Hidden Trump (Bite Back 2) (53 page)

The Warder captain strode forward from the shadows in the back of the room, his face flushed with anger. “You cannot do this!”

“The terms of your charter were absolute neutrality, Captain.” Skylur pressed a button and Agent Ingram’s recording started to play over the speakers, a bit of the conference call I had not heard earlier. I recognized one of the voices—Marlon.

“Marlon,” whispered Bian, her voice catching. “Betraying our location to the Warders.”

“And from the Warders, straight to Matlal,” Skylur said.

“Baseless allegations,” Matlal called out. “A vote of confidence, now. Now, before you can distort this Assembly with additions that do not reflect the existing opinion.”

“You call it baseless, House Matlal. You have raised an issue and I may address it first. You can have your vote of confidence after that.”

“No! It’s too close to call,” Bian hissed quietly. “The vote of confidence will be a vote on Emergence. Too many Panethus want to stick their heads in the sand. This is too risky.”

“Diakon,” Skylur called. “I believe you have something to show the Assembly on the behavior of House Matlal in Denver.”

Bian stood.

She took three miniature recording disks from her pocket and handed them to an usher to connect into the presentation screen system. Then, in the expectant silence, she paused and turned to me.

“House Farrell. Please, if you would say why we were at the factory in Longmont.”

I got to my feet, ignoring the pain from my shoulder. This I would do.

I pulled Jen’s gurney forward into the middle of the Assembly. At the far end of the room, few of the representatives would have been able to see her. Now they all could.

I trailed my fingers gently down her unconscious face. My eyes smarted and I shook my head angrily.

“This is Jennifer Anna-Marie Kingslund, one of the most prominent people in Denver. Most of you will have met her at the charity ball. My kin, as you have seen proved.”

There was a murmur of surprise throughout the hall, but I was watching Matlal. He flinched. Oh yes, the bastard may not have actually kidnapped her, but he knew all about it.

He was fiddling with the communication system built into his seat, seemingly unable to contact his advisors outside. A small fault, caused by the storm no doubt. Skylur had a way of thinking of everything.

“She was kidnapped,” I said. “And the price of her release was given to me. It was to betray the location of this House in time to catch the Assembly in progress.”

Even Basilikos representatives hissed at that.

“But they already had the location. It was simply a trap. A trap to capture me and have me taken to House Matlal.”

“Ridiculous!” Matlal shouted, joined by fewer of his supporters.

“When we rescued her,” I continued, “it was from human criminals supported by heavily armed members of House Matlal, who were planning, once they had me, to attack this Assembly.”

The whole meeting erupted. Panethus representatives took me at my word and shouted at the Basilikos side. The Basilikos side shouted at me—lies and proof being the main theme. And that was a problem. I believed what I said, the Adepts indicated as much, but I couldn’t prove it. As if they sensed that, the shouts of ‘proof’ became coordinated.

Bian was standing beside me. She reached beneath Jen’s gurney and retrieved the bag she’d carried in Tucker’s factory.

I wondered blurrily what this was. Then I flashed back to her saying that her katana was the weapon best suited to her task, and I knew with a gut-churning certainty what was in the bag.

“Proof!” shouted the Basilikos representatives.

Bian calmly reached into the bag and pulled out a severed head.

“Pascal Medina of House Matlal.” She dropped the head onto the floor and reached in to the bag again while silence fell. “Estebano Moreno of House Matlal. Vincente Herrera of House Matlal.”

I shuddered. I’d had it right ages ago. My allies scared me more than my enemies.

Bian took the presentation controller and the screen at the end of the hall flickered and split into three. I realized that the military helmets that the Fang team had worn hadn’t been equipped with infrared equipment at all. They were video cams.

Paul’s came up first, with the time showing in the bottom right-hand corner. He was sprinting into the warehouse behind the truck I’d just crashed. He scanned the dead guards, the racks of rifles and ammunition, the short fight and the start of making the rifles unusable.

Then he and the others headed towards the factory, chasing the slim figure of Bian. Matlal’s people died on the screens. Tom and Jason fired their P90s and Bian moved like a wraith, the blade flickering in her hands as she reaped her grim harvest.

She and Tom were attempting to pick the leaders, but there were too many. Tom was hit and fell; his camera lens swung wildly as Bian picked him up and headed back, Jason firing to cover their retreat.

I appeared on Paul’s screen, covered in blood and gore from Hoben, yelling for them to go. Jason’s camera wobbled as he was hit and started backing towards Paul, then lurched as he was picked up and carried.

They got to the van. Alex and Bian bent over Jason, and then left him. Tom’s helmet came off and was tossed aside. Paul looked out from the window of the cab at the factory, just as it erupted, flaring out the image.

Basilikos inched away from Matlal, as if he had some contagious fever.

“And here, rather less dramatically,” Skylur said in the silence, picking a message from his pile. “A communication from my good friend and ally, the alpha of the Denver Weres. It seems that they took it upon themselves to investigate a report of Matlal sponsoring a rival pack in Denver. A discussion was had at the Cherry Creek Reservoir. There don’t appear to be any Matlal survivors.”

He tossed the report aside and stood.

“Friends and colleagues, we are at the brink of a new age. Emergence may not be what we wanted, but it is coming whether we want it or not. We must ride the tiger. Emergence is not a cause for factions. We cannot be seen to be fighting. We cannot hold creeds that humanity will not accept. Emergence is a unifying—”

“No!” Correia was back on her feet. “Basilikos disown Matlal. You cannot use Matlal’s attacks against you to force this proposal through. No to Emergence. No to expanding this Assembly. Basilikos will deal with punishment for Matlal. Enough delay. A vote of confidence now.”

Skylur bowed his head. “Whether I agree or not, House Correia is correct, and I cannot delay a vote of confidence.” He looked down the row of Panethus.

A half-dozen shook their heads at him. I groaned.

“See!” shouted Correia in triumph. “Those Panethus with sense abandon you. We outnumber your supporters. You are removed from office.”

“This is very much not the case,” a calm voice said behind her. “Theokos will support Altau to remain in position.” He stood, and those closest to him stood.

Other Basilikos representatives were yelling at the Theokos representatives. Correia finally made herself heard.

“I am assuming leadership of Basilikos.” She glared at Matlal. He was furious, but smart enough to see that he couldn’t lead Basilikos now. Correia looked around and no one contradicted her statement. She turned back to Arvinder. “I demand you withdraw that, House Singh. Basilikos does not allow this opinion.”

Arvinder remained standing, locked in a staring contest with her. Without moving his eyes, he said: “Then Theokos requests acceptance into Panethus.”

“Granted,” said Skylur. “And welcome.”

Theokos crossed the floor with dignity while Basilikos dissolved into shouted arguments, Matlal and Correia at the center, yelling in Athanate.

Skylur beckoned me forward.

With only a few of the Panethus truly paying attention, I knelt shakily and gave my oath.

An oath that permitted Skylur to imprison me if he thought it was for the greater Athanate good.

An oath that had its counterpart, where Skylur promised loyalty for loyalty.

“Welcome.” He almost smiled at me. His right eyelid drooped. Almost a wink.

He looked over at the swirling quarrel that was Basilikos. “We’ve gained ourselves some useful time, for which I thank you. We have to use this time well, we’re not safe yet, not by a long way.”

I rose and everything went dark. I nearly keeled over. Bian and Alex caught me and helped me back to the chair.

“A minute, House Farrell,” called out Norgaard. “Since Diana is your Mentor, maybe you can tell us where she is?”

I struggled to focus. “I don’t know. Canada was a complete surprise to me.”

“Where did you think?”

“Mexico City seems empty of Athanate just now,” my demon said. Not that I wanted it, but Basilikos heads turned and I had their attention again. My mind cleared at the hostile looks, but the demon rattled on. “Maybe she’s gone to claim it for Panethus. Or, who knows, she could be in New Mexico. It’s a trap, of course, but as House Matlal has found, traps can bite back.”

Matlal screamed in rage and leaped to his feet, fighting off restraining hands.

Diana and Skylur had prepared me for this.

Matlal’s attack on my mind was brutal, with nothing of the restraint of Skylur, nor the overwhelming power of Diana. Sheer direct assault, like ice picks thrusting into my head.

Diana had taught me how to defend myself, to use my buried anger as fuel to resist. It wasn’t even as if it were buried now. The whole day, anger had simmered just below the surface, threatening to explode at any time.

I howled and lashed out with every fiber of my being. I screamed at the tide of pain that flashed through me: forgotten pain, remembered pain, pain gathered from Jen, all buried in an anger so violent and formless it made my whole body burn.

Matlal collapsed like a broken toy.

I knew. I knew then.

Alex caught me as I fell.

Chapter 53

Bian got us out of the Assembly, and took us to a luxurious underground suite. David and Pia were pushing Jen’s gurney and Alex was holding me up.

Jen stirred as we moved her to the bed.

“She’ll come around briefly, from time to time, during her recovery,” Bian said. “She’ll be disoriented. You have to be there for her.”

Too shaky to stand, I knelt next to Jen on the bed. Alex was on the other side, checking her pulse and blood pressure again.

Jen’s eyes fluttered and she frowned. “Amber?” she whispered.

I held her hand and bent over her. “I’m right here with you, Jen. You’re safe. You’re going to be fine.”

“Pain,” she mumbled.

“I can’t risk giving her painkillers until I’ve done some tests and got her on a monitor,” Alex said to me.

I shook my head. I knew that wasn’t what she meant.

“No,” Jen said. “Don’t want. No pain. There’s no pain. What happened?” Her free hand came up to her face and I felt her horror at the memory of her wounds and her confusion as she found healing flesh.

She opened her eyes wide and looked at me. And
reached
. The shock traveled down my spine. I grabbed Alex’s hand for support, and that made it worse. It felt as if every emotion was shared between the three of us, raw and sharp as broken glass.

When Bian had talked about binding, I’d had a vision of what it would be. I imagined ships tied securely to a solid, concrete dock in a safe harbor, with me as some kind of pompous harbor master strutting around, in control. That may be what can be done, maybe what Bian thought we’d done, but it wasn’t what we’d done.

When I’d bound us, if that’s what it was, I’d done what felt right. The picture that came to mind was more of three ships lashed together out in the wide ocean. They were bound to me, but by the same means, I was bound to them. When they shifted, I shifted right along with them. Both of them.

Twice bound, and thrice.

Surprised as we were, Alex and I had a chance to figure out what had happened. Jen had just woken into it. She was panicking and it was panicking me too. Alex couldn’t help; in fact, he was making it worse. As he realized what had happened, he pulled away as hard as he could.

It was Pia who understood what needed to be done. Gathering David and Alex, she pulled us all physically together and began to radiate a feeling of family, of belonging together. It washed over me, calmed me, lifted me, until I could join with her and David, broadcasting the feeling to Jen. We swept her up. I could feel the moment when she ceased to struggle and just joined with us, not understanding, but accepting.

But Alex couldn’t. I could see him try, and I could also see his wolf frantic with the feeling of being trapped. He radiated a claustrophobic fear, and because we were together, he realized the hurt it was doing to us. He was trying to withdraw and trying not to hurt us, and realizing that he couldn’t do one without the other. We were on the point of losing him, which would have left us forever wounded, when I felt Hana scrabble to the forefront of my mind. The others could feel her and they were shocked, but took their cue from my welcoming reaction.

Hana looked out through my eyes and captured Alex’s, wolf to wolf. Speaking for the first time, addressing him through my mouth, she uttered the one, right word. “Pack.”

The wolf in his eyes became calmer, less frantic, and I could breathe again. It was a long way from acceptance, but it was a start, an understanding. I looked from one set of eyes to the other—Jen’s puzzled and blue and already slipping back into unconsciousness, and Alex’s, wary and golden. Both so beautiful to me.

“Bian.” I stopped her as she made to leave after a monitor had been delivered for Jen. Alex sat silently attaching wires.

“You must rest, Amber.”

“I will. There’s something I must tell you and Skylur.” I was barely able to speak. My thoughts skittered around like marbles dropped on a stone floor. “Matlal…”

“You’re safe, he’s being held.”

“No.” I grimaced. If only my shoulder would stop hurting. If only my head would stop spinning. “Not that.”

She pushed me gently back onto the bed, next to Jen.

“Matlal’s not real,” I said, slurring.