Magic Rises kd-6 Page 21

  They stopped before us.

  “I’ve come to check on my grandchild.”

  Someone must’ve told her about the vampire. “Desandra is safe. The babies are fine.”

  “I will see for myself.”

  “She doesn’t want to see you right now,” I said.

  “I will have to insist,” Isabella said.

  “Or you could choose to talk to her later at dinner,” I said.

  Isabella narrowed her eyes and looked me over slowly. “For a human in the den of beasts, you have a lot of arrogance. What makes you think you’re safe?”

  I’m sorry, I was a human? I had no idea. What a surprise. “What makes you think I’m not?” And what an awesome comeback that was. Wow, I showed her.

  Isabella smiled, her eyes cold like two chunks of coal. “When an alpha stands in front of you, the proper response is respect and fear, you human idiot. Were you a shapeshifter, you would know this.”

  Name-calling, huh.

  Derek bared his teeth.

  “If I cringed every time an alpha of another shapeshifter pack showed his teeth, I would be you.”

  Isabella glared at me. The woman at her side tensed.

  Did you like that? Here, have another one. “Where I come from, we don’t give up our daughters-in-law just because Jarek Kral snarls. But I understand you do things differently. If Kral ever decides to take away your lunch money, let me know and we’ll help you out.”

  Isabella blinked. The dark-haired woman said something in Italian. Isabella’s stare gained a deadly edge. “This will help you not at all. You are being replaced, and you are so stupid, you don’t even realize it. When a shapeshifter loves a woman, he doesn’t let another woman hunt next to him, nor does he let her finish his kills. When Lennart throws you away, I will be waiting.”

  She turned around and marched away, her younger escort in tow. I waited thirty seconds.

  “Did this happen?”

  Derek paused before answering. “Yes.”

  “So he let Lorelei finish his kills?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does this mean something or is she just blowing smoke in my face?”

  Derek sighed. “He shouldn’t have done it. It’s something wolves do. It’s not like offering food, but it’s close.”

  My chest suddenly acquired a heavy rock. It rolled inside me, hurting.

  “It can also be taken a different way,” Derek said. “Parents let kids finish their kills. Older brothers let younger kids do it . . .”

  I looked at him.

  “He shouldn’t have done it,” Derek said. “But he never does anything without a reason.”

  “When I asked you if you knew something I didn’t, you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t volunteer information. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  I wasn’t worried. When Curran got here, I intended to trip him, sit on him, and shake him until he explained this thing to me. So far, he’d let her stand naked next to him, he’d let her hunt with him, he’d let her finish his kills—whatever the fuck that meant—and in the past twenty-four hours he’d spent more time listening to her than he had speaking to me.

  A cold thought squirmed through me. From a purely logical point of view, Lorelei would make a better Consort. She was a shapeshifter, she had ties to the largest shapeshifter pack in the United States, and her father wasn’t planning to exterminate the shapeshifters because they were becoming too powerful.

  Logically it made sense, but none of that mattered, because the man who’d fallen asleep next to me last night loved me. I would bet my life on it. The way things were going, I just might have to.

  Derek walked out into the hallway and stayed there.

  “What are you doing?”

  He nodded at the stairs. Curran jogged down, jumped, covering the last few steps, and headed straight for me, light on his toes, radiating that contained physical energy that pulled me like a magnet.

  I scrutinized his face. He seemed on edge, his expression worn, the line of his mouth tired but firm. His eyes said that he was tired and annoyed, and if you got in his way now, he’d snap your neck without hesitation and keep going about his way.

  I crossed my arms. “You—”

  Curran gathered me to him and kissed me. It was a long, lingering kiss, made from fading exasperation, relief, and happiness. He smiled at me, those eyes so warm and welcoming. “I wanted to do this all day.”

  Okay. Now I was officially bewildered. I waited to see if question marks would sprout all around me, but the air stayed clear.

  He noticed the hole in the wall. “What the hell happened?”

  “We redecorated.” I kept my voice level. “Where have you been?”

  “The Belve and the Volkodavi wanted to discuss things, and I had to sit in as a witness.”

  “For five hours?”

  “More or less. We just finished.”

  And Isabella must’ve come here right away to bug Desandra.

  Curran dragged his hand over his face, as if hoping to wipe away fatigue. “They are trying to hammer out some sort of agreement to unite against Kral. I haven’t eaten since the hunt. I’m starving.”

  “Did they succeed?”

  “Hell no. Everybody was tired from the hunt and irritable as fuck. They bickered about inheriting the pass, and did their grandstanding, and accused each other of things. Radomil fell asleep. For a few minutes it looked like they might actually agree on something. Then the younger brother—Ignazio—decided it would be a grand idea to jump up and announce that when his nephew was born, at least he would be born smart like his father, so he should inherit the pass and not the other kid, who’s been fathered by a citrullo.”

  “What’s a citrullo?”

  “From what I gathered, it’s either a cucumber or a half-wit.” Curran shook his head. “Then the Volkodavi started yelling. The Belve yelled back. Radomil woke up and someone clued him in that he had been insulted but apparently not who’d done it, because Radomil went after Gerardo and called him parazeet and viridok.”

  “Parasite and bastard,” I translated. Voron was Russian. I spoke it well enough, better now that I had someone in Atlanta to practice with, and I’d hung out enough with Ukrainians to pick up the language. Curses were the second thing you learned, right behind yes, no, help, stop, and where is the bathroom?

  “Ahh.” Curran nodded. “That explains why Gerardo’s mother went furry.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Then I roared. Then everyone got insulted and declared that they wouldn’t stand for this and the meeting was over. Good too, because I’ve had it with them. I wouldn’t give these kids to either one of the packs. They don’t give a shit about them or Desandra. As they were leaving, I could hear them yelling at each other. After Gerardo called Radomil every curse under the sun, Radomil’s brother told him that smart men keep bitches in heat on a chain.”

  I developed a sudden strong urge to punch both of them in the face.

  “He is lucky that he said that to Gerardo. If he’d said it to me about you, that would’ve been it. He would never say anything else.”

  Curran fell silent. I turned. Desandra stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Color drained from her face. “Vitaliy said that?”

  Curran looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “Yes.”

  “What did Gerardo do?”

  “He called him some name I didn’t catch.”

  “But did he do anything?”

  “No,” Curran said.

  “I see,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I’ll be going to dinner today. My bitch chain isn’t long enough.”

  “Desandra . . .” Curran said.

  She raised her hand. “Don’t.” Her voice shook. She was about to snap.

  I needed to talk to Curran. But Desandra was about to lose it. Abandon her or straighten this out? It would be a long conversation . . .

  Desandra made a small strangled noise in her throat.
Damn it. He was tired, we were both starving, and privacy was in short supply. I’d waited this long; I could wait until we were alone. I turned to Curran. “Why don’t you go without me? Make an appearance, snarl, and all that. I’ll be here.”

  Curran looked at Desandra for a long moment. “I’ll be back.”

  “Bring us some food,” I told him. “And I really need to talk to you when you come back.”

  “Okay.” He kissed me and left the room.

  Derek came inside and shut the door behind him.

  Desandra sank on the bed, put her hands over her face, and began to cry.

  * * *

  Desandra wept.

  Kill me, somebody. I never knew what to do or what to say. I got a soft towel from the bathroom and brought it to her. Desandra’s shoulders shook. She sobbed quietly. At the entrance Derek was doing his best to fade into the woodwork.

  I sat next to her on the bed. She cried in a thin, heart-wrenching voice, her sobs leaking complete despair, as if her world were ending. Her father was an abusive asshole who used her as a bargaining chip. The two men she had married didn’t love her or her children. Right now only we truly cared about her welfare, and we did so because we would be paid with panacea at the end. I wished I could say something or do something to make her feel better.

  Gradually the sobs slowed down. She pulled away from me and pressed the towel to her face.

  “I feel so alone,” she said quietly. “I just want one of them to care. But they don’t.”

  “They probably don’t,” I told her.

  Her makeup had run and dark streaks of smudged eyeliner stained her cheeks. She wiped her face with the towel. “And I won’t have a choice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When the babies are born, what will happen? Are they going to force me to go with whoever’s son is born first? Are they going to take my children from me and throw me back to my father, so he can tell me every day how I cost him the pass and what a worthless waste I am?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  She looked at me and whispered, “I’m afraid to love my own babies, because I won’t get to keep them.”

  Oh God.

  Thinking of being paid for all this misery churned my stomach. If it had been up to me, I would have said screw it. I’d take her out of here, away from all of them, whether I got my fee or not. But it wasn’t about me. It was about Maddie lying twisted in a glass coffin while her family prayed we would make it back safe. It was about Andrea’s future babies. And about mine.

  “Someone’s coming,” Derek said.

  I rose from the bed and moved to the door. Raphael and Andrea rounded the corner.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We heard crying,” Raphael said.

  “Fuck me,” Desandra said from the bed. “Can’t a woman cry in peace?”

  “Not with these acoustics.” Andrea came into the room and showed us a plate of fruit. “I got snacks.”

  Derek looked at the platter with that particular longing, the way a starving dog eyes a juicy steak.

  “Are you staying for a bit?” I asked Andrea.

  “You bet.”

  I glanced at Derek. “Why don’t you go and grab a bite to eat? We don’t know when Curran will be back.”

  “Come on,” Raphael told him. “I’ll walk with you.”

  Raphael winked at me, and he and Derek took off.

  Half an hour later Desandra had finished eating and was passed out, snoring up a storm. We sat on the floor on the rug, the mostly empty platter of fruit between us. I stole another apricot. I was still hungry.

  “You should go to dinner,” Andrea said. “I’ll watch Ms. Preggers.”

  “It’s still my shift. You had your turn already.”

  “Yes, but Princess Wilson isn’t out there making googly eyes at Raphael.” Andrea bared her teeth.

  “Is Lorelei at dinner?”

  “Yes. Yes, she is. She’s wearing a see-through dress and she is practically melting when Curran looks at her.”

  There were times in my life when supreme mental powers would come in handy. Right now I wished I could telepathically reach into the dining hall and slap Lorelei out of her chair.

  “I have a job to do.” I leaned back against the bed and closed my eyes for a moment.

  “You okay?” Andrea asked me.

  No. No, I wasn’t okay. People were dying. A pregnant woman was in danger. A young pretty shapeshifter girl with heavy political clout was going after Curran and there wasn’t anything I could do about any of it.

  “Did you know Hugh has a man in a cage in the inner yard? He’s been in there for weeks. He’s slowly starving to death. And I can’t do anything to get him out.”

  “The worst change of subject ever,” Andrea said. “I thought we were talking about Lorelei?”

  “I don’t like her,” Desandra said from the bed.

  Damn it. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “You never talk about anything interesting when I’m awake.”

  “That’s because we don’t trust you,” Andrea said.

  “I know that. But I’ve got gossip on Lorelei and you don’t.” Desandra scooted up, propping herself up on the pillows. “Like who invited her to the stupid meeting.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Who?”

  “She invited herself,” Desandra said. “She wrote a letter to Lord Megobari and told him that she and Curran were childhood friends, and that she knew many people from Atlanta. This was her only chance to see him and could she please visit. She wouldn’t be any trouble.”

  Hugh must’ve just loved that. The smug bastard probably laughed when he read that letter. How did Lorelei even find out about this entire affair?

  “Who knew about Curran coming over to arbitrate?” I asked.

  Desandra shrugged. “I didn’t know until two weeks before Lorelei showed up.”

  “So she had insider information,” Andrea said. “I wonder where she got it.”

  “That I don’t know.” Desandra grimaced. “I can tell you that when she got off the ship, she was really friendly. Really. She had the whole sweet and innocent act going.” Desandra fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh poor me, I am a sweet and honeyed flower, too delicate and . . . What’s the word when you are like, Oh, I am so honest and I just want to help?”

  “Earnest?” Andrea suggested.

  “Yes, that. But I did the same thing at her age. I could tell she was a snake. Once she realized I wasn’t about to be her best friend, this whole big holier-than-thou thing came out. I had a fight with my father and she told me that I was inappropriate. Then one time . . . okay, so pregnant women get gas. Your stomach is the size of a backpack, and when you do get gas, it hurts to breathe. So I farted. I couldn’t help it. She called me vulgar. I told her to mind her own business, and she said that I was shameful and no self-respecting person would associate with someone like me. I was an embarrassment to my father and my husband. I had no honor.” Desandra grimaced. “She must’ve grown up in a fish tank or something. She has all these weird ideas about how people are supposed to interact. Like she is some kind of nobility and we’re all just peasants.”

  Interesting. “What did you do?” I asked.

  “I’d checked up on her. Her dad is some big alpha in the U.S., but her mom couldn’t stand him so she took Lorelei and moved back to Belgium. There is only one major shapeshifter pack in Belgium, and Lorelei’s grandparents are running it. They didn’t really want her mother or her back, so they let them come back on one condition: neither of them can have anything to do with the running of the pack. There is some family money and they are not hurting, but neither of them can ever be an alpha. They didn’t want them to compete with their son. So when Lorelei told me I was an embarrassment, I told her I was daughter of an alpha and wife to two future alphas, and that three packs were crossing the sea because of me. I asked her how fast did she think they would throw her into the sea if I asked them to do it
.”

  “Ha!” Andrea grinned.

  I wouldn’t mind throwing Lorelei into the sea, but right now the need to punch Curran was much stronger. “What did she say?”

  “She got all shocked, worked up some tears, told me I was a horrible person, and ran away. We were eating at the time, and nobody followed her, which probably spoiled her plan.” Desandra leaned forward and winced. “Ow. I keep forgetting not to do that. Anyway, I grew up in a pack that was a minefield. I like that word, by the way. Very nice. I’ve seen her type before. Lorelei is intelligent, meaning she has some brains, but she’s also young and inexperienced. She doesn’t understand what makes people tick and she thinks that everyone is much stupider than her. She’s a classic sociopath: she’s charming and manipulative, she believes she’s entitled, she never genuinely feels guilt, and when she offers an apology, it’s superficial. She mimics happiness and she can probably mimic love. She isn’t psychopathic—her temper is pretty even, she isn’t necessarily predatory, and I can’t see her trying suicide. Way too narcissistic.”

  “How the hell do you know all this?” Andrea asked.

  Desandra sighed. “I’ve read a lot of psychology books. I started when I was a kid. I was trying to diagnose my father.”

  Well, that was a surprise. “What’s the verdict?”

  “He is a severe megalomaniac. He has intense narcissistic personality disorder, complete with occasional paranoia. He displays every one of Hotchkiss’s seven deadly sins of narcissism. That’s how I learned to manipulate him. Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t help me with my mental health any, and he also knows which buttons to push.”

  “Why don’t you . . .” Andrea struggled for words. “Act more sane?”

  “Self-defense,” I told her. Suddenly many things made sense.

  “She’s right,” Desandra said. “How long do you think I would survive if they knew I had a brain? The only reason I’m not locked up is because they think I’m emotional and stupid. I am emotional—pregnancy hormones are no joke. But I’m not dumb. My mother was smart, and if you ask my father, he’ll show you many spots where people who thought they were smarter than him are hidden six feet under the ground. If Gerardo’s mother thought for a moment that I had more brains than a butterfly, she’d have kept me under lock and key the entire time I was married to him. When I told Gerardo we couldn’t fight my father, I didn’t do it because I was weak. I did it because I knew we couldn’t win. I thought about it and I weighed the odds, and they were not in our favor. Personally I hope Jarek pisses Curran off. That would be about the only person here who could kill him. Anyway, did you see Lorelei’s book?”