Green-Eyed Envy (17 page)

I could have kissed him—though no way Scott would have looked past
that
one. Before Victor could insist, I smiled and patted the hand still resting on my arm. “I’m headed back downtown to meet another client.”

Victor’s features relaxed into an easy smile. “Absolutely. At least let me walk you to the train.”

Cass’s voice buzzed in my ear. “I’ll circle Boylston until you get rid of the alley cat.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Scott had apparently been talking to my rookie way too much.

We engaged in interesting but unimportant banter during the ten-minute walk, until something occurred to me. With his medical degree and contacts in the arcane and medical fields, he could well provide the answer to my current debilitating pain problems. Surely
he
knew of someone, preferably several someones, who straddled both the magical and scientific communities the way he did.

I opened my mouth to pose that burning question, then remembered that little ears were listening to our every word and hesitated. True, it was just Cass listening right now rather than Scott or Trinity, but still. This wasn’t something I was ready to share with others just yet—especially not those closest to me. Those who would worry the most . . . not to mention try to talk me
out
of rushing to my mother’s aid the minute this case was closed.

My left hand reached up toward the headset controls and hovered for a moment as guilty conscience warred with pride. Pride won out, and I shut off the mike
and
the earphones this time. I practiced my apology in my head,
I’m sorry, not sure what caused the technical difficulties. They just stopped working.

Scott might not buy it, but Cass would—if he wanted to stay in the MCU for any particular length of time. Besides, not like anything was going to jump out and attack us between here and the Boylston T (what most Bostonians called our subway system) stop. Though, if they did, I could more than handle things, especially with a Cat by my side.

“Victor, I’ve been wondering . . . ”

He tilted his head and smiled. “What deep thoughts have you been pondering in that pretty head of yours?”

“A . . . friend of mine ”—yeah, that was smooth—“has a medical condition that several arcane Healers have attempted to treat and failed. A strictly mundane doctor would have even worse luck treating her condition, but she is growing desperate to find a treatment that will, if not cure her condition, at least alleviate her pain. I—I hate to see her suffer so, and I wondered if there might not be other arcanes like you. Arcanes with medical degrees who could help her.”

His expression became suitably solemn. “It is hard indeed to watch those we love suffer. What a good friend you are for wanting to help her. I
do
know several practicing arcane physicians who could certainly be of more use to her than me.”

My pulse picked up speed, and I squeezed his hand tightly. “Oh, Victor, I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me! And to her.”

By this point, we had reached the entrance to my T stop. He pulled me into an empty store alcove and jotted down several names and numbers on the back of a business card. “I can vouch for any one of these physicians, although they do, of course, have different specialties. Your friend will need to call each to find out if they correspond to her specific condition. Even if none of them do, they will be able to recommend others just as capable.” He pushed the card into my hand, then brought my fingers up to his lips and brushed a kiss against each one.

Gods, but he was hot
and
sweet. Such a devastatingly heady combination. Part of me screamed that it was wrong, but another part of me just couldn’t help reveling in the sensation.

“I don’t know how I can thank you for this.”

His smile grew wolfish. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night and we’ll call it even.”

I laughed, trying to think of a polite way out of it without breaking my persona as Sierra. Then he kissed my hand again, and refusal became the last thought on my mind. “Of course. That’s a small price to pay for the gift you’ve given me. And my friend.”

He dropped my hand and gave my lips a quick brush with his own. “And now,
querida
, I really should let you get to your appointment. I’ve risked your professional reputation one time too many today.”

“Again, thank you so much for these names, Victor.”

“Until next we meet, then, sweet Sierra, allow this to serve as a token of my affections.” He reached into his ever-present “man bag” and withdrew a single long-stemmed, bloodred rose, pressing it into my hands with an intense smile.

Okay, despite the fact that roses usually made my allergies go haywire, I couldn’t help the electric pulse of pleasure his simple (if not particularly original) little gift inspired. As I smelled the rose, I felt clearer all of a sudden. Stronger. Refreshed. He watched while I walked off in a daze, feet barely touching the ground and a goofy smile on my face. The farther away I got from him, though, the more I found myself regretting accepting his invitation for dinner. Sure, I’d been playing the role of Sierra—who had no reason
not
to accept his advances—but for a few moments I’d been enjoying the idea as much as the real Sierra would have. If, you know, she existed. Now, separated by physical as well as temporal space, the thought of dining with the too-slick-for-words Cat didn’t seem nearly so attractive. I mean, he couldn’t compare with Scott in a
million
years.

I decided to find a way to break the “date” later, headed toward the subway turnstile, and ducked down the hallway to the exit where Cass was supposed to meet me. That reminded me I’d never turned the wireless back on, so I reached up to do just that. The sound of footsteps scraping along the concrete in my wake made me postpone my shift back into partial Fury form. No rush anyway. I could just as easily switch inside the van. Unease pricked my skin when I heard a door slam shut somewhere ahead. Odd. This narrow hallway led straight to a one-way exit onto the street, and nobody had passed in front of me.

The unmistakable stench of sulfur teased my nostrils, and I froze. Harpy. At least one in front of me, if not another behind. I couldn’t be sure since the odor came from only one direction. Victor’s rose fell from my hand as I thought,
What the hell? Why would Harpies be following
Sierra
?

The logical answer was they wouldn’t. Not unless my cover had somehow been compromised. In which case, worrying about blowing it by shifting was an entirely moot point.

Instinct had saved me more than once, and right now it screamed at me to shift; so I did. Fury magic washed away Sierra’s form in an instant. Shimmering charcoal hair whipped around my head in the slight magical breeze shifting always summoned. Nemesis and Nike slithered their way along my skin, changing from ink-drawn tattoos into living, breathing reptiles. They sent questioning thoughts my way at being summoned in a dimly lit hallway that stank of Harpy, and I flashed back images of a potential ambush. And proving themselves to be the perfect familiars for me, that possibility excited rather than worried them. Their eagerness transferred to me, and I started moving forward again.

I neared the steep flight of stairs leading to the exit below and paused, trying to determine whether the footsteps behind me belonged to a Harpy like the ones coming up the steps did. Still impossible to tell. I would prefer the odds stacked against me to the alternative—having an innocent mortal stumble across a Harpy and Fury catfight.

Though, really, if a Harpy had accepted another contract against my life when their new queen, Serise, had sworn lifelong friendship with me (though not the Sisterhood as a whole), she and I were most definitely going to have words.

Inspiration struck, and I shifted to full Fury form—adding the ridiculously large wings to the shimmering hair, glowing green eyes, and Amphisbaena. Magic stirred at my command, forming a sudden draft of air that helped me launch straight up. I twisted my body to look behind to find out whether I was being trailed by friend or foe—only to find out the cavalry had arrived before I’d even known I needed it.

Relieved, I floated back to the ground a dozen feet away from the woman striding along the corridor. Matching charcoal hair, red leather uniform, and Amphisbaena tattoos worked into her skin marked her as another Fury, although her tattoos were emerald-hued where mine were crimson. She stepped a few paces closer, and I saw her clearly enough to recognize her as someone I actually knew. An Africanborn Megaera who had trained closely with Vanessa. A heartbeat later I placed her name.

“Gods, Durra, am I glad to see you.” I angled my body so my back faced my sister rather than the Harpy now running full-tilt up the staircase. The yellow-eyed, white-haired skeletal woman burst over the top of the stairs and scurried our way. I shifted slightly to the left and gave a warning. “We have compan—”

Agony exploded in my back, and I staggered forward, eyes widening in shock as spell-worked silver exploded through my shoulder. Pain and confusion increased, and I tried to figure out how the Harpy had gotten behind me fast enough to stab me in the back without my sister stopping her. And that’s when unpleasant reality intruded. The Harpy hadn’t tried to kill me—my sister Fury had.

DAMNED GOOD THING I’D MOVED INCHES TO the left just before she struck, or her immortal-killing blade would have sliced through my heart and done just that. Killed me.

Nemesis and Nike put two and two together a heartbeat before I did and launched themselves in the air toward Durra. Her own Amphisbaena remained in tattoo form, probably because they would have flipped out when their scummy Fury tried to murder a sister. Just thinking that thought had Rage kicking into overdrive, separating me from the worst of the pain so I could contemplate a little payback. I turned my back to the subway wall and kept an eye on my girls as they advanced on a now-retreating Durra. Once satisfied they could hold her off for the moment, I assumed a fighting stance while the Harpy jogged the last few feet separating us. She passed beneath a yellowish light fixture, and I got a good look at her face only to recognize the single living Harpy I trusted—their new Queen.

“Brace yourself, Fury,” Serise spat out, yellow-green eyes glowing with a Harpy’s uncontrollable Rage. In Serise’s case, that was only half true. What separated Queen from subjects was her ability to tap into the combined magic of all Harpies to control her emotions when needed. That and access a whole hell of a lot more strength than any Fury could ever hope to.

I didn’t have the slightest clue what Serise was talking about, but that didn’t stop me from obeying. She slammed me back against the wall. I couldn’t help it this time. Pain burned along my body when my open wound hit rough concrete, and I screamed. The echo of my shriek had just faded when an explosion boomed from the bottom of the stairwell where Serise had just been. Where I
would
have been if I hadn’t paused at the top of the steps. Where Durra would have no doubt shoved me had I not flown
toward
her rather than away.

Which meant that more than one Fury was involved in this little plot.

Magic concussed the air, shooting straight up from the explosion on the lower level and knocking all three of us off our feet. Serise landed between Durra and me. Both women shook their heads to clear them and spat at each other like cats. I knew that, for whatever reason, Serise was there to protect me from my sister Fury. Injured as I was, there would be no shame in sitting back and letting her fight this battle for me.

But that was
so
not my style.

Nemesis and Nike took advantage of my lying dazed on the floor and returned to their normal perches on my arms. I channeled magic through the serpents, funneling energy to my body’s charged-up healing abilities rather than cutting myself off from the pain in order to fight. Stubborn I might be, but I tried not to be stupid, and I’d learned my lesson all too well with my knee injury—which meant pulling up my big-girl pants and fighting through the pain. Rage made it just bearable enough to leap to my feet, hop over Serise before she could get up, and land a flying kick to the half-standing Durra’s chest. Her eyes widened comically, and she toppled over like a domino, head cracking against the concrete with a most satisfying
thunk
.

My girls hissed encouragement as I planted a foot on each side of Durra’s exposed neck and squeezed. Her fingers scrabbled against my booted ankles, trying to find purchase but sliding across the slick leather in vain. I felt the vibrations from her own boots kicking the concrete as she struggled to get enough leverage to break my hold. Too bad for her that she didn’t have the twin impetuses of pain and Rage feeding her as voraciously as I did.

She must have realized the futility of her position, because she stopped struggling, met my pissed-off gaze, and managed to choke out, “P-please.”

I bared my teeth. “You
dare
raise silver against a sister and expect mercy?”

“F-following orders.”

Serise stirred behind us, but she didn’t intervene. Just waited.

“Whose orders?”

Durra struggled to respond, but the bluish tinge taking over her lips meant low oxygen supply was making that kind of hard. I relented ever so slightly, easing up on my orthopedic chokehold so she could speak more clearly.

“Elder.”

Oh, like
that
was specific. “
Which
Elder and why?”

Her teeth chattered, and she clenched them, obviously reluctant to speak out against whoever sent her. Maybe even magically compelled not to. I tightened my hold, and suddenly she became more willing to fight that reluctance.

“The Megaera.”

I relaxed my hold on her out of sheer dumbfounded shock. While the Sisterhood as a whole was democratically governed by the Conclave of Elders, each class of Furies had one Prime sister who ruled over the class with pretty much ironclad authority. Rather than being democratically selected, that sister inherited her station when the previous Prime died. She gained her predecessor’s knowledge, memories, and special magical ability unique to that class of Furies. And while each Prime was, technically, an Elder, they owed their allegiance first and foremost to their class rather than the Conclave. Kind of like the mortal state versus federal government system.