Suck It by Linsey Hall
8
Mac
That evening, we changed into our western wear and met Drakon in Amarillo. Earlier in the day, he’d sent a courier to my tower to pick up his disguise. When I saw him leaning against a beat-up old pickup truck outside of Amarillo’s main drag, I whistled low under my breath.
Agreed. I looked down at Genevieve, whose small dark eyes were bright on Drakon. He looks good.
He really did. Normally, he stuck to all black. But in his faded blue jeans and worn T-shirt, he looked like the cowboy from any Texas girl’s fantasies.
I’d expected him to look out of place. Instead, he looked like he’d been born in the saddle. And the beat-up red truck behind him was perfect for his new role.
He’d parked it in a lot behind a country bar that blared music meant to make drunk men cry. The dusty air was warm, and the sky extended forever in all directions. Texas was flat as a pool table in this part of the country, and it made everything look bigger.
Carrow, Eve, Seraphia, and Beatrix had accompanied me here. The Devil, Carrow’s mate, would join us at the festival later, once we were all in our places. Quinn had had to stay behind to tend bar at the Haunted Hound. Sometimes we could find another person to cover for us, but not today. Since the bar was the most popular access point to Guild City, we couldn’t actually close it down.
I crossed the street toward Drakon, unable to take my gaze off him. Halfway across, Genevieve veered off for parts unknown, but I knew the familiar would find me when I needed her.
“Where’d you get the truck?” I asked when I stopped in front of him.
“A friend.”
I raised a brow. “You have friends besides Dorian?”
“Dorian was the friend.” He nodded to another truck parked behind it. The faded blue paint was chipped and scratched, but it fit right in to Amarillo. “We’ve got that one, too.”
“Great.” We’d be able to approach the festival just like all the other shifters and not incite any undue interest. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small vial of liquid, then handed it over. “Drink this. It will give you a wolf’s signature.”
We’d already taken ours, and they’d been foul. Drakon didn’t so much as grimace as he threw it back. A moment later, his signature shifted slightly, and I could smell the warm tones of freshly mowed grass and hear the whistle of wind through trees. I felt warm, thick fur beneath my palm.
“It worked.” I turned to my friends. “You guys want to take that truck?”
“I’ll go with you,” Carrow said.
I smiled gratefully at her.
Seraphia saluted. “Lead the way, and we’ll see you there.”
The three of them headed to the other truck, while Carrow and I walked around to the passenger side of Drakon’s vehicle and climbed in. The truck was old enough that the bench seat was smooth and worn. I slid across the leather toward the middle, careful not to press my side against Drakon’s as he climbed behind the wheel.
All the same, it was impossible not to feel the heat of him across the scant inches that separated us. It made my head spin. Even his new signature, which I didn’t like quite as much as I liked the old, was enough to make my heart race.
He cranked the old engine, and it roared to life. I shot a glance at Carrow, who grinned.
“Never been to Texas before,” she said.
“I think you’re going to get a proper introduction at this festival.”
We rode in silence as Drakon navigated the highway toward the narrower country road. The earth extended forever in all directions, and it was hard to imagine living in a place so flat and quiet. The sun blazed through the windows, the cloudless sky providing no protection.
As we neared the site of the festival, more trucks joined ours. They turned off of smaller country lanes, joining us in a little caravan. At one point, the blue truck that carried my other friends was separated from us by a few other cars, but it didn’t matter. We’d all gone over the plan and knew where we’d go when we arrived. Each of us had Ludovic’s attack plan on our phone to consult.
I’d be teamed with Drakon, of course. My friends were used to fighting with each other, and as complicated as my relationship with Drakon was, there was one irrefutable truth—we were good in a fight together.
When we finally reached the site of the festival, it was like arriving in another world. The quiet stillness of the Texas countryside gave way to a miniature city made of tents and fenced-in pens. A few old barns rose high above everything else, and music blared, filling the air with the sound of rocking country music.
We joined the line of cars—mostly pickups—and found a parking spot behind a barbecue stand that smelled of smoked meat and rich, tangy sauce.
Carrow gave me a nod, then slid out of the car to find our friends.
Drakon turned to me. “Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He nodded. “Watch your back.”
“Always.” I climbed out of the truck. Dust billowed up from where my boots hit the ground, and I was glad to be wearing cutoff denim shorts and a thin plaid shirt tied up around my navel. It was hot as hell, a far different climate than I was used to in London.
Drakon and I made our way from the parking lot and into the main festival grounds, making sure to stick to the edge of the crowd. On our left, there were dozens of tents selling food and games with hundreds of shifters milling around. Beyond them, a massive fenced-off area protected a cowboy riding a horse. The festival was a rodeo, I realized.
Of course. This was Texas, after all.
As much as I wanted to disappear into the crowd and explore, we needed to stay at the outskirts. Fortunately, on our right side there was nothing but flat prairie stretching off into infinity.
Thanks to the enchanted outfits from Madame Arlette, no one seemed to notice us as we walked. I’d memorized the map that I’d taken a picture of and didn’t need to consult it to find our target—the attack spot located near the rubbish bins.
We had no idea who would be waiting there, or what exactly they planned, but it was our best bet. When we reached the area crowded with massive black bins, no one was there.
“They might wait until dark,” Drakon said.
It made sense. It was late afternoon, which gave us a few hours. “We can’t just stand here staring at the bins like lunatics. Madame Alette’s disguises are good, but not that good.”
“No, you’re right.” He turned to inspect the tents and stalls around us. The nearest one sold beer and had a dozen tall, tiny tables situated around it. “Let’s get a drink.”
I nodded. It would be perfect. We could stand and drink—or pretend to drink, depending on how long this took—while still watching the bins. Even better, the beer stall was right at the edge of the rodeo.
Fortunately, no one at the bar had seen our real faces, so they wouldn’t be able to connect us with the two people who had broken in last night.
Drakon strode toward the stall selling beer from massive kegs on ice. The crowd parted to let him pass, seeming to move aside almost out of instinct. He might have exchanged his usual signature for one of a wolf of mediocre strength, but there was still something about him that made people give way.
The pretty female bartender gave him a wide smile as she served up two pale golden beverages. From the way she leaned over the bar, it was clear she wouldn’t say no to giving him her number. Unfortunately for her, the idea of Drakon asking for any woman’s number was ridiculous. He was too old school and vampiric for something so modern.
He left her a tip and joined me at one of the small tables, handing a cup to me. I could feel the bartender’s envious gaze on me as I took a sip.
Honey, you have no idea.
Drakon didn’t just have baggage. He had a train car full of it.
We didn’t speak as we observed the crowd around us. The shifters were in a cheerful mood as they bought drinks and food or played carnival games. In the distance, I caught sight of the rodeo pens. Occasionally, the crowd parted just enough that I could see a person riding a horse or trying to rope a calf. The distant sound of the rodeo announcer echoed in the air, along with the applause of the crowd.
Overall, everyone seemed to be getting along extremely well. Then I realized.
“Ah,” I said. “The crowd around us is just McCabes. The Donahues are on the other side of the rodeo pens.” The purpose of the gathering might be to convince the two packs to live in harmony, but it was going to take more than some barbecue and carnival games.
“Perhaps there’s a ceremony later.”
“It makes the most sense.” I inspected everyone around me, noting that they didn’t look like they intended to make nice with the enemy any time soon. They stuck to their own little groups, never sparing a look at the other side. “I bet that’s what Ludovic’s people will be waiting for. A ceremony will have everyone gathered together.”
Drakon nodded, his keen gaze scanning the crowd. He looked like he stood at the edge of a battlefield, every muscle ready for action and his hand ready to reach for a blade. He was pure predator, and some of the shifters were starting to look at him funny.
“You need to chill out,” I said.
He raised a perfect brow, his brilliant eyes glinting with the slightest amusement. “Chill out?”
“You look like you’re about to tear off the head of the nearest person who looks at you wrong.” What I didn’t say was that he looked like a warrior of old, impossibly powerful and deadly.
He didn’t need to hear that from me, and I certainly didn’t need to say it.
Hell, I was losing my mind to even think it.
We watched the crowd in silence, nursing our beers as the people around us grew more drunk. When two men stumbled into each other and immediately began a halfhearted fistfight, Drakon shook his head. “That’s another reason for Ludovic to wait. Their defenses will be lowered.”
I nodded toward a man and woman standing near a carnival game about twenty feet away. Neither had a drink in their hand, and they both looked alert and wary. One spoke into a comms charm at his wrist, and the way he moved suggested he’d been in the security business for a long time. “Looks like they’ve set up guards, though. The alphas are taking Glencarrough’s warning seriously, it seems.”
“Not seriously enough.”
“No, I’m sure you’re right.” I turned back to the bins, catching sight of something I hadn’t noticed before.
There was a slight shimmer to the air at the farthest edge and a gray haze. I squinted, trying to make out whatever it was, but I couldn’t get any details. It was only because I was already wary that I noticed something amiss, however. “Look over there.”
Drakon followed my gaze, a frown stretching across his face. “Someone is hidden by magic.”
I nodded. “Probably similar to whatever spell is on our clothes. Let’s go check it out.”
He left his half-finished beer and strode toward the edge of the carnival grounds.
“Hang on, pal.” I raced up beside him and grabbed his hand. “You look all business and stand out like a sore thumb. Our disguises from Madame Alette can only go so far, especially while we’re still partially within the crowd.”
He glanced down at me, his brief annoyance transforming to thoughtful agreement. “What do you propose?”
“The only logical thing for two people sneaking off behind some bins.” I raised his hand in front of our faces. “We look like we’re sneaking off to make out.”
Heat flashed in his eyes, so briefly that I thought I could have mistaken it. But no, it was there.
My own heart leapt, and I tried to mentally shove the stupid thing back down. No, we weren’t going to make out behind some bins in the middle of a Texas prairie, no matter how nice the idea sounded. Nice, but crazy. For a lot of reasons.
“Come on. Try to look a bit drunk.” I dragged him off toward the bins, giving my step a slight wobble. I didn’t know if anyone was watching, but it didn’t matter. We needed to take every precaution.
Drakon joined me, doing a poor job of appearing to be drunk. But at least he no longer appeared to be charging off toward battle. It wasn’t like he was the sort to let his defenses down anyway. The briefest glance made that obvious.
Together, we made our way around to the back of the bins. There was a small wooden shed that provided cover, and I leaned against Drakon’s shoulder as we disappeared around the edge. His heat burned into me, but I ignored it.
All for show.
Sort of. We were far enough from the crowd that Madame Alette’s magic should have kicked in, and they wouldn’t notice us anyway. The most important thing was that whoever was hidden back here hadn’t seen us.
I couldn’t quite see them, but I could hear their hushed whispers coming from within a section of hazy air. True invisibility potions were incredibly hard to come by, and half measures like the ones we were using were common.
Normally, they’d work. It was only the fact that I knew where to look for a threat that had allowed me to find them.
Drakon and I pressed our backs against the rough wooden wall of the shed as we eavesdropped on our targets.
“You’ve got the wolfsbane,” said a man that I couldn’t see. He was just a shadowy gray form hidden by magic, but from the sound of his voice, it seemed like he was standing to the left of the other figure. “I’ve done my part, and I’m getting out of here.”
“Just like a sorcerer, bailing as soon as possible,” the other figure scoffed. She sounded like a woman, but it was impossible to make out more than the fact that she might be shorter than the sorcerer.
“I’m not the one who wants to wreak havoc on the shifters. What you’re planning, I want no part of it. I’m delivery and nothing else.” The sorcerer moved away from the woman, headed toward us.
As he walked, his figure became more visible. As he became fully corporeal again, he shook his limbs like he was shaking off a spell. He was a tall, slender man with pale hair and eyes. Though he wore cowboy attire like we did, he looked like the kind of guy who was more comfortable in tailored suits.
Behind him, the figure that still stood within the protective forcefield seemed to disappear. The air no longer appeared hazy, and the dark shadow vanished.
As the sorcerer neared us, Drakon and I pressed our bodies firmer against the wooden wall of the shed and shared a quick nod of understanding. We were hidden, but only for a few more moments.
As soon as the sorcerer stepped in front of us, Drakon grabbed him and slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his shout. I jumped out of the way as Drakon swung him around to press him against the wooden wall.
The man’s eyes widened inside his pale face, fear flashing. In the background, I could hear the cheerful carnival music. It gave our abduction a creepily comedic air.
“We’re going to ask questions.” Drakon’s voice was quiet and thick with the power of his vampire compulsion.
Fortunately, the man’s eyes fogged over. It was working.
I might have a strange new power to force people to tell me what I wanted to know—maybe even to do things—but I wasn’t practiced at using it. It would be easier if Drakon could use his vampire magic.
“Tell me how much wolfsbane you’ve delivered, and how strong it is.”
The man grimaced, clearly fighting the compulsion. I felt Drakon’s magic surge on the air, his natural signature overpowering the potion he’d taken to make it appear wolfy.
The man sagged, angry defeat in his eyes. When Drakon removed his hand, the man spoke in stilted sentences, clearly trying to hold back. “A half dozen cannisters. Extra large. Strong enough to put all these wolves to sleep, but not kill them.”
“Yet,” Drakon growled. “You know they can’t be planning just a nap for these shifters.”
The man threw up his hands. “I swear, I don’t know anything beyond that.”
“He’s telling the truth.” I could read it on him as clearly as I could see the fear in his eyes. “He doesn’t know.”
“Who are you?” Drakon demanded.
“Caleb LaSalle. And I swear, I’m just the middle man.”
LaSalle. I’d heard of the family. They were a group of sorcerers from Magic Side, Chicago who had a vendetta against werewolves. One of their main businesses was producing wolfsbane and selling it.
“Do you know where they’ve hidden the cannisters?” Drakon asked.
“No. My job stopped at delivery.”
“Hang on,” I said, staring at the way his eyelid twitched. “You don’t know for sure, but you have an idea, don’t you?”
He grimaced, then said, “I know there’s one hidden in the area where the competitors wait to go into the arena.”
“Where, exactly?” Drakon shook him lightly.
“I don’t know that, I swear.” He threw his hands up again, panic arcing across his face.
“Truth,” I said. “The sorcerer said there are six cannisters total. That leaves five. Where are they?”
“I don’t know, I swear.”
“Truth.”
“When are they going to set them off?” Drakon asked.
“Not until the ceremony when everyone is gathered around.”
That would be at night. I’d overheard someone talking about it. So we had time.
Drakon looked at me. “What do we do with him now?”
“Stash him in this shed, I think.”
The man sagged in relief.
“We weren’t going to kill you,” I said. “Not our style.”
“It’s his style.” The sorcerer nodded at Drakon.
I couldn’t argue with that, but there was no time to, anyway. Drakon knocked him out with a swift punch, and we got to work tying him up and shoving him in the old shed.