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She stood looking at it for a moment, uncertain what to do. She couldn’t break the sturdy wooden door. The knob was made of solid steel. Her arm blades couldn’t cut through steel.
Pete raised his eyebrows at her in question.
“Your gun is in there,” she whispered.
He shrugged his shoulders, reaching outward with his arms as if to embrace her and four other people. His arms and shoulders lengthened as he did. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth as if to yawn again or howl. Fangs pushed past his lips, velvety red-brown fur flowed over his exposed skin, and wiry whiskers pushed out of his upper lip. His nose stretched forward and darkened to a black, shiny, triangular point on the end of a short muzzle. He gained height and breadth, especially in his shoulders, straining the fabric of his formerly loose, stretchy T-shirt with “Keep Calm. I’m the Doctor” written on the front.
Liliana understood that reference. The television show had been around almost as long as she’d been in America. She’d used her fourth eyes to watch it a few times and found it enjoyable.
Deep, ruddy fur with darker brown markings showed through the slits in his clothing where Liliana’s arm blades sliced through cloth when she freed him. The massive wolf-kin towered over her petite form. Only Pete’s pale blue eyes seemed unaffected by the change. The aggressive scent of canine filled the narrow corridor.
“Sorry,” Pete growled softly and ducked his elongated muzzle, as if his demi-wolf form were somehow offensive. He braced a huge, furry shoulder against the door just above the knob and shoved.
The doorframe splintered around the lock, and the door swung open. The sound of wood cracking echoed in the silent corridor, seeming far louder than it probably was.
Pete froze. He glanced at her.
A quick scan with her fourth eyes showed no one had heard the small noise but them. She shook her head to let him know their enemies were not alerted.
As they slipped into the darkened office, Liliana wished her own abilities leaned more toward strength than vision and agility. Strength like that came in handy.
And it was very attractive.
Liliana tapped the metal on the brass desk lamp to turn it on. She watched the play of light on Pete’s fur-covered muscles as he prowled around the office, making it seem far smaller than when Liliana saw it before. The black stylus with the needle sticking out sat on the desk where Lady Daphne left it after injecting Pete in the neck.
Pete yanked opened the drawer in Lady Daphne’s desk, barely appearing to notice that it was locked. He reclaimed his pistol with the special bullets that were effective against Fae. A very toothy grin showed how pleased he was to have it back. He slipped it into his shoulder holster.
The gun had an extra-large trigger guard, making it accessible to Pete’s enlarged, clawed fingers. Very practical. Liliana wondered if it was the work of a certain flower sprite with a passion for customizing weapons.
Liliana turned the desk lamp off again as they left. She led the way up the stairs she’d descended earlier that day. They climbed all the way past the hotel room floors to the top-floor restaurant. While she waited for the best moment in the basement, she’d searched various possibilities. She’d seen herself and Pete die dozens of ways. Many paths branched from this point, but death lay at the end of each turning. Nearly every death she foresaw would happen in the restaurant at the top of these stairs.
She swallowed as she reached the door where the stairs ended.
Liliana could have stayed home today, could have gone on with her quiet life. She chose to be here in the middle of a widow spider nest where she’d murdered one of their own. She chose again to stay and help Pete save Sergeant Giovanni, knowing the price.
She took a breath and sighed, feeling fear fade. This was her choice—perhaps not to survive, but while she breathed, to truly live. If she died tonight, she would die well. Her parents would be proud of her when she saw them again in the next life.
She looked back at the towering wall of masculine muscle and fur following on her heels. Eyes shimmered inhumanly bright in the reflected light of the glowing red EXIT sign.
She would not die alone. She would have a friend at her side.
There were far worse ways to die.
They stepped out of the stairwell and into the little vestibule with the elevators. Everything seemed quiet and dark. Liliana led the way through the restaurant door and past the seating sign. The scent of old grease and faded spices greeted them.
Stars and the city lights of Raleigh both twinkled through the closed glass French doors leading out to the balcony. That dim light shone on the decorative wrought iron, glass-topped tables. The long shadows on the floor looked like the legs of giant black spiders.
Liliana ghosted between the tables, using every ounce of stealth skill she had.
Behind her, the huge shadow of the red wolf followed, nearly as silent in his big combat boots as she was in her ballet slippers. The man understood stealth.
A small sigh escaped her. So few men of any species understood the essentials of stealth.
Figures that he would already be taken.
Brighter light leaked from the cracks around the double kitchen door, reflecting on the terra-cotta tile floor that had been scrubbed clean and shiny.
As they slipped closer to the kitchen, they heard voices.
