing their ends?—

My stride hitched. Was that Finn beneath that? Was he dead? Couldn't happen to a nicer asshole…

Slade's father glared at me. Me being me—I went with the best-defense-is-offense approach. "Who the hell are you?"

I might not have been so brazen if Finn's dead body hadn't totally freaked me out, or if this hairy guy's presence outside Bree's room didn't make me want to knife him. If I'd paused to think, I might have changed tactics.

Instead, his eyes flared gold. "Name's Karst. I'm your fuckin' boss."

"Slade's my boss," I corrected.

"Well, I'm his. Which means you report to me." His eyes slid to Nemi on my shoulder. "Are you the fuckin' birdman?"

My eyes narrowed. "Maybe."

"I already brought the bitch breakfast. She's got visitors at the moment. But I'm hungry." He put his hand out for the tray.

I'd selected the stuff for her, but getting into a pissing match over it seemed beyond dumb. So I handed him the tray and gestured to the stretcher now being carried out of the room. "Who died?"

He suddenly looked uneasy. "Not so sure he fuckin' died. According to those Bellatis, he's moved into new real estate." He glanced toward Bree's room.

Fuck. My heart was already going like a trip-hammer. But he wasn't done.

"I've given my son and you a mission," he continued. "Merchant that needs a fuckin' tune-up. Slade's got the details. Need it done today. It's flip side."

I had no idea what he meant, but I simply nodded and moved away. My mind spun. Finn was—where the fuck was Finn? And why had Victor brought Slade's father to this stronghold, when he'd needed him at Drosfi?

Nemi chattered away in my ear as we headed for Slade's quarters. I couldn't understand hummingbird lingo, but I think I agreed with her. My instincts screamed that everything was about to go south.

After climbing a few flights of stairs, I hammered on Slade's door. Perhaps a little louder than I should have.

"You may enter."

My skin prickled. His voice sounded different. I opened the door—it wasn't locked.

Slade's quarters were large but not palatial. They included two rooms and a living area, with a window rather than a landing ledge. His distinctive, heavily muscled form stood before that window, looking out.

"I ran into your fucking father outside the cell," I said. "And something has happened to Finn."

"Finn has implanted himself into one of the Trinity," Slade stated without looking at me. Then he gestured to the table behind him. "Take a look at the blueprints. I would appreciate your recommendations."

My recommendations ? I doubt Slade had ever asked anyone for advice of any kind, and certainly not with any hint of politeness. And Finn was implanted into one of the Trinity?

They'd been freaky enough before. Now—I didn't even have words…

Slade added, "What fucking was my father doing?"

The profanity, odd as it was, reassured me just a little. "He was guarding the prisoner. Sent me here, said he'd given you a job."

"That is true."

Before he could continue, the door opened without anything resembling a polite knock. When I saw who strode in, it made perfect sense.

Victor. He had his two remaining red-scaled goons with him, as well as three Dragon shifters who remained outside.

That was a whole lot of firepower for a casual visit. Something about the way Victor's eyes slid from me to Slade put every instinct I possessed on full alert. They were now between me and the only exit, which had me moving to stand with my back to the wall and hands out to my sides.

Slade regarded Victor calmly, but the look in his eyes was far from respectful.

Victor's narrowed. "Karst told me you're going to see to that merchant? I sent blueprints."

"Yes," was all Slade said.

"Take him." He pointed at me. "And ten mercs. No Dragons will be required. That should be sufficient."

Ten? And no Dragons? I think my mouth dropped open. But Slade merely said, "Very well."

Victor frowned at him, as if he'd expected an argument. I certainly wanted to give him one, but before I could say anything, he spun and left, taking his freaky followers with him.

Slade, meanwhile, turned to me. "I need you to round up ten mercenaries to assist us."

I stared at him. Slade called them idiots, bastards, and assholes. Sometimes mercs. Never mercenaries.

They'd be really pleased at me ordering them around. It was something I ordinarily would have looked forward to, but instead, I was uneasy. "You're only taking ten?"

"Yes," he replied.

I frowned. Were his blue eyes flashing ?

"Is fucking something wrong?" he asked.

My agitation increased. You mean, "Is something fucking wrong?"

He frowned at me. "Of course."

I didn't think non-concussed Slade would ask me that, but I went with it. "Ten mercs aren't many, even if we are just going in for a tune-up. And no Dragons—what's up with that? We've never done this without them."

"Victor must think it is enough fucking to handle the situation, or he would not have suggested it."

I stared at the shifter. He looked like Slade. But…

"Don't stand there fucking," he said. "Get going. We depart in half an hour. I want to get this over with, and quickly."

I turned and left, my mind buzzing with questions. And none of the answers were good.

Slade was not acting normally. I'd never heard of a concussion increasing one's vocabulary. That he'd agreed to go on this quest with only ten minions wasn't just weird—it could be disastrous.

I was suspicious by nature, but my instincts were screaming. Were we being deliberately set up? Slade usually ran the show here, but his father had been brought in by Victor.

My gut twisted. Because Slade and I had witnessed something unforgivable… We'd seen who the true power was. And now it resided inside one of the Amityville triplets.

This entire crazy organization revolved around fear, from the top position on down. And we'd discovered that Victor wasn't the top dog. He didn't seem the forgiving sort.

Visions of the flaming Dragon surged through my mind.

I supposed death by mission would be preferable…

I entered the mess hall, randomly selected two tables of mercenaries, and told them Slade needed them at the gate in twenty.

Didn't tell them that we were the only ones going.

They appeared unimpressed with the choice of me as messenger, but I ignored them. Instead, my mind focused on one question—why had Slade agreed to this?

Concussions were weird things, and they could permanently damage the brain, but still…

Forty minutes later, I wasn't the only one to notice there was something wrong with Slade. As we traveled to the gate, and then into the alleys of our target realm, the mercs with us kept offering him nervous, sideways glances.

Were they assessing him for weaknesses, or just edgy like I was? In this organization, obvious vulnerabilities were like blood in a shark-infested ocean.

Fucking hell. Instead of moving away from him, I found myself striding closer. Was I considering sticking up for him? Slade was a ruthless bastard and not worthy of my protection. I'd always wanted to move up in the hierarchy, though, and this could be my opportunity.

Except, of course, that his father had apparently suggested I come along. So I might be on the hit list as well. Perhaps I should be using this mission to vacate. To find something else, somewhere safer.

I debated with myself as we skulked through the streets. The target merchant lived in a realm considerably drier than our current home. The night air had a bite to it that made me grateful to have a cloak.

I fervently hoped that Slade was on the ball. That this merchant was so weak that ten mercs would have him shaking in whatever he used for footwear. Otherwise, neither Slade nor I might be walking away from this one.

The target compound was at the far side of town. At the end of a street, with ten-foot stone walls around it.

Slade paused, and we gathered around him. He gestured to the mercs. "Fan out, surround the complex. Tez and I will be going in for a chat, fucking with the merchant."

Once we figured out what he meant, we all stared at him, and I think my mouth actually gaped. I know a few others did. We didn't need to be surrounding the place—we needed to go in, fast and brutal, to make a point.

He was, however, the boss. So I rolled with it as best I could. I pointed to four of the mercs. "Go high—he's bound to have sentries up there. Silence them."

"We do not need to kill them," Slade said quickly. "Just tie them up."

"That will take longer. We didn't come equipped for hostages," I pointed out. "If this guy comes away without damage, he's not as likely to listen when we ‘chat'."

"Knock them out, then," Slade insisted.

He'd definitely lost his marbles. I turned to the mercs. "Do what you have to do. Just keep them off our backs."

As the four departed in a hurry, therefore avoiding any further craziness, Slade snarled at me. "That is not what I ordered."

The other mercs went very still, their eyes guarded as they darted from him to me. Waiting for the challenge that would constitute a change in leadership. Years of Slade being their boss could vaporize in an instant—they were only loyal if he was strong enough to lead them.

I faced him and saw anger in his eyes, but he should have shredded me for disobeying him, and he didn't. What looked out at me was not the Slade I knew.

"Spread out," I told the others. "Slade and I will go in."

They moved off, but slowly, reluctant to leave without knowing the final score. Once they'd vanished, I turned to my boss.

"What the hell, Slade?" I demanded.

"What is the problem?" he asked, but his blue eyes were wary now.

"This is not our typical gig." I groped for the right words.

"Does it have to be?"

"This guy is not going to let us in for a damned chat," I said.

"I think that is a very reasonable request." He turned away from me and stalked up the alley.

That action alone spoke volumes. To turn his back on me, when I was challenging him—the Slade I knew would never have done that.

Before I could follow, Nemi trilled a high-pitched warning. Something fell from above, to land with a sodden "thunk" on the cobblestones.

A body. Not just a body. One of our mercs.

Slade spun and froze.

Fuck. I acted without thinking, lunging for him, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him toward an alcove.

Crossbow bolts rained down where he'd been standing. Enough of them, and from so many directions, that it screamed "TRAP" in every language I knew.

"We need the others," Slade panted, peering out.

I yanked him back, and a bolt shattered against the stone where his head had been.

"The others are already dead," I hissed at him. "Victor didn't want anyone coming back from this."

"But my father?—"

"Victor's the one who sent us with only ten," I snapped. "Wake up, or we're not getting out of this alive."

He stiffened. "I am awake."

"Then act it. We need your beast. Now."

As he stared back at me, the thing inside me stirred, and lifted its head.

Fuck. I had a knife in each hand, but to use them, I needed to be mobile—they were no good to me while we were pinned down in this alcove. I turned to the door behind us, sheathed the knives, and pulled out my lock picks.

Seconds later, we were inside the building. The large room beyond, lined with rows of crates, was clearly for shipping and receiving.

I shut the door behind us and locked it, then pocketed my picks. We had seconds, maybe, before we were followed.

I turned back to Slade, to see that he hadn't sprouted any more fur than he had already.

"We need you furred," I insisted. "NOW!" I shouted the last word.

"I'M NOT SURE I CAN," Slade shouted back.

I made a grab for my sanity. "Why. The. Fuck. Not?"

In the stillness that followed, I heard the scrape of metal on metal. They were coming in.

He'd heard it too. His jaw clenched, and then he said, "Because I don't have full control over this body yet." His blue eyes gleamed at me. And then, flashed.

Ice flooded through me, but I grabbed his arm and towed him through the crates, searching for the inner door I knew had to be there. My mind spun. But I remembered Slade's bloodied body lying on the ground—within reach of Bree's chain.

Bree. Who had multiple entities living inside of her.

No fucking way. Could those things jump to another body? That would explain much.

The interior door was a heavy wooden one, and it stood partly ajar. As I approached it, I was sure I heard a heavy sniff and the faint scrabble of claw against wood.

We may not have brought Dragons, but they'd sent Dires.

My skin rippled as with a surge of pain, the thing deep within me pushed for release. I recognized it—the same thing had happened the day my grandmother had died. And much as I wished to deny its existence, I had little doubt that the Feathered Serpent wanted out. When I ran a hand through my hair, something fell free and clicked as it hit the ground.

Dammit. Instead of giving in to it, I yanked Slade behind a pile of crates. We needed his beast, or we weren't getting out of here. "Who the hell are you?" I whispered to him.

He blinked vivid-blue eyes at me. And then, once again, they flashed.

Flashed. Was he speaking to someone in his head? The logistics of it boggled my mind.

"You came from Bree, didn't you?" I hissed.

He sighed. "Yes. My name is Caliel."

Great. Just great. I so hated to be right. "And Slade?"

"He has departed."

Well, he'd been a ruthless bastard, and I wasn't going to mourn his loss. Except that, at the moment, we needed him.

"Are you sure you can't shift?" I asked.

"I am still having issues with walking," he admitted.

This all would have been useful information before we started this mission. "Can you at least sprout your claws? Those are Dires. My knives will only annoy them."

He went very still. "I am a healer. Not a killer."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. We were fucked .

I grabbed Caliel by the cloak and shoved my face into his. "We need your beast," I snarled. "NOW!"

His eyes widened, but I saw them flare sapphire. Dammit, his beast was in there. I could feel it. Or feel something, anyway. Almost like I knew where Nemi was, without looking for her.

Weirdly, the whisper of feathers shimmered through my mind. And his body beneath the cloak seemed to writhe—the bones of his face moved, and he gasped.

Nemi trilled and took off from my shoulder in a blur of wings. The interior door slammed open, and panting fanged and clawed forms streamed through it.

The hummingbird flew straight at them.

Caliel dropped like a stone as I released him. NO! My fear for her immediately transformed into rage, and this time, I didn't try to stop the monster from emerging. It came with a rush, and suddenly I was looking down from near the ceiling.

The Dires skidded to a halt and stared up at me, their golden eyes wide.

And then, my jaws opened. The shriek that came from me could hardly be heard, but they were Dires—their lips pulled back from their teeth.

When their ears started to bleed, they scrambled to get back out the door. I would have let them go—but the monster, once unleashed, was not so easily satisfied.

Moments later, they lay in bloodied heaps on the ground as I struggled to put the beast back where it belonged. When I looked down at myself, my body was elongated, snakelike. My hands and feet ended in wicked talons, and a long, whippy tail thrashed behind me. My skin was covered in metallic feathers that had sliced the clothes clear off me.

Tezcacoatl. Feathered Serpent.

Fuck.

Something touched my ankle—I spun to see Caliel. His face had returned to its human state, but blood trailed slowly from his ears and nose. He'd not been in the full burst of my shriek, but he'd still sustained damage.

He wrapped his hand around my ankle, and soothing warmth flooded from it into me. It offered strength when I needed it most. I seized hold of it, and together, we pushed the Serpent back where it belonged.

At some point in the process, I collapsed beside him. Naked and shivering, I met his blue gaze.

"Thank you," I said, and I meant it.

One corner of his lips twitched upward. "It seems we both have secrets," he said.

Secrets. I pushed myself to my feet, and surveyed the bodies and the metallic feathers all over the floor.

Nemi hovered in my face, chirping at me. I'd just sent a clarion call to the bloody Priesthood.

Caliel rose and offered his cloak to me—he had a full set of clothes on beneath. I yanked it over my head.

"I've got to go," I said, my heart pounding.

" We have got to go," he corrected.

I shook my head. "You need to get as far away from me as you can. Get Bree the hell out of there before Victor does something awful to her."

His blue eyes measured me. "You care about her," he said. It was not quite a question.

"Yes, dammit. But it doesn't matter." My frustration mounted because he didn't seem to be getting the urgency. "You need to get out too."

He shrugged. "I cannot."

My fingers curled into fists. "Whyever not?"

"Because I am in this body for a reason. And I have yet to accomplish my goal." His eyes flashed, and his lips pulled back from his teeth. "Bree says I can trust you." He looked down at the feathers on the floor. "I suppose we are going to have to trust each other."

I waited. He knew my secret. I knew his. Or at least, part of it…

"I need proof," Caliel said, "that the new Dragon Emperor is colluding with the underworld."

My mouth fell open. Fuck. Talk about an impossible task. "Well, good luck with that. I have to run . The Priesthood is going to be coming after me, and they won't waste any time doing it."

"The Gretik Priesthood?" Caliel's eyes widened. "The tales are true? They enslave your kind?"

I stared at him. "What do you know of my kind?"

He shrugged. "I've seen pictures. Information in books. That's all."

It was more than I'd found in the texts in the academy's library. "I have to go," I said. "They can track me, after that thing inside me emerges."

He wasn't looking at me. He was examining the floor. Which was littered with metallic feathers.

"How do they track you?" he asked.

"They can tell when I shift, using some kind of crystal."

"They track you? Or the feathers?" he asked. "The feathers have a residual energy. I can feel it."

"Me, if I am close enough. But the feathers bring them in."

Caliel's eyes gleamed sapphire. "If we want to get Bree out of there—we need a distraction."

I stared at him, my mind racing.

He grinned. "And I think we have just found it."