Ilona Andrews - Magic Rises

“It does to me.”

“Then no. I don’t want to see him.”

Jarek Kral reached the door. This close the photograph really did him justice: same wavy brown hair, same large, roughly hewn face. His features could’ve been more refined, if they weren’t tinted with cruelty. I knew the type. He was the type of man who could explode over the smallest thing and the explosion would be violent.

The sneer was bigger in person as well.

He reached the door. “Move,” he said in an accented voice.

“Your daughter doesn’t want to visit now,” I said.

He stared at me with dark eyes under heavy lids, as if he just now realized I was blocking his way. “Who are you?

“You may call me Kate. I’m the Consort of the Beast Lord.”

“Step aside.” His eyes flashed green.

“No.”

Behind me someone gasped.

His voice boomed. “Who told you you can do this?”

And here we go, straight into the lake of drama without taking our clothes off first. “You did.” I pulled the contract from my pocket. “This document says I must serve your daughter’s best interests. She determined it’s in her best interests not to speak with you right now. This is your signature. It gives me all the authority I need.”

He snatched the paper from my hand and ripped it.

“I have another copy,” I said.

“I’ll rip out your throat!” he snarled.

Like father, like daughter. “If you try, you won’t live to see your grandchildren and my job will be done. I’ll get to go home early. So please do try. I miss my house already.”

His eyebrows came together. His upper lip trembled.

“An assault on the Consort will be treated as an act of war,” Derek said.

A guttural snarl ripped from Jarek. Clearly, he hadn’t bothered to look up “personal restraint” in the dictionary.

I reached behind me and put my hand on Slayer’s hilt. “This is your last warning. Do not attempt to enter.”

“What’s going on?” A man ran up the stairs. He was blond, tall, and muscular, with features that would make an angel proud—Desandra’s first husband, Radomil, from the Volkodavi pack. A woman followed him, slightly older than me, slender, with a wealth of golden hair braided back from her face.

“Stay out of this!” Jarek snarled. “You’ve done enough.”

Radomil shot back something in a language I didn’t understand. A torrent of words spilled from Jarek.

“You’re a pig!” Radomil snarled back in English. “A filthy pig. Leave Desandra alone!”

“Get out of my way!” Jarek roared.

“If Kral doesn’t abide by the agreement, why should we?” the blond woman said.

I let them scream at each other. It didn’t affect me unless one of them tried to enter the room.

A tall, dark-haired man closed in on us. Where Radomil’s face had a healthy, sun-tanned glow, this man radiated intelligence and weary awareness. He saw Jarek and Radomil. His dark eyebrows came together. His lips narrowed into a hard line. Yellow light rolled over his irises. Uh-oh.

The man accelerated. It had to be one of the Belve Ravennati brothers, but which one I couldn’t tell.

Without slowing down, the Italian raised his fist and swung at Jarek. The big man moved aside and the Italian hammered a punch into Radomil instead. Radomil snarled like an animal and lunged at the Italian.

More people flooded the hallway from the left, an older dark-haired woman in the lead.

Jarek spat something. Radomil and the Italian grappled, snarling.

“If they change shape, we bar the door,” I murmured.

Derek nodded.

Radomil shoved his opponent forward, tripping the Italian. The dark-haired man dropped to the ground with a lupine growl. Any moment now they’d go furry, and then things would be infinitely worse.

An eerie hyena cackle rolled through the hallway, a high-pitched, insane laugh that made you shiver.

Suddenly everyone stopped. Aunt B stood in the hallway.

“So this is what our European brothers and sisters have been reduced to,” she said, her voice carrying through the castle. “Brawling in the hallways like spoiled schoolchildren. No wonder you had to send for our help.”

Go, Aunt B!

The alpha of Clan Bouda looked at the dark-haired woman. “Hello, Isabella. It’s been a long time.”

“Hello, Beatrice,” the dark-haired woman squeezed through her teeth.

“Is that your son on the floor?”

Isabella snapped a short command. The dark-haired man rolled to his feet and strode over to her. Isabella slapped him. The sound rang through the hallway. The Italians turned and left without another word.

I looked at Jarek Kral. He pointed his finger at me, opened his mouth, clamped it shut, turned, and walked away.

The blond woman said something to Radomil. He pulled away from her and stalked off.

“You must forgive my brother,” the blond woman said. “He is a very kind man. He just doesn’t understand politics.” Her eyebrows came together. She pointed over my shoulder. “Who is that man?”

“He is a medic,” Andrea answered.

“A medic? Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said. “He is just performing a routine physical exam.”

She actually looked concerned. “Is he going to draw blood? Desandra, I can hold your hand if you need me.”

“It’s fine,” Desandra called.

I pulled my official Order voice out of the mental trunk where I’d kept it stashed for months, ever since I quit my tenure with the Knights of Merciful Aid. “I’m sorry, I have to ask you to leave.”

“Fine, fine. Just . . . Don’t torture her. She’s been through enough.” The woman turned and hurried down the stairs after Radomil. I glanced over my shoulder. Doolittle was holding a large syringe filled with pinkish liquid. Desandra petted her stomach.

“What is this for?” I asked.

“Amniocentesis,” Doolittle said. “It’s a routine screen of amniotic fluid. We want to make sure everything is proceeding as it’s supposed to.”

Aunt B approached us. “Well, that went nicely.”

“You told my father no,” Desandra said to me.

“Sure.”

“He’ll kill you for it,” Desandra said.

“He may find it much harder than it appears, dear,” Aunt B told her. “Dinner is coming up. Kate, you may want to change. You smell like the sea. You two go. Derek and I will watch after Desandra while you’re changing.”

I turned to Derek. “I will send Eduardo. When Desandra is ready to go, the two of you will follow her. Nobody comes in the room if she doesn’t want to see them.”

“Got it,” Derek said.

“The rooms are just down the hall,” Aunt B said. “Here, I’ll walk partway with you then head back.”

We strode down the hallway.

“I told you so,” Aunt B said quietly.

“Told me what?”

“Please, Kate. The fresh young thing on the pier? She even wore white.”

“And?”

“Nothing at all, dear. Just reflecting on the color. How virginal and bridal.”

Yes. I’d noticed. If they were trying to influence Curran by shoving Lorelei under his nose, they weren’t very subtle about it.

“Yours is the first door on the right. Andrea, you and Raphael are across from them. The rest of us are just down the hall,” Aunt B said. “The sound really carries through here. You can hear practically everything, so if you call we’ll come running.”

Got it. Nothing said in the rooms would be private, and our hosts were likely listening really hard. “Good to know.”

“I’ve checked and the dinner is a formal affair. Do wear a dress, Kate.”

I killed a growl, and Andrea and I went down the hallway.

“We’ve worked worse jobs,” Andrea said.

“Mm-hm. This whole place doesn’t feel right to me.”