Zola's Pride (2 page)

Walker’s face mirrored her
guilt, but there was nothing relieved about it. “That’s
not the only reason I came.”

Of course not. Seers were the most
powerful creatures to walk the earth—when had the death of one
ever come without pain and trouble for those left in the rubble of
their broken lives? “Tell me.”

He shifted his weight from one foot
to the other. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

She could take him next door, to the
coffee shop, but she imagined nothing he had to say could be said in
the presence of humans. Bringing him to her home was too trusting,
too intimate—but denying him felt like cowardice.

Pride had always been her folly.
“Come upstairs. I’ll make you some coffee.”

Walker had thought that nothing
about Zola’s present life could shock him. She’d always
been a free spirit, and he’d had to acknowledge at the outset
of his search that he had no idea where or how he’d find her,
which was predictable in its own way. But the one thing he hadn’t
seen coming was that she might have run back to New Orleans. “I
didn’t expect you to be in Louisiana.”

No one who didn’t know her
would have noticed the tiny flinch, the way her shoulders tensed up
and squared, a telling defensive gesture. “New Orleans is a
good place for a cat. The wolves ignore me.”

“
I know.” He’d
grown up in the bayou, south of the city. “I guess all the
stories about my old stomping ground made it sound irresistible.”

The coffee cup she’d pulled
from the cupboard smashed into the counter hard enough to fracture,
and she hissed her frustration. “I didn’t come here
because of you,” she said stiffly as she shoved the cup aside
and reached for another. “And why I am here is irrelevant. Why
are
you
here?”

Easy enough to answer, and it still
might get him kicked out of her apartment. “I need your help.”

Zola didn’t seem surprised.
“Yes, Seers rarely die quiet deaths. I suppose she left a mess
behind?”

That was one way to put it.
“Tatienne ran into some trouble with a mercenary group in
Portugal. It was bad.”

“
How bad?”

“
Bad enough for them to follow
us.” Bad enough for them to kill most of the pride.

She turned slowly, eyes narrowed,
face tight. “Why me? Why throw yourself on
my
mercy when not one of you had a sliver of compassion in your hearts
when she drove me out? I am not a martyr, not for any man. Not even
for you.”

Yes, she would assume no one had
cared, because the truth was an unthinkable horror, one he would
never reveal to her if he could help it. “I cared, Zola. You
have to know I did.”

“
Maybe.” She turned
again, gave him her back—this time in a clear show of
disrespect. “Maybe not enough.”

There was nothing to say, no
soothing words to offer. “The pride is mine—what’s
left of it, anyway—and all I want to do is keep them alive.
Keep them safe.”

“
You want to move them here?”
Disbelief painted the words. She spun to face him, and her fingers
twitched toward her palm, a warning sign that her temper burned hot.
Ten years ago she would have followed through, formed a fist and
struck him. Her passions had always ridden close to the surface, but
maturity had clearly tempered them with restraint.

“
New Orleans is the safest
place,” he told her calmly. “Surely a half-dozen lions
who only want to keep to themselves won’t get in your way.”

“
Oh, are we civilized now? Are
we
human
?”
She abandoned the coffee she’d poured for him and stalked
across the hardwood floor to slam a hand to the table next to him.
Then she leaned into his space, filling the air with the angry sizzle
of a shapeshifter challenge. “I will not be forced from my home
again.”

Keeping a leash on his own reaction
cost him dearly. There were few ways to react to such a challenge,
and they all ended in violence or sex—neither of which was an
option, not if they both wanted to keep their heads on straight. “I’m
the only one left, Zola. The only one who stood by while Tatienne
drove you out. And I’ll—I’ll leave as soon as the
rest of the pride is settled.”

She recoiled, leaving only the
lingering scent of her skin. “You’re asking me to lead.”

A frisson of irritation made him
grit his teeth. “Those are your options, Zola. Lead or follow.
You can’t stay alone in your territory forever.”

“
I don’t—”
She bit off the words and paced away from him, leashed energy
vibrating with every step. “You haven’t told me enough.
Why do you need to come here? Why are there only a half-dozen of you
left? My mother had more followers than all of the lions in this
country combined.”

The truth was uncomfortable because,
willing or not, he’d been a party to it. “She did, and
now they’re all dead.”

She reached the far wall and
pivoted, meeting his gaze across the space that separated them. “Are
you still being hunted?”

“
Yes.” Walker waved to
the other end of the sofa. “Sit down, and I’ll explain
everything.”

Chapter Two

Zola did the only thing she could.
She sat.

A half-dozen lions.
At its height, her mother’s pride had numbered in the forties,
lions from every continent flocking to kneel at the feet of the
generation’s only lion Seer. To imagine that strength reduced
to just a handful—and all strangers. No one who would look on
her and see a vulnerable girl.

Perhaps she could lead them after
all. If she had to. “Was it my mother’s madness?”

“
I don’t think so, not
at first.” Walker sipped his coffee. “There were a lot of
mouths to feed, and the pride needed money. Tatienne said lions made
the best warriors, the fiercest, so she started looking for
underground fights.”

Bloodsport. Not the same as a clean
challenge, not when magical cheats were common and death was all but
guaranteed to anyone who fought long enough. It
was
madness, no matter what Walker claimed.

Worse was knowing whose fighting
skills she would have bartered first. “You fought?”

“
Yeah. Mixed martial arts
stuff, but only the invitationals for supernaturals. I’m not a
cheat. Some of the others weren’t so picky.”

So they’d died. But surely not
so many, so quickly. “And after the fights?”

“
Your mother found other kinds
of work, mercenary stuff.” Walker glanced at her, his eyes
tight with shame. “Mostly bodyguarding or lift jobs, sometimes
intimidation. She sent a couple of the newer guys out once for what I
was pretty sure was a hit, but she knew better than to tell me so.”

Morality had slipped from her
mother’s grasp along with her sanity. Zola’s stomach
knotted at the sheer disgrace of it. Unfair, perhaps—she could
hardly be held responsible for the actions of the mother who’d
driven her away—but she’d always cherished her memories
of an earlier time. Of the woman whose mind hadn’t been
consumed by magic, who had soothed a daughter’s childish hurts
and taught her to be strong and fierce.

But the Tatienne she’d known
had died many years ago. “Why did you stay with her?”

He didn’t deny that he’d
wanted to leave. “By the time I realized how far gone she was,
I couldn’t abandon the others.”

“
How far did it go?”

“
Too far.” He set his
cup on the table with a clatter. “She was already dancing close
to the edge, and Portugal was the last straw. She’d managed to
move in on another group’s territory, was stealing their
commissions. That got their attention, but what held it was
Tatienne.”

Walker hurt. His pain dug hooks into
her heart, tore at the scabs of wounds she’d thought long since
healed. Words of love hadn’t been the only kind they’d
whispered on long nights in the desert. She could remember all too
easily the way her chest had ached as her mother turned cold, how
Walker had taken her in his arms and comforted her after each
argument, each fight.

Every one but the last, and that
stood between them, a wall she couldn’t knock down. It wasn’t
her place to touch his cheek or his hair, to give him that gift, that
knowledge of belonging. All she could do was coax him to finish the
story, though she could guess the end. “They targeted her
because she was a Seer?”

“
They call themselves the
Scions of Ma’at,” he answered. “They’re
mercenaries who work in basic pair groups—a shifter and a spell
caster. They train together, live together, you name it. Each pair is
considered one entity. One fighter. They’re all about balance
and order, and Tatienne’s nature offended that.”

The name tugged at a memory, but it
slipped away before she could grasp it. “But they’ve
killed her. They’ve killed so many. Why are they still hunting
you?”

“
Because they haven’t
settled the score yet. We—” Walker rose and paced to the
other side of the room. “We killed even more of them.”

“
And they seek vengeance?”

“
An eye for an eye,” he
muttered grimly. “That’s their idea of balance. Of
justice. Maybe they’re not wrong in theory, but the people I
brought over had nothing to do with what happened.”

And only six yet lived. “How
many lives do they demand?”

He turned and met her gaze. “All
of them. All of
us
.”

Her lips parted to give voice to the
protest growing inside her, one borne of instinct and ancient
feelings, not logic. Years might have passed, but she remembered what
it was like to feel the familiar press of his power and know he was
hers
.

She shielded herself with logic.
“Surely they’ll be cautious about chasing you into this
country. The wolves’ Conclave might not always be efficient,
but they can be ruthless against outsiders.”

“
I’d hoped as much.”
he admitted, “but I can’t rely on the Scions’
willingness to shy away from pissing off the wolves. For all I know,
they don’t give a damn.”

There was one way to find out, and
it was probably the reason he’d come to her in the first place.
“You want me to call Alec Jacobson.”

“
I hear he’s the one in
charge around here.”

“
He’s the one in charge
of the wolves.” A distinction Alec didn’t always
understand, but one she had no intention of letting anyone forget.

Walker scratched the back of his
head in a familiar gesture. “Then he’s in charge, Zola.
The wolves run the States, or have you forgotten?”

He’d been gone a long time,
long enough that he might not know how petty the leaders of the
wolves had become. “The Conclave might unite against an outside
enemy, but they’re weakened. Not what they were. As long as I
don’t confront them, they do not try to rule me.”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll
leave it up to you. All I care about is getting the ball rolling. I
need to make sure my people are safe.”

“
I’ll call Alec
Jacobson.” A concession, but not as big as the one she was
about to make. “You should stay here tonight.”