Ghost Soldiers (37 page)

The inner office kept up the veneer of opulence. Persian rugs. Rosewood bookshelves. A gold-framed painting of a sequoia forest. Tiffany lamps on two massive Zitan wood desks pushed together side by side. A white staff with dangling raven feathers leaned against the desk on the right.

A male werewolf in wolfbreed form stood in the corner of the room, upright on two powerful legs, his lips pulled back from his teeth and his black nostrils flaring. Golden eyes watched their every move. A woman with amber eyes and a light gray suit sat in a huge leather executive chair at the left-hand desk, a man sat in an identical chair on the right. The woman's silver hair gleamed under the soft lights, but her face seemed severe, deep lines around the mouth and eyes, and lips slicing downward in a frown. The man wore a charcoal suit, maroon tie and played with a gold cufflink as he frowned at them with a preacher's judging eyes.

“Nice chairs,” Maria said.

The woman smiled without humor. She looked at Tyrell. “Were you followed?”

“Nope.”

She turned to Damon. “Any sign of the Thorn?”

“None,” Damon answered. “They aren't wearing wires or locators. Valerie checked their car for tracking devices and just called in saying she found none.”

The woman nodded and turned back to Karl. “Welcome. I am Carolyn Giroux, alpha female of the Blackstone Wolf Clan.” She indicated the man beside her. “This is Martin Giroux, alpha male of the Blackstone, and my mate. We wish to parlay in peace under the Old Laws.”

“I agree,” Karl said.

“We have one condition before we begin.” Martin Giroux looked directly at Xiesha. “Your pet creature must wait for you outside the office. This is between vampires and wolves alone.”

Karl turned to leave without another word. He'd heard these particular alphas were touchy, but he'd not stand by and watch Xiesha insulted. Better no allies than allies who behaved like enemies, claiming the Old Laws and then insulting guests.

Xiesha put her hand on his arm and smiled as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Don't worry, Master. I shall wait outside as they wish.” She cut a glance at Martin. “Perhaps at some later hour the Blackstone Clan will show better hospitality.”

He watched her go. Damon shut the door behind her but stayed in the room with his alphas. Now the odds were three to five, vamps to wolves—not counting all the other wolves outside the doors. He could feel Bailey's tension crackling across their link, and could see by the set of Maria's shoulders she was ready for anything.

“Now, how can the wolves of the Blackstone Clan be of service?” Carolyn asked.

“A sorcerer named Sorin Cojocaru has come to Boston.” No surprise from either of them, so they knew already. “Join your resources to mine and we can destroy him.”

“Why don't you have your
friends
in the Thorn eliminate this problem?” Martin said.

“The Thorn is trying to kill us.”

Carolyn and Martin watched him but didn't reply.

Bailey spoke into the silence. “If you won't stand with us, Cojocaru will sweep across this city, enslaving wolves, vampires, fae and shadowlings alike.”

“He won't dare move against us, child,” Martin said, and Bailey looked as if she'd chugged half a container of sour milk when he said the word
child
.

Carolyn cocked her head and never broke eye contact with Karl. “There must be a better reason for our Clan to go to war. A vague threat from some foreigner isn't enough. If he
is
as powerful as you say, and we attack him, we may only provoke his wrath. If we do nothing, we risk nothing.”

“If you do nothing, you risk everything. He expects all to join his crusade, one way or another. He uses enchanted slave collars to enforce his will. Do you wish to wear a collar, wolf?”

Martin frowned at him. “We already know about this sorcerer's crusade.”

“He sent his Nassid to you,” Maria said.

“He sent his servant, that's true.” Carolyn glanced at Martin and back to her. “We expressed interest but didn't commit. We have many things to consider before taking action that may endanger the pack.”

Bailey snorted. “He wants to carve out his own country—somewhere free of humans and the Thorn—”

“A goal I admire,” Martin said. “It'd be good to walk in truth as wolves. Proud. Good to howl and hunt when we wished, without fear of the wolfers and their
silver
.”

“And Cojocaru wants to rule it.”

The alpha pair stayed silent.

“We can ally and stop him,” Karl said. “Keep Boston the way it is now, with all the balances of power and peace. Divided, all of us will fall to him.”

Martin spoke immediately. “The Blackstone Clan's answer is no.”

Carolyn glanced at him and her lips twitched, showing the briefest flash of teeth before she turned back to Karl. “We can't be alphas to the Clan and serve another, and serving a creature who isn't a wolf is absolutely out of the question. It would destroy what the pack stands for.”

“And in matters of war, I have final say.” Martin touched a black feather on the white staff. “I won't join our people with a vampire who has the blood of wolves on his hands.”

“I have the blood of wolves on my hands.” Karl kept his voice cold, uninflected. “I have lots of blood on my hands. I never discriminate.”

The wolfbreed in the corner growled, low and ominous—a racecar engine at the starting line.

Martin held up a hand and the wolfbreed fell silent. “Those words don't make me think better of you, Karl Vance. You already put the city in turmoil with your vampire wars.” His amber eyes cut to Maria. “And this one, with her gangland bloodshed. You've both put our pack in jeopardy.”

“I don't remember my business involving the wolves,” Maria said.

“These things ripple outward,” Carolyn replied. “And we've heard from various contacts that you no longer run things. It seems the humans are back in charge.”

Maria shrugged and looked at one of the paintings as if she couldn't care less what they believed. “Sometimes word on the streets is wrong.”

Carolyn and Martin looked at one another. Something seemed to pass between them. Karl suspected they spoke across their telepathic bond.

Martin turned back to him. “The Blackstone Wolf Clan will not support you. We're neutral in this war. Unless…unless there is something you can do for us worthy of some intercession.”

“What do you want?”

Martin Giroux leaned forward, folding his hands together. “Your services as an assassin.”

Kill someone. It always came down to paying in someone's blood. A currency he could never seem to escape.

“You've got some gall,” Maria said. “You expect Karl to kill for you? When you won't even take a stand by our side? You want to slink around in your den with your tails between your legs—”

Growls from the wolfbreed and from Martin Giroux and Damon this time. Karl looked at them each in turn, saying nothing, until the growls died. Carolyn didn't move, her amber eyes unreadable. The tension in the air twisted tighter.

“You don't need to trouble your conscience about our targets.” Martin Giroux shrugged and his lip curled. “Just a rogue thieving wolf and her mongrel, pack-less
mate
. You don't need to know any more than that. The others are part of the Order of the Thorn. Surely you've no qualms about killing those murderers?”

Tyrell tensed. Karl shifted his eyes to him for an instant, but Tyrell's face had gone back to a mask of indifference. What had set him off? The rogue wolf comment or the Thorn? Carolyn Giroux had caught something too and watched Tyrell. The whole thing didn't feel right. He didn't trust them. This had been a mistake.

“No,” Karl finally answered. “Do your own dirty work.”

Martin stood slowly. “Then we don't have a deal. It seems there's nothing more to discuss. Damon, please see our guests out.”

Karl bowed slightly. “My regrets, but thank you for your time.”

Carolyn rose and she and Martin bowed together, mirroring him. “It's a shame there is no more trust between wolves and vampires. The old days are gone.”

“Everything comes to an end sometime.”

“May the forest always give you shelter and game.” Martin's tone was formal, but there was a contemptuous twist to his mouth.

Karl nodded. He turned and followed Damon and Tyrell, balancing on the edge of readiness in case the wolfbreed or the alphas suddenly made a play. Maria and Bailey fell into step beside him. They collected Xiesha, and the pack members in the outer office watched them go.

“We'd prefer if you remained discreet about the existence of this office,” Damon warned. “We have similar enemies.”

Maria's lips twitched enough to show a flash of fang. “We aren't rats.”

Damon stared at her—his expression indicating he knew no such thing.

“I'll ride down with them,” Tyrell told Damon. “Don't howl for me when I'm gone.”

Damon and Tyrell locked eyes before Damon turned on his heel and walked away. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Tyrell said, almost to himself, “All war is deception.”

Karl looked at him. “Sun Tzu.”

“What? Because a brother speaks the language of the street means he must be some uneducated little thug? Didn't you hear what I just said?”

“You've been waiting all night to show that off, haven't you?” Bailey asked.

“Damn straight.” Tyrell grinned. “Unless you want me to show something else off, my little fairy Goth princess.”

“Jesus Christ.” Maria leaned against the rail with her arms folded and stared at the numbers counting down. “What a fucking waste of time. I knew it. We're always on our own.”

They spent the rest of the elevator ride down in silence. Tyrell stopped him when they were well out in the underground parking garage. “I'll do it.”

Karl put his hands in his pockets and stared at the man, saying nothing.

Tyrell frowned. “I'm fucking serious, man. You need help. I'll get your back. I got some wolves that'll run with me.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why the fuck does it matter? I'm offering you at least four sets of claws. You're hard up. Why the fuck you turn that shit down?”

“Your alphas already refused.”

“Let me tell you something about those
alphas
. You know that contract they offered, that first little job they wanted you to do? Yeah. That motherfucker wants you to off one of our own wolves—someone they kicked out of the pack because she was stupid and fell in love with the wrong
hombre
.”

“What?” Maria walked over and stood beside Karl. Her eyes glowed vampire red.

“You heard me right. They took everything that girl had, even tried to have her boyfriend capped, then got all bent when she bit back. I liked that kid, and I ain't gonna stand for that kind of shit anymore.”

“Sounds like you're talking about a big change.” Maria stared at him. “You expect me to believe you're risking your ass over some woman your pack stepped on?”

“Hell, it's more than that. Those two alphas, they'd feed you promises, play you against the Thorn like a fool, both sides against the other. So for me, this here's an opportunity—and ‘opportunities multiply as they're seized.' More Sun Tzu for your eager ears. I'm ranked a beta in the hierarchy, but one of the lowest rung betas. If they have their way, I'll never lead a pack. Why? This ain't strength, this is money and influence. I don't bring in enough gravy for those rich-ass alphas and wolves like Mr. Damon Wheelan. That motherfucker's a stockbroker, and you saw how he looked at me. I'm scrambling. But this here…” He shrugged. “Anything could happen.”

“Just somebody else looking to climb the ladder.” Maria shook her head.

Tyrell's eyes narrowed and his face grew hard. “This shit is personal. I worked my ass off all my life, and what does Martin Giroux want me to do for the pack? Go back to slinging weed. Thought I'd escaped all that shit, but no. This face had a different color, or if I'd grown up in the 'burbs like Damon, they'd never dare make me do that shit. So I bide my time. Let them have their fuckin' stereotype. Someday they'll pay. Someday a wolf might bring back a little honor to the game. Maybe soon.”

“What's your offer?” Karl asked.

Tyrell gave him a wide smile with a bit of the wolf in it. “I bring some of my trusted boys along to your little party. We help you tear the shit out of this Romanian joker, you help me when the time comes to, say, change out the old guard.”

Bailey looked at him as if he'd gone mad. “You want us to throw ourselves into a pack civil war? For the promise of
five
wolves?”

“I deliver results, my little fairy Goth princess, so don't you worry your punky blue head.”

“Stand back, Karl,” Bailey said. “I have to bite him.”

Tyrell laughed. “Not too hard, though.” He glanced back at Maria. “And I want the Blackstone free of your little Ricardi protection rackets and whatnot after I'm top dog.”

“Keep dreaming,” she replied. “There's always a street tax. Once we get our teeth in something, we never let it go.”

“Shit. I don't like what I'm hearin' so far.”

“I won't murder innocent wolves,” Karl said.

“Yeah? Heard you done it before.” Tyrell ran a hand across his shaved head. “But the Girouxes come nowhere near innocent. Trust me.”

Xiesha leaned against the side of the car. “Trust is earned, werewolf.”

Tyrell glanced at her, frowning, then looked back at Karl. “I don't want good wolves to die either. One job. We cap those two. Leave the rest to me.”

A werewolf war…it could go bad in so many ways. And what if Tyrell lied about Carolyn and Martin Giroux? Karl might now know for certain they'd been in contact with Cojocaru, but was there an alliance? Still, even a few wolves might make the difference between success and failure when he went after the sorcerer.