“If I keep you from doing this, you will leave me,” he said.
“I didn’t say that.” Giving an ultimatum to Curran was like waving a red cloak in front of a mad bull.
“You will. Maybe not right this second. But eventually you’ll walk away.” Curran took a long deep breath. “I sit in on every meeting.”
I had won.
“As long as you’re honest with me about your chances, I’ll support you. Kate, if you lie, it’s over.”
I crossed my arms. “You expect me to lie.”
“I don’t. I’m just getting it out there so there are no surprises.”
We stared at each other.
“Are we cool?” he asked.
“I don’t know, you tell . . .”
He pulled me over to him and kissed me. It was a hell of a kiss.
We broke apart.
“You talk too much,” he said.
“Whatever, Your Fluffiness.” I slid close to him, so his arm was around my shoulder. I felt better. He did, too—his posture lost some of the tension.
We walked to the car and kept walking. “Where are we going?”
“To the Temple,” Curran said. “I owe you another cookbook.”
IN THE THREE HOURS WE’D BEEN GONE, THE STEAK house had been transformed into the Pack’s field headquarters. Groups of shapeshifters patrolled the road and guarded the building. Knowing Jim, sentries lay in wait, hidden and watching for an enemy’s approach. People were crawling on the roof, installing a ballista and machine guns.
The parking lot lay empty, but the field behind the building was filled with cars spaced about ten feet apart. If the Keepers launched a rocket into our parking lot, not every vehicle would go up in flames. I hoped they tried something. My hands itched for my sword.
Curran parked in the front. Jackson, one of the guards, ran out and Curran tossed him the keys.
Jim met us at the door. Behind him Derek emerged. He looked like death: pale, his eyes bleak.
Shit.
I stopped. Curran’s hand brushed mine, and then he went off with Jim.
Derek came to a stop in front of me.
“Is she dead?” I asked.
“No. She’s sleeping.”
I exhaled. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“If I hadn’t—”
“Please, don’t flatter yourself. We both know the kid needed about five years of hard training before he could’ve taken her on. Your little beating made absolutely no difference.”
“She’s . . . there is no change.”
“That’s good news,” I told him. “Any change now will be for the worse. I need to have her stable, until I can get my ducks in a row.”
He glanced at me. “Kate, you can’t help her.”
“I can try. Are you going to help me or will you just stand there and mope?”
His head snapped up. Much better.
“Are the witches here?”
“Yes. The Russians are here too, and they’re pissed.”
Oh good. “Where are they?”
“In the back of the main room.”
“Find Barabas, tell him I need him to attend. And when Curran is done with Jim, tell him that I’m holding the meeting until he can join us.” I wouldn’t want His Arrogance to miss anything. “And fetch the staff, please.”
Derek took off. I strode inside the steak house.
GRIGORII WAS TALL AND THIN. HIS PLAIN BLACK robe hung on his shoulders like wet laundry on a coat hanger. Chernobog’s volhv’s long black hair, shot through with gray, framed a severe face with hazel eyes under thick eyebrows and a hooked nose that made him look like a bird of prey. You half expected him to clench his talons, let out an eagle shriek, and tear you to pieces. A black raven perched on Grigorii’s shoulder. Behind Grigorii’s chair, Roman waited, looking about as happy as the groom at a shotgun wedding.
The man in the chair next to Grigorii was even older. He wore a plain white robe that came to his knees. Pale blue embroidery, faded to almost gray, ran in a three-inch strip straight down the front of the robe. Belobog’s volhv. Had to be. Belobog was Chernobog’s brother; they were diametrically opposed, benevolent god to malevolent one.
A furry creature lay at the white volhv’s feet. It looked like a medium-sized dog with gray fur. A pair of large feathery wings lay folded along its back, stretching on the floor behind it. A celestial wolf. Holy crap.
Across the table Evdokia smiled serenely, knitting something blue. Her duck-bunny-kitten rolled around on the floor, playing with the yarn. The celestial wolf watched it with a slightly hungry look on its face.
Behind Evdokia two witches waited, both young, pretty, and looking like they wouldn’t back down from a fight. Same dark hair, same small neat mouths, same large eyes. Probably sisters. The witch on the left wore a long hooded robe of gray fabric. Her friend chose jeans and a sweater instead. She’d pulled her sweater sleeves up to the elbow, exposing bright turquoise tattoos of mystic symbols sheathing her arms.
I came to the table, pulled up a chair, and sat. “Everyone brought a pet. I feel left out.”
An enthusiastic howl broke the silence, and Grendel bounded through the doorway. He galloped through the steak house, skidded on the floor, smashed into my chair, and dropped a dead rat on my lap.
Awesome.
The volhvs stared.
“Thank you.” I put the rat on the floor and petted Grendel’s throat. “We will begin shortly.”
“What is that?” Grigorii stared at the dog.
“A shaved poodle.” Technically he was now a closely cropped poodle, but who cared about semantics.
“This is ridiculous.” Grigorii leaned back. His voice was clipped and had no accent.
“Have you looked through the window?” I asked him.
The steak house was set on the apex of a low hill. Beyond it Palmetto lay, flooded with cops and people in paramedic scrubs. They methodically bagged the corpses and loaded them into trucks, one atop the other, like cords of wood.
“That is a horrible thing,” Belobog’s volhv said.
“I do not like this waiting,” Grigorii said. “What are we waiting for?”
“For me,” Curran said.
The volhvs startled. Curran pulled up the chair and sat next to me. Barabas materialized behind him. “Grigorii Semionovich, Vasiliy Evgenievich, Evdokia Ivanovna, welcome. May I get you anything? Coffee, tea?”
“Hot tea with lemon,” Evdokia said.
Barabas waved. Jezebel brought a platter with a teapot and several cups on it, set it on the table, and took up position at the nearby booth.
Jim pulled up a chair and sat on Curran’s right. Andrea sat on my left. Barabas and Derek remained standing behind our chairs.
“This thing is none of our concern,” Grigorii said. “You do not rule us.”
“We will leave when we decide,” Vasiliy said.
“Did you bring Kamen?” Curran asked.
Grigorii leaned back and crossed his arms. “And if we did, then what?”
Curran leaned forward. “You are sheltering a man whose machine caused hundreds of deaths. Because of this device, my ward, a fourteen-year-old girl, is dying. One of my people is dead; two are critically injured. Your volhv attacked my mate. Before we go any further, we require a show of good faith. You will give us access to Kamen now.”
