Название: A Fistful of Charms
Автор: Ким Харрисон
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Героическая фантастика
isbn: 9780007301843
isbn:
I nodded, wiping my palms off on my jeans. Plaster dust clung to me, and I only made things worse. I never took my eyes from him, knowing it was a blatant show of dominance. I had dealt a little with Weres, and none of them but David seemed to like me. I didn’t know why.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, coming closer and pulling a pair of metal-rimmed glasses from an inner pocket of his suit coat. “I’m David’s boss. You can call me Mr. Finley.”
Perching the glasses on his narrow nose, he took the stapled papers that Karen smugly handed him. “Forgive me if I’m a little slow,” he said, peering at them. “My secretary usually does this.” He looked over the papers at me, pen clicking open. “Your pack number is what?”
“Huh?” I said intelligently, then stiffened as the ring of Weres seemed to close in. Karen snickered, and my face warmed.
Mr. Finley’s slight wrinkles bunched as he frowned. “You’re David’s alpha. Karen is challenging you for your place. There is paperwork. What is your pack number?”
My mouth dropped open. This wasn’t about the Rays or the Howlers. I was the sole member of David’s pack, yeah. But it was just a paper relationship, one designed so I could get my overly inflated insurance cheap, cheap, cheap, and David could keep his job and buck the system to continue working alone and without a partner. He didn’t want a real pack, being a confirmed loner and good at it, but it was nearly impossible to fire an alpha, which was why he had asked me to start a pack with him.
My gaze darted to Karen, smiling like the queen of the Nile, as dark and exotic as an Egyptian whore. She wanted to challenge me for my position?
“Oh, hell no!” I said, and Karen snorted, thinking I was afraid. “I’m not fighting her! David doesn’t want a real pack!”
“Obviously,” Karen scorned. “I claim ascension. Before eight packs, I claim it.”
There weren’t eight alphas there anymore, but I thought the five that were left were more than enough to force the issue.
Mr. Finley let the hand holding the sheet of papers fall. “Does anyone have a catalog? She doesn’t know her pack number.”
“I do,” sang out a woman, swinging her purse around and digging to bring out what looked like a small address book. “New edition,” she added, and thumbed it open.
“This is nothing personal,” Mr. Finley said. “Your alpha has become the topic of interest at the water cooler, and this is the simplest way to get David back on track and end the disturbing rumors that have been reaching me. I have invited the principal shareholders in the company as witnesses.” He smiled without warmth. “This will be legally binding.”
“This is crap!” I said nastily, and the surrounding Weres either chuckled or gasped at my temerity to swear at him. Lips pressed tight, I glanced at my bag and the splat gun halfway across the room. My hand touched the small of my back, looking for my nonexistent cuffs, long gone with my I.S. paycheck. God, I missed my cuffs.
“Here it is,” the woman said, her head lowered. “Rachel Morgan. O-C(H) 93AF.”
“You registered in Cincinnati?” David’s boss asked idly, writing it down. Folding the pages over, he fixed on my eyes. “David isn’t the first to start a pack with someone not of, ah, Were descent,” he finally said. “But he is the first in this company to do so with the sole intent to save his job. This is not a good trend.”
“Challenger’s choice,” Karen said, reaching for the tie to her dress. “I choose to Were first.”
David’s boss clicked the pen shut. “Then let’s get started.”
Someone grabbed my arms, and I froze for three heartbeats. Challenger’s choice, my grandmother’s ass. I had five minutes to subdue her while she Wered, or I was going to lose this.
I silently twisted, going down and rolling. There were several shouts when I knocked the feet out from whoever held me. Then my breath was crushed out of my lungs as someone else fell on me. Adrenaline surged painfully. Someone pinned my legs. Another pushed my head into the plaster-dust-covered plywood.
They won’t kill me, I told myself as I spit the hair out of my mouth and tried to get a decent breath. This is some asinine Were dominance thing, and they won’t kill me.
That’s what I was telling myself, but it was hard to convince my trembling muscles.
A low snarl far deeper than it ought to have been rumbled thorough the empty top floor, and the three men holding me let me up.
What in hell? I thought as I scrambled to my feet, then stared. Karen had Wered. She had Wered in thirty seconds flat!
“How…” I stammered, not believing it.
Karen made one hell of a wolf. As a person she was petite, maybe 110 pounds. But turn that same 110 pounds into snarling animal, and you get a wolf the size of a pony. Damn.
A steady growl of discontent came from her, lips curling from her muzzle in a warning older than dirt. Silky fur reminiscent of her black hair covered her except for her ears, which were rimmed in white. Beyond the circle were her clothes, discarded into a pile on the plywood floor. The faces ringing me were solemn. It wasn’t a street brawl but a serious affair that would be as binding as a legal document.
Around me, the Weres were backing up, enlarging the circle. Double damn.
Mr. Finley smiled knowingly at me, and my gaze darted from him to the surrounding alphas in their nice clothes and five-hundred-dollar shoes. My heart hammered, and I figured it out. I was in deep shit. They had bound themselves into a round.
Frightened, I eased into a fighting stance. When Weres bound themselves together outside their usual packs, weird stuff happened. I’d seen this once before at a Howlers’ game when several alphas had united to support an injured player, taking on the player’s pain so he could go on to win the game. Illegal, but wickedly hard to prove since picking out the alphas responsible in a huge stadium was next to impossible. The effect was temporary since Weres, especially alphas, couldn’t seem to work under anyone’s direction for long. But they would be able to hold it together long enough for Karen to hurt me really, really bad.
I settled my feet more firmly in their boots, feeling my fists begin to sweat. This wasn’t fair, damn it! They took my magic away, so the only thing I could do would be to try to beat her off, but she wasn’t going to feel a thing! I was toast. I was dog chow. I was going to be really sore in the morning. But I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
Karen’s ears went back. It was the only warning I got.
Instinct overpowered training, and I backpedaled as she lunged. Teeth snapping where my face would have been, we went down, her paws on my chest. The floor slammed into me, and I grunted. Hot dog breath hit my face, and I kneed her, trying to knock her breath away. There was a startled yip, and dull claws raked my side as she scrambled up and back.
I stayed down, rolling to my knees so she couldn’t push me over again. Not waiting, she jumped.
I СКАЧАТЬ