Magic Tides (Kate Daniels: Wilmington Years #1)(29)

“She also let slip that there might be a bit of trouble here tonight. Unsavory types invading your home. Some of the same cowards who stole Thomas’ lad.”

His Irish accent was getting thicker. He was plotting something.

“An honest man and his family attacked by brigands,” Keelan declared. “Well, we couldn’t just stand by and let that kind of thing happen. Could we?”

A chorus of noes answered from the other shapeshifters.

“The Wilmington Pack promised the Consort we’d deliver him here safely, and now we mean to stop here awhile and make sure he stays that way.” Keelan paused. “With your permission, of course.”

The Wilmington Pack, huh. Oh, Jim was just going to love that. This needed to be handled carefully.

I had no authority to give Keelan permission for anything. Especially here in Wilmington. We’d given up all authority when we’d separated from the Pack. Technically, I wasn’t even supposed to be having this conversation.

However, we were a long way from Atlanta, and we could use the extra muscle. Besides, it’d been years since I really gave a fuck what Jim thought about anything. We had been friends once, but that was a long time ago. I’d always known that to Jim only the Pack mattered. It wasn’t enough to be a shapeshifter—you had to have the label, so he could put you on the right side of the line between enemy and ally. The moment we left, we became ignorable at best and a potential threat to his leadership at worst. He’d never admit it, but he wanted us gone. It was simpler that way.

We had fought side by side for so long, I had thought that we saw the Pack in the same way. Now I knew we never had. Water under the bridge. Jim had made his choices, and I’d made mine. And Keelan was clearly making his, because he’d been my-lording me the entire time without any hesitation. For all of his aw shucks and “simple Irishman” pretense, Keelan was sharp.

“Are you here in an official capacity, Keelan?”

The werewolf scoffed. “Perish the thought, my lord. Where is it written that a man can’t visit a dear friend he’s not seen in far too long? Besides, the Consort mentioned you were fixing up this old ruin and told me I should see it for myself.”

The Consort and I were going to have a little chat when she got back.

“At night? And with six of your pack in tow? You reckon Jim or Desandra would see it that way?”

“What better time? Besides, we both know I’ve always been a bit of a Pack floutlaw.”

And now he was making words up.

“It’s that very same poor attitude that got me shipped up here,” Keelan continued. “The advantage is that I can now go weeks or even months without giving much thought to what Jim or the Wolf Queen fancy.”

I knew the feeling. And I quite enjoyed it.

Keelan flashed his teeth, and a hint of the alpha shone through. “We were neither of us born with a neck meant for bending. They may exile us, but they can’t beat us.”

That Kate and I left the Pack voluntarily or that he was, in fact, the alpha of the pack here in Wilmington seemed unimportant to Keelan. Jim had badly miscalculated. I would’ve made sure Keelan stayed right next to me, where I could keep an eye on him. But Jim and Desandra, those two geniuses, put their heads together and sent him here, on his own, and then they gave him a bunch of promising fighters and potential troublemakers to train. Neither of them had any idea just how much influence Keelan could exert over the Pack. Specifically, over its renders, the cream of the crop when it came to combat.

So I played along. “Banished to this lawless place because we’re too fiercely independent?”

“Just so, my lord. The important thing is that we’re here now. The two of us and everything’s going to be just fine.”

Ha! “In that case, welcome, friend Keelan. Bring your people inside. If any of you happen to be hungry, my son will show you where we keep the food. What we have is yours.”

“I knew you’d understand. And if the home of my host happened to be attacked while we had our tea, well, we’d be honor-bound to defend it. Who could find fault with that?”

I could think of at least a couple of people. But they were far away from this place and the things that would happen here tonight.



Conlan

WHEN THE BAD PEOPLE CAME, they came like a mob, maybe fifty of them, waving torches and weapons. Grandfather would have called them a horde. But they were like a mob from an old monster movie.

It started with a shapeshifter scout. He slunk out of the woods in warrior form, but it was badly put together and clunky. His jaws didn’t fit right, his hind legs were too short, his forelimbs too long, and his pelvis wasn’t tilted properly. He was still moving, when he raised his head and inhaled deeply. Suddenly he skidded to a stop.

“One of yours?” Dad asked Mr. Keelan, who stood next to us on the wall.

“Never laid eyes on him. No rats in my crew.”

His crew was on the wall too, watching Dad with big eyes. Six shapeshifters, three smelled like wolves, two men and a woman; two were jackals, and they looked like brother and sister; and one was a bouda who reminded me a little of my sister. When we had been talking through the fire and she’d gotten upset about something that had happened to me, her face had been calm and light, but her eyes had been hard. The bouda was like that.

It was the seven shapeshifters and Dad to my left and four archers, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Paul, his wife, and her brother, to my right.