Tiger Eye (34 page)

“Blabbermouth,” Dean said.

Blue began removing Dela’s wires. “So what? Does that
mean he’s just making guesses, or is there some
other
group out there, with people like us?”

“People someone like Wen would know?” Dela frowned. “That’s scary.”

“Enough,” said Artur. “I will inform Roland and let him conduct his own investigation. For now, we have only one concern, and that is Wen Zhang. Men like Wen are driven by profit. His subordinates will be the same—their allegiance is economic. If you disrupt the flow of cash, Wen will lose face. He will become distracted and sloppy. There may be a power struggle.”

“You can take the boy out of the mob, but you can’t take the mob out of the boy, huh?” Dean smirked.

Artur did not smile. “My former bosses had many dealings with the triads and tongs, but what Wen represents is different. His is a true enterprise, a business. In the triads and tongs, loyalty is to the organization. In the criminal enterprise, loyalty is to profit, and to the man who can make the most money for his backers. If Wen loses the money, he loses everything, and Wen and his family—as far as we know—are the only ones who want Dela dead.”

“Someone is following us,” Eddie announced. “A Jeep. The driver pulled out of his parking space the same time we left, and he’s been close ever since.”

“On it,” said Blue, crab-walking through the surveillance equipment to the back of the van. Everyone watched as he carefully peered through the tinted rear window. Moments later, they heard brakes squealing.

“Sent a surge through the battery and spark plugs,” Blue said, blowing on his fingers with a sly smile. “Over loaded the car’s computer chip, too. Couldn’t see much of the driver, though. Too much glare from the headlights.”

“Where there is one, there will be others,” Artur said calmly, with a zenlike air that made Dela roll her eyes.

“So what’s the plan? It seems like the only way to cut into
Wen’s profits is to disrupt his human money tree. The typical smuggler earns up to $30,000 a head on illegals, and that’s not including prostitution.”

“And from what I understand, there’s no shortage of takers who want to get out of China,” Dean said. “He’s got supply and demand, Artur.”

“But we can find the transport,” Artur countered. “These people are not simply
poofing
into this country. They are taking ships, or overland routes through South America and Mexico. A few carefully placed tips to the U.S. Coastguard or border patrol, and Wen’s enterprise will begin to crumble.”

“You said
‘poofing’.”
Blue grinned. “Are you finally succumbing to American slang, Artur?”

“I am succumbing to many things,” he said. “Not the least of which is your wit.”

They ate dinner when they got home. Paper plates were passed around the table, filled with sandwiches. When Artur went to find silverware, Dela told him to wait. She looked at the drawer he opened, and a moment later, a fork and knife floated into the air.

Everyone was silent for a moment. Blue reached for some chips.

“We need to have a talk about these new abilities,” he said mildly, as Artur plucked the utensils out of the air and returned to the table. “The powers we develop when we’re kids are usually the ones we’re stuck with, give or take some extra training. You seem to be doing something a little different, Dela.”

“No shit,” Dean muttered.

“I can’t explain it,” she said.

Hari examined Dela’s troubled face. “This began when you met me, did it not? I am not entirely human, and unusual forces
have
affected my life. Perhaps my appearance, or the act of opening the box, was a trigger point.”

“But what we do isn’t magic, Hari.”

“I don’t know about that, ma’am,” Eddie said, pushing around his sandwich. “I mean, we all know there’s probably some scientific explanation for what we do, but I haven’t heard it yet. We tell ourselves the mental ability to start a fire or read the history of an object conforms to some unknown scientific principle, and maybe that’s the case. But it seems pretty magical to me—and probably to anyone else who isn’t used to it like we are. I mean, look at Hari. We all say he’s magic, right? Could be science, though. We just don’t know enough to say.”

“You’ve gone and turned deep on me,” Dean said. Eddie blushed.

“Eddie is right,” Hari agreed. “The Magi himself could do many of the things you are capable of, but he was also able to tap into forces that allowed him to twist reality to suit his desires.”

Blue frowned. “His power must have had some limits, or else there would be a history—some record—of his activities. I mean, the way you tell it, this Magi would have tried conquering all of Asia and Europe, otherwise.”

Hari shook his head. “The Magi was powerful but alone. You yourselves do not demonstrate your gifts, except to others of your kind. Why? Because you are outnumbered. The Magi came to our land through the mountains, east from China, and he was followed by stories. Uprisings, revolt. We always suspected he had been driven away, though we never knew why or how. Our forests were perfect for him; very few true humans lived there, and the shape-shifters had no qualms with magic. Until he turned on us.”

“And yet …” Dela mused, tapping the tabletop with her fingernail.

“Merlin,” Blue said.

“Morgana.”

“Baba Yaga?” Artur shrugged.

The names were unfamiliar to Hari, but he sensed their significance. “Were these people like the Magi?”

“Legendary wizards, magic-makers,” Dela explained. “Fairy tales told to children. Supposedly as unreal as the Greek gods or any other myth.”

Hari smiled. “Humans were a myth once. A dream, cast to flesh, when animals of different natures wished to mate. They were compelled to find a common body, and so imagined a form that would feel all the pleasures expressed by the heart. The problem, however, was that children born of such unions were human through and through. Sometimes they could change shape, but more often they were locked, confined. Still, they were healthy and strong; they grew and multiplied, and after a time, it became forbidden for shape-shifters to love outside their kind.”

“That is a lovely story,” Dela said.

“I guess humans aren’t off limits.” Dean winked at her.

Hari laughed. “Never. The child of a shape-shifter male and human woman will always breed true to the father, while with our females, there is a half chance.”

He looked at Dela, and found her staring at her hands, her cheeks flushed bright red. Blue and Dean were trying to hide smiles, while Artur simply appeared grave. Eddie was concentrating very hard on his pizza.

“I am sorry,” he said, confused. “What did I say?”

Dean smirked. “You’re a male shape-shifter, Hari. Who would you want as the mother of your children?” Hari stared at him, and then Dela. She frowned at Dean.

Hari could not find the words; he had not thought of it when speaking, but of course Dela was the one to whom he passed his desires. Heart-warmth instantly swelled in his throat, tightening his body as he imagined his child growing inside her, a fantasy that had been strong within him for many days.

In their brief discussions of the future, the subject of children
had been touched upon, but Hari realized Dela had never stated for certain her feelings on the matter. If she did not want to have a young one with him …

His face grew hot. His stomach hurt. “I am sorry, Delilah. I did not mean to embarrass you.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were as warm as her face, dark with promise. “You didn’t embarrass me, Hari. The only shocking things at this table are Dean’s manners.”

“Ow,” Dean muttered, rubbing his chest.

That night, curled in his arms, Dela brushed her lips against Hari’s throat. “I know the topic of children has come up before tonight, but I never really thought about what they would be like. Now I understand.”

“And does it bother you?”

His concern was palpable. Dela could taste it as she kissed his mouth; slow, deep. She smiled against his lips. “No, Hari. Although we’ll have to think about moving someplace isolated if we want to raise a brood of tiger cubs.”

Hari’s eyes sparked gold, fire flickering in the shadows of her bedroom. “This has all happened so fast. How long have we known each other? A week, a little more? Even among my people, courtships last much longer. They are full of intrigue, mystery—a dance between man and woman—kept hidden from families until a decision, a moment. Consummation. The man steals his mate away to a home he has built for her, until the birth of a child, and then all families are reunited.”

“This is very different from what you’re accustomed to,” she agreed. “But then, falling in love with a man and planning out my future with him, after little more than a week, is a little off-board for me too. I don’t know how to do anything else, though. It’s frightening.”

“So we can be frightened together,” he said, pulling her even
closer. “I have told you shape-shifters mate for life, Delilah. If you ever reject me, there will be no other.”

“No other,” she promised quietly, stroking his face. “I like the sound of that.”

“You could be cruel,” he laughed, flipping Dela onto her back.

“I could bring you to your knees.”

“I think you already did that once tonight.”

They breathed in each other’s laughter, and it warmed Dela that Hari trusted her enough to smile over something so serious. She was still his summoner, his mistress, and while she would never dream of touching that power, it was there, waiting. She
could
bring him to his knees. Anyone who wielded the box after her could do that.

I can’t let that happen. I don’t know how to break the curse, but I can’t ever let Hari be abused again.

“Hari?” she asked tentatively, as he pressed his lips against her collarbone. “I want you to consider … if and when anything ever does happen to me, I need to know … oh, Hari. Do you want the box to pass to someone else, someone who can be trusted, like Artur or Blue? Or our … our children?”

Such a strange thing, to say “our children” out loud. Extraordinary and breathtaking, a miraculous secret meant for Hari’s ears only.

Hari’s eyes turned grave. He loomed over her body, his face scant inches from her own. “When you die, Delilah, so will I. I will be dead to the world, and that is the way it should be. I do not want to be summoned again. Let me fall into the earth at your side, and I will be content. An eternity, dreaming of you.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, a whisper of flesh.

“Boy,” she murmured, kissing him. “You sure can talk.”

Chapter Fifteen

She is trapped in the oubliette, embracing darkness, vomiting obsidian on the cold stone floor. Breathing
Delilah
breathing—ensnared and no one hears, no one can, and
Delilah,
she is alone, alone, alone—

“Delilah!”

Dela gasped, opening her eyes. Sunlight flooded her bedroom, sweet as nectar on her mind, chasing shadows without words. Hari leaned over her, his skin glowing with the backlit halo of white sun. He cupped her face in wordless question.

“I’m okay,” she lied, wanting to soothe away his troubled frown. How could she tell him her latest vision, a portent of things to come? Imprisonment, isolation, despair—her own, or his. It did not matter to whom. Something bad was coming.

“Delilah,” he began, but she shook her head.

“Just a dream, Hari. Nothing more.” Nothing preventable, anyway.

Whatever will be, will be. That is the way of things, and the future is not set in stone. What I saw is just a fragment, the dark piece of a puzzle that could be full of light. I can’t let myself forget that.

Just as she couldn’t forget the danger was not yet past.

Hari’s eyes were far too sharp, but he respected her word and said nothing. They got out of bed, dressed, and padded into the living room. The television was on, and all four of the house’s other occupants were crowded in front of it, rapt.

“… a body was found late last night in an alley off Monroe Street. Authorities have revealed that the man was the victim of a vicious animal attack, although sources say no one heard any sounds of struggle in what had previously been a peaceful downtown neighborhood. The victim has been identified as a Mr. Wen Zhang, a resident of New York City, and a prominent businessman. Anyone with information pertaining to the attack should contact the police or animal control.”

“Shit,” Dela said. “Oh, shit.”

“Someone had good taste,” Dean remarked.

“What the hell happened last night?” Dela stared at them, but everyone shrugged.

“He must have been killed soon after he left Le Soleil,” Eddie said.

Blue scrubbed his jaw, which looked like it was three days overdue for a shave. “Do we really think this was done by an animal?”

A furrow appeared between Dean’s eyes. “They called it an animal attack, which probably means they found some saliva in the wounds. Something not human.”

“Yeah, right.” Dela said. Wen’s murder—and Dela was sure it was murder—was so unexpected, and so … convenient … it begged immediate and paranoid suspicion. She didn’t think for one second it was an animal, or anyone trying to help. Who in their right minds, except her friends and family, would do that? And if it had been her friends or family, she would know.

“This is too much of a coincidence,” Hari said. He looked troubled. “Do you believe one of his own people killed him?”

“Unlikely.” Artur cracked his knuckles, an ominous gesture. “If this was murder, then perhaps his death was in retaliation for Dela’s murdered client. A face-saving gesture. Eye for an eye.”

“With both these leaders dead, the focus should no longer be on Delilah, correct?”

Dela groaned. “Zhang’s cronies will think
I
killed him. Me or Hari, depending on how many people knew about our meeting.”

“One thing at a time,” Dean said. “Eddie, why don’t you go downstairs and check out the security system? We may get visitors.”