No Werewolves Allowed Read online

  With my voice lowered, I leaned closer to speak in her ear. “They’re just not used to Rodán allowing a norm—or anyone else who’s not a Tracker—in on one of our meetings.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “At least Lulu isn’t here, not to mention the rest of the Soothsayers and whatever other Peacekeepers there are.”

  “Hey, some of the Peacekeepers are okay,” I said. “Like Jeanie and Karen.”

  Olivia shrugged. “Whatever. Most of them think they’re better than Trackers and you know it.”

  She was probably right. It was rare to have Soothsayers, Gatekeepers, and Healers in the chamber with Trackers. I’d always had a feeling it was because they considered us to be like wild animals compared to their snooty, supposed sophistication. Some of them were nice enough, but the majority needed to be taken down several pegs.

  Olivia did a good job of that with Lulu whenever the Soothsayer was the one to freeze one of our paranormal crime scenes. Lulu had a serious Cinderella-of-the-Earth-Otherworld complex.

  All of the Trackers took a seat around the large oval conference table. It was to the right of the room, the table big enough to seat twenty-six. There were eighteen in our group including Olivia, nineteen with Rodán, so there was still room to spare at the table.

  After the deaths of three of our fellow Trackers, seventeen of us remained: Meryl, a Shifter; Kelley, a Doppler; Phyllis, a Were; Tracey, Romanian Fae—a Sânzian? Hades, Shifter; Ice, Shifter; Dave, Werewolf; Fere, Tuatha; Nancy, Pixie; Carlos, Were; Robert, Doppler; Gentry, Shifter; Bronwyn, Nymph; Rich, Were; and of course, Nadia, Lawan, and myself. Olivia made up the eighteenth being at the table and she was the only human.

  Conversation stopped, the room suddenly silent, the air thick and tense.

  I cut my gaze to the doorway, in the direction most Trackers at the table were now looking. Five paranorms that I’d never met walked through the set of doors. Two females and three males.

  Immediately I caught their paranorm smells. One of the females, a petite blond with diamond-bright blue eyes and hair that hung in long corkscrew curls, was obviously a Doppler. It was easy to tell because of her tiger flower perfume, and I also scented her animal form—a squirrel.

  Spices and pepper carried to my nose from the tall, umber-skinned South African Fae, an Abatwa.

  A heavily scarred redheaded male was a Werewolf—he smelled of woodlands and fresh air.

  The scent of amber came from one fine-looking Japanese male Shifter.

  The third male’s scent surprised me. Cool air and shadows. A Shadow Shifter. A cocky, arrogant one by the look on his dark features and the way he stood with his arms across his chest.

  All five were dressed in snug black leather like Trackers, and all well-armed. Swords, daggers, and firearms were a few of their visible weapons.

  Slung across the tall Abatwa’s back was her Fae race’s traditional bow along with a quiver of arrows—the heads of the arrows probably poisonous and lethal.

  The Shadow Shifter carried a medieval-style flail. The thick wooden handle with an iron grip had a chain attached to a spiked iron ball at the end of it. Jeez.

  Ice rose from his chair, his height and bearing intimidating to most beings. The newcomers didn’t look the least bit intimidated, not one of them moving a muscle. By Ice’s scowl, I had a feeling the lack of any kind of response pissed him off.

  “This is a private little jam session we’re having.” Ice’s blue eyes sparked like sun on newly fallen snow and his tone was cutting. He made a motion with his head toward the door, indicating the paranorm strangers should leave the way they’d come in. “Get the hell out.”

  The Abatwa Fae gave a low growl, her muscles flexing. She looked like she was about to draw her bow and pierce Ice between his eyes with one of her arrows. The Shadow Shifter’s gaze had grown darker than nightfall, his hand moving to rest on the handle of his flail.

  Tracey glared at Ice. “Think you could possibly be any more rude?” Her race of Fae, the Sânziene, were known for their gentle sides. However, I’d seen Tracey use her spear with deadly precision when she tracked, and she used it without an ounce of hesitation.

  Olivia muttered, “Ice sure gets a hard-on for antagonizing people.”

  I glanced at her. “Sounds awfully familiar.”

  Olivia glared at me and probably would have shot me with an eraser if she’d had any ammunition on hand. “Kiss my—”

  Rodán seemed to appear out of nowhere, erasing the end of Olivia’s sentence with his presence. Most of the tension in the room faded at once. Our Proctor had that effect on most of the Trackers, Ice excluded, even during the times us Trackers were at each other’s throats. It had to be a talent, a magic Rodán commanded, although he never would tell me. It was yet another mysterious quality about him.

  Seeing Rodán sent warmth through me as it almost always did, and I wanted to smile. Friend, mentor, former lover…he was beyond special to me.

  Rodán was of the Light Elves. Despite the high probability of danger to Light Elves from the resentful Dark Elves, Rodán had braved going belowground to recruit me. He had taken the long path deep into the Drow Realm to meet with me and my father. Rodán was the reason I was in Manhattan, and I’ll always be grateful to him.

  A powerful man, as well as King of the Drow, my father was a difficult male to contend with. He’d started to throw Rodán out at once, not wanting to let me leave the belowground Drow Realm. But I’d insisted on going with Rodán to be a Tracker in New York City. A city my human mother had talked about since I was a youngling.

  It wasn’t easy wearing down the King of the Drow, but then it wasn’t easy arguing with the daughter of the king, either. He’d had to relent—after all, I’d just turned twenty-five, considered an adult in the eyes of the Drow.

  With appreciation, I watched as Rodán moved toward us with lithe Elvin grace. How could any woman not admire his sculpted body, broad shoulders, well-defined abs, carved biceps, muscled thighs and calves…

  His long white-blond hair was swept away from his high cheekbones and over his broad shoulders, and his soft royal blue tunic complemented his golden skin.

  Rodán was easily one of the sexiest, most sensual males I had ever met. To be honest, he was sitting at the number-one spot with no chance of anyone knocking him from that particular throne as far as I was concerned.

  Even Adam couldn’t compete with Rodán, not that I wanted Adam to be even the tiniest bit different. Adam was perfect just the way he was.

  If only I hadn’t lost him.

  Our Proctor moved soundlessly across the polished wood floor until he stood between the five “intruders” and the table where seventeen Trackers and Olivia sat.

  I had a pretty good idea why the five paranorms were here and doubted the males and females were really intruders.

  Rodán’s gaze met each of ours in a slow sweep of his crystal-green eyes before he said, “I would like to introduce you to your new fellow Trackers.”

  THREE

  Ice settled back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his pale features that looked as if they had been chiseled from a block of ice itself. “What, no fucking Metamorphs were available?”

  Tracey sucked in her breath.

  Kelley snickered and I held back a scowl. Did I mention I couldn’t stand Kelley?

  Ice might as well have just called the group a bunch of scum-sucking underworld sloths. Metamorphs had no redeeming qualities. None.

  “Why don’t you find a better use for that big mouth of yours, Ice?” Nadia’s beautiful skin took on a slight tinge of green with a whisper of dangerous music in her Siren’s voice. “I hear one of the toilets is broken in the men’s room.”

  Ice grinned. “I’ll give you something you can use your mouth on, honey.”

  I grabbed Nadia’s forearm and squeezed as she turned a darker shade of green. By the way she clenched her jaw, it was obvious she was doing everything she could to keep from breaking out into
a Siren’s song. At that moment no doubt she would have loved to draw Ice to her and impale him on the end of one of her slim but deadly serpent swords.

  “Enough.” Rodán’s voice was low, but his tone and the dark swirl in his normally crystal-green eyes got his point across.

  Ice still smirked, but everyone else focused on Rodán.

  “The Great Guardian has been training new Trackers for all of the major cities for the past six months,” Rodán said, as if Ice hadn’t been making a jerk of himself.

  An instant burst of heat burned low in the pit of my stomach. To keep from shouting at Rodán, who didn’t deserve my anger, I had to bite my tongue so hard it hurt.

  So the Great Guardian had held back new Trackers. I’d asked over and over why we weren’t given new Trackers to aid us in the battle against Demons. The GG could have sent these Trackers to us when we needed them.

  And Caprice might still be alive.

  I bit my tongue harder. Blood, coppery and warm, flowed over my tongue from where my fangs had pierced it.

  “Stop,” Nadia hissed under her breath and I realized I was digging my fingers into her forearm.

  “Sorry.” I released my grip and tried to calm down enough to hear Rodán through the heated buzz in my ears.

  One glance at the other Trackers around the table told me that most of them were thinking the same thing. The Great Guardian could have helped sooner and three of our fellow Trackers might still be alive.

  Of course no one at the table would dare say anything about the GG aloud. Except for me, when my mouth got ahead of my brain. I hated her riddles and games.

  And Ice—he was probably doomed for Underworld as it was, so what did it matter when he shot off his mouth about her?

  “Introductions now.” Rodán gestured toward the steely faced Abatwa and she stepped forward. “Mandisa, a tribal leader from South Africa.”

  Olivia suddenly looked like she was about to choke on a mango, one of her favorite fruits. “Mandisa is an African name that means sweet,” Olivia said low, and I think only I heard. “If she’s sweet, then I’m Barbie.”

  I coughed to hold back a laugh. Picturing short and very voluptuous Olivia as long-legged slim Barbie was enough to send anyone into hysterics.

  Mandisa stared in our direction and I tried on a welcoming smile, hoping she hadn’t heard after all. She didn’t look amused.

  “Angel.” Rodán smiled at the squirrel Doppler whose black leather exposed more skin than my suit did. Which meant a whole lot of flesh was showing.

  “Angel?” Olivia said under her breath, a laugh in her words. “Figures.”

  With her long blond corkscrew curls, tanned skin, tiny frame, and girlish smile, Angel looked like a petite, bouncy, and very perky human cheerleader like the ones I’d seen on the sidelines during American football games.

  Rah-rah-rah.

  Hades rolled his eyes when Rodán added, “Angel is from Miami Beach.” Hades’s expression changed to surprise when Rodán added, “She graduated from Harvard with a degree in astrophysics. She started her training as a Tracker after an internship in astrobiology with NASA at Goddard Space Flight Center.”

  I saw the glint in Angel’s blue eyes. Oh, yeah, she might not look it, but she was dangerous. A cheerleader with a brain—one who could use the barbed whip at her side to squeeze the breath out of a being while slicing the being up with the barbs without an ounce of remorse.

  All while wearing a neon-orange string bikini.

  “Wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of her whip,” Nadia said close to my ear.

  I managed not to smile. Siren’s song didn’t work on females, but Nadia could handle herself just fine, male or female opponent.

  “Nakano,” Rodán said as the slender but clearly muscular Shifter stepped forward. “From Japan. He is of the elite Ninja warriors.”

  Nakano bowed, but didn’t smile. His samurai sword was secured in a black sheath at his back, the sheath decorated with intricate gold patterns. His black outfit looked like traditional Ninja gear, but when I concentrated, I saw gold Japanese symbols on the hems. Probably a warding of sorts.

  Rodán inclined his head toward the big, scarred auburn-haired Werewolf who was armed not only with a pair of throwing knives at his belt, but a mean-looking Beretta, too. “Max, who left the Bronx pack to join us,” Rodán said.

  Max’s dark brown gaze studied us as he stood with casual male arrogance. Nothing like a roomful of alpha male Trackers, to a one.

  Sheesh.

  “And from Down Under is Joshua.” Rodán indicated the cocky but fine-looking Shadow Shifter. “He was a mechanical engineer before being recruited as a Tracker.”

  “Australian accents are so sexy,” Olivia said loud enough that I lightly punched her arm.

  “Quiet, before Rodán kicks you out,” I said under my breath. “Or I do.”

  “Try it,” Olivia said with a laugh in her whisper.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Olivia flipped me off—like only a best friend could get away with.

  “Find a seat.” Rodán held out his hand toward the table, indicating the newcomers should fit in among us.

  What fun, I thought with a mental grimace. Thanks, Rodán, for making things really uncomfortable by not preparing everyone beforehand.

  Considering the eighteen of us were spread out, the five new Trackers had to separate and each find a seat between other Trackers. Mandisa, the Abatwa, took the chair beside Ice—I was absolutely sure she did it deliberately. I think she was seriously considering taking one of her poisoned arrows and jabbing it into his heart.

  Of course Ice gave her his trademark unrepentant and almost evil grin.

  When everyone was seated, an uncomfortable and tense silence blanketed the room. Most of us looked at Rodán as he took his chair at the head of the oval table. Once he was seated, that left only two empty chairs.

  “Your full attention. Now.” Rodán’s commanding voice had all of our gazes riveted on him at once. Even Ice seemed to involuntarily fixate on Rodán.

  “Three of our new Trackers will rotate and train with every one of you over the next couple of weeks,” Rodán said. “I will designate your assignments shortly.” He paused to look around the table. “There are pressing matters at hand.”

  “Not Demons.” Nadia shuddered, her delicate shoulders shaking. I had to repress a shudder myself at the thought of what we’d all just been through

  “Not Demons,” Rodán repeated her words, only with confidence rather than concern. “At least not that we’re aware of, and not here in the city.”

  “What, then?” Ice leaned back in his chair, an arrogant expression on his face and insolence in his voice. “Pixies?”

  Olivia snickered under her breath.

  Nancy, a Pixie, glared at Ice.

  Rodán fixed his stare on Ice, indicating with his gaze that Ice was way out of line. Of course Ice didn’t even flinch.

  Our Proctor turned his attention back to the group, meeting each of our gazes, one at a time as he spoke. “The Manhattan Werewolf pack needs assistance.” He gestured to Olivia and me. “Nyx’s PI agency will be on the case. Nyx and her partner, Olivia, will need backup.”

  Ice smirked. “Why do a bunch of Werewolves need babysitting?”

  Personally, I thought Ice could use a fist to the face. Might just be mine if he kept up the routine he’d been doing all night.

  “What’s stuck up your ass, Ice?” David said with irritation in his voice.

  “Not your dick, that’s for sure,” Ice said, and David gave a low growl that only a Werewolf could do in human form.

  Rodán chose to ignore Ice and the exchange. Instead, he started providing the details I’d given him earlier, about the Werewolves vanishing, then turning up mutilated and dead, as well as the still-missing children.

  The room grew quieter, the tension thicker. Ice’s expression darkened as he listened and I could see in his eyes the focus that made him an excell
ent Tracker. “Where?” he asked, his tone even. “Not Manhattan.”

  “The Catskills.” Rodán folded his hands on the table. “Unfortunately, the events are keeping the Weres too close to civilization and they refuse to move on until their pups are found. The next full moon is within days.”

  Fere whistled through his teeth.

  “This better be dealt with before then.” David shook his head. He should know. Being a Werewolf, he had to take to the mountains during the full moon, as far away from norms and other paranorms as possible.

  Palpable energy stretched around the table as if each of us was ready to stand up and fight something. Anything.

  “Nyx and Olivia are leaving in the morning,” Rodán said. “I want three of you to accompany them.”

  Shock rippled through me and I felt it mirrored in Olivia. Why was he doing this? Olivia and I always worked alone. Always. Well, there had been T hanging around—doing things like saving my life—during our battle with the Demons, but I was so not going there.

  In answer to my unspoken question, Rodán said, “Olivia and Nyx will need backup considering the danger involved. An unseen enemy with no scent is far more dangerous than anything we’ve dealt with before.”

  “Except Demons,” Nadia muttered.

  “Maybe more so than Demons,” Rodán said even though Nadia had spoken so low it should have been impossible to hear. But Rodán was Elvin and, like me as one of the Dark Elves, his acute hearing gave him an advantage that most others didn’t have. “A threat one can’t see or smell, and doesn’t leave signs of any kind, makes it difficult to determine how to fight it, or even find it.”

  Nadia gave a slow nod. “I guess you’re right. At least with the Demons we knew what we were facing.”

  “For the most part,” I said. There had been a lot of unknowns, puzzle pieces Olivia and I had to fit together before a virtual Armageddon could have been unleashed.

  “Nyx,” Rodán said. “Along with Olivia, you will take two of the new Trackers, Angel and Joshua.” He kept his eyes fixed on me. “Ice will also join you.”