She rested a hand on her gun. “No thanks.”
Jaycee’s eyes sparked with insult. “Do you know who Pierce Hardwick is, shifter?”
“I’m guessing a member of the Winter Court,” Deirdre said. “Forgive me if I don’t want to get enchanted today.”
“He was the CEO of Hardwick Medical Research. He’s the reason your kind don’t die of silver poisoning anymore. Do you really think he’d waste his enchantments on
you
?”
Deirdre wasn’t impressed by Jaycee’s grandiose proclamation. She’d never heard of this Hardwick Medical Research, and she’d taken several doses of the cure for silver poisoning. She glanced at Stark. “Are these people for real?”
“Heel, Beta,” Stark said. “I invited them here.”
But he didn’t shake Pierce Hardwick’s hand either.
They stood on opposite ends of the meeting room, surveying each other with barely bridled hostility.
Deirdre understood now why Stark had only wanted her to attend the meeting. It wasn’t because he trusted her more than other members of his pack or because he wanted her unique perspective at the meeting. It was because they were visiting with enemies, and Stark had wanted a guard who wouldn’t be vulnerable to the sidhe.
She was, after all, the shifter who couldn’t shift. She wouldn’t make an appealing target for abduction.
“What have you got for me?” Stark finally asked, breaking the uneasy silence.
“As you’ve probably heard, Rylie Gresham’s being guarded by seelie sidhe now,” Pierce said. “We can confirm that she has members of the Summer Court at the werewolf sanctuary.”
“They’re our rivals. We of the Winter Court detest our seelie cousins. However, it can’t be denied how powerful they are. Sidhe are the most powerful of the gaean species. We’re invulnerable.” Jaycee announced this with no hint of humility.
“Like hell you are,” Deirdre said. She had the iron bullets to prove it.
“I’d like to see you trying to kill Rylie Gresham’s new guards,” Jaycee said. “I mean it. I would enjoy watching that.”
Pierce settled his hand on her shoulder, silently making the same command that Stark had issued to Deirdre.
Heel
.
“If this information is why you’ve come here, you’re wasting my time,” Stark said. “I hate having my time wasted.” There was a dangerous undertone to his voice that made Deirdre’s hand creep toward her Ruger. “The sidhe aren’t invulnerable. They’re just hard to kill with anything but iron.”
“Virtually impossible,” Pierce said. “You asked for a weapon that would kill the seelie sidhe easily. We know where such a weapon is hidden and we’re willing to broker a deal for the information.”
“I’m listening,” Stark said.
“We’ve been made aware of a weapon,” Jaycee said. “It will kill anything, including the seelie sidhe guarding Rylie Gresham, and even the Alpha herself. It’s called the Infernal Blade.”
A laugh escaped Deirdre. “Next you’re going to tell me that Rylie has Wonder Woman among her personal guard.”
Everyone turned to stare at her.
If there was anything more uncomfortable than being the focus of attention for Everton Stark and two liaisons from the Winter Court, Deirdre couldn’t imagine it.
“Okay, no comic book fans in here.” What she wouldn’t have given for Niamh to be part of the conversation. “The Infernal Blade is from the Godslayer comics. It’s twin to the Ethereal Blade. Get it? Ethereal, infernal, Heaven, Hell… Yeah, anyway, they’re the weapons that this character wields, and they’re not real.”
Stark rounded on Pierce and Jaycee. “Is this true?”
“There was once a woman known as the Godslayer, and she did have the Ethereal and Infernal Blades. They’re real,” Pierce said. “The comics are based on history.”
His mate gave him a funny look. “Have you read them?”
He coughed into his hand, cheeks turning very faintly pink. “Well, time is infinite in the Winter Court, and that means things can get kind of…boring.”
Deirdre warmed to him. Just a fraction.
If he liked comic books, he couldn’t be
that
bad.
“It’s all fiction,” Deirdre said firmly. “I can borrow the series from my friend if you’re curious.”
“It’s not fiction,” Pierce said. “Fictionalized for the purposes of entertainment, yes, but there’s reality behind the mythology. I know this for a fact because we’ve been tipped off to the location of the Infernal Blade, and we’ll let you know where to get it.”
“What do you think?” Stark asked Deirdre.
There was no such thing as an idle question where Stark was concerned. He was asking her to prove her worth as Beta by giving him worthwhile counsel. And if she gave him an answer that turned out bad, then she’d pay for that too.
Deirdre studied the pair of sidhe in front of her. Some werewolves could smell lies because their noses were so good. Deirdre would have loved it if she could have had that sense, because it was impossible to tell if these people were feeding her a line or not. They were beautiful, graceful, and frighteningly serious.
She shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.” Like Genesis. Genesis had been pretty strange. “If it’s true that we could get our hands on the Infernal Blade, it would be worth the risk.”
“Tell me about it,” Stark said.
“It’s about this long.” She spanned her hands two feet apart, indicating a short blade. “It’s curved, with a single cutting edge. The hilt and blade are made of the same material. It’s infernal obsidian, like the kind you find in the Nether Worlds, and it’s poisonous to the touch.”
“What kind of poison?”
She shut her eyes, thinking back on the comics she’d read. “It turns everything it cuts into obsidian. One small slice, and an entire person will turn to stone.” She looked to Pierce. “Right?”
“Correct,” he said.
“And that effect works regardless of breed?” Stark asked.
“It’s known to work against shifters, demons, and angels,” Pierce said.
“And the sidhe?”
Pierce and Jaycee were silent.
So there was the catch.
“It’s never been tested, has it?” Deirdre asked. “The Twin Blades haven’t been seen since Genesis, so they’ve never been used against sidhe.”
“I’m sure it will work,” Pierce said. “It works against angels, for gods’ sake. It must work against denizens of the Summer Court.”
Jaycee brandished her cell phone at Stark. “I have the coordinates stored on a remote server. If you agree, I’ll transmit the location to you so you can retrieve the sword.”
Smart move. It ensured that Stark would have to let them leave the asylum alive. But Deirdre couldn’t resist the urge to poke. “You have servers in the Middle Worlds?”
“Everyone’s servers are in the Middle Worlds,” Jaycee said with an ugly little sneer. “Earth is a Middle World as much as the Winter Court is.”
“And what’s the catch?” Deirdre asked. “I mean, why give us this sword?”
“For one, we’re not giving it to you. You must retrieve it yourselves,” Pierce said. “We won’t help with that.”
“For another, we have a long-standing rivalry with the Summer Court.” Jaycee’s cheeks flushed with excitement, and it sparkled in a dark halo around her hair. “Think of it as a lengthy game of chess. It would be incredibly satisfying to watch the king’s pawns get…taken.”
Stark bristled at the obvious implication that he was one of the Winter Court’s chess pieces.
But his eyes were focused on Jaycee’s phone.
“Transmit it now,” Stark said.
“Not until you give us what we want.”
Deirdre frowned. “You mean something other than the humiliation of your enemies? It sounds like we’d be doing you a favor by going after these guys. And, as you pointed out, you’re not giving us the sword. Just the location. I think it’s a pretty equitable deal without throwing anything else on the pile.”
“Equitability only matters when all factors are even,” Pierce said. “They’re not. Stark wants this weapon. We’re the only ones who know where it is. He can’t get this anywhere else, whereas we can always find someone else to kill members of the Summer Court, and that means there’s a high price.”
And it also meant that it was a price not worth paying.
“We’ll do it,” Stark said. “I agree to your terms.”
The satisfaction of the sidhe radiated. The room blurred around them, taking on a hazy glow. “Fantastic,” Pierce said. He grasped Jaycee’s hand. They glimmered with a diamond shine. The window distorted. The room darkened further.
It was some kind of sidhe magic.
“We’ll be in touch,” Jaycee said.
And then they were gone.
The room was suddenly empty and bright. The sun wasn’t being sponged up by the sidhe anymore.
No wonder Jacek hadn’t been able to stop them from getting into the asylum.
Deirdre felt heavy in their absence, as though it were suddenly impossible to walk. She sank into one of the chairs surrounding the table.
Everton Stark was already a man who could control other shifters with his words and was powerful enough to rip heads off with his bare hands. What would he do with a sword that could turn anything and anyone into stone with a scratch?
“I thought this was a war of media,” Deirdre said. “You told me that killing Rylie would only martyr her. So why are we looking for a sword that will let you assassinate her?”
“It begins as a war of media. But once I win that battle, there will be blood to spill.” Stark wrinkled his nose at Deirdre. He leaned in and inhaled the scent of her hair. “You smell terrible.”
She plucked at her shirt. It was pretty sweaty. It was hard to get clothing clean when their water was so limited, and Deirdre’s lack of showers weren’t helping. “My hygiene’s not a topic of conversation here. We’re strategizing, aren’t we?”
“Not until we get the coordinates. Planning will come after that.”
“What are we giving those people for the coordinates?” Deirdre asked. “It’s gotta be pretty bad.”
“Don’t concern yourself with that.”
“I’m your Beta,” she said. “Everything you do is my concern these days. And if you didn’t want it to be my problem, you wouldn’t have given me the job. Tell me how they’re going to get their pound of flesh, because I am pretty sure it’s not going to be worth it.”
Stark gripped the edge of the table so hard that the wood cracked. The sound was reminiscent of a bone snapping.
He wasn’t glaring at her, though. His eyes were distant. He was lost in memory, somewhere far beyond the asylum.
“Don’t argue with me on this.” His tone was strangely kind—not nearly as angry as she expected. “I’ve made my choice and it’s time for you to move on.” Stark released the table and turned to face the window. “Next time I see you, I don’t want to smell you. Get out of here, Tombs.”
If a terrorist hiding in an abandoned insane asylum said Deirdre smelled bad, she figured she must have smelled pretty rank.
She grabbed a fresh outfit, towels, and a shower cap, then headed to the showers.
The asylum hadn’t been renovated since it had been occupied by the criminally insane, which meant that the bathroom had no stalls. It had shower heads on opposing walls with drains set into the floor. It was windowless and lightless, and the ever-creeping mold was kept at bay only because Stark assigned daily scrubbings to his least favorite pack members.
The room was also uninhabited at the moment.
“Damn.” Deirdre’s voice echoed off of the tile.
She’d been hoping that she could catch some of the other shifter women bathing. The felines tended to do it in a group. There were also enough of them to back Deirdre up if Jacek attacked while they were getting clean.
Deirdre was still trying to decide if it would be more humiliating to get killed in the shower or beaten by Stark for skipping a shower when she heard the noise. Motion echoed from the dark rear corner of the showers.
She reached into her towel to touch the Ruger. “Who’s there?”
Nobody responded.
Deirdre stepped inside. The shape of a woman resolved in the corner. She was naked, huddled against the tile, eyes wild.
Vidya.
She was as filthy as she had been the night that Deirdre had found her. The smell of human filth wafted on a draft.
Deirdre didn’t relax yet. “What are you doing in here?”
The shifter pressed herself tighter against the corner.
Something pitying unfolded within Deirdre’s heart. Vidya was dangerous enough that she’d volunteered with Stark, so there was no reason to feel bad for her. But Deirdre did. She’d seen that haunted look in the eyes of too many gaeans that she’d grown up with.
Deirdre approached slowly. It looked like the woman hadn’t scraped off any of the blood or effluence that caked her skin. It must have been building up for a long time if it managed to cling to her after a shapeshift into her animal form and then back again.
“Do you need help with the showers?” Deirdre asked.
Vidya shook her head. A small, fervent motion.
How could Stark have left her like that? It had been two nights since they liberated Vidya, but she was still wandering around alone and filthy. If he’d cared about her enough to save her from the OPA, he must have cared enough to take care of her in other, equally important ways.
But obviously not.
That thought was what made the decision for Deirdre.
“I’m going to shower. Stick around and I’ll help wash your hair. It’s pretty long. I’m sure you could use an extra pair of hands.” Deirdre casually flipped on half of the lights, keeping the room dim. She started to tuck her hair under a cap. “I can’t shower alone. I have too many enemies.”
Understanding flashed over Vidya’s features.
She stood back as Deirdre jammed a mop against the door handle. It wouldn’t be enough to defend against a shifter’s super strength, but it would give her a moment to grab her gun if they were attacked.
Deirdre turned on two of the showers as hot as possible, which wasn’t very hot with the old water heater. The pressure wasn’t good, either. The water dribbled more than streamed.
She stripped and set everything on a nearby shelf. Distant enough that it wouldn’t get wet, but not so far away that she couldn’t reach it in an emergency.
Deirdre washed Vidya first. The water that sluiced over her body came away a sickening brown color. It swirled into the drain followed by long strands of hair that came loose as Deirdre worked her fingers through the knots.