And Frank was slick as any politician I had ever seen. He greeted everyone, called a few of them by name, even though he wasn’t from this area. Everything in the little speech he gave was designed to make sure he was appealing to their sense of community, of the shifter version of family values.
Then he said, “And, as I’m sure many of you know, it’s been a long time since we have faced the threat of a lamia invasion in North Texas.”
“You’re not exactly facing one now, either,” someone called out from the audience.
“Bunch of babies don’t exactly count for an invasion,” another shifter said.
I didn’t recognize the voices, and even in the small crowd, I couldn’t tell who’d spoken out—a wave of gratitude swept through me.
Some of these people, at least, were going to stand up for us.
“But isn’t that something you should be able to decide for yourselves?” Frank said from the front of the room. “Shouldn’t we, as free shifters, have the right to determine if a killer lives and works among us?”
From another point in the room, I heard someone mutter, “Hell, yeah.”
Guess they aren’t all my supporters.
“And that,” Frank said, “is why I am calling a national meeting to convene here next week. We will have a full and open discussion of the issues we face.”
“Will that be before or after your werewolves kidnap all the lamia infants?” Kelly called out from nearby, her hands on her hips as she flipped her dark hair over one shoulder.
You go, girl!
If anyone knew how little threat these juvenile lamias posed, it was Kelly, someone who had taken care of them, fed them, held them, bonded with them.
“I heard about the abduction at the hospital yesterday,” Frank said with contentious glee. “It is a terrible, terrible thing to have happened.” He shook his head as if sad. “Please know that my people would never do something so obviously unlawful.”
No word, I noticed, about it being immoral, too.
He kept talking. “But, while we don’t believe in illegal actions, we do believe in a free and open debate about issues just like these facing our communities. We will stand up for your safety, your rights, and your freedoms. We hope you’ll join us at next week’s Council meeting.” As he finished speaking he looked down at his watch, in a way that caught my attention.
Not that someone giving a speech shouldn’t look at his watch—but when he flicked a glance at one of his other men toward the back of the room, all my senses went on high alert.
Something isn’t right here.
My fingers tightened around Kade’s anxiously.
Janice’s phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it, her face going white.
Before I could even begin to move toward her, my own new phone buzzed at me, too. When I looked down at its text, the words swam in front of my eyes for a moment, refusing to resolve themselves into a message that my mind did not want to accept was there.
NICU under attack.
As soon as I could make any sense at all what I saw, I was already pulling Kade out Janice’s door and toward his truck. But Kade had gotten his own message, too, and didn’t need any encouragement.
I could hear Janice inside saying, “We’ll need to cut this short, folks.”
Kelly followed us outside, but I said, “You stay here and help Janice take care of this.”
Kade nodded. “We’ll get everyone over to the hospital as soon as we can, but please tell Janice she needs to stay here and watch Frank and his group. Whatever they’re doing, it’s underhanded as hell.”
By then we were already in the truck, and Kade was starting the engine. As we pulled out onto the street, I began texting everyone in our small army.
“Eduardo tells me he’s got the Shields keeping the NICU on lockdown,” I told Kade.
“Does it seem odd to you at all that Frank and his goons would attempt another abduction so soon after the first?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Depends on what they want. If all they want is a way to get through the Earth-magic portal, then that’s the closest one around,” I said. “They’re almost stuck having to go through the NICU.”
“Yeah,” Kade said. “If they hadn’t gone through once already, I’d almost laugh—it’s one of the most secure areas of the hospital.”
“But they did get one baby through,” I said, my voice turning solemn.
I checked my texts for responses.
“Tomás is meeting us there, as well as Shadow and Jeremiah.” I was amazed at how quickly the people I had access to responded when I needed them.
Between growing up not knowing about any other shifters at all and discovering that my race was feared and hated, it always came as a surprise to realize that I had as many friends and allies as I did.
I sent a tiny thankful prayer up for them.
We hit the hospital entrance at a run, dashing down halls and corridors that had been cleared specifically for us.
When we got to NICU Room Five, though, everything was entirely quiet.
I didn’t know the nurse on duty, but she seemed nice enough—nothing in her appearance, scent, or heat signature suggested that she harbored me or the two new babies any ill will.
“So there wasn’t an attack here?”
My frantic question made her forehead crease. “No. It’s been quiet all day.”
As we reported in that everything was clear, and other teams across the hospital began doing the same, the sense of oddness grew.
“What’s going on here?” Eduardo asked, his brow furrowed as he, too, walked into the NICU a few minutes later.
I circled the magical rift in the world to check it for anything unusual.
Nothing.
Then I circled it again, this time drawing the sparkling energy into myself just enough to send it questing out, searching for what was wrong.
“Oh, no,” I whispered. “No. No.”
“What?” Kade asked. I glanced around the room at all the guards we had here to take care of two infants, to protect them.
Just them.
“Take me back to Janice’s,” I said.
Something flickered in Eduardo’s eyes as he stared at me. I shook my head. “No. Stay. I’ll go check on things there. You make sure everything’s safe here.
“Keep in touch,” Kade said to the Shield. Eduardo nodded.
I sent texts to Janice all the way back.
She never responded.
When we got to back to her house, everything seemed perfectly calm from the outside.
I almost breathed out a sigh of relief. Most of the cars were gone, as if everyone who had still been there when we left had departed peacefully.
That illusion lasted until I got halfway up the path to the front door.
Even in my human form, I could smell blood all the way out here.
But I had to see it for myself.
Kade grabbed my arm as I reach for the door—but he knew better than to try to stop me from going inside. “Stay with me. Don’t touch anything. Don’t track anything.”
I knew he meant don’t track blood anywhere.
But I couldn’t think it.
I couldn’t think anything.
Right inside the entryway was clear, and for half a heartbeat I allowed myself to believe that maybe everything would be okay.