Page 125 of Junk Magic

“Yeah, well there’s a lot of that going around. And there’s going to be more if I don’t deal with it.”

There was a good chance that it was already too late for at least part of that, as I’d been out of things for most of the day, swimming in a sea of colors and lights courtesy of Jenkins’ brew. It hadn’t been like the first time, or at least not quite as psychedelic, but I’d felt floaty and very strange and so exhausted that I could barely lift my head. I didn’t even remember most of the flight back to Wolf’s Head, where I’d woken up around five in the surprisingly comfortable home that Sienna had managed to make for herself and her boy.

I’d almost immediately started trying to contact Caleb, but that had been a challenge since he hadn’t been answering his phone and I couldn’t risk identifying myself. Corpsmen had already been by Sienna’s, asking for me, so I knew about the warrant before he spilled the beans. And if they were checking with everyone at Wolf’s Head, taking time out of the investigation that Sebastian had surprisingly allowed to go door to door, they meant business.

But so did I, and I didn’t have time to debate this.

“You can’t handle the Were side of things,” I said. “Nobody in the Corps can. While I can’t get near that facility again without getting taken down like a dog. But you can check it out and let me know—”

He hung up. That was not particularly surprising, as that was how about half of our conversations ended. I sighed and gave the phone back to Sienna, who was sitting beside her cousin on the other side of the limo and looking concerned.

“He’ll deal with it,” I assured her.

“I’m glad you’re so certain,” she said grimly. “But that still leaves your old clan—”

“What about her clan?” Laura asked, fussing with her gown.

Sienna’s somewhat fluffy cousin was wearing a gorgeous gold evening gown covered all over in curling silver feather designs. They were huge and in-your-face, like her bosom, which was strapped high and shown off by a plunging neckline. But it matched the piled high dark hair and silver feathers in her ears, and the teetering silver heels just peeking out of the hemline.

The whole look was over the top, but people dressed up for the opening of a new Great Council, which was usually the centerpiece of the Were social calendar. The business part of things didn't start for a couple days, but the showing off was well underway. And it was considered that leaders were embarrassing their clans if they weren’t sufficiently blinged out.

It was one reason I was wearing a plush outfit that I’d borrowed from Sienna, who had agreed to let me join her entourage. The chiffon looked like a desert sunset, with orange, red and purple hues mixed into the delicate layers around the hem. The rest was a plain column of sand-colored silk running all the way up to a loose-fitting drape over the head.

It wasn’t quite a hood, but if the wind was blowing right, it could be used to obscure the face—and the fact that I wasn’t Sienna’s Second, a formidable old battle axe who had been happy to stay behind with her feet up allowing me to take her place.

Not that I figured prominently enough in Were high society to be easily recognized. My name was known, but my face shouldn’t be to many people. But I wasn’t taking chances.

“Lobizon has declared her vargulf and put a price on her head,” Sienna informed her cousin shortly. “I know what you’re trying to do, Lia, but I really think—”

“What? But they’re not even your clan anymore!” Laura said, looking outraged. “If they have a problem with you, they can take it up with Arnou! How dare they—”

“They claim that she was never eligible to join Arnou,” Sienna said, meeting my eyes. “And therefore, remains under their jurisdiction.”

“Not eligible? That’s preposterous! What are they talking about?”

Sienna didn’t answer, leaving it up to me. It was my secret, only it wasn’t a secret any longer. After I passed out in the arena, Farkas, Whirlwind’s eagle-eyed Second, had noticed something. The famous rogue, Lia de Croissets, who had refused the bite for years despite the status and wealth it would have conferred on her, had one—on her leg.

The wound I’d taken at the grow farm had been revealed by my shrapnel-shredded jeans, along with the fact that it wasn’t fresh. He could tell that it was at least a day old, and while that wouldn’t always be time for a Change to take place, under that kind of stress, with blood all around and my very life on the line . . . well. It had made him curious.

Before Jenkins had shown up to claim his new guinea pig, then, Farkas had taken a blood sample. Nothing scientific, just a smear on a handkerchief, but it was enough. The test had come back positive for Neuri and now Clan Rand was trumpeting it to all concerned as a way to further blacken Sebastian’s name.

And it would. The charges against him were adding up: allowing an entire clan to be butchered, allowing Wolf’s Head to be attacked, and having no idea where these Were-like monsters were who were terrorizing the community came from. The fact that the butchered clan had been butchers themselves—of other Weres—as well as a bunch of drug sellers was irrelevant. Like the fact that he’d fought for his people at Wolf’s Head, and that no one else had any more ideas about the Relic threat than he did. All that mattered was that it had happened on his watch.

And now the Were community learned that he had also adopted a rogue into his clan, knowing that she had Neuri. Or that he’d been too careless to have her tested first to find out. Things were looking grim for Sebastian’s chances of remaining bardric for much longer, or of me remaining anything.

Because Lobizon was on the prowl, hunting me to remove the stain from their house, and to avenge those who had died trying to turn someone who knew that she never could. The Corps might shoot me on sight, but Lobizon would do far worse. And they were sure to be there today.

“If anyone accuses you, I put you under a compulsion,” I told Sienna, as we joined a long line of cars inching toward our destination. “I forced you to help me.”

“That sort of thing doesn’t work on our kind,” she said levelly.

Sienna was taking a risk helping me, and she knew it. It was in the darkness in her eyes, and the faint line on her forehead. She wanted to do the right thing, but she also had her clan to think about.

And she was all they had.

“Doesn’t usually work,” I said. “But I’m a rogue vargulf mage with Neuri Syndrome—”

Laura gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand.

---