When Marks and Infernals were in their element, they didn’t show up on film. They functioned on a different plane altogether. Eve assumed that was why her mother couldn’t see the Mark of Cain on her arm.
“Posterity.”
“You should take one now,” Eve suggested, trying to find the same enthusiasm the others exhibited. Maybe posing for a group picture would foster solidarity among them. It certainly couldn’t hurt. “Of all of us.”
Claire gestured to Sydney, who stood nearby in full black urban commando garb. “Will you take the picture for us?”
Everyone lined up into two rows—men kneeling in the front, women standing in the back. Claire asked Gadara to stand to one side. The result was an assemblage reminiscent of an elementary school class photo.
Yanking up her poplin sleeve, Claire said, “Show your armbands, s’il vous plaît.”
The group posed with funny faces and proudly presented biceps wrapped with the armbands. The mood was festive.
Which made Eve wonder why she felt as if something was about to go horribly wrong.
“You’ve reached Evangeline Hollis. Leave a message, and I’ll return your call as soon as I can.”
Alec terminated the connection with a quick tap to his headset, then he applied more pressure to the accelerator. The black convertible Mustang’s 300-horsepower engine rumbled with pleasure, hurtling the sleek sports car along Highway 17.
“You’re going the wrong way,” Giselle said.
He tossed her a dry glance.
As they passed a freeway sign, she pointed at it. “You’re going north.”
“I know where I’m going.”
“Gadara headquarters is in Anaheim. To the south.”
“Do you have a point?”
Giselle frowned behind her new five-dollar sunglasses. They’d purchased more appropriate clothes for her at a truck stop—shorts, a tank top emblazoned with California, flip-flops, and a kerchief to wrap around her head.
They were cruising with the top down. Hot wheels, beautiful day, wrong girl. Alec would say two out of three wasn’t bad, but he missed Eve too much.
And his girl wasn’t answering her cell phone.
He knew she was in training, but after their conversation the night before, he needed to talk to her and make sure she was feeling better. He also needed to ease the sense that something was off, and only the sound of her voice could do that.
“You promised to take me to safety,” Giselle argued.
“No. You asked me to take you with me. I’ve done that.”
She pivoted in the seat. “We can’t go north!”
“Why not?” Alec kept his hands relaxed on the steering wheel, but inside he was still and watchful.
“Because it’s too dangerous.”
“You’ll have to give me more than that.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m hunting.” He glanced aside at her. “Don’t be coy.”
“I’m not coy, damn you. I’m scared.”
He knew that much was true; he smelled the fear on her. “Tell me why.”
“Tell me you’re not going after Charles Grimshaw.”
Alec smiled. “I’m not telling you shit. The sharing between us only works one way.”
“That’s not fair!”
With a quick glance at the rearview mirror to check for traffic, he eased diagonally across the second lane and pulled to a stop on the shoulder. “If you don’t like the rules, get out.”
Her features altered into the enraged mask of her Infernal soul. “You’re a dick.”
“You’re right.”
“You need me.”
“You wish.”
She crossed her arms. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”
Cars and trucks roared by, shaking the Mustang on its wheels and stirring exhaust in the slightly chill air.
“Make me care,” he challenged. “Tell me why I should.”
“Do you want to die?”
“Not gonna happen. I’ve known Charles for years.”
“No one knows the Alpha, not really.”
“Don’t talk in riddles.”
Her too-slender fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shorts.
“Okay.” He backtracked. “What does Charles have to do with you?”
Mares and wolves weren’t known to associate. They were too different; one a physical aggressor, the other a mental marauder.
Giselle chewed her lower lip, her eyes darting over their surroundings, running in the only way she could—mentally. Alec was more than alert now. There was no doubt she wanted to reveal only the amount necessary to stem his questions.
“I don’t have time for this,” he snapped.
“If I tell you everything here,” she whined, “what leverage do I have to get you to take me back to Anaheim?”
“You have no leverage. I need your blood, that’s it. Obviously, I don’t need you alive to get it.”
“I’m running from Charles,” Giselle blurted. “I need to get away from his territory, not drive into it.”
“Does he have anything to do with what happened last night?”