“He rescued me from a foster dad with a gun. Jim Bob. Moron.” Katie wiggled in her seat, sending the fragments spiraling. “I was four, and shifted by accident. Had no idea I was a feline shifter. Jim Bob chased me into the woods. Jordan intercepted him.”
Moira needed the green to return. The emerald tones seemed more in tune with Katie’s natural state. “So he saved you. Quite the hero.” There it was. She dug into the scattering, trying to thicken the pattern like the homemade quilt Darcy had made for her bed at the cottage.
“Yes. Turns out my parents had been part of his pride, but moved to the city and lost touch. They died in a car accident. I don’t remember them.” Sadness filtered through the words, while natural baby blue specks wound through Katie’s waves—a normal color for regret.
“So Jordan raised you?” Every time Moira used his name, Katie’s natural colors shone brighter, but the grays and browns continued to dominate.
“No. My mother is a member of his pride. She adopted me.” Love filled the air. Strong red and pinks joined the green. The browns remained static.
A low hum of pain centered between Moira’s ears. A warning. The air crackled. “Now isn’t the time.” She withdrew, sliding away from the subatomic particles to the surface of life. “I’m sorry. The competing forces going on within you need to battle it out ... then possibly we can alter the energy.”
Katie nodded, her somber expression remaining the same. “I figured. When the moon rose, the competition began ... almost as if my brain was being separated into two distinct shapes. The process doesn’t hurt, oddly enough.” She tucked her legs under her. “You know what I miss?” Soft, low, she spoke almost as if she were alone in the room.
“What?”
“The colors”—Katie glanced up, their gazes meeting—“when I shift. Everything brightens and sparkles ... and I can see the colors inside the colors. Like you do.”
“Yes.” Moira nodded, her heart aching. Losing that ability would cripple her. “I’m so sorry, Katie.” Though reaching out and fighting was the solution.
A deep breath lifted Katie’s chest. Her eyes cleared. “Yes, well. Outside when the beast howled, I felt him. I knew where he hid.” She shrugged, a dark smile revealing smooth teeth. “Such knowledge might come in handy.”
Moira sat back. The furious anticipation filling the lioness’s eyes sent a chill down her spine. “Maybe.” She stood. Emma was busy dealing with the werewolf, but Moira hoped Cara had a second to brainstorm. “We’re going to figure this out.” At Kate’s quiet nod, Moira turned and hustled from the room. Something told her time was running out for her new friend.
She wound through the underground abyss, coming to Cara’s quarters and knocking on the outside of the steel door, her knuckles protesting. A bomb couldn’t open the door. But a very pregnant, flushed woman could.
Surprise caught Moira’s breath. “Are you feeling all right?” She grasped Cara’s arms, turning her toward the sofa. The smell of gardenias comforted her, a row of them lined up on a shelf across the room. Brenna loved gardenias. When the hell was she going to get her sister to safety?
“I’m fine.” Cara rubbed her belly, waddling to sit down. “The baby is playing soccer inside me, that’s all.” She stretched her neck, drawing in air, smoothing hair away from her face. “Talen said they caught a were?”
“Yeah. Conn hurried off to get a look at the beast. Katie said she sensed him.”
Cara’s face pinched. “I wish she hadn’t injected herself with the catalyst.” Her eyes widened. “Hey, do you think you’re able to create a spell and slow the progression?”
Moira shrugged, settling into the leather cushions. The color exactly matched her sofa in Dublin and a pang of homesickness hit her. “I doubt it. With you, the spell combined with Emma’s concoction did the trick, and we can’t guarantee the same thing would work with Katie.” The hormones in Cara’s body from the pregnancy had to have played a serious part—maybe the only part that mattered. Moira schooled her face into a thoughtful gaze.
Cara rolled her eyes. “Please. Don’t ever play poker with Katie.” A sigh escaped her as she arched her back, frowning. “This kid has some power.” She frowned. “I know the hormones from gestating a vampire baby have protected me from the virus progressing too fast.”
“What happens when he’s born?” Moira didn’t want to ask, but obviously the Kayrs women were educated scientists. Certainly, they’d thought of asking.
“We don’t know.” Cara bit her lip. “The regimen of medication seems to help, but as with any new illness, all we have is trial and error.”
That’s all they had in life, as far as Moira was concerned. She glanced around the small quarters, smiling at the sheer amount of greenery. Multiple shades of green adorned thin leaves, fat leaves, even furry leaves. “Talen prepared the place with you in mind.”
Cara’s smile flashed a dimple, and she pointed to a gorgeous drawing of Janie hanging on the wall. “Yeah, and Dage sketches pictures of us for the walls—the king is seriously talented. You should see his pictures of Emma.”
Moira returned the grin. “I know. He’s sent me sketches of the family for years.”
A beep sounded on the laptop across the room. Cara pushed to her feet, wandering over and pressing a button. “What’s up, Chalton?”
A face appeared, male and vampire. Soldier. “I have a secured call for Moira and heard she’s with you.” Even as he spoke, the rapid typing of keys and buzzing of machines continued uninterrupted.
Moira stood, adrenaline shooting her to the computer. “I’m here.” Who’d be calling her? Nobody but the Nine knew where she was; she hadn’t even told Brenna.
Chalton disappeared and Kell took shape, his black eyes sparking with anger. “When did you last talk to Brenna?”
Moira’s knees buckled, and she fell into the office chair by the desk. The painting of an electric blue fantasy scene Bren had painted last year adorned the wall behind Kell. He was sitting in Brenna’s living room. “Why?” she whispered, leaning closer to his face so he could reassure her Brenna was fine.
Male voices echoed from behind him. “I came to pick her up. She’s not here.”
There was more. There had to be. “And?”
Kell exhaled, running a hand through his thick hair. “The place is trashed. There’s blood.”
The sound that escaped Moira may have been a plea. She barely registered Cara’s reassuring hand dropping to her shoulder. “How much blood?”
“Enough.” Movement flashed behind him. “When they tried to take you, remember the mess it created?”
“Yes.” Her mind spun back to the breaking glass, the papers flying all over—the sheer power coming from the abyss. “But no blood. I mean, I didn’t get cut or anything.” Glass could’ve injured Brenna before she was taken. If Kell was back in Ireland, all hell had broken loose. “Why are you home?”
His eyes hardened in an already hard face. “I came home last night to force the Nine into seclusion. Whether they like it or not.”
Moira nodded. The enforcers would do their job to protect the council regardless of repercussions. “Did you?”
“Yes.” A storm moved through Kell’s gray eyes. “My sense is someone was here. They came here to take Bren.” His jaw set in cold rage.
Moira frowned. “If it wasn’t whoever’s taking the Nine, who was it?” Could the Kurjans have taken Brenna? To what gain?
Most men would’ve shrugged. Kell remained still. “Demons, Kurjans, shifters? To force the Nine into compliance.” Not by a twitch did his facial expression change. “Vampires?”