A Warlord's Lady (23 page)

Just as he did, Christy lost no time. She raised her fist and slammed it into the side of his head. Jürgen howled, his head twisted around painfully and then he fell, slamming against the floor with a final fleshy slap.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ Cain roared, staring at Christy.

She’d gone through some sort of partial shift during the fight, which must have been difficult. She was covered in thick brown fur, her muzzle was pointed and she bared a vicious set of teeth dripping blood. Jürgen’s blood, he presumed.

One of Christy’s crewmen, a demon of some description, was standing beside Jürgen’s dressing table. His hands rose instantly in supplication. ‘We weren’t allowed to intervene,’ he said in a clipped South African accent. ‘She made us swear.’

‘Not allowed to intervene? What kind of man are you, Titus?’ Cain thundered. ‘Where were the rest of you worthless sacks of shit? Remember who pays your wages.
Me.
Not Christy. This fight should never have taken place! The seven of you could stopped this, now look. Two of my best fighters, useless.’

He cursed under his breath and walked up to Christy, taking in her terrible appearance. The snug cargo pants she always sported had been shredded by Aufhocker claws, and ripped at the seams by her shift. Her furred abdomen, exposed by her short midriff tank top, wept blood. One eye was swollen closed, and she was panting heavily. He shook his head, and noticed one large clawed hand gripped the elbow of the other arm as it hung like a dead thing.

He released a heavy sigh and strolled over to where Jürgen lay semi-conscious and groaning on the floor. In Aufhocker form he was revolting; the only hair on his body seemed to be the sweat-plastered white blond mop that stuck to the strange mutated canine face.

‘Jürgen?’ Cain nudged him with his toe. ‘Jürgen?’

The Aufhocker drew an eyelid open, and his pale blue eye shone from under the fleshy swollen lid. ‘Sorry, boss.’ He groaned.

‘Mmmm.’ Cain nudged him again with the toe of his boot. ‘You know I don’t heal my people who’ve fought amongst themselves,’ he said softly, lifting his gaze to level it at Christy. ‘It’s a waste of my energy healing people’s self-inflicted wounds. You know my opinion on those matters.’ He took a sharp inhalation of breath to quell the heat he felt rising like a tide in his chest. ‘Yet…here we are, close to being under siege by government forces and my two generals are
fighting
amongst themselves.’ The word was dirty, and slipped from his lips with growl. ‘What do you two have to say for yourselves?’

Jürgen groaned and cradled his meaty head in his meaty hands, but otherwise said nothing. Christy appeared resigned, but unapologetic.

‘Well?’ he grated.

Christy huffed. ‘I told you, I caught him trying to screw Maggie South in his apartment.’ She spat a bloody hunk of catarrh onto the floor. ‘I had to stop him getting to her. She’s the enemy and was on heat.’

‘I can smell that,’ Cain agreed, as the dissipating odour of Aufhocker musk drifted past. ‘But why not get your crew to wrangle Jürgen, place him back into the cells until I got back? Why take it upon yourself to fight him off? These are the actions of a fool, not a general who heads my attack forces.’

Christy’s head hung low, but no blush or other gesture of shame was visible on her semi-shifted face. ‘I guess I just wanted to punch him,’ she lisped and spat another bloody hunk on the floor.

‘Stop doing that.’ Cain scowled at her. ‘You’ll be cleaning this mess up.’ He indicated to the trashed room and bloody floor. ‘You’re pathetic. I thought you two had got over this business.’

Jürgen groaned again and Christy remained silent.

‘Where is Mags now?’ he asked, but at the mere mention of her name Jürgen lurched to his feet. He was completely naked and his manhood hung limp and heavy between his legs.

‘Get in the shower,’ Cain said, turning away from him, but as he did he noticed Christy’s eyes linger on the bloodied mess of Jürgen’s massive back and chest. Jürgen looked around as if trying to spy Mags. ‘You won’t be seeing her until she’s out of season,’ Cain growled, ‘now get cleaned up and meet me in the den.’

Jürgen made no comment and walked off towards the bathroom.

Cain turned to Christy. ‘You should be damned ashamed of yourself. You know what happens when a male Aufhocker scents a female in season. If I’m not mistaken, Christy, I’ve bailed you out from a few awkward moments with your crew when your time came, so I would have expected you, of all people, to have some sympathy and understanding for the dilemma Jürgen just found himself in.’

Christy had the grace to hang her head.

‘Go, change and shift back. We’re meeting in the den in 10 minutes.’

Christy nodded, suitably chagrined, and left the room gripping her dead-looking arm.

Taking a deep breath, Cain turned and stalked from the room and shortly found himself in his den.

The room was empty. None of the women who lived in the compound were there, as they were all in lockdown in their section. He’d sent all non-essential staff from the compound for their own safety. Some were ensconced in bolt-holes in the jungle, others returned to Vientiane or the villages from which they came.

He walked to the credenza, and took a sip of
lao-hai
from a straw in an earthenware jar. He relished the bitter fire that exploded in his throat and drizzled into his stomach. It soothed the nervous churning worry that never seemed to leave.

What a mess everything had become
. He wished the thriae were still here to offer advice but Veronica and her swarm were gone. Had they known this was going to happen?

‘My lord.’ Jürgen’s voice was soft. Cain took another sip of
lao-hai,
turned and proffered the pot to him.

Jürgen limped towards him. With a hand that was covered in cuts, he accepted the small earthen jar and straw from his boss’s hand and took a sip gratefully. ‘Thanks.’

‘What happened, Jürgen?’ he asked softly.

‘Ah, my lord.’ He grimaced and rolled his shoulders. ‘She appeared in my apartments. I don’t know how she got here, or how she found me. I told her to leave.’

‘She found you the same way you found her before. You’re instinctively attracted.’ Cain muttered, ‘I should have realised, I should have planned for it — I didn’t. I apologise for that.’

Jürgen shrugged. ‘It’s not your fault. The thriae should have said something.’

‘If we were meant to know, they would have said. We aren’t always meant to know what is planned for us.’

Jürgen shrugged again, and winced. ‘Where is Maggie now? She’s not in
the
cell is she?’

Cain didn’t know, but he uttered a quick spell that blanketed the whole compound. He could sense a few sentries dotted around the compound, and Maggie in the dungeon — but not in the cell he’d had Jürgen locked in.

Guilt assuaged him. ‘No, she’s not.’ He felt a vague urge to apologise for having him locked in the cell for what he knew was essentially an accident — but didn’t.

‘Good,’ Jürgen grunted, and ran his hand through his hair.

‘Are you fit enough to do a reconnaissance trip?’ Cain asked, glancing at the cuts on his guard’s hands. They’d scabbed over as Aufhockers heal quicker than humans, but he knew his guard was riddled with other wounds despite the fact his posture and attitude did not divulge the true extent of his injuries. ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘My lord?’ Jürgen’s pale eyes hardened. ‘There is no need, I will be fine.’

Prideful beast.
Cain smiled. ‘I meant no offence. I know you are more than capable, but there is a problem with you and Christy. I can’t send you two out together, or you both may never return.’

Jürgen looked away, and handed the
lao-hai
back. Cain took it but this time didn’t take a sip.

‘I feel I’ve failed you, lord.’ Jürgen’s head fell. ‘By injuring Sabra and fighting with Christy.’

Cain didn’t answer for a while. The fact his guard had injured his woman still rankled, though he knew it was accidental. As Jürgen waited patiently for some response, it finally came.

‘Sabra is fine,’ Cain said stiffly. ‘I have kept her safe. They did not succeed in their attempts…to…’

Jürgen nodded. ‘Maggie was trying to make a deal with me,’ Jürgen spoke softly. ‘She’d let me, ah, mate in exchange for Sabra.’

Cain took another swig of
lao-hai.
The rankling anger ignited again. The thought of Sabra being exchanged for a romp in the hay with someone as feral as Maggie South — it was beyond comprehension. Wild magic began to swirl around him, though he tried to control it. ‘You should have quit while you were ahead, Jürgen,’ Cain warned, grinding his teeth.

Exchange Sabra for a shag?
Angry heat swirled in his head. Instead of allowing his anger an outlet, Cain took a deep breath, searching for rational thoughts.

He heard Jürgen take a step back.

Cain took another deep breath and reminded himself of some basic facts. He
knew
what male Aufhocker were like. Hell, he’d
seen
Jürgen under the effects of female Aufhocker musk before, and it wasn’t pretty. He knew in good consciousness he couldn’t blame Jürgen for this failing. If anything, the failing was
his own.
Cain himself was the one who chose an Aufhocker for his general.

With a final deep exhalation, he turned to face Jürgen once again. ‘Tell me, how did Maggie get here? She’s clearly been sent as a honey trap by the mafia. How could she have travelled this far? She can’t have made this distance alone. She shouldn’t have been able to get through the wards.’

Jürgen shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea, I didn’t, errr, get the opportunity to ask her.’

‘I’d believe that.’

Without waiting for his anger to rear its head again, Cain sent a healing spell and cloaked Jürgen’s body with it. His magic shimmered around the guard and he watched the flesh and skin on his hands knit with a spicy smell.

It was the only apology he was able to give.

With that one spell Jürgen straightened up, the stooped, dejected figure he posed was cast aside and a smile grew on his lips. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘So…you got to Sabra in time, did you?’ He raised a pale eyebrow. ‘Eh? Eh?’

‘You’re incorrigible,’ Cain replied coolly, but couldn’t help a slight twitch tugging on his lips.

‘I’m sorry to disrupt the
love-in
.’ Christy’s voice was sharp and sliced the warming atmosphere like a cold wind.

Cain turned and faced her. With only a slight hesitation he offered the pot of
lao-hai
. She shook her head and glared at Jürgen. ‘Not putting my lips onto anything that dog’s been sucking on.’

‘Better not kiss your mother then,’ Jürgen retorted.

Christy growled loudly.

‘Stop!’ Cain bellowed, and the two generals froze. He glared them down, until they shuffled in their boots like the recalcitrant children they were behaving like. ‘If you can stop your incessant bickering for one moment, can you tell me if the Rakshasa have come back?’

‘No, we’ve heard nothing,’ Christy replied sulkily.

Her words made Cain’s pulse hammer a little faster. The Rakshasa had never let him down, they had always been overly eager to please.

‘Nothing? How many went out?’

‘Six,’ Christy replied, and ran a clearly bruised hand through her hair. Water droplets rained down on the floor. ‘None have returned.’ She’d changed into fresh cargo pants and they were snug around her muscular thighs. She wore a new jungle camouflage tank top, though this one was longer and only showed a glimpse of her hard toned abs, but one arm hung injured and weak from the shoulder.

Cain took another sip, and then rested the earthen jar back on the credenza. His hand went to his pocket and he felt for the mobile telephone. It hadn’t rung, so surely Sabra was safe.

Yet, as the thought struck him, the telephone began to ring. The buzz rumbled deep in his pocket and his hand jolted towards it with an uncharacteristic fumble.

He jerked his head at Jürgen and Christy, a gesture of dismissal.

‘Sabra?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was breathy and nervous-sounding.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asked quickly. He could see Jürgen and Christy hover near the doorway, their werewolf and Aufhocker hearing probably allowing them to hear every word.

‘Fine, I’m fine.’ Her voice faltered. ‘It’s just…’

‘Have the government found you? Mafia? Shadows?’

‘No…No…’ Sabra hastened to reply. ‘I just want to say something.’

Relief made his muscles instantly relaxed. ‘What is it?’

There was a slight hesitation and he could hear the thriae whistling in the background.

‘I wanted to say thank you.’

Thank you?

Her voice petered out.

For what? Does she want me to come and get her? His heart sped up.

‘Thank you for the flowers.’

Cain was silent. ‘Flowers?’ he repeated.
What flowers?

‘Yes.’ He could hear the smile in Sabra’s voice. ‘The flowers you had delivered. They just arrived. They’re gorgeous. How did you know I like roses?’

Then she giggled. She actually giggled.

He knew with miserable clarity that someone had found her. The Australian Government? Mafia? Shadow Men? Laotian snipers? His chest tightened.

Fuck.

There was nothing he could do.

‘Was anyone there when you opened the door?’ he asked, striving to keep his voice neutral.

There was a pause, before Sabra replied. ‘No, just the beautiful roses. I’ve never seen such gorgeous blooms.’ She hesitated, and a soft laugh bubbled down the line. ‘Is this part of a new scheme to woo me? Well, let me tell you…’ Her voice lowered to a whisper. ‘This kind of wooing, well,
it works
.’

***

Sabra gazed at the enormous multi-coloured bouquet of roses that rested on the table and smiled into the phone.

Cain had only been gone a few hours but Sabra had already found herself missing his quiet calm presence. She’d spent an hour or so practicing her ability, but mostly she’d spent it thinking about him.

Her eyes lingered on the blue box that he’d left, but her smile faltered as she registered silence on the other end of the phone.