Doctor Wolf (The Collegium Book 4) (8 page)

Carson was accosted just inside the entrance of the expensive apartment building.

The concierge was a wolf-were, his face vaguely familiar from the few times Carson had spent with the Beo Pack. “Carson, good morning. I’ll have to phone up.”

So apparently Darryl—Carson had to check the man’s name badge—recognized him and the were rumor mill had provided the reason for Carson’s visit.

Did they all believe he was Liz’s boyfriend? And, remembering their incendiary kisses last night, was he?

“Michelle says for you to go up. The penthouse elevator is to your left.”

The penthouse elevator could have comfortably held twelve people. It had dull metal sides, a vinyl floor and no camera. No luxury carpet, here. It was an elevator a bleeding person could enter, and the evidence would just wipe away. Carson contemplated the plain floor and what that said about the people he was visiting: wealthy, but practical wolf-weres.

It wasn’t Liz who opened the door to him, but her mom, Michelle. “Good morning, Carson. Coffee? Liz is getting ready for the day.”

He stretched his hearing, but the penthouse was well-soundproofed. He had no idea where Liz was or what she was doing. “Coffee would be great.” He took a seat at a comfortable kitchen table, his nose telling him that Liz had been there only minutes before.

“I’m glad we have a few minutes to talk,” Michelle said.

“Oh?” The hair on the back of his neck rose in warning.

Liz’s mom smiled. She was tall like her daughter, with shorter hair, and dressed very practically in jeans, a cotton check shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and boots. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to give you the third degree. Steve will be here this afternoon, and you’ll discover that there’s nothing as protective as an older brother.”

“Steve’s a friend,” Carson said.

“Is he? And there was I, thinking it was my dad who vouched for you.” Michelle looked intrigued, but then she glanced towards a doorway and lowered her voice. “Liz doesn’t want me hovering, but I want someone with her if she leaves the penthouse. Will you stay close?”

He nodded. He intended to find some answers, and he expected Liz would want to go with him.

“Thank you.” Michelle patted his hand.

You have no idea what I just promised.
But he stifled his guilt as he heard Liz’s approach.

Michelle stood. “I have a construction site waiting inspection, so if you’ll excuse me?”

He stood with the good manners his own mom had instilled in him. “Good-bye.”

“Bye, Mom.” Liz hovered in the doorway till Michelle had departed. Her gaze kept darting to him and away. She was uncomfortable. “Carson, did I say thank you, last night?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t certain what to do, either. He was accustomed to a confident Liz, not this uncertain woman. Plus, he’d never felt this knotted tension in his gut before. It wasn’t fear, it was far more complicated. Anticipation and confusion. He abandoned words and thought, and went with  his instincts. He opened his arms and Liz ran into them.

Holding her tight felt right.

“I was so scared,” she muttered.

He tightened his hold.

“I was scared and angry,” she continued her confession. “I was afraid you’d be hurt. Killed. Or that Daria would be. I promised I’d keep her safe.”

“You did.” He rubbed her back, his own confusion and uncertainty fading as he held her.

“We did.” She pulled back, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I need a tissue.” He released her and she crossed the room to grab a tissue from a box, blow her nose and throw the tissue away. “Good thing I didn’t put mascara on.” Her voice was shaky.

“Come back here,” he said.

Her smiled wobbled, then steadied. She returned to his embrace. “It was kind of you to come and see how I am. I’m sorry I cried all over you.”

“As to that,” he said uncomfortably.

She’d been rubbing a hand over his chest, quiet and calm in his relaxed hold. Now, her hand stilled. Her quick glance at his expression showed her startlement.

He kissed her mouth lightly, tasting tears and toothpaste and a trace of raspberry lip balm. “I have a question for you.”

“Go on.”

He thought of going on in all seriousness, going on to steal more kisses, but this was important. “How did the intruders know that Daria was in your house?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Liz struck his chest in her excitement. “I phoned my contact in the shelter network last night to inform them of what happened and I asked if anyone had followed them or Daria’s voice coach. They were the only two people who knew she was staying with me. Neither of them had any sense that they’d been made.”

Her sincere use of the outdated mob slang, “made”, amused him. But her point was crucial, and confirmed part of his reasoning. It was his turn to nod and urge her to go on.

She paced. “Albert’s ward wasn’t broken at random. It required significant power and skill. A person wouldn’t hire a mage like that unless they were sure of what they were after—like with the break-in at your greenhouse. They knew the cost and risk of hiring a mage to break that ward was worth it.” She frowned out the window, at the astonishing view of London, then swung around to stare at Carson. “How would Andrew Thirkell know to hire a mage? He’s a mundane.”

“
He
is,” Carson said with emphasis.

Her mouth compressed, as if he’d confirmed a thought of hers. “A human trafficker who works with mages. We’ll have to contact the Collegium. They handle rogue mages.”

“I’m sure someone’s already told them.”

She walked back to him. The white sleeveless shirt she wore showed off the light, golden tan on her arms and their muscled perfection. Her legs were the same, perfect, beneath a pair of abbreviated navy shorts. Her sandals were flat and comfortably casual, made of natural leather. “What are you thinking?”

Time to put his cards on the table. He was here because he had suspicions that only she could confirm. “When we got back to your house last night, Albert was already there because he’d felt the ward break. If Albert used the same pattern of warding as at the greenhouse, the first layer was a look-away spell and the inner ward was set to keep people out. Only, neither ward affects weres.”

Liz’s stillness suggested she’d also considered the facts, and drawn similar conclusions. “It’s true, wards or not, a were who came to my house could see, smell and hear its inhabitants. If they knew Daria, they could recognize her. But what are the chances of a were knowing her scent well enough to pick it up? And while our lives are filled with weres, there aren’t actually that many of them. We’re a tiny percentage of the population. I haven’t scented any around my home for days.”

“Except Brandon,” Carson said deliberately.

She stared at him. “No. He’s pack!”

“And your instincts screamed so loudly at you when he appeared outside your house that you panicked and rushed to claim me as your boyfriend.”

“Carson, it couldn’t be Brandon.”

“Why not?”

“Whoever it was hired a mage and mundanes to invade the house. If he’d used weres, the mage wouldn’t have been necessary. The wards wouldn’t need to have been broken. They’d have been irrelevant.”

“You’re the sister of the Suzerain.” Carson gripped her hands. “Which weres do you think would be suicidal enough to attack you?” She pulled at his hold, but he wouldn’t release her. “Think past your emotions. Who else but Brandon had a chance to observe Daria behind the wards?”

“But how would he recognize her?”

“He’d have to know Andrew Thirkell,” Carson said bluntly.

“A human trafficker?” Liz looked sick. “A sadistic bastard. It can’t be Brandon. He loves his daughters.”

“So?”

She regarded him in horror and appeal. “No.”

“Then tell me who else it could be.”

They stared at one another. Then she wrenched free. “I’m going to the hospital. I want to see how Albert is and if there’s anything he can tell us about the mage.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Because you think Brandon will attack me?” A scathing question.

Yes
. Instead, he answered calmly. “Because I promised your mom.”

Liz rode down in the elevator beside Carson feeling jittery and sick. Her mind spun uselessly, unable to think of another possibility—another person—who could have betrayed her and Daria. Brandon was pack! He couldn’t possibly have sent someone to attack her, possibly to kill her.

But Brandon had been one of the few London-based members of the Beo Pack who hadn’t turned up last night, despite the late hour, to check how she was. His ex-wife had custody of their daughters, so there was nothing to stop him, and information sped faster than wildfire among wolf-weres. Why hadn’t he been there, especially after he’d stated his intention to court her?

If he was responsible, and she still fought against the idea, then he might have stayed away for fear the mage or one of the mundane fighters would recognize him as the man who hired them.

No.
She trembled, sick at heart.

Carson put an arm around her shoulders. “I might be wrong. It mightn’t be Brandon.”

“And if it is?” she whispered as the elevator doors opened.

“Then all hell breaks loose.”

The hospital smelled, as all hospitals do, of disinfectant and sickness, of desperation and dying flowers. It also smelled familiar. Liz walked in the public entrance since Carson was with her. The good news was that Albert wasn’t in Intensive Care, but had been relegated to a general men’s ward. They found him in a private room, talking on the phone.

His eyes narrowed at their arrival. “Sorry, Daria. Liz has just arrived with her boyfriend. I’ll have to go. Yes, yes, I’ll give her your love.” He disconnected. “Want a kiss, ducky?”

Carson stiffened fractionally beside her.

Liz ignored him. She bent over Albert and kissed his clean-shaven cheek. “How are you?”

“Doctor talk.” He scowled at her. “If you want to know, read my chart.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and picked it up. “Everything looks good.”

“It’s like I haven’t been shot at all,” he grumbled.

She replaced the chart and shook his left foot through the light blanket covering him. “Don’t be grouchy. We have questions for you.”

“Oh, goody.”

“First, how come you were talking with Daria?”

Carson glanced up at her, surprised, as he finished placing two chairs by Albert’s bedside.

“Women!” Albert didn’t seem surprised, but a dull flush gave color to his pale face. “Always with the personal side. As it happens, Daria phoned me. John gave her my number. We had a nice chat last night before it was so rudely interrupted, and she wanted to make sure I was okay, today.”

“Fine. That’s your business.” Carson didn’t have the patience for more off-the-topic chatter. “About the wards?”

Albert turned to him with evident relief. “It was the same bloody mage who broke the greenhouse ward. Then he only broke the look-away spell and the inner, keep-out ward bounced him. I’m glad to think he’d have had the hell of a headache.”

“He has one today,” Liz said. “He’s getting over concussion from Carson’s punch.”

“I didn’t want him waking up and capable of using magic,” Carson defended himself.

She touched his arm as he sat in the chair beside hers. “You did what you had to. Thank you.”

“I was about as much help as a fart in a thunderstorm,” Albert grumbled.

“You saved Daria,” Carson said seriously. “We’ve all had time to think about it. The mundanes who came through the front and back doors were the distraction—dispensable in the minds of whoever hired them. The real threat to Daria was the mage who could locate her swiftly inside the house. Any open sesame spell would have gotten her out of that panic room.”

Albert grunted, but he seemed slightly less grumpy.

“About the wards?” Carson prompted. “What did that tell you about the mage?”

“I spoke to David about him,” Albert said unexpectedly.

“To Dad?”

Albert smiled slyly. “Your dad is a smart man and a lawyer. He knows everyone. He never looked into Daria’s situation—why should he? He never knew you were hiding her.”

Liz ignored the implied criticism. “But what can Dad do? He’s a human rights lawyer.” Her voice slowed. “He knows people.” What Albert had said finally penetrated. “Human trafficking is an international trade. Dad knows people in international justice.”

Albert nodded encouragement, then winced. “Flipping muscles are connected in unlikely ways. Weirdest things hurt.”

“Do you want more pain medication?”

“Nah, nah. I want a clear head. I wouldn’t mind a glass of water. Mouth like a desert.”

“That’ll be the anesthetic from when they stitched you up.” Liz poured water into a glass and held it till she was sure Albert’s grip was steady. He drank and she took the glass back. “What did Dad know?”

“He showed the mage’s photo around. A bloke in Interpol, one of the Collegium mages embedded there, recognized the bastard. Russian. Works for the Russian mob. Doesn’t normally travel far from home, they reckon. Hence me not recognizing his work at the greenhouse. Don’t worry. I’ve worked out how he broke the wards. Clever bastard. I overlooked—” He clamped his mouth shut. “Never mind.”

“We don’t,” Carson said. Professional secrets were familiar to all three of them. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“Oo-ee.” Albert hitched himself up against the pillows. “Me, too. But he’s under police guard, one of the Collegium mages, again, and they say his brain is rattled. You won’t get a chance.”

Liz took a deep breath. “We will if Grandfather arranges it.”