Frostbound Part 29

Friday, December 31, 9:00 p.m.

Empire Hotel

"All I want is a quiet beer," Darak said to Nia, raising his voice over the din. "Where's the mystery?"

The New Year's crowd at the Empire was rocking, the bar three and four people deep. Darak had both elbows out, guarding his territory. Daisy was asleep at his feet.

Nia seemed to hold her spot by being female, exotic, and wearing nothing to speak of. There was more of that cosmetic glittery powder against her ebony skin than actual clothing. The werebear beside her looked ready to offer marriage.

"The mystery, my friend, is in how you think you can prevent me from helping you to pluck the guts from this King of the East." Nia gave him her squinty-eyed look, which said he was likely to end up with an arrow in his a.s.s if he tried to sneak away. "I am the perfect choice for your hostage. I am beautiful. Men never expect a beautiful woman to cut their throats."

"No."

"Who else would you choose?"

"No one. No hostages."

"You think you can get close to him without playing his game?"

"How close do I need to be? I'm just stepping on a bug."

"Bugs bite."

Darak sighed. There were only a handful of people he let backtalk him, and they'd all known him since before the Dark Ages. It was hard to fool someone who'd been at your side since togas went out of fas.h.i.+on.

There was the whole problem: You couldn't replace people like that. They were his chosen kin. "I want to go after this fool alone because he's a crazy sorcerer. They're always bad news. How can I hand you over to him?"

"Bad news is my meat and drink." Nia took a sip of her c.o.c.ktail. It was mauve with a flower floating in it. "And I'm bored. Stop trying to keep me-all of us-safe. After this long, it's getting very old. You should have told us what the ghost girl said right away. You should have let us help you look for the necromancer. Enough of that. In three hours you will take me to the pier, and I will play my role as a poor, helpless slave girl. You're not doing this alone."

Darak grunted something that was neither a yes or no. He was watching the bartender, Joe, who was holding a cell phone to one ear and his finger in the other. By his face, he was getting bad news. It seemed to be going around.

Joe's gaze flicked up, meeting Darak's face. He began walking toward him, closing the phone. He leaned on the bar, bringing his face close to Darak's so that he could be heard. "You met Lore, the Alpha h.e.l.lhound, a few nights ago?"

"Yeah."

"He has a message for you."

"What?"

"He needs your help."

Darak sat back on his stool. Great. Now what? "What makes him think I care?"

Joe shrugged. "He does this prophecy thing. He said you made a promise to a ghost."

Darak's skin went cold. "What did you say?"

"He said to say the airports are open. If you plan on doing something, meet him at this address now." Joe grabbed a napkin and wrote something down. He slid it across the bar.

Nia picked it up. "What has this got to do with your ghost?"

Joe gave them a dark look. "Our friend Talia is missing."

Friday, December 31, 9:15 p.m.

Perry's condo

Perry Baker lived in an apartment on the ground floor of a Victorian-era warehouse in Spookytown, the entrance off of a parking lot at the rear. Iron stairs zigzagged up its brick face, a few of the railings sporting Christmas decorations. Security lights winked on as Lore made his way around the building, casting harsh shadows in the snow. Someone had cleared a path through the drifts. Bit by bit, Fairview was getting a handle on its Winter Wonderland status.

His mood was far from festive.

Lore had dreamed last night, or perhaps it was a prophecy. As usual, he wasn't sure which and he had no idea what to make of what he saw: Talia throwing a knife at him, a look of deep anger in her eyes. He could still see the whirling blade, the thwop-thwop of it as it spun through the air. In the dream, he was leaping, trying to get out of the way. Fear rippled through him, but he wasn't sure what was the real threat. In the murky dream-state, he'd known there was something worse than the knife coming his way.

He'd jerked awake next to Talia's still form, his heart pounding. He was sick to death of nightmares. First Mavritte with a blade, and now Talia. How come the women in his dreams never had plates of food, or mugs of beer, or scented ma.s.sage oils? Just for a change, it would be nice. But now he couldn't find Talia. Was that what the dream meant? Was the knife the sharp stab of worry in his heart?

Lore had called a meeting of his friends. They needed to regroup and make plans because the airports had opened and Omara was on her way. The timing sucked. He had a splitting headache, and he was deeply worried about Talia. He had to find her, but he had no idea where she was-not at the condo, not at the Empire, not in Spookytown, and not at the cop shop. He needed help.

The headache was one of the curses of being the Alpha. He'd been sitting in Bevan's living room and talking to the Elders when another prophecy had ridden in on a mother of a migraine headache. Through the blinding lights and nausea, he'd seen Darak making a promise to a filmy presence Lore couldn't fully make out, but he'd heard Talia's name. Whatever happened next, the rogue vampire would play a role-and it would involve her.

Two prophecies in twenty-four hours? Unusual to say the least. That in itself set his ruff standing on end.

The headache would fade, but worry dug in like the talons of a raptor. Talia had a talent for vanis.h.i.+ng-from his condo, from the hospital, and now from Osan Mina's house. The woman is pure chaos. At least this time, he was almost certain that she was with Baines. But why? Had she gone on her own? Had Baines forced her? Why hadn't she told him where she was going?

They weren't at the police station. As the cop on the phone had pointed out, they'd not been gone two hours. Talia was an adult. Lore should chill out. Sure. After all he and Talia had been through, it was impossible not to fear the worst. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, as if he could protect the spark between them with his own bones and muscle. Last night had meant everything. Talia had been everything. Brave, vulnerable, generous-those qualities that drew him to her had been there in her lovemaking. Also, that chaotic, unpredictable element. After living by the rules of the pack for so long, the surprise of her was intoxicating.

When the storm of lovemaking had been spent, he'd slept beside Talia, his body desperate for rest. On top of crime, death, and Mavritte, the venom had taken its mind- and body-blowing toll, but more than an urge to sleep had kept him there.

h.e.l.lhounds guarded-and he wanted to guard her. Forever. No one else brought the kind of peace he felt when his fingers brushed her skin. No one-hound, human, or anything else-drew his eyes and filled him with her scent the way Talia did. In a matter of days, she had become the center of his thoughts.

But she wasn't a h.e.l.lhound. This isn't supposed to happen. Too bad. His soul knew who it wanted, and that was that. I don't care. I want her, and she obviously needs someone to cover her back for once. What she had been through in her existence was appalling, even by Castle standards.

Anxiety sparking through his limbs, Lore crunched through the snow with extra force. He crossed the parking lot. Some of the cars were dusted off, others still lumps of snow. A trail of footprints led the way to his destination. He wasn't the first to arrive.

Sometime before Christmas, Perry had hung a stuffed toy on the door-a wolf's head with a Santa hat and flas.h.i.+ng red nose. Santa Claws. Lore had to push it aside to find the knocker.

He'd barely rapped twice when Errata opened the apartment door, looking like someone had stepped on her tail. Behind her, he could see Perry's black and white kitchen. It was a little messy, but well stocked with cookbooks and cans of food on the open shelving. Lore knew Perry had wooed more than one woman with his spaghetti Bolognese.

Errata met Lore's eyes with a desperate expression. "I can't stand the man. Would you please take him back to the hospital and chain him to a bed."

Lore decided not to touch that one. "Silver poisoning makes werebeasts crazy."

"I know that," she snapped. "I didn't realize it also made them stupid enough to try playing detective when they're full of bullet holes. He just got home an hour ago. He's barely unhooked from all those machines. Yesterday, he was supposed to be dying, for the love of-"

She turned and stalked back into the apartment.

Lore stepped inside, smelling chicken and onions from the soup pot on the stove. I had no idea Errata could cook. He shed his coat and walked through to the living room. It was mostly bare brick with black leather furniture. Perry had taken the place for much the same reason Lore had moved into his friend Mac's old condo-to gain a little distance from their respective packs. They were both considered rebels for adopting the human custom of finding a place of their own.

At the moment, though, it appeared Errata had taken charge. She was frowning down at Perry, who was stretched out on the couch, cus.h.i.+ons propping him into a semi-sitting position. Perry's arm was in a sling, probably to immobilize his wounded shoulder. His color was bad, skin pale against the shadow of his beard, and his scent was tainted with the sweat of pain.

"What part of bed rest don't you understand?" Errata fumed.

Perry's eyes narrowed to slits. "The part where I take a nap while the bad guys finish me off. That's why they let me out of the hospital, remember? Too hard to run a medical center with a.s.sa.s.sins roaming the halls, so you send the target home so he can be murdered offsite. No, thanks. I'd rather cut to the chase and catch the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

Lore didn't see Perry angry very often, but the wolf was on a slow burn. Lore didn't blame him one bit. No hospital would send away a human patient like this. "How many guards are there around this place?"

Just because Lore hadn't seen them outside, that didn't mean they weren't there. Most of the Silvertail pack knew Lore, at least by sight, and wouldn't stop him.

Perry started to shrug, but winced when he tried to move his shoulder. "Dad said he had it covered. Of course, he wanted me to go back to his place."

"Maybe you should have," said Lore.

"No way. I do that, and as far as they're concerned, I'm twelve again." Perry smiled, but he sounded like he was only half joking.

Errata gave a little hiss. "Stubborn idiot."

A knock sounded at the kitchen door, two quick raps. Errata went to answer it. Lore glanced over at Perry. His friend had his eyes closed, lines of pain around his mouth. Errata was right. Perry should be in bed, not hosting a meeting.

At that moment, Errata led Darak into the room. The werecougar, tall as she was, looked like a child next to him. "Lore, your, uh, friend's here."

Lore and Darak exchanged a wary look.

"h.e.l.lhound," Darak rumbled by way of greeting. Then he turned to Perry. "You look half-dead."

"Working on it," Perry replied, opening his eyes to slits. "Do I know you?"

"Perry Baker, Errata Jones," Lore said, pointing to his friends. "Everyone, this is Darak.

"Of Clan Thanatos," Darak added.

At that, Perry opened both eyes. "We're going with the heavy hitters."

"d.a.m.ned straight." Darak made himself comfortable in an overstuffed chair. "What's this I hear about Talia being gone? How long?"

"Two hours," Lore said.

"That's not missing. That's out for coffee. What else is going on?"

Uneasy, Lore took the other chair. Errata sat on the arm of the couch next to Perry.

Lore got to the point. "First problem: The airports are clear and Omara will be landing shortly. It's New Year's Eve and the town is packed with strangers. It's the perfect time for this attack we're antic.i.p.ating."

"Where is she going to be?" asked Errata.

"She's staying at her usual hotel downtown. The Hilliard Fairview."

"Shouldn't she go someplace different?" asked Errata. "She knows there's a problem, right? With the fire and the election and necromancy, etcetera?"

"Queens don't move," Darak replied. "It would be a sign of weakness."

"Great." Lore rubbed his eyes, wis.h.i.+ng aspirin worked on half-demon headaches. "Problem two: Talia is missing. I think she's with Baines, but I don't know exactly why. Her cousin was beheaded by a necromancer we think was her sire. Her brother is a Hunter who may well be the sniper who shot Perry. Against everything we know about Hunters, they're using magic."

Darak made a noise that said he'd just figured something out. "So the Hunters are the interested parties."

They all looked at him, Lore getting the creeping sense that matters had just got worse. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Belenos wants to destroy Omara," Darak answered. "It's not a leap to believe the Hunters would consider the election an abomination, and they'd cheerfully punish the queen whose influence made it possible. They're working with Belenos. That's why the Hunters have access to magic. A truce in order to kill a common enemy."

"Wait a minute." Confused, Lore got to his feet and began pacing. "The Hunters and Belenos? Belenos killed Talia. He addicted her brother. The Hunters would never work with him. Belenos has a feud with her father. She told me."

"Am I missing something?" Perry asked.

"Talia was born a Hunter," Errata said.

"What the h.e.l.l? No way."

"Her brother came to finish you off and she chased him through the hospital. You slept through the whole thing."

"Thank G.o.d for that." Perry winced. "Fido's b.a.l.l.s, Lore, I know you like the wild girls, but wow."

"She is not a Hunter now," Lore retorted, feeling his defenses rise. Where is Talia? Why hasn't she called?

"I don't know this tribe of Hunters," said Darak. "But the ones I do know always put the killing of monsters ahead of their personal affections. Their children are the p.a.w.ns and tools of their fathers. It's an honor to sacrifice them to the cause."

Lore stopped pacing and sat down again, feeling sick. "That fits with what Talia has said."

"Not to be self-centered," said Perry, trying to hitch himself higher onto the pillows. "But on the subject of my foiled a.s.sa.s.sination, I take it that Belenos sent the brother after me? Why?"

"Belenos must have found out that you have video images proving he's in town," Lore said. "I'm not sure how they knew."