Tempting Evil

Chapter Ten

The force of the blast sent hot air scurrying past my skin and rattled the nearby windows. A plume of flame reached skyward, fat fingers of yellow and orange that briefly illuminated the western edge of the house and the trees that grew nearby. These fiery fingers were accompanied by chunks of wood and concrete—weighty missiles that thudded to the ground with bone-jarring force. The spurt of flame died, becoming little more than a sullen orange glow that lit the night, but the acrid smell of smoke filled the air, mingling with screams that spoke of fear or pain or both.

I didn't even stop to think about what I was going to do or how safe it might be, just ran like hell around the side of the house. I wasn't the only one. Guards filled the night, pouring out of the buildings like a well trained military force, some of them running for the end of the building, others forming a line to cordon off the area. Starr's men were efficient, you had to give them that. I kept the cloak of night wrapped around me as I slipped through the cordon and followed those heading for the explosion area. The closer I got to it, the more the air sizzled. Not just with heat, but with steam. The building's sprinklers, inside and out, were working, and the remaining flames were swiftly dying under the assault.

And the flames weren't the only things. The explosion had happened in the wing that housed the kitchen and dining areas and had basically blasted them apart. In normal circumstances it wouldn't have mattered, because most places who had live-in staff didn't often house them in the main building let alone in the same area. But the staff here were. With the force of the explosion tearing apart the ground floor level, the upper ones had no place to go but down.

I couldn't see any of the dead or dying in the black and burning rubble, but I could feel them. Their agony rode the night, surrounding me with the scent and despair of death, until every breath, every pore, was filled with it and it felt like I was drowning under the weight of it.

My stomach rolled, then rose. I spun away and bent over, losing what little dinner I'd eaten. A hand touched my back, and warmth spread like fire across the chill that was encasing me, holding it back if not totally erasing it.

"You are not an empath." Though I couldn't see him, his voice was next to my ear, indicating he was leaning close. "You should not be feeling what you are feeling."

His shadow-held fingers caught my hair, holding it away from my face. I sucked in a breath, battling the roiling in my stomach. "I'm a werewolf. Death is something we can smell."

"But you are not smelling this. You are feeling it, and that is completely different."

"I'm aware of that." Aware of that fact that he shouldn't be feeling what I was feeling. He might be an empath, but I had my emotions locked down as tightly as him. Or so I'd thought, up until then. I took another breath and carefully straightened. My stomach made threatening movements but didn't immediately rise. I closed my eyes and tried breathing through my mouth. It didn't seem to help. Death still rode the air, and its taste was foul. I swallowed heavily. "Can you read any of the guards? Do they know what has happened?"

He was silent for several minutes, but energy stirred across my skin, powerful enough to stand on end the hairs along my arms and neck.

"One of the guards reported the smell of gas several minutes before the explosion. They believe one or more of the stove jets may have been left on."

"So it was an accident?"

"It would appear that way."

I glanced in his direction. "Appear?"

"They are unsure where the spark that set off the explosion came from."

"It's a kitchen. They're full of pilot lights."

"True. Let's hope someone thinks to turn the gas off at the meter, or there will be more unpleasantness." He paused. "Is that one of Starr's lieutenants?"

I glanced down at the rubble. Moss was picking his way through the ruins, his hair and clothes disheveled and torn, his face scratched and bloody.

"Yeah, it's Moss. Damn shame he wasn't killed." I rubbed my arms. Though death still rode the night, the smell and taste of it was dying. Whether it actually was, or whether I was merely growing used to it was something I couldn't tell.

Quinn rubbed my back, sending warmth spinning across my skin. "He doesn't look all that happy."

With the last of the chills being chased away by his touch, I felt a little better. As long as I didn't see anything resembling mashed humanity in the ruins below, I'd be okay. I hoped. "I imagine barely escaping a gas explosion would do that to a person."

Amusement spun around me, as bright and as enticing as the first dance of sunshine that broke the hold of night. "This is more than that. Can you hear him?"

"Not from this distance." I frowned. "Why don't you just read his mind?"

"Some form of psi-deadener is blocking me. I could break through it easily enough, but it would warn him of my presence."

"Then let's get closer."

"Are you up to going closer?" His touch moved from my back to my arm, his fingers sliding down my arm and under my elbow. I wasn't wobbly enough to need support, but I wasn't going to fight it, either. Not when the warmth that flared out from his fingertips seemed to keep the horror at bay.

"As long as I keep upwind of the building, I should be fine." Though if I saw bodies, or bits of bodies, it would be a totally different story.

I'd seen death, in various incarnations, a few times over the years and it had never bothered me like this. I'd seen one wolf ripped apart by another, and hadn't felt sick, much less puked. I'd witnessed Misha being eaten from the inside out, and though I'd been both horrified and sickened, I hadn't come close to losing my stomach. But in all those times, I'd never tasted the death. Had never felt as if the souls of those who were dying or dead were invading me, filling me with their shock and anger and pain.

I wish I hadn't felt it tonight.

I swallowed heavily and forced my feet to move, keeping my gaze on Moss more than what he was walking through. Or by. He stopped to talk to several guards who were hovering near the far edge of the remains. Moisture from the nearby sprinklers danced around him, covering him in a fine haze of silver. He cither didn't care or didn't notice, but there was something in his very stillness that was chilling. Deadly.

Merle might have felt foul, but he didn't scare me like Moss suddenly scared me. Just looking at him had trepidation running up and down my spine.

And I had to hope that the guard was right, that Moss and Merle didn't share, because there was no way on this earth I could cope with getting sexually close to that man.

So how did my brother deal with it? He regularly used sex to get information about targets—used it and enjoyed it, no matter what or who he was doing. Was it merely the fact I was psychic and he wasn't that gave him the advantage? If he'd been able to taste the foulness of the people involved, would he still be able to get intimate with them?

Somehow, I suspected the answer might be yes. Rhoan had never cared who or how many, as long as he was enjoying himself.

I'd always been a little more fussy—despite what Quinn might think. Though I guess there were huge differences in what a werewolf termed fussy and what a vampire with human sensibilities might.

We circled the ruined sections of building, and began to edge closer to Moss and the guards, all the while keeping the shadows close and the breeze to our front so that it blew our scents away from, not toward, the men below.

"No, sir," the shorter of the two guards said, his tone all military preciseness. "I saw no movement in the kitchen."

"And yet you were the one who reported hearing steps?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long before the explosion was this?"

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, sir."

Moss swore and snapped his gaze to the second man. "And you?"

"I saw a heat signature in the kitchen, but by the time I got there, the person had left through the window."

"And you didn't give chase?"

"I saw no person, sir. Only a fox sniffing out the rubbish."

Something in me stilled. A fox? Nerida was a werefox, and even a vamp couldn't tell the difference between the heat signature of a real fox to that of a shapeshifter or werefox. The guard was a shifter himself, so he should have been able to sense the difference, but if he'd been more interested in getting back to bed, maybe he'd simply taken what he'd seen at face value.

And while I had no doubt that real foxes did scavenge around the bins here nightly, it just seemed a little too much of a coincidence that this fox was sighted so soon after the guard had sprung someone in the kitchen. Fact was, most real foxes would have scampered at the first hint of movement. They certainly wouldn't have stayed there scavenging as a vampire approached. Most wild ones feared the undead almost as much as most humans did.

But what would Nerida be doing in the kitchen? Had she been involved in the explosion or was it merely a coincidence? Why would anyone want to blow this section of the house up, anyway? There was little here but the kitchen and dining areas, and the staff who ran them.

So what was Moss doing here? How'd he get caught in the explosion when he was supposedly talking to the new intake of guards?

"I want you to do a walk around the area. See if you can spot that heat signature again."

The words were barely out of Moss's mouth when I was dragged back then forced up the slight knoll and into a knot of trees.

"Why the hell did you do that?" I asked, shaking free of both Quinn's grip and the shadows concealing my form as we stopped.

Quinn also stepped free of night's cloak, and a lot more elegantly than me. "He was about to switch to infrared. He would have spotted us in an instant."

"Given he wasn't even facing us, there was plenty of time to move."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it wasn't worth the risk of discovery." He paused, his gaze moving to the mess below us. "I think I'll follow Moss for a while. If you find Rhoan, let him know I am here, and that I will contact him later."

"If you kill Moss, they're going to know this place has been infiltrated."

His gaze flicked to mine, obsidian depths once again devoid of emotion. "I am not the amateur here."

He had a point, but it was an annoying one. "No, you're just the man hell-bent on revenge, regardless of the cost."

"I will not do anything to jeopardize you or Rhoan."

"That a promise?"

His hesitation was brief but nevertheless there. "Yes."

I studied him for a moment, weighing his words, hearing truth and yet not trusting it. "I don't know how much stock you vampires put in promises, but let me give one to you—if Rhoan gets hurt because your need for revenge overrides your vow, I'll make you pay for it."

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked down the hill, the shadows again taking him from sight as he neared the end of the trees.

I rubbed my head wearily, and let my gaze roam across the smoking mass of rubble and partial walls below. Moss was across the far side now, talking to other guards. The first two were walking around, heading my way as they scanned the area. Time to get moving, before I was spotted.

I padded through the trees, keeping to the deep shadows and away from the occasional flickers of moonlight. I didn't have the cloak of night wrapped around me because my head was beginning to pound, and it would take more energy to hold the shadows close than I really had right now. So hitting moonlight when my skin was basically lily white wouldn't be a good thing. As I drew away from the wreckage and closer to the whole sections of the house, I noticed a small gathering of people standing or kneeling in a group near the front of one of the main doors. A heartbeat later, a tingle of awareness ran across my skin, and my heart leapt with joy. My brother was amongst those below.

I stopped, my gaze searching the small crowd. I couldn't see anyone with red hair, and it took me a while to realize why. Rhoan didn't have red hair. Thanks to Liander's magic, he was now boring brown.

With that in mind, he wasn't hard to find. He was on the outskirts of the group, sitting on the ground, his clothes dusty and torn and a bloody cloth held to his head.

For the second time that night I reacted without thinking, and it took Rhoan looking up and minutely shaking his head to remember where I was and who we were supposed to be.

I slowed to walking speed and skirted the main group, pretending concern and offering words of encouragement to those being tended to before making my way toward him. His gaze met mine. His brown eyes might be alien but his smile was all too familiar. So warm and welcoming. God, I was so happy to see him again, it was hard to restrain the urge to dance.

"Hey," he said, so softly it was little more than a stirring of air. "Glad to see you got here safely."

"And I'm glad to see you got out of that mess safely." I wanted to touch him, hug him, but that was impossible, so I simply kneeled beside him, my knees touching his thighs as I raised his hand to see the wound. It was nothing too bad, just a nasty jagged cut he could have easily healed by shifting shape. "Why haven't you fixed that?"

"Because my wolf is red, which is at odds with my new identity."

Of course. Stupid me. "So why were you even in the kitchen?"

"It's been a pretty rugged day, and none of us had much of a chance to eat." He shrugged. "Moss had arranged a meal in the kitchen, but luckily, he got a call about a possible intruder and split us up into groups to check out the different areas. I was in the outside group."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah." He touched my knee and squeezed it lightly. That one action suggested he'd been a lot closer to the blast than he was leading me to believe. "What's been happening with you? Besides pissing off Jack, that is."

I grinned slightly. "He should know me well enough to realize there's no way known I'd throw the baby out with the bathwater."

"Any attempt to rescue that child could be dangerous."

"I know that. I have to try, though."

He smiled. "I know that. Just don't attempt it too soon, or the whole mission could fall down around our ears."

I glanced around to ensure there still wasn't anyone within listening range. "That might still happen given certain time frames have been upped."

"Yeah, Jack mentioned that. Give me a hand up, and we'll talk as you help me to my quarters."

I rose and offered him my hand. "Have the medics seen you?"

"One of the lab boys declared I was fit enough to move. I've been ordered to clean up and get back to work within the hour."

He grabbed my hand. I hauled him easily to his feet, then tucked a shoulder under his and wrapped my arm around his waist. He didn't need the extra support—I could feel the strength in him and he wasn't the least bit shaky—but at least this way we could talk softly and take our time without raising suspicions in unwanted areas. "Nice of them to give you an hour."

"Yeah, they're all heart." His voice was dry. "So, what's been happening to you?"

"I've touched base with Merle, and learned I can read his thoughts."

"And?"

"And I now understand what you were trying to say when you asked me if I knew what I was doing."

He blew out a breath, and the sudden anguish that briefly flared in his eyes gave me some idea of what he'd been feeling over the last twenty-four hours. And it sure as hell was worse than anything I'd actually been going through. I hugged him close for a moment, letting him know without words that I was okay, that it wasn't really as bad as he'd been imagining.

"It's never pleasant the first time."

"Does it get any easier the twentieth? Fiftieth?"

"Yes, because we are wolves and sex is as important to us as air itself. You'll learn to switch off and just enjoy the moment, if not the person." His gaze met mine. "But that's easy for me to say when I'm not psychic and cannot ever feel things as deeply—or as intimately—as you do."

Some of the tension that had been with me for hours slithered away. He understood exactly what I was feeling, without me having to say a word. But then, if my twin didn't, who would? "It's not the sex itself that worries me. Hell, I was with Talon for ages and I can't ever say that I actually liked him. With Merle, it was different. It felt like his foulness was invading my very essence. But Moss felt a hundred times worse, and if they all felt like that, I just couldn't do it. Jack's telling me I have no choice but—"

"You'll always have at least one choice, even if you are forced into the system. You don't have to fuck them, sis. Not when you have the psychic strength to make them believe anything you want them to believe."

I blinked, and something that was either relief or joy or a mix of both ran through me. Goddamn it, he was right. Even if I was forced into the system, I didn't have to play it entirely lack's way. It didn't matter whether the seduction was real or not, because that wasn't the point. Getting information was, and Jack couldn't complain as long as I was doing that.

Of course, Jack didn't just want me as an information gatherer, but as a full guardian—a hunter and a killer—but that was a whole different fight. And it certainly wasn't a place I was willing to go or even compromise on, even if he did drag me into the ranks.

I leaned forward and kissed Rhoan's cheek. "Thank you for clearing muddy thoughts."

He grinned. "Isn't that what big brothers are for?"

I smiled. He'd come howling into the world a whole two minutes before me. "That and rescuing little sisters when they bite off more than they can chew."

"Which thankfully hasn't happened in a while. Anything else I need to know about?"

I told him about the spirit lizard, then about Quinn's presence. He swore under his breath. "Jack's not going to be happy."

"Which is why I thought I'd leave it to you to tell him."

His brown eyes glimmered with amusement. "Coward."

"Yep." I looked up and noted that we were drawing closer to the guards' quarters. I needed to ask my questions before we ran out of time. "Did you see or feel anything unusual when you were scouting around the outside of the kitchen?"

He smiled. "I've a feeling you already know the answer." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of cloth. "I saw a shifter pretending to nose through the rubbish. The minute I approached she ran, but I found this in amongst the rubbish. I think it must have dropped from a pocket during her original shapeshift."

"You didn't give chase?"

"I had no chance."

He handed me the cloth, which turned out to be a gray and white handkerchief. Just like the one that had been tucked into Nerida's breast pocket.

"It had a musky, feminine scent, but there was little in the way of perfume," he continued. "Given what it's been through recently, it now probably smells of nothing more than me and smoke."

I sniffed it. He was right. "One of my roommates is a werefox, and happened to be wearing a hanky like this earlier. I might go check she still is."

"Be careful with her. Foxes are as slippery as snakes."

"Or as cunning as foxes." He groaned at my admittedly bad pun, and I grinned. "So you think this werefox might have have something to do with the blast?"

"I have no idea, but she's certainly worth questioning. Just don't get caught doing so by the wrong people."

"I won't." I stopped as we neared the gate leading into the guards' quarters. There was a guard watching us, but the mere fact I couldn't read him said he was human. He wouldn't hear what we were saying as long as we went no closer. "One thing you do need to know—there's three underground floors that aren't on the plans. I have no idea what's on the first level, but there's a small research lab on sub-two, and Merle, Moss, and Starr have quarters on sub-three."

He nodded. "They told us that during briefing. Warned us that no one but the head of security and assigned guards went down there."

"Did they mention the fact there's an escape tunnel leading from one of the sublevel floors out into the forest?" When he shook his head, I continued, "And there's also what looks to be a second elevator on the third level that no one else seems to be aware of."

"So how come you know about it?"

"I saw Merle key it open. When I asked Dia about it, she said it was a type of air lock provided for Starr's protection."

"But you don't believe she's telling the truth?"

"Oh, I believe she believes that's what it is. I just don't believe it is that."

"So the levels could go lower?"

"Why else would they have a secret elevator? If it went back up to the other levels, surely others would know about it?"

"It's a lead worth following. Though unless I can attract Starr's attention, I won't be the one following it."

A shiver ran down my spine. "Be careful with him. He doesn't walk in the same sane world as you and me."

"That's a given." He squeezed my shoulder then stepped away from my hold. "Keep in touch."

"I will. Just promise to be careful around your target. I have a bad feeling about him."

"That's because he's a bad man." He gave me a lopsided grin. "It's part of my job to associate with, and then destroy, bad men."

"But this bad man seems to think he knows me, disguise or no. He's in our lire somehow, and the slightest slip could tip him off as to who we really arc."

"Warning heeded." He glanced briefly at the watching guard, then leaned forward to kiss my cheek. "Don't play with our friendly neighborhood stallion too much. You have got a job to do here, you know."

I gave him a light whack on the arm before he could jump away. He chuckled softly, gave me a wink, then walked off. I watched him until he was inside, then turned and headed for my own quarters.

The fighters' quarters were full, and most of the women were asleep. One or two were staring out the windows or chatting amongst themselves, but for the most part, silence reigned.

Berna was in bed and, as she'd warned earlier, snoring heavily enough to wake the dead. Or undead, as the case around here might be. Nerida wasn't in the room, and her toiletries bag was missing from the bedside table where she'd placed it earlier. But the sound of running water was coming from the bathroom.

Perfect. Just perfect.

I collected my still damp towel and soap, and headed to the bathroom. The water flicked off as I entered.

"Hey," Nerida said, "throw me the spare towel that's sitting near the basin, will you?"

I quietly shut the door, dumped my towel and soap in a nearby stall, then moved over to grab Nerida's towel. "Catch," I said, and tossed it high, not over the door but at the camera in the corner above it. I might never have been tall enough to be a basketball player, but I was a pretty handy shot at goal. The towel landed precisely where I wanted it—catching the body of the camera and draping down over the edge of the lens. With the camera now covered and sound not an issue—thanks to the fact there were no microphones in the bathroom—I stepped forward, raised a foot, and kicked open the door.

"You stupid bit—" The rest of Nerida's curse was lost as the door slammed back against the stall wall.

She spun around, a look of shock and perhaps a little fear etching her features. I gave her no time to react any more than that, simply wrapped a hand around her throat and slammed her back against the wall.

She grunted—a sound that was strained and angry all at once. The fear, if it had been fear I'd seen, was gone. And that in itself suggested this woman was more than what she was pretending. Anyone with any sense feared a werewolf when they were angry. That she didn't meant she could defend herself when she wanted—or she had other sources of protection I wasn't aware of.

Even as the thought crossed my mind, awareness tingled across my senses. I ducked instantly, and a fist the size of a shovel skimmed across the top of my head. I squeezed Nerida's neck harder, making her gasp, even as I lashed out backward with a bare foot. I connected with flesh, felt the blow sink deep enough to hit bone, and got a grunt in response.

"I'll break her fucking neck if you don't stop, Berna. I swear to God I will."

"Release her, then." Berna's words were as quiet as mine, but filled with the restrained promise of violence.

"Release someone who's just killed at least ten people? I hardly think so."

I twisted around to check on Berna, but didn't ease the force of my grip around Nerida's neck. The werefox was huffing, her face darkening with her battle to breathe, but I didn't damn well care. Everything I'd smelled, everything I'd felt, when I first walked up to the blast area had come back with a rush, and the dead and dying who'd filled me with their pain wanted revenge. And my fingers—my whole arm—was shaking with the effort not to squeeze that little bit tighter. To kill her, and let the dead have her.

Berna's brown eyes narrowed a little. Bear-shifters might have the rep for honesty, but I had a feeling I'd be getting anything but that from this bear-shifter. At least for the immediate future.

"Don't speak rubbish, wolf. She was with one of the people from the arena for hours, then she came here. She didn't have anything to do with that explosion."

"Hard to believe when she was actually spotted not once, but twice. And if you don't step back this instant, she's one dead werefox." I squeezed a little harder, just to emphasize my seriousness, and Nerida made an odd gargling sound. I eased up immediately. I didn't actually want to kill her, no matter what the remnants of the dead might be urging.

Berna raised her hands and stepped back. "Okay, okay, just let her breathe."

I loosened my grip a little more, and Nerida's entire body shook as she sucked in great gulps of air. Guilt ran through me, but the dead were having none of that and quickly swatted it away.

And the fact that I could feel them, knew that they were all around me, demanding revenge, was terrifying. Empathy was one thing—but empathy with the dead? What the hell kind of talent was that?

Not one that I wanted, that was for sure.

"Now, just let her go," Berna continued, in that same quiet tone. Like she was dealing with a psycho ready to explode. And if that impression meant they were less likely to try a concerted attack, then I was happy to keep reinforcing it. "And we'll talk about this like civilized human beings."

"Which none of us are." I shook Nerida a little. "Why did you blow up the kitchen area?"

"I didn—"

"You were seen," I cut in. "In your fox form, twice, by guards."

"There are tons of foxes running wild," Berna said patiently. "That doesn't mean squat."

I let the handkerchief unfold and held it up so both could see. "How many foxes run around with a gray and white hanky in their pockets? A handkerchief that held a feminine scent the match of Nerida's—at least until the guard holding it was caught in the explosion."

Berna swore. Nerida didn't say anything, just stared at me with small green eyes that spoke of death. I snorted softly. "I don't fear the death you're threatening, fox, because the dead are all around us. And they are demanding satisfaction."

That got a reaction. Finally, something more than anger sparked in those beady green eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, unless you start telling the truth, I'm going to give the dead what they want. You."

"You can't—"

"I can. Or I could report you to the guards and let them give you to those blue things in the arena."

She shuddered. "No. Please, I'll talk."

"I want truth, not lies." I glanced back at Berna. "I want to know why you're both here and why you blasted the kitchen."

"Then what? You'll go to the guards anyway. We lose either way, wolf."

"Not if you tell me the truth."

"And trust the word of a thief?" Berna snorted softly. "I think not."

I glanced at the covered camera, then back to Nerida. "The guards will undoubtedly be here soon to unfoul the camera. It's your choice—trust me, and tell me what is going on, or I'll hand my discoveries over to the guards and let them make of it what they will."

Indecision shone in her eyes. She didn't want to trust me—neither of them did. But we'd all seen what had happened to anyone who went against Starr's rule, and that was far worse than anything I might do.

"Okay, okay," she said, voice hoarse.

I glanced at Berna as footsteps echoed in the hallway. "And you?"

"I will talk."

"And not attack?"

She grinned. It wasn't a pleasant grin. "Not immediately. But I would suggest you sleep lightly."

That threat could at least be dealt with later. I released Nerida and she collapsed to the ground, alternatively coughing and sucking in air. I stepped past her, past Berna, and into the other stall, slipping the handkerchief under my towel before quickly turning on the water. As I stepped under it, I switched on the com-link. The door opened and the guard stepped in, I put on my best confused expression as I stepped out of the water and grabbed my towel.

"What the hell is going on?" The scowling guard looked me up and down, then shifted his gaze to Berna, who hadn't moved.

"Anxiety attack," she said. "Sometimes happens to foxes in enclosed spaces."

"Why is that towel up there, then?" He waved irritably at the camera.

"I meant to toss it over the stall door and threw too high." I shrugged.

He grunted, and pointed to Berna. "You, get that down immediately."

Berna obeyed.

"All of you, you've got ten minutes. Finish whatever it is you're doing and get back to your room."

The guard gave us all another once-over, like he suspected there was more going on than what was being said, then grunted and spun on his heel. I waited until he was out of earshot, then crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. I couldn't physically see Nerida from where I was standing, but her image was crystal clear in the mirror—which was why I'd chosen this stall.

"You heard the man—we've got ten minutes. Tell me a little story."

Nerida leaned her head back against the tiled wall. The red marks around her neck were very evident, and this time not even the dead could hold back the guilt.

"I didn't mean for the explosion to be so big."

"You put gas and flame together, and the end result is usually a big explosion."

She grimaced and ran a hand through her damp hair. "Yeah. But I didn't mean for it to bring down the floors above. I just wanted it to be big enough to kill a man."

"What man?" But even as I asked the question, I knew.

"Leo Moss." She spat the name like it was a curse, and even though I was viewing her through a mirror, it was very evident that the complete and utter hatred she had for the man verged on madness.

"Why?"

"Because he and Merle killed my father and destroyed my family." Her gaze met mine in the mirror. "I will kill them both. Have no doubt of that."

I didn't doubt her vow. I just didn't think she had the strength to do it. I glanced at Berna. "And your part in this whole little revenge scheme?"

The bear-shifter shrugged. "I came here in the hope of keeping her alive. We've been friends a long time."

"If these are those two women you asked me about," Jack said, voice like a scratch of anger in my ear—was I ever going to get a dressing down when this mission was over!—"prelim searches have revealed they had military time together, in the ranger division. Left four years ago, and the trail runs a little cold after that."

"Friends don't usually go to such lengths—unless they've sworn an oath to protect each other." Or were lovers. I paused, then aimed the second question at both Jack and Berna. "How far would you go?"

"Until we know more about these two," Jack said, "you say nothing of your reasons for being there."

Which was going to be damn difficult, considering they already had their suspicions about my identity after I'd challenged them both over the bed.

"She saved my lire." Berna hesitated, then added, "and I will go as far as I am required to uphold my vow and return the favor."

Which was a very military sentiment. It also explained why they'd moved as one when they'd threatened me earlier. "How did Moss and Merle wipe out your family, Nerida, and how did you uncover information about this place? It's not exactly on any known map."

The bear-shifter's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do either of those matter to a thief?"

I smiled coldly. "I have my own reasons for being here, and they aren't so very different from yours."

"I knew you weren't what you were pretending to be," Nerida muttered, as she pushed to her feet.

I straightened a little, watching them both warily. "Answer the question."

"My family ran a shipping business. When my father refused to sell, Merle arranged to have him arrested. Moss then killed my mother and my sister." She paused. Her gaze became haunted, and her struggle with a grief that was obviously still too raw, too close to the surface, was evident. I wondered how long ago it had all happened. "He has the aura of a were and a taste for pain. He used my family until their injuries were too great, and then he left them to die. Only they didn't die soon enough, and I found them. That's how I know who it was. That's when I made my vow."

I glanced at Berna to confirm the statement, and it was in that moment Nerida attacked. She was fast, with the skills of a fully trained soldier to back her up, and for several seconds it was all I could do to simply block and survive, let alone counterattack. Granted, she was no Gautier, but then, this wasn't a wide arena but a shower stall with next to no room to move. And I was in it while she wasn't.

I ducked several whistle-fast blows, caught another in my fist, and missed the one aimed at my stomach. Her fist sunk deep and my breath left in a whoosh. I had no choice but to ignore the burning sensation in my gut as I ducked and weaved and was gradually driven back farther into the stall.

Then lights went out. Berna, probably. And though she was undoubtedly trying to stop the monitoring guards from seeing what was going on, she'd unknowingly given me an advantage. Night was my friend, not theirs. I switched to infrared, dropped underneath another one-two series of blows, then came up fast and pushed her backward, as hard as I could. As the werefox staggered backward and tried to catch her balance, I wrapped the shadows around myself then leapt upward. Wolves could leap extremely high—vampires even higher. I had the skills of both at my call, and landed with little effort on the thin edge of the stall wall. I took a moment to balance, then quietly stepped onto the top of the next stall, then the next, before easing lightly back down to the floor.

"Where the fuck has she gone?" There was a thump and a rattle as Nerida's fist hit the wail. "She's disappeared."

"That's impossible. She's probably just cowering in a corner." Exasperation edged Berna's voice. Maybe she was getting a little tired of her friend's actions.

And I had to wonder why they were wasting time thumping the walls rather than using their olfactory senses—hell, given I'd been with Kade in the hay and had then been surrounded in smoke and death, I'd have to be leaving one hell of a scent trail.

But I wasn't about to give either of them time to remember that option. Nor did I have much time left to contain them, as the scowling guard was probably already on his way back down.

Berna bent over and peered into the stall. I padded over, shook off the shadows, then grabbed a fistful of her short hair, yanking her back and up before thrusting her hard into the stall. She collided with Nerida and both hit the back wall, and there was a crack loud enough to suggest broken bones. They went down in a heap and stayed there. But the heated looks being flung my way suggested it wasn't because they were too hurt to move, but rather because any good soldier knows when to retreat in order to fight another day.

I crossed my arms and resumed questioning. "How did you set the gas off?"

Nerida swore as pulled her leg out from under Berna's rump. "Small incendiary device we snuck in."

I wasn't going to ask how they'd managed that, because given all the bags had been thoroughly searched, there was really only one place they could have hidden it. And I was mighty surprised Starr hadn't brought in measures to cater for such occurrences. Hell, I knew for a fact many of the cartel employed female assassins. A good amount of Directorate time was spent hunting down the bitches after they'd completed their bloody deeds.

"And you didn't ever stop to consider who else might be in the way of the explosion?"

Nerida's gaze met mine. "Not once I saw Moss."

Insane with revenge and blind because of it. Great. "And have you ever stopped to consider that the picture is way bigger than the piece you're concentrating on?"

"No."

"Then I suggest you fucking start, before you end up on the wrong end of someone else's revenge." I flicked on the light. "Moss, Merle, and Starr have destroyed more lives than you could ever imagine. Stop being so blinkered, start seeing what is really going on, and for God's sake don't blow anything else up. Or I'll have you taken out so fast your heads will spin."

I glanced down the corridor to see the guard headed our way again. And he looked even unhappier than he had the last time.

I leaned forward and grabbed my towel, soap, and the handkerchief. "Now, if you don't mind, ladies, I need to complete my shower."

I flung the towel over my shoulder and headed for the shower stall Nerida had originally used. It had a good line of sight via the mirrors, and while I needed to get clean, I wasn't fool enough to turn my back on either of them.

The guard stalked in as I stepped under the water. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Just a little disagreement," Berna muttered. "Nothing to worry about."

"It is when I'm wasting time coming down here to sort it out. You two, back to the rooms now. And you in the shower, hurry up."

Though the heat of the water did a lot to wash the smell of death from my skin, I didn't want to linger too long. That would only piss off the guard more and maybe bring our little scuffle to the attention of those higher up. So I washed and dried and meekly made my way back to my bed.

"No more," the guard said from the doorway, once I was settled, "or I'll report all of you."

I resisted the impulse to snap that we weren't kiddies—mainly because that impression was far better than the real reasons for the fight.

I waited until the guard had gone, then reached my hand under my wet towel and grabbed the handkerchief. "You dropped this earlier," I said, and tossed the scrap of cloth across to Nerida. "Don't do it again."

"Oh, I won't. You can be sure of that."

Meaning next time she would ensure there was no telltale signs were left behind. I blew out a breath and laced my fingers across my belly. After a while, their breathing grew slower—or in Berna's case, noisier—indicating they were slipping into sleep. Whether they actually were, or whether they were foxing, I couldn't say. But I wasn't about to let the desire to sleep overwhelm me, not with Berna's threat hanging over my head.

I Hipped off the sheets and headed out the door.

Voices and the growl of machinery rode the night, and lights now lit the far end of the house. Starr wasn't wasting time getting down to repairs, it seemed.

I headed in the opposite direction, getting as far away from the sounds and the smells as I could. But even deep in the trees, where the moonlight failed to pierce the thick canopy of leaves, the dead were with me.

And they wanted their revenge.