Cool Hand (27 page)

Everything felt disconnected, like I’d walked into a movie halfway through and couldn’t quite follow what was happening. I could put Fuller out of my mind. I hadn’t had to kill him and I wasn’t going to shed any tears for him. In a strange way, I was more concerned about Rita. There was something almost broken about her.

On the surface, Fuller had managed to scratch her face and blood was trickling down her cheek.

I put my gun back on the table and took Fuller’s shirt. I got the bottle of buffalo piss from the side and soaked it in the liquor.

“Let me clean your face,” I said, kneeling in front of her.

“Thanks.” Her voice was quiet. She watched me silently, all the blazing intensity gone from those green eyes, which still flickered unsettlingly between human and cougar. I wiped the blood from her face. Some of the arterial spray had gone over her shoulders and neck, but the brandy cleaned it easily away.

“You want me to help heal that?” I asked, pointing at her wound, which was still bleeding. Her face was about to get bloody again.

Her eyes went over my shoulder to Zane before she nodded. “Please.”

I pulled her head forward, tasting the unripe berry flavors of aniatropics in my mouth.

This had better gain me goodwill from the Albuquerque pack.

I closed my eyes and licked the wound. I was afraid that the taste of Blood would set the Were or Athanate off, or my face was going to scrunch up in revulsion, but it didn’t feel odd at all.

On the other hand, my jaws began to throb lightly, and I finished up as quickly as I could.

“Thanks,” she said again. The wound had stopped bleeding.

Zane brought her clothes from the other side of the table and I helped her away from the spreading pool of blood. She still seemed a little dazed, willing to let me dress her. I had the feeling that if I stopped dressing her, she would just stand there until this blankness passed.

I pulled her pants up, easing them over her hips. The zipper caught. I had to slip my hand in against her taut belly to free it.

She made a little sound in the back of her throat.

Damn.

It was too warm and my jaws began to pulse again.

I’d been pushing out the Athanate sex pheromones all evening. Now I was wondering what Were-cougar Blood
tasted like.

Stop. Don’t piss away any goodwill by biting one of Zane’s lieutenants.

I helped her into her shirt and we did the buttons up together.

Her face was losing its strange blankness. The eyes finally turned human again and stayed that way.

That close to her, I got another shock. Just visible on her neck were fading Athanate bite marks.

I couldn’t help it. I leaned forward and sniffed.

Unlike Haz, Rita didn’t mind at all.

It wasn’t recent. I didn’t think she was kin, but from the slightest trace I thought I could detect Romero.

What had Zane called the situation down here? A clusterfuck. That just about summed it up. The Were in New Mexico were united into some kind of a super-pack. That group having a deal with House Romero which might have included one of Zane’s lieutenants being a bite babe for some Athanate. And then a betrayal. Deaths on both sides. An understandable suspicion of other Athanate.

The only thing left to wonder was, where did that leave me?

A couple of the Trolls came in. Working silently, they wrapped Fuller’s body in a plastic sheet with a practiced familiarity and took it out.

Zane paused in his task of picking up the scattered bills, and his fingers flicked a message at Rita.

“I hope we meet again,” she murmured to me, and walked out.

The bills neatly sorted into piles of bloody and clean, Zane frowned as he ran his hand over rips that Rita’s claws had made in the baize of the tabletop.

“So,
Amber.
” His voice pressed down on his first use of my name. “You’re asking for kin’s lives and Athanate information and a free pass out of my territory. What else? Romero heads?”

I shivered. He might mean that literally.

“Just what I came for.”

“Not interested in what’s been happening down here generally?”

Diana. Savannah. Claude. Me. Take it and go.

“Of course I am, but I’m worried that I’m running out of time.”

“You might be right about that,” he said, and I shivered again. I’d meant Diana was running out of time. I wasn’t sure what he’d meant.

Still, the HK was back in my holster, slung over the chair. Half a second away.

He waved me back to my seat and we sat down again, facing each other across the damaged table.

“What kind of people are you in Denver?” He tilted his head to one side, crazy eyes roving over my body again. “If this Athanate information you want is something we got from that Romero woman, does that offend your delicate sensibilities?”

I took a steadying breath.

Concentrate. Ignore everything else. Don’t set him off.

“I can’t afford to let it. But we’re not like Basilikos. We’re Panethus—”

“That’s what the Romero Diakon said, too,” Zane interrupted me. “In fact, to listen to Charles Romero, they are the true soul of Panethus, and Altau is just a power-hungry bastard who’s to blame for endangering all of us with his scheme for Emergence. A scheme that profoundly affects the Were, and yet which we haven’t been asked about. Not that we haven’t learned over time that Athanate aren’t willing to share.”

“I understand. I do. And I believe things are changing. And Skylur isn’t a power-hungry—”

“Really? Claiming all of North America as his domain doesn’t show a taste for it?” He leaned forward angrily. “What are we getting into, without so much as a vote?”

“Shut up and listen to me,” I snapped. “If there was a body that represented the Were, Skylur would probably talk to it. In the meantime, it’s not a matter of deciding to reveal ourselves to humans or not, it’s a matter of controlling the reaction when they do—”

The doors banged opened and Haz came in, carrying a bundle of clothes which she dumped on the table.

She glared at me and left, slamming the doors again behind her.

“If you want to discuss this in depth,” I said more quietly, “you need to talk to Skylur or his Diakon. I can arrange that.”

He grunted and leaned all the way back in his chair.

Something subtle changed in his face.

“Your colleague, Diana Ionache, came to Albuquerque and met with Charles Romero and his Albuquerque Diakon, Jiaro Amaral,” he said. “She was very confident, and very foolish. She’s now a prisoner.”

Relief and alarm clashed with each other in my head.

Relief that Zane had made some kind of positive decision about me, and alarm that Diana was in danger.

And how was she taken prisoner?
Diana was one of the most powerful of Athanate, and the most respected.

“House Romero, as you will already realize, has broken away from any association with Altau. Not to join Basilikos, but to form a new, pure Panethus.” His mouth twisted. “Unfortunately, there’s trouble already.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“Charles Romero actually believes that bullshit about saving Panethus. Amaral doesn’t, whatever he says. He’s been making deals behind Romero’s back: with Matlal’s Diakon, Vega Martine, the Taos Adepts and the Warders. Who knows who else.”

A cold anger formed in my chest. Amaral would have been the one to betray Larry, handing him over to Vega Martine to compel, and causing his eventual death. And Amaral would have been responsible for the Warders hunting and killing Larry’s kin, on the chance that they knew anything about what had happened to Larry.

Amaral was a dead man.

“We tried to warn Romero, and Amaral sprang a trap to divert us,” Zane went on. “Bode’s cousin and our healer were guarding some new Were. They were lured to a farm by the Romero woman we killed. All of them were slaughtered.”

His fists flexed unconsciously.

“You know what Amaral tried to claim?” he said. “That Rita had gone berserk. That she was responsible for the recent disappearances from House Romero. People like your friend, Larry Dixon.”

The alpha’s dominance was whipped up into a storm by his anger and it lashed out over me.

I bowed my head. This wasn’t aimed at me.

Behind me, the door opened briefly and was closed again. Haz checking everything was okay; his own pack were worried about the alpha’s state of mind.

Zane ran a hand across his face.

“Charles Romero was suspicious. He left town earlier with some of the remaining Albuquerque Athanate, and your colleague Diana. Amaral is still somewhere here with the ones who support him, and with the Warders. We’re trying to track down where they’re hiding.”

“Where has Romero gone?” I asked “Do you know?”

“Santa Fe would be very dangerous for them,” he spoke with certainty. I could tell he
wanted
them to try and hide in Santa Fe. Then he shrugged. “Romero’s Santa Fe Diakon has a place somewhere out on Highway 14. They probably think they’re safe, but Amaral has spies in Romero’s camp. Your friend will be in the crossfire.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly. I had to wrap this up quickly and get out there after Diana, wherever she was. “You know, this has nothing to do with Savannah and her brother. All that talk of value or revenge was crap.”

“I still want something in exchange for them.”

I steeled myself. “What?”

“Association.”

My stomach flipped. I couldn’t. Naryn was still ready to kill me for hitching Altau with the Denver pack.

“I don’t have the authority. You need to talk to Altau directly.”

“Not with Altau. Not yet anyway.”

No better. With Felix already under pressure for his decision over me, I couldn’t make a promise about a deal between the Denver pack and crazies from New Mexico.

Even if I was starting to suspect they weren’t as crazy as they made out.

“I can’t speak for the Denver pack—”

I stopped when he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“An association between Albuquerque and Pack Deauville,” he said.

“I…”

“You
are
a pack, aren’t you? You were claiming it not an hour ago at this table.”

“Yes.”

“And you are an alpha of the alpha pair?”

I nodded. But I didn’t know if I needed Alex’s permission. Or Felix’s. We shared territory in Denver, and how did association impact that? What if the Denver pack decided we couldn’t share territory?

“You’ve just suggested I talk to Altau about Emergence,” he broke across my chain of thought. “How am I supposed to do that? Either I turn up on Denver territory, or you bring him down here and turn up on my territory. If we don’t have some kind of arrangement, your offer is worthless.”

Not crazy at all.

Put aside the eyes and the voice. The foaming-at-the-mouth threats. The swinging between moods like a bipolar lunatic on anabolic steroids.

He’d had us all here around this table. He’d found out Iversen knew about the association of packs in New Mexico. He’d seen how Iversen reacted to the threat of Altau and the thought of associating with Gold Hill. He’d killed one of the Gold Hill lieutenants, and sent Evans back there with a clear message that would have Gold Hill attacking Ute Mountain—doing half the job he intended to do anyway. And he’d maneuvered me into a position over an association with Albuquerque where I could hardly refuse.

What else had he found out about me and Denver? What had I given away without thinking?

Was his aim to get Colorado and New Mexico to take a stand together against the Confederation?

And
make a deal with Altau?

Not crazy. Not crazy at all.

Just a great front to keep other packs out.

“Well?” he barked.

I opened my mouth to agree and suddenly, there was a hesitant touch on my boot. I froze. I didn’t dare look down and draw attention to it.

The Cimarron wolf, the guy who’d been beaten so badly by Fuller and Evans, was awake.

He was young. I wasn’t good with Were ages, but I thought he was a new wolf. A cub, Zane had called him.

What the hell was he doing?

And what the hell was I going to do about it?

I cleared my throat. “What’s the story on the Cimarron?”

Zane shrugged, frowning at the change of subject. “Apparently, he was attempting to come down here and visit me when Fuller and Evans found him. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rogue packs have been scouting out the Cimarron’s territory. He probably wanted to check that they weren’t friends of ours before responding.”

“He had permission from you to come here?”

“No.”

The Cimarron knew I was aware of him. He dragged himself forward and pressed his head on my boot.