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“I know who Roland is,” Robert said.
“Good, then this will be easier. Roland wants to rule. He is five thousand years old, he possesses godlike magic power, and he doesn’t believe the word ‘no’ applies to him. Hugh is his warlord. Think of him as a huge unstoppable wrecking ball. Where Roland points, Hugh smashes. Right now Roland is pointing at the Pack. He has fought shapeshifters in the past and they kicked his ass, so he wants to nip you in the bud. Hugh is here to smash you. Would you like to know exactly what Hugh thinks of you? He thinks you’re dogs.”
Robert bared his teeth.
“If he can’t make you sit, he has no use for you. He will put you down—child, elderly, pregnant, doesn’t matter—and treat himself to an extra beer at dinner to celebrate a job well done. He can’t be bribed, he can’t be reasoned with, and he is damn near impossible to kill. Curran broke his back and threw him into a fire that had melted solid stone. But here he is.”
I paused to grab a breath. “Hugh and I were trained by the same person. I’m better than he is. In a one-on-one fight, I’ll kill him and he knows it. He wants me, my sword, and my magic. While we were at the Black Sea, he showed me a room full of shapeshifters and told me he would slaughter every single one of them for a chance to have dinner with me.”
Desandra shrugged. “That’s kind of hot. In a sick way.”
I ignored her. “Jim, who saddled me with a squad of bodyguards to go to the Conclave, didn’t put up much of a fight when I decided to go off on this fun adventure. He knows that when I became Curran’s mate, I promised to put myself between the Pack and Hugh. He expects me to do my job. I’m here doing it. I’m your best defense. So if we come across him and Hugh takes me down, you need to run.”
The two of them looked at me.
“I mean it. If I’m out of the picture, you need to go and you’ll need to drag Derek and Ascanio out of there, because they won’t leave me. Do not stay. Do not fight. Just grab the two kids and go. That’s as much information as I’m going to share with you. I have to stop this war from happening. Let me do my job and if you would like to be upset about how I went about it, you can address your grievances to my grave or to me in person at the next Council. Until then, I don’t want to deal with any more politics. It’s making my job more difficult and it’s hard enough as is. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Alpha,” Desandra said.
“Very well. I will—” Robert stopped and wrinkled his nose. Desandra inhaled sharply. Something clearly didn’t smell right.
I glanced back. Ascanio and Derek sped up, closing in. Robert had a look of intense concentration on his face. I felt it too, that alarming feeling of something behind you watching closely, waiting for you to stumble so it can leap on your back and sink its sharp, cold teeth into the nape of your neck. I could feel the gaze on my back and I knew if I turned around, I’d see nothing, just the shadows between the glass cliffs. But something watched me. Something was there.
Derek fell in next to me and turned around. I followed his gaze. Four eyes ignited in the shadows, one pair right inside the other, bright, electric turquoise about four feet off the ground. The eyes shone once and vanished behind the slanted glass iceberg.
We slowed down to a walk, falling into formation: Derek and I in front, Robert and Ascanio on the sides, and Desandra guarding the rear. If you ran, predators would chase. We wouldn’t be running.
Another set of four eyes flashed at us from the left, reflecting in the glass for half a second before melting into nothing.
“They’re herding us,” Desandra said.
Ahead three sets of twin pairs of eyes materialized from the gloom. They were trying to make us turn right. I pulled Slayer from the sheath.
Three squat, wide-chested shapes congealed from the gloom and moved into the light, step by step. About the size of a small calf, they stood on six muscled limbs. Their limbs ended in handlike paws with agile fingers, each tipped by a short curved claw. Pale hide sheathed their bodies, except for their spine and chest, where bony plates formed a protective carapace. Their jaws were massive, their teeth sharp, and they looked at the world with four eyes, nestled in two rows on their heads.
“I fought these before with Andrea,” Ascanio reported. “These are just pups. Their mother was huge.”
Awesome. “Can any of you see the tails? Are they segmented like that of a scorpion?” Six legs was a dead giveaway. Not that many creatures had six limbs, but I wanted to be sure.
“Yes,” Robert confirmed from the side.
“It’s a tarasque. It comes from the south of France, grows to an enormous size, and it’s supposed to breathe fire.”
Also according to the legends, a tarasque was a dragon. These guys looked more like cats who’d somehow sprouted rhino-like armor, but who was I to complain?
“How did the French kill it?” Derek asked.
“They sent a Christian virgin out, and she bound it with her hair and led it back into the city, where the citizens slaughtered it. We don’t have a virgin handy.”
“No shit,” Desandra said.
The central monster bared her teeth. They were thick, sharp, and crooked.
“Quick, Derek, it’s your chance to shine,” Ascanio said.
Derek gave him a withering look.
“Desandra is a mother, Robert is married, Kate’s affianced, and I’m an old soul. You’re the closest thing to a virgin we’ve got. Get on with growing some flowing locks.”
Robert laughed. The sound was so unexpected, I almost jumped. In all the time I’d interacted with him, a careful smile was as far as he got.
“I’m going to hurt you after this,” Derek promised.
Ascanio grinned. “Hey, I just assumed you were saving yourself for marriage, my mistake.”
Robert pulled two sets of steel knuckles from the inside of his suit. A long curved blade ran the length of the knuckles. Nice. On my right, Ascanio tossed his hair back and retrieved a short sword from his leather jacket. The blade was fifteen inches long and at least two and a half inches wide, single-edge, with a profile that looked almost like an overgrown kitchen knife but with a simple, saber-style cross guard. Ascanio reached for the hilt with his left hand and plucked another sword from the first. Baat Jaam Do. Butterfly swords. Handling two swords took a lot of practice. Well. Interesting.
Three tarasques emerged from the left, two from the right.
