Skin Deep (28 page)

"Hello, Kailin. Have you finally come to your senses?" My father leaned forward, settling his elbows on his oak desk and steepling his fingers.

"
I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean, Father." I knew exactly what he meant and it made my blood simmer with fury. I had to tamp it down or my Alpha father would know exactly what I felt soon enough.

"
What I mean is have you finally realized that home is where you belong and that you should end this silly nonsense of staying in Chicago?" His voice was clipped, cool as always. Not a hint of emotion.

"
No, Father. Actually I’m very happy there. I’m just here to find out if Iain briefed you on our problem. And if you have heard anything yet from Greer."

"
Yes Iain has told me of our problem." He sighed and I swallowed my shock. I’d expected him to brush it off as my problem, not his. "Why don’t you give me your first hand version of what’s happened."

My Father had just done something so completely out of character; he’d refrained from contradicting me. And now he wants me to tell him my story. Shock didn’t even begin to describe my emotions. But I began my story, starting with a description of the corpse and the horrific injuries he had suffered at the hands of his murderer. I’d barely completed my description of the Walkers claw-tipped fingers when he turned away and I knew he meant to hide his reaction. Not fast enough. I'd seen the recognition flare in those black depths. As if he'd been expecting something like this to happen for so long he'd eventually forgotten about it, and I’d caught him by surprise.

The words tripped off my tongue so easily he would be forgiven had he dismissed the entire debacle as a figment of my crazy imagination. Granted I gave him the watered down version, leaving out my encounter with Logan, while deliberately detailing my shooting and the second attempt on my life yesterday afternoon. I watched him, perversely studying his expression for any indication of shock or fear for my safety. But I needn't have bothered. His stony facade revealed none.

His back was rigid as he stared out the window. The weather was equally troubled. Obese clouds hovering out west had finally pooled directly overhead, bright flashes lit the dark mass from the inside: converging above us as if drawn to the equally dark turmoil in the room.

Had I dared, I would’ve been tapping my foot on the polished oak floor while I waited. My teeth were beginning to ache again. I concentrated on forcing my jaws to relax, instead of watching the mahogany clock on the mantelpiece kindly ticking away the moments of my life.

I gritted my teeth again. Blast it. I hated waiting for him, hated having to return to him for help. Knowing he would see this as a sign of weakness, as proof I was unable to make it on my own in the big, and Human world.

The ache in my jaw was answered by an ache of equal proportion in my shoulder. Though now fully healed, the knife wound in my back still throbbed, as if a thousand tiny chainsaw-wielding loggers had converged on the flesh around the wound, merrily stabbing away at my body. A brutal reminder of how near I'd come to crossing the next threshold. I rolled my shoulder slowly, wincing as it completed the revolution, trying to ease the tension around the damaged muscles.

Looking up I saw my father watching me, although his eyes were far away, mulling on a thought. It had grown so dark outside; the entire room was now reflected in the shiny panes, a living mosaic catching the flames as they danced, reflecting the two occupants who gave no indication they were blood kin. No affection even flickered in my father's eyes, nor in the set of his shoulders.

"What's going on?" My eyes narrowed on him. I was damned if I hadn't seen a flash of guilt color his eyes. He'd covered it fast but not so fast that I’d missed it.

With a sigh he sank into his chair, safely on the other side of the huge oak desk. He lifted an antique gold Parker from its case. He never actually used the pens; the refills were impossible to find anymore. Now he snaked it in and out of his fingers, finding something to focus his attention on. Something besides me, that is.

Okay, get a grip. You didn't come here for a family reunion. Not like you expected hugs and kisses and a welcome home party. Suck it up.

When he did answer I was surprised. I'd half expected to be banished to my room for the folly of pushing him for an answer.

"I’d hoped there would never come a time that I would have to tell you this." He swallowed, and it looked to me like he was finding this all too difficult.

I didn't answer, for fear any interruption would cause him to stop and reconsider. Besides, some tiny part of me relished seeing the man reduced to an uncertain and troubled mortal. He'd always seemed to me so far beyond real. Unattainable, incomprehensible.

"What I regret is…the last thing I expected was for this mess to end up on your doorstep."

My turn to swallow. Irritation felt like a ball of scratchy twine stuck in my throat. I risked my life almost daily, and he had no freaking' idea. As if I couldn't take care of myself. I couldn't control my expression of disbelief.

"Did you think I would’ve let you go, had I not preferred it?" The smile curving his mouth was cool and arrogant.

I clamped my mouth shut, only because I felt the inside of my lip quiver slightly. I'd walked straight into a minefield of pain filled memories that I'd been safely guarded against in the last two years. I would wait only until he was done talking, then I was leaving.

"I see you have learned the wisdom of recognizing when to back down." I refused to rise to the bait, paused to wonder why he wasted time in the baiting. "There is something you should’ve been told a long time ago. When you left, it seemed moot. But, considering the information you have brought to me, it is time."

He was prolonging the telling - I was sure of it.

"I know who killed this man."

I said nothing, leaving it to him to fill the deep silences in the now darkened room. Along the wall, the fire still crackled bright and merry, at odds with the not-so-merry emotions I was feeling. An old desk lamp cast feeble light onto the desk between us, throwing eerie shadows upon us.

In that instant, my father seemed an old and weary man.

"The man you are looking for is Niko. I'm quite sure of it."

"Niko?" I was a bit slow to catch on, but I got there eventually as the look on my father's face was a mixture of pain and shame. "You mean
Uncle
Niko? Your brother?"

My father leaned back into his chair, and the sigh he released was clearly one of relief.

"Niko is Pariah."

Corin's words assaulted me in both body and mind.

"Why have you never told me this?" Before I could control my tongue, the petulant teenager took a step forward. "Am I the only one who doesn't know?"

Wishing I could take the outburst back, I rose and walked to the window.

"Nobody else knows about Niko, only Iain."

I found no comfort in those words. In fact I found them harder to believe than if I was really the only one not privy to the knowledge.

The stubborn set of my shoulders must have given Corin some idea how I was feeling. All the issues I had with my father came tumbling back onto those stiff shoulders. I'd left because of it, and here I was, barely back for half an hour and already I was drowning in an abyss of emotional torment.

For once Corin gave me space to calm down.

"So what do we do? Do you have any idea where he could be holed up? Where he could be stashing his victims until he's done with them?"

"No. I wish I knew." Corin ran a hand over a haggard face, a vain attempt to wipe away the frustration embedded in it. "We've been trying to find him this past year."

"Why is Uncle Niko doing this? What's his motive?"

"I wish I knew. Your uncle has always been unpredictable." He shrugged, but it was far from non-committal. His worry was clear in the defeated sag of his shoulders.

"Eh? Unpredictable like trying to kill his own niece?" I blurted, still pissed that my own uncle had his henchmen out to get me.

"Kailin, I'm pretty sure Niko wouldn't deliberately harm you."

"But you don't know that for sure do you?"

He didn't need to answer.

***

All in all, the visit with my father had been fruitful. Not exactly successful though, since I left with one bit of information I wished I'd never known.

My uncle who was trying to kill me.

Well he ain't gonna get the chance. Not if I have anything to say about it.

My mind was on my father and his tumultuous revelations. I used the fire escape and entered the apartment, both feet landing inside the room.

Something large and heavy, reeking of damp fur, slammed into me, throwing me against the wall, so hard I heard the red bricks crack.

The imprint of rough brick dented the back of my skull. The skin broke beneath two sets of razor-sharp claws. The world tilted and my vision began to darken as I slid to the floor. I almost passed out.

Almost. The wretched wolf stood over me, grinning. I scented hunger on him as he licked his jaws. The stench of blood enfolded me and I winced at the sting where his claws had ripped at me.

This business of getting hurt was seriously pissing me off.

My Panther keened within me and I gave in – freed the claws at my fingertips and sideswiped the beast, gouging the side of his face and jaw, ripping the skin with four deep slashes. The force of my blow threw him aside and he skittered across the floor, claws scrabbling for purchase, whimpering.

As he went he pawed at his face, wiping at the skin hanging from his jaw. He wasn't drooling any longer.

From the back of the room a golden blur raced at me, a Lynx Walker in full animal form, skidding on the shiny floors and bouncing off the concrete columns dotting my loft. My claws lengthened, sharpened. I was ready to do more damage.

Seemed, whoever they were, they were not going to allow me the bliss of revenge. While my attention had remained focused on the approaching brown blur of Lynx, another of the intruders approached on a blind side.

A blow to the side of my head had me skimming the edge of unconsciousness. Strong, large hands grabbed my arm, lifted me off the floor. My entire weight rested on the joint of my shoulder and it stung as the ball began to tear itself away from the socket inch by agonizing inch.

I was grateful for the pain - it served to bring me back to my senses. And make me angry. Furious. I turned my head to get a look at my attacker.

The briefest of views gave me an impression of a heavy beard, large jowls and a well-padded abdomen; a vision of a Viking turned logger complete with checkered shirt and workers boots.

Then, knuckle and bone connected with my jaw so hard it sent my neck twisting in the opposite direction. I heard an ominous crick and hoped it came from the bones in his fingers and not my neck.

Staggering backward I hoped there wouldn't be too much of this. I bruised easily, not to mention I’d had my fair share of bloodletting physical damage in the last few days. Besides, my Panther wanted out. Pain incited the animal inside me to stop the agony, and wreak vengeance. Although my Panther side was a part of me, it had a mother’s instinct as with most female felines. Her desire to protect and avenge was strong. Copper spiked my tongue as blood leaked into my mouth from little cuts where my teeth had slit the inside of my cheek.

The sharpness of those teeth against my tongue brought me to my senses and I forced my Panther down, I needed to find the right moment to change.

From my new position, flat on my back on the floor with a heavy booted foot placed on my fragile wrist, I saw my attackers for the first time. There were three of them. Five if you counted the two Walkers in animal form, a wolf and the Lynx, who paced this way and that, as if enclosed within an invisible cage.

Both animals were collared, a pure silver band encircling their necks. From my position had a clear view of evenly spaced spikes on the inside of the collars. Spikes which, no doubt, dug into their necks preventing them from transforming back into their Human skin. They'd brought out the big guns.

I could smell the dank fur, the heat of their crazed need to kill. Great sticky globs of saliva dribbled from their toothy jaws and fell onto my polished floors. They hungered for a taste of flesh. These creatures were too far gone for me to bargain with. Fear washed over me. Fear for what my attackers intended for me. Fear for the captivity of the two captive Walkers, held in Change by the collars of silver.

The Viking who'd used me as a punching bag loomed before me. He leaned down and grabbed me by the arm - this time the uninjured one. I felt blessed. He'd stayed away from the hair. He lifted me to stand on feet still rubbery from the first blow to my head.

I scanned the room eyeing my unwelcome guests. The Walker on my left was so unlike the Viking as to be amusing. Skinny, nervous and looking like a puff of air would fell him. His dark eyes darted back and forth between me and his leader, as if he wasn't sure who was more unpredictable or dangerous.

The one female stared at me from behind a veil of garish red hair. The light glinted off the piercings in her eyebrows, lips and nose. They were all Cougar walkers, which meant they were powerful killing machines. Even so, my mind raced to gauge my chances at escaping.