[Southern Arcana 3.0] Deadlock (8 page)

Jackson landed two good punches on the other, then shoved him at Alec. “Don’t dawdle,” he called back as he ran through the open doorway and down the long hallway.

A hard slug across the jaw dropped the second man, but by the time he hit the floor the first was back, pissier than before. Alec dispatched him in the same manner, wincing slightly when his knuckles split against a jawbone harder than a slab of marble.

Crashing sounds from deeper within the house led him to a narrow hallway where Jackson was bent over a man on the floor, punching him between terse words. “Don’t—get—back—up.”

The man had been guarding a door, so Alec kicked it in. The shattered wood rebounded against the unfinished wall and smashed into his shoulder as he shoved into the room.

He caught a glimpse of a startled woman with gray hair woven into beaded braids, and then she literally vanished in a pulse of magic that shook the room.

Someone whimpered, and he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

Carmen. She was huddled in on herself, shaking with terror…and something else. Power.

To his heightened senses, Carmen felt like a wolf. Weak, traumatized, but a shapeshifter, not a human.

She sensed him or smelled him or
something
. Her body went stiff for a moment, and she scrambled to hide behind a freestanding shelving unit loaded with paint cans.

Jackson stomped in. “The magic’s dissipated, but there’s a hell of an echo in—” He stopped and stared at Carmen’s balled-up form. “Shit, is that her?”

“Yes.” Her fear scraped Alec’s nerves as he concentrated on pushing out a wave of comforting energy. “What the fuck was going on here, Holt?”

“I don’t know. Until a minute ago, this room was shielded more than the whole rest of the house.”

She still hadn’t moved. Alec waved Jackson back and sank into a crouch. “Carmen, sweetheart. You’re all right.”

She looked at him and away, a quick glance with no eye contact, making sure he kept his distance. The only visible effect his words had was a slight crinkling between her eyebrows, as if she was trying to discern his meaning.

Jackson leaned down slowly, just enough to speak low words to Alec. “Unless you want to have to kill those guys out there, we’ve got to book. Grab her and let’s go.”

If he did, she was likely to fight him the whole way and hurt herself. “Can you put her to sleep? Like you did for Mac when her instincts went crazy?”

Jackson looked like he was fighting a battle within himself. “I don’t know what they did to her. More magic could hurt, and bad.”

“Fuck.” With no other choice, Alec rose and closed the distance between them, concentrating on maintaining that steady, soothing aura of shapeshifter power. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to take you out of here.”

She shifted her weight suddenly and fell over backwards, landing hard on the floor. She still didn’t speak, but she made a terrified noise and swung when he reached for her.

Alec had seen newly changed wolves react the same way. Steeling his heart, he knocked her flailing limbs aside and curled his hand around the back of her neck with just enough pressure to be a warning. “Stop.”

She struck him on the shoulder and shoved at his chest. When he didn’t yield, she wound her hands in his shirt and met his eyes. After a few hitching breaths that finally caught on a sob, she whispered, “Please. Help me.”

Terror could break her mind. It happened in more infected wolves than not, driving them so mad they had to be put down. His instincts rebelled, and he’d swung Carmen up into his arms before he realized it, cradling her feverish body against his chest. “Now, Jackson, or there won’t be enough of her left to save.”

Judging from the hard set of the man’s jaw, Jackson recognized the truth of his words. But when he reached for Carmen, she snapped at him, her teeth closing viciously only inches from his fingers. “Jesus Christ.” He tried again, and this time he managed to press his hand to her cheek.

One low word, and she sagged in Alec’s arms, still whimpering and fitful. “The rest can’t be helped,” Jackson said. “We need time to figure out what happened.”

Alec could only hope it was time she had.

Chapter Five

They were talking about her. Arguing, judging by their harsh tones, even if they fought to keep their voices lowered.

She curled tighter on the narrow backseat and pressed her hands over her ears. Everything was loud, too loud, and she couldn’t stand it.

Fight.
She wanted to, except that she didn’t know where the hell to start. The sandy-haired man in the front seat, the one who seethed with the same sort of magic the witch had carried inside her? She couldn’t very well battle the glare of the sun or the ear-splitting rumble of the engine.

Or the chaos inside her. Half of her wanted to fight, but the other half wanted to run, to kick through the back window if she had to.
Fight or flight.
Instinctive reactions, and they left little space for anything else. Still, some tiny part of her…

It remembered the dark, scared man behind the wheel.

He’d glowered at her before, though Carmen couldn’t quite place where it might have been. She vaguely recalled heat, as well, the sort that warmed her blood and made her shake with longing.

She could test him, stand still and see if he approached, if he liked her scent. She liked his. It clung to her clothes, her skin. Leather and sweat, strong and earthy.

Strong. She closed her eyes and reached inside for some semblance of lucidity. It made no sense that she could feel that, the magic that dwelled in him and matched her own.

“—heard rumors, but they’re just that. They’re rumors. You can’t make a wolf, not like this.”

“But she’s not human. Hell, she’s not even your usual brand of halfbreed. Remember, one of the brothers turned up shifter.”

“I don’t care if one of her brothers is a little gray man from outer space, Jacobson, you can’t do it. It’s exactly because she’s not your average human that you’d have to be insane to try.” He sounded upset, almost sick. “The usual way will turn a halfbreed plumb crazy in about two minutes. Too much
wolf
.”

Wolf.
Yes, that felt right. Carmen moved her hands, just a little, and tried to concentrate on the conversation.

“A council member would never use the regular way anyway. They can’t have dirty infected wolves in their family. Being a halfbreed may not be much, but it’s still better than that.”

“Like I said, there are rumors of old ways, but it’s beyond me. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

The witch. Carmen struggled to remember, but a terrifying blankness formed where her memories should have been.

She snarled.

Warmth surrounded her at once, a comforting pressure born of magic, almost tangible. “You’re okay, Carmen,” the darker man murmured, his voice a soft rumble. “We’re taking you somewhere safe.”

She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t okay, but all that came was a low moan. If she could order her thoughts, she could talk to them, ask what the hell was going on.

The other man cursed. “I can’t repeat the spell, Alec.”

“Doesn’t matter. When we get to my place, I’ll let her run a bit. Burn off some energy.”

“Will that work?”

“Probably won’t hurt.”

The dark man was driving, and the other turned to peer over the seat at her. He had kind blue eyes, filled with a calm, soft sympathy that scared the hell out of her. How many times had she looked at someone like that, someone with injuries or illnesses so severe they wouldn’t live to see another sunrise?

He spoke. “Hey, don’t freak out. You’re all right. You’re going to be all right.”

Carmen laughed. She couldn’t help it.

A soft curse from the front, and the engine roared under them. “Leave her be, Jackson. We don’t need her coming over the seat at you if she gets spooked.”

He sputtered something, but she didn’t listen. She clamped her hands over her ears again and rolled face down on the seat. Every instinct screamed for her to turn over, not to leave her back unprotected, but she ignored the urge. Instead, she began to meditate.

She’d never been so strong that she couldn’t control her empathy, not even from her earliest memories. Unless under duress, she had always been able to close herself off, in a box if necessary, until she was ready to come out. It was only as she grew older and began training that she learned how to do it no matter what was going on around her—or in her head.

Walls. Usually she preferred clean ones, but these she envisioned as a faded red. Plenty of buildings in the Quarter were made of rough bricks just that shade. In her mind, she traced every chalky white line of mortar, until she’d built up five walls—four all around her, and one to close the box.

Nothing penetrated, not until a warm, gentle hand dropped on her shoulder.

She stiffened, but managed not to jerk away as she sat up and looked around. The truck was parked in front of a white house with a large front porch, and a soft breeze carried the scents of grass, earth and water into the cab.

The man stepped back, leaving her a clear path to the door.

Outside, pine trees and live oaks rustled in the breeze. Suddenly, the thought of walking into another closed-off space was unthinkable. Unbearable.

Carmen shoved past him and hit the ground at a run.

It took a minute to recognize the light feeling singing through her as relief. She ran every day, but this was different. No mp3 players or cross trainers, and she didn’t run out of concern for her cardiovascular health. Running meant
freedom
.

Trees flashed by—magnolia, cypress, more oaks heavy with Spanish moss. She only stumbled to a halt when she hit the edge of a marshy pond and almost fell into the water. Her legs shook, and she clutched one hand to the painful stitch in her side.

“Better?”

He wasn’t even winded, but the observation melted into a realization that he’d followed her. Logically, she knew he’d had to; she was out of her head, high on magic and probably crazy.

Instinct told her he would have chased her anyway.

She was too exhausted to begin the complicated dance that came next, the give and take of wary attraction, so she shook herself and answered his question. “I don’t know. Nothing fits, but I’m so tired.” The thick sound of tears in her voice embarrassed her.

“I know.” His tone was quiet. Gentle. “I don’t know what happened to you, but we’re going to find out. Make it better.”

This time, the reassurance didn’t make her want to laugh. “I remember you. Kat’s boss. Franklin’s friend from the army.”

He nodded. “Alec. Or Jake, if Franklin’s been telling stories.”

“Alec Jacobson.” With the nervous magic quieted, her mind cleared a little. “Where are we?”

“My house.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Actually, my lake. A little swampy, but not so bad.”

“It’s lovely.” Carmen took a step and groaned when her legs almost gave out. She had no idea how long she’d run, but the house had to be over a mile back. “I’m an idiot.”

“Nah. Seems like you got a pretty big dose of magic.” He took a careful step forward, his gaze locked on her face. “Feeling okay?”

Pride almost made her lie. “No.”

“Tired?”

“I think I need to rest before we go back.”

Alec nodded toward a patch of grass a few yards away. “Wanna sit? Fresh air can’t hurt.”

She didn’t sit so much as crumple to the ground, and only sheer willpower stopped her from stretching out on the grass. “My father. I talked to my father, and then the van came—”

“Shh.” He sank down a few feet away. “It’ll keep. Tell me how you feel.”

“Confused. Wary.” She sighed. “Confused.”

“Wish I could say that’ll go away. Just try to remember I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I remember.” What he had to know already was that it didn’t matter if she recognized intellectually that he wasn’t a threat. What mattered were the tense, heart-stopping moments where primal instinct took over.

“Good.” He leaned forward and braced both elbows on his knees. “Don’t worry if you get angry and try to rip my head off, either. I won’t take it personal.”

“Ha. Franklin tells stories,
Jake
.” She gave up and lay back, closing her eyes against the afternoon sun. “I’d never get my hands on you.”

His low chuckle vibrated deliciously over her nerve endings, and she relaxed a bit. “I dunno, I’m slowing down a bit. A new wolf landed a few punches on me yesterday.”

“You don’t say.”

“Mmm. Then, this morning, he kicked my door in. Still working on his temper.”

Carmen considered laughing, but all she managed was a soft smile. “Lucky for you, I don’t have a temper.”

“We’ll find out. I have it on good authority I can piss off just about anyone.”

I think you probably could.
After her exertions, just lying there felt like floating, and she fell asleep.

Alec paced by the closed guest room door for the third time in under twenty minutes and wondered—also for the third time—if opening the door to check on her would make him a creep.

Only a little creepier than prowling in front of her door.
That the thought came to him in Kat’s voice had to be a sign that his mind was slipping. Or his sense of humor was returning. He could only imagine the look Kat would give him if he admitted instinct demanded he shove open the door and count every damn breath Carmen took.

Not that he couldn’t hear her from the hallway. Adrenaline had brought every sense on high alert. If he stood outside the door, he could number the beats of her heart, slow and steady in a sleep so deep it might have been unconsciousness.

She’d slept through the arrival of a Conclave team, and he’d fought himself to allow them inside at all. Only the knowledge that they were going to leave—and take Kat’s attacker with them—let him grit his teeth through the invasion. Once they were gone, he’d begun pacing.

He reached the end of the hallway and kept going this time, refusing to allow himself to make another pass by her door. Instead he moved into the kitchen to check the time.

Five minutes after the last time he’d looked.