Masked By Danger by Christa Wick

Chapter Nineteen

"Le sang du bébé..."

Esme's hands curled around the edge of the cushion beneath her. She swayed, her body remaining upright only because of her mate's quick response.

Folding his arms around Esme, Denver closed his eyes as he curled his wolf protectively against her.

Across from them, Iris and Cade waited for Esme to recover and explain the term.

"It's the worst kind of magic," she whispered after a few seconds. Tears flowed freely down her rounded cheeks and her hands slid across her stomach to protectively clutch at her sides. "A sacrifice of absolute purity is needed. But the magic produced is nearly unbreakable, if it can even be detected."

"So whatever Quentin was going to do to Oscar, he needed a sacrifice." Iris said, her memory straining for any other information Oscar's mind might have imparted before the revived trauma forced his first shift into his wolf. "What about the crystals?"

Esme shook her head. "Witches have been using crystals containing silver or iron for millennia. They act as magnifiers and I think my mother may have found a way to use them almost like a radio."

"You need to examine Oscar—" Iris started.

Surprisingly, Esme objected first. "He won't let me touch him since the interview."

Thick tears spilled from the witch's eyes. The strain in her relationship with the cub had been slowly building, starting with Oscar's first encounter with Iris, when he had responded to her wolf even as she denied her nature.

From that point on, he had gravitated toward the pregnant latents and she-wolves while squirming away from Esme's embrace.

"It's because of the woman on the table," Iris suggested.

"Not all of it," Esme whispered. "And I've had more than half a year to find something wrong with..."

Still mindful of her mate's fierce affection for the cub, she trailed off, her eyes darting to the side for a moment before she met Iris's gaze once more. "You'll need to examine him. If he'll let you. You have the best chance of detecting anything. You already smelled the magic on him."

Denver moved restlessly where he sat. Iris expected him to veto the idea, but he rose after a few seconds and gestured that she should follow him.

He passed through a door opposite the hall through which they had entered the living room, Iris close on his heels and Cade and Esme behind her.

Halfway down the hall, Denver stopped and stood in front of a door, but didn't move to open it.

"There are other cubs in there with him," Iris said, a wave of nausea rolling over her at the smell.

"Two others," Esme agreed. "I was watching them before I sensed you waking up."

Denver stepped out of the way, flicked his hand at Iris for her to enter. Opening the door, she saw all three cubs sitting on top of the bed. Oscar had a red fire truck centered on his lap, but he and the other cubs held hands so that their arms formed a loose circle.

Seeing Iris, Oscar slid his hands onto the fire truck, one finger absently flicking at the toy's ladder. More vehicles were scattered on the bed and the other cubs started playing with them.

Esme gestured at the visiting children. "Micah, Adam...help me make lunch."

"Up," Denver ordered when the boys didn't budge. "You can play some more after you eat."

Micah and Adam rose, their feet shuffling along the carpet in unwilling obedience. Before they could reach the door, Cade stopped them. Lifting one brow as he stared at Iris, Cade poked his chin in the smaller cub's direction.

Smiling at the boy despite the smell of dark magic on him and his playmate, Iris ran a hand against his spine as she asked, "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Adam," he mumbled. "Did you send Oscar back to the bad man?"

Guilt clouding her gaze, she shook her head. "Oscar hasn't gone anywhere, he just had a very bad dream."

She turned to the other boy and rested her palm between his shoulder blades. "You must be Micah."

A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth and she sucked a deep breath in. Glancing at Esme, she offered a discreet nod before breaking contact with Micah. "You two run along and help Esme with lunch."

She waited for them to leave before she turned to Oscar. He had climbed up into Denver's arms, his small hands clasped behind the big wolf's neck.

Seeing Iris approach, he buried his face against Denver's chest.

"Honey, I just want to make sure you are okay." She placed her hand on his back, watched him arch his spine in an attempt to avoid contact. "Maybe we can talk after lunch?"

Face still buried against Denver, Oscar shook his head.

"Okay, baby." She rubbed her hand against his back, pushing a sleepy magic through her fingertips to calm him. "We'll wait until you're ready."

Iris retreated into the hall, Cade by her side. He closed the door to Oscar's room, hesitated a second then wrapped his arms around her.

"All of them?" he asked.

She nodded, the sob breaking from her throat muffled by his clothes and chest. Her arms around his waist, she squeezed hard, trying not to think about the number of cubs that might have crystals in them, the terrible but unknown "why" of it fading in importance as she tallied the number of infants Quentin might have slaughtered in order to place those crystals.

Bile rose in her throat, acidic and uncontrollable. Cade guided her into a bathroom and stood beside her, holding Iris's hair as she spilled her guts into the toilet.

When she finished, he filled a rinse cup with water from the sink and handed it to her. He sat on the edge of the tub, waiting until she finished before he pulled her onto his lap and held her once more.

"Shh..." he soothed. "It's done. We need to focus on stopping it from ever happening again."

She nodded, unable to dam her tears and wishing like hell she could reach through Oscar's memories and shred the black-haired man into ribbons.