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  “Salt?” one of them murmured doubtfully, throwing and catching a round case of it.

  A man identical to him grabbed the salt from the air with a shrug. “Why not try it?” he said.

  “It’ll stop the human guards, and you don’t want to kill them anyway—” Alex started. A were with black eyes and a silver mohawk cut him off. “We can kill as many human guards as we want,” he sneered. Red patches appeared on Alex’s cheeks. “We aren’t criminals,” the man continued. “Why should we trust any one of you?”

  His words caused something in Raphael to snap. Technically, he was a criminal, as were the rest of his packmates, but they’d been punished enough. He would trust any of them at his back, and these newcomers were going to have to trust them as well, or the botos would win. Jeremiah would win, and those outcomes were unacceptable to him.

  The man was thrown against a nearby fence, his hands and feet bound by growing vines. Heath helpfully flicked open his Zippo, giving Raphael a flame to work with. He pulled it into a ball, which started growing from his influence but continued on its own. He hovered it a few feet above the highest spike of the were’s mohawk.

  “You don’t have a choice,” Raphael snarled. Soon, the orb would envelop the man. “We have only told you the truth, and will continue to do so. But if you don’t listen, and a single human is killed as a result, I will burn you alive.”

  The sphere expanded; now it was less than an inch away from its target, who ducked his head as far as he could, the back of his neck blistering from the heat. He looked up, meeting Raphael’s eyes. “Tonight, we’ll be equals,” he said.

  The other soldiers murmured their agreement.

  Raphael brought water from the lake, dousing the fire. Drops fell onto the were while the vines unraveled themselves, freeing him. “I’m Tristan,” he said, holding out his hand. Raphael took it and introduced himself and the rest of his pack, excluding Sebastian, who knew most of the soldiers by name.

  “How did you do that? I thought your powers were bound,” Tristan asked, respect lacing his voice.

  Raphael glanced at Sebastian, who inclined his head, indicating Tristan was trustworthy. “I’m mated,” he said.

  Tristan nodded thoughtfully. Having just brought another soldier, Vale turned white, horror filling his expression. “You can’t be,” he rasped. “Jeremiah said—the Elders said…” He trailed off, violently shaking his head. “You should be freed,” Vale whispered darkly.

  “It’s true,” Theo, one of the twins, said decisively. “It’s nonnegotiable too—our mates are not to be harmed. It went into place about a hundred years ago?” He aimed the last statement at his brother.

  “Give or take a few years,” the other twin, Eli, responded.

  Vale drew a hand down his face, gripped the back of his neck, and disappeared. A minute later, he’d brought two female soldiers.

  “Now that you’re all here,” Vale said, addressing the Halifax packmates, “I need you to listen to me. If you see Jeremiah, the lupus dux for the exile clan, do not trust him. Anything he tells you to do, run it by me first. I’m bringing the Elders here.” His face was a mask of sorrow. “I’ve seen enough to know he has betrayed that which we hold most dear.” Vale met Raphael’s eyes. “Is Mary your mate?”

  Raphael nodded shortly, violently subduing the urge to go for the other man’s throat. How in the hell did Vale know about Mary?

  Vale cursed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his sadness genuine. “Jeremiah has made her your thysía.” With those words, he disappeared. They meant nothing to Raphael—he’d never heard the term before.

  “What did that mean?” he asked sharply. From everyone else’s stricken expressions, he knew it was bad news.

  Heath let released a breath. “It means she’s being executed for us,” he said.

  Red coated Raphael’s vision. When he yelled, it was guttural, unnatural. Ears bled around him.

  “He’s mated to a banshee?” someone muttered.

  Raphael didn’t wait for the others. Rage controlled him, coloring everything he saw. He marched for the mansion, pulling out his machete as he went.

  Chapter 13

  “They’ve stayed out in Lakeview for a while,” Mary said, watching the unmoving dot that represented Aiyanna’s car. It was parked in a nice neighborhood close to the one she’d grown up in. “That must be where they took Sophia.”

  Aiyanna murmured in agreement. “We’re gone,” she said to Wish and Leila, her voice soft enough not to wake Molly.

  “Don’t get yourselves killed,” Wish said sternly, handing them a heavy bag of salt. Leila hugged Aiyanna, then Mary. Go kick some ass, she signed, smiling slightly. She narrowed her eyes at them. And next time let me come with you.

  “If you don’t have an exam,” Mary promised, hugging her back.

  They took Wish’s Smart Car out by the lake, puzzling over the lack of movement in the area. It was early summer in the South; people should have been out. Aiyanna pursed her lips, turning another corner to see another dead street. “Don’t people live here?” she asked.

  Mary was just as dumbfounded. “It’s one of the safest places to live,” she murmured, disbelieving. “The botos must have gone to see their neighbors.”

  They parked by Aiyanna’s car and an almost pristine G-Wagon Mary had seen near the firehouse, the only cars on the street. None of the streetlights worked, cloaking the block in darkness. It was so quiet Mary could hear the lake under the restrained voices belonging to a darkly-clad group. As a unit they stalked down a driveway, toward the home’s backyard.

  “I see Cael.” Aiyanna’s eyes glowed in the darkness. “Those are our wolves, with some add-ons.”

  “Raphael isn’t with them, is he?” Mary thought out loud. She didn’t sense his presence among the group, felt no tug toward any of its members.

  “No,” Aiyanna confirmed.

  So cats can see in the dark. She wondered where Raphael was. Was he safe? Why had he left his pack?

  Cael and a man Mary would have considered pretty if not for his silver mohawk spotted them at the same time. The man growled, freeing dangerously sharp claws that made Mary itch to run in another direction, but Cael knocked him back with a hard shove to his windpipe, leaving the man sputtering for air.

  Mary could have sworn she heard him snarl, “Don’t ever threaten her.” Her thoughts were confirmed with one glance at Aiyanna, whose smile rivaled the Cheshire cat’s.

  “What are you doing here?” Heath demanded, leveling a frown at Mary.

  “I only said I would stay away from Thump,” she said truthfully. “Where’s Raphael?”

  A man standing next to an exact copy of himself jerked a thumb toward the lake. Mary started in that direction, stealth be damned. If Raphael was alone, she couldn’t waste any time.

  It was only he and Sophia against an unknown number of humans and botos—if backup didn’t come for them, fast, Raphael, Sophia, and innocent humans would die.

  Someone cursed behind her. “Cover her,” Heath commanded. The others’ footsteps quickening to keep her pace, Mary went in the direction the twin had pointed out. Two backyards and an alley later, she stood before a gaudy mansion guarded by human men holding large guns. An intricate fountain where two dolphins spat color-changing water from their crossed mouths loomed behind the guards.

  The stained glass front door gaped open.

  Mary ran toward it, belatedly noticing a guard aiming his gun at her. Just as she was about to scream, at least temporarily incapacitating all the humans, he was taken to the ground by an unfamiliar werewolf. From what she could hear around her, the rest of the guards met the same fate. She focused on making it inside the house, relieved no guns were fired.

  Fisting a handful of salt in her purse, she entered the massive foyer overshadowed by a glittering chandelier. The house was dimly-lit but impeccably furnished. From the Persian rugs to the dark-hued paintings on the wall, Mary had no doubt the same interior designer behind Richa
rd’s house was responsible for this one too. The light reflected by the chandelier bounced along the walls. Someone was moving around upstairs.

  Raphael.

  Mary jogged up the curving grand staircase, wondering how such a heavily guarded house could seem so devoid of life. A glance over her shoulder revealed Cael and Aiyanna close behind.

  At the top of the stairs, she noticed a human hiding behind a bookcase, his gun, equipped by a bulbous silencer, readied to shoot when she passed by. She stopped, waited for him to lean out to see why her footsteps halted, and threw a handful of salt into his face, bringing him to his knees, shaking and whimpering with fear.

  Mary’s heart went out to him, but Raphael was the center of her concern, closely followed by the brave Sophia. If anything had happened to her in the short time she’d been here, Raphael and the rest of his clan would never be able to forgive themselves.

  Light poured out from the cracks in the doorways that lined a long corridor. A man slammed one of the doors open and stumbled into the hall, his black eyes furious. Not human. Boto. She’d seen him at least two of Richard’s dinner parties, but doubted he would remember her. He wasn’t one of the men who’d escaped with Richard the last night she’d worked for the horrible creature.

  When he saw Mary and Aiyanna his anger lessened, only to come back in full force as soon as he realized Cael was with them. He held out his hands. For the second time that week, Mary felt as if something was close to her, trying to touch her, but a barrier blocked the contact.

  “You did not just try to screw with my head!” It was the only warning Aiyanna gave before she went wompus on the man, slamming her paws into his chest and throwing him to the ground. One deep slash at his throat, and he was dead.

  Still a panther, Aiyanna carefully wiped her claws on his shirt before changing back to her human form. She spat on the boto as she stepped over his body. As soon as she looked away, Cael smiled. Mary shook her head, stopping in front of the doorway the boto came from. No one was in the room, but its walls were covered in monitors. The boto Aiyanna killed had been watching the rest of the house. The other botos, humans and werewolves were depicted in low-quality black and white.

  Some monitors displayed empty rooms. Others showed a human woman or two lying docile in chains. Two of them caught Mary’s interest: one where Raphael was holding two men’s heads and stalking menacingly toward another—Richard! In a different area of the mansion, one with better lighting, a seemingly unharmed Sophia spoke with Jeremiah, who gestured wildly.

  Apparently, the rest of Raphael’s pack and those who came to help them hadn’t struggled with the human guards. In every monitor where Mary saw them, the only moving beings were weres.

  “I’m going after Raphael.” Mary pointed to the monitor labeled BASEMENT. She indicated to Sophia’s screen. “You two should go check on her; I don’t trust Jeremiah not to hurt her.”

  Cael’s eyes darkened. “I don’t either,” he murmured, nudging Aiyanna’s shoulder with his own. “Come with me.” Aiyanna raised an eyebrow at Mary before following him from the room, leaving Mary alone.

  She more carefully analyzed the rooms depicted, trying to better learn the layout of the house. Once she was more confident in her ability to find Raphael without getting lost in the monstrosity, she took the staircase back to the foyer, finding another narrower staircase leading to the basement.

  Eerie blue light reflected onto the walls, similar to that of a lit pool at night. Soon Mary saw why. The floors were made of glass, water flowing underneath it. Each room she passed had narrow walkways made from the glass, with the vast majority of the space uncovered, the water spilling over the glass, licking the walls.

  Thinking of the women she’d seen in chains, Mary threw handfuls of salt into the water as she passed by.

  She could see Raphael beyond a set of open double doors at the end of the short hall. The blue light caused him to look as if he was covered in royal purple ink, but she knew it was blood. He’d let go of the heads; his fists were clenched, blood dripping from them, his legs apart and slightly bent. He was a hairsbreadth away from making a lethal strike, but restrained himself.

  Why?

  Even she wouldn’t hesitate to kill Richard. From the lives it would save, there was no moral dilemma in her mind.

  Quiet footsteps sounded behind her. She turned to see a tan elderly man with a shock of messy white hair approaching. The strength in his gait belied his age; considering him weak would be a mistake. She flicked salt at him, but he only smiled, covered his mouth with his index finger and used it to point at Raphael. Judging he wasn’t a threat but unwilling to give him her back, Mary waited for him to stand beside her.

  “Let’s watch,” he said without looking at her, his bright blue gaze on Raphael. His voice was surprisingly strong. “We may not need to intervene.”

  “Are you a werewolf?” she asked, eyeing him closely. Elderly or not, she wouldn’t let him intervene if it meant harming Raphael.

  He grinned. “Oh yes, I’m a werewolf,” he answered, his lip continuing to curl up as if it were the most amusing question he’d ever heard. “You must be the banshee.”

  Mary nodded. I guess “the banshee” is better than “screamer,” she mused.

  “You’re mortal?”

  “Yes,” Mary answered. When were banshees immortal?

  “Good,” the man said decisively. He gave her a satisfied nod before turning to Raphael again.

  Silently, they moved into the doorway. Raphael’s stance hadn’t changed. His back to them, he flexed his hands before clenching them again, allowing Mary to see that much of the blood on his hands was his own, caused by his claws digging into his palms.

  She didn’t move from her place. She didn’t want to distract him, but desperately wished to help. Across the room Richard was pressed into a wall, held by invisible hands. Like those that let me into the firehouse garage. Raphael had Richard at his mercy. The heads of the other two men who’d been there the night Gaspar had stabbed her lay forgotten on the glass floor.

  “Tell me where the rest of the women are,” Raphael said, his voice lower, deadlier than Mary had ever heard it.

  “If I did that you would kill me.” Blood dripped from Richard’s smiling mouth.

  “You’ll die either way,” Raphael snarled. “It will be quicker and less painful if you tell me where we can find them.”

  “If you keep threatening me, they will all die of starvation.” Somehow, Richard had given himself the upper hand.

  Richard had put Raphael in an impossible position. Mary wanted to kill him with her bare hands, because she knew Raphael wouldn’t touch him if it meant the death of innocent women.

  Raphael slowly lowered Richard to the ground. The boto’s hands moved behind his back until his wrists touched. Recognizing the disturbed air, Mary realized the ability she had came from Raphael. He was the one with real power, and her amazing man was using it to help the defenseless. Pride rushed through her.

  “What do you want?” Raphael snapped.

  “Freedom,” Richard said simply. Despite his bound hands, his expression was utterly smug with the knowledge that Raphael would give him exactly that.

  For the sake of the women, Mary didn’t doubt he would.

  The elderly man cleared his throat, murmuring, “I believe now is the time for us to butt in,” so only Mary could hear. In a few long strides he stood before a bemused Raphael, holding out his hand. “Nathaniel,” he said briskly, “and I know who you are, as well as who your lady is.” He gestured to Mary, who’d been too dumbfounded to move.

  She took her place at Raphael’s side, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She took his hand as gently as she could.

  He barely seemed to register her presence.

  “I believe a blood oath is needed here,” Nathaniel said, producing a knife. He gave Richard a hard look, one Mary was glad she hadn’t received from him. No, she wouldn’t be underestimating that were.

  �
��You will both be bound by your oath. To break it will mean death.” Nathaniel handed the knife to Raphael.

  “If I allow you to live and go free, in exchange you will tell me exactly where anyone you have taken or influenced is being kept.” Raphael’s statement included potentially dangerous men and any nonhumans the botos may have kidnaped. A pleased gleam entered Nathaniel’s eyes.

  Raphael simply looked more furious than Mary had ever seen him. Tendons and veins stood against his skin. His muscles bulged; his jaw was a rigid line highlighting bared teeth. Not even the water’s reflection drifting over his dark skin tempered his lethal appearance.

  “I agree to those terms, so long as you don’t touch me.” Richard spat blood on the floor, his smile red. He looked like an entirely different man from Mary’s old boss; the seams of his tailored suit were torn and frayed, his carefully combed hair a matted mess. Mary took a second look—his hair was matted away from a hole in his head. Richard had a blowhole only a shade or two darker than his black hair.

  How did I not notice that?

  Botos were dolphins—parasitic, shapeshifting, freshwater dolphins.

  “Agreed.” Raphael’s response was so guttural, Mary could barely understand him. He slashed his hand and handed the knife to Richard, who did the same. They shook on the agreement briefly, their blood mingling just long enough for the oath to hold.

  Raphael drew away first, his disgust toward Richard apparent.

  Richard quickly rattled off four addresses. Two of them were on streets named for birds, indicating the houses were within blocks of where they currently stood. The other two were somewhat nearby, one in Tremé and the other in Mid-City.

  It was over; everyone the botos had harmed would be safe now.

  Richard lunged at Raphael, the dagger back in his hand. Before it could hit its mark a shield of ice formed between them. The knife lodged in the ice, useless. Raphael was shaking, he wanted to hurt the boto so badly. But he kept his hands to himself, allowing the ice and the blade to fall to the ground, still intact.