Cursed to Death Read online

  “Nah,” Fisher said with a wave of his hand, flipping channels on the remote. “You know those two—they probably got into some philosophical debate after she calmed down and they’re up there talking.”

  “More to the point, what happened to the brewskis and burgers?” Woods stood and paced, staring out the window at the moon. “I’m hungry as hell and going stir-crazy.”

  “Mighta been a lot of orders in across the street,” Winters said with a shrug, tossing Woods what was left of the chips. “We can always call in more deliveries—whatcha want? They’ll be back soon.”

  “From the look that was on Bear Shadow’s face, those guys ain’t coming back,” Woods said, catching the chips and shoving several into his mouth.

  Fisher smiled and pounded Winters’s fist, wiggling his eyebrows at Woods. “Shit, dude, from the look on your face, you’re about ready to go AWOL, too.”

  Woods closed his eyes for a moment, his voice becoming completely sober. “You guys have no idea.”

  Winters and Fisher gave each other wide grins.

  “I’ve gotta get out of here, seriously.” Woods flung the chips onto the table and began to pace.

  “Okay, okay, man, before you do anything stupid, let’s get ’Rissa to call Sasha . . . Maybe she can talk her into—”

  “ ’Rissa is getting laid! What about this don’t you all get—are you deaf?” Woods wiped the sudden perspiration from his brow. “You can’t ask her jack shit right now!”

  “Are you serious, dude?” Fisher was on his feet, leaving Winters on the sofa, gaping. He tilted his head like a hunting dog and then opened his mouth. “I’ll . . . just . . . be . . . damned.”

  “I have got to get out of here,” Woods said, walking back and forth between the lobby door and the sofa. “I just need a burger, a cold one and—”

  “Some options,” Fisher said, slapping him five on the next pass.

  “Okay, it doesn’t take an hour and a half to get from Ethan’s bar to here—more like fifteen minutes, tops,” Winters said. “Dudes, we are seriously slipping. Where’s the ambulance, anybody hearing me?”

  “So do we leave or stay—go do recon in the streets or maintain base, like Captain said?” Fisher raked his hair and turned around in a circle. “This is so fucked up.”

  “I need to eat; I need to get out of this lobby before I lose my mind,” Woods said, holding his head with both hands.

  Footfalls made all three men look up. Sasha came through the door first, followed by Doc in hot pursuit.

  “I don’t want to talk about it—not now and not in front of my men. We’ve been debating it for the last half hour and I really can’t go through this anymore.” Sasha spun on Doc when he drew a breath to speak. “Not in front of my men. This is between me and you.”

  Doc nodded and then dropped his shotgun on the coffee table.

  “Uh, guys, where’s the patient?” Winters asked nervously.

  “In the bar across the street with his lieutenants, most likely!” Sasha shouted.

  “Or in the closest Louisiana Werewolf titty bar he could find!” Doc shouted back.

  “You know the address—is it close by?” Fisher asked, smiling but completely serious.

  “Cap, we’ve gotta get out of here,” Woods said. “Like, now . . . We’ve gotta eat . . . just need a few hours.”

  Sasha spun on him, but the plaintive tone of his voice held so much longing and his eyes seemed to be filled with so much pain that, for a moment, she couldn’t respond.

  “Cap,” Winters said. “These guys are seriously bouncing off the walls. I’m good with takeout—which we went through a half hour ago and polished off a six-pack—but they are really hurtin’ pups. But back to the bigger question, did the patient go AWOL all patched up and normal again—or is he off the hook?”

  “He’s fine,” Sasha said, placing both hands on her hips.

  “Shogun is not fine,” Doc shouted. “Neither are you, Captain. He’s in—he’s not the issue right now!” Doc wiped his palms down his face and looked from Sasha to Winters. “Sasha, I want a meeting with you, McGill, Bradley, and you, Winters, stat. This thing is getting way out of control and we need a containment strategy right away. If there’s some bad juju, as you claim, causing everybody to go insane, then let’s get to the bottom of it pronto, before anything else happens. What happened in the back of that ambulance was a near miss and can never happen again.”

  “All right, fine, you’re right—how many times do I have to agree with you? But let Woods and Fisher go eat. Why should they suffer, just because I have to?” She turned around and saluted them. “Your chain has been officially popped till oh-eight-hundred. Just be careful and come back alive.”

  Woods didn’t say a word, just saluted her with tears in his eyes and bolted for the door. Fisher almost fell over the table getting out of the front door.

  “Umm, sir,” Winters said carefully, standing slowly. “Uh, about that meeting. See . . . McGill and Bradley are, uh, doing some research and aren’t available right now. But if you want me to go into the databases and look stuff up for you, I’ll be glad to, but—”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Doc said, closing his eyes and tilting his head. “I’m going to have some dinner and to get my mind right, after . . .” He shook his head and let out a hard breath. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Hopefully they’ll be finished researching by then. I’m leaving.”

  Sasha and Winters watched Doc huff out the door, allowing the screen to slam with a bang. Sasha tilted her head and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Good for them,” she said quietly. “ ’Bout time.”

  He sat with Silver Hawk in front of the fire in the shadow lands as the elderly shaman added more water to the hot rocks. Hissing steam filled the small sweat lodge, blanketing their nude bodies with thick, humid vapors that leached moisture from their pores. He watched Silver Hawk’s ancient eyes through the opaque haze, waiting for the moment that the flames would tell him when to become Silver Shadow, when it would be time to chase the spirits beneath the blue-white moon.

  His grandfather drew a labored breath and began a low, murmuring chant in their native tongue to call the ancestors. The heat and the sound slowly began to fuse into a low buzzing resonance inside his head. Almost as though his vision was doubling, he saw Sasha lying on the cavern floor, and then an opaque version of her stood—leaving her body on the ground—to walk off into the mist. Then one by one he saw them all . . . his spirit stood and then walked away from his body . . . Bear’s, Crow’s, Doc’s, Ethan’s—Silver Hawk opened his eyes when Shogun’s father’s wolf came.

  Silver Hawk nodded. “Yes, even you, son.”

  “Grandfather, help me understand,” Hunter said in a quiet rush.

  His grandfather closed his eyes and put a finger to his lips. “Ssssh . . . Let them show me more.” With his eyes still closed, Silver Hawk used his index finger to scratch out strange symbols in the dirt beside him. “Learn these and take them to her. This is part of the sorcery that calls spirits to make doubles and walk in the darkness. We must claim them back once they’ve been cleaned.”

  Silver Hawk opened his eyes with a start and sucked in a deep breath. “We must go back and warn the others. Tonight is just the beginning.”

  He couldn’t stay in the back of the ambulance for a second longer. When Sasha had stopped to get out of the cab and bring him the cell phone so that he could talk to his men, he had needed to get away from her, lest he be tempted to bodily carry her with him. whatever shred of rational thought was left made him bolt. The only reason he took the call was to avert a war. If Seung Kwon thought there was foul play, her team would have been slaughtered in retribution, and he couldn’t have that on his head—not loving her the way he did.

  On foot, he was free; he could feel the air caress his face, imagining it was still her. He could run hard and fast, even if in human form, to exercise his body, feel his limbs come back to life again. The exertion
was necessary. Being pulled away from her body . . . her willing, supple body . . . was no less than a silver bullet in his skull. His men, no doubt, saw the insanity in his eyes as he entered Finnegan’s Wake. He let them see that he was all right, and they followed him where he swore he’d never go . . . to his enemy’s house—the New Orleans’s Werewolves’ Bayou House. It was still owned by the Buchanan Broussard family, the very clan that had tried to assassinate his brother and trick him into marrying their twisted alpha daughter. Rest both their sick souls in peace.

  But there was nowhere else to go; supernaturals were in hiding, except the ones that had Vampire protection down here.

  He hated himself as he entered the pulsing red lights that sent music through his veins, his men flanking him. It was a weakness to be this out of control, but if he took on a human female in this condition, under a nearly full moon, he’d possibly kill her from internal injuries. Accident or not, a human fatality would be on his head.

  Smug smiles of recognition greeted him and his men—they wouldn’t be attacked; they were clients tonight. Ones that would have their pockets turned out and be laughed at the next day for having to patronize this establishment after all. They would know that meant he’d lost his battle for Sasha. Everything about this carved at his pride.

  Music strummed through his body, the wolf in him noting every male’s position, size, and threat level. None visible could best him and his men. The stage commanded his focus as agile females made the poles slick with their sweat. Music throbbed in his groin, reminding him of Sasha. Just end the torture.

  Yet, it was the principle of the thing; to pay for companionship at the house of one’s enemy was the height of humiliation. Right now, after Sasha, he had no pride left.

  “I didn’t think we’d see you in these parts again, sugah,” a tall, thick-thighed brown beauty said, caressing his back suggestively.

  He stared at her full mouth, remembering Sasha. She flashed him a little canine to let him know he could play as rough as he wanted to, as rough as he obviously needed it right now. He slid his hand up her throat and she smiled. She bent her knee and pressed her calf to his ass, balancing on a four-inch black stiletto.

  “Neither did I. How much for the entire party, to cover me and my men?”

  “A thousand dollars a throw . . . since you boys have a reputation as not being overly friendly with our family. We’re still feeling some losses—Dana was my friend, and her daddy was good people.” She moved her plump mound against his groin in a slow, sultry grind, holding on to his shoulders. “But when it comes to business, we don’t hold a grudge here at Bayou House.”

  Shogun stared at the woman who’d dropped her voice to a sensual murmur. Pro or not, she was exquisite. The black velvet bustier was killer, holding up double-Ds and leaving little to the imagination. “I’ve never had to pay four thousand dollars for entertainment in my life.” He looked up from her over-exposed cleavage and smiled at her, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a knot. “But, under the circumstances, you drive a hard bargain.”

  “See, now, that’s why there’s that saying: Never say never, sugah.”

  Shogun released a sad chuckle as he watched his men summarily get picked up and led away. She folded his bills into her cleavage and ran her hand across his crotch.

  “Darlin’, I might have to give you a discount . . . because I can truly tell you I’ve never felt anything like this.”

  “They’re human, Bear,” Crow said, looking over the rim of his beer. “I don’t care what Woods and Fisher can get away with—they’re way more human than we are and can’t even shift. I don’t think it’s a good idea, man.”

  “Why . . .”

  Crow Shadow took a huge gulp of his beer. “Because what if you lose your mind and shift on them mid—”

  “That won’t happen,” Bear said in a low rumble, studying the two women that had been flirting with them all night. “You’ve never been with a human female before, have you?”

  “Yeah, of course,” Crow Shadow said, hailing the bartender.

  “You can’t allow your canines to crest and their skin can’t handle a rake; you’ll seriously injure them,” Bear said with a smile.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, man.”

  “Cannot hard roll a human female onto the floor from the height of a bed. You could break a bone, or snap her back . . . Gotta take your time, understand.” Bear Shadow looked at Crow Shadow hard. “Dab the corners of your mouth. You’re starting to slobber on yourself.”

  “Stop fucking with me, man,” Crow Shadow said, frowning when Bear Shadow smiled. “I don’t see why we can’t just go find a wolf strip club, man—or find out where the real ladies are tonight?” Crow Shadow looked around the bar wistfully.

  “Because,” Bear Shadow said, his eyes on his target, “Buchanan’s operation is a sure place to get jumped without backup . . . All the non-working ladies of interest are in hiding until the party. Now, I don’t know about you, but three moons is a long time, brother.”

  “You ain’t never lied,” Crow Shadow said, pounding Bear’s fist. “Which one you want, man . . . the blond or the brunette?”

  “Flip a coin, heads it’s the blond, and tails . . . ummph, ummph, ummph, it’s the brunette.”

  “Don’t howl up in here, Bear, man . . . Human females don’t understand it.”

  “Says who?” Bear Shadow looked completely undone. “You obviously haven’t been with one—you just told on yourself, because if you had you’d know that after you’ve gone downtown, or knocked the backboard out, I guarantee you she’ll appreciate the sentiment. Some things cross all cultures.”

  “Just let ’er rip, a full-moon howl, just like that—and she won’t call the police?”

  Bear laughed. “Not if you’ve earned the right to release the call of the wild. That, I can’t coach you on or help you with—you’re on your own.” Bear Shadow tossed back his Jack Daniels and set the glass down with a wince. “They’re hot; sex scent is at 100 percent panty saturation point. I’m going in. Cover me.”

  “Man . . . how do you do that shit?” Crow Shadow murmured in awe, looking at the women who gave him and Bear Shadow a little wave.

  “The blond is sure,” Bear said, standing, his gaze straight ahead. “Her girlfriend is a little skittish, but they both want to run with the big dogs tonight.” Bear shook his head and rubbed the nape of his neck. “So, I’m sending them another round of drinks, we’re going to get these beautiful, delicate creatures whatever they want to eat, and then see if they might be willing to let a couple of big bad wolves huff and puff and blow down their houses.”

  “What a fabulous turn of events.” Baron Montague strode through the crowd at Finnegan’s Wake, careful to stay far away from the Shadow Wolves and Sasha’s familiars. He subtly disappeared behind a server and took on his vapor form with several females in his misty retinue. “It seems every male that would have fought beside her is otherwise indisposed; even the Werewolves have lost their focus and have sought the pleasures of the flesh . . . And the boy, if he leaves the house, he’s mine.”

  “They still have that barrier to us at Dugan’s Bed & Breakfast?” a willowy, pale platinum blond murmured through her fangs. “Drat! Geoff, let’s play with them tonight. There are two humans upstairs copulating, and the boy is on the sofa, bored, watching television. We could easily run all three of them out into the night. Sasha would come home to ashes. We could just burn it down.”

  “Yes, yes, can we, and then we could feed on Sasha’s humans?” her flame-haired companion begged. “That would twist that bitch’s gizzards with guilt when she came back to find her three cherished, defenseless humans sucked bone dry.”

  “The old man is also by himself—her father,” another said pulling on Geoff’s arm. She flung her silky black hair over her shoulders, giggling as they passed unsuspecting patrons that only noticed them as a chill. “He may have that dreaded, tainted Shadow Wolf blood in him, but we could snap his neck and le
ave him for dead . . . Maybe just savage him so it looks like a wolf did it.”

  “But all of those delicious options would involve us directly, mes cheries.”

  “Oh, poo,” the blond said, nipping his neck. “You’re no fun.”

  “That’s not what you said a little while ago.” He whacked her on her backside as they giggled and left by way of the open windows. “Patience is a virtue, and when you live forever, you can afford to exploit as much of that natural resource as required. Besides, Dugan’s B&B is valuable real estate, love. Firebombing is so pedestrian, so yesterday.”

  Sasha’s hair was still wet from the shower when she got behind the wheel. Sir Rodney’s top advisor had called and asked her to go look again at where the bodies had been. She couldn’t blame them for not wanting to be outside of the Sidhe at night, especially with their magick waning. And even though she wasn’t sure what they were after, she’d gladly gone along with their request—she had needed space and had needed to get Shogun’s scent off her, drop her clothes in the laundry, and get the hell out of there. Listening to Clarissa hit high notes and Bradley bottom out in bass notes was not how she was going to spend her night. There was an investigation to conclude, even if she was laboring under the influence of a jacked-up spell.

  Doc might have been irrational, giving in to some Father Knows Best rerun playing in his head due to the dark magick, but he did have a point—they had to find out more information and get ahead of the spell reactions before anything else crazy happened. That would have led her back to the last place she probably should have been, even if Garth hadn’t called: Ethan’s Fair Lady.

  Police crime-scene tape barred the entrance as she drove by. Okay, made sense; somebody heard the shotgun blast, no doubt, called in the authorities; they saw the hole in the ceiling, maybe even Fae arrows and scorched walls from Dragon blasts, and now the authorities couldn’t find the owners on what should have been a bustling business night. Not good.