Authors: Bianca D'Arc
The big
-cat Clans had been organized into their current political structure during the Renaissance in Europe. The
Venifucus
went back even further than that. They had once been led by a fey mage named Elspeth, who had come to be known as the Destroyer of Worlds. She and her followers had almost won the last war, but the forces of Light had defeated them and sent Elspeth into the farthest realms, never to return.
Or so everyone hoped. Recently though, the
Venifucus
—thought gone for centuries—had been making a comeback. The few agents who had been caught all professed one alarming goal. They wanted to rescue Elspeth from the farthest realms and bring her back to the mortal world to wage her evil war once more.
The fact that the
Venifucus
had someone in its ranks that could see the future was very, very disturbing. The fact that they’d felt so sure of the foreseer’s information as to send someone after Mitch on the theory that he might be important later, was even more alarming. They were acting on the foreseer’s visions. Who knew how many innocents who might’ve done good things were now dead or derailed because of that evilly placed gift of foresight.
The werewolf growled and leapt onto the table in a single bound, baring his fangs and brandish
ing his claws at Mitch. Everyone reacted in a split second, even as Mitch sprang over Gunnar’s head to meet Victor on the surface of the heavy table. Mitch’s hands were partially shifted, just like the werewolf’s.
The werewolf tried, but he was no match for Mitch without what he now realized had been the magical support of the mage. A group had ambushed
Mitch that night when the dojo had burned. He’d only seen the one he’d fought up close and personal—this werewolf—but he’d known there had been at least one or two more behind him. One of them had wielded the needle filled with poison that had almost killed him.
Mitch needed to know more. He leapt at the werewolf, grabbing him around the throat as he slammed the bastard clear off the table against the heavy glass of the large windows. The werewolf whimpered as his head connected hard with the thick glass. Mitch squeezed his airway and though he tried to fight free, he was immobilized. The moment Victor understood that little fact, he stopped fighting.
That was the moment Mitch had been waiting for.
He took a quick glance around. The mage was still
immobilized, but Horace had risen and tried to head toward the door. He’d been intercepted and Gunnar and Paul had one arm each. Horace wouldn’t be able to get away from both of them.
“So is this the evil triumvirate?” Mitch asked in a disgusted tone. “
The three that jumped me near the dojo. If you knew who I was, why didn’t you skip town the moment I took over as Tig’Ra? You’ve known for a week that I was in charge.”
“We thought you were dead,” Horace spat from across the room. “We killed Mitch Thorburn. We didn’t know Mitchell Gustavson was the same guy. We figured he was just some lucky Icelandic bastard who had managed to kill Gisli.”
“You should’ve taken my calls.” Mitch smiled, knowing their own hubris had been their downfall. They’d thought they were too good to talk with the new Tig’Ra. They’d been too sure of themselves and their superiority. How the mighty had fallen.
“Yeah.
I see that now.” Horace grimaced as Gunnar tightened his grip on the panther’s arm.
Victor passed out due to lack of air and Mitch threw him aside. Guards moved quickly to tie him up so he couldn’t attack anybody when he woke.
Mitch checked the mage, noting the glyphs on his face. Mitch had never had any real magic before, but and suddenly he could see the magical tattoos that were only visible to those with a specific kind of magical sight. He’d read reports about such things, which is why it had finally registered what he was seeing, but only after the mage had already attacked. These three were going to be prisoners and they were going to be questioned very carefully before being sentenced and punished for their crimes against the Clan.
Finally, Mitch turned to Horace. He’d known of the man from his days with the Nyx, and everything he knew about him told him the panther wasn’t trustworthy. He’d been a con man and had swindled members of the
pantera noir
to support his lavish lifestyle. His actions had gotten him thrown out of his Clan, which was one of the worst punishments imaginable to shifters.
“Are you working for the
Venifucus
too? I don’t see any glyphs on you. Or are they hidden?” Mitch asked Horace point blank.
The panther shook his head. “I’m in this for the money. Vic and Norbert pay me for services rendered—including the intel on where you would be the night of the
dojo fire.”
“So you’re the inside man that’s been leak
ing the Nyx’s itinerary. I bet she’ll be happy to find that out so she can finally stop running. Horace, you’ve made that girl’s life a living hell.”
“She’s the almighty panther queen. She should be able to deal with it,” Horace countered with a sneer. It was clear he had no respect for the Goddess-granted authority given to the monarchs.
“What you fail to realize here is that I
like
Ria. It was my honor and duty to protect her for a lot of years. I didn’t like seeing her hurt each time she had to run and someone else tasked with helping or protecting her got hurt because of the leaks in her security. Because of
you
, Horace.”
Finally, Horace backed off, paling under Mitch’s scrutiny.
“I’m not disposed to cut you any deals, but if you tell me everything you know, things will go easier for you.”
Yeah, good ol
d Horace was thinking about it, weighing his options—which weren’t very many at the moment. Unlike the two fanatics with the
Venifucus
tattoos, Horace was motivated by greed and his desire for personal comfort. That was something Mitch could work with.
“I’ll cooperate,” he said finally. “As long as you protect me from those two. They’ll kill me without hesitation.”
“Done,” Mitch agreed.
Mitch arranged for discrete transport of the three out of the country on a private jet. The tiger stronghold was the safest place for them. He could imprison them there indefinitely while they were questioned and the intense power of the volcano would nullify anything the mage tried to throw out.
Mitch and Gina stayed in the city
a little longer so they could get in touch with their friends Cade and Ellie. Mitch was shocked, but Gina was not surprised to find out the two had mated. Most of Mitch’s surprise was regarding the fact that Cade had taken a human, but Gina set him straight, championing her friend. Mitch conceded after a while that such a paragon of human stubbornness as Gina described was the perfect mate for his best friend, Cade.
Ellie had also informed Gina that her apartment was no more. There had been a fire in the building while Ellie and Cade had been dealing with the threat to the Nyx. The bad guys had targeted Ellie’s apartment and Gina’s had been directly above. There was essentially nothing left worth salvaging. It was tough to hear, but Gina could deal. Most of her truly cherished possessions had been left at her parents’ house anyway. She’d lost all her furniture and clothing though.
Cade and Ellie were on the road, but they promised to stay in touch by phone and they all exchanged numbers and their new contact information. They were also invited to the mating ceremony in Iceland and promised to be there with bells on to party with their friends. Mitch couldn’t wait to meet the human who had managed to ensnare his best friend.
He also had to thank her for helping him that night after the attack on the
dojo. Ellie had taken Cade and an unconscious Mitch back to her place and the rest, as they say, was history. Without Ellie’s kindness to a stranger, Mitch would have never met Gina and would most likely be dead. He owed a lot to the human woman.
Mitch spent most of the next week working at Phelix Corporation’s headquarters, weeding out the bad apples and replacing them with new people. Gina had been of incalculable help, overseeing the scientific and medical aspects of the various divisions. She and her team of Old Guard sons and daughters who had all gone to medical school together—not to mention some of Gina’s human medical colleagues that she called to consult—had go
ne through the majority of the ongoing experiments.
One sinister find had been the very poison Mitch had been given. There was a lab dedicated to certain black projects that all seemed aimed at killing shifters. The two scientists who had run the lab with rather telling autonomy had mysteriously disappeared almost immediately after Mitch had stormed the conference room that first day.
And worst of all, vials of the nectar had been found among the materials in that lab. It was as Gina had feared—they’d been trying to counteract the very substance that could have saved so many lives. The nectar wasn’t finished yet. They hadn’t been able to synthesize much of it and it hadn’t been tested fully, but it had been a promising experiment. She wanted it to continue. If the component in her blood that healed could be made available to all—even in a diluted state—it would mean a great deal to shifters and humans alike. She hated that they’d taken what had been a good project and actively worked against it.
Mitch seethed to think that a corporation mostly owned by the Clan had secretly funded research into ways to kill shifters. He’d bet anything that the two scientists were dyed-in-the-wool
Venifucus
foot soldiers.
Another thing he’d discovered was that Phelix had once been wholly owned by the Clan. Gisli had sold off shares to raise money over the years. Mitch vowed he would repurchase those shares and return the company to the Clan in time. He was already laying the groundwork for the plan and would—if all went well—be able to start on it in the next fiscal year. Sooner, if Ria was willing to help. He thought
she would, but he wanted to see her face-to-face to put forward his plan.
Ria might be young, but she’d been Nyx for a while.
She was a smart young woman with a head for business. In fact, her Clan of panthers had thrived financially under her leadership these past years. He’d been so proud of her for making the tough decisions that had ultimately turned out so well for her people. He’d even given her advice now and again when she’d asked his opinion on business matters. He liked to think that she’d help him now, when his people needed a little boost.
He wouldn’t mind the other investors in the company being fellow big
-cat shifters. He’d even reach out to the
were
Tribes of North America if he had to, but one way or another, he was going to take back the company for shifters alone. It was a goal that might take a few years—maybe decades—but he’d do it.
On the personal front, Mitch was able to get his things out of storage.
He spent an hour or two sorting through his stuff and selecting the items he wanted sent to the stronghold. He sent the rest to the highly defensible apartment he’d rented through the corporation. It would do for a U.S. base of operations.
The apartment was in a more expensive part of town than Gina’s old place and it boasted its own swimming pool. It was the penthouse in a relatively shorter building near the river. Nothing in the area overlooked their top-floor space and it wasn’t so high up in the air that the escape routes were limited. It was a nice compromise between safety and privacy.
Mitch carried Gina over the threshold on the first night they spent there together. She’d helped him pick it out and had already bought some new furniture. Mitch had his complete wardrobe—with items suitable for everything from state dinners to working out—and a few keepsakes he’d picked up over the years. Gina had gone shopping, picking up enough clothes and shoes to keep her presentable.
“You have more clothes than I do,” Gina complained when he showed her the dual walk-in closets. His was already full. Hers was woefully empty. “That’s not right. Women are supposed to have more clothes than men.”
He kissed her cheek. “We’ll fix it at the earliest opportunity, my love. But in my defense, I had to be prepared for anything Ria threw at us. As her Royal Guard, I had to be neat and inconspicuous at every kind of event she might be invited to attend. You were a doctor. I think you pretty much lived in scrubs, right?”
She sighed heavily, clearly not placated but willing to admit defeat. “I’m not a clotheshorse. It’s going to be hard to find the right stuff I’ll need to be queen. Maybe Ellie can help. Or my mom.”
She seemed so depressed about the idea of clothes shopping that Mitch had to laugh. He scooped her up in his arms and left the closet behind, heading for the bedroom.
A night of thorough loving had her back in a good mood come morning. Mitch had a way of doing that to her.
It seemed anything could be solved by spending a few hours alone together, preferably in each other’s arms.
They headed back to Iceland, having accomplished a great deal in a short amount of time. Mitch had uncovered even more treachery by going over the account books held in the States than he had by looking at the duplicate—but altered—set kept in the tiger stronghold. He knew where the rats were now and it was about time to spring his traps.
One rat in particular was going to be caught before the day was through. It seemed Walter Sorenson, the ex-CEO of Phelix Corporation
, had family back in Iceland. Gisli’s handpicked stooge was only a puppet. The real puppet master was his older brother, Sven, who did the accounting for the Clan.
Sven had been oh
so helpful when Mitch had taken over after the challenge. He’d been almost eager to show Mitch the doctored books. But now that Mitch had seen the other side of the coin back in the States, he knew without a doubt that Sven was in this up to his eyeballs.
Mitch wasted little time confronting the accountant the moment he reached the stronghold. He gave Sven credit for still being there. He
had probably thought nobody would understand what they were looking at in the cleverly doctored books, but Mitch had seen the numbers for what they were. A great big fat pack of lies. Smoke and mirrors. Deception.
One thing was certain. Sven had been systematically working against the interests of the Clan for years. He’d secreted vast sums of money in Swiss bank accounts. Mitch needed that money, which rightfully belonged to the Clan. He needed it to retake control of the Clan’s business interests. He needed it to rebuild the framework in which his people might thrive.
Mitch caught up with Sven in his office, just inside the business area of the stronghold. It was another chamber of chrome and glass, hung with expensive medieval tapestries that had set the Clan back a bundle. Waste. That was Sven’s specialty. Decadent waste on personal fripperies.
Mitch had already seized the homes and condominiums bought in Sven’s name all over the world. His agents were moving on them even as Mitch moved on the small man behind the overlarge desk.
“Sire, you’re back.” Sven seemed to smile as he rose, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Yes
, I am, and you’re under arrest.” Mitch nodded to the Guards who flanked him and they moved forward.
“What
is this?” Sven shouted, evading the Guards as best he could. He fumbled for something in his desk drawer and a split second later, a dart whizzed past Mitch’s ear to embed itself in the wall. A sickly green fluid came out of the tip.
One of the Guards—Helga—smashed her hand down on top of Sven’s wrist, making him let go of the pistol. Mitch heard the distinct sound of bones crushing as the accountant cried out, but it seemed he wasn’t done. He crouched as if to spring, but Mitch held out one hand, stopping him with the magic that was his to command.
He was strong now wherever he was, but never more so than when he was near the mountain that lent him its power. Mitch held the man in place without even touching him. A quick glance told the Guards to let go and stand by.
“You can’t do this!” Sven
shouted in a squeaky, annoying voice.
“By the Goddess, I certainly can,” Mitch begged to differ.
“You…you’re just an upstart. A flash in the pan. You won’t last a week before they kill you, and I’ll still be here long after you’re gone.” The man was raving now and it wasn’t pretty.
Mitch lost his temper.
“By the grace of the Goddess I serve, the power of the Grim runs through me. If you want to feel my displeasure, keep pushing. If you want to know my mood, monitor the volcano,” Mitch warned, fed up with the man’s posturing. He was going down. One way or another.
No longer would incompetence be tolerated or rewarded.
“That’s not p-p-possible,” the man stuttered.
“Look into my eyes and tell me what you see.” Mitch allowed the heat of the mountain’s fiery depths to show in his eyes for a moment.
“Lava,” he whispered. “It burns!”
He got a little hysterical after that, falling back to land hard on the edge of the desk, his hands covering his eyes.
“Now you know the truth of it.” Mitch pulled back his power and adopted a bored stance. “You’re going to stand trial for crimes against the Clan.”
Mitch nodded to the Guards once more and watched with satisfaction as Sven was taken into custody. The ice palace had plenty of hidden, secure chambers where prisoners could be kept for years. Already, Mitch was adding to the number of prisoners kept there.
He’d freed anyone wrongfully imprisoned by Gisli and given them whatever assistance they needed to recuperate and rejoin their families if possible. Now he was filling the place with legitimate wrongdoers who would face judgment fair and square. As soon as the true extent of their crimes had been established and they had been questioned to Mitch’s satisfaction, the work of justice would proceed. Once he had all the information he could get out of them, he’d figure out what to do with them next.
Some would face the volcano’s wrath. Anyone who had sold his soul to the
Venifucus
would have to be cleansed in the Lady’s Light. What better way than to use the fire of Mother Earth ever-present in the Grim. There was a reason, after all, that the tigers of old had chosen this place to build their stronghold.
The rest of the villains would have to be dealt with according to the severity of their crimes. Already, Mitch was thinking of ways some of the lesser offenders could make it up to the Clan. Walter Sorenson, for one, could be useful—if he had truly repented.
Everything was coming together, and little by little, Mitch and Gina were weeding out the evil in their midst. It would take more time, but eventually they’d be free to get to the real work of rebuilding the Clan. They had plans to put in motion, including planning the mating ceremony and reception.
Gunnar had been helpful in clearing out the rooms used by Gisli’s pet mage. He could sense magic, but it took Mitch to go in and disarm the traps the mage had left behind. With the power of the mountain behind him, nothing the now-dead mage had set up could withstand his presence. Mitch didn’t fully understand magic, but at times like this, he gave himself up to the Goddess and let Her work through him.
In a locked box in a hidden compartment of the wardrobe, Mitch discovered something that made his stomach turn. He immediately sent for Gina and her parents, knowing that no matter how much this hurt, they needed to see it. They needed closure.