strong, but it was too late. One of the other bozos had stepped forwards and put the muzzle of his gun to her temple. A shot that close to the head was too much, even for a werewolf.
“Uh uh uh, pretty lady,” he said.
“But why?” Blanc cried.
“Fuck,” said Risa.
“Duh da da dum. It’s was the jacket all along!” Colin’s voice was mocking. Like he was narrating a children’s audio book.
Things moved quickly, then.
The selkies swung around, guns covering the pack. They either had done their research and knew all the San Andreas werewolves and what they looked like, or they were just that well trained. There was a military precision to their coordination; it spoke of structured colony arrangements and elite service. Navy Seals, perhaps?
Judd swore at himself. He’d miscalculated. He’d thought they were seal shifters − these were obviously sea lions. Well, shitgibbon.
Eight sea lions, plus their leader. While Judd had eight pack members, none of them with guns, and three in need of safeguarding – Marvin, Trick, and Colin. Colin would hate to know he was numbered as one of the weaker elements. But Judd couldn’t help how his brain strategized. Blanc and the humans were not predictable. He still wasn’t sure whose side they were on.
The mobsters sensed wolf protective instincts in play. They knew what to do. Two guns pointed at Judd, but Colin was the real target. Two were directed at Alec, but only because he stood in front of Marvin. Same with Tank, who defended Trick.
Except everyone had forgotten about Isaac. Omega power worked in mysterious ways. It’s not like their Omega wasn’t standing right there, in line with them next to Risa. And yet they’d all mentally misplaced him. Even Judd.
Omega power. Everyone had forgotten, even the selkie. Which meant not a single gun was pointed at Isaac. Big mistake.
Isaac wasn’t like Bryan, he hadn’t the Beta’s calming energy. And yet, for a breath, everything just seemed to pause. He’d been absent, and now he wasn’t – a single pebble dropped into still waters. Judd grimaced. Poetry again? What had Colin done to him?
Isaac sent something out – a reverberation, a muffling – and that something intransigent subdued them all.
Blanc stopped screaming.
The guns didn’t tilt down. The selkie seemed less affected, but even they were somehow less tense.
Blanc stared at Isaac, eyes full of avarice. “What are you?”
Isaac tilted up one corner of his mouth. “I am not the one you should be worried about.”
Acrid ozone and sweet coolant came then. The prickling of hairs on everyone’s skin. Quintessence shimmered about them, like air made of oil, responding to a pull. Judd didn’t look at Max, he was too well trained for that. Instead he watched the Prince of the Blubber Bozos to see how he’d react. Out of the corner of his eye, Judd also monitored his Alpha. Alec was standing, quiet in the corner, trusting his pack to do what needed to be done. He was proud of them and their abilities and would only interfere if necessary.
Judd felt the joy of that sweep over him. To have an Alpha who loved and trusted them. Trusted him to handle this. To have Alec show up and not demand to lead an operation, but simply support it. It was a miracle.
Judd knew what Max was doing. He was showing his power. Without Bryan he couldn’t safely control quintessence. Theoretically, he could hurl fireballs or convert energy into razor-sharp blades, but there was no way to know how much or where they’d go. Max without Bryan couldn’t stop the selkie from shooting or strip them of their guns. With no familiar, Max was all power and pain and no focus or intent. But the selkies didn’t know that. Blanc didn’t know that.
Isaac dropped his hold over them then.
Max upped his draw on the quintessence. The smell got worse.
Blanc whirled and stared at their Magistar. “Who the hell are you?”
Gray nothingness shimmered around Max, undulating energy and matter mixed but not fully present, phasing in and out of existence.
“Oh,” said Max, “I’m just one of those little people you said you wanted to get to know.”
The selkie prince panicked. “Everyone just stop whatever the fuck you’re doing or I will shoot you all. This is my jacket.”
“Darling,” said Marvin, still sitting and sipping, unfazed, “it’s fabulous and all, but it will so not fit you properly.”
They heard the sirens then. Police sirens.
Outside, a black car drew up, a familiar one, with a tire that