Motor City Witch (15 page)

“Make a move and the silver cuffs come back.” Greg’s voice was low and menacing. He loomed over the other werewolf at his full height of perhaps six feet, legs splayed and hands on hips, all alpha wolf. He growled softly and spit on the floor beside the chair. “Poor little omega wolf cub. Tell us who you work for and we might spare your miserable life.” The term cub was pure insult—based on the gray streaks in his hair and his lined face, this wolf looked quite a bit older than Greg.

The other wolf found some spine and hissed, spitting back directly into Greg’s face.

“Oh, yeah, I’m glad you did that, you pathetic pissant.” Greg grinned and held up his gloved hand, with the bulk of the silver signet ring turned inward toward the palm. He drew his hand back for a strike.

Aidan thought about reminding Greg they’d agreed on no torture, but he trusted Greg not to cross the line—not by too much anyway. All Aidan had to do was remember Dina in that tiny, grungy cell and his scruples pretty much disappeared.

The wolf cringed and lowered his head, exposing his neck to Greg. “No. Please don’t. What do you want to know?”

“Take away all my fun,” Greg grumbled. “Fine. Let’s start with your name and where you’re from. I’ve never seen you in the Detroit area before.”

“Stanislaw Wosnicki. I live in Hamtramck, but I moved here from New York a few months ago to work with my cousin Pete. He owns a Polish bakery.” Hamtramck, a small city completely enclosed by Detroit, was a mostly Polish community and a lot of werewolves had Eastern European ancestry, so of course there’d be some overlap.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of a wolf named Wosnicki. Didn’t think he was an asshole, but I might have to reconsider. So, Stanny-boy, how’d you end up working for Oswald Le Faire?”

“Le Fairy, who? Oh, you mean that elf dude? Never heard his name. Only saw him a couple times. Turns out you make shit money working for a bakery. Frank—that’s another cousin, in there.” He jerked a thumb out to indicate the cell. “He said he knew a guy wanted some muscle. Wasn’t the elf, though. At the time I figured he was just some Arabic dude.”

“So the Arabic dude—and he’s a djinni, you moron—comes up to your cousin looking to hire some lupine muscle. When?”

Stan shrugged. “’Bout a week ago, I guess.”

“And you didn’t bother asking what you’d be doing?”

The prisoner shrugged. “Didn’t much care.”

“Not even when you saw
children
in those cells?” The words spilled from Aidan’s mouth before he could stop them.

Stan shook his head. “Not really. Wasn’t any of my business.”

Aidan would have blinked in his cutlass if the wards in this room would have allowed it. Greg slammed his gloved hand, wearing the silver ring, down on the other wolf’s hand, making him yelp in pain. “Wrong answer, omega. Now, if you don’t want that burned into the skin of your dick, tell us everything you can about the elf, the djinni and the whole operation.”

“Okay, okay!” He sucked at the slight red mark on his hand, which was gone in seconds anyway. What a useless wimp, Aidan thought. “All we were ever told was to guard the prisoners, feed them at certain times and not ask questions. If anything happened, we were supposed to call Abed, the djinni. If we couldn’t get him, we could call the elf and if shit really hit the fan, there was another number—the big cheese, I think—but we never got a name for him.”

“What makes you think the elf wasn’t in charge?” Greg stepped back, giving Stan some space. “Or the djinni, for that matter.”

“I heard them argue.” Stan relaxed a bit and dragged in a breath. “When the elf brought that one in…” He pointed at Aidan. “He wanted to go ahead and kill everyone right away. The other guy wanted to wait until they had the rest. When elf-boy bitched, the umm—djinni—threatened to tell someone named ‘Nightshade’ on them, and pointy-ears came right around.”

“Nightshade?” Wallis and Aidan mouthed at each other, before each turned to Desmond, with blank looks and shakes of the head. It backed up the idea that there was more going on here than Oswald wanting control of the council.

“So how did the djinni find your cousin?” Greg demanded, leaning over the table. “It’s not like magic types and wolves usually hang around together.”

“He used a name,” Stan admitted slowly. “Beowulf is apparently working for Nightshade, and he gave the djinni a list of names. None of us were willing to say no to him.”

Greg sucked in a breath and sat back on the table. “Beowulf? You’re sure?”

Stan nodded. “Once I heard that name, I sure as hell wasn’t going to argue.”

“And you have no idea who might have hired him, or the elf and djinni?”

The prisoner shook his head frantically. “Not a fucking clue. All I know is Abed said something about taking advantage of the elf’s own craziness. I don’t think the people we had were the primary targets, not for the big boss. I think they were just using the elf to stir things up for his people—so the Fae would have too much trouble of their own to deal with, and they’d get the hell out of Detroit.”

“Shite, this goes deeper than we thought.” Aidan shared a glance with Des.

The wolf kept babbling. “Anyway, after screwing this up, I’ll be lucky if I live long enough to get the hell out of the country before Beowulf finds me.” His skin had gone pale.

“Oh, I think we can help with that,” Aidan drawled. “You’re about to spend some time as a guest of the faerie queen.”

The werewolf swallowed hard. “Faerie…queen?” He slumped into his chair. “Fine. Maybe Beowulf won’t find me wherever that is.”

“So do we transport all the prisoners to the palace?” Wallis asked after they sent Stan back into his cell and climbed the stairs. “Or do we let the goblins and the orc go?”

After a short hesitation, Aidan said, “All of them, for now, anyway. At the best, we’ve reduced their forces considerably, in case we have to fight them again. Also, based on what I heard this morning from the palace, it may actually extend their lifespans. Eamon turned up in the morgue last night with his throat ripped out. And if he popped up in the morgue, that means he was killed in this realm. They may well be taking out all the witnesses, even their allies once they’re done with them.”

“Sounds like Beowulf.” Greg shook his head. “Damn it, I was hoping Stanislaw was full of shit. We so didn’t need that complication.”

“Who—or what—the fuck is Beowulf?” Aidan was sick to death of not knowing what was going on. “Other than an old story?”

“Werewolf assassin of legendary status.” Greg’s voice was grim.

“The
Wyndewin
believe he
is
a legend.” Desmond slumped into a chair in the security office. “Story’s been around way too long—wolves don’t have two-hundred-year lifespans.”

Greg plopped onto the top of a file cabinet, while Aidan paced and Wallis booted up his computer. “No—we only live ninety to a hundred or so if we don’t get ourselves killed—which a lot of us manage to do. Beowulf, however, isn’t a single person—not historically at any rate. Belief within the clans and packs is that he’s actually different generations from the same bloodline. Each Beowulf picks the most suitable descendant and trains him so there’s a replacement when the old one retires or dies.”

“And none of the wolves have ever put a stop to him?” Aidan found that hard to believe.

Greg’s shrug was eloquent. “We don’t have an organized government like the Fae or even the
Wyndewin
. It’s pretty much every pack for itself. A lot of the packs have been involved in organized crime—hell, my grandfather worked with the Purple Gang in Detroit during Prohibition and never thought anything of it. The only thing
all
packs agree on is that keeping our secret means not preying on humans. There’s a treaty to that effect and sometimes packs will band together to take out a rogue. But Beowulf? Whoever he is, he’s way above the level of rogue, though he’ll take on a target from any race. From what I understand, his price tag is a million a hit. But witnesses are free.”

Aidan whistled. “So whoever our mysterious boss is, he’s got deep pockets and he’s willing to work with members of almost any race to accomplish his goals.”

Des shrugged. “Someone wants to own all the magic in Detroit. Sounds like typical turf wars to me. But what group is organized and powerful enough to take on both the Fae and the
Wyndewin?
”

Aidan shook his head. “Not the wolves. None of the other shifter groups have a big enough population here. The djinn in Dearborn seem happy to work with us above board, aside from this Abed. And why?”

Elise took a step inside and added her support to his statement. “Lana mentioned something last night that you probably need to know. Apparently there are a few in the werewolf community who’ve been hearing rumors of a ‘takeover’ in the supernatural community. Someone wants Detroit as their stronghold. Obviously they’ve got a mole in the League, or Des wouldn’t have been called to Toronto. Whoever is at the root of this, it goes way deeper than Oswald, but they’re not above using his grudge as a starting point.”

The men all nodded. What she said made a hell of a lot of sense. He wished the sight of her didn’t make him smile—it was damn undignified.

“Anyway, I came by to tell you that the Willows are going back Underhill. They’re going to gather their kids and grandkids at their estate for a while, so they can all keep an eye on each other. Meagan and Ric are talking about heading back to Paris, unless you need them for something else. Also, Jase wants to know if he should cancel his pottery class tonight, or if you think you’re okay with him and George taking off.”

“Do any of us think Oswald is stupid enough to try another snatch-and-grab?” Aidan looked around at the other men.

Greg, Wallis and Desmond all shook their heads. Greg spoke for them all. “I think at this point, he’s going to have to regroup and consider plan B.”

“In that case, everybody might as well go back to their lives.” Aidan stood and crossed to Elise. “Though I’d really rather you and Dina stay here for a couple more days.”

“I’m staying too.” Des got to his feet. “You can use more magical backup and Dina knows me. But you’re right—the others should probably go. This could stretch on for months.”

“Okay.” Greg stood too. “I’ll get Lana and Fee and go open the bar. But call if you need us for anything. Meanwhile, we’ll see what we can find out from our pack and a few other contacts, particularly about Beowulf.”

“Fee?” Aidan tried to imagine his snobbish former secretary allowing the nickname and couldn’t. Shaking his head, he turned back to Elise. “I need to go talk to the queen when we deliver the prisoners. Will you and Dina stay here?”

Elise shook her head. “Des can stay here with Dina. I’m coming with you.”

He knew he should argue—the palace might not be safe—but he couldn’t. She’d earned the right to stand by his side, especially since he wanted to keep her there for the rest of their lives. “Okay.” He smiled and took her hand, ignoring her hesitation and blush. “Let’s go ruin someone else’s day.”

Once again, Elise found herself seriously underdressed for an audience with the queen.

“One of these times, I’m going to have to take you up on stopping for appropriate clothing.” She and Aidan waited in the queen’s office for Llyris to appear. “Although those gowns look uncomfortable as hell.” Many of the elves in this part of the palace wore full medieval, Elizabethan, or Victorian regalia, though as slim as they all were, she was sure they didn’t need to bother with corsets.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find something you could live with,” Aidan said. “How about traditional Chinese? That would raise a few eyebrows and you’d look stunning.”

“Yeah, like I’d bind my feet for anyone.” Otherwise, though, that could work and it might irritate a few of the high-and-mighty Euro-centric elves, which would be an added bonus.

He sighed. “One of these days, you’re going to have to explain your grudge against the court, you know. I know you had it before you met me, so it’s none of my doing.”

“The portal guardian in Vancouver when I was young—he really hated the
Wyndewin
and went out of his way to humiliate my parents whenever possible. His teenage daughter did the same to me all through high school.” Elise had attended a private school like most
Wyndewin,
but that same school had also catered to other not-quite-humans, including the young Fae.

“Ouch. Sorry. But I like to think we’re just like any other group of individuals. Some good, some bad, some in between.”

The words were so close to the ones she’d said to Des about werewolves that she winced in chagrin. Had she subconsciously been holding that against Aidan all this time? Letting old feelings color her perceptions of his actions and character? Damn, there was another apology she owed him.

“That’s one explanation down. How about telling me why you won’t use your magic anymore? Dina said you were afraid of it, but that doesn’t sound like the Elise I’ve known.”

Elise stared at the ground. If she wanted to try to rebuild her relationship with him, she had to tear down her barriers and tell the truth. “I claim it’s because magic is just lazy when it comes to day-to-day life, but that’s just an excuse. The truth is, when I was attacked by the demon, my own magic turned against me.”

“How?” He gathered her close to his side, warm concern washing over her from his voice and his aura.

“I tried a new spell I’d been working on—one to reverse my healing ability and suck the life force out of an enemy. But it backfired. When I tried it, it weakened me and strengthened him. After the attack, while I was recovering, my magic failed every time I tried to use it. Once it even ended up hurting my mom. I was terrified, so after that I limited myself to protective spells.”

“Is that all, or was there more?” Aidan seemed to know she’d only told him part of the story. He did know her better than she’d ever given him credit for.

“Isn’t that enough?” She glanced up and shook her head. “No, there’s a little more. My retirement from the League wasn’t…pleasant. They didn’t want me to quit. By the time I was through arguing with them, I was so disgusted with witches in general that I didn’t want any part of the lifestyle for me or my daughter. I wanted to live in the non-magical world, so I thought we needed to act as ‘normal’ as possible.”

“I’ll never press you to do more magic than you’re comfortable with.” He leaned down and kissed her head. “But remember that it is part of who you are. Quit hating yourself, Elise. You’re far too good a person to deserve it.”

Before she could take the conversation any further, the guard announced Her Majesty. Aidan and Elise stood, bowing as she entered and took her seat on the other side of the desk.

As succinctly as possible, they filled her in on all the details of the last few days, including the probability that Oswald was working in conjunction with a much greater conspiracy.

“Unfortunately, we can only prove his crimes against the Fae.” Llyris frowned after she’d heard them out. “With your testimony, along with the other victims, there will be no problem convicting him. His crimes are serious enough that he’ll forfeit his position as Lord Le Faire and lose his seat on the council. That will quash his pretensions toward the throne once and for all.”

“And this new threat?” Aidan’s strong features were hard as he looked the queen in the eyes and made sure she couldn’t ignore the bigger picture. “A multi-pronged attempt to cast the Fae and other races out of Detroit? I think it would be in the council’s best interest to work with the
Wyndewin
League and even possibly the shifters to make sure this doesn’t happen.”

“Do you? And you, Miss Sutton? As a
Wyndewin
, are you in agreement with this?” The queen’s icy gaze turned onto Elise.

Elise sat up straight and forced herself to meet the monarch’s stare. “I’m no longer an official member of the League, but I do think this is a problem that warrants cooperation and I believe they will too.”

“Very well. Lord Green Oak, you may consider yourself my liaison in this matter with the
Wyndewin
League and, if it becomes absolutely necessary, with the shifters as well, as you seem to have formed some…connections among them.” She made a moue of distaste. “My guards will be informed to apprehend Oswald Le Faire on sight. Is there anything else?”

Aidan shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. And of course, I’ll be happy to work with the League on this matter.”

The man could lie like a pro. Elise had to fight a grin. Aidan would enjoy interacting with the League about as much as he’d like having his legs waxed. But he’d do it, she knew, because duty and keeping promises mattered to him. Yes, he was still an arrogant bastard at times, but she’d finally figured out he wasn’t so much a workaholic as he was completely and utterly responsible. That had sort of sucked in a boyfriend, but it probably wasn’t a bad trait for a father—or even a—what? Lover? Husband? Her head was whirling as she tried to sort out where they were headed, and they really needed to be focusing on more important issues than their own screwed-up relationship—like the future of the world as she knew it.

Elise was still lost in thought as they left the queen’s section of the palace, but she did notice when Aidan led her past the portal hall and toward his apartments.

“There’s someplace I’d like to show you—if you think we can spare an hour or two. Dina should be all right with Mairead and your brother, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “I think after all we’ve been through in the past few days, we deserve an hour or two off, don’t you?”

“But you still want to check in, don’t you?” He handed her his cell phone. “Speed dial one will ring the house.”

Busted. She grinned and dialed the house, pleased when Wallis immediately put her through to Des, who assured her he was having fun with Dina and in no great rush to leave.
She spoke to her daughter for a moment, hiding her surprise when Dina insisted on talking to Aidan as well. Her only consolation was that the conversation left him looking dazed when he said, “Love you, too, sweeting. We’ll see you in a couple hours.” He blinked rapidly as he flipped his phone shut and slipped it back in the pocket of his jeans.

Elise laughed at his bemused expression. “She already has you totally wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head as they continued walking. “I believe she does. How do you ever manage to say no to her? It’s suddenly occurred to me that enforcing any sort of discipline must be one of the hardest parts about being a parent.”

“It’s tough.” Elise looped her arm around his and squeezed lightly. “You have to remember that it’s usually for her own good. Well, and sometimes it’s to maintain your own sanity, but that’s important too.”

They’d reached the entrance to his apartment and he ushered her inside, raising her curiosity. What was here that he hadn’t shown her?

When he led her to a small, understated portal, she began to understand.

“I wanted you to see my home,” he said as he held her hand and stepped into the inky mist. “The house in Grosse Pointe belongs to Underhill. This apartment is a stopping-off place when I have to be at court, or a way station between my two worlds. But my real home—the place I was raised—is Oakwood and I wanted to show it to you.”

Elise was touched. She squeezed his hand and when her feet touched solid ground, she walked out of the portal and looked around appreciatively. The stone walls of the room were whitewashed and two were hung with medieval tapestries depicting unicorns, dragons and other Underhill animals. The bright jeweled colors hadn’t faded, though Elise knew instinctively they were old. The wall across from the portal held an elegant French provincial writing desk, making the armored guard who sat in front of it look out of place.

“My lord!” The guard, whom Elise recognized, but didn’t know by name, leapt to his feet and bowed. “Miss Sutton. Welcome to Oakwood.”

“Thank you, Philip.” Aidan nodded to the guard. “We’ll be here for an hour or two, in case any messages come in.”

“Of course.” Philip smiled and held open the arched door made of heavy oak planks banded by bronze. “Should I let the kitchen know you’ll want luncheon?”

“No, thanks.” Aidan took Elise’s arm and led her out into what could only be the great hall of a medieval castle. “We’ll stop there on our tour.”

Elise paused and looked around the hall. High timbered ceilings soared over whitewashed stone walls and a smooth flagstone floor. A long table sat on a high dais at one end of the room, while wide double doors forming a pointed arch sealed off the opposite end, flanked by leaded glass windows. Twin staircases rose on either side of the window to open onto wide galleries that ran the length of the great hall. The room they’d come out of was beneath the staircase on one side, and an enormous stone hearth sat in an alcove on the other. Several comfortable-looking leather chairs were clustered around a Persian carpet in front of the fire and Elise giggled as she realized there was a plasma screen TV off to one side. The juxtaposition of modern and medieval was just so…Aidan.

“Well?” Aidan’s voice was soft and sexy as he watched her spin in a circle, taking in the elegant furnishings and the priceless artwork scattered throughout the space. They’d walked to the center of the room and stood beneath an enormous bronze chandelier—the kind that held real candles, not electric lights.

“Wow.” Elise smiled up at him and pointed to the TV. “You get cable here?”

His easy laugh warmed her heart. “No, but you can rig up some appliances to run on magic instead of electricity and sometimes we do watch DVDs.”

She couldn’t resist teasing him some more, because she loved seeing him smile. “So this is home, huh? Just your average, run-of-the-mill castle? Of course in your world, there’ve probably only been a couple generations since this was considered normal.”

“Actually, my grandparents built most of the place. Before them, it was only this hall and nothing more.” His arm slid around her waist as he started walking again, easing her up the room toward the high table. “They added the rest of the castle around it. My parents liked it and never bothered to do more than redecorate a bit here and there, which is what I’ve done as well.”

“Well, I can see why.” She gave in to her body’s urging and leaned into him while they walked, her own arm circling his waist as well. “It’s lovely. Though I think I’d add some sculptures in those corners.” She pointed to the back of the dais. “Maybe some flowers on the tables and on either side of the door.”

“We do have a garden,” he said. “It isn’t as extensive or grand as Meagan’s at Rosemeade, but if you’d like to see it, maybe you can point out which flowers you’d suggest.”

“Sure.” A walk in an actual faerie garden? With a handsome elven lord, no less? What girl could resist that offer?

“Come on, we’ll cut through the kitchens.” He led her up the steps to the platform and through a small archway in the side wall that hadn’t been visible from the floor. Servants’ entrance, she realized, so they could serve the high table without attracting too much attention. A short corridor led to a huge, sunny kitchen that managed to be welcoming and cheerful, even with its stone and heavy-beam construction. Mullioned windows on the back wall let in the bright autumn sunshine, illuminating three women who worked briskly at various tasks—some using magic to accomplish them, such as the one minding something on the black enamel cook stove, and others not, such as another woman kneading dough by hand at a wooden work table.

All activity stopped when Aidan walked into the room.

“My lord!” The woman up to her elbows in bread dough looked up in shock. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I know you weren’t. We’re only here for a passing visit. If there’s enough, though, we’ll eat the midday meal with the staff.”

“Of course.” She bowed over the dough, her hands never stopping, though she cast Elise a speculative glance.

“Thanks, Gladwys.” As he guided Elise around the table, he paused to snatch a couple of apples from a bowl and winked at the cook. “We’ll be in the gardens if anyone is looking for us.”

They exited through a small door in the back wall, into what was clearly the kitchen garden. Fragrant herbs grew in lush beds beneath fruiting apple, pear and cherry trees. Off to one side, neat rows of vegetables grew on either side of the cobblestone path. Aidan handed her one of the purloined apples and she grinned.

“Aren’t there stories warning humans against eating anything in Faerie? This won’t trap me here forever, will it?” They’d walked farther, to where a stone bench sat beneath a grapevine arbor.

“Only if you want it to.” There was an odd hitch in his voice. “But since you ate at the palace yesterday and made it home, I’d guess you’re safe.”

“Ah, so I did.” She took a bite, unsurprised to find it crisp, tart and juicy. “Aidan, there’s something I’ve really been needing to talk to you about.”

“Do you think Dina would like it here?” He ignored her statement and kept walking. They passed through a small, decorative wooden gate that separated the cooking garden from the more formal flower gardens that made up the castle’s yard. Sweeping lawns were framed by beds of colorful and abundant flowers, down to a creek that circled the castle—make that a moat. Beyond the moat, the castle was surrounded by rolling hills covered with towering forest—virgin growth, she guessed and given the name of the estate, they were probably mostly oak.