Page 9 of Alice Worth and the Elite Death Machine

“Donotcall it a hickey,” I hissed. “It is not evenremotelya hickey.”

When I opened the basement door, I found Sean already in the kitchen, pouring the last of the coffee into a mug. “That coffee is not fresh,” I warned.

“I don’t have the time or patience to wait for a new pot.” He stuck the mug in the microwave, hit the Start button, and turned to face us. His expression went from grim to a scowl as his gaze moved to my forehead. “Alice, what is that?”

“Told you,” Malcolm said, then dodged my sparking fingers.

“It’ll keep for a minute,” I said. “What did you find out that made you run home?”

“I got an urgent call from Lucas Stone, alpha of the Blue Valley Pack up in Landers. We need to get there ASAP. He has a son, Noah?—”

“The youngfaoladh?” I grabbed my cross-body bag and, after a hesitation, the spelled pouch containing the demon’s nasty blade. “Who’s coming with us?”

“Ben and Jesse. They’ll be here in five minutes.” Sean claimed his coffee mug bare-handed from the microwave. He didn’t bother to blow on it before downing a gulp. “Now, what’s on your forehead, and how did you know about the child?”

I told him the whole story—again, minus the mate part. He studied my forehead and frowned while I stole his mug for a few fortifying sips of reheated coffee. He took my explanation mostly in stride, but when I tried to say the word Conor had used to identify the EDM, he went very, very still.

“Anúlfheðnar?” He pronounced it ulf-HETH-nar. “Is that what he said?”

“I think so.” I frowned. “What is that?”

But Sean already had his phone out, his expression grave. He sent a one-word text to a number with no name listed, and another message to Ben Cooper, urging him to get here faster.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Malcolm said. “What’s anúlfheðnar?”

The tension in Sean’s shoulders made my own ache. “Do you remember when I said thefaoladhare just about the most dangerous shifters in existence?” he asked.

Uh-oh. “Let me guess,” I said. “We just found out what kind of shifter is worse?”

“And there’s demons working for the Dark Fae in the mix too.” Malcolm flitted. “All converging on this kid Noah up in Landers?”

“Looks to be the case,” Sean said.

“Oh, goody.” Malcolm sighed. “Well, we might as well get in the middle of that.”

Chapter

Four

The urgency of our mission and the grim silence in Sean’s SUV made the two-hour drive north to the small town of Landers feel much, much longer.

It didn’t help that I had to share the ride with three very angry dominant werewolves. Poor Malcolm gave up trying to lighten the mood twenty minutes into the drive and simply floated quietly. Sean had turned on the radio but kept the volume low. I used the time to learn about theúlfheðnaron some websites Sean pointed me to while Malcolm read over my shoulder. Absolutely nothing I read made me happy.

By all accounts, theúlfheðnarandfaoladhwere evenly matched for power, strength, and skill, generally speaking. But instead of protecting the weak, anúlfheðnar’spurpose was to cull them to keep shifter bloodlines strong. I’d had mixed feelings about thefaoladhafter Sean’s insights into their tendency to not care about collateral damage. Theúlfheðnar, on the other hand, seemed very much in the category of “bad guys.” I had no intention of letting this one survive if we did cross its path.

In the same articles, I also got an answer about Conor’s strange physical form. I’d thought what I’d seen of him—a wolf’s head on a human body—was a metaphysical manifestation of his inner self. Instead, I discovered bothúlfheðnarandfaoladhhad a hybrid physical appearance besides fully human and fully wolf: the so-called Lycaon form, which was significantly larger, stronger, and deadlier than their human body. I recalled reading about that a long time ago but had never seen it in person.

Did I mention nothing I read made me happy?

As I muttered expletives, the others seemed occupied by their own thoughts. Our pack’s third, Ben Cooper, sat directly behind me. He worked for Sean as the company’s installation manager. His normally easygoing demeanor turned stony the moment Sean told him what we would likely face. Still, no one had balked at going or even thought twice.

The fourth member of our group, Jesse Hayes, sat behind Sean, but he bristled with so much anger and shifter magic that I half expected him to levitate out of the SUV and fly ahead of us. Jesse and his younger brother Joshua had recently joined our pack, after a lifetime of running from abuse and rejection. Joshua was a rare omega wolf and autistic, making him especially vulnerable. To protect his brother, Jesse had become exceedingly aggressive with a hair-trigger temper, leading to his own set of problems. Since joining our pack, however, both had found a place to belong at last.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Sean chose Jesse for this mission. The very thought of a demon and anúlfheðnar—which I could now pronounce thanks to Sean’s patient coaching—coming to kill a boy believed to be a youngfaoladhhad triggered every single one of Jesse’s protective instincts as if these were threats to his own brother.

I had never met Lucas Stone or any of the Blue Valley Pack in person—at least, not while I was conscious. They’d helped Seanwhen a sorcerer’s coven of witches left me for dead on the side of the highway near Landers. One of the pack members, Andrea Vickers, was a nurse and had treated my wounds. I hoped to have the chance to thank her, if we had any time for pleasantries with demons and two kinds of elite death machines closing in.

Conor had said these foes were beyond our ability to fight, but I didn’t believe that. Neither did the others. Even so, the long, heavy silence let me know no one here thought we’d leave the battlefield unscathed.

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