Graves was still out cold, curled up next to the window. Ash rocked back and forth slightly, watching him.
Christophe laid the phone down gently. “They’ll bring him. We need to go.”
“I’m not—” I began, but he brushed past me and was suddenly at the door. The locks chucked aside and it opened, and a familiar pair of cat-tilted blue eyes peered past him.
Nathalie barely paused, barging straight in. Her sleek dark head bobbed, her blue eyes were spangled with little bits of yellow wulfen glow, and I braced myself for anger or worse—disappointment.
After all, I’d been a raving bitch to her the last time she’d seen me.
She threw her arms around me, and her odd musky perfume wrapped around me too. As usual, she looked impeccable, from the royal-blue scarf twisted around her neck to her long dangling key-shaped earrings, her jeans torn just right and her espadrilles fashionably frayed.
“Nat!” I almost got a mouthful of her hair. “I’m so sor—”
“You moron!” She hugged me so tight I could feel a wulfen’s strength in her. My bones creaked. “You’re an idiot! I would’ve come with you! Don’t ever do that again!” She eased up enough to hold me at arm’s length and shake me, three times, precisely, then grabbed me again and hugged me so hard the air whoofed out of me. “Moron! Dumbass! Jesus, Dru!”
“Skyrunner.” Christophe sounded grimly amused. “A little quieter, if you please.”
More familiar faces. Shanks slid by Christophe, his lean face set and his legs looking longer than ever. He pushed at the emo-boy swoop of dark hair over his forehead and glanced at me, then at the window, where Ash still crouched. “Sheeeee-yit,” he drawled.
“Is that Graves?” Blond, anxious Dibs crowded past him. “Is he hurt? I’ve got the restraints. What happened?”
“He’s Broken.” Christophe swept the door mostly closed. “Get him prepped for travel and be cautious. Milady Dru won’t leave here without him.”
Damn right I won’t. “Oh my God—” I almost got another mouthful of Nat’s hair. She was holding on for dear life. “Jesus, guys, it’s good to see you.”
“Hey, Dru.” Dibs shuffled past, carefully not looking at me. Clashing, jangling silver dripped from his hands, but I was too busy hugging Nat to really see what he carried. “We were worried. Bobby almost had a heart attack.”
“Not me.” Shanks hopped up on the bed I’d been sleeping in, folding down into an easy crouch. “Benjamin, though, he looked about ready to have kittens. You went right out the damn window and vanished, Dru. Congrats on never being boring.”
Which was as close as he’d ever get to telling me he was happy to see me.
Nat sniffed and let up on me, patting at her cheeks. “Crap. Now my eyeliner’s probably ruined. We were worried, Dru. Don’t ever pull a boner stunt like that again, you hear me?”
So she wasn’t mad. Thank God. The terrible knot inside my chest eased slightly. “I’m so sorry—”
“Can we move it along here?” Christophe’s tone could have sliced solid granite. “This is an emergency.”
Dibs crouched next to Graves. The silver turned out to be thread-thin glittering restraints, and I swallowed a sick feeling as he quickly, efficiently had Goth Boy trussed up like a Christmas goose. “These work on wulfen.” Dibs ducked his head, talking to the floor. “Should work on him, too. Unless he convinces someone to take them off.”
“Which is why Nat and me’re here.” Shanks cocked his head. “Dru, what the hell happened?”
“He saved my life.” It was suddenly important to get that out first. “Came back with a gun while I was fighting off S-S-Serg—” I couldn’t finish the name. “Him. While I was fighting him off.”
“Come, children, let’s move.” Christophe had the shotgun, the two malaika hilts poking up over his shoulders. Nat was already buckling me into my own malaika-harness, and I caught sight of a familiar shoulder holster peeping out from under her blue linen jacket. Shanks scooped up the two duffel bags of gear and clothes, Nat’s quick efficient fingers gave a yank at the strap of my messenger bag to make it lay right, and she gave me a little shove toward the door.
“Dibs’ll handle the loup-garou,” she said. “Come on, you go right after Reynard. Hey, you know, he’s cute.”
“What?”
“Graves.” She fell into step behind me. “He’s cute. You didn’t mention that.”
“For Christ’s sake, Nat, he’s unconscious.” Something bitter crawled up into my throat. Was it . . . yeah, maybe a little. It was jealousy. I mean, Nat was so pretty.
Jeez. So not the time to be worrying about this, Dru.
Christophe checked the hall. “Stay close, milna.”
“No worries about that.” I wished for a gun, but if we ran across vampires the malaika were the better bet. Plus the fact that I was toxic now. That would help.
But Sergej had gotten close enough to Anna to get his fangs in. She was svetocha too. He got close enough to my mother to kill her, despite her toxicity to suckers. Still, I’d tangoed with the king of the vampires a couple of times now and came out ahead.
That doesn’t mean your chances are good next time. Don’t get cocky.
The hall was eerily silent, directionless lighting and a leggy expensive table with a flower arrangement down at the end. I wondered if anyone in the rooms around us had called down to the front desk because of the ruckus.