Wild Wolf

“We aren’t dreaming, are we?”

  Graham shook his head. “Don’t think so. It feels real, smells too real. That’s good.”

  “Good? Why good?”

  He gave her a grim smile. “Because if Oison shows up, this time I’ll kill him for real.”

  Misty put her hand on his, finding his skin fever hot. “We need to fix you. You’ll die like this.”

  “Not if I kill the Fae first.”

  “But what if even that doesn’t release you from the spell? I never got to tell you about Ben.”

  “Ben?” Graham asked sharply. “Who’s Ben?”

  Misty related what had happened the afternoon before, Paul bringing Ben to her office and what Ben had said.

  Graham listened, eyes narrowing. “Like I said, who the hell is Ben?” he asked when she finished.

  “I don’t know, but if he has a legitimate way of curing you, I’m willing to listen to him.”

  Graham gave her a dark look. “You’re too trusting. How do you know he wasn’t Fae?”

  Misty shrugged. “He didn’t look Fae. Not like the hiker, anyway. Or like Reid.”

  “Yeah, well, half Fae can look very human and be just as deadly, rotten, jerk-ass bastards.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know,” Misty said, holding on to her patience. “I asked Cassidy to have Diego check him out, but I haven’t heard back yet.”

  “And it’s not like I have a cell phone on me now,” Graham rumbled. “You didn’t happen to bring one, did you?”

  “I left it at your house,” Misty said. “Anyway, they didn’t work out here before.”

  “Before, we were in the desert north of Las Vegas. Are we there now?”

  “Have you tried to find out?”

  “Look around you,” Graham said. “See a way out?”

  When Misty had been in this cave before, she’d approached the fountain from the entrance between the rocks, then turned around and went back the way she’d come. But the cave was gigantic. She couldn’t tell if she was in the same place she’d been before or not.

  “How did we get in here?” she asked. “You can’t expect me to believe Shifters dug a basement that leads fifty miles out of town.”

  “No.” Graham tilted his head to gaze at the ceiling, which was lost in darkness. “I think it’s on a ley line.”

  “A what line . . . ?”

  “Ley line,” Graham said. “Magical lines that radiate around the world, many with gateways to Faerie. The sucky thing is, Shiftertowns are sometimes built on ley lines. The Austin Shiftertown has one. My Shiftertown in Elko didn’t, but Bowman’s in North Carolina does. I didn’t think the Vegas one did; but I know there’s a ley line up by Hoover Dam. Probably the same one or a branch of it.”

  Misty listened in surprise. “Why would Shifters build on the ley lines if they’re gates to Faerie? I thought you hated the Fae.”

  Graham moved his gaze to her, while he absently petted the cubs, who were still huddled against him. “We didn’t build the Shiftertowns, did we? We were sent to them. Not our choice. Probably another Fae conspiracy—they’ve been trying from the beginning to make Shifters slaves to them. But I’m not letting Dougal or these little guys ever come under the Fae. Fae are cruel, evil shits, and we should eradicate them.”

  “I am pained to hear it.”

  Misty jumped. The tall Fae who’d been the hiker stood behind Graham, a long sword in his hands. He hadn’t been there a moment ago, and he hadn’t appeared with a bang or even a faint sparkle. One moment he’d not been there, and this moment, he was.

  The cubs were on their feet. But instead of cringing against Graham, they were snapping and snarling at Oison.

  Graham let out a sudden groan and clamped his hand to his side, right where he’d been shot. To Misty’s horror, the wound began to flow with blood. Graham sat in silence after the first grunt of pain, but his face lost color as the blood poured out.

  Misty was on her feet. “Stop it!”

  “He was only cured of the wound because of me,” Oison said calmly. “I can reverse the spell anytime I wish.”

  “Wasn’t a cure,” Graham said through his teeth. “A curse, more like it.”

  “I helped you, Shifter,” Oison said. “I took away the pain. I stopped the bleeding and ensured you didn’t take sick. That is not a curse. That is me helping the being I wish to see at my side. What I did is no different from you keeping your nephew safe from the wolves who torment him, or the cubs from predators. I look after my own.”

  “Don’t even . . .” Graham rose to his feet, holding his side all the while. It pained him to stand, but he shook off Misty’s hand and got himself upright. “Don’t pretend you’re my pack leader or anything like it. You know damn all about being a leader.”

  “And you know everything about it, which is why I want you.”

  Graham dragged in a breath. “Well, I don’t want you, asshole.”

  Graham changed to his wolf so suddenly Misty blinked, and at the same time he leapt at Oison. Oison lifted his sword, and brought it down . . .

  “No!” Misty screamed. She knocked into Graham. She couldn’t impact much of his momentum, but she managed to change his path so the sword didn’t reach him. The blade scraped across Misty’s side as Oison swung it, biting deep before the Fae yanked it back.

  She heard snarling, huge and ferocious from Graham, small and vicious from the cubs. Then pain. Nothing but pain.

  It flooded her body, blotting out all sight, all sound, all other feeling. She must have fallen, but Misty didn’t register it, only found herself facedown on shining black rock. She heard cries of agony she didn’t realize she was making.

  Kyle licked her nose, yipping in distress. Graham was roaring, his blood splashing down on her, or maybe that was her blood. The pain was complete, erasing past and future, any pleasure Misty had ever experienced. There was nothing but hurting, and she’d never feel anything but pain again.

  The Fae shouted, and dimly Misty heard a clatter of his sword. Graham’s snarling went on, and then his body landed next to hers, human once more, blood pouring out of him. He got to his hands and knees and put his strong hand on her head.

  “Misty. Stay with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Misty said. Or thought she said.

  Kyle left off licking her face. He joined Matt, the two of them bracing themselves in front of Oison, who was still standing, minus his sword. Oison looked angry. He pointed at them, as he had in the dream.

  “No,” Misty whispered.

  She had no clue what Oison’s pointing finger could do—shoot fire? Cast another spell? Move back and forth while he admonished them? Misty wanted to claw her way to the cubs, to protect them, but she couldn’t move.

  Graham was moving instead. He was shifting as he dragged himself to the cubs, leaving a trail of blood smeared on the polished black floor. He leapt at Oison, his mouth wide, teeth bared. Oison spun out of his way nimbly, but Graham followed him with great agility, his claws going for Oison’s throat.

  Oison dropped, rolled across the ground, and came up with his sword in his hand. The blade hummed, runes on it glowing like fire.

  He shouted a word, pointing the sword at Graham. Graham fell in midair, his body thumping to the rock floor with an awful sound. The cubs ran to him, positioning themselves on either side of him, howling furiously.

  Oison kept shouting words Misty didn’t understand. Graham was silent, but he rocked in pain. The intensity of the pain came to Misty as though threads connected her with Graham, squeezing her heart, making her ache for him.

  She could stop this. She could kill Oison . . . somehow. If only she could get to her feet.

  Matt darted out and sank his teeth into Oison’s boot. The Fae snarled and brought his sword down toward Matt. Kyle howled.

  Misty heard a popping
sound, and a wiry hand closed over Oison’s wrist. The chain mail shattered, and Oison dropped his sword again. Oison swung around, face dark with rage, to face a man as tall as he was but his opposite—dark-skinned to his pale, black-haired to his white. Only their eyes were the same, black voids into nothing.

  Reid. The name whispered through Misty’s mind.

  Dougal, looking terrified, was right behind Reid. Dougal ran to Graham, but Graham gave a loud growl, and Dougal straightened up and hurried to Misty. “You okay, Misty? Can you get up?”

  Misty could only look at him, her pain so strong even moving her eyes hurt. Dougal looked lost, not knowing what to do.

  Reid, on the other hand, had shoved Oison away from the little group, and was grappling with him by the fountain. The cubs still yapped and growled, but they’d positioned themselves between the fight and Graham and Misty, as though determined to guard the fallen.

  Reid raised a weapon—a tire iron, Misty’s foggy brain registered. He brought it down on Oison, not hitting him, but pressing it onto Oison’s bare skin.

  Whatever was supposed to happen, Misty didn’t know. Reid looked surprised when Oison turned and took the tire iron in both hands, tugging it away from Reid. Oison held it up, laughing, chanting words Misty didn’t understand.

  Reid took a step back, scowling. The two Fae looked so different and yet the same—one in medieval-looking chain mail and silver cloak, Reid in jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers.

  Reid raised his hands, clenched them, and shouted in a guttural language. Oison’s smile evaporated as the iron bar in his hands started to bend, then undulate, then came apart into dozens of tiny fragments.

  These fragments slid out of Oison’s hands, paused in midair, then dove at Oison like a swarm of ferocious bees. The iron particles slammed into the Fae’s face and neck, cutting into him anywhere the chain mail didn’t cover.

  Oison clawed at his face. Reid spun away from him and sprinted for Misty. He grabbed one cub by the scruff of the neck, fell on his knees beside Misty, and wrapped his other arm around her.

  Misty screamed in pain, and then the cave went away. She was lying back in the basement, under the opening to the outside world, the warm Las Vegas sunshine touching her like a lover’s caress.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "You have to save her,” Graham said. He was in excruciating pain himself and could barely get the words out, but he didn’t care.

  Misty lay on his bed, her eyelids fluttering as she moved into and out of consciousness. Reid stood on one side of her, Neal Ingram, the Guardian, on the other, and they both looked grim.

  Reid, who possessed the very helpful skill of teleporting, had gotten them out of the cave. He’d taken Misty first with one cub then popped back moments later for Dougal and the second cub.

  Reid had returned a final time for Graham just as Oison was struggling up and groping for his sword. Oison’s face and neck had run with blood, the Fae looking as though he’d been stung by a thousand hornets. Graham had wished he didn’t hurt so bad so he could laugh.

  Reid had come in with a bang, grabbed Graham, and popped them both out again.

  Graham knew they’d never have survived without Reid. Which sucked, because now he owed Reid a debt. A big one.

  But Misty came first. “Can you fix her?” Graham asked Neal, who had some skill in healing. Graham didn’t like the presence of Neal’s sword, which leaned in the corner, glinting softly in the afternoon sunlight. The Guardian’s sword turned dead or dying Shifters to dust, sending their souls to the Summerland. Neal wouldn’t use it on Misty, she being human, but the reminder of loss was sharp.

  “I don’t know,” Neal said. “This is a Fae wound, from a Fae sword. Healing her will be different from stitching her up and putting a bandage on her.”

  “But you’ll fix her,” Graham repeated in a hard voice.

  “What about you?” Neal looked at the makeshift bandage wrapped around Graham’s bare side, which was already stained with blood. “You need a healer.”

  “Misty first. She can’t die.”

  She couldn’t. Graham touched her white skin, his heart burning when her eyes flickered. She wasn’t waking up, but not sleeping either.

  Reid said, “A human hospital won’t be able to help her.”

  “But you can, right?” Graham demanded. “You’re Fae. You made iron slivers go into Oison. Can you counteract magic from a Fae sword?”

  Graham knew he was babbling, but watching Misty lie in his bed, pale and sweating, made him sick. His fault. Oison had wanted Graham, and Misty had gotten caught in between.

  Neal seemed to understand. His voice was gentle, without its usual Lupine growl. “The answer is, we don’t know.”

  “Well, what the hell good are you, then?”

  Reid and Neal glanced at each other, neither taking offense. Graham was terrified, and he knew Neal smelled that. Neal would also smell his weakness, plus the Fae curse that was killing him.

  “The Guardian’s mate in the Austin Shiftertown,” Neal said. “She’s a healer. I’ve already called her.”

  “She’s half Fae, right?” Graham stopped and took a breath as more pain flashed through his side. “That’s all we need, more effing Fae.”

  Neal didn’t answer. There was no reason to. The woman would come, and Graham wouldn’t stop her having a look at Misty. Graham knew things were bad when he would welcome a Fae-blood’s help.

  “Why don’t you sit down until she comes?” Reid said. “You can’t do anything for Misty standing over her, breathing on her.”

  “Shut it, Fae. She’s my mate.”

  Neal blinked, turned his head, and pinned Graham with a Shifter stare. Guardians could get away with looking alphas in the eye, because Guardians were a whole other hierarchy of Shifters. They followed the dominance line of their packs and clans, but they had their own rules, and they got away with shit no other Shifter did.

  Graham had no idea why he’d blurted out that Misty was his mate. Except that it was true. Misty was the mate of his heart. He knew it. His heart knew it. His brain just needed to catch up.

  “You’ve mate-claimed her?” Neal asked.

  “Yes. Right now. I claim her as mate, under the sun, the Father God, and in front of witnesses. That would be you and Reid.”

  Neal gave Graham the ghost of a smile. The man was taciturn—hell, dead silent most of the time. But right now he looked almost amused.

  “The Goddess’s blessing on you,” Neal said. “Both of you. Your Lupines are going to be pissed off.”

  “They can bite me.”

  Another twitch of lips from Neal. “They probably will.”

  “You still need to lie down,” Reid said, giving Graham a scowl. “You have a gunshot wound, freshly reopened. Dying of it won’t help Misty.”

  “If I lie down, I’ll sleep,” Graham said. “If I sleep, I’ll dream, and Oison will be there. Who the hell knows what he can do to me then?”

  “Have you tried surrounding yourself with iron?” Reid asked.

  “Our whole lives are surrounded by iron,” Graham said. “Or steel. Doesn’t seem to help, does it? Besides, you smacked him with the tire iron, and he laughed at you. He shouldn’t have been able to grab that bar, but he did. He was only hurt by it because you turned it into bullets. How did you do that, by the way?”

  “I’m an ironmaster,” Reid said. “At least, I was in Faerie. That cave is a little piece of Faerie, so I could work my magic there. I can make iron do whatever I want in Faerie. That’s one reason the hoch alfar hate the dokk alfar.”

  “I bet there’s more to it than that,” Graham said. “What I don’t get is how we got there. I wasn’t asleep. And you teleported to it. I thought you had to see a place before you could teleport there. But you never said you’d been to the cave.”

  “I hadn’t,” Reid said. “I d
o have to see a place, yes—unless I’m moving along a ley line. Then I follow the ley line’s pull. Several ley lines intersect in that basement, I discovered. I suggest you seal it up and build the house elsewhere.”

  Ideas came together in Graham’s head. “When the cubs disappeared down there, they must have followed a ley line that came out . . . at Misty’s store?”

  “I haven’t had time yet, but I’ll go down and see where they all lead,” Reid said. “One goes to the cave in the desert—which can be there or not, as Oison chooses, it seems. He must be working some powerful spells, including ones to help him resist iron.”

  “Great. Iron is the badass magical weapon against Fae,” Graham said. “Without that, what have we got?”

  “Spells that help resist iron are temporary,” Reid said. “And Fae can’t resist iron when it’s embedded in their brains.”

  Neal gave a short laugh. The man was opening up in a big way today. “Wish I could have seen that.”

  “I don’t know if I killed him,” Reid said. “Since Misty and Graham are still hurt, I’d say I didn’t.”

  “Too bad,” Neal said.

  “Tell me about it.” Graham dragged in a breath that sent agony through him. “You can leave. I’ll stay with Misty until the healer gets here.”

  Reid and Neal exchanged a glance. “You sure?” Neal asked.

  “You want me to rest. I’ll rest with her. But I won’t sleep.”

  Another glance. Goddess, they were like nannies. Finally Neal took up his sword and buckled it onto his back. Reid gave Graham a last look, and the two men left the room together.

  “Thought we’d never be alone.” Graham sat on his big bed, swinging his legs onto the mattress and adjusting himself to lean against the headboard. He wore only jeans, his feet bare, the bandage squeezing his side in an annoying way.

  Misty didn’t respond. Her hair was sweaty and damp, still in the ponytail. The first night Graham had met her, at Coolers, she’d worn her hair in a softer style, with wisps curling around her forehead. She’d regarded Graham with her dark brown eyes, unafraid, and asked him if he was a Shifter.