Magic Strikes(6)

CHAPTER 2



I MADE IT BY 3:00 A.M.

Saiman occupied a suite on the fifteenth floor of the only high-rise still standing in Buckhead.

Magic hated tall buildings-magic hated anything large and technologically complex, period-and

gnawed them down to nubs of concrete and steelwork only four to five stories high. They jutted

sadly here and there along Midtown, like decrepit obelisks of some long-forgotten civilization.

Formerly Lenox Pointe and now Champion Heights, Saiman's building, which had been

remodeled more times than I could count, was shielded by a complex spell, which tricked the magic

into thinking the high-rise was a giant rock. During the magic waves, parts of the high-rise looked

like a granite crag. During the flare, parts of it were a granite crag. But today, with the magic down,

it looked like a high-rise.

I had taken Betsi, my gasoline-guzzling Subaru, to save time. The magic had just fallen, and

considering how weak this wave had been, the tech would likely stay on top for at least a few more

hours. I parked Betsi's battered, dented carcass next to slick vehicles that cost twice my year's

salary and then some, and headed up the concrete steps to the lobby armored in steel plates and

bulletproof glass.

My foot caught on the edge of a step and I nearly took a dive. Great. Saiman was frighteningly

intelligent and observant, always a bad combo for an adversary. I needed to be sharp. Instead I was

so tired, my eyes required match-sticks to stay open. If I didn't wake up fast, Derek could end the

night wading through a sea of hurt.

When a shapeshifter hit puberty, he could go loup or go Code. Going loup meant surrendering

yourself to the beast and rolling down the bumpy hill of homicide, cannibalism, and insanity, until

you ran into teeth, blades, or a lot of silver bullets at the bottom. Going Code meant discipline, strict

conditioning, and an iron will, and subjecting oneself to this lifestyle was the only way a

shapeshifter could function in a human society. Going Code also meant joining a pack, where the

hierarchy was absolute, with alphas burdened with vast power and heavy responsibility.

Atlanta's Pack was arguably the biggest in the country. Only Alaska's Ice Fury rivaled it for

sheer numbers. Atlanta shapeshifters drew a lot of attention. The Pack was big on loyalty,

accountability, chain of command, and honor. The Pack members never forgot that society at large

perceived them as beasts, and they did everything in their power to project a low-key, law-abiding

image. Punishment for unsanctioned criminal activity was immediate and brutal.

Getting caught breaking and entering into Saiman's apartment would land Derek into scalding-

hot water. Saiman had connections, and if he chose, he could create a lot of noise. The potential for

the Pack to get a huge and very public black eye was significant. The Pack's alphas, collectively

known as the Pack Council, would be champing at the bit once they found out about the murder.

Right now wasn't a good time to piss them off any further. I needed to get Derek out of that

apartment, fast, quiet, and with a minimum of fuss.

I made it to the lobby and knocked on the metal grate. Inside a guard leveled an AK-47 at me

from behind his reinforced station in the center of the marble floor. I gave him my name and he

buzzed me in-I was expected. How nice of Saiman.

The elevator brought me to the fifteenth floor and spat me out into a luxurious hallway lined with

carpet that might have been thicker than my mattress. I crossed it to Saiman's apartment, and the

lock clicked open just as I reached out to ring the bell.

The door opened, revealing Saiman. He wore his neutral form, the one he usually put on for my

benefit: a bald man of average height and slight build, wearing white sweats. His lightly tanned face

was symmetrical, handsome even, strictly speaking, but devoid of any attitude. Being face-to-face

with him was similar to looking into an opaque, slightly reflective surface: he enjoyed mimicking

the mannerisms of his conversation partners, knowing it unnerved them.

His eyes, on the other hand, were as remarkable as his expression was bland: dark and backlit

with an agile intellect. Right now the eyes sparkled with amusement. Enjoy it while it lasts, Saiman.

I brought my sword.

«Kate, what a pleasure to see you.»

Can't say likewise. «Derek?»

«Please, come in.»

I entered the apartment, a carefully designed, monochromatic environment of ultramodern lines,

curves, and plush white cushions. Even the loup cage, which contained Derek at the far wall,

matched the gleaming steel and glass of the coffee table and lamp fixtures.

Derek saw me. He didn't stir, didn't say anything, but his gaze fastened on to me and wouldn't

let go.

I walked over to the cage and looked at him. In one piece. «Are you hurt?»