Part 27 (1/2)

”Great, so we'll have to do this the hard way,” she muttered, stepping closer and placing her hands on one chain.

Nothing happened. Or maybe he blacked out again. Either way when he stirred himself and looked over at her there were tears tracking down her cheeks. Alex never cried. Never.

”What happened?” he growled, his wolf near the surface, willing to fight whoever put the grief he saw in her eyes.

”Nothing,” she mouthed more than said the word, shaking her head. ”I can't do it. I don't know any magic to break the binds. Nothing that I can do here. Now.”

He found himself relaxing, knowing the frustration only too well. ”Doesn't matter.”

”Of course it matters.” There was more power in her words now, her hands clenched as if she wanted to punch someone, just didn't know who. ”We've got to get you out of here. Time is running out. I don't know how long the spell will last.”

He shook his head. ”You've got to go.”

She turned away from him, walking the perimeter of the cell as if looking for a weakness. Against the far bars she stumbled across the corpse and started gagging. With her sleeve over her mouth she managed to ask, ”What . . . who . . .”

”Jailor.” He licked his lips and tried for more. ”Power broker got p.i.s.sed.”

She stumbled away from the body, not removing her arm from her face until she drew near to Van again. ”I can't believe I didn't smell him earlier.” With a shudder, she shook herself and stood close so her words wouldn't carry. ”Tell me about the park. Who were you with? Why'd you s.h.i.+ft in public?”

Her words. .h.i.t like body blows. Vague images danced just outside his thoughts. The more he strained to remember, the faster they tangoed. All he had to offer was a stuttered shaking of his head. Then one image slammed against him. ”Dad?”

Her expression tightened as if she'd sucked on a lemon.

”Did I . . . did I kill . . .” His thoughts jarred with his questions. No way. No way would he ever fight his father.

”You didn't kill him,” she said, each word a nail against his heart.

”Why?”

She knew what he meant. Not why didn't he kill his beloved father but why would he even consider fighting him.

”Long story.” She scrubbed a hand over her face, her voice low and tense. ”They're drugging you. Making you do things against your will.”

”No.” He shook his head, the movement becoming stronger and stronger as he fought what she was telling him. ”No.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders, calming him by touch as she whipped him with each word she uttered, ”You have no choice. That's the way the drug works. Then it wipes your memory.”

It made no sense. Nothing tracked, not to his human half, not to his wolf self. ”Kill me now,” he whispered, aware this might be his only chance. If what she said was true, he wouldn't risk more lives.

That's what he'd remember, the pus.h.i.+ng thought that had escaped him before. ”Again,” the word trailed off.

She stepped closer, cupping his chin in as light a touch as possible, one that still burned through him. ”They're going to use you again? Is that what you're telling me?'

”Tomorrow.” Isn't that what they'd said. With a half turn he looked at the moonlight peeking through the slit in the wall. ”Today. Don't know. Soon.”

”Oh, Van. I won't let that happen.”

Hope flared then died within the same breath. Whoever these people were they would not be stopped just because Alex wanted them to stop.

”Can you give me anything?” she asked, laying her forehead against his chest. ”Any hint of who or what they are?”

There was one thing. Not that it'd do her any good. ”Were . . .”

”Where is something?”

He shook his head, then heard the sound he'd feared. Adrenaline coursed through him, helping him fight the lethargy, the pain making thought and words so difficult. ”Go. Now.” He pulled forward on the chair, masking his words to her with the rattle of his chains. ”Were. Find the Were.”

She looked at the silver binding him, knowing she couldn't have him s.h.i.+ft into his wolf self with so much silver surrounding him. Then she froze, hearing at last what he'd already heard, the squeak and shuffle of the far door opening and some one coming.

She kept her head, but he expected no less from a Noziak. He could scent her fear as she glanced around the small s.p.a.ce. Nowhere to hide. No way out.

Inhaling a deep breath, she kissed his cheek then retreated to the far corner, one obscured by shadows. He hated to point out that she was still visible and would be the minute whoever was swinging a flashlight turned the illumination on her as he came down the hall.

He started to growl and rattle his chains, no matter his throat was raked raw, his skin bleeding enough he caught the scent of fresh blood. He hoped to keep the focus of whoever was coming on him, only him.

With his s.h.i.+fter hearing he could hear Alex's whispers above his sounds.

Betwixt and between. Guide and protect.

Betwixt and between. s.h.i.+eld thine in this darkest hour.

Betwixt and between. Command the seen to beunseen.

Enchant those eyes who seek harm.

So mote it be.

This was his sister, who rarely even played with her magic. What the h.e.l.l did she think she was going to accomplish now?

Whoever was coming was drawing nearer.

Now they'd both die.

CHAPTER 53.

Jeb turned off Philippe's computer, rubbing tired eyes as he looked at the stack of printouts next to his monitor. He might be a Rez rat from Idaho but even he knew how to find a wealth of information via the Internet. He'd been searching for the last three hours to compile anything and everything he could on this Bran, the warlock.

Even as exhausted as he was he was still impressed. If he didn't know the dress designer was a warlock, he might have bought into the rags-to-riches story of a kid from wealth, but more as a p.a.w.n between the two egos who'd birthed him, who clawed his way to the top of a small but very compet.i.tive industry.

But Jeb did know warlocks, knew how they thought and how they loved playing the game, no matter who they screwed over in the process. How Alex got herself involved with this mage was out of Jeb's ken, but he did know that he'd move anything in the physical or spiritual realm to make sure his little girl wasn't going to get hurt.

”Late night,” Pdraig spoke from the doorway leading into Philippe's study.

Jeb hadn't even realized the young man was still awake. He was thankful Pdraig had asked to remain at Philippe's home as that gave Jeb permission to remain too. The more he learned about the intrigues swirling around Philippe and the Council the more he suspected there would be answers here, in this place.