35. Chapter 35

35

R ebecca’s head pounded, her ears rang with noise she might or might not have been hallucinating, and she tightened her grip around the leather chair’s armrests, her fingers digging into the wood and leaving deep, grooved divots.

Better to destroy the furniture like this than to act on the single constant urge gnawing at her for the last several hours to punch someone in the face and run.

Now, her mind reeled like the center of a deadly storm beneath the constant onslaught of official visits from Shade’s members, their individual requests of her, and everybody’s personal vows sworn to her as the organization’s new commander.

Most operatives simply made an appearance for the sake of tradition and ritual. They came in to shake Rebecca’s hand, to tell her they were glad to see her on her feet again, to make sure she heard it from their own lips that they had specifically voted for her during the huur-akíl.

That, after seeing what she’d done and how she’d handled the situation in the garage, they had no doubt in their minds Rebecca really was Shade’s best option.

Those on her most frequent mission team—Leonard, Diego, Nyx, and even Titus—all made an appearance as well. Each of them gave her a version of essentially the same thing: that they always knew Shade’s single elf had something amazing up her sleeve to offer the rest of them.

And everyone who came to see her in this incredibly outdated ceremony that felt so out of place on Earth made sure to, in one way or another, officially swear their fealty to their new Elven commander.

With each new face that appeared through that office door, the pit of guilt and blooming embarrassment at the giant misunderstanding— and the giant lie she was still living inside this organization—only grew. Every minute, Rebecca felt worse and worse about the whole thing.

Several times throughout the process, she also felt the effects of Zida’s mystery adrenaline cocktail ebb and surge again when she least expected it. Though fortunately, for now, her last dose seemed to hold for the duration of this ritualistic meet-and-greet, which was entirely unnecessary.

Rebecca had already met every member of Shade, but clearly, that was beside the point.

All the faces and names, the congratulatory handshakes, the smiles and encouraging comments toward the task force’s bright future blended together in her mind. Rebecca smiled and nodded through it all.

Yes, this was exactly the kind of thing she’d been avoiding back home since the day she’d left. And now, through no fault of her own, she’d been forced into the same stupid, useless formalities simply by falling into command of a privatized magical task force now ready and willing to hop into action at the slightest word from her .

Most other people probably would have jumped at the opportunity to sit in this chair, however grotesque the green leather upholstery.

Rebecca hated it.

The next supplicant to step through the office door, however, caught her attention more than any other before he’d even fully closed the door again behind him.

Because his presence was the only one that brought that odd warm, tingling energy racing up and down her body— inside her body—as he drew closer.

The same energy that had convinced her she’d been closer to death than ever when he’d caught her from bashing her face in against the garage’s concrete floor.

Why did she feel it now ?

And why had Maxwell decided to take part in such an archaic ceremony like the kibrál when he clearly hated her guts?

The second Rebecca whipped her head up to look at him, taken off guard by his arrival, Maxwell had already crossed the office toward her armchair.

The giant cardboard box in his arms dropped to the floor directly in front of her bare feet, and a plume of dust rose with the echoing thump of that box hitting the old floorboards.

Only now did it occur to her that bare feet was a terrible choice of footwear for receiving her “new subjects”, no matter how excited or unimpressed they were by her new position.

Maxwell definitely wasn’t impressed. At least he didn’t comment on her lack of shoes .

Rebecca stared at the box for a moment, then smirked up at the scowling shifter in front of her.

“I gotta say, Max, I’m surprised you decided to show up at all for this.”

“Protocol.” His blank expression never changed, and his voice had once more fallen into its flat monotone she’d heard him use with Aldous only too many times.

“Well, it’s good to see protocol’s still being followed,” she said with a mocking pout. “Even when you’re clearly unhappy with it.”

“I’m doing my job. And I’m here to request official orders from command as to what to do with these .” For emphasis, Maxwell brusquely nudged the side of the box with the toe of his boot, scooting it closer to Rebecca’s chair.

Rebecca almost asked if he’d brought her a present.

The second she looked down into that open box, though, she realized what a stupid question that was.

Unless Maxwell was more like a cat than a canine and had come bearing gifts of his victim’s body parts.

Something told her this was also far more out of protocol than for her personally.

The box was filled to the brim with the all-black, glistening flesh of so many destroyed homunculus parts, which might have had a more visceral effect if there had been the same amount of blood as one might expect from a similarly dismembered corpse. If, of course, that corpse had been alive .

She recognized the homunculus parts first, then noticed something else mixed into the box along with all that glistening black not-flesh.

Frowning, Rebecca leaned forward to get a better look.

The oddly shiny, round surface of a strangely circular shape wasn’t all that foreign to her, either.

It was Hector’s head.

Had Maxwell been preserving this just for her, thinking it would make her think twice about maintaining her new position? Or was he trying to send a message.

She would have asked until she caught sight of that strange, dark, circular mark on the top of Hector’s bald head.

The mark she’d first seen in the garage right after Maxwell had put him down and the nurúzhe’s hood fell back for the very first time to expose his face.

She’d written it off as some kind of tattoo then, but now that she was looking at the guy up close, she realized just how mistaken she’d been.

It wasn’t a tattoo at all. It was the same branded mark of a the Azyyt Ra’al thrall, just like the one she’d seen on the Cruorcian thug in that back alley on her last night off .

The kind of mark that only appeared in death.

The kind of proof—and now an unwanted reminder—that the Azyyt Ra’al had established some type of presence right here in Chicago.

Hector had clearly been one of their thralls, but there was no telling whether that had been because of Rebecca’s presence inside Shade or merely a coincidence.

Had Hector known who she was all along?

Had he created the homunculi to attack the compound on the Azyyt Ra’al’s orders, because they suspected Rebecca Bloodshadow was in Chicago too?

When Maxwell cleared his throat, the sound ripped Rebecca back into the present.

Right. He was here to swear his fealty to his new commander, and he wanted to know what to do with a bunch of homunculus parts and the body of the nurúzhe he’d taken out with his own hands. Literally.

Rebecca looked up at the shifter again, wondering if she should mention anything about the mark or her suspicions that this wasn’t simply a coincidence, but immediately wiped that thought from her mind.

Maxwell Hannigan might have been Aldous’s righthand man, personal bodyguard, and advisor, confidant, or whatever else, but that was just another luxury Rebecca simply couldn’t afford as commander.

Not when Maxwell already suspected her of…whatever he expected her of, though suspicion in and of itself wasn’t enough of a threat.

“I’m sorry,” she said, flashing him a quick smile before gesturing toward the box. “Are you bringing me offerings now?”

“I’m asking my Roth-Da’al what to do with these,” he growled, his silver eyes brightening as he glared down at her.

His Roth-Da’al.

No, she didn’t particularly enjoy the devious, warning look he gave her now, but maybe she could get used to hearing him call her Roth-Da’al directly.

She sat back in the chair again and fought against yet another wave of fatigue washing over her as the relatively short-lived effects of Zida’s special medicine completed another cycle toward wearing off.

“If we’re following the old laws for who to put in this chair,” she said, “we might as well keep following the old laws for everything else. So you can dispose of Hector’s body and his creations however you want. It’s your kill.”

“Fine,” he said tersely but didn’t move to pick up the box again.

There was something else he wanted from her, but the shifter was clearly hesitant to ask or even bring it up.

This was fun—Maxwell needing her now without being able to order her around .

“Was there something else on your mind?” she asked with a smirk.

He snorted and looked like it physically pained him to meet her gaze before he managed to reply. “You’re the one who took these other things down. I thought you might have some alternate suggestions for how to handle a body like this.”

“It is a body,” Rebecca said. “I assume you know what to do with those.”

“Not when they don’t decompose like a regular corpse. They’re all just…here. Like this.”

Then the oddity of the situation fully hit her—and the surprise Maxwell must have felt to discover that Hector’s body, the body of a magical who had once been living and no longer was, acted more like the leftover husks of his crafted automatons than a true organic body.

Hector should have started to decompose by now. Like his homunculi, though, his remains didn’t even exude the natural scent of death.

In fact, there was no smell at all.

Rebecca stared at the box of remains. “Huh. That is an interesting problem to have, but no, actually. I have no idea what to do with body parts that don’t fall apart the way they’re supposed to. Sorry.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was about to start laughing at her.

For the first time, she realized she didn’t remember seeing him smile even once. Did he even know how?

“Very well. As you command.” He stooped to grab the edges of the box before Rebecca remembered not every body was accounted for inside this oddly gift-wrapped offering.

“I guess it’s only fair I take care of mine too,” she said. “Where’s Aldous’s body?”

Maxwell’s gaze flickered up to meet hers as he stooped over the box of conjured parts. For a moment, he almost looked embarrassed and couldn’t hold her gaze for longer than a few seconds.

This just kept getting more and more interesting, didn’t it?

Then he fully stood, hefting the box along with him, and cleared his throat. “Aldous has already been taken care of.”

“Oh look at that. You take down one narcissistic leader in self-defense, and everyone starts doing all the work for you.”

It was meant as a joke, but clearly, Maxwell didn’t share her humor.

His frown pinched in darkening disapproval.

No, she really hadn’t expected him to find it funny at all, which just made this interaction that much more entertaining.

“Any particular reason he wasn’t saved for me to handle on my own once Zida let me loose?” she asked .

Tucking the box under his arm, Maxwell fixed her with a deadpan stare. “Summertime in Chicago. Can’t exactly leave a body down in the open parking garage. And as far as I know, we don’t have a freezer big enough to hold onto him until you’re ready to start pulling your weight.”

“Not if Bor’s freezer is anything like his walk-in fridge,” Rebecca muttered.

His eyebrows flickered together in the first expression of true confusion she’d seen on him yet. “What?”

“Never mind.” Rebecca shook her head. “Whoever took care of it for me, pass along my appreciation, will you?”

Maxwell’s scowl returned, his silver eyes flashing again before he dipped into a surprisingly low bow for such a large, heavy box tucked under his arm. Then he sneered at her as if he meant to attack her the next second. “As my glorious Roth-Da’al commands.”

If she’d been any closer to him, Rebecca was sure she would have found herself dripping with all the extra sarcasm spewing from the shifter’s mouth.

Normally, she greatly appreciated sarcasm in others who knew how to use it to its most debilitating and obnoxious effect. Right now, though, coming from him, after everything that had just happened…

She really didn’t like it.

“You know what?” she snapped without thinking. “Aldous might’ve demanded that kinda thing from you. All this…overindulgent fealty. But in case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m not him.”

Maxwell straightened fully, still staring at her.

He took so long to reply, she thought she might have finally stumped him.

Did he really still think, even after her last few days in the infirmary, that Aldous’s overthrow, his death, and Rebecca’s subsequent assent to the position of Shade’s commander had all been part of some secret plan of hers?

Was this what jealousy looked like on her Head of Security?

If he was so intent on taking his job seriously, Maxwell wouldn’t dare lift a finger against her now. Not while she held this position.

Maybe if she pushed him hard enough, he might snap and tip his hand.

Instead, though, he ignored everything she’d just told him, masking all his thoughts and emotions with another unreadable blankness across his features.

That only made her want to get a reaction out of him that much more—something, anything would be better than this.

“Is there anything else you require of me, Roth-Da’al?” he hissed.

Rebecca shifted sideways in the armchair and propped an elbow on the armrest to run her fingers along the underside of her chin, taunting him in any way she could. “Just the appropriate show of respect toward your superiors. ”

The echoing thump of the box in his arms smacking back down to the floor almost made her jump.

But then Maxwell surged toward her, his scowl deepening and his silver eyes flashing that alluring light of theirs. He stopped right in front of Rebecca’s chair, incredibly close, and bent over to level his face with hers as he snarled again. “Just to make this perfectly clear between us, I didn’t vote for you.”

Rebecca wanted to laugh in his face, but that dark surge erupting between them, the pull toward this damn shifter she couldn’t seem to resist or turn off, only allowed her a smirk instead. “Any particular reason for that?”

“You haven’t been around nearly long enough to warrant the kind of confidence everyone else has in you, elf. And most people show their true colors in a place like this after the first few weeks. A month, tops. I made it clear there were better options, but that seems to be a radical opinion lately.”

That was the most he’d said to her since she’d joined Shade.

Now that he was being so candidly honest and forthright, while they both knew he could no longer act against her now that the task force had made her his new boss, this whole thing was just perfectly amusing now.

Plus, she really liked how close he’d leaned in in his attempts to intimidate her—the new details she could make out now within the glow of his silver eyes; the twitching muscles in his jaw; the way he pursed his lips, as if he were trying not to break into a smile, though that would have been quite the surprise.

“Better options, huh?” she replied, then realized she was staring at his lips and forced her gaze away to look him in the eye. “You mean like you , Wolfie?”

Maxwell loomed even closer and growled deep in his throat—the kind of growl that hinted at more animal than man. “Right now, there’s nothing for me at the top of anything. I don’t want that seat. I don’t envy you for sitting in it. You haven’t earned it yet. But the huur-akíl is the huur-akíl.”

In that moment, as he leaned down toward her, their faces so close in his attempt to take her self-confidence down a peg, Rebecca found herself recognizing something in the shifter that she’d seen before so many times in herself.

The steadfastness. The willingness to do whatever it took to achieve a goal. The loneliness.

She almost felt sorry for him. What must a militant shifter like Maxwell Hannigan have had to do to be cast out of his pack? To be exiled with no possibility of return? To make him devote his life to an organization like Shade, which was probably as close to a pack as he was likely to get now?

It must have been something unspeakably terrible.

No wonder he had trust issues .

Rebecca recognized that too.

She wanted to brush him off, but seeing that loneliness in him made her change her mind. If only just as Shade’s new leader and his new superior for however long he was willing to put up with it.

Because now she could give him a choice.

“Listen, Hannigan,” she said, studying his gaze and dropping all pretense, if only for a moment. “I honestly had no idea this was how things would play out. I don’t want this gig any more than you do, trust me, and I really don’t want to force anyone to stick around if that’s the last thing they want. I’m not—”

“Aldous,” he interrupted before his gaze dropped to her lips and stayed there a moment too long. “I know. That’s very clear.”

Wait a minute, was he trying to come on to her now?

Would he keep trying if she dismissed him from his duties, or was he only interested in her as his superior now?

She had to test it out.

“I can find a different Head of Security,” she offered.

His eyes widened, then he blinked as if she’d just startled him with the most unbelievable announcement imaginable.

Maybe he didn’t even think being released from his duty was possible. Maybe that was exactly what the shifter needed.

“That is,” she added with a tilt of her head, “if you—”

Maxwell surged forward, closing the rest of the distance between them, and slammed both hands down on the armrests of her disgusting new green-leather throne.

Rebecca leaned all the way back against the cushions just to reclaim a little more personal space, trying not to look surprised by such a bold move.

And also trying not to let it show that a certain undeniable flare of electricity leapt inside her at his closeness and his face thrust right up in front of hers.

The wildness within him calling to her in a way she couldn’t define, because of course he was wild. The guy had a wolf inside him. Literally.

She almost expected him to start smelling her again like when he’d cornered her in the alley—the way she hadn’t thought she wanted him to again until literally right now when the memory rushed back to her.

Now her whole body tingled at the thought of exactly what the shifter might try to do to her, his complete lack of personal boundaries now perfectly clear.

And why the hell was she thinking about any of this?

She had to push it from her mind. Getting close to anyone was dangerous. Getting close to anyone who clearly didn’t like or trust her as much as Maxwell didn’t like or trust her was even worse .

“I take my job very seriously, elf,” he growled, holding her gaze while his silver eyes pulsed with internal light. “It’s the only thing that gives me purpose without taking more from me than I can afford to give. And I’ll keep my job, thank you very much.”

Rebecca tried to scoff, but it came out airy and a little shaky.

By the Blood, she was acting like a damn child freshly entered into her training.

“Well…” She cleared her throat. “I’m glad we can get that out of the way.”

“My allegiance is to Shade itself,” he continued, as if she hadn’t said a thing. “Not a single leader. The magicals here don’t have other options at this point, like past lives they can return to whenever they want. My job is to keep these magicals safe, no matter what it takes, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Recovering a bit more of her senses now that it seemed Maxwell actually meant to act on his threatening posturing—just to make her squirm in this armchair—Rebecca loosened a little and flashed him a tight smile.

Ancestors, he was still so close .

“I gotta say, Maxie, I admire your dedication.”

His upper lip twitched to expose his teeth beneath a snarl. Narrowing his eyes, Maxwell tilted his head and looked her up and down as much as possible with maybe two inches between them.

“But you should know this and keep it running in the back of your mind,” he murmured. “There’s really only one thing I want from you, and I will get it, one way or another.”