In the Werewolf's Den (30 page)

Carl had incapacitated the other warder and circled around looking for an opening, but Joe backed into a corner and continued to squeeze out Danielle's life.

"If you let her go now, I'll let you walk out of here,” Carl promised. “If you hurt her, you're a dead man."

Joe just laughed.

Oxygen debt sent a wave of dizziness through Danielle and she shifted from blur mode to let herself survive a little longer.

She gave up striking at Joe's armored body, quickly saw that he had protected his face and eyes, and went to work on a finger.

Joe's gloved hands resisted her grasp. Only the smallest metallic click let her believe that she was having any effect at all. Either he was impossibly strong or—

"You think I'd come here without the best equipment?” Joe bragged. “You're finished, Danielle."

She sagged against him, letting him carry all of her weight, then kicked off against the wall.

Joe stumbled and loosened his grasp, although only for a fraction of a moment.

That moment was enough, though. She grabbed a breath and twisted, not trying to escape, but telling herself to be like water, letting Joe flow over her without getting a grasp, sweeping his feet from under him.

Joe couldn't completely counter her move, but she didn't catch him by surprise either. When he fell, he twisted so that his heavy armored body fell on her.

She felt her ribs giving way and then Joe's hands were back on her neck squeezing hard. The dull thud-thud-thud of her heart in her ears sounded like chopper blades.

She had almost lost consciousness when she felt the wolf's body slam into Joe knocking him away from her.

Her technique, stupid if she'd been alone, had given Carl the opportunity to get into the fight.

Joe rolled away, took one look at the enraged wolf, and blurred for the window.

Danielle rolled to her feet and followed, but too slowly. Before she could reach him, Joe broke through the window. Perfectly timed, a nylon ladder dropped from a chopper—it hadn't been Danielle's heart after all. Joe grasped the ladder

She watched as the helicopter zoomed away.

Carl, in human form again, joined her at the window.

"I have a feeling he'll be back."

She couldn't disagree. Watching Joe climb that weblike ladder reminded her of a spider.

The helicopter spun back around and raked the hotel with machine gun fire.

"Get down,” Carl commanded.

She started to obey, then stopped. Something was off.

Joe was shouting commands to the helicopter, ordering it back into the attack.

The black gunship ponderously turned, it's cannons pointing straight toward the window where Danielle stood waiting.

"Get down.” Carl was screaming but Danielle couldn't move. Not that it made any difference.

The chopper's turn seemed slow, but Joe was hanging at the end of a long rope. The leverage turned a gentle movement into the crack of a whip.

Joe used the mechanical strength of his gloves to hold on. But, as he reached for a new handhold, his grip slipped.

For the first time since she'd known him, Danielle saw panic flit across Joe's face. He grasped for the line with his free hand—too late.

The helicopter pilot picked that minute to adjust its sights. It was only a slight jerk, but it was too much for Joe.

He seemed to fall in slow motion, his eyes filled with an insane gleam. Then he accelerated and smashed into the ground a hundred feet below the gunship.

"Goodbye, Joe,” Danielle murmured.

"What happened?"

"When we were grappling, I felt something snap in his glove. I must have frozen one of the reinforced joints. When he relied on it, it wasn't there."

"You're quite a fighter,” Carl said.

Those weren't the most romantic words in the world, but Danielle felt lucky to be alive. “What happened to the other warders?"

"They ran into Mike and Snori. We'll let them go in the morning. With the message that another attempt like this is going to cause the second magical plague."

"In that case, maybe we should get back to bed."

Carl gestured at the bullet-infested remains of what had once been their love nest. “Here?"

"How about the floor. Except I get to be on top."

For most of the zone, Joe Smealy's death was a cause for celebration. Danielle couldn't quite bring herself to join. He had been a liar, but she still believed he'd been doing what he thought was right.

"Gus and the guys are one thing, but we can't let just anybody in,” Carl explained, his voice almost artificially patient. “For one thing, they'd smuggle more warders in to sabotage us. And for another, we don't want to live with them any more than they want to live with us."

She and Carl faced off in the middle of Carl's compound, now converted into a makeshift headquarters. A sort of combination government office and military command center. Around them, Mike the Vampire, Snori, the dwarfs, and a cluster of elves tried to be inconspicuous.

Danielle didn't bother trying to sound patient. She knew she was right and wasn't going to back down. “You're thinking exactly the same way that the warders think. Letting fear control your actions."

"Fancy talk,” he growled. He stepped into her personal space trying to intimidate her with his size and maybe the sexual magnetism that had worked so well. But sex was sex and life was life. Carl was wrong and Danielle didn't plan on backing down no matter what he might say.

"Of all people, you should be able to understand this,” she said. “You were a normal until a few months ago. You've lived both worlds. You can see how the two need each other if we're going to break out of this downward spiral."

"We've been treated like dirt for years. We need time to create our own civilization. If the normals overrun us now, we'll just be forced into a new zone.” His hands twitched at his side as if he wanted to attack—or maybe to caress her. Danielle couldn't tell.

"Look at me,” he continued. “They had me convinced that the answer was a cure to the magic. To force the magical to give up their talents. I had to get away from them to see that magical talents are a gift, not a curse."

"You don't get it, do you? I thought you would be the first to want to open the door to the future rather than keep looking backward.” She spun on her heels and started away from him.

"Come on, Danielle,” he urged. “Let me show you what we're building here. Maybe once you have a chance to really feel the promise, you'll see that it's a magical thing. The normals wouldn't understand."

She spun around. “I am a normal, remember."

"You're not normal,” he told her. “You're as magical as any of us. Where else do you think your blur comes from? You're as much a victim of their lies as any of us. Because you are one of us, Danielle. Not one of them."

Danielle froze.

She'd wondered how Carl could reconcile his newfound magical chauvinism with the apparent feelings that they shared. She'd imagined, hoped, that this showed that Carl was more open and perceptive than he appeared.

Those hopes burned into ashes. Carl hadn't accepted her for who she was, he'd projected what he wanted into her. He'd decided that she was a magical because he needed her to be one.

Unfortunately for Carl, his theory was dead wrong. She wasn't magical. The blur wasn't a magical talent. It was the result of years of hard work with biofeedback and countless hours of training.

Unfortunately for Danielle, Carl's reaction meant that her hopes, her plans, and her dreams were impossible. She couldn't live her life with Carl, and she couldn't persuade anyone to create the powerful hybrid of magical and non-magical that every instinct told her was humanity's only way to move forward.

Carl watched Danielle walk away, her hands clenched in fists that he knew could break concrete—could break his heart.

He wanted to call her back, to run after her, to do anything but let her leave. But what could he add to what he'd already told her?

"You blew that one, boss,” Mike the Vampire told him.

"Yeah?” Carl turned on his friend and jammed his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't do anything rash. “So what was I supposed to do? Sell out the entire zone just so I could get a little nookie?"

"Is that what Danielle is to you, boss? Nookie?"

Carl yanked his hands back out of his pocket and slammed a fist into the apartment's brick wall. Two bricks crumbled with a crunch that would have been satisfying if he hadn't felt something shatter in his hand as well.

"Damn it, Mike.” He manipulated his hand, trying to see if he could still make his fingers move. He could, but barely. “It doesn't matter what she means to me,” he continued. “I'm working for all of us."

Mike didn't look particularly grateful. “Like I said before, you blew it. The worst thing is, you're too stubborn to do anything about it."

The vampire didn't look as angry as Danielle had when she'd walked away, but he walked away too. Leaving Carl standing alone, his fist throbbing and the rest of him feeling like he'd been sucker-punched.

He considered smacking the wall again, but managed to restrain himself. He could work around one broken hand. Two would get in the way.

Fred and Simon had holed up in one of the many abandoned buildings close to the zone border. Fred's restaurant had only been opened for a couple of days, but it was packed when Danielle arrived.

"You look like hell,” Simon told her. He was working as maitre-d, dressed in a tux, but greeted her with a hug and smile that took a bit of the sting out of his words.

"It's good to see you too."

"We owe you and Carl a lot,” Simon said. “He lent us the money to set this place up and sent a bunch of his friends and workers to eat here."

"Yeah. He's a goddamn saint,” she said. Still, she was surprised to learn what Carl had done. How could he be so reasonable about some things and irrational about others?

"Uh-oh. Love problems?” Simon asked.

Danielle resisted the urge to strangle the man. This had nothing to do with love. It had everything to do with Carl's stubborn refusal to accept that the future could be better.

"Can a person get anything to eat around here?” she demanded.

Simon led her back to a table near the kitchen where Fred quickly joined her.

She knew she was right and Carl wrong and seeing Simon and Fred becoming successful proved it. But the empty feeling inside of her said that being right didn't matter. At her emotional core, she didn't want to be right—she wanted to be right with Carl, and for Carl to want to build a new world with her

After dinner, she went into the kitchen and helped with the dishes.

The blur, she learned, didn't really help with the washing. Unfortunately, learning that cost Fred and Simon half a dozen plates.

Fred finally took the drying rag from her hands and set her down in the corner. “We can't afford your help, honey. So why don't you let us help you?"

She couldn't help bristling. “I don't need any help."

"We all need help,” Simon said. He had wrapped an apron over his tux and was sweeping up the shattered remains of the last plate she'd destroyed.

Simon pretended to be talking to Fred. “Boy, that Carl sure looked worried when we came in without Danielle, didn't he?"

"Almost like a man in love,” Fred answered.

"So what?” It took an effort not to shout, but Danielle managed. Barely. That ‘L’ word got to her in a way she would have thought was impossible.

The next morning Fred fed Danielle a stack of pancakes liberally smeared with butter and whipped cream, together with coffee so thick she was surprised that her spoon didn't stand up in it.

Simon sat down next to her and aimed a fork at her plate.

"Hey.” She blurred and pushed it away. “Get your own pancakes."

"You think Fred would feed me like this?"

"If you asked him nicely."

"I'd rather mooch off of you. You sure you want to eat all of those?"

She looked down at the heaping plate of pancakes and then at Simon's hungry eyes.

"I'm real sure."

He sighed. “It was worth a try, anyway. And speaking of trying, have you thought any more about what we talked about last night?"

Danielle nodded. “I've thought about it, but I don't see it doing any good."

"Don't give up on him, Danielle. Carl's a good man, and he loves you."

He might love
a
Danielle, she realized. Unfortunately, his was a magical Danielle who existed only in his mind.

"It isn't about that,” she explained. “Carl's caught up in old pain—pain that I spent my life battling and only now am starting to get away from. Do you think I can afford to go back to that, Simon?"

Simon considered, then shrugged. “I'm on your side, Danny. But I hope you'll give him a chance."

She reached over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I'm glad I didn't kill you that first day, Simon."

He grinned. “Me too."

Danielle had to blow her nose and dry her eyes when she left Fred's restaurant, but she sucked it up and went looking for Carl. This wasn't about them, it was about making the zone right and she couldn't run from that fight.

Chapter 17

Danielle returned to her combination house and dojo and threw her few things into a workout bag. When she met with him again, she wanted to be on her own, independent.

Everything she owned filled half of a small workout bag. Once she dumped her warder uniforms, she'd be down to the dress she'd bought for her first date with Carl, some underwear, and a spare karate gi. She needed to get out more often.

"Going somewhere?” The deep male voice, indisputably Carl, caught her completely by surprise.

"Hi, Carl. Yeah, I figured I'd move out. It isn't like you need a herder any more."

She tried not to look at him, but failed miserably. He looked younger than he had when she had first met him, more fit and darkened by the sun. But his commanding presence was as strong as ever. One of his hands was wrapped in a bandage and she started to reach out to caress his wound, then snatched back her hand before she touched him. She should know better than to play with fire.