"I'm good. Chappell, though? Not so much." She sighed, pulling back. "Sorry, guys, but he turned and pulled a gun. I returned fire and shot him in the stomach. He's bleeding out in the master bedroom, and he's not gonna make it. If Nick wants to question him, he'd better get back there."
"Shit," Nick spat. Then he glanced at Rowan, shaking his head. "Not your fault, though. I just wish we could've brought him in. Kalen, Hammer, Ryon, watch the witch. The rest of you can come with me."
They trooped to the bedroom. Aric was as curious as the rest of them to get an in-person look at the man who'd caused so much grief to so many shifter and human families. But when they walked in and saw him sprawled on the floor, clutching his stomach and bleeding out onto the carpet, he simply looked like a pathetic old man.
His complexion was papery as he turned to squint at them, panting hard. What he said next shocked everyone.
"I'm glad you caught me," he rasped. "I'm glad it's over."
His pale blue eyes were clear of malice, his words sincere. Aric had heard somewhere that the dead didn't lie, and he thought it might be true in Chappell's case. Jax crouched next to the older man, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Then he closed his eyes, and Aric knew the RetroCog was grabbing the threads of Chappell's past. Gathering the visions that would lead to the truth.
Finally Jax opened his eyes and gazed at Chappell. "You were a good man, and you did great things at NewLife, helping families through organ transplant techniques and medical research. You helped thousands."
"Yes. And then the demon came."
"Malik?" Nick asked, his expression intense.
Chappell nodded. "I never knew such evil truly existed." The old man coughed, and blood bubbled to his lips. "But then he came, and I was lost. He takes what he wants by bending you to his will. He's a seducer, the bastard, and he takes pleasure in the twisting of a soul. In making you enjoy it."
The old man was fading fast. Nick spoke quickly.
"Chappell, tell us how to identify Malik-what does he look like?"
The man gave a laugh that rattled in his chest. "He can be anything, or anyone. But I've seen his true self..."
Aric doubted that very much. Sariel had passed along to Nick and the team the description of Malik he'd given to Rowan-that the Unseelie was ugly as sin with horns growing out of his head. Nick was only trying to discern what form Malik had used with the old man.
"Is he ugly," Nick pressed, "like those beasts he uses as his henchmen?"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no, he's as darkly beautiful as Satan himself... black hair and eyes like polished onyx. Huge black wings with blue-black feathers, not leathery ones like those pets of his. Not going to find him like that, though. He can't walk down the street like... like that."
Nick cursed. "Then we're right back where we started-without one clue what he really looks like."
"I'm betting Sariel's description is the correct one," Aric said. "He would know better than anybody."
"True." Nick looked back to the old man. "Mr. Chappell, can you tell us what identity he's using to pass among humans? What's his name?"
"He's a millionaire," the man gasped with difficulty. "Goes by Evan... Kerrigan."
Nick sighed, relief etched on his face. "Thank you. Because of your help, we have a place to start the search."
Zan, who'd been silent, crouched at the old man's other side. "Mr. Chappell, I can heal you. Let me-"
"No, boy." The man refused the offer quietly. "I've hurt too many."
Zan was not one to easily accept letting a man die. Especially one who'd been innocent, and then controlled against his will. "You were lured into Malik's horrible project, your mind taken hostage just like those being experimented on. He used you like a puppet, and you had no say. You deserve a second chance, and we'll keep you safe. Please, before it's too late."
"Son, it was too late for me when the first person died under one of my own fucking knives. Just promise me you'll get him," he whispered, his eyes meeting Nick's.
"You have my word," Nick said grimly. "One day we'll destroy Malik and use his entrails as Christmas tinsel."
"Good enough. Forgive me..." The old man's eyes drifted closed. As they watched, he let out a sigh and then breathed no more.
For a moment, no one moved. Aric's throat was tight. That sure hadn't turned out at all like they'd thought. Chappell had been a great man fallen to a demon, and his death had set him free. It was a sobering, eye-opening few minutes.
"I'll call Grant," Nick said at last. "Have him send a cleanup crew and retrieve Chappell's body. He'll spin a story for the man's family and the press."
"Sweep it under the rug," Zan snapped. "He's mighty fucking good at that."
"Yeah, he is." Nick rose, his face weary. "Let's go."
In the living room, Kalen and the others still stood watch over Beryl, who glared icy daggers at them all. Aric shivered despite the heat lapping at his body again. She'd kill every last Pack member if she got loose, or die trying.
Apparently, Kalen's binding spell had worked on her venomous mouth, too, for which Aric was grateful. Keeping a wary eye on her just the same, he walked over to Kalen and then gave his attention to the spot where she'd pressed her finger. The Sorcerer must've already wiped off the blood.
"What was that she said to you, when she touched your forehead?" Aric asked, cocking his head. He wasn't the only one who wanted to know. Their brothers paused in shuffling around the room to hear the answer.
"Abyssus abyssum invocat," he said quietly. "It's Latin for 'hell calls hell.'"
Ryon frowned. "That doesn't sound good. What does it mean?"
"It means when Malik calls, he'll expect me to answer. And if I refuse, there will be hell to pay."
Chapter Fourteen
The morning Rowan was scheduled to depart for L.A., Nick called her into his office.
He rose to greet her and then gestured to the chair she'd occupied... was it only a week ago? The very place where she'd sat and listened to the most astounding things coming out of his sexy mouth and hadn't believed an asinine word. Until she'd witnessed it for herself, again and again.
When they were situated, he got right to the point. "I wanted to give you this," he said. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a heavy object and slid it across the surface to her. "I should've let you use it during our shootout at the OK Corral."
"My gun." She smiled. "I figured maybe you planned to keep it."
"Nah. I actually meant to return it before now."
"Thanks." She gave him a thoughtful look. "Somehow I don't think getting my weapon back is the only reason I'm here. You could've just passed it to one of the guys if that's all you wanted."
As always, his smile transformed his hardened countenance into a breathtaking one. "I'd say you didn't need to be a psychic to know that."
She laughed, delighted that he had recalled their sparring that day and tossed her words back at her. "Touche. So, what gives, O Great One?"
"You're the only one I'd let get away with calling me that," he said, only half teasing.
"Why did you?"
"Damned if I know. Anyway, I have something sort of serious to discuss."
"Sounds ominous."
"Not really, unless you count battling nasty supernatural creatures as ominous," he quipped.
"I'm not following."
Leaning back in his rolling chair, he tapped a pen on his desk top. "I want you to think about joining the Alpha Pack team when you return."
After that bombshell, she gaped at him, trying to assimilate what he'd said. "You want me on the team? Are you serious?"
"I don't make offers like that lightly. So, yes, I do."
"But you don't have any women in the ranks, as Hammer pointed out before. How will the guys feel about that?"
"What is this, the Dark Ages? And don't forget, you've already proven yourself in battle, twice. The team would be lucky to have you."
"I-I don't know what to say."
"That's a first."
"Har-har."
"Just tell me you'll give it serious thought."
The import of his offer slowly seeped in, and she nodded. "I will. No matter what I decide, I'm truly honored that you'd ask. How soon do you want an answer?"
"It's an open-ended offer, but maybe you shouldn't take too long."
A sense of dread skittered in, like a spider under the bed. "Why's that?"
"Just listen to what this tells you." He placed a fist over his heart, gave his chest a tap, and laid his arm on the desk again.
"So, you're saying there's a reason I should take the job? Is that what you're saying?"
"I can't interfere with your decision, you know that. All I can do is present the options. You have to follow your heart's desire. No one can do it for you."
"And what if that's in L.A.?"
"Then it is." His eyes gave away nothing.
She sighed. "I'll think about it. I promise."
"That's all I can ask." He stood, signaling the end of their meeting. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a business card and handed it over. "Call me anytime, day or night."
She studied it, saw that it read only NICK WESTFALL and listed his cell phone number. Nothing more. "Thank you." Taking the card and her weapon, she tucked both into her purse and rose, slinging the strap over her shoulder. "I appreciate all you and everyone else are doing to help Micah recover."
"We'll get him there. It'll just take time."
"I know." She took her leave before this got any harder. "So long, for now."
"I'll see you."
She let herself out and walked to her room to collect her duffel bag, which was already packed and waiting on the bed. How had this place come to seem like home in such a short amount of time? How had the people here come to mean so much?
Especially one man in particular.
In her borrowed quarters, she walked to the bedroom. Every fiber of her being ached at the thought of driving away, leaving him behind. She'd never felt this way, like her guts were being twisted in a giant fist. Like for the first time in her life, she was about to royally fuck up perhaps beyond her ability to repair.
Why should she be tormented over saying good-bye to a casual fling?
Because you know he's more than that, and you're scared. Everyone you've ever cared about has disappeared-Mama, Papa. Even Micah. Yes, he was found alive. But he still left you behind years ago to follow his own dream. You've had no one but yourself to rely on for so long, you don't remember what it's like to just let go. To love without fear.
"Do I love him?"
She thought of how he'd made love to her last, with such tenderness. As though she was priceless to him and he wanted to hold her forever. He'd been hot to the touch, too, more so than ever, and she was worried about him. The idea of anything bad happening to Aric filled her with sick dread.
She longed to stay, keep him safe from harm. Hold him when he was ill, when he was happy. Make him smile, even hear him bitch when he was in a pissy mood.
Was that love?
She blinked several times, realized she'd been staring at her duffel for a minute or two. That wasn't a question she could answer now, when she had a dozen details to settle regarding her life in L.A.
You're running.