Chapter 20
Edwina
Ace, along with a dozen or so of his wolves, gather around Hank’s vehicle. As soon as I received the information from Sheila, I contacted him, but coming to see me is only a courtesy. The alpha doesn’t need my permission to act.
“I’ve sent a team to the address you gave me, Edwina. How else can we help?” Ace asks.
“Escort me to Kragen’s.” I tuck my hands into my pockets. The night breeze, blowing smells from the Mississippi, ruffles my hair. “I want back-up going over there, but we’re not engaging.”
“Why the hell not?” A random wolf, listening in on our conversation, asks with a snarl in his voice.
If I’m working with the BlackGuard again, I have to take control of the situation. That’s how I played the game before—I respected all the alphas, but everyone on my team obeyed me without exception. I gesture to Ace, and he helps me up onto the hood of the car. A wave of my hand casts a false image over our group. Anyone passing by will see an active production crew. It’s a plausible deception with all the different television series shot in N’awlins.
Taking in the males and a few females in the group, I see beings full of pride. Each one is ready to do whatever their alpha tells them to do. Ace may be their leader, but when it comes to this task, they have to follow me. It’s the only way I stay protected. All it takes is one knowledgeable supernatural to end me. Witchcraft won’t save me if I’m caught off-guard by a stealthy wolf.
“Everybody listen up!” I shout. “I know ya ready to fight, but engaging the enemy isn’t the goal. Not yet. We only want to make our presence known. Show them we’re on to ‘em. The PFC threatens each and every one of us along with those we care about. It’s time for it to go down. The only way we do that is by dismantling it starting at the top.”
Someone snaps, “When do we take orders from a fucking vamp?”
Blood rushes to my head. There always has to be a punk in the crowd. This time, however, Ace jumps to my defense. He barrels over to the lanky wolf, grabs him by the throat, and flings him through the air like a dirty towel. Ace’s chest heaves up and down as he surveys the rest of the pack members.
“Anyone else wanna challenge her authority?” When no one speaks, Ace nods at me to continue.
I’m grateful for the wolf leader. Despite our history, we still maintain a mutual respect for each other.
The disciplined wolf rises off the cement as I resume my speech. “In case ya don’t know me, I’m Edwina Devereaux of the Devereaux Witches. And if that doesn’t mean anything to ya, I was fighting and hunting rogues while some of ya were still pups. If ya with me, follow me to the Kragen Estate. We’re looking for Damien Duchamp and a crooked ass police chief named Elijah Ryder. They’re planning another fight tomorrow. We need to stop it from happening. Understood?”
The wolves begin howling, including the one Ace tossed to the ground. I jump to the ground.
Ace asks, “We done here?”
“Yes. I’m expected at Kragen’s. I’ll take Hank’s car. Just follow me over.” I open the door and slide behind the wheel with no intention of putting on a respectable dress.
The exterior of Kragen’s Estate is lit up like Christmas time. From the shadowy perimeter, I watch the various individuals file through the front door hunting for Damien or Elijah. There hasn’t been any confirmation that Hank and Tyson are free. Not knowing whether Hank will live or die troubles me more than I realized it would. If anything happens to him, I swear there will be no place Damien or Elijah will be able to hide. I’ll track them down and cast my wrath upon anyone who even breathes their names. I refuse to let anyone take what’s mine.
Mine…
Does Hank truly belong to me?
I know what I heard. Realizing what he wants warms me when I recognize that I share his desire. A twig snaps behind me, interrupting my thoughts.
“Hello, Ace,” I say flatly.
“Why are you hanging back here?” he asks.
Stalling.
“Just waiting for the right time,” I lie. In all honesty, I’m afraid. If I encounter Elijah and he tells me Hank is dead…
Focus.
When there’s a break in the throng at the front door, we free ourselves from the bushes and make ready to join the party.
Ace and I run into Baldovino as soon as we cross the threshold. Kragen’s enslaved being inspects our attire. His red eyes glow, and his head moves slowly side to side. “The Master won’t be pleased.”
“Vin, ask me if I care,” I say as I push past him. There’s a job to be done and a male to be found. Following a haughty directive is not on the agenda.
A myriad of voices assaults me as we step into the brightly lit living room. Females, both human and supernatural, drape over their escorts like luxurious pieces of jewelry. It’s sickening how they allow themselves to be used in such a manner. My time on Earth has taught me plenty of things, but it was one male…my male…who taught me to value my own worth. Females are not to be owned.
“If ya were in need of clothing, ya should have said something, cher.” Kragen stands at my right side. Ace stops on my left.
“A dress doesn’t help me do my job,” I point out. My gaze sweeps the room, but I don’t see anyone who stands out. “Introduce me to Elijah and Damien.”
Kragen extends his arm, and I hook my hand around his elbow. We walk past Julien and Morgan. Her eyes bulge when she sees Ace with us. Good. Let her be pissed.
A sweet scent tinged with blood filters through my senses. My eyes dart around the room, trying to find the source. A large male with olive-drab skin and graying hair enters my sight. Residing on his age-creased face, like an accident of birth, is a permanent scowl. He makes no attempt to hide his bruised knuckles. Undoubtedly, he’s Elijah Ryder, and I owe him a reckoning. Next to him is a younger, attractive male. Most likely that’s Damien Duchamp.
Kragen leans close. “Ya would be correct. They are interested in speaking ta ya as well.”
I turn to Ace. “Do me a favor and escort ‘em to the veranda. I’ll speak to ‘em there.”
The alpha nods and stalks toward the two males.
“Be careful, cher,” Kragen warns. “I don’t want blood shed on my property.”
My head rocks up. “If there’s any shed, trust it won’t be mine.”
Closing the French doors behind me, I glide toward Elijah and Damien. Ace is on standby at the end of the porch in case I need him. The night air is welcome after the stuffiness of Kragen’s living room. Unfortunately, it doesn’t hide the foul odor coming from the cat shifter.
Damien, pretending to be the perfect gentleman in a tailored suit and tie, ambles forward with his hand out.“Miss Devereaux, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
His Southern drawl isn’t as thick as I would have expected, but it’s there. I grasp his hand. No latent images come to mind. Something disturbingly sinister, however, grabs my attention. Dark tendrils of magic, like wisps of smoke, snake between us. A gnarled finger creeps out of the haze and taps my flesh, looking for an entry point—a point of weakness. The deathly presence finds none and slithers back beneath Damien’s skin. The hybrid isn’t responsible for snatching Hank. He’s just guilty of being a twisted asshole who likes to dabble in the dark arts. Someone to keep a wide berth around, for sure.
Forcing politeness into my voice, I say, “I assure ya the pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Duchamp.”
He flashes a bright white smile. “Please, call me Damien. May I introduce my associate Elijah Ryder?”
The older man, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, eagerly takes my hand and my heart stops. Images rush through my mind, all of them of Hank. Like the pages of a book, the pictures unfold in front of me. Chains hold Hank to a wall. Two muscular assholes pummel him, breaking his ribs. Elijah delivers a blow that knocks Hank out. A shiny collar, glowing with dark magic, sits around Hank’s throat. My eyes lift to meet Elijah’s. A satisfying smirk crosses his ugly face.
He knows what I saw.
I slip my hand from his, doing my best to keep my anger in check, and lie. “Nice to meet ya, Mr. Ryder.”
His chapped lips curl upward into a cold grin. “You can call me Elijah, Edwina.”
“Trust me.” My fangs descend while my spine stiffens. “There are things I’d like to call ya, but none of them would be ya first name.”
“I seem to have struck a nerve.” His beast grumbles. “Guess that asshole Richards means more to you than I assumed.”
I hiss, and Ace walks toward us.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Edwina,” Elijah warns. “My issue with Richards doesn’t concern you. Walk away while you can.”
In one move my hand goes to his neck, and his back hits a porch column. “Don’t. Test. Me. I’ll gladly rip ya damned throat out.”
He laughs as he raises a hand and easily extricates himself from my grip. “Do you really think you can threaten me? I hold all the cards here.”
Ace comes to my side before Elijah can invade my space. “Ryder, I suggest ya walk away. Touch the lady, and I’ll take ya fucking arms off.”
Elijah raises his hands in an act of surrender. “This isn’t over. Hank and his brother will fight tomorrow night. Whoever’s left standing will pay for my son’s death. And then, Edwina, we’ll finish this. I suggest you settle your affairs. Your time on this Earth is about over.”
He jerks his head toward Damien.
“This has been most entertaining, Miss Devereaux,” Damien says. “I promise you, though, nothing will happen to you as long as you are with me.” He winks and follows behind Elijah.
The blood in my veins curdles with Damien’s implied message. Hell is in for a blizzard if Damien thinks I’ll hook up with him.
Ace pulls out his phone and taps out a message. Seconds later, his device chimes.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Hank and his brother are with the pack. My wolves are following Ryder and Duchamp.”
I nod. The weight on my shoulders eases a smidge. “Let’s go.”