Burning Bright (Ivy Granger) (15 page)

“You’re cleared to enter, but stick with me,” he said.  “No
detours, you got me?”

“Sure, whatever,” I said.

Muscles looked me over, eyes hovering over my forearms,
lower back, and ankle—oh yeah, this guy knew exactly where I kept my blades—his
bulk blocking my path.

“Master Janus says you’re not to be searched and you can
keep your weapons, some kind of special dispensation due to OCD or PTSD or some
shit, but I see you so much as scratch your ass and I’ll cut you,” he said. 
“Got it?”

Asshole.
  How does Jenna put up with these meatheads?

“I hear you,” I said.  “Loud and clear.”

I tried to act cool, but inside I was pissing my pants.  I’d
never been bodily searched during my previous visits, but the new policy made
sense if the Hunters’ Guild was gearing up for the coming battle.  Thank Mab
that either Kaye or Jenna had mentioned my touch phobia to Janus or things
could have got messy quick.

Of course, that also meant that the Guild new my
weaknesses.  I swallowed hard and fought to keep up with Muscles.

He marched me through the parade grounds, which I was pretty
sure used to be the old bus loop, and up a gravel drive.  At the entrance to
the administrative building, a young man in cargo pants, combat boots, and a
tight fitted t-shirt came running out and saluted Muscles.

“I’ll take it from here, Hendricks,” he said.

Hendricks?  Must be Muscles’ real name, and just when I was
getting used to the ring of it.  Hendricks thrust out his chest and stared the
new guy down.  Cargo Pants was half of Hendricks’ size, but he stood his
ground.

“By whose orders, whelp?” Hendricks scoffed.  “Yours?”

“Don’t need orders, just common sense,” Cargo Pants said.  He
nodded back toward the way we’d come.  “Someone needs to watch the gate, and
last time I checked the roster, that person was you.”

A muscle twitched in Hendricks’ cheek, but he blew out a
breath and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” he said.  “You can have the bitch.  She’s just
your type, a Grade-A pain in the ass.”

With that, Hendricks turned and swaggered back toward the
gate.  Cargo Pants waited until the crunch of gravel beneath heavy boots faded
then treated me to a brilliant, yet rueful smile.  He had the most amazingly
perfect, white teeth—all except for the canines, which were impossibly long and
sharp.

Werewolf?  If so, then the Hunters’ Guild’s recruiting
practices had changed as of late.  Either that or the rumor that they were a
solely human organization was smoke and mirrors.  Hard to tell when you’re dealing
with a secret society with a labyrinthine hierarchical structure based on
initiating its members into even greater degrees of secrecy.

I pushed away the image my brain conjured of me wearing a
red cloak and holding a picnic basket—damn I was overtired—and smiled back at
Cargo Pants.

“Sorry about Hendricks, he’s an ass,” he said.  He started
to reach out to shake hands, thought better of it, and rubbed the back of his
neck—which meant he probably knew about my touch phobia.  “You’re Ivy Granger,
right?”

I nodded slowly and tilted my head to the side.

“You seem to know me, but I don’t recognize you,” I said. 
“You got a name, or am I going to have to call you Cargo Pants all day—or maybe
you prefer Big Bad.”

His eyes flashed silver and I knew I was right.  I’d be
damned, the guy was a werewolf.  True shapeshifters like werewolves and
skinwalkers don’t use a glamour to conceal their animal forms, so there’s
nothing for my second sight to see through.  But that didn’t mean there weren’t
ways to know what I was dealing with.  Just like in poker, everybody’s got a
tell.

And those eyes were telling me that Cargo Pants may be a lot
of things, but he sure as hell wasn’t human.  Skinwalkers have golden eyes, so
I was leaning toward were.  After Hendricks’ “whelp” insult, I was thinking
wolf.

“My name’s Jonathan, Jonathan Baldwin,” he said.  “I’m a
friend of Jenna’s.”

“Does Jenna know you’re a werewolf?” I asked.

His eyes widened, mouth dropping open.
Bingo.

“Jesus, she was right, you get straight to the point, don’t
you?” he asked.

“No time for bullshit,” I said with a shrug.  “I’m too busy
saving the city from the stuff the Guild doesn’t bother with, or doesn’t know
about.  And you haven’t answered the question.”

“Okay, fine, but can we talk while we walk?” he asked.  He
looked around nervously.  There were young, heavily armed men and women moving
busily throughout the campus and we’d started to catch their notice.  “And keep
your voice down?  Jenna knows what I am, but not everyone here does, and I’d
like to keep it that way.  In case you haven’t noticed, Hunters aren’t always
the most tolerate when it comes to paranormals.”

I snorted.  That was an understatement.  I couldn’t imagine
what some of these guys would think if they knew that a werewolf was in their
midst.  Though it did beg the question of how a paranormal had infiltrated such
an exclusive club.

Jonathan started walking and I matched his stride.

“So how do you know Jenna?” I asked.

I kept my eyes on the corridors and galleries as we passed,
careful not to look too interested in what the guy next to me was saying.  If
someone was watching, it probably looked like he was giving the visitor a tour.

“We’re roommates, or at least we were before they sent her
out of the country,” he said.

I felt his body tense and knew he wasn’t too thrilled with
the Guild’s decision to ship the young Hunter off to Europe.  In that, Jonathan
and I were in perfect agreement.

“Roommates, really?” I asked.  “How’d that happen?  I would
have thought the old geezers in charge would have frowned on that.”

“We’re bunkmates, not lovers,” he said.  I caught the
wistfulness in his voice and winced.  Jenna and Jonathan may not have hooked
up, but that didn’t mean the guy wasn’t interested.  If I had to guess, I’d say
he was nursing a crush on my Hunter friend.  “Nobody else wanted to room with
Jenna, not after she knocked a few heads together for idiots not respecting her
personal space.  So I gave up my single on the condition that Master Janus gave
me permission to let Jenna in on my secret.”

So the Guild did know about the fact that Jonathan was a
werewolf, interesting.  I filed the information away for later.

Jonathan rubbed at a scar above his right eye and I
suspected that he and Jenna had come to blows too.  There was probably a story
there.  I shook my head and paused.

“I don’t get it,” I said.  “I know Jenna’s tough as nails,
but why the need to prove herself?”

“It was more than that,” he said.  “Girls have it harder
here than guys, so she did have to prove herself more than once, but the fights
in the dormitories weren’t just bluster.  For Jenna, it was survival.”

“Are you telling me someone here was trying to hurt her?” I
asked.

I had to breathe slowly and deeply to keep my rage at bay. 
If my skin started glowing this deep inside the guildhall, I’d be screwed.

“Not here, it was before she was initiated into the Guild,”
he said.  He frowned.  “Look I’m only telling you this because Jenna said that
you’re her friend and that I could trust you.”

I nodded.

“She had a tough life before coming here,” he said.  “Her
parents were murdered and she was in and out of the foster system for years.”

“I didn’t know,” I said.

I winced.  Jenna had never shared anything about her past
and I’d never bothered to ask.

“It’s not uncommon,” he said, shrugging.  “The Guild often
recruits orphans when the system lets them down.  But I think things were
especially bad for Jenna.  She was more…haunted than most, though she did a
good job of hiding it during the day.”

“But it’s hardest to hide from your ghosts at night,” I said,
and Jonathan nodded.

I should know.  There’s nothing like sleep to tear down your
defenses and let the nightmares in.  I’d woken up Jinx with my screams more
often than I’d like to admit.

“Yeah, which made her a bitch to room with,” he said,
grinning.  “Though I don’t imagine bunking with a werewolf was easy for her
either.”

“Have you heard from her since she left?” I asked.

“No,” he said.  “Not a word.”

His face clouded over and his eyes flashed silver.

“Any idea how dangerous her mission is?” I asked.

I’d assumed that her bosses had shipped her off as
punishment for attacking Hans.  But Kaye’s comments had been nagging at me. 
Maybe they had sent Jenna off on some top secret mission in order to advance
her training.  Odds were, it was a bit of both.

“All I know is they sent her to Belgium,” he said.  “That’s
bad.”

I raised an eyebrow.  When I think of warzones, I do not
think of Belgium.  If you’re going to get shipped out of the country, it didn’t
sound like a bad post to me.  Wasn’t Belgium the land of beer and chocolate? 
How could that be bad?

“How so?” I asked.

“Belgium might be safe for people in the human world, but
not for Hunters,” he said.  “Paranormals have been deeply entrenched in the
European countries for centuries, and they share a bloody history with the
Guild—one they’re not likely to forgive or forget.”

“But if that’s true, why send a teenage girl there?” I
asked.  Jonathan bristled, but I held up a gloved hand.  “I’m not saying she’s
weak.  We both know she’s a cute as hell killing machine.  But she’s young for
that kind of solo assignment, isn’t she?”

“It’s unusual to be sent to the Old Country at this point in
her training, especially on her own,” he said, running a hand through his hair. 
“I should have been sent with her.”

“So why do you think the Guild sent her flying solo into a
viper’s nest of paranormals?” I asked.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” he said.

He turned to stare at me and a sick feeling crept into my
gut.

“Are you hiring me to find Jenna?” I asked.

If that’s what Jonathan was asking, I’d have to refuse.  As
much as I liked and respected Jenna, there were people who needed me here in
Harborsmouth.  Not to mention the fact that I was running on a deadline.  I was
nowhere near ready for the summer solstice.

Heck, with my debts to the vamps and The Green Lady in play,
I may not even survive the night.

“No,” he said.  I briefly closed my eyes.  I wouldn’t have to
turn the guy down, thank Mab.  “But if you learn anything, I’d like to know.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

Jonathan stopped in front of an office door and I could read
the tension in his neck and shoulders.

“This is Master Janus’ office,” he said.

“You’ll let me know if you hear from Jenna?” I whispered.

He nodded.

I rubbed my arms and looked up and down the hall.  We were
deep inside the administrative building, far from any exits, and the only door
in this corridor was the one I now faced.

I took a deep breath and nodded for Jonathan to go ahead.  There
were so many questions I’d like to have had answered, but it looked like our
time was up.

A
t Jonathan’s
knock, a gruff voice barked for us to enter.  I took a deep breath, squared my
shoulders, and prepared to face one of the Hunters’ Guild’s most formidable
local masters.  But Jonathan didn’t open the door.  I shot him a questioning
glance and he flicked his eyes downward.

There, held between our bodies, was an envelope folded so
many times it was the size of a quarter.  Jonathan held it out to me, looking
furtively up and down the hall.  I was loath to touch anything that came from
the lovesick werewolf, but my curiosity won out.

He mouthed “from Jenna” and I gingerly grabbed the note with
gloved hands and slipped it inside my jacket pocket for later.  With the
envelope safely stashed away, Jonathan turned the knob and opened the door
wide.

I walked slowly into the office, doing a quick scan for
potential threats.  I’d feel better having Jonathan at my back, but with a nod
to his boss, the werewolf bowed and left the room, closing the door behind me. 
Aside from two armchairs, a heavy wooden desk, and the old books and artifacts
that lined the floor to ceiling shelves, the place was empty, but my fingers
still itched for my weapons.  That probably had something to do with the man
sitting behind the desk.

Master Janus may be the head of the Harborsmouth Hunters’
Guild, but he wasn’t an old geezer by my standards, far from it.  The man was a
powerhouse of lean muscle and sharp intellect, but the gray hair dusting his
temples, sideburns, and short beard, and the creases at his eyes bellied his
age—and garnered respect amongst his men.

 Janus was in his forties, which was ancient for a Hunter.  Hunters
fought hard and died young.  Wrinkles were a luxury that few Hunters ever lived
to receive.  But living to the ripe old age of forty was only one of the man’s
many accomplishments.

In an organization as competitive as the Hunters’ Guild,
Janus had climbed his way to the rank of Master.  That was no small feat.  Some
said he was soon on his way to becoming Grand Master, an honor bestowed to few
Hunters.  From what Kaye and Jenna had shared, there were less than a dozen
Grand Masters worldwide.

One look at the man’s sword-calloused hands, ripped muscles,
and curious hazel eyes and it was no wonder he’d come so far in a guild that
prized secrets, combat skills, leadership, and military cunning.  That didn’t
mean I had to stand here shaking in my boots.

I strode forward and dropped uninvited into the chair facing
the guild master’s desk.  I never was one for ceremony.

Janus let out a noisy breath, posture stiffening and, for a
moment, I thought he was going to grab a sword.  Instead, he pounded his hand
against the hard surface of the desk, which made me jump.  Janus let out a bark
of raucous laughter.