Cool Hand (43 page)

“She turned me down.” Tucek’s voice matched his light tone.

“You’d have been second in line.” Amaral jerked his head after the Wind River alpha. “But she’s not available anyway. She’s mine. I have important uses for her.”

Tucek smiled and casually stepped back.

Locked into some invisible signal from her, the nuns moved. It looked random, but suddenly they were all facing the Amaral Athanate.

Please. Let them all kill each other.

Amaral and his men shifted, unconsciously responding to the threat they hadn’t really registered yet.

Tucek’s lips thinned. Not a smile. Not quite a sneer.

“House Amaral, we’re leaving now. Consider this building as a gift.” She tilted her head thoughtfully to one side. “I’ve been here nine years, and though I’m no more a nun than you are, it
has
provided me with a chance for contemplation. I urge you to think on its message.”

Amaral blinked. “Deception?” he guessed.

“Oh, that too. But there’s another, one that was laid down in the bones of the old farm.” She tapped her foot on the flagstones. “This place was built from the foundations upward on the premise that you don’t really have what you can’t hold.”

Amaral blinked again, an understanding of the precipice beneath his feet gradually dawning on his face. His team picked it up. They were good, too, much better than I’d given them credit for. Without any sudden movements they were spread out. Hands strayed closer to guns and the tension ratcheted.

Then the moment was broken.

Another couple of nuns came in, supporting Frank, who was pale and stumbling. He’d been beaten when they kidnapped him. Now, his neck was bloody with bites. His hands were still tied.

But behind the nuns, four more Amaral came in, these dressed in combat gear and with assault rifles already in their hands. The balance shifted.

“Ah. The bait we brought in from the town,” Tucek said, as if nothing else had happened. “Redundant now. Is he
yours
too?” She raised an eyebrow at Amaral.

Frank’s dazed eyes found me and he jerked in shock. The look of hope that dawned in his face was like a punch in my belly.

“He’s just a store clerk,” I said. “Blank his memory and let him go. Please.”

Amaral ignored me and shook his head, his mouth pursed in distaste. “No interest here. Take him with you.”

“For in-flight snacks?” She laughed. “We’ll all be strapped in, flying at treetop level. No chance for entertainment.”

Amaral jerked his chin. One of the guards raised his gun.

“No!” I yelled.

“No.” Tucek raised her hand. She smiled at me. “You’re right.”

She walked to Frank. “No point in waste.”

“No, please,” I begged. I’d gotten him into this, however inadvertently.

Death and sorrow and pain and loss.

“Too late, Farrell,” she said. “You had your chance.”

Frank overbalanced as Tucek grabbed his shirt. Before he recovered, she’d bitten his neck. His scream choked off raggedly and his knees folded underneath him. She lowered him smoothly, the fangs tearing his flesh but staying buried in him. He started to struggle, giving another thin, bubbling scream that almost covered Tucek’s grunts of pleasure.

My hands were tied. I was hobbled.

The wolf burned like acid inside. My view of the courtyard
twisted
and the sound I made didn’t come from a human throat. I lunged toward Tucek’s vulnerable back.

There was a searing explosion in my skull as the
bō hammered against my head, and darkness followed like a falling blade.

When I came around, I was slumped in the back seat of an SUV.

It was an improvement over the last time—no toilet smells and I could actually see. And I still had the nun’s cloak fastened around my neck, although it wasn’t doing much good, twisted and bunched underneath me.

Without opening my eyes, I knew Evans was sitting next to me.

Given that I was tied up and mostly naked, that wasn’t good.

I pretended to be unconscious still, but Evans wasn’t fooled. I could feel the weight of his look, the touch of the sickness in his head. Joining Gold Hill had twisted his mind with shocking speed. His marque was still from the Denver pack—it should have been comforting and familiar to me. The fact that it wasn’t comforting at all was a double blow.

There was a subliminal growl from the front of the car.

Two Were. Wind River marque. One concentrating on driving nose to tail behind another truck, and the other turned around and snarling displeasure at Evans.

I let myself relax one degree, no more.

Wind River were the enemy, but they weren’t like Gold Hill, and I was relatively safe while they were around. If Evans got me on my own…

I swallowed painfully, my throat dry.

If Evans got me on my own, then I’d do what I’d been trained to do in Ops 4-10.

It had been one of the few times they’d split us up by gender.

I blinked at the memories crowding my mind.

Top is standing at the front of the room, his hands behind him.

‘You come to us as a product, in part, of the culture in which you were raised,’ he says. ‘A culture that reacts differently to capture depending on whether you are male or female.’

He rocks up onto the balls of his feet. ‘I will challenge that,’ he says.

The women got Ben-Haim. He had us strip naked and tie each other up. We didn’t dare laugh, but there were some sly winks and nervous whispers. Then he put bags over our heads and made us stand for hours. Men we couldn’t see strolled through our ranks, making obscene threats and laughing at us.

And behind them, Ben-Haim walked, so quietly my ears ached to hear where he was. He touched us or slapped us painfully at random, without reason or excuse.

I could hear his voice, like a gray knife sliding under my skin:

You will smile and sing lullabies if you have to. You will do whatever it takes to make your captors believe they have the upper hand. Whatever it takes, because there is nothing more important than staying alive. Nothing. Not your dignity, the sanctity of your body, your morals, your ethics. Nothing. Dead women don’t get away. You will survive.

That had only been the softening up.

A dozen women left the unit without passing that test.

I wouldn’t have passed, without the strongbox to lock things away.

Something touched my lips and I jerked in shock, but it was only the guy from the front, holding a water bottle for me.

I drank thirstily.

“Thank you,” I muttered hoarsely.

His mouth was a thin, hard line and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He’d probably been assigned to this truck randomly and once we reached our destination, he’d have other duties. Evans was the one who’d be guarding me. The Wind River Were didn’t like it.

I couldn’t say anything else to him.

I would endure. Evans would make a mistake. Eventually.

The guard reached into the back and tugged the edge of the cloak from under me. “Sit up,” he said, and I did, letting him pull it around me.

Which meant I had a great view of what happened next.

The lead truck slowed. I craned my neck. There was a metal barrel in the middle of the track.

Oh, my God.

The second truck wobbled and ran into the back of the first without braking. The rest screeched to a halt.

“What the fuck?” the driver swore.

I twisted and dived into the footwell.

The windshield shattered with a bang. The driver shuddered and collapsed over the steering wheel. The barrel in front of the convoy exploded. There was another explosion behind us, and suddenly there was a wave of dark shapes breaking over the trucks.

The freaking cavalry was here.

Evans was half-way out of the truck when the door slammed back into him.

“Don’t kill them,” I yelled, keeping my head
down
.

Even if they knew I was here, an accidental bullet is still a bullet.

Shots were fired. There were shouts and screams, and then, abruptly, it was all over.

“Amber?” a deep voice boomed.

I looked up carefully. The gathering gloom of evening seemed to pool into one huge figure at the open door of the car.

“Silas?”

“Yelena,” Silas yelled. “She’s here.”

He lifted me out gently. I groaned at the stabbing pain in my shoulders as my weight came to bear on them.

Yelena ran up, pulling out a knife to cut my ropes.

“Stop,” I said. “Don’t cut them. And keep that bastard alive.” I kicked Evans’ unconscious body.

“What?” Yelena and Silas were frowning at me.
Head injury
, I could see the thought hit them both.

“Give me a minute,” I said. “I’ll explain.”

They watched dubiously as I hobbled around the SUV. The driver had been hit by a hollow point round, right through the chest. He’d been dead before his head hit the steering wheel. The guard who’d given me water had gotten out of the car, but he was dead too, and I was sorry for that. He’d ended up on the wrong side and he’d have handed me over to whatever Amaral had planned for me, but he hadn’t been evil like Evans.

Yelena had followed. She caught me carefully, trying not to put pressure on my arms.

“Slow down. You’re okay now,” she said. “Let us help you.”

“No,” I said, putting out all the House authority I could muster. I pulled gently away from her, and she released me, frowning again.

Silas had joined us, and behind him another Were. For a moment, I thought it was Ben. Right marque, wrong man, wrong level. This was the Cimarron pack alpha, and I became aware of more Cimarron behind him.

“Ma’am,” he said. His voice was measured and growly. “You’re safe now. Let us get those ropes. They look damned uncomfortable.”

On him, the crusty Were paternalism was kind of sweet.

“Believe me, I’d like nothing more,” I said. They had no idea how true that was; I’d had a hell of a day and I didn’t look forward to making it worse. “But these ropes have to stay exactly the way they are. I know where Diana is. She’s in Amaral’s camp. And I need for Evans to escape with me as his prisoner, so that little shit can take me right to them.”

They tried to talk me out of it, but I wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. And since neither Felix nor Naryn was here, there was no one who could make me.

More armed Were gathered around: about twenty Denver pack to balance the Cimarron. Mary was there as well, pushing through the barrier of bodies, the tail end of a working drifting around her like a veil. Probably she’d helped conceal the marques of the ambush party.

Yelena moved behind me, massaging my shoulders, while I made my speech to the gathered Were.

“Diana Ionache is one of the most powerful, most influential Athanate in the entire world,” I said. “She’s being held captive by Amaral and his pet Adepts—under a kind of compulsion.” No time now to explain the intricacies of Diana’s position and the Adept working. I took a deep breath. “While we’re standing here, Amaral is putting together a broadcast in which Diana will be forced to come out in support of him—and it will look like she’s doing that voluntarily. We have to get her out before that happens.” Or before she refused, and was killed. But they didn’t need to know that part. If they thought she would refuse, they wouldn’t see any reason to go in after her.

The Cimarron alpha, who Silas had introduced as Don Stillman, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Begging your pardon, but this sounds like Athanate business. Not Were.”

I closed my eyes. Time was ticking away.

“It’s everybody’s business,” I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice—and my eukori. “Amaral’s going to use that endorsement to sway Panethus houses that are on the fence over to his side. They don’t know he’s allied with Basilikos. If enough of them support him—and they will, if Diana comes out in his favor—he’s going to cross the river into Colorado and issue a challenge to Skylur. That was the whole purpose of claiming both sides of the river for Gold Hill. Panethus will split, Altau will fall—and Basilikos and the Confederation will start a war throughout North America. None of us want that.”

I looked directly at Stillman. “I appreciate you coming here more than I can say,” I told him. “Now I need to ask you to back me on this. If I get Evans to take me in there, I can disrupt the broadcast and free Diana. All I need is a team to get me out once that’s done. Will you do it?”

I held his gaze, and for a minute I thought I had him. Then he shook his head, a tinge of regret in his eyes.

“I brought my wolves here ’cos we owed you,” he said. “You put yourself in harm’s way to help Ben, down in Albuquerque, and I reckon it might be my great-nephew’s alive ’cos of it. I also got a bone to pick with Gold Hill.” He grunted and shifted his shoulders. “But attacking the Confederation is crazy talk, almost as bad as taking on Gold Hill while they got the Confederation right here at their backs. I’m sorry about this Diana lady, but I ain’t convinced that a few words from her is gonna bring Panethus down, and start World War III.”

“You let the Confederation get a foothold in New Mexico,” Silas said, “and they’re going be your neighbors.”

“So Felix told me. But see, we’re plains Were and their name, well, it’s the Central Mountain Confederation. I don’t rightly see that their ambitions would extend to the Cimarron territories at all.”

From where I was standing, he sounded more hopeful than convinced on that point. But he was adamant in his decision. “I’m not saying I like it, but I reckon we’re even. You go back in, Amber, and I say that’s your choice. I won’t put my pack at risk to get you out again.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “Now, I shook hands with Felix, and he treated Ben well. He’s a good neighbor, too, so I have to stand by him on the Colorado border.” He squinted. “Ain’t so good a neighbor as I’d cross it for him to fight some Athanate battle.”

Having him preventing Amaral from crossing that border would be a big advantage. Silas and I knew it. We didn’t want to risk that by arguing, until we had something more to persuade him.

“Been a pleasure,” Don said. “Thank you again, Amber, and I wish you luck.”

He assembled his Were and they trotted off into the gathering darkness.

Damn.

We couldn’t just stall Amaral; he would only move and try again. We needed to stop him here and now.

When Plan A fails, you move to Plan B. And C, and D—all the way down to Z if you have to.
I’d learned that in Ops 4-10. Time was slipping away—and my shoulders were killing me.

“Gather ’round, people,” I said. “We have about ten more minutes before O’Neill is going to start wondering what happened to his convoy and come looking. I need to get into Amaral’s camp and take him out if I can. Then I need to break the lock on Diana. Finally, I have to get her out of the middle of House Amaral, the Confederation and assorted Adepts. How much backup do I have?”

“Not much,” Silas admitted. “Our pack is squatted across the river from Amaral’s camp, but there aren’t nearly enough of us to take on everything he’s got. Not if Cimarron and Cheyenne won’t play ball—and they’re not.”

“Cheyenne?” I asked.

“Naryn took your advice on helping Cheyenne,” Tullah said, walking up with Julie. Julie had a rifle slung over her shoulder, the long sinister barrel sticking up. I guessed it’d been her precision shooting that took out the drivers.

And was that you, lizard? The exploding barrels?
I asked.

Yes. Tullah made your fertilizer bombs and I lit them. Such pretty little explosions. We could have made them even prettier with your help.

I smothered a chuckle.

“The problem is,” Silas was saying, “Cheyenne won’t move beyond Altau’s domain without Naryn. And Naryn’s still on the way.”

“Look, we should call Felix,” Julie said. “We need to report in and, who knows, Naryn might have caught up with us.”

Sound tactical sense, but I itched at the delay.

Silas had a military radio and within a few seconds, he had Felix on an encrypted channel.

Besides the Were, Felix had representatives of the Denver Adept community with him, led by Weaver. My House was there, too, apart from Alex, who’d gone with Bian to look for me in Taos, and would need to be recalled. Weaver had been invited because Amaral had Adepts as allies. But Weaver wanted to parley, not fight. His people had agreed to mask the packs’ presence the same way that Mary had done for Silas’s team, but that was the extent of their contribution so far.

It seemed like Naryn was my only hope.

“He’s still a couple of hours away,” Felix said, his voice crackling over the radio. “Is there some way we can delay this broadcast?”

“Parley?” Mary suggested.

Silas grunted. “About what?”

My mind started clicking. “Border access,” I said. “Look, Amaral can’t call a Convocation without physically being in Colorado. That’s why he had Gold Hill announce that their territory overlapped the border—so he could call in the Confederation to protect him in his ally’s claimed area
in Colorado
while he issues the challenge to Skylur.”

“And Gold Hill’s claim infringes our territory,” Felix said. “If we dispute it—tell Amaral that we’re not letting the Confederation or their allies over the border—then he’ll have to talk to us.”

“What if he just decides to do his broadcast and then fight his way in?” Silas asked.

“He can’t issue the Convocation challenge in the middle of a battle,” I pointed out. “What about offering him temporary access if Gold Hill’s claim is retracted? Once you’ve told him that, say the parley will resume in an hour, to give him time to discuss it. Then we come up with another problem. Anything to hold him up until Naryn arrives.”

“I don’t like one-plan strategies,” Julie said. “What about a diversion as well? Or something to get more people into Amaral’s camp?”

There was a moment’s silence. I was shivering in the cold and time was ticking on. Julie’s question was good, but we didn’t have time to gold-plate.

I opened my mouth to suggest we move when Tullah spoke, fingering the necklace.

“What if we offered to do the Were-changing ritual?”

Everyone turned and stared at her.

“Why would Amaral be interested in that?” Felix asked.

“He wouldn’t,” Tullah said. “I was thinking about the Confederation. What if you told the Confederation alpha that we know how to do the ritual, and if he withdraws his support from Gold Hill and leaves Colorado alone, we’ll share it with him?”

“Do you think he’d believe us?” Mary asked dubiously.

“Say you’ll show it to him,” Tullah said. “A full-blown ritual should take up plenty of time.”

“But we don’t know the ritual,” I said.

“And I can’t put Olivia through that,” Felix added. “I have her here, where I can keep an eye on her, but making her vulnerable in that way is too much to ask.”

“Then do it on somebody else,” Tullah said impatiently. “Someone who can already change. How’s the Confederation going to know? It’s just to buy us time, and to get Amaral’s allies arguing with each other.”

“She has a point,” Felix said. “It just might work.”

“Okay, then,” I said. “We have Plan A and B. We’ve got to get this moving.”

They couldn’t disagree. Night had fallen. The convoy would be overdue.

Mary and Tullah came and hugged me, carefully avoiding my shoulders.

Kaothos. We have a deal.

We have, Amber Farrell.

The lizard sounded somber.

After Tullah was Julie.

“I’m staying on this side of the border,” she said, and patted the rifle. “Plan C.”

“The place will be crawling with—”

“Crawling with amateurs. I’ll be fine. You’re the one in the fire.” Julie didn’t do kisses, but she tried a hug and then left at a run.

The part of the story that still needed completing was Evans; he needed his memory scrambled to the point where he thought he’d managed to escape.

I took a step toward him.

He was awake and aware of what we’d been talking about. He cringed back against the side of the SUV.

I had no idea what I needed to do, but I’d almost compelled my sister once. Maybe it was an instinctive thing. Before I could try anything, Yelena pulled me back.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

I could hear an eagerness in her voice.

“Just what’s necessary,” I said. “Don’t screw him up any more.”

“Yes, Boss, of course.”

“And…” I frowned. Was I getting too complicated here? “Convince him it was the Santa Fe pack.”

She grinned, hauled Evans to his feet and shoved him into the driver’s seat of our SUV, forcing him to push the dead man away from him. In seconds there was blood all over him.

He struggled until she bit into his arm, her fangs piercing his coat and shirt.

His eyes grew dazed and his limbs flopped.

She stopped biting and arranged him, kicking and shoving his unresponsive body until he was sitting with his hands on the wheel and his feet on the pedals.

I climbed into the back and crouched in the footwell again.

Yelena reached in and started the engine.

I could feel her eukori reaching. It had felt so pleasant when I’d sensed it at the airfield, but now it had a harsher edge.

“Had to get away,” she whispered. “Getting dark. Attack on the convoy. Driver was shot. Guard got out and he was shot too. Got in the driver’s seat. They were coming in from all sides. Santa Fe Were. So many. So confusing. Had to get away. The bitch was in the back. That’s what was important. Had to get her to Amaral. Had to go, fast as I could. They were shooting at me. I kept my head down. Foot full on the gas. I drove around the other trucks.”

Evans was staring out the front windshield without really seeing anything. His mouth was moving.

His right foot was on the gas so the engine was racing.

“Put it into first gear,” Yelena said.

Evans frowned. He pressed the clutch and shoved the gearstick forward.

Yelena closed the driver’s door quietly.

“Ready,” she said. “Now, go!”

His left foot lifted and he jerked as if he’d just come around after being stunned.

Yelena leaped away.

The SUV lurched forward and suddenly he was swearing and spinning the wheel, weaving between the remaining trucks too fast.

It’d be a hell of a way to screw it up if he crashed.

But luck was with us. We slithered up the hill, past the burned-out first truck of the convoy, and then back down to the track. They shot at us and I heard rounds striking the SUV and piercing the light bodywork.

Easy, guys. I’m in here, remember.

And then we were around the next bend; Evans was punching the shattered windshield out and thinking he was some helluva hero.