Magic Binds
Page 72

Robert stood a little straighter.
“He means Jim flipped the fuck out.” Raphael stole a piece of bacon off the plate. “You and everyone who separated with you are on the Do Not Talk To list. He can’t forbid you to visit the Keep because it’s against the law, but your access will be severely restricted. And he gagged anyone employed in an official capacity, like Robert here. But unlike Robert, I don’t hold an administrative position outside my clan, so I don’t care what the fuck he thinks.”
Andrea grinned at him. Somebody had earned a whole bunch of awesome husband points.
“He’s thinking with his gut instead of his brain,” Raphael said. “Nobody realized Jezebel was a double agent, so in his mind, if she was one, anybody could be one. His gut reaction is to shut down the flow of information, fortify, and . . .”
“Retaliate,” Curran said, his face grim.
“He can’t retaliate,” I said.
“I can’t answer questions,” Robert said. “But I can listen to advice. He didn’t forbid me to listen.”
“Is there proof that Jezebel acted on Roland’s orders?” Curran asked.
Robert didn’t answer.
“Probably not,” Andrea said. “If there is, that information hasn’t been shared with us.”
“In the absence of proof,” Curran said, “to outsiders this looks like one member of the Pack attacked another. It’s a Pack matter.”
“If Jim retaliated in force against my father, it would mean a declaration of war,” I said. “He and the Pack are within the land I protect. Roland wants war, but he doesn’t want to break the treaty. He will seize any opportunity. Jim’s actions will be viewed as an unprovoked attack.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Curran said, watching Robert. “He’s made up his mind.”
“What would you do if your mate was stabbed in the heart with a silver blade?” Robert asked.
“I would wait until I was absolutely sure that I could destroy my enemy,” Curran said. “I wouldn’t throw my people away. He can’t kill Roland, Robert. He doesn’t have the resources. All he can do is kill some of Roland’s people and a lot of his own. Roland’s forces are disposable. Our people, the Pack, are not.”
“The future is a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
They looked at me.
“We worked so hard not to provoke him and it doesn’t matter in the end,” I said. “The battle will happen. We can’t stop it.”
Curran looked at Robert. “Tell him that after he goes through with it, Roland will retaliate in force. Tell Jim he knows where we live. We’ll be here.”
“Tell him that he is endangering every person in the city limits,” I said.
“Hypothetically speaking,” Robert said, “if the attack happens, and Roland retaliates, what will you do about it?”
“She is a princess of Shinar.” My aunt burst into existence in the middle of the kitchen. “It is by the grace of her mercy you are still breathing.”
Robert stumbled back. Raphael’s hands went to his knives. Andrea bared her teeth, cradling Baby B. You could hear a pin drop.
“I have family in town for the wedding,” I said into the silence. “My aunt, Eahrratim, the Rose of Tigris.”
Curran covered his face with his hand.
“Your pathetic castle is in her domain,” Erra said. “She can level it with a thought. If your Beast Lord picks a fight with my brother, how will you survive without her to shield you?”
“We’ll fight,” Robert said, his body tense, ready to leap and tear.
“And when fire rains from the sky and the earth opens to swallow you, who will you fight then? How much damage will your claws do to a flood? Tell that to your king, half-breed.”
My aunt vanished.
Andrea pivoted to me, her mouth open, and shook her finger at the spot where Erra had stood.
“Long story,” I told her.
“Tell Jim that after he has his fun, we’ll be here,” Curran said to Robert. “Tell him that help is here. All he needs to do is ask.”
Chapter 13
THERE WERE CARS in the parking lot of Cutting Edge.
“We’re agreed?” I asked.
“Fine,” my aunt said into my ear.
“Please do not manifest. Please.”
“I’m not hard of hearing.”
“It scares people,” Curran said. “And we want to keep the element of surprise. If Roland finds out that you’re here, helping Kate, we’ll lose it.”
“He won’t find out unless your people talk,” Erra said. “He can’t feel me unless I want him to. That’s one of the privileges of being dead—and if the two of you don’t shut up, I will let you experience it for yourselves.”
I bumped my forehead against the dashboard.
“I’ll park,” Curran said.
I checked that her dagger was securely in the sheath, exited the car, and walked through the door into the office. All of our desks had been moved aside and put by the wall. Ascanio sat on my desk. He’d called me from Cutting Edge before I left the house asking me if he should let Saiman in. I told him to do it.
A large young woman with a mane of dark curly hair pulled back from her face sat on a chair. She turned when I walked in. Her lips were blue and the traditional ta moko covered her chin. Maori. It didn’t look smooth either. Someone had used a uni chisel instead of modern tattoo needles.
In the center of the now-empty office, a small raised platform stood. Several full-length mirrors waited stacked against the far wall. Saiman turned as I walked in. I had expected him to be back in his neutral shape. He wasn’t. He was six feet tall, gaunt, and frail, leaning on a cane, and the black bodysuit he wore showed off every rib. His face was still that of a frost giant. He’d humanized it enough for people not to stare at him on the streets and that was it. His sunken cheeks made the cheekbones in his face even more prominent. Eyes made of winter ice looked at me from under shaggy eyebrows. Two small night tables and a large wooden chest stood on the floor by him.
“Have you eaten?” I asked.
“Yes. I need you to strip and stand on the platform.”
Everybody wanted to take my clothes off today. I pulled off my boots and began to strip.