"What did I just miss? What's happened?"
Bruce turned his head from where he was watching out the window and wiped away a small spot of red at the corner of his mouth that looked suspiciously like blood. "I just killed an assassin outside your cabin who tried to attack Charles. It was a snake, and not one of the friendly ones."
A
snake assassin?
Good God, what were they asking him to get involved with?
"Is there any chance you were followed, Lucas?" Amber's voice was calm, cold, but her own anger blew through the room like an arctic wind as she touched Charles's shoulder. She stood unmoving, but the fiery bobcat was no less terrifying for all that. She reminded Rick so very much of
Josette
that it made him smile for just a second before he put the tray on the coffee table. But the next words out of her mouth wiped away the smile and raised his brows. "There's nothing funny about this, Richard Cooper. We've been losing agents left and right. People are dying, and I'm not going to have my husband be the next one!"
Ah. So that's why they're here. The agency is starting to reactivate retired agents.
He was going to be asked to walk into a pitched battle, rather than avert one. She didn't seem surprised at his presence, but then she'd been married to the Chief Justice for a
very long time. There were probably secrets she would take to her grave.
Lucas turned glowing blue eyes to the pretty, petite blonde. "I'm not that incompetent, Amber."
Rick's mind dropped into agent mode before he even realized that there was a switch to be thrown. "Maybe he didn't have to be incompetent."
Lucas gave a low, menacing growl that raised all the hairs on his body at the implication. The heat from his magic rose until Rick raised a hurried hand to forestall an actual attack. "I don't mean that you were involved in any sort of plan against the Chief Justice, Lucas." He waved his hand around to the assembled group. "Haven't any you ever seen the movie
Enemy of the State?
Am I the only person with a DVD player? I do keep up out here, you know. And I remember Jack and Fiona being fascinated with all the latest technology, even when the latest and greatest was the
telegraph.
I bet every single agent is issued a top-of-the-line cell phone and laptop. And I'll also bet that Fiona has them all supplied by the same company. Hell, I've no doubt every one of
you
carries one she ordered." He pointed to Lucas. "You arrived at the top of the mountain in wolf form, but do you have any sort of technology in your
vehicle?
Could someone be using your own technology to track you?"
Lucas stopped mid-stride. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. His hazel eyes darkened as his expression grew more calculating.
"You mean we might be bugged? The whole
agency?"
He paused, obviously appalled at the thought, and not the least dismissive of the idea. "I've been using the same supplies and suppliers that Fiona used without bothering to check on them." He turned to Charles. "I don't personally know if they're secure or not."
Rick continued. "I don't know who you use as your supplier, and I don't care. But if I were you, I'd strip each one of us down to the skin and use a detector to go through everything. If I found
anything
hinky, I'd crash the system at headquarters."
Lucas stared at him, long and hard. "Do you realize the chaos a complete system crash would cause?
Everything
is routed through the computers."
Rick met his gaze calmly and shrugged. "I'll bet you still have the paper backups on every file. Weren't you the one who used to tell me that you'd never give up paper because people can't stuff a whole file folder down their shorts? Better to crash and start over than be compromised and let our enemies pick our people off at their convenience."
Lucas thought about it in silence for a long moment. The tension in the room mounted with each passing second. "Fine." he growled and then pointed at him. "We'll start with
you.
Strip."
They checked everything and everyone in the room. Rick was clean, as he knew he would be. But when Bruce found that all of the other cell phones had been tampered with, he started in on the luggage they had
in the car. The laptops were likewise compromised, as well as several of Charles's suits, Bruce's favorite pair of shoes, and even Amber's stethoscope.
With every bug they found both Lucas's and Amber's rage grew until the heat from their combined power began to scorch the woolen rag by the fireplace. Amber went with Lucas to stand outside until they both cooled down while Bruce went scouting in the predawn chill for more
visitors.
Charles sat naked on the couch. When he spoke, his voice was calm, belying the fury Rick knew he was feeling. His visage seemed to have aged decades in the few minutes it had taken them to perform their search. He gestured at the discarded pile of clothing and equipment in the middle of the floor.
"Rick, would you be so kind as to throw all that in the fireplace? I feel a bit chilly."
He would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. A polar bear shifter
…
feeling a
chill.
Instead, Rick quietly and methodically began crushing the electronic devices they'd gathered, pressing them under the heel of his boot before throwing them into the embers. The cotton suits soon started to smolder and after adding some logs and applying a few puffs of air from the bellows, the cell phones and laptop cases started to melt.
He'd just tossed in the pair of shoes, when Charles spoke. "You know most of the Monier family, don't you?" The voice was deceptively casual. It made the
small hairs on the back of Rick's neck stand on end in warning. Still, when he answered, his own voice was easily as casual. Even scent wouldn't give them away to each other. The faint tang of curiosity hung in the air, but that could mean anything, or nothing.
"Who doesn't?" Rick answered as he passed a cup of black coffee across the table. He flicked his eyes toward the door and winked.
Finally, a smile, even though it was weary. "True. They're not exactly unobtrusive."
Rick gave a snort of amusement as he sat once again in his rocker. That was one hell of an understatement: Amber was the quietest of the Monier siblings, but she was well known to anyone who'd ever worked in Wolven. She'd served as the staff physician there since she'd been barely more than a kitten;
Antoine
was a world-renowned entertainer, as well as the Council Representative for the cats; Fiona had moved through the ranks at Wolven with unheard-of speed, through a combination of raw talent and utter ruthlessness. And then, of course, there was
Josette.
Her name might be Aspen now to the shifter world, but to him, now and always she would be
Josette. Rick
didn't want to think too much about her. It always made him wonder what might have been, if he hadn't been too young and too stupid to realize just how special she was.
"You were married to Aspen at one time."
It wasn't a question, so Rick didn't bother to answer. His years with
Josette
had been the happiest of
his life. He'd been a fool, an idiot, and he'd lost her. It was not the kind of thing he wanted to discuss. Emotions clawed at his insides
—one of the dangers of being an empath. Not only could he sense feelings in others, but his own supply was overdeveloped to the extreme.
But even over his own feelings of self-loathing, longing, and need came Charles's desperate worry and fear. He raised his eyes to meet those of his old friend and understood with startling clarity that something was truly
wrong.
"I need your help Rick. I wouldn't have come here if the situation wasn't desperate."
"Not only no,
but
hell
no!"
Tasha let out a deep sigh and then took a slow drink of pungent red wine.
Josette
didn't entertain much
—hadn't actually had a person visit in
years,
but she kept a few bottles of good French wine, bottled near where she grew up, in the cellar for special occasions. She was starting to realize she shouldn't have wasted a bottle on
this.
While she appreciated the help with the snakes and cleaning up the house, the Wolven agent was just asking too much.
"I understand how you feel, but
—"
Josette
snorted and put her glass down on the cracked table hard enough that the remaining red fluid slid up the side and out onto her hand.
"Do you? Do you
really?
You've never been a seer. You
can't
know how I feel. I know you've visited my sister when Charles has had visions, but he has
control
of his foresight. I don't. I see the past, the future, the present
…
all at once, or slathered over the top of one another like some sort of demented Edvard Munch painting. People believe I'm
insane,
Tasha
— think I was the
model
for
The Scream.
But I'm not and don't ever plan to be. I'm very careful not to put
myself in situations where things could go wrong. No. I won't go to Minnesota and risk losing my sanity. Plus, has it ever occurred to you that what is happening
must
happen? I'm getting so tired of people trying to change the things that have to be and screwing up the future in the process."
The look on the other woman's face was both sad and angry, matching the scent of wet, burned coffee that filled the small room. "Little girls suffered and
died,
Aspen. All because of the leader Josef Isaacson's desperate need for money and complete lack of humanity. They were raped and then turned Sazi against their will. You can't tell me that their pain and their deaths
had to be.
Yes, thankfully, the pack leader in Texas, with the help of the second of Minnesota stopped the trafficking for now. But it was only temporary. We never found out who was running the show. We
have
to make sure it doesn't happen again. You have hindsight
—you can see which members of the Minnesota pack were involved in the child slavery ring. Maybe you can see who the contact down south was. It's the only way we can find out who was capturing the girls both here in the States and in South America."
That perked up Josette's ears to the point she could almost feel fur tickle her skin.
South America?
Could what happened tonight be part of something larger, something having to do with both her visions and Minnesota? But she hadn't seen any children that
were attack victims in her visions, hadn't seen the deep pine woods of the lake lands. Surely she would have, wouldn't she?
After a few moments of silence, while the tall redhead tapped the side of her wine glass,
Josette
shook her head. "I'm sorry. You'll have to tell Charles and the council that I won't do it. Not now. It's not only a risk to me, but a real risk to the people in Minnesota. It'll endanger your investigation even worse if whoever is trying to kill
me follows
me there."
Tasha nodded her head and stood up. Her scent told
Josette
that she had realized arguing was futile, but she was just short of violent. Her words were staccato knives, intended to cut. "Fine. But I hope you can sleep at night if a child
you
know gets captured by these maniacs when you could have stopped them."
The tiger started to step forward aggressively when
Josette
raised her palm. She might have expended a great deal of magic fighting the snakes, but there was still enough in reserve to handle an angry tiger. The flow of magic extended outward from her hand like a rock wall intended to prevent the other woman from getting closer. "Be very careful, Agent. I'm being careful tonight because you're my sister's dearest friend and you believe what you're doing is right. But there's a
reason
why the council is content to leave me alone out here. Don't make me show you my temper. Please, you have my answer. Now leave my home."
Tasha's eyes narrowed. "Fine. And unlike
you,
I'll remain a professional, I'll bury the snakes on my way back. I wouldn't want you to be
burdened,
after all."
Then, with a snarl that revealed more fear than anger, she stormed out the front door, leaving the loaned clothing in her wake.
Josette
sighed. She hated having to say no, but there was nothing to be done about it. She'd made her decision, knowing that Charles and, in turn, her sister, would be furious. Some things have to be, and that tiny part inside of her that felt time in all its forms, told her she'd made the right decision. After taking the glasses to the kitchen and putting them in the sink, she picked up the bag of ruined clothing and broken dishes and stepped out the back door.
It took a second for the smell to hit her, another few seconds for the scent to register.
Dynamite
—and the ozone electricity that could only be a detonator igniting. She tried to turn, to run with supernatural speed to get away from the house, but her momentum made her lose her footing, and she skidded dangerously forward. There was a sound like a gunshot, and the blinding heat and flash of an explosion. Then, enveloping darkness.
Eventually she began
to be vaguely aware of her body, pinned and injured under layers of rubble. She was healing as only a Sazi could, and the pain
was distant and doll. She tasted stone dust and stale blood on her tongue. Her eyes, when she opened them, viewed the utter devastation of what had once been her home. Until her mind forced her to see other things entirely.
In a vision so intense she could
smell
things, she saw Rick
—
her
Rick, sunning himself on a rock in cat form as a huge white wolf picked his way delicately up to meet him. Josette's heart caught in her chest. No. The vision had to be of the past. Rick was dead. But, oh God how good it felt to see him again! She could even smell wood smoke clinging to his fur and just a hint of the cinnamon toothpaste he used to love.
The image shifted and she saw him riding a motorcycle, the wind blowing back his shirt, baring a muscular chest marred only by old, pale scars where claws had tried to dig his heart from his chest. His face was just the same: square-jawed, with jutting cheekbones that were only accented by a perfectly trimmed VanDyke beard. His blond hair had highlights from time spent outdoors, so that it gleamed with every possible shade from near white to a dark honey gold that matched the color of his eyes. His eyes were honey and amber with flecks of what looked like metallic gold. They were nearly the same in both his human and animal form. Now, however, they were hidden behind sunglasses that reflected the bright afternoon sun.
She'd loved him once, and he her. But it hadn't worked. Try as she might, she had never really gotten over the hurt of his leaving. When she'd learned of his death it had broken something deep inside her.
But he
wasn't
dead. This was real enough to taste. It was a vision of the present, or the very near future. He was riding what appeared to be a classic Indian, but
Josette
could see the cars as he zoomed past. They were current makes and models, and the license plates had current dates on them.
He's alive!
She felt a fierce surge of joy that forced her to wake fully. It was followed instantly by a wave of anger.
Damn that son of a bitch! I grieved for him!
While she understood the need for older Sazi to "kill" an old identity and start a new life, you let people know. You're supposed to say good-bye. You don't just
…
vanish
from the people who will miss you.