She stared up at him, confused. The pain in her belly was intensifying, though the skin was whole and unbroken. “What?”
“Janson infected you. The pain you feel is Merlin’s Curse taking hold.”
These people are crazy. “What are you talking about? Listen to me. I am an FBI agent. Janson murdered my partner…”
“Yes, Janson was a criminal werewolf, and he bit you,” the redhead told her, enunciating carefully, as if she were a little slow. “That means very shortly, you’re going to transform.”
“No.” This wasn’t real. None of it. Because if it was, she’d be dying. “I…”
“Look at him,” Justice snapped, pointing at the bloody decapitated head she’d been trying to ignore. It was obviously a wolf’s -- if the wolf in question was the size of a grizzly bear. “That’s a werewolf. You know it can’t be anything else. He bit you, Helena. Now, one of two things is going to happen. Either you’re going to call on your magic and transform, or the Curse will incinerate you.”
Magic? I don’t have magic. These people are cr…
But there was something there. Rushing closer. Blazing and powerful, roiling like a thunderstorm. Helena could almost smell the lightning. When she closed her eyes, she saw it blazing in the dark, growing brighter and hotter with every moment that passed. “What is that?”
“Ahh,” Maeve said with satisfaction. “She’s feeling it.”
“What you feel is the magic of the Mageverse,” Justice said. “Your magic. You need to draw on it to transform. Like this.” He rose to his feet. Light flared around him, and where he’d stood, a huge black creature towered, looking like the monster that had torn into her stomach.
Helena screamed in absolute panic and convulsed, instinctively trying to scramble away, scanning the room for a weapon. Her Glock lay halfway across the room in a puddle of blood, but it was empty and…
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the werewolf said, in the patient tone of a man trying to reason with an irrational hysteric. “Reach for the magic and shift. Now.”
Acting on pure instinct, Helena grabbed for that great burning sun in the darkness. Its warmth spilled over her. The world caught fire, and she felt her bones burst into flame. She convulsed, fighting it. Screaming. Dying, I’m dying again…
The heat built, burrowing out from bone into muscle, from muscle into skin. When she looked down, her flesh blazed. She screamed, the sound dropping, becoming a howl. Then… the pain simply disappeared. All of it.
Helena sucked in a breath, unable to believe the agony had vanished. Automatically, she looked down at her hands. They were huge, covered in fur, and tipped in two-inch claws. Oh, Jesus, she thought numbly. I’m a monster. Just like Janson.
* * *
Liam’s voice thundered, “Helena, wake the fuck up!”
She snapped awake. Two bright violet stars glowed in the darkness no more than a foot or so away, beside a blazing purple bar. Helena jolted, blinking as she realized she stood at the foot of the bed. Glancing down, she saw she’d shifted to werewolf form. That fucking nightmare.
The stars were Conal’s eyes. He faced her, Darkbane in his hand, violet fire leaping up and down the blade. His lips were drawn back from his teeth, and his eyes were narrowed, face set in a grimace of pain and terror, his body reeking of adrenaline and stress. Judging by the wild look on his face, he had no idea who she was.
“Took you long enough!” Liam snapped. “Shift, Helena!”
But if he jumps me… With a furious mental curse, Helena shifted, praying Conal wasn’t going to take her head off with that sword. She leaped back as he lunged toward her, weapon raised. “Connnnaaaal!”
At the sound of her shout, he jerked to a stop and lowered the sword, frowning. “Helena?”
“Thank you!” Liam yelled, frustration in every word. “Demon winds, I thought you two idiots were going to kill each other before you had the wit to wake up.”
“Shit!” Conal tossed the sword on the bed, then moved to take hold of her shoulders and scan her body anxiously. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, did I hurt you?” At least she didn’t smell blood, thank God.
He glanced down at himself. “I’m fine.” Then, as if he no longer had the strength to stand, he turned and flopped down on the bed. Leaning forward, Conal braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.
Helena staggered over and plopped down beside him. He flinched. She started to bolt off the bed, but his hand snapped out to seize her wrist. His gaze met hers, tortured. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“What the hell happened?”
Conal shook his head. “I was dreaming about today. Woke up to you screaming. There was a werewolf beside the bed, and I thought it had…”
“Jesus.” With a sigh, Helena dropped her head down on his shoulder. “I was dreaming about the day I became a werewolf. What a cluster.”
“At least you woke up,” Liam growled. “I was afraid you’d kill each other first.”
Conal slid an arm around her waist, hesitating. “I’m… afraid it might be best if…” He broke off.
“… I slept in the other room,” she sighed and moved to the bedside table to pick up Liam’s gun belt. She kissed Conal on the cheek on the way out. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
* * *
Helena walked across the hall into the guest room, carrying Liam holstered in his gun belt. She closed the door behind her, fell back against it and bent her head, feeling the cool wood at her back. Her eyes were stinging. Damn it.
“Sex is one thing, but don’t get emotionally involved with him,” Liam said, his tone hard. “I can see where this is going, and I don’t like the destination.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not getting involved with anybody.”
He snorted. “Tell it to someone who hasn’t been with you twenty-four/seven for the past five years.”
Wearily, she straightened away from the door and trudged toward the bed. “I thought you wanted me to get laid.”
“Laid, yes. Heartbroken, no. Helena, Conal’s a player. He’s had more girlfriends than the Magekind has witches.”
“And most of them were skinny, gorgeous and very pale. Not that I usually care, but none of that describes me, so you have nothing to worry about.” Helena dropped the gun belt on the bedside table, within easy reach. With a sigh, she sat on the bed and fell back, arms spread, to stare up at the ceiling. Her body still vibrated with leftover adrenaline, and her eyes ached.
“Your looks are not the issue.” The words rumbled in the dark, an offended growl.
“My looks are definitely the issue. You’ve spent most of the past two centuries in a gun safe. You don’t know this culture.”
“Apparently not, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She sighed and rubbed both hands over her face. “I’m not white, Liam.”
“So what? Conal’s half Sidhe.”
“And I’m all werewolf.”
“So’s the queen of the Sidhe. Didn’t stop King Llyr. Besides, Conal doesn’t seem to care.”