Huntress Moon
Author: Bilinda Sheehan
Date: 2017-08-11 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Urban Fantasy; Fantasy; Fae; Paranormal; Demons; Magic
Description: With the dust of her last case finally settling, Darcey is left to pick up the pieces of her life. The disappearance of her sexy ex-god boss, Lunn, means the banshee is free of the Faerie Court and their bounties. But freedom comes at a cost and Darcey is left wondering if there is more to Lunn’s disappearance than meets the eye? When a hot and hunky werewolf turns up on Darcey’s doorstep seeking help, she firmly reminds him that banshees and werewolves don’t mix. But with a sickness affecting all the werewolves in the city, threatening to turn them all into blood-thirsty monsters by the Huntr
Rights: Copyright 2017 Bilinda Sheehan. All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

- Want to know when the next book is coming?
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Want to know when the next book is coming?

Huntress Moon

Bones and Bounties Book 2

Bilinda Sheehan

Copyright © 2017 by Bilinda Sheehan

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

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Also by Bilinda Sheehan

Untitled

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Acknowledgments

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Also by Bilinda Sheehan

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Also by Bilinda Sheehan

The Shadow Sorceress Series

A Grave Magic

Blood Craft

Grim Rites

Wild Hunt

Touch of Shadow

Embrace of Darkness - Coming Soon

Bones and Bounties

Banshee Blues

Huntress Moon

Bond of Blood and Shadow Series

Violet Line - Book One

Can I see another's woe, and not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, and not seek for kind relief?

William Blake

.

Chapter One

Three tiny drops of rainwater beaded on my skin, rolling down my forehead and into my eyes, causing them to sting as my vision blurred. Fire burned in the back of my parched throat, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My body was so dehydrated I couldn’t even moisten my lips, and they split as I struggled to open my mouth in response to the tiny drips of life-saving liquid.

Tilt back, goddammit, my brain commanded my utterly exhausted body. Moving my head back would allow the water to stand some chance of reaching my mouth, but instead I hung limply from the iron-studded leather straps that kept me in place against the wall.

A key turned in the lock of my cell door, and the familiar crunch of my jailer’s boots crossing the floor filled me with hope.

Would today be the day they killed me?

“Repent,” he said, his voice gruff.

Despair flooded my veins, and the grating sound that came from my throat was practically unrecognisable to my ears.

I couldn’t raise my face to stare into his, but I didn’t need to see his frustration because I could feel it pouring from his body like steam.

How much more could I stand?

A second set of footsteps echoed in my cell, and fear crept up along my spine. I jerked internally as a cold hand touched my face, tilting it up. I blinked back the tears crowding my vision. I knew what was coming. The pain had become my intimate friend.

“She still shows no sign of remorse,” Lunn said, addressing the fae whose fingers pinched my chin.

I let my eyes wander over to Lunn and sucked in a deep breath through my teeth. His expression was one of pity as his gaze met mine. My jailer would not save me.

“Look at me,” the fae who held me said, but the voice was wrong.

I knew the woman who tortured me day in and day out. The way her blade carved at my skin, the feel of her sharpened teeth as she feasted on my flesh, hour after hour, restoring my body only to start the torment over again. But this was not her voice, not her hands on my face.

“Look at me, Darcey,” he said, calling to me in ways only he could. My insides tightened, and my heart constricted in my chest.

My god.

My heart.

My Mannan.

My gaze swivelled to his face, his beautiful face. He smiled, and it lit his dark eyes. I strained toward him, my fingers itching to trace the face I hadn’t touched in an age, but the straps around my wrists halted my movement.

Straps…

Mannan had never come to me when the fae held me prisoner. He was the reason they tortured me, the reason they carved flesh from my bones day after day. The reason my power felt sluggish in my veins. Because of him, I was only a shade of my former self.

“You’re not here. This isn’t real,” I whispered, my lips cracking. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

Mannan’s smile faded, the loving expression in his eyes melting away to be replaced by something bitter and twisted. I blinked, mostly in an attempt to protect myself from the vitriol in his gaze, but it served another purpose—when I looked at him once more, I saw him for what he truly was.

One side of his formerly beautiful face had split open, the pus-filled remains of his eye socket writhing with maggots. He hissed, his thin, blackened lips stripping back from his rotted teeth as he jerked away from the shimmering bars of the cage I had trapped him inside.

His gnarled hand fell away from me, and I was no longer pinned to the dungeon wall in Faerie.

“Come back to me, Darcey,” he said, reaching toward me with his twisted, bird-like hands.

“This isn’t real. You’re not really here, Mannan—I made sure of it when I created the cage.” I took a small step backwards.

It couldn’t be real, and yet it felt real. I could practically feel him inside my head, just like he had been before.

“Of course I’m here, my love. Did you really believe I would stay gone?”

His words sent a spurt of terror through my stomach, and I clenched my hands into fists to keep my face from betraying my emotion.

“This is a nightmare.”

“I miss you…” he said, his words tugging at my mind.

“No.” I spoke firmly and took another step back.

“Come home, Darcey, I forgive you.” The edge of excitement to his words was all I needed to realise I was missing something.

Snapping my attention to the space just behind him, I watched the darkness expand as the smoky, dark tentacles spread toward the roof of the cage. I could remember a time when they had been real, pulsing and slick. What was he doing?

“I need you, sweetheart. Look at me,” he said, attempting to draw my attention away from the horror unfolding before me.

The tentacles moved around him, unrestrained by the cage, pushing through the bars, reaching, searching for something only they understood.

A branch beneath my feet cracked, and the tentacles of darkness pulsed once before turning their eyeless forms in my direction. When they surged forward, a scream bubbled up through me, erupting from my mouth as they grabbed my body and lifted me from the forest floor.

“Come home to me, Darcey. I need you.” Mannan reached for me once more.

“Go to Hell,” I said, fighting against his creature’s grip on me.

“Already there, sweetheart. Now it’s your turn.” His tone was twisted in cruelty, and the tentacles tightened like hundreds of iron bands wrapping around my body, crushing me beneath their weight.

“Time to share,” he said, and the tentacles’ tips were suddenly covered in hundreds of tiny mouths, each filled with razor-sharp teeth that, at his command, struck my skin and bit deep into my flesh.

Pain tore at me, and what little power I had left flowed toward the creature that was attempting to drain me.

Something heavy hit my chest, and a large yowl cut through the sounds of slurping coming from Mannan’s creature.

My eyes sprang open, and I found myself staring up into the large, green eyes of the ginger terrorist, as she was still known. Sweat clung to my body, drenching my T-shirt. Picking up the kitten, I cradled her against my chest, stroking her soft fur in an attempt to slow the frantic beating of my heart.

I felt a burning sensation in the crooks of my elbows that intensified as the moments ticked by and my heart rate returned to normal. Reaching out to the bedside table, I flicked on the lamp. The kitten in my lap gave another pitiful meow as we both stared down at the perfectly round bites from hundreds of tiny puncture marks that slowly oozed blood down my arms. Seeing them on my skin stirred memories I had thought were long buried.

The kitten pawed at my chest, and I stroked her head gently.

“Thank you,” I said, staring down into her green eyes. The fae weren’t supposed to use those words, but when we did they meant something. She meowed again, and something intelligent and utterly unkitten-like crossed through her gaze. It was gone in a flash, but I had seen it—and it wasn’t the first time.

Smiling, I tickled her beneath the chin. “Wherever you came from—and don’t tell Samira I said this, we don’t want her thinking I’ve gone soft—I’m sure glad you found your way here…”

The kitten purred her satisfaction and started making biscuits through my thin cotton T-shirt. It was comforting to both of us, but it didn’t shake the gnawing fear lurking at the edges of my mind. It had been a dream, and at the same time it had felt real. Not just that, but I also had the marks of Mannan’s beast on my arms. That alone should have been impossible.

Cradling the kitten a little closer, I fought against the exhaustion that washed through me. But fighting was futile, and I eventually lost, my eyes fluttering shut as my fears over Mannan’s incarceration closed in.

Chapter Two

"We are not calling her Fuzzikins,” I said, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

The last thing the kitten needed was a chip on her shoulder. She already had a serious attitude problem, and I wasn't going to be responsible for adding to that by calling her something ridiculous. Names were a serious business—they held power. I dreaded to think what kind of power ‘Fuzzikins’ could possibly hold.

As I hefted the ancient book in my hands and drew my legs underneath myself in a cross-legged position, dust fluttered down between my fingers and onto the floor.

The books scattered around me were older than I was, passed down through the hands of the banshees. The oldest of the books, their spines cracked with use, were made from the skin of my ancestors. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant thought, but it didn’t change the fact that these books were some of the most powerful in existence.

Some of them were just a mere recording of our history; others spoke of magic long-since lost. It was the lost magic that I was most interested in.

The power that lay within Samira’s collar wasn't something to be trifled with. I'd already attempted to open it with the Bone Blade, and that had been a failure of epic proportions. I could still remember the smell as the collar burned into the delicate skin on Samira’s neck.

Gently gripping the next page between my gloved index finger and thumb, I turned it and the paper crackled in protest. The books wanted to be read; I could feel their need beating against my skin like thousands of tiny wings. It was the reason I’d insisted Samira stay upstairs while the books were out. I was careful to keep them inside the safe and away from prying eyes and fingers, the locks spelled so that only I could open them. Allowing them to fall into the wrong hands would be devastating in more ways than one.

The knowledge contained inside the pages was far too powerful for the mortal world. Of course, locking them away didn't stop the books themselves from ageing.

A day would come when the pages became impossible to turn; what I would do then, if I was alive to see it, was a bridge I would have to cross when I came to it. Perhaps there was a spell to prevent the ageing process?

"Why not?" Samira said, making her way down the steps into the basement. The wet rag she was using to clean the fingerprint dust left behind by the cops was gripped tightly in her hand. "She likes the name Fuzzikins, don't you, sweetheart?" She directed her comment at the orange terrorist curled into a ball in the corner of the basement.

At the sound of Samira’s voice, the kitten raised her head and meowed plaintively before lowering it again. “Oh, you don't like being woken up?” I said grumpily. “Now you know how I felt last night when you couldn’t make up your mind if you wanted to go in or out of the room…Next time, I’ll sing you the song of my people and see how you like it."

The kitten glared at me, her brilliant green eyes glinting in the half-light of the basement. At times when I looked at her, I swore she knew exactly what I was saying. And not just in the cutesy animal way—sometimes the intelligence in her gaze was more than it should be for a ball of orange fluff.

The moment the thought popped into my head, I remembered the look she’d given me last night when she’d woken me from the nightmare that was more than just a nightmare. The bite marks itched against the sleeves of my shirt, and it took all of my willpower not to drag the fabric out of the way and tear at them. But doing that would only raise questions I couldn’t answer.

“Hell no,” I said again to Samira. "My word is final. We are not calling her something ridiculous. And the books are still out, so you can’t be down here.”

Samira’s laughter trailed away as she moved back up the stairs, leaving me once more with the books and the kitten.

As I stared down at the page, my eyes refused to focus and the words seemed to swim across the yellowed parchment. My stomach chose that moment to growl its protest at my lack of breakfast.

"Nope," I said, closing the book softly and replacing it on top of the precarious pile next to me. “I don't suppose anything is going to get done on an empty stomach."

The kitten’s gaze had gone from one of irritation to interest, and I couldn't stop the smile that curled my lips. There was definitely more going on inside her little fluffy orange head than I'd first believed possible.

I pushed onto my feet and stretched, pressing my hands above my head as I lifted up onto my toes. My bones finally cracked and popped into place, and I let out a sigh of relief. I caught sight of the iron blades left atop my desk and quickly squashed the feeling of guilt that flooded me. Training was something I had done every day since my banishment from Faerie. But after everything that had happened with MacNa, I just couldn't bring myself to use my knives.

I could still remember the look of surprise on MacNa’s face, the way the light had died in his eyes. It haunted my dreams, making sleep almost impossible. We might not have been friends anymore, but he hadn’t deserved to die that way. The Mother of the Hunt had put him down as though he were nothing more than a rabid dog…

Shaking my head, I pushed aside the thoughts, which weren't going to help me solve the issue of removing Samira’s collar. And dwelling on my own feelings of guilt surrounding his death definitely wasn't going to get me food any faster.

I darted to the stairs and paused, staring down at the orange fluff ball. She had somehow beaten me to it and sat waiting for me on the steps, almost as though she knew exactly what I had planned on doing. Moving toward her, I let my hand brush against the top of her head, and she purred contentedly. "Don't worry, you’ll get fed too,” I said.

The kitten bounced up the steps ahead of me as if she were on springs and disappeared into the main office. I followed quickly, stopping only to close the basement door. After slamming the thick iron bolt into place, I hooked the padlock, satisfied that Samira wouldn't get inside.

Nothing was getting inside the basement without my say-so.

Making my way out of the main office area, I spotted Samira brushing dust from the windowsill and looking so lost in thought that she apparently hadn’t heard me approach. The kitten meowed and Samira jumped, spinning around to face me.

"Did you find something?" she asked expectantly as my guilt came flooding back.

I’d been searching for days and hadn’t found so much as a peep of the type of magic used to seal the collar on Samira. If I didn't find something soon, I was pretty sure she would lose hope.

Then there was the small issue of the Noree. Her patience would only last so long, not to mention what she would do to Samira if I couldn't find a way to get the collar off her safely…Well, she'd have to come through me first. Not like that would stop her. Coming through me was probably something she’d enjoy.

“Not yet, but we’ll figure it out," I said. “First we need to eat, and I heard there's a new deli across the street, my shout.” I grinned at her.

Samira had never been one to resist food, and I could see hunger winning out over the disappointment she so obviously felt about me not finding anything in the books.

"I'll keep an eye on Fuzzikins," she said.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my jacket from behind the door and dragged it on as I stepped out onto the street.

I moved quickly through the early afternoon shoppers surrounding me, the humans sidestepping me as though by instinct. Well, call it instinct or self-preservation—something inside them warned I wasn’t someone they wanted to be near. And that suited me just fine.

The deli was quiet, and for that I was grateful. My stomach grumbled loud enough to draw a smile from the woman behind the counter as she prepared four house specials and several sample boxes. Samira wasn’t going to eat more than half of the enormous amount of food I’d chosen for her since she had a tendency to eat like a bird. But what she didn’t eat, I would.

“Extra steak on the second one,” I said, watching as she laid the moist strips of meat across the thick granary bread. I wasn’t an animal, but the extra protein would go a long way toward keeping my powers in check, especially when I hadn’t indulged my true nature in well over a week.

The moment I thought about how much time had passed since I had fed my power, my shoulders tightened in response. I could feel the power prickling beneath my skin like an itch I couldn’t quite reach. It was irritating but still manageable, which would all change if I didn’t hunt soon.

After paying the cashier, I took the paper bag she passed to me and hurried outside. Lifting my face to the sky, I let the scent of the coming rain wash over me. Clary’s seedling would need to be fed soon, and rainwater wouldn’t quite do the trick.

I crossed the street back to the office and pushed open the door.

“There was too much to choose from so I brought a selection…” My words trailed off as the smile on my face froze.

The stranger had his back to me, but it did nothing to mask his pine-and-fur scent, which drifted across the room on the air-conditioned current. An image of sharp, snapping white teeth and fiery amber eyes flashed through my head, and I drank it in.

A true predator in the animal sense.

I kept my gaze trained on him as he turned to meet my stare. His too-bright brown eyes raked over me as I stood in the doorway, as if I were the intruder to his territory and not the other way around. The scar that trailed from the corner of his right eye, down across his cheek, and to the edge of his lip did nothing to detract from his raw, animalistic good looks. His dark brown hair was a little longer than normal, and it curled softly against the collar of his shirt. A Mallen streak of silvery hair flopped down into his eyes as his gaze met mine and his smile slowly froze.

His nostrils flared as realisation dawned in his hooded gaze. He crossed the room, a blur of speed that left me no time to move out of his way. His hard, sculpted body crashed into mine, sending us tumbling to the wooden floorboards in a tangle of limbs.

A snarl started in his chest, and I felt it reverberate up through his body and out his lips as he crushed me beneath his weight.

“If I had known what you were, I never would have darkened the door,” he said, his barely controlled rage adding a ragged growl to his words.

I stared up into his face, and the urge to trace my fingers down the scar on his cheek was almost overwhelming. Christ, he was like sex on legs…

“Nice to meet you too,” I said, my voice husky.

Shifters could be right assholes, but from the pheromones rolling off him I knew he wasn’t just any old shifter.

He dropped his face to my neck, drawing my scent in through his nose as he growled again, the sound strange as he forced it out through his still-human face.

“I smell you, harbinger, and I know what you are. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip out your throat…”

“I can think of several, but”—I pressed one of my silver blades against the ragged pulse beating in his throat—“here’s one really good one.”

Surprise lit his eyes, and I couldn’t stop the small frisson of excitement spiking my heart rate. The darker side of my nature wanted to play with him, to taste his skin, to lick the tiny beads of sweat that had gathered at the side of his neck before indulging in something much more carnal.

“What do you want, wolf?” I asked, pressing the blade against him with just enough force to draw forth a tiny bead of crimson blood.

“You’re faster than I thought you’d be,” he said, “but not stronger…”

He wrapped his hand around mine, engulfing in his grip, by extension, the handle of the blade. He effortlessly pushed both my arm and the blade down toward the floor.

His strength and sheer raw power sent another thrill of desire shooting through my core. He was right about one thing: I wasn’t as strong as he was, particularly in the position I found myself in, but I was definitely fast, and being a harbinger had taught me a trick or two.

He stilled the moment he felt the press of my second blade against his vulnerable underbelly.

“Fast, sweetheart? You have no idea how fast I can be.” My voice was silky-smooth as my lips twisted into a cruel smirk. I had him, and he knew it.

Slowly, he released my hand and pushed away the knife I had pressed against his stomach, his show of strength suggesting he had muscles beneath his skin that no mere human had. The moment his weight disappeared, I wriggled out from underneath him and eyed him carefully as he hopped to his feet.

“How do you know what I am?” he asked, the predator lurking just beneath his surface watching me through his human eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Your witch friend didn’t guess, and I’ve worked very hard to keep my nature buried where it belongs.”

As I climbed to my feet, a burst of laughter escaped me. He couldn’t honestly be serious, could he? Taking in the deliberate set of his jaw and the irritation that lit his eyes as he realised I was laughing at him, I knew he was being deadly serious.

Suppressing the rest of my laughter, I did my best to school my features into a blank expression. But from the glare Samira gave me over the stranger’s shoulder, I knew I was failing miserably.

With a sigh, I let my shoulders drop. “Look, what does it matter? I just know, probably the same way you know what I am. Knowing these things doesn’t make you any more welcome here, so you either tell me why you’re here or I’ll be forced to toss your ass out on the street.”

He opened his mouth as though he was going to continue arguing with me, but at the last moment his shoulders drooped and he released his breath. Resignation and barely contained rage played across his features as he fought to control his temper and the alpha within.

Whatever was wrong was clearly really bad. Wolves normally couldn’t put aside their meaner, more animalistic nature, especially not alphas. In fact, I was pretty sure that was almost unheard of except in life-or-death situations.

“I need help, and I was told you were the one to come to. Of course, if I had known you were a harbinger, I would never have darkened your door.”

“You said that already. Who told you I could help?”

“The Noree.”

Her name sent a shiver of fear down my spine. I still had no way of getting the collar off Samira, and Noree wouldn’t wait forever. If I didn’t come up with a solution soon, she would find her own way and, knowing her, preserving Samira’s life wouldn’t come at the top of her priority list.

It didn’t help that she also wanted my tears for some nefarious purposes, and considering what had happened in the Between with my tears and Clary’s essence, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to blindly hand them over to her.

Watching my tears bring Clary’s essence to life definitely wasn’t something I’d been expecting, but I had a feeling that Noree knew far more than I did.

But Noree wouldn’t have sent the wolf to me lightly. If she believed I was the only one left to help him, then his situation was truly dire. Did I really need to add another thing to my already full plate?

“What do you need?” I asked, tucking one of my blades into the hidden sheath at my back. I kept the other one out—agreeing to hear the wolf’s story didn’t mean I would take on his case, and most clients didn’t try and get the drop on me in our first meeting. With a predator as dangerous as I suspected he was, I wouldn’t take chances.

“You’ll help?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and his momentary lapse softened his expression, making his already extremely pleasant face that much easier on the eyes.

“I haven’t decided that bit yet, but I will listen. For now, that’s all I can promise you.”

Surreptitiously keeping him in my line of sight, I bent to pick up the bag of deli food from where I’d tossed it on the floor when he’d tackled me.

“You willing to share any of that?” he asked hopefully, eyeing the bag in my hand.

Rolling my eyes, I nodded. Typical bloody wolves—give them half an opportunity, and they would eat you out of house and home.

Chapter Three

Cleaning my fingers on the napkins the deli had provided, I watched in awe as the wolf finished the second fully loaded roast beef melt. If I hadn’t been watching him with my own eyes, I might have wondered if he was part snake shifter. Their ability to unhinge their jaws to swallow prey much larger than their heads was disconcerting, to say the least. But Byron, as I had discovered was the wolf’s name, was simply a half-starved lone alpha wolf determined to help his brother.

“And you said your brother is also an alpha?” I asked, suddenly certain I’d misheard that part of Byron’s tale of woe.

“Yeah,” he said, scooping up a stray piece of roast beef from his sandwich wrapper and hand-feeding it to the ginger terrorist.

She purred loudly and made tiny kitten biscuits against the leg of his jeans as she stared up at him adoringly.

“Traitor,” I muttered beneath my breath. Weren’t cats supposed to hate dogs? He might be a wolf, but as far as I was concerned, there really wasn’t much difference between Byron and my neighbour’s Chihuahua.

“What?” Byron glanced back at me.

“How is that possible?” I said, choosing to ignore the ginger terrorist’s betrayal.

“That my brother and I can coexist?”

I nodded.

“It’s the reason I became a lone wolf. I gave up my claim to the pack, my right to a family, my right to rule.”

“Your right to happiness,” Samira added, staring at Byron with the same adoring expression as the kitten had.

“What happiness could I ever hope to achieve if I had to murder my brother to get it?”

“You’re certain he wouldn’t have murdered you?” I dipped my finger into the salt left on my paper plate and licked it from my finger.

Samira gave me another dirty look. I was really going to need to have a chat with her once Byron left us alone.

“My brother is an excellent fighter and a true alpha to his pack, but I’m certain he would not have been able to murder me in combat…”

Something about his certainty left me with the strange feeling that his brother might not be as great a leader as Byron made him out to be. If he was right, and his brother would have fallen beneath his jaws during the Testing, then the pack did not truly have the strongest leader.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong,” he said. “I am stronger, but I lack the qualities of a leader. My father always agreed that I was made for war. A warrior, but not a king.”

What a strange thing for his father to say. I couldn’t imagine being brought up knowing I would have to kill any siblings who threatened my right to rule. I might not like what I was, but as I sat across from Byron I couldn’t help but feel grateful that I hadn’t been born into a wolf pack.

“So, just like that, you gave it all up?” I folded my arms across my chest as I leaned back in my chair.

Byron’s shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly, and his expression hardened as he met my gaze head-on. He was definitely hiding something, but unless I found a way to make him spill his guts I wouldn’t find out the truth.

“Just like that,” he said, the edge of a growl tainting his words.

With a shake of my head, I pushed to my feet and dusted off my hands. “Look, I can appreciate you wanting to help your brother, but you’re not being honest with me. And I’m not willing to work with someone who can’t, or won’t, tell me the truth.”

“Darcey, you can’t—” Samira started to say, but I cut her off.

“I can and I have, Samira. Unless Byron here is willing to be honest with me, there’s nothing I can do.”

He stared up at me from his seat, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

“You really won’t help me, even if it means lives will be lost?”

“Look, you haven’t even told me what you’re having problems with other than a few wolves going rogue. And you said yourself that you and your brother hunted them down.”

He didn’t say anything, so I took it as a cue to add, “I’ve trusted people before who didn’t tell me the truth, and I came way too close to buying the goddamn farm to do it again. The choice is yours…”

He nodded and climbed wearily to his feet. “I’ve always known your kind was cruel, but I didn’t realise just how heartless you could be until now.”

“Darcey, maybe you could just think about it,” Samira pleaded. “I mean, he seems pretty desperate.”

“Don’t trouble yourself on my account,” Byron said, addressing Samira as though I weren’t even in the room. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he added without a hint of irony as he headed for the exit.

Samira’s eyes betrayed her distress, and I stepped out of the main office and made my way to the spelled door that hid the stairs to the basement before she could continue pleading with me. If given the opportunity, someone like Byron would use her soft-hearted nature to get what he wanted. I’d seen the way wolves worked before, and the moment they discovered weakness they needled at it until their objectives were fulfilled.

Retaking my place on the floor in the middle of the books scattered across the room, I resumed my search for a way to remove Samira’s collar.

“How could you do that?” she demanded, her footsteps heavy on the staircase as she clattered down it and came to a halt in front of me.

“How could I do what?” I asked, choosing ignorance. Perhaps if I played dumb long enough, she would get bored, return to the office, and stop bothering me, at least until the alpha wolf pheromones wore off.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Darcey. He came to you for help, and you rejected him like you would a common criminal.”

Her tone was so impassioned that I couldn’t help but risk a quick glance at her face. The emotions swirling through her dark eyes surprised me. There had to be way more than just wolf pheromones at play. I’d seen others lose their heads over alphas before—sexual attraction was kind of their thing. Hell, I’d even seen people fall in love with them when they spent enough time with them. It was part of their power, their lure, and they used it to keep their pack under control. But I’d never seen it happen this fast, which led me to believe Byron was much more than just a run-of-the-mill alpha wolf.

“Not a common criminal—a liar. I can’t take the risk, for me and now for you.”

“The risk of what?”

“Look, it’s as simple as this: he’s holding something back, and clearly it’s big enough, and most probably bad enough, that he won’t share it with me. I learned my lesson a long time ago not to get caught up with anyone whose secrets were darker than my own.”

She opened her mouth to argue further, but I shook my head and returned to staring down at the book in my lap.

“Then if you won’t help him, I will…” Samira said, storming back up the stairs.

“Uh, no!” I clambered to my feet and went after her.

She paused on the top step and glowered down at me. For a woman who claimed to have been on the planet for almost fifty years, she still behaved just like the teenager she appeared to be. Maybe her magic did more than just slow her appearance from ageing. Perhaps it also slowed her ability to mature and become a rational person.

“I don’t need your permission,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and staring daggers at me as though reading my thoughts.

“No, but I made a promise to keep you safe, and I hate to break it to you, but witches and wolves really don’t mix. You’ll end up getting yourself killed if you go after him.” A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach warned that I had just talked myself into some hole, one that Samira would have no problem using against me.

Samira whirled away and stormed back into the office, leaving me alone in the basement. Well, not entirely alone—the kitten sat on the top step Samira had just vacated. She glared down at me, her expression suggesting I had personally offended her.

“Don’t tell me you’re pissed too?” I said.

The kitten stood and sniffed the air with disdain before turning on her dainty paws and disappearing back into the office with Samira, who was slamming things around.

Clomping back down the stairs, I dropped onto the floor and dragged a book back onto my lap, but questions swirled in my mind and my brain refused to cooperate as I tried to read the ancient words and spells, making it almost impossible to translate them.

Noree had sent the wolf here for a reason. She wanted Samira’s collar, and I knew for a fact that she wouldn’t risk distracting me from giving it to her unless it was important.

“Shit,” I muttered, and slammed the book closed.

Every one of my instincts told me to leave Byron and his problems alone. But the more I thought about it, the more I concluded that his problems would probably become mine sooner or later anyway. Better to stay ahead of the curve.

Chapter Four

Samira had practically cried with happiness when I’d told her where I was going, which had made me think I’d made the right choice. But now that I was actually out of the office and attempting to track down the bloody wolf, I was beginning to regret my decision. The city was filled with so many scents that tracking him was getting harder and harder. A fae’s nose just wasn’t a match for a dog…

“Gotta stop calling him that,” I said beneath my breath as I pulled my hood over my head. The rain pattered on the pavement around me, distorting the street noises.

Something grabbed my elbow and jerked me into a dark alley. I felt a moment of blind panic and drew my knife in record speed only to find my arms pinned above my head as a hulking shape crushed me to the dirty bricks of the alley wall. A whiff of pine and the musky scent of wolf filled my nose, and I stopped fighting.

“We need to stop meeting like this,” I whispered against Byron’s ear, my breath caressing his skin. Christ, what was wrong with me? I wasn’t normally like this—smartass, maybe, but not flirty—and it didn’t fit with who I was at my core. Harbingers didn’t flirt. Impending death had the terrible habit of destroying the mood, so to speak.

He jerked his head back, and his eyes momentarily flashed gold as the headlights of a car cut through the rain and illuminated his face.

“What are you doing?” he said without releasing me. The intense heat from his body soaked through the front of my black jacket and dark grey jeans, warming my skin in ways I hadn’t experienced since…

Not since Mannan.

The crush of his lips, the punishing grip of his hands on my throat, the feel of his body thrusting…

I immediately squashed the memory of Mannan back down into the box where I kept the rest. What was wrong with me? I hadn’t thought of him like this in years, so why now, all of a sudden, were so many memories surfacing like bloated bodies given back by the water.

My chest constricted, and I pushed at Byron with a strangled yelp, using my hips and chest to buck him away from my body. He released me as quickly as he’d grabbed me, concern flitting through his gaze as he raised his hands in surrender.

“Are you all right? I’m sorry, I didn’t…” He trailed off as though suddenly remembering that alphas didn’t apologise, even if they were behaving like complete assholes.

“Didn’t what?” I spat the words. “Didn’t mean to assault a woman in a dark alley?” I regretted the harsh words the minute they left my mouth. This wasn’t me; I wasn’t the snappy, accusatory type, especially not when I’d initially played along. No, there was definitely something going on, and I needed to get to the bottom of it sooner rather than later.

“It wasn’t like that…You were following me, and…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I really haven’t got time for this.” He turned to walk away, but I grabbed his arm before he could leave.

“Look, we can call it quits and start over,” I said. Apologising to an alpha was a dangerous thing, and considering how volatile Byron seemed to be, I wasn’t going to run the risk with him and make him think for even a second that I was submissive to him. If I wanted him to believe anything, it was that we were equals.

He stared at me for a moment as though weighing the pros and cons before finally nodding. “Fine, but no more following me.”

“That I can’t promise,” I said, giving him a wide grin, “especially if we work together. I might need to follow you sometimes depending on how stupid you actually turn out to be.”

A low growl escaped his throat, but it only served to widen my grin. “Feeling a little touchy?”

“Are you always this”—he paused, searching for the right word—“abrasive?”

“Abrasive? I prefer honest, but that’s just me. The fae can’t lie, after all, but no such rules bind wolves.”

He watched me for another moment before the ghost of a smile crossed his face. “I’ve never worked with the fae before. I heard you’re untrustworthy, nothing but glorified tricksters.”

I shrugged and brushed the brick dust from my black jacket. “Many of us could be called that, but I find the usual games the fae play to be tiresome and an utter waste of my time.”

“Good to hear. I despise time-wasters.”

“And yet here we stand, idling the minutes away when we could be getting to the bottom of what has the wolves turning loco.”

Byron nodded curtly and turned on his heel, gesturing back over his shoulder as he walked away. “Come, then.”

His tone grated on me—well, that and his complete confidence that I would simply fall into step behind him. I watched him disappear down the alley before huffing out a long breath. “Bloody wolves,” I muttered as I narrowed my eyes in his direction and trotted after him. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I could have sworn I heard a short chuckle escape him. The asshole, it seemed, knew exactly what he was doing. Well, we would see just who had the last laugh.

* * *

I caught up to him as he exited the other end of the alley and found myself on an unfamiliar street in an area of town I rarely visited.

I drew a deep breath, my step faltering as I caught the strong whiff of wet dog and wolf musk. It came from every direction and hung heavy in the air, stinging the back of my throat and causing my eyes to water.

“Why here?” I said, keeping my voice low. I could have simply mouthed the words to him and he would have heard me, such was the strength of a wolf’s hearing. While in Faerie, I’d heard plenty of tales of their abilities; there was even a rumour that the wolves were descended from a fae, much like the heart hounds were brought to existence by the Mother of the Hunt. The moment I thought her name, a shudder ran through me. If I was certain of anything, it was that Auriella had not one ounce of maternal instinct in her. Calling her the mother of anything seemed wrong.

“Because I have something you need to see,” he said, picking up his pace to a jog. “Hurry, harbinger. If the other wolves pick up your scent out here on your own, your pretty face and speed won’t save you.”

He was right. The humans feared me, staying out of my way and hiding their faces when I called my warning in the night, and yet they needed me, needed the time I gave them to prepare. The wolves, on the other hand, had a sixth sense when it came to harbingers, and their fears drove them to destroy us in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. I didn’t want to put a pack of wolves, or even Byron, to the test.

I darted to catch up to him as he disappeared behind one of the houses on the street. When I caught up to him, he was standing on the back porch, which was bathed in darkness. I sensed a tension in the air, as though fate itself was waiting for the hammer to fall.

Byron stepped through the open screen door and was swallowed by the thick darkness within the house. Hesitating, I stood on the back steps and strained for any traces of sound. Despite having better hearing than a human, I couldn’t detect anything. Glancing around, I contemplated closing my eyes, but my instincts screamed of the danger of such a move. Wolves were stealthy, and while a part of me wanted to believe I would hear or sense one sneaking up on me, I wasn’t so egotistical to believe it true.

“Harbinger, are you coming or not?” Byron’s gruff voice came from the depths of the house, and I clenched my fists to stop myself from jumping. Some harbinger I would be if I startled at every big bad wolf who called me into the dark.

Steeling myself, I sucked in a deep breath and crossed the threshold. The air around me seemed to pop, and I paused, the tension in the atmosphere settling on my shoulders once more.

After allowing my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, I moved further into the house, the smell of wet dog soaking through every pore in my body. The urge to retch washed over me, and I squashed it down. There was death here. It hung in the air, its limp, lifeless scent pervading every surface and creature that moved within the walls.

“What is this place, wolf?” I asked, addressing Byron not by name but by the animal he was.

Something felt terribly wrong here, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. But it unnerved me, and I wanted nothing more than to turn tail and escape out into the night.

“You will see,” he said, his amber eyes peering out of the darkness at me. They were the only thing I could make out in the thick gloom, only because they appeared to be lit from within by a power all their own. Deep down, I knew it was simply a trick of the low light that was filtering in through the windows, but it did nothing to quell the anxiety hammering away at my insides.

I followed his gentle footfalls across the wooden floors to a doorway that led down into a darkness so thick I was sure I would choke on it if I breathed it in. We descended in near silence. The further down we went, the more I felt Byron’s tension ratchet up.

My body jolted when I stepped onto what I thought was another step but turned out to be a compacted dirt floor. The smell of wet dog was stronger here, and laid over it was the scent of faeces, the pungent aroma of ammonia, and the unmistakable scent of putrefaction and coming death.

“Wolf, I go no further until you tell me what you’re leading me into,” I said, scrubbing my palms down the sides of my jeans to rid myself of the slickness that had gathered there.

I heard an almost inaudible click before the space flooded with a soft yellow light. Even though the bulb’s glow was gentle, my eyes screamed against the sudden shock.

“Shit,” I muttered, scrubbing my hand over my face as what little night vision I’d had was utterly destroyed. Bright blobs danced in my vision, and I fought to blink them away as the agonised moans of the others occupying the basement met my ears.

Metal shifted, the unmistakable clink of heavy shackles, and I drew my attention to the back wall. The area was split into what looked like stalls, the straw spread across the floor adding to the whole barn effect. But instead of seeing cows and horses, I looked in horror at the seven people chained up. Or at first glance they appeared to be humanlike, but the claws, elongated fingers and toes, and extended muzzles where their human mouths and jaws should have been reminded me of something from a B-rated horror movie.

Some of the more human-looking ones were slumped against the back wall. One woman in particular seemed to be attempting to make her shivering, naked body as small as possible.

“Why are they like this?” I asked.

“I told you, there is a sickness spreading through them, forcing them into the change,” Byron said, his voice strained.

Turning to face him, I could see in his eyes a mixture of disgust and pity. The pity I could understand, given their suffering, but why disgust too?

“What is it?” I searched his face for a way to gauge his reaction.

“If I knew the answer to that, do you think I would have brought you here?” His words grew clipped as a growl of frustration erupted from him.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly, turning my attention back to the wolf-humans moaning in agony in response to his growl.

The wolf-man nearest me lunged in my direction, his muzzle snapping shut mere inches from my face. But what disturbed me far more was that his muzzle was filled with what appeared to be human teeth and not the wolf canines I’d expected.

“Jesus,” I said, taking a stumbling step backwards.

“Don’t get too close. They bite, and it seems to be contagious through the saliva.” Byron tugged me further out of reach.

“I don’t think that’s something I have to worry about,” I said, gently pulling my arm free of his grip. He was so engrossed in staring at the lost pack members that he didn’t even notice my movement.

“When did it start,” I asked, “and who did it start with?”

“Huh?” he said, looking momentarily confused. “Right, sorry, my brother said it started a few days after the last full moon. One of the wolves was found in the woods in human form, his body badly cut up. We can heal practically anything so long as there’s no silver in the wound. But even after getting cleaned up, the guy still wasn’t able to heal.”

“Which one was he?” I asked, moving along the row of half-changed wolf-humans.

“He’s dead,” Byron said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Those chained to the wall still picked up on his words, and their collective howls of anguish filled the air, making it almost impossible to not cower before them and cover my ears to prevent my eardrums from getting perforated.

Whirling to face Byron, I searched his face for any clues, but his expression was utterly shuttered. He wasn’t giving anything away.

“Are you going to make me ask?” I said, placing my hands on my hips.

“He’d shifted in an attempt to heal his wounds, but it didn’t work, and instead of shifting back he became almost rabid. There was no controlling him.”

“So what, your brother just killed him?” I asked.

Byron shook his head. “No,” he said. “When my brother invited me into the pack, I put down the wolf who had brought the sickness into it.”

“You murdered him?” I asked. Now it was my turn to keep the emotion hidden from my voice and expression. Unlike some of my fae brethren, though, it wasn’t a talent I was particularly adept at.

Byron gave me a smile, but it was more a baring of his teeth, and I could already imagine him in wolf form. He would be formidable for certain, and I had the sudden urge to ask him what colour his pelt was. Cramming the feeling down inside me, I raised an eyebrow in his direction. The smile slowly faded from Byron’s face, and his shoulders slumped.

“Yes, if you want to call it that. I murdered him. What was I supposed to do? One alpha doesn’t invite another in without consequences. And anyway, he was crazed, a danger to everyone else, because he no longer listened to the commands of his alpha.”

Tilting my head to the side, I studied him. He wasn’t lying, that I was certain of, and his words intrigued me. What kind of consequences could he possibly be talking about? My knowledge about wolves was scant, to say the least, and the more time I spent with Byron, the more I was beginning to think I was in way over my head.

“You’re going to have to help me out here and explain a few things,” I said, keeping my voice placating. I could still feel the others’ anguish over the loss of a pack member, and it bit into my skin like thousands of razor-sharp needles.

Byron grunted a response and turned his back on me. He ran his hands over his face and back through his hair, pushing his Mallen streak from his eyes and causing other strands to stand on end. I realized I could feel more than just the pack members’ anguish. Byron’s own guilt and pain gnawed at him, slowly chipping away at his resolve.

“When the Noree said I could help you,” I said, “what did she tell you…I need her exact words.”

“She talks too much. I cannot remember everything.” He shook his head.

“Try, Byron. This is important.”

“Why? Why is it so important that I remember the exact words of a rambling witch who turned out to be no help at all?” He turned on me with the speed borne of his animal.

“Because I am the harbinger. I do not cause death; I warn of its coming. Or at least I used to, and when the dying have crossed over I mourn their passing, giving power to the ones left behind so that they might live knowing the dead have been honoured.” I sighed and let my shoulders droop. “There was a time when I could turn Death away, but only when the passing was unnatural. But it has been a long time since I attempted it, and my power is not what it was.”

“It feels fine to me,” Byron said, moving slowly in my direction. Something about the way he crossed the floor instantly set my alarm bells ringing. I held my ground—if I backed away from him now, no matter how much the voice in the back of my head encouraged me, he would have the upper hand. And he already seemed way too out of control for something like that.

“You are not me, wolf, and you know nothing of what my power once was.” I deliberately kept my muscles loose. If he tried anything, at least I would be ready for it, my body primed for action.

He paused in front of me, and I saw a glint of the beast that lurked beneath the surface. His thick, musky scent invaded my senses, and the heat radiating from his body warmed me to my very core. The memory of his touch danced along the edges of my mind, making me want to close the gap between us.

Byron leaned in close, his face practically touching mine as he breathed my scent deep into his nose.

“You do not fear me?” He couldn’t keep the surprise from his face as I met his gaze with defiance.

“Why would I?”

“Because most people fear what I will do to them. When I killed the injured member of the pack, he reeked of fear. I can still taste its acrid flavour on my tongue.”

“He feared Death. I do not.”

“What do you fear?” he asked, leaning in even closer so that his warm breath fanned across my face.

My mind was instantly filled with the memory of Mannan. The crush of his lips, the blood in my mouth, the slick feel of his tentacles on my skin.

“Now you smell of fear,” Byron said, his voice a husky growl that rumbled low in his chest as his eyes went amber.

“What I fear is not up for debate. Suffice it to say that it’s not you.” I stepped into his body, forcing him to back up, allowing the breath of the gap between us to close.

Byron shuffled backwards, the light in his eyes fading, and I watched his claws retract back into his hands. Shit, I hadn’t even noticed it happening. He’d very nearly gotten the drop on me, and all because I’d allowed my mind to wander… something that was happening far too often for my liking.

Clearly, the situation with the wolf-human hybrids and the dreams I’d been having of Mannan had affected me far more than I’d been willing to admit.

“And there you go again.” Byron cut through my thoughts with his sharp tone.

“Nope, still very much here. You just haven’t answered my question. What did the Noree say?”

“She didn’t say to bring an abomination into the den,” a strange female voice said from somewhere behind me.

One of the floorboards of the stairs creaked, as though adjusting to a sudden thrust of weight. I whirled to the side, trusting my instincts. The space I stood in, which formed a corridor between the wall and the sick wolves, was too small to truly get out of the way of the small shape that leaped toward me, especially with Byron close enough that I could make out the stubble on his jaw.

Something solid slammed into my shoulder, spinning me off course and directly into the path of the male wolf with the human teeth. He lunged forward, the saliva in his maw trickling down the sides of his mouth and dripping onto the dirt floor with heavy plops. I tried to bring myself up short and halt my headlong fall, but he’d learned his lesson the first time. Instead of attempting to snap at me with just his teeth, his arms whipped out lightning fast and his clawed hands snagged my jacket before he jerked me toward his waiting mouth.

Chapter Five

“Heather! No!” Byron shouted, but his words came microseconds too late. The wolf-man already had me, his still-human teeth sinking into my shoulder, his powerful jaws biting down with the full force of a werewolf.

I felt the bone in my shoulder pop and crunch beneath his bite, and he worried at the wound, jerking my body back and forth the way a dog would play with a doll.

Power surged in my veins and I screamed, the sound filling the small space, bouncing off the walls as though magnified by whatever magic was keeping the house plunged in darkness. Only the work of a powerful witch could keep the sounds from within contained. As that thought passed through my mind, I quickly discarded it. That wasn’t going to save me.

The wolf-man released his hold on me, shifting his body over mine as he opened his mouth to snap his jaws over my throat. My injured arm refused to move properly, and I jammed one of my silver blades into his rear leg instead of his exposed underbelly. He howled in pain and skipped to the side, giving me the precious seconds I needed to crab-walk backwards out of his reach.

Strong arms grabbed me from beneath the wolf and carried me over to the relative safety of the other side of the basement. Raising my other blade, I prepared to defend myself, but Byron’s hand closed over my fist. The scent of burning flesh filled the air as his skin came into contact with the pure silver blade.

His mouth moved, but I couldn’t make out the words, my ears ringing with the anguished howls of anger and pain from the wolves still chained to the walls.

“Silence,” he bellowed, his voice rising above the howls, and I felt his power pulse through the room. The howls died away, replaced with a low, pitiful murmur of pain from those who were either too injured, too mad, or just too plain stupid to listen to him.

“Christ, I told you not to get too close,” he said, anger radiating from him as he propped me gently against the wall.

“Yeah, because that was really my intention. Someone pushed me.” I clenched my teeth as the shattered bones in my shoulder shifted against one another painfully.

He growled low under his breath and leaned closer to examine the wound. Shrugging away from his touch, I cradled my arm close to my body.

“Don’t, I’ll be fine,” I said with a wince as I moved, my body struggling to compensate against the wound.

I could feel my shoulder already attempting to heal, but the bones kept shifting as the muscle knit faster than they could.

“Is there nothing you can do?” Byron asked, watching me carefully, his expression closed.

“What, like shape shift into an animal?” I asked, my voice heavy with sarcasm. “I think you’ll find that’s not exactly my kind’s strength.”

“You should have let Timothy rip it apart,” a female voice said, the same female who had spoken just before I’d been pushed into the wolf-man.

I whipped my head around, biting back the pain that echoed through my body from my ruined shoulder, a snarl on my lips as I laid eyes on my would-be killer.

The bitch—and I felt confident in calling her that because I could feel the power of her beast as it roiled just beneath the surface of her human skin—stood near the stairs. She was petite, and her dark hair and large almond eyes transformed her from beautiful to utterly stunning with just a tilt of her chin. She tossed her head, and a shimmering mane of blue-black hair fell down her back in a waterfall of colour against her white shirt. She narrowed her delicate eyes in my direction, and I could feel her hatred for me rolling off her in waves. She looked at me as though I had personally offended her, as though we had already met and I should know who she was. But I didn’t.

Tension sang through Byron’s body, and I could feel his longing as he stared at her. The other half-changed wolf-men in the room whimpered and edged closer to her. Then, it hit me.

Closing my eyes, I drank in her scent. The sex pheromones she was releasing tickled the inside of my nose, and I sneezed as a burst of laughter escaped me. She was doing it on purpose—deliberately ratcheting up the tension in the basement, driving the males surrounding her into a sort of frenzy. I’d heard of sex appeal but apparently female werewolves took that to a whole new level.

Once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop. Maybe it was the pain, the panic, or the adrenaline still coursing in my veins from when I’d almost become werewolf chowder, but the laughter bubbled up from my core, causing me to rock despite the pain in my shoulder. I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks, and even then I couldn’t stop.

Byron shot me a look of concern, and the tension tightening his muscles eased. Struggling to hold back the laughter, I wiped at my face with my good hand.

“Don’t look at me like I’ve lost my mind,” I said to him.

“You’re behaving like someone losing her mind. The others didn’t react quite like this when they were infected, but they definitely didn’t behave sanely.” He reached out to me with his large hand.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as the were-bitch stiffened considerably. Her pheromones suddenly spiked high enough that my eyes started to water.

“Christ on a cracker, cut the bullshit already,” I said, moving out of Byron’s range as I gave the woman my full attention. “I’m not going to steal him from you.”

“What?” Her anger mingled with the sexual waves she was giving off.

“You want him, he’s yours,” I said, tilting my head in Byron’s direction.

If she thought I was trying to muscle in on her territory, then she was the mad one, not me, and Byron should have been worried about her sanity instead. I’d never met a female wolf before, but I’d definitely heard about them. They were rare, mainly because they didn’t survive the birth of their children. I’d heard that some gave birth to both pups and human babies, but I’d never seen it with my own eyes. And I really wasn’t sure I wanted to.

I’d also heard that they were extremely possessive, jealous, and tended to have anger issues. The longer I spent in the same room with the she-wolf, the more convinced I was of the truth of that particular rumour.

“We’re not an item,” Byron said, catching me off guard. I swivelled to face him, then realized my mistake as pain ripped through me once more, causing my vision to run in brightly coloured streamers.

Byron caught me, his grip gentle as he kept me on my feet. For that, I was grateful. At least he hadn’t tried to pick me up, which would have made me look even weaker in the eyes of the wolf-bitch. As soon as I had the opportunity, I was going to kick her ass. But first I needed to heal.

“I need you to take me to the Noree,” I said, digging my fingers into Byron’s arm hard enough that I could smell his blood on the air.

“She can help?” he whispered.

I nodded, but the motion turned my stomach. There was definitely something weird going on with the bite, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. All I knew was that the wolf had crushed my shoulder blade and possibly part of my collar bone.

“The sooner, the better,” I said, meeting his gaze, “especially if you want me to keep helping you.”

Byron nodded and kept a tight grip on me as he half-walked, half-carried me toward the stairs.

The wolf-bitch stared at me, her dark eyes swimming with hatred.

“Ash will hear of this, Byron,” she said.

“Let him. He asked me to help with the problem, and that’s what I’m trying to do. If my brother doesn’t like it, then he can rescind the invitation.”

Byron urged me upstairs ahead of him, each step pure agony as my shoulder struggled to heal itself. That was both the blessing and the curse of being fae—I healed much faster than a human, but bone still took longer than muscle. Normally it wasn’t an issue, but then my bones weren’t usually crushed.

My head lolled forward and the stairs rolled beneath me as a strong wave of pain swept over me, leaving my head reeling. The memory of my bone shards sliding beneath my skin caused me to retch.

How had I forgotten?

I hadn’t forgotten; I had just buried it with the other painful memories locked away in the dark recesses of my mind where they couldn’t hurt me.

“Submit to them, Darcey,” Lunn said. But when I snapped my head up, it wasn’t Lunn’s hand keeping me moving but Byron’s. Was I losing my mind? It certainly felt that way, and only one person could tell me for certain. She could do more than that too—she could tell me why the hell she’d told the wolf to ask me for help in the first place.

“Going to pass out now,” I said as we reached the top step.

“Fuck.” Byron pulled my jacket away from my shoulder. From his tone of voice, I knew that whatever he’d seen wasn’t good, but I didn’t have the strength to ask him about it.

“Don’t eat me,” I mumbled, the words sounding garbled even to my own ears as Byron’s pace picked up and the ground seemed to disappear from beneath my feet.

I felt the rumble of Byron’s voice, but his words never reached my ears. Instead, Mannan’s welcoming arms reached out for me, sucking me into the darkness and the sweet embrace of agony that only his love could bring.

Chapter Six

“Stupid girl.” Noree’s all-too-familiar voice called me back from the place where Mannan had left me.

The memory of what he had done to me was hazy, snippets of it coming back to me like wonky reception on a broken television.

“Wake up, lazy, stupid girl!” Pain accompanied Noree’s words as she ground her fingers into my healing shoulder. I pulled away from her touch with a hiss, but she pinned me to the couch, her grip surprisingly strong for a woman of her years. Despite her lack of eyes, I felt her gaze rake over me, assessing me, but I couldn’t quite tell whether she was checking to see if I had other injuries or simply trying to unnerve me.

“How did you let a wolf bite you? I thought someone like you would be able to stay out of reach of the dogs,” she said, leaning away from me. “Also, you smell…”

“Thanks.” I jerked free of her grip despite the pain in my shoulder. She let me go, and I pushed up into a sitting position. “You’re not such a delightful fragrance yourself,” I said. It was petty and utterly beneath me, but my head was throbbing and I had the overwhelming urge to go home and shower until every inch of my skin was raw but free of Mannan’s touch.

“But I do not smell of dog and”—she leaned in once more and sniffed the air around me—“rot. You smell of rot, death, and dying.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Ignoring her, I rolled my shoulder, wincing a little as I felt the tightness in my muscles.

“What did you do?” I asked, flexing my fingers and finding them slower than usual.

“Fixed you, and it wasn’t easy,” she said. “So don’t make it a habit.”

I raised an eyebrow in her direction; her intense dislike of me wasn’t exactly a secret, so how I was getting off so lightly was beyond me.

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t do it for you.” She smiled unpleasantly and turned her head to the side. I followed the direction of her sightless gaze and found Byron staring back at me. His expression was stony and dark, but something else I saw lurking in his eyes surprised me. If I didn’t know any better, I might have thought it was relief…but that was impossible, and I dismissed the thought as soon as it popped into my head. No way was a wolf relieved that I was all right.

“What did she make you promise her?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Nothing.” He pushed away from the wall.

His response stunned me, and I whirled to face Noree once more. “Nothing?” I repeated, my voice rising several octaves in surprise.

“I can be generous with my time, harbinger. Not everyone is my enemy.” She busied herself with the small box of bottles open on the table next to the sofa.

I shook my head—no way had she done such a huge favour for nothing in return. For as long as I had known the Noree, she was nothing but mercenary, always looking to see how a situation might benefit her. She must have wanted something from the alpha wolf, and knowing Noree she would ask for it at the most inopportune of times.

“You were poisoned,” she said, and her words shocked me out of my thoughts. Although they really shouldn’t have. I had been bitten by a wolf infected with something that was driving him insane. But I wasn’t a wolf, so why would I be effected?

“What was I poisoned with?” I asked, trying to keep my tone disinterested. Noree would only keep the information to herself if she thought I really needed it. She was that petty.

She smiled at me, a wide grin that showed off her sharpened tooth. Her single tooth had something to do with the kind of magic she practiced, but I’d never been able to figure out the connection. I’d once asked her what it meant, but she had merely tutted and told me to mind my business lest it fall into the hands of those who would use it against me.

“If I knew what it was, then I would have helped the wolf myself,” she said.

“But you cured me?” I asked. “Couldn’t you have done the same for them?”

“Cured you of their poison, yes. You are not one with the beast; your blood would have destroyed the poison on its own. Well, it should have destroyed it, but something has weakened you.” She raised an eyebrow above her empty sockets.

“You know the answer to that,” I said, my voice full of warning.

Noree sat back in her chair, her smile curling down at the corners. “I know what has turned you into this pathetic lump of self-loathing,” she said, gesturing to me. “But something else has weakened you, something much more recent.”

Her words struck a chord within me, and bile rose up the back of my throat. She thought something was wrong with me. The bites on the insides of my arms began to itch, and I fought the urge to tear at them, as though that alone would be enough to rid myself of Mannan’s touch.

He had touched me, and worse—he had used his creature to bite me, to mark me across the plains, something I had long thought impossible. Of course, to Mannan, ‘impossible’ was just a word—it held no power for him.

“And do you know what might be weakening me?” I asked, turning back to Noree.

She shook her head and steepled her fingers in front of her body. “No, I was hoping you might tell me.”

“You don’t trust me, so why should I trust you?”

Noree jerked her face up, and I could practically feel her phantom eyes raking over my face. “What makes you think I don’t trust you?”

“I don’t mean to break up this little reunion, as interesting as it is,” Byron interjected, “but I’ve got more pressing matters to deal with.”

A flash of annoyance crossed Noree’s usually impassable expression, and then it was gone as she turned to direct all of her irritation at Byron.

“I sent you to the harbinger to seek her aid in your predicament. I did not send you there to kill her.”

“And that was not my intention,” he answered, his voice tight with anger.

“Good. Don’t make me regret the decision.”

Pushing up from my chair, I moved toward Byron as he made his way toward the door. The Noree stood behind me, her gnarled hand whipping out to latch onto my shoulder so she could lean in to whisper in my ear.

“We must talk, and soon,” she said. “You are keeping the truth from me when you should be sharing it freely. It is not just you he will seek vengeance upon.”

Hesitating, I glanced back at her, but she nudged me toward the door. “Get out,” she said, “and the next time you darken my door, wolf, it better be with a token of your appreciation. I am getting older, and a woman of my years deserves to be spoilt.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Byron’s face before he disappeared down the stairs, but I heard his voice drifting back up after him. “Frumusețe niciodată vârstele dragă doamnă.”

“Don’t flatter me, boy,” Noree said, but despite her gruff voice I could tell that she was indeed flattered, which only served to further intrigue me. What was it about Byron that made her want to help him? Hell, what was it about him that made her want to help me? Even when she had worked for Mannan, I had never seen her so…flirtatious. The mere thought of Noree being flirtatious almost caused me to burst out laughing, but I quickly crushed it down inside where it could do no harm.

“What did he say?” I asked, but Noree sneered at me.

“Heed my words, girl. Come back as soon as you are able.” She pushed me out the door and onto the top step before I could further question her. The door slammed shut after me.

I jogged down the narrow stairs and emerged onto the street. The last time I’d been here, I’d been bringing Samira to the Noree for protection. “Shit, Samira,” I said, glancing down at my watch. Hours had passed since I’d left her at the office.

I searched my pockets for my cell phone, panic sparking in my chest when I came up empty. What if she’d been calling me? What if the bald, creepy witch hunters had come back?

“What’s wrong?” Byron asked.

“I can’t find my cell phone,” I said, checking the back pocket of my jeans.

“Noree dug it out of your pocket when I brought you to her. It was in bits…it must have happened when my guy got the drop on you.”

“For starters,” I said hotly, “your guy didn’t get the drop on me. I was pushed. And two, I really need to get back to the office.”

“You can borrow mine if you need to make a call.” Byron pulled out his own phone and held it out to me.

I shook my head. “No good, I can’t remember her number.” Getting Samira her own cell phone had been one of the first things we had done after stopping the hybrid. Well, that and getting her some clothes of her own so she didn’t have to wear mine, which were far too big.

“Really?” Byron asked. “You’re Death’s harbinger and you can’t remember a simple phone number?”

I shook my head. “Nope, magic doesn’t make me any more likely to remember things like numbers or names. Faces I can do, but that’s about it.” I closed my eyes and called upon the connection between me and my motorcycle.

“What’s wrong?” Byron asked, breaking my concentration.

“Nothing, I—” I cut off; it wasn’t really something I could explain. “I’m sorting transportation,” I said finally.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he said, and I stared at him in surprise.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“You’re not afraid of motorcycles, are you?” he asked. “You were totally out of it before, so you didn’t seem to mind.”

“A motorcycle?” I felt relieved. I hadn’t wanted to imagine how we’d gotten to Noree’s house.

“Yeah,” he said, giving me a sideways look, “how did you think we…” It was his turn to trail off, and he met my gaze with a grin. “You didn’t think I carried you here, did you?”

“No,” I said, but the image of him streaking through the city with me on his back as he went full-on wolf lingered inside my head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped, but he continued to grin at me. “I really need to get back to the office, so if you’re going to continue to look at me with that shit-eating grin on your face, I’ll catch my own ride.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, it’s just that for a second you looked like you were thinking…” He turned away from me with a chuckle. Without another word, he started down the street toward the alley that ran alongside Noree’s restaurant. I followed, and when I reached the mouth of the alley I couldn’t help the small sigh of satisfaction that escaped me.

“A Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R,” I said, my voice getting just a little breathy as I stared at the sleek body of the bike.

“You know your bikes,” Byron said, and for the first time since I’d met him he sounded pleasantly surprised.

“Enough to get by on.” I eyed the black and green paint job that made the bike look as though its sides had been scored by the claws of something large and angry.

Byron threw his leg over the seat and indicated for me to climb on. There wasn’t a whole lot of room—the bike wasn’t built for two people, and I had to wonder just how he had transported me to Noree’s with so little room to manoeuvre. At the end of the day, it was a bike built more for speed and sport than tooling around the city.

The bike roared to life beneath me, and I wrapped my arms around Byron’s waist. The lack of space meant I was crushed against him, and when I rested my cheek against his solid, muscular back I could hear his heartbeat. The steady rhythm passed through me, and I began to relax as the bike leaped forward and out of the alley.

Chapter Seven

The lights were still on in the office when Byron let the motorbike glide down the street. My stomach slowly settled as I caught sight of Samira through the window. Byron drew the bike to a halt and killed the engine, the abrupt silence filling my ears as though I’d suddenly been submerged underwater.

“We’re here,” he said, shattering the peace, and I quickly untangled my arms from around his waist.

The moment I was free of him, I slipped from the bike and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk. He dismounted and shot me a wide grin that made him look young and almost innocent. Of course, the scar that ran down his cheek reminded me that he was far from innocent—he was an alpha wolf who’d only hours ago threatened to rip out my throat. So why did I feel a tug of something long buried when I stared up into his eyes?

“Nice to finally find a woman after my own heart,” he said, his smile open and carefree.

I could almost imagine what it might be like to let his excitement wash over me and carry me away on the current, taking me wherever he wanted.

But it didn’t work like that.

I wasn’t some naive young fae who could be taken in by a wolf. I wouldn’t lose my head around him.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, his expression darkening. Clearly, my thoughts had been mirrored on my face.

“No, it’s not you—” I started to say, but Byron shook his head with a rueful smile.

“Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t think you’re one for clichés. That would just ruin your perfect streak.”

Shrugging, I turned from him and glanced back at the office. “You coming in for coffee?” I asked. There were still far too many questions I needed answered, and I wasn’t going to get them while standing here under the flickering street lights.

“So I’m not a persona non grata yet?” He climbed off the bike and glanced around the street.

“Push it around the side,” I said. “I’m the only one who uses the alley.” I purposely left out the part about the alley being a portal to the Between. No one else could use it because it was spelled to deliberately turn people away unless I wanted them to find it.

“What, no magical charm to ward it?” He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Do I look like a leprechaun?”

Byron let his gaze rake over me, spreading heat through my body everywhere his eyes lingered. “Well, you’ve certainly got charms.”

The snort escaped me before I could stop it. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? ‘I’ve got charms?’” I rolled my eyes so hard they practically tumbled out of my head. “Tell me, has that line ever worked on anyone with a brain?”

“I don’t usually have to use the one-liners,” he said with an arrogant smirk that made me want to punch him.

“What, they usually just trip over themselves falling into bed with you?”

“They don’t trip into my bed, I carry them,” he said, his voice low and husky.

I suddenly felt foolish. I’d walked straight into that one, and his tone sent a frisson of desire racing through me, warming me from the inside.

“Well, I’d rather not be blessed with that honour, thanks.” I shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant but could tell from the darkening of Byron’s eyes that I was failing at it. “I’ll see you inside.” I turned on my heel and beat a hasty retreat back to the safety of the office. Here, I was queen, cool and in charge, and Byron definitely wasn’t going to get under my skin in my own turf. Even if he did have lips that begged to be kissed.

“Get a grip, Darcey,” I growled under my breath as I pushed open the office door and stepped into bedlam.

* * *

“Duck!” Samira screamed, but I’d already seen the projectile heading toward my face. Throwing my body forward, I rolled into a crouch as the obsidian dagger shattered against the reinforced wooden doorway.

My own blades already in my hands, I grabbed the nearest assailant as he tried to smash my head with a hammer. Blocking his blow with my arm, I pushed up and back, using my body’s momentum to send him sprawling into one of the nearby bookcases.

Something hard struck me between the shoulder blades, and I cried out as the iron bit into my skin. But I kept moving, twisting my body so the blade merely sliced at my back instead of getting buried between my shoulder blades.

The assailant I had thrown into the bookcases hissed at me, and I found myself staring into the muddy brown eyes of a pixie, his hair a dark forest green that most people would mistake for dark brown. But pixies’ ears were the feature that really made them stand out—the pointed tips had inspired humans to believe that all faeries had them. Of course, the pixies could fold down the tips of their ears whenever they wanted, pinning them into place so as to go unnoticed.

They were nasty creatures, fully fae yet not one of the fae that ruled Faerie. They were usually hired as assassins, light on their feet, small enough to blend in as children in the human realm, and dirty fighters who desired to win no matter the cost.

He hissed again and then flung himself toward me with an obsidian hammer that resembled a sledge hammer. My angle was all wrong as I brought my blade up in a short upper-cut that only glanced off his armoured body. The hammer came down toward me as I tried to move out of the way. But I wasn’t fast enough—nobody was fast enough against the pixies.

He was there one minute and on the floor the next, pinned to the ground by the huge silver and white wolf that had streaked over me. The wolf opened its huge jaws and, with one loud crunch, bit down on the pixie’s face and neck, completely severing his head from his small body.

The other wounded assailant screamed in agony, and I turned to find her pinned against the wall like a grotesque insect by her own obsidian blades as she struggled to free herself. Mazik stood next to her, his eyes demon-dark as he licked blood from his fingers.

“Samira!” I shouted hoarsely. When I started to move, the iron in the wound on my back burned enough to make me want to vomit.

“I’m here, I’m fine,” she said, appearing from behind my desk with the kitten, who looked like she had been through the wars. Her orange fur was splattered with blood, and her intelligent green eyes stared at me smugly.

“Fuzzikins saved me,” Samira said, staring down at the cat in surprise. “Almost got killed in the process.”

Shaking my head, I sucked in a deep breath through my nose in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. I had been poisoned for the second time that night, and this time there would be no quick trip to the Noree for a cure. If I was lucky, the cut on my back would turn out to be nothing more than a scratch and I would eventually sweat the iron out of my system.

“I thought we agreed we weren’t calling the cat Fuzzikins,” I said, pushing painfully up onto my feet.

“You agreed, I didn’t,” she said, but her eyes held concern as she studied me the way a mother might fret over her child. “You’re hurt.” She placed the cat on the desk and moved toward me.

“No, I’m fine,” I said, raising my hand to halt her movements.

I heard a groan behind me, followed by a wave of scalding hot magic that washed over me, sending my breath out of my body in a loud whoosh as I gritted my teeth against the pain. I turned to find Byron crouched over the shredded remains of the pixie he had decapitated. His tan skin was streaked with pixie blood, and one side of his face was smeared in crimson as though he had rolled it in the blood.

His eyes met mine. They were still amber, his wolf lurking barely beneath the surface.

“You’re hurt badly, I can smell it from here,” he said, pushing up onto his feet. I realized then that he was naked. Utterly and completely, every impressive inch of his body exposed…And while I liked the view, it dawned on me that he was standing in front of the office’s wide picture window, visible to everyone who passed on the street.

Crossing to the window, I grabbed the beaded strings of the venetian blind, sending it cascading down across the clear glass with a loud zip.

“We’ve got more important business to attend to,” I said, returning my attention to the still-struggling pixie pinned to the wall and deliberately ignoring the naked alpha in the middle of the room.

He growled low beneath his breath, which did nothing to quell my rapid heartbeat. “Do you have a towel I can borrow?” he asked.

“I’ll get it!” Samira said, her voice high and breathy. I turned my head and caught sight of her face, her cheeks so vibrantly red she could have lit up the room all by herself. Her attraction to Byron didn’t surprise me in the least—wolves had that effect on those around them. Hell, a normal ranking pack member could make even a monk want to sin, but alphas could make anyone fall in love with them. I was going to have to have a word with Byron and ask him to tone down the sexy around Samira. Could he do that? It wasn’t like it was a switch he could flip on and off at will. At least I was pretty sure it wasn’t.

I waited for Samira to return with the oversized towel I kept in the bathroom. Byron nodded his thanks with a thin-lipped smile before wrapping it around his waist.

“Who sent you?” I asked, addressing the pixie who had ceased her struggles and was now merely hanging from the wall, her eyes closed as though trying to feign a faint.

She didn’t answer, but the telltale twist at the corners of her lips told me she’d heard the question.

“Don’t make me ask again, pixie scum, or I’ll let the wolf tear you apart like he did your partner,” I said, deliberately goading her. The moment the words left my mouth, she let out a frustrated scream and resumed her fight against her own blades.

Mazik grabbed the hilt of the blade nearest him and twisted it so the sound of the blade crunching against her bone filled the air. She screamed again, and when Mazik leaned in and lapped at the blood oozing from the wound her eyes widened in fear.

“What are you?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“This and that,” he said, the words sounding clipped with his London accent. He rolled his eyes up to meet hers as his tongue flickered against the edges of the wound like a snake.

“Demon,” she said, this time with genuine fear.

“Bullseye,” he said, probing harder with his tongue as she moaned in terror.

I watched their little exchange play out, allowing Mazik to employ his tactics. I’d never seen him work before, and while it wasn’t strictly to my taste, I knew the power of fear. There had been a time when others had feared me, and it had given me a thrill like nothing else on earth.

“You’re welcome to the other body,” I said, using Mazik’s tactics.

“And this one?” he asked, eyeing me. The darkness in him was all-consuming, and nothing of the man I knew remained in his gaze.

“If she can’t give me what I want, then you can have her too,” I said. The fae couldn’t lie, and yet the words tripped off my tongue. The moment they left my mouth, I paused. Had it been a lie? Deep down, I knew it wasn’t. But I also knew I wouldn’t let Mazik take a live victim, and yet I had told him he could. Was whatever Mannan had done to me actually affecting me?

“I can’t tell you who sent me,” she said in a panic. When I glanced at her, I saw that her muddy brown eyes were filled with terror.

“I guess she’s all yours, Mazik,” I said.

“No…” She howled the word, a truly pitiful sound. “He will eat me while my heart still beats.”

Shrugging, I started to turn away. Byron’s face was an unreadable mask, but something in his gaze made me feel as though he was judging me.

“You tried to kill me,” I said, “and this is the price paid by those who attempt such things.” Even though I spoke to the pixie, I kept my gaze locked on Byron. Part of me, whether intentional or not, was definitely warning him to take his misplaced judgment elsewhere.

“I cannot tell you who it was because I did not meet them,” she said, the words coming in a rush. “We were hired through channels the fae sometimes take when they wish to keep their identities a secret. I swear, it’s the truth. You know I cannot lie!”

“How many of you are there?” I asked, keeping my tone deliberately dispassionate.

“I don’t know.”

“Make sure no one sees you taking her,” I said to Mazik.

“Six that I know of, and we were sent to stop you at all costs,” she said.

“Stop me from doing what?” I turned to face her. The raw fear in her eyes told me we had broken her.

“They didn’t say, just that we were to stop you at all costs…” She paused and closed her eyes in pain before opening them once more and meeting my gaze head-on. “This was the first order, but there is a second on your head. It did not come through the usual channels. The one we call Fargin said we could collect twice on the bounty if we brought you down before the second wave had their shot.”

“Who is Fargin?” I asked, but she shook her head. Black foam frothed from her lips.

“I said too much,” she whispered as her small body twisted in agony. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and blood ran from her eyes instead of tears.

“Shit.” I crossed the room and grabbed one of the obsidian blades from her shoulder.

Mazik caught my hand before I could pull it free, his black eyes now returned to normal. “Leave it, love, she’s too far gone…” For a moment, I thought I heard pity in his voice.

“We can’t leave her to suffer,” I said.

“She tried to kill you and your pet witch. If I hadn’t been here, Samira would have been toast. Better to let the pixie suffer.”

I had clearly misheard the pity in his voice.

The pixie screamed, but it sounded wet and utterly wrong. The black foam continued bubbling out of her mouth and splattering down onto her chain mail shirt.

“No, we do not let her suffer,” I said.

“Let me.” Byron appeared at my elbow. He pushed at Mazik, but the demon kept a punishing hold on my hand as I fought against him.

“This could all be a trap, and then you’ll be letting this crazy bitch loose on our asses again,” Mazik said as he faced Byron.

The wolf growled, the sound trickling out from between his lips, and I felt the tension in the room spike.

“Mazik, cut the shit,” I said, jerking free of his grip. “If she’s faking, then it’ll be on my head.” I grabbed the obsidian blade once more and tugged it free of her shoulder.

She slumped forward, her other arm still pinned in place, and pain burned in my back as I reached to grab the other blade. But Byron was there before me, moving swiftly, and he pulled out the blade and caught the pixie before she could drop into my arms. Cradling her as though she were a child, he carried her to the middle of the floor. Samira helped him prop pillows beneath her body. She convulsed violently in his arms; the black foam had thickened and seemed to drip from her lips sluggishly.

Her bloody tears were rapidly changing colour and were now the same consistency as the black bile.

“What is it?” Samira asked, fear etched into her face as she watched the pixie struggle to breathe.

Whatever was happening to her would not be quick. The fae were notoriously difficult to kill; their bodies fought to heal despite grievous and oftentimes fatal injuries. And if they were strong, as the pixie appeared to be, then death would not come easily.

“She broke her bond,” I said. “She revealed the name of the person she works for, which is punishable by death.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Samira asked.

There was something I could do, but it definitely wasn’t what Samira had in mind. I was the harbinger—it was my duty to foretell coming death, but when death was imminent, like now, I could help it along. But no matter how much I hated to admit it to myself, I couldn’t stop feeling like her suffering was justified. She had come here to kill me, to kill the ones I cared about, and part of me wanted her to get her just reward.

“You could relieve her of her suffering,” Byron said, his words catching me off guard.

“I wouldn’t be relieving her of her suffering. It would be murder.” I glanced up at him, my shoulders stiffening with the weight of the accusation in his voice as though he could see straight through me to the thoughts swirling in my mind.

“It’s the same thing,” he said, “but in this case it would be a kindness. She will only linger, serving as a warning for others who might consider breaking their bond. A cruel death for one who was only following orders.”

His words pricked at me, but he wasn’t wrong. The viscous liquid pouring from her mouth had slowed to a crawl, but she was still taking long, arduous breaths that rattled and bubbled in her lungs. Her skin had begun to lose its colour, turning grey in the harsh office lights.

“Fine.” I turned and headed for the back stairs that led to the basement, where I had stored the Bone Blade for the day. I couldn’t help but feel chastised. I would have eventually come to the same conclusion as Byron; I’d never allowed anyone to suffer unnecessarily, but having him tell me before I’d sorted through everything in my head first didn’t sit well with me.

Mazik met me in the hall, his expression filled with anger as he caught my arm. “You would let a wolf order you around?” he hissed.

“No one is ordering anyone,” I snapped, and then, changing my mind, added, “except maybe me ordering you.”

“You know what I mean, Darcey. He speaks and you quiver with need, begging to know how high you should jump for his command.”

“Don’t you dare,” I warned.

“Don’t I dare what? Don’t I dare speak the truth? You fae are all the same—you dance around the truth, but all that really means is that you are expert liars. I’m a demon, for God’s sake, and I’m more honest than you.” I wasn’t used to hearing such passion in Mazik’s voice.

“Just leave,” I said. “If you don’t like it here, then get out.”

He hesitated and opened his mouth as if to say more, but then closed it again. “You’re right. I’ll go, but when the dog bites don’t come crying to me.” And then he was gone, faster than even my fae eyes could follow.

Why did he care that I was working with Byron? I’d never really seen Mazik so bothered by something. Was it because I wouldn’t let the two of them rip each other apart in their little pissing contest, or was something else going on that I, as usual, had missed?

Placing my hand on the door leading to the stairs, I waited for the audible pop of the wards giving way before pushing open the door and heading down into the basement. Far too many questions remained, and right now I didn’t have the time to worry about why the demon’s knickers were so badly twisted. Instead, I would focus on what I needed to do. Sometimes, that was the only thing left.

Chapter Eight

Crouching next to the pixie, I turned the Bone Blade over in my hands. Its power called me like nothing else could, and the urge to unleash it upon the world was almost overwhelming. But I was the harbinger, the banshee, and I held the blade’s power in my hands. Only I could force it to bend to my will, and mine alone. In the hands of anyone else, it brought suffering beyond measure. But in my hands, if I willed it, the blade was mercy itself.

Her eyes met mine, and her lips moved as though in silent prayer as her breaths came in bubbling gasps. Gripping the blade’s hilt, I pressed the tip down over the pixie’s heart.

Lifting my face, I met Byron’s gaze. “Leave, and take Samira with you.” My voice rang with power; soon, I would keen for the fallen.

“I don’t want to leave,” Samira said, but, seeing the look in my eyes, Byron nodded and stood without further question.

His unfaltering obedience was an interesting reaction. Almost as though I wasn’t the first banshee he had encountered. Yet, I was the only banshee alive; the last of my kind had died a hundred years ago, leaving me alone. But there was no mistaking the understanding in his eyes, an understanding that didn’t seem possible.

“No,” Samira said, and I could hear her struggling against Byron as he picked her up, leaving me with the pixie and my building magic.

“I am sorry,” I said, “that my power is not what it once was, that I cannot mourn as was once possible.”

The pixie nodded almost imperceptibly and then closed her eyes, the thick black liquid pooling against her lashes.

Piercing her skin with just the tip of the blade, I felt her life force ebb away as the Bone Blade drank deep of her power. The pixie’s skin turned grey, and within moments her body became ash that collapsed in on itself until nothing remained but a pile of dust.

Throwing back my head, I let the scream building in the back of my throat rip free. The sorrow tore through me as the scream became a wail that lingered on the air long after I released it.

The silence crept back in around me, but I was acutely aware of the neighbourhood dogs taking up my rallying cry. Their incessant barking and howling would undoubtedly irritate their owners, but at least only the most sensitive of humans would have heard my scream.

“She’s gone?” I whirled around in surprise to find Byron standing in the doorway. The towel was gone, replaced by a pair of loose grey joggers. His arms were folded across his chest, which I could glimpse through the gap in his zipped hoodie. He was no less magnetic now that he was covered up, and I couldn’t shake the memory of him standing in the middle of the room utterly naked, every inch of his hard, muscular body on display.

“Yeah, she’s gone.” I dropped my gaze to the ash on the floor. It was easier to concentrate on that than meet Byron’s heated gaze.

“Where’s Samira?” I asked.

“Sitting in the coffee shop across the street.”

“You left her alone?”

“No, one of my friends runs it. He’s keeping an eye on her and the kitten.”

I nodded but didn’t answer. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. I could trust that if an alpha wolf gave a command, it would be carried out.

“Would you really have let the demon have her?” he asked, his question catching me off guard. I jerked my head up to meet his eyes. He gestured to where the pixie had been pinned to the wall to emphasise his point.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Well, part of me wants to believe that just because you’re fae doesn’t mean you’ve lost all compassion, but then I can’t help but remember that little rule you guys have.”

“And what rule would that be?”

“The one that says you can’t lie,” he said.

Hadn’t I asked myself the same question? We couldn’t lie, and yet I had. And if I hadn’t, then I’d skirted the truth like a pro, something I’d never been capable of before.

“I don’t think I would have let him,” I said.

“That’s a pretty dismal answer.” Byron sounded shocked.

“Well you want honesty, and I’m giving it to you,” I said, “and the answer is that I don’t know what I would have done. I needed the information from her. Do I regret the threat? Not really. I have enough enemies, and knowing who they are so I can prepare and stand a chance when they come for me isn’t something I’ll ever feel bad about.”

“I know what it’s like to do anything to survive,” he said, sounding suddenly raw and vulnerable.

“As much as I’d love to believe that, I really don’t think you and I have the same definition of doing anything to survive,” I said, struggling to not sound bitter as I got to my feet. “Now I need to clean up, and then I need sleep.” I pushed past him.

He didn’t try to stop me, which surprised me. I was so used to having the men in my life try to hold me back, or force me to explain myself, that it was refreshing to have one who didn’t instantly place demands on my time.

Making my way into the back hall, I headed down the stairs and paused in front of the basement mirror. My back was still burning, and I shrugged out of my T-shirt, leaving the tank top in place. I glanced over my shoulder to assess the damage. Dark grey lines fed outward from the cut, and I could feel the iron slowly spreading through my system. The wound would take time to heal, and I had no way of speeding it up. If I was lucky, then I would sweat the worst of it while I slept.

Byron’s reflection appeared in the mirror behind me, his fingers gently sliding across my skin as he examined the wound.

“The blades didn’t look like iron, and yet I can smell the poison in your system,” he said.

“It’s a neat little trick,” I said. “They infuse the blades with iron before using them on another fae. The pixies don’t like to play fair.”

Byron nodded and bent his head low toward my skin. I stiffened and moved away from him. “What are you doing?”

“The poison is still close to the surface. It hasn’t hit a vein or an artery yet, which means we’ve got time to get rid of it.” His eyes met mine in the mirror.

“I appreciate it,” I said, “but I’ll just burn it out. That’ll take more time, but it’s better than carving me up in the hopes we can cut the iron out.”

Byron shook his head. “Have you never seen the venom from a snake bite being sucked out of the wound?”

“I don’t think so, buster.” I shrugged away from him in horror.

“Look, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want, but it really is the fastest way to get rid of the poison.” He was making it all sound so utterly normal.

“And I’m saying it’ll be fine,” I argued. “I’ll be weaker for a little while but fine.”

It was Byron’s turn to shrug. “So long as you’ll still be able to investigate.”

“Death is the only thing that might stand in the way of me doing my job,” I said, my temper rising.

“Good. I’ll take my leave of you for tonight, but I’ll be back in the morning.” He turned and headed for the stairs.

“What, need to go and howl at the moon?” I said sarcastically.

“Something like that.” His low chuckle floated back to me as he disappeared out the door, leaving me alone in the basement.

My mind conjured an image of Byron’s lips on my skin, his teeth grazing my flesh as his strong hands held me in place.

A shiver raced down my spine, and I shrugged back into my T-shirt, suddenly unsure of turning him away.

“Don’t lose your head, Darcey,” I said aloud to the reflection in the mirror. “He’s not worth the risk.”

I stared at myself as the lie curdled in the pit of my stomach. We couldn’t lie, but no one said we had to be honest with ourselves.

Chapter Nine

Crossing the floor to the desk, I plonked down on the yoga mat I’d set out for myself. Meditation would speed up the healing process, but first I had to fight to clear my mind from the turmoil.

With a groan of frustration, I gave up. I had only made it to my knees before the air in front of my face began shimmering softly, reminding me of the summer heat from the Seelie Court, the warm, fragrant air distorting and causing mirages for those who didn’t belong. The air was split with an ear-piercing siren wail as the shimmering intensified. Whoever was trying to get past my magical wardings in the basement clearly didn’t belong here.

Rolling backwards into a crouched position, I pulled my silver blades free. My back protested the sudden movement, but I didn’t have time for the pain. The silver blades wouldn’t kill a fae but would at least hurt them enough to slow them down so I could retrieve my iron knives on the other side of the room, just out of reach beyond the shimmering air.

My ears popped as the shimmering became a burst of light that momentarily stole my vision. Lunging forward, blades at the ready, I trusted my instincts and long hours of training to give me the advantage I needed.

The earth shifted beneath my feet as the smell of summer blossoms filled my head. Power slammed into my chest, knocking the wind out of me, and I recognized the culprit as my body crashed backwards into the brick wall behind my desk.

“Darcey, is that any way to greet an old friend?” The voice was almost as familiar to me as my own.

“I didn’t realise we were still friends, Idalina,” I choked out, my words caught in the back of my throat as the force of her power held me in place against the cold brick.

She shook her long raven hair back from her face and grinned at me. There had been a time when I would have trusted the expression on her face, but not anymore. Not since she had betrayed me to the Faerie Court, telling them of my crimes and condemning me to a life of slavery as the Court’s personal bitch.

“You know me, Darcey, I’m not one to hold a grudge,” she said. “Now will you play nice, or do I need to keep you pinned like the pretty little bug you are.” Her tone was all sweetness and light, belying the true intention of her words.

“You owe me a debt, Idalina, and I will get what I am owed whether you like it or not.” The words left my mouth through gritted teeth. The last thing I wanted was to remain pinned against the wall, but when Idalina asked a question, you answered, willing or not.

“Pinned it is, then.” She smiled at me again, but it wasn’t a pleasant look. I fought against the hold she had over me, sweat beading on my skin. My efforts drew a look of consideration from her.

“Weaker than I remember, but stronger than I expected…” she said thoughtfully.

With a grunt of effort, I quit fighting her and immediately felt her power slide through my brain like a mist, coating everything in its path. She didn’t have the physical strength to hold me against the wall, but her ability to manipulate the reality around her had turned my body into my enemy. It believed it was pinned to the wall, so I was. If she wanted my lungs to believe the air I was breathing was no longer oxygen-rich, then I would slowly suffocate.

When we had been friends, I had watched her torture a human to death. Her callous actions made me see her in a different light, and our friendship had suffered. Of course, Mannan choosing me over her had firmly set us at odds, and her subsequent betrayal of me to the Faerie Court had been nothing but revenge.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“So quick to get to the point. You weren’t always so impatient.”

“You weren’t always a lying traitor, but hey, I guess we all change.”

“That’s not how Faerie sees it, Darcey.” She smirked, but I didn’t rise to the bait. There was a time when I would have raged against her, but not anymore. She had done enough to me, and I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

The silence stretched between us, the clock on the wall opposite me ticking down the seconds. Idalina narrowed her eyes in irritation and folded her arms across her chest.

“When did you get so Zen?”

“What do you want, Ida,” I said, using the shortened version of her name, knowing just how much it irritated her. I wasn’t disappointed. Her eyebrows snapped together as her expression became a scowl that might have withered a lesser fae.

“Fine, I want your help.”

The laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. Had I been away from Faerie so long that Idalina had completely lost her mind? It was either the worst joke ever or…

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I said, choking back the laughter as she continued to stare at me.

“Do you really think I would come here if it wasn’t true? You know how I feel about the humans…spending time in their realm makes my skin crawl.” Her declaration was far too open and honest to be any kind of deception. The fae couldn’t directly lie. Bend the truth, sure, but not like this.

“If that is truly all you want, then let me go,” I said.

Idalina shook her head and shot me a grim smile. “We both know what you’ll do, and I need you to hear me out.”

She wasn’t wrong. “Let’s just get this over with so I can turn you down and get back to my own life.”

“Lunn is in trouble.”

Four little words that had the power to halt me in my tracks. The smug smile on my lips died.

“What kind of trouble?” I couldn’t hide my suspicion. Idalina wasn’t someone to be trusted, but if Lunn truly was in trouble then why did she think an exile like me would be of any benefit to her?

“He’s missing. I know he was working with you.”

“My jailer, you mean,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

Idalina crossed the room in the time it took me to draw a breath. The obsidian blade in her hands hadn’t been there a moment ago, but I was acutely aware of its presence as she pressed its wickedly sharp edge to my throat.

“You were shown mercy when you deserved none. What he saw in you, I will never understand, but…” She drew in a long, shuddering breath and took a small step backwards.

“You and Lunn?” I studied her face carefully. I didn’t need her to confirm that she loved him; her reaction and the raw despair I’d just witnessed had been enough.

“We’re colleagues…”

“And?” I prompted.

“And I need your help in finding him,” she said, evading my probing questions with the smooth conversational dexterity that only the fae possessed.

“Where was he last seen?” I asked. There was no point in trying to get her to admit the truth.

“Last I heard, he came to see you.” The relief written on her face was mirrored in the lessening of her grip over my mind.

The last time I’d seen Lunn, he had helped me escape from the clutches of Auriella, Mother of the Wild Hunt—or all-out lunatic, depending on your perspective. She had murdered MacNa in cold blood, and for all intents and purposes had gotten away with it scot-free. Some things in life really weren’t fair.

“He was with the Mother of the Hunt,” I said, and Idalina nodded.

“Yeah, she’s the captain of the enforcers.” I felt her power slip a little, allowing me to breathe somewhat easier.

“So that’s your answer then,” I said. “Now can you please let me down and get the hell out?”

Idalina glared at me. “If it was truly that easy, do you think I would be here? No one has seen him, Darcey. He came to see you, and it’s like he just up and disappeared.”

“Have you spoken to Auriella?”

Idalina scoffed and gave me an incredulous look. “Really? You think I didn’t go to her first? Of course I’ve spoken to her. She wants to know where he is just as much as I do.” Colour suffused her cheeks.

“You said you were just colleagues?”

“And you’re too nosey for your own good. Look, he was your Faerie Court contact, so can’t you just summon him?”

I contemplated denying her request, but her voice and eyes held enough desperation that I felt somewhat sorry for her. I knew what it was like to need someone. I knew what it was like to long for someone. How could I turn her away when I was intimately acquainted with this type of suffering?

“Fine. But when I do this for you, you’ll piss off back to where you came from?”

She nodded, her eagerness almost worthy of pity, but I crushed the emotion back down where it belonged. Where had her pity been for me when she’d turned me over to the Faerie Court? She certainly hadn’t worried what they might do to me, and all because of her petty jealousy.

“You won’t see me again,” she said.

“Then let me down,” I demanded. Her power vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and I dropped to the floor like a ton of bricks. The iron in my blood made me slower than I should have been, and I narrowly avoided landing on my ass.

I felt her eyes on me as she watched me expectantly. Moving around the desk, I headed for the safe and popped the warding on the locks before spinning the dial and letting the door swing open. The wooden box within the safe was small and still held the faint scent of cherry blossoms. Its smooth surface was covered in carvings that ebbed and flowed beneath my touch, constantly changing and evolving.

“Oscailte agus nochtann,” I said, the Irish words tripping off my tongue. The words held power, but only my voice would activate the spell that kept the box locked. The lid popped open, and I lifted it back to reveal the three vials of Lunn’s blood that he had given to me.

It would take only a couple of drops to summon him. I lifted one vial free, closing the lid on the others and secreting the box back in the safe and out of Idalina’s reach. I could feel her eyes on me as I tugged open the vial’s lid and let two small drops of blood plop onto my finger.

“Have you done this before?” she asked.

“Nope. Have you ever been summoned before?” I turned to face her.

The blood balanced precariously on the tip of my finger, wobbling to and fro, threatening to spill over and slide away into nothingness.

“No,” she said quietly, watching me with hungry eyes.

Moving quickly, I raised my hand and smeared the blood across my forehead, down the bridge of my nose, and finally across my lips.

“Ag do chuid fola a thoghairm mé dhuit, trí do thuairisceán fola dom,” I said, feeling the power swelling within the room with each word. I closed my eyes and imagined Lunn standing before me.

Nothing happened. The clock on the wall merrily continued clicking down the seconds. I could feel Idalina’s impatience coating everything in its path, and I fought the urge to begin tapping my foot as we waited.

“What exactly is supposed to happen?” she asked.

“No idea, but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to be nothing.” I raised the vial to my nose. The scent of pine needles and icy snow remained much the same as it had been on the day Lunn had given it to me, so I knew it hadn’t spoiled.

“Unless there’s something else he has to do,” I said, but it didn’t seem convincing even to me.

The wards in the basement screamed, and the vial in my hands shattered as something howled nearby.

“That’s definitely not Lunn,” I said.

Idalina shook her head. “It’s Auriella, and if she catches me here she’ll kill me.” She began running for the stairs.

“Why would she do that?” But I was talking to the air as Idalina disappeared.

The screaming wards cut off abruptly, and the silence that followed made my ears feel as though they’d been stuffed with cotton wool.

“You summoned me?” Auriella’s voice came from somewhere above me. I glanced up, half expecting to see her on the ceiling. But then it dawned on me that her voice was coming from the upstairs office.

Someone else mumbled, the words indistinguishable, but I recognised the voice as Idalina’s. I could leave her to whatever fate Auriella would serve up to her. But the memory of what Auriella had done to MacNa still haunted me; there was no way I would let her do that to anyone else, not if I could stop it.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached the doorway to the office as Idalina’s body crashed into the back wall. The force of her impact caused some of the bricks to crack as plaster rained down on top of her.

“She didn’t summon you. Neither of us summoned you.” I met Auriella’s violet gaze head-on.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She folded her arms across her chest, staring me down.

“You,” she said, and the disdain in that one word was enough to curdle my stomach.

“I tried to summon Lunn. He is, after all, my connection to the Court.” I fought to keep my voice even and devoid of all emotion. With the iron slowly spreading through my system and poisoning me, it wouldn’t take much for Auriella to snuff out my life if she wanted to.

“How?” she asked.

“I have a better question. Why are you here and Lunn isn’t?”

Auriella smiled unpleasantly. At least her face hadn’t begun to change like it had when she had planned to kill me in the alley. Lunn had saved me then, even knowing it was a trap. I’d known he would be punished by the Court, but the more I thought about it, the further my stomach sank into my boots. If Lunn wasn’t here, then where was he?

“I said, how did you summon Lunn?” she asked again, and with each word I watched her glamour slowly begin to strip away.

Her wings unfurled behind her, their tips brushing against the ceiling as they beat slowly back and forth. The thin, almost clear membranes were separated by hundreds of tiny branching violet lines that marked the flow of her blood. She took a step forward and they fluttered, the light bouncing off the colours and causing them to sparkle and shimmer like a crystal.

She grew taller, the human glamour she wore to give herself dark, unremarkable hair fading to reveal the rich, russet red that sparkled as though filled with strands of ruby. I watched it grow longer, curling down around her body in a braid that rivalled my own. Her violet eyes sparked with anger, and when she smiled I could see rows of razor-sharp killing teeth.

Mother of the Hunt was one of only a few fae in existence who possessed more than one shape. Mannan had been another—the tentacled shadow beast from my nightmares had been only too real at one time, but the cage had stripped him of the ability to become the creature…Of course, if my nightmare had been real, then something was happening to change that.

No one had ever lived long enough to say what Mother of the Hunt’s beast form looked like, and the same was almost true of Mannan…except that I had survived his last attack.

“Tell her, Darcey,” Idalina said, the fear in her voice palpable.

“He gave me a vial of his blood.” I tore my gaze away from the fae standing before me. Staring into her eyes was a mistake.

“Just one?” Auriella asked.

“I…” I opened my mouth to answer and hesitated. I couldn’t lie to her, but I was pretty positive I didn’t want to tell her the truth.

“The vial shattered,” I said finally. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.

I watched Auriella’s expression relax. “Why were you trying to summon him?”

“He’s my connection to the Court,” I repeated. “I wanted him to know that the Elite have the half-breed.”

Silence followed my words, and I risked a glance up at Auriella. “I thought it was something they should know,” I added.

She nodded and smiled condescendingly at me. “They know. They are considering their next move.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

Auriella’s face remained utterly neutral. “The Court is considering a suitable punishment for Lunn.”

“He didn’t disobey them,” I said. “He was protecting me! If anyone should get punished, it should be me.”

“All good things,” she said, before turning her attention to Idalina. “You, get out of my sight.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Idalina was gone.

“Tread lightly, harbinger,” Auriella said to me. “I’ve got my eye on you. Don’t think that because you escaped my justice once that you will do so again.”

As I opened my mouth to answer her, she disappeared, there one moment and gone the next. It always amazed me when Lunn did that, but Auriella made it seem just creepy. Her words lingered on the air as though she hadn’t left at all, and I had to fight the urge to search the place from top to bottom.

Sucking in a deep breath, I let my shoulders drop as the tension that had been holding me rigid slowly flowed out of me. Faerie politics were not my thing, and yet for some reason I always managed to find myself tangled up in them.

Chapter Ten

I lay in bed and stared up at the lights dancing across the ceiling. Samira had refused to speak to me on the way back to the apartment, and the unnamed kitten seemed to favour her side in the matter over mine. Trying to explain that exposing her to my power too often was bad for her just wasn’t sinking in.

I’d been more than a little distracted myself, my mind running over the situation with Auriella and Lunn. It didn’t feel right that he had to pay for helping me. Just thinking about all the different angles gave me a headache, so I tried to push Lunn from my mind.

Sweat beaded on my skin, causing me to stick to the bed sheets, but I refused to admit that I regretted turning down Byron’s offer. If he had succeeded—and that was a pretty big if—then I would find myself beholden to an alpha wolf, and that wasn’t a position I wanted to be in.

But that wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t get him out of my head. I was plagued with thoughts of his skin against mine, his lips, the taste of him on my tongue. Frustrated, I rolled over and thumped my lumpy pillow in an attempt to wrestle it into submission. But even that seemed reluctant to bend to my will. Groaning, I picked up the pillow and tossed it across the room, rolling my eyes as it thumped into the dresser and knocked down the few small knick-knacks I had placed there.

Climbing from the bed, I padded across the floor as a breeze fluttered in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of blossoms. I closed my eyes and let the scent wash over me, but the creak of a floorboard jolted me to attention. She was crouched in the corner of the room, her green hair short and spiky. Holding my breath, I waited for my eyes to adjust fully to the darkness and then realised I could see through her to the wall behind her. Something appeared where she traced her finger on the floor, and when she lifted her face I found myself staring into a pair of wide violet eyes that were uncannily familiar.

“Clary,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

She tilted her head to the side, but her gaze held no recognition as she studied me. Something howled outside on the street, something unnatural and not of this world. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and the child, if that’s what she was, gave a start as terror filled her violet gaze. And then she was gone, between one breath and the next, and the space she had occupied was empty.

Sorrow lanced through my chest. I slumped back against the wall, my knees buckling beneath me as I slid to the floor and tears slowly tracked down my cheeks. The tears burned against my skin, but I didn’t care. There was no doubt in my mind that Clary had been here. I hadn’t known her as a child, but I would recognise her eyes anywhere—she was my friend, the one I had failed, and she had died at the hands of the hybrid.

But why was she here? Clary was dead, and when the fae died there was nothing—no heaven, no hell, just a whole lot of oblivion. And yet she had been here…Or was I just hallucinating? It wasn’t impossible; iron poisoning could induce fevers. The burning tears dripped down my face faster, each one making my body feel lighter, cleaner. It shouldn’t have been possible. I caught the next tear that dripped from the end of my chin and studied its dark surface.

Tears weren’t supposed to be dark, and yet this one was opaque. Pushing up onto my feet, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at the red tracks the tears left in my skin. Turning, I pulled up my T-shirt and searched for the cut from the pixie’s blade.

The iron had been slowly spreading into my system—earlier, I’d seen its lines radiating out from my wound. Yet now, the lines were slowly shrinking, receding back into the wound with each tear that tracked down my face.

I’d never heard of anyone being able to cry the iron out of their system. Was it somehow connected to the Noree wanting my tears? It seemed unlikely, but at this point anything was possible. Sinking back against the wall, I slid down until I hit the floor.

Exhaustion washed through me, and I wrapped my arms around my knees, resting my head back against the wall. My last thought, before I drifted off into a sleep devoid of all dreams, was to wonder what Clary had been doing on the floor before she disappeared.

* * *

Something tickled against my face, jerking me awake. It took me a moment to realise I was still on the floor. The sunlight streaming in through the window blinded me. I’d slumped over at some point during the night, and something was now rustling gently beneath my head as I tried to move. My body refused to budge, and panic swelled in my chest as I fought to lift my arms.

Glancing down at my body, I saw why I wasn’t fit to move. I was cocooned in what appeared to be young ivy. The delicate leaves and thin shoots covered me and pinned me to the floor. At first it looked like nothing I had ever seen in the mortal realm, but then I quickly realised that the last time I’d seen something similar had been in Ireland at the gateway to Faerie.

Shuffling onto my back, I sucked in a deep breath and prepared to pull free of the webbing. As though sensing what I was about to do, the webbing retreated slowly, releasing my limbs one at a time.

Finally free, I sat up and stared at the room, or at least what remained of it. The bed was completely buried in ivy-like vines, and a huge oak had grown through the floor in the corner where I’d seen Clary the child. When I looked up, I saw that the ceiling was gone, replaced by the oak’s branches arching over my head like a canopy.

“Shit,” I muttered.

I couldn’t see the sky through the latticework of branches, but I caught a hint of blossoms on the air, the same kind I had smelled right before Clary had appeared.

The sound of someone moving around in the apartment drew my attention, and I climbed slowly to my feet. Despite spending the night on the floor, I didn’t ache the way I’d expected, and when I glanced in the mirror the tracks of iron tears were gone and my skin was unmarked.

Whirling around, I dragged up my T-shirt and stared at the smooth, pale flesh covering my back. Gone was the angry wound. The dark lines that had radiated out from it had also disappeared; nothing remained to indicate I had been involved in a fight.

Confusion caused pressure to build up between my eyes, and I rubbed my temples in an attempt to alleviate the tension.

The smell of tea brewing tickled my nose, and my stomach growled in protest. I hadn’t eaten in hours. I’d forgotten to fix something protein-rich the previous night, and now I was feeling the wrath of such a rookie mistake. I headed for the small bathroom adjoining the room and was relieved to find that the ivy hadn’t yet spread beyond the bedroom.

Flicking on the shower, I stripped quickly and stepped beneath the scalding spray. It rained down on my skin, washing away the grime of yesterday’s failures and last night’s unexpected camping experience. I stayed beneath the water until my stomach couldn’t handle the hunger anymore and started growling loud enough for me to hear over the thumping rhythm of the water.

After switching off the water, I wrapped my towel around my body and headed back into the bedroom, my hair hanging loose around my shoulders and dripping water everywhere. Picking through the ivy that covered every surface, I managed to pry the wardrobe door open just enough to drag a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt free.

Something tickled at my feet, and I glanced down to find the ivy creeping closer to my legs. I moved back against the wardrobe, jolting as the ivy coating the walls suddenly latched onto my damp skin, the delicate tendrils caressing me. I realised then that they weren’t really after me; they wanted the water droplets dotting my skin.

Fascinated, I held my breath as one particularly large droplet rolled down my arm only to be absorbed into the tiny suckers of the ivy waiting for it.

A high-pitched, tinkling laugh echoed through the leaves as I carefully untangled my hair from the more overzealous branches.

Just what the hell was going on? It was utterly beyond me; never in all my time as a banshee had I seen anything like it, and I’d certainly never heard of the fae coming back from the dead. None of it was possible, and yet I was standing in the middle of it. I’d thought I was hallucinating when Clary appeared to me, but I had no other explanation for it.

After dressing as quickly as the ivy would allow, I tugged open the door to find the ginger terrorist sitting directly outside the room. She darted straight into the room, and I heard a rustling of leaves and a loud hiss as she became acquainted with the new decor.

I turned to find her backed into a corner as a vine of ivy wrapped itself around her tail.

The rustling of the leaves became more insistent, and I moved to grab the kitten only for her to be tugged out of reach. The kitten yowled, and I followed the plants as they moved to keep her just out of my reach.

“Just give her back,” I said.

The leaves fell silent, and the kitten hissed and growled in the ivy’s grip. Treading carefully, I grabbed the kitten and felt a moment of resistance before the vines gave up their hold and the kitten dropped into my arms.

She began to purr, the sound reverberating up through her tiny body as she dug her razor-sharp claws into my chest with enough force to draw blood. I looked down into her eyes, and she stared back at me with a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression in her green gaze.

“I swear, sometimes you cause havoc just for the hell of it,” I said to her.

She meowed, half-closing her eyes and making biscuits against my skin.

“Do you like causing havoc?” I asked.

She ignored me and purred louder, the biscuits becoming more insistent as I cradled her against my body and headed for the door.

I made it as far as the kitchen before the smell of toasted muffins assailed my nose and my mouth began to water. Samira had her back to me and was dancing around the kitchen to some inane pop song that gave even my jaded feet the urge to shuffle to the beat. The words, on the other hand, left a lot to be desired—something about falling in love and the beat of a heart repeating over and over.

“I’ve chosen a name,” I said, and Samira let out a small squeak of surprise before spinning around to face me.

“A name for…” She cut off as soon as she saw the kitten in my arms. “You went with Fuzzikins, didn’t you? I knew you’d come around to the idea.” I grinned and shook my head before setting the kitten down on the edge of the couch.

“Nope, definitely not Fuzzikins. We’re calling her Havoc.”

The kitten instantly meowed and gently head-butted the side of my thigh before raising a delicate ginger paw and swatting at my hand.

“See? She approves,” I said with a grin.

Samira narrowed her eyes and peered at the kitten. “I find it hard to believe that she would accept something so”—she fanned the air as though the right word hovered there—“uncatlike,” she finally settled on.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” My grin widened. “I thought you’d have a better argument for why we shouldn’t name her that, but as you don’t”—I paused for dramatic effect—“Havoc it is.”

The kitten meowed again and hopped down from the edge of the couch before trotting toward the door. A loud knock came a moment later, and Havoc began to sharpen her needle-like claws on the door frame.

Visitors were basically unheard of, and I could count the number of creatures who knew my address on one hand—and one of them was already inside the apartment. Tugging a small silver blade from the back of my jeans, I waved Samira back into the kitchen and slowly approached the door.

I heard nothing but silence on the other side, and I suddenly regretted not making sure the replacement door had a peephole.

“Who is it?” I called, my words dropping into the silence that surrounded me.

“Byron Rivera.” The moment I heard his voice, my shoulders dropped as the tension slowly leeched out of me.

Sliding the blade back into its hiding place, I popped the locks and let the door swing open. He stood with his shoulder propped against the door frame and his hands pushed casually into the pockets of his jeans. His dark eyes raked over my body and finally came to rest on my face; the blatant desire reflected in them caught me by surprise, and things tightened low in my belly. The urge to reach out and brush the silvery lock of hair from his eyes was almost overwhelming, and I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from moving of their own volition.

“You’re healed?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Looks that way,” I said. “How did you find this place?” I deliberately left out the bit about cloaking spells and glamour because I wanted an honest answer.

He grinned at me, and I suddenly understood the meaning of the phrase ‘a wolfish grin.’ He pushed away from the door frame and stepped toward me, but I held my ground, refusing to budge.

This was my territory—no way was I going to give ground to a wolf. Of course, holding my ground put him mere inches from me, allowing the warmth radiating from his skin to soak through the thin T-shirt I was wearing, sending a thrill of desire racing through me.

“I followed your scent,” he said, drawing in a deep breath to emphasise his point. The movement caused his muscular chest to expand and close the distance between us so that he was pressed against me in the doorway… almost as though I had planned the whole thing. Nope. The thought hardly even occurred to me.

“I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted,” I said, fighting to keep my pulse from spiking at his proximity. What the hell was wrong with me? I was a harbinger—we fed on sorrow and grief, and drew our power from Death itself, definitely not from attraction. Yet here I was, behaving like a lovelorn fool.

“Definitely flattered,” he said, leaning down toward me.

Havoc chose that exact moment to meow loud enough to wake the dead. She sped past me in a blur of marmalade fur and nails as she latched onto Byron’s leg through his jeans, climbing him as though he was simply another piece of furniture.

He growled, the sound rumbling deep in his body, and I saw a slight flinching around his eyes as Havoc scampered out of his reach, moving to the more sensitive inside curve of his leg. She flattened her ears and hissed as he caught her and slowly untangled her nails from his body, but the moment he lifted her to his chest and stroked beneath her chin she began to purr.

Byron’s gaze met mine, the heat in his eyes unmistakable, but the moment was well and truly broken. I was suddenly grateful for the tiny ball of trouble currently cradled in the alpha wolf’s large grip.

“Not exactly the way to a woman’s heart,” I said.

“What isn’t?” he asked.

“Telling her that you followed her home on the strength of her smell.” I kept my tone dry and scathing.

Byron studied me for a moment before his face erupted into a wide smile once more. “I guess you’re right, but in my defence it has been a very long time since I met a woman capable of turning me into a blathering idiot who makes mistakes like an untested youth.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he raised his face and sniffed the air.

“Breakfast,” he said, passing the kitten to me before moving past me into the apartment.

“Come in, make yourself at home,” I muttered to myself as he disappeared around the corner and into the kitchen.

The sound of Samira’s excited voice greeted my ears as I slowly closed the door and put Havoc down beside me. She sat next to me, and I bent down to scratch between her ears.

“Thanks for interrupting,” I said as she once more began to purr. “Shall we see if the wolf has left us anything to eat?” Then I shook my head. I was talking to the cat as though she could understand me. Clearly, I was losing my mind, but talking to the cat was definitely the least of my worries. Developing feelings for the wolf was way worse. Thinking about him in the kitchen eating breakfast sent warmth spreading through me, which was more than a little alarming.

Straightening up, I squared my shoulders and stared down at the kitten. “If I get in over my head again, feel free to claw the hell out of me.” Havoc didn’t answer, but she tilted her head to one side as though listening intently to everything I was saying. “I’m relying on you.”

I started down the hall toward the kitchen, and Havoc trotted alongside me. Putting my trust in a tiny ball of marmalade fluff… I was definitely losing my mind.

Chapter Eleven

Byron demolished the last of the toasted muffins, and between one heartbeat and the next the bacon Samira had cooked vanished from the plate in the centre of the table.

“Come on,” I said, “toasted muffins, fine, but nobody messes with my bacon.” I held my hand out toward him and he sighed, his mouth so stuffed with muffin that he couldn’t answer without dropping crumbs. He passed the last three thin strips of crispy bacon back over the table to me, and I dropped them onto my plate before picking up my cup of tea.

Byron eyed the bacon and then quickly washed down the muffin with the coffee Samira had brewed for him.

“You’re just going to let them sit there?” he asked, and the forlorn look in his eyes caused me to smirk and shrug a response.

“Maybe.”

“She won’t,” Samira said, returning to the table with another heap of crispy bacon. “I made more, so you two don’t have to be such children.” She piled the extra pieces onto the plate between us, but she may as well have poured them straight into the wolf’s mouth. I was pretty sure I didn’t even see him take a breath between pieces before they disappeared. Apparently wolves had an appetite as large as any fae I’d ever met.

Their bottomless stomachs were probably connected to the use of magic. The more power I burned, the more protein I needed to feed the machine that was my body. I’d only once chosen to neglect my need for sustenance, and the repercussions had been so severe that I’d never willingly neglected it again.

I closed my eyes against the sudden onslaught of images that paraded through my mind. The memory of flesh between my teeth instantly killed my appetite, and I pushed up from the table suddenly. The cutlery rattled, and Byron’s gaze weighed on me. His body was perfectly still, the kind of stillness that could only be achieved by a true predator.

“What’s wrong?” Samira asked, but I darted from the kitchen before she could question me further. I paused in the living room and stared down at the pattern that swirled around the hardwood floor. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen in my lifetime, and that was saying something. But Clary’s ability to turn the mundane into the extraordinary was a gift all her own.

The urge to go to the Between washed over me, and the smell of blossoms once again coated the air.

Byron’s hand on my elbow made me jump, and I turned to find him so close I could see the stubble on his jaw.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, I just needed some space, time to think…” How much could I trust him? I’d shown Samira the Between almost straight away, instinctively trusting her. But despite wanting to do the same with Byron, I couldn’t shake the feeling that trusting him would be far too risky. At the end of the day, he was a wolf who would be loyal to his pack no matter what, even if he claimed they weren’t really his pack to begin with.

“Can you hang here for a little bit, keep Samira company?” I asked.

“Where are you going?”

“There’s something I need to do. Nothing to do with the case,” I hastened to add as he eyed me suspiciously. “Banshee stuff that I need to do alone.”

He searched my face, and whatever he saw there caused him to relax, the tension slowly ebbing from his body as he released my arm.

“Yeah…Actually, would you mind if I caught a nap?” The sudden vulnerability in his voice caught me by surprise again.

“Of course, couch is yours.” I gestured to the brown, lumpy thing that I’d once rescued from a skip.

He grinned at me, and I could see the weariness in his eyes. What was keeping him up at night and so exhausted that he would feel relaxed enough around a fae like me to take a nap? Was it the case, or did he have someone else on his mind?

I discarded the thought as soon as it popped into my mind. If there was someone else, that was really none of my business. What he did in his spare time was up to him. Of course, if it was the wolf-bitch from the other night… The clothes I’d been wearing then were going to find their way to a bin as soon as possible; sex pheromones were impossible to wash out, and I really didn’t fancy working in the city while smelling like a bitch in heat. I’d draw every werewolf in a ten-mile vicinity, and that was the kind of trouble I could do without.

“Darcey,” he said gently, his use of my name drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for this…for all of it.” Something in the way he looked at me showed his sincerity. I fought to keep my reactions under control; the combination of his proximity, vulnerability, and raw honesty was intoxicating. It would be way too easy to simply fall into his arms and give in to the feelings he had awakened within me.

“Don’t mention it. The cost of my kindness is usually reflected in the bill.” I knew the words were a mistake the moment they left my mouth. He unnerved me, and I made stupid mistakes in an attempt to avoid falling into the trap I couldn’t help but think he was laying out for me. Of course, if I was wrong about it and the animal magnetism I felt for him was the same thing he was feeling for me…Well, I was being more than stupid, not to mention unnecessarily cruel to both of us.

“Good,” he said. “Let’s hope I won’t just be paying for your kindness.”

He matched my cruelty with a barb of his own, but I smiled at him and nodded.

“Samira,” I called out. She popped her head around the door as soon as her name left my lips, and I knew she had to be listening to our exchange from the kitchen door. “I’m heading out,” I said. “Byron is hanging around for a while… And you know where Mazik is if there’s any trouble.”

She nodded, and I knew from her serious expression that the moment we were alone she was going to give me an earful.

I didn’t wait for an answer; instead; I darted for the window and, beyond it, the fire escape. Gathering my legs beneath me, I hopped out through the open window and down the levels of the iron fire escape. It hurt to be in such close proximity to iron again, but it was a valuable deterrent for other fae who happened upon the building and could see through the glamour I’d created to hide it.

Once I reached the sidewalk, I darted further into the side alley. My feet carried me toward the Between, its energy beating against my skin like the fluttering of a bird’s wings. And the moment I stepped through the barrier, the tension I’d been carrying melted away, letting me suck in a deep breath as I cleared my mind.

As much as I’d made a life for myself in the human realm, the Between would always be my home. A place where I could be myself. A place where I truly belonged.

Chapter Twelve

Crossing the soft grass, I came upon the tree that had grown out of the ground the last time I’d been in the Between. Clary’s tree—her essence flowed inside the trunk that was growing taller and stronger with every day that passed. I couldn’t even wrap my arms around its diameter anymore, and the fresh leaves that were beginning to unfurl on the branches made me smile.

Beyond the tree, I could see the giant weeping cherry blossom that sat in the centre of the Between. The scent of its blossoms lifted my spirits and drew me toward it.

Finding a spot amongst the roots, I settled in, crossing my legs beneath me and closing my eyes. It was always so much easier to think here—no interruptions, nothing but the quiet, calming power and knowledge of my kind. Digging my fingers into the earth, I felt the power of the others who were buried here pulse beneath me in greeting.

As far as I knew, I was the last true blood of my kind. There were hybrids, and despite being rare they were still more plentiful than me. But here, among the dead, I wasn’t alone. Drawing a deep breath, I let the energy in the ground flow through me, and I felt those who were nearing the end of their time.

A true banshee with full powers didn’t need to reconnect with those who had gone before. Before, I simply would have been able to sense all those whose time was drawing short, but caging Mannan had robbed me of that ability. I needed proximity now, or at the very least I needed to already know the identity of the one destined to cross over. I had tied myself to the retirement home for that exact reason. Well, that and because there was something special about Dolores that kept drawing me to her.

I’d heard tales of banshees who were connected to certain Irish families, but as far as I knew Dolores wasn’t Irish.

I felt the energy in the earth change, becoming threads, each one representing a life nearing the end. One in particular drew my attention. Its thread was short and so much brighter than the rest. My heart constricted.

A child.

The other threads faded away, but this one’s pulse became stronger, more insistent, drawing me to it like a moth to the flame.

Children were always harder. It wasn’t pleasant to watch anyone cross over, but I considered it an honour to mourn their passing. Everyone needed their warning, and every soul deserved comfort in the end. If it were possible, I would give their lives back to them, but a balance existed that I could understand, to a degree. But when it came to children, I could not understand that balance. It wasn’t right, and it certainly wasn’t fair to take someone whose life had hardly begun, to rob them of so many of the things life had to offer.

I had never met Death, only heard talk of him, but feeling the child’s strand pulse made me want to meet him, to rail against him for something so unfair.

My eyes snapped open, and I climbed to my feet. I’d come to the Between to clear my head and realign myself, but all I’d really done was unsettle myself further. Shaking free of the power of the others buried around me, I went back toward Clary’s tree.

What use was there in having power if it only led me back to death, suffering, and grief?

My booted feet hit the sidewalk, and I gave a start and stared around at the alley. I hadn’t crossed through the veil, that I was certain of. I’d been distracted, but not so distracted that I wouldn’t have known I was leaving the Between.

Had I been kicked out?

When I peered down toward the end of the alley I could no longer see the veil, only the chain link fence that led to the back of the building and the piles of rubbish heaped against the wall. But absolutely no veil, and definitely no Between.

Clearly, the Between did not like me questioning it.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been kicked out. The Between had a mind of its own, much like Faerie. I’d also been kicked out right before I’d caged Mannan.

On at least one occasion when Faerie had decided to lock out its own people, thousands had died. Many creatures relied on the power that flowed through Faerie and were unable to survive in the human realm. But the fae had also learned a valuable lesson—they were not Faerie and yet their lives depended on it. And so the Court had been created to pay proper homage to the life that existed in Faerie and to guard against any such reoccurrence. I couldn’t help but think that the Court had become a little bit too big for their boots, though. It wouldn’t take much for Faerie to turn on the fae again, and then we would all be back to square one.

I didn’t wish to see innocents perish, but a small part of me—the part that belonged in the Unseelie Court—relished the thought of seeing the fae who had tortured me, who had taken pleasure in my exile, being forced to suffer the same fate.

Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes. The Between had locked me out, but I could still feel the thread of life belonging to the child I was supposed to mourn. She still had time left, and now that I was back in the human realm I could feel that the decision on her life had not yet been fully made.

If I was lucky, Death would change his mind and I would be spared the sorrow of mourning one whose life had barely begun.

But for now, I had other innocents to save. And as much as I hated it, the best place to start was with a little research. Heading toward the underground parking, I undid the locks and threw my leg over the bike, my mind instantly transporting me back to last night. Closing my eyes, I gave myself a moment to remember the feel of his body beneath my hands, the hardness of his muscles as I slipped my arms around his waist.

Shaking my head, I fought to clear the memory before I kick-started the bike. The last thing I needed right now was to take a spill because I couldn’t get a certain wolf off my mind. I sucked in a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and manoeuvred the bike out of the garage and onto the street. The engine purred beneath me, and I gave myself over to the bike, allowing it to read my intentions without ever having to direct it. Byron’s bike was a beauty, but this was one of the rare good things about being a fae—sometimes our gadgets were just better.

Chapter Thirteen

I pulled the motorcycle up alongside the red brick building and hopped off, securing it with the spelled locks I’d gotten from the Noree. Not that the bike really needed locks to keep it safe—it had a life of its own and the ability to take care of itself better than I could. But at least the locks would deter some humans from taking a chance on it.

The building loomed over me, and I stared up at the uniform rows of windows that overlooked the alleyway. The Elite spent their time trying to appear as normal as possible, utterly human and mundane, and yet many of the officers were as far from human as possible.

It was the ultimate irony.

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that their façade needed to be maintained for the sake of keeping the humans happy. They didn’t believe the monsters could police themselves. And they definitely didn’t believe the preternaturals were capable of being unbiased about their own kind. Anyone found working for them who wasn’t human suffered because of it. Hypocrisy at its best.

The thought of even entering the building left me feeling dirty, but after capturing the hybrid and handing it over to the Elite, Victoria, the changeling from King City, had given me a contact within the organisation who understood my unique position in the human world and wouldn’t judge me. Or at least that was what Victoria had promised. But trusting a changeling not to deceive you was a little like trusting a serpent not to bite, given the opportunity.

But what choice did I have? I needed information, and that meant paying a visit to the Elite.

Making my way around the front of the building, I quickly braided my pearly hair away from my face. At least the humans were finally beginning to experiment with hair colours beyond the usual red, black, brown, and brassy blonde.

Nowadays, if you could dream the colour, someone was willing to create it—for a fee, of course. Naturally, humans also experimenting with pearl-coloured hair made it easier for me to blend in, but they still hadn’t managed to make it look as natural as mine, and I often found myself on the receiving end of a million style-related questions. Adding the blue streaks helped to make it blend a little more and usually took the heat off.

Drawing a small hair elastic from my pocket, I wrapped it around the end of the braid and released it, allowing it to hang down my back over my leather jacket. I pushed open the door to the Elite offices, keeping my gaze averted as a group of officers pushed past me and out onto the street. One in particular caught my eye, and it took all of my strength not to follow him. He was nearing the end of his time—I’d felt it as his arm brushed mine.

Whatever he was about to do would get him killed, that much was certain.

When I’d been much younger, and far newer at being a banshee, I’d thought I could intervene, that my warnings could save the humans from their fate, but I’d quickly learned that wasn’t true.

One man in particular would haunt me for the rest of my days, and his death had cured me from ever trying to intervene when a life was already lost. Death dogged his every step, and whatever fate awaited him would be much more pleasant than the damage to his soul if I tried to save him.

Shaking free of the memories that haunted me, I headed for the front desk and gave the receptionist my biggest and brightest smile.

“Hi, I’m looking for Magda Smith,” I said. Whoever had thought that was a good fake name must have been high. As far as I was concerned, the woman I was looking for may as well have called herself Jane Doe. And it was beyond me how the Elite hadn’t at least raised an eyebrow over it. Perhaps they didn’t care who—or what—worked for them as long as they could pretend that everything was still run by humans.

“I’ll page her, but you’ll have to wait here,” the petite brunette said, her sour expression killing the smile I was so obviously wasting on her.

Turning away, I headed for the leather bucket chairs gathered inside the main doors. Dropping onto the nearest one, I angled my body so I had a good view of the main entrance, the elevator bank, and the door leading to the stairs. My back was still partially exposed through the wide expanse of tinted glass windows that ran along the front of the building, but I was betting they were reinforced. If anything tried to attack me, I could at least see it coming, and no doubt the glass would shield me partially, if not completely.

Leaning back in the chair, I watched as the young Elite officers I’d passed in the doorway gathered outside on the pavement, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. It seemed unfair that they didn’t know what awaited them, and the harbinger side of me itched uncomfortably. But I had work to do, and following them around the city to warn them of their impending doom would only get in my way.

“You can go up. She’s on the third floor, room eight,” the sour-faced receptionist said, cutting through my reverie.

Climbing to my feet, I looked once more at the group outside and then headed for the stairs.

“You can take the elevator,” the receptionist said.

“No thanks, I don’t fancy getting shut into a cramped metal box.” I forced a smile. I avoided elevators whenever possible; they reminded me a little too much of my time spent in Faerie and the Unseelie’s favoured torture method.

The receptionist shrugged, but I could practically see the cogs turning in her brain. She thought I was a weirdo. I suppressed the laugh that threatened to spill from my lips; in a place like this, I had to wonder just how many employees preferred using the stairs over the elevators, just how many weirdos like me walked its hallowed halls.

I took the steps four at a time, allowing my body to stretch but not enough to raise the suspicion of anyone watching on the security cameras dotting the landings. Reaching the third floor, I made my way down a corridor with overhead strip lighting that flickered and jumped, distorting the shadows in the hall and making me more than a little uneasy. When I found the office marked with a number eight, I knocked politely on the door.

The voice that called to me from within was higher than I expected, and when I pushed open the door my senses were quickly assaulted by the scent of incense and raw meat.

Magda sat behind the desk, her bright blue eyes watching me with interest. She shook her long, dark hair back from her face as she pushed up onto her feet.

“What can I help you with?” she asked with a slight accent that I couldn’t place. As I walked toward her, something on her desk caught my attention.

It was an open lunch box, and its contents were unmistakable, yet she hadn’t cared to hide them from me. The raw, bloody meat was beginning to sour, but I couldn’t quite figure out if it was human or animal; only a creature with a much better nose than mine could answer that question.

She cocked her head to one side and drew her lips back from her teeth, a second razor-sharp row now visible in the poor office light. From where I stood, I could just make out the torn and bloody piece of meat caught between both sets of teeth.

“Strzyga,” I said, fighting to keep the disdain from my voice as I eyed her.

I knew I’d failed the moment her eyes lit from within; the blue grew brighter, reflecting off her pale skin and making her look much more gaunt than she had just moments before.

“Banshee,” she said, uttering my true name.

Sucking in a slow, deep breath, I tried to ignore the scent of the spoiling meat and instead raised my hands in surrender.

“Look, I’m not here to cause trouble. Victoria sent me.”

“The changeling?” Her words sounded odd, almost rasping, through the double set of teeth.

“That’s the one,” I said. “She seems to have quite the sense of humour.”

Banshees and changelings notoriously didn’t see eye to eye, but they tolerated each other a little better than banshees and strzyga did. Some claimed that banshees and strzyga were one and the same, but as I stared at the creature standing on the other side of the desk, I knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, despite what the legends said, strzyga were actually closer to vampires than harbingers.

“Why would she send you to me? She must know I would eat your heart.” Magda’s words instantly set my teeth on edge.

“She knew, she just didn’t care,” I said with a shrug. “Or maybe that’s what she was hoping for.”

Magda stared at me for another moment before dropping back down into her seat behind the desk. The vivid blue of her eyes faded back to an almost human level, and I slowly uncurled my fists at the audible click of her second set of teeth ascending back into her mouth.

“I do not care for the changeling,” she said suddenly, indicating the chair opposite the desk.

“Neither do I,” I said. We’d reached an uneasy truce while I was in King City, but that was clearly done with. Why else would she send me to see a strzyga?

I took the offered chair and schooled my features into as blank an expression as I could muster as she reached into the lunch box and drew out a slimy sliver of dark, raw meat. She sucked it into her mouth, the sound of her lips smacking turning my stomach.

“This makes you uncomfortable?” she asked, pausing with a second piece of meat hanging limply from her fingers.

“We’ve all gotta eat,” I said, aiming for diplomacy.

She nodded once and returned to her meal, the wet sounds of her eating filling the silence in the room as she finished quickly and cleared away the box. I finally met her eyes as she washed her fingers with the wet napkins that had appeared on her desk without me noticing. She was fast, I would give her that.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I need to know if the Elite have gotten any strange cases of shifters going rogue,” I said, keeping my question deliberately vague so I wouldn’t have to share too much information with her.

Magda eyed me carefully, clearly searching for more information, or at the very least a reason for why I was being so vague. She apparently didn’t find what she was looking for, because she sighed before turning to face her computer.

Her fingers moved lightning fast across the keys, and I couldn’t help but notice the sudden furrowing of her brow. When she turned to face me once more, her gaze held more than just mere curiosity.

“What makes you ask me this?” she said.

“I might be working an angle, but I need confirmation before I can delve any deeper into the case.”

“You’re working a case for a shifter?” She steepled her fingers together on the desk as she leaned toward me.

“Look, I’m entitled to keep my sources confidential. You can tell me the information or not, but I’m not going to betray my client’s trust either way.”

She studied me for another moment before nodding. “Fine. There has been an uptick in rogue attacks, but that’s not particularly interesting. What stands out more is the number of shifters who have died.”

I waited for her to continue, but she sat back in her swivel chair and folded her arms across her chest. The silence stretched between us. I broke the stand-off first.

“What did they die from?”

She shrugged. “The reports don’t really have the answer to that; they just note that the shifters were acting strangely before their deaths and that their human bodies were found with multiple wounds, as though they had been viciously attacked.”

“How many were found? And was the species of shifter ever identified?”

“Nineteen have turned up dead so far. Six humans were injured but not bitten, so they won’t turn on the moon. As for the species—wolf.” Her face was an impassive mask.

Nineteen dead. That was far more than Byron had said. In fact, Byron had only mentioned the death of one pack member who he had supposedly murdered himself. But there was a difference between wolf shifters and werewolves—one was born, the other created.

Many people believed that werewolves were created, the disease passing through a bite, but that wasn’t true. Werewolves were born, and growing scarcer as each year passed. They could infect a human with a bite, but that human went insane, his or her body disintegrating before a full change could occur. As far as I was aware, no human had ever survived the first full werewolf moon.

Their shifter counterparts, on the other hand, weren’t so restricted. Their ability to infect and transmit the shifter virus was highly common. Many didn’t survive the transition, but the small percentage who did went on to become functioning members of society. Shifters weren’t as strong as their werewolf relatives, and their ability to shift certainly wasn’t as smooth or painless, but, unlike female wolves, they could reproduce without personal risk.

“You’ve thought of something,” she said, leaning toward me once more.

“Not really. I just find it interesting that the dead were all shifters instead of werewolves.”

Did the packs of weres simply protect their own far better than the shifter communities did? As far as I knew, the factions didn’t mix, but my knowledge of werewolves and shifters could fit on the back of a postage stamp.

“The Elite haven’t connected the dots on it yet, at least not until you mentioned it,” Magda said. “I take it you know of some wolves who have been infected by whatever this disease is.” The curiosity in her voice was unmistakable.

“I told you already that I will not betray my source, so stop fishing,” I said. “Is there a way for the labs to test the disease, to figure out what it is and maybe make an antidote?”

“There is always that possibility, but if I share this up the chain of command they will want to know my source. And if I tell them mine, then you won’t be able to protect yours.”

“Couldn’t you just leave that bit out of it?” I asked.

Magda shook her head before turning the computer screen around to face me. What I saw on the screen sickened my stomach. I’d thought the wolves caught between the shift looked bad, but the shifters—or at least what was left of them—looked far worse. The bodies were half rotted and fully human, and some looked as if they had been ripped asunder. It was possible that the shifter community was trying to take responsibility for its own by killing off the infected ones. Tearing them up until they were basically unrecognizable.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said in a low voice as I studied the images.

“Doubtful.”

“You’re thinking that maybe the shifters are policing their own kind. Allow me to disabuse you of that idea. What you are looking at is what happens to a shifter’s body after this disease runs its course… Read the reports.” She minimized the images and pulled up a series of neatly typed reports.

I scanned the pages, my blood freezing in my veins when I came to the part describing the wounds they had sustained. The injuries had occurred before death, the virus burning through the shifters before forcing them to revert to their human state as their bodies ripped themselves apart. The ligaments, tendons, muscles, and bones were literally falling apart at the seams.

“Goddess,” I said.

“She cannot help. If I flag these reports and put them together, then the Elite will start rounding up the shifters and weres. They might start doing it anyway,” she added quietly, and I even caught an element of sorrow in her voice that surprised me.

“How do we stop it?” I asked.

Magda shrugged and turned the computer screen back around to face her. “I have no idea. Until you brought this to my attention, I had not heard of it. The Elite have become much more suspicious. There is talk from the higher-ups that many of the branches have been compromised. There is talk of the sorcerers of old taking control once more.”

I dug my nails into my palms and kept my features neutral. I knew the sorcerers of old that she spoke of. Really, there was only one kind—the shadow sorcerers. And I had met one of them in King City. The girl hadn’t known the full extent of her power or even what lay ahead of her. Her thread had not yet been decided upon, but as I spent time with her I could feel the hand of death hanging over her. Whether that meant death for her or those closest to her, I didn’t know and wasn’t going to interfere. But the Elite might, and if what Magda had said was true, then everyone was in way over their heads.

Magda leaned toward me. “I find that cases such as these will either run their course, or you will find the root cause of the issue and nip the disease in the bud. Remove the source, and you can cut the head from the hydra.”

I nodded and pushed to my feet. “Thanks.”

She grinned at me, and her eyes lit up again. “If we were anywhere but here, I might try to take your heart.”

“And I might try to take your head,” I replied. “What was in the lunchbox?”

“Things that do not concern you.”

“If the Faerie Court gets wind of you eating other fae, they will send me to take your head,” I said.

She smiled, and her second row of razor-sharp teeth clicked down into place, making her mouth look overcrowded and her smile unnaturally wide.

“If they find out, I will know who to blame.”

Raising my hands again in mock surrender, I backed up toward the door. I despised her kind, mostly because of their cannibalistic tendencies—well, that and their ability to kill without conscience. The humans thought I was a monster belonging in the same category as the strzyga, but that wasn’t true. I wasn’t a monster… but the creature sitting on the other side of the desk most definitely was.

“If I find out more information, how can I contact you?” she asked, hissing through the rows of her teeth.

“I’ll come to you,” I said. There was no way in hell I was ever going to give something like her my address. I wasn’t quite that mad yet.

Her smile widened to almost impossible proportions, and she nodded knowingly. If I could say one positive thing about her kind, it was that they weren’t stupid.

“Run along, little harbinger, before my lunch no longer satisfies me,” she said.

Taking her at her word, I found the handle of the door and tugged it open, then stepped into the hall, where the lights were still flickering overhead.

The strzyga’s laughter followed me down the hall as I made my escape toward the stairs, picking up my pace until I was practically running.

Chapter Fourteen

I didn’t stop running until I reached the sidewalk. The group of young Elite officers had moved on, leaving me torn. Part of me was grateful that I didn’t have to carry the guilt of watching the young man’s life come to an end when someone like me could probably stop it. The other part of me felt sorrow for missing the opportunity to satiate the darker side of my nature that craved death and mourning.

I made my way toward the side alley where I had left my bike. I contemplated walking back to the office, but something drew me to the alley. The moment I saw her standing next to my motorcycle, my blood turned to ice and my heart came to a stuttering halt.

Auriella’s fingers trailed violet power across the locks as she cooed at the bike, her back to me.

“I will never understand how one like you came to have something so valuable,” she said, hearing me approach.

“It is of me,” I said, choosing to keep my answer short and snappy. The last person I wanted to spend time with was the Mother of the Hunt. I still hadn’t shaken the image of what she had done to MacNa or the look in his eyes as she brought his life to an end. I would carry it with me always.

“Hmm,” she said, sounding bored. She continued trailing her fingers over the bike, across the leather saddle, and up the polished bone handlebars. I fought the urge to squirm. It almost felt as though her fingers were caressing me; the bike, like the Bone Blade, was a part of me, and her sudden interest in it left me feeling uneasy.

“Is there something you wanted, Auriella?” I asked.

“You would dare question me?” She whirled around, her eyes flashing with anger as she stalked toward me. “Don’t you remember who I am?”

“I know who you are, but I do not answer to you,” I said. It was the truth. She was powerful and dangerous, but I served the Faerie Court and answered to Lunn on their behalf. Just because he was tied up with them didn’t change that.

“Are you sure?” she asked, leaning toward me, her breath sliding down my neck.

“I’m more than sure,” I said, holding my ground. “Why are you here? I didn’t try to summon Lunn, so you have no business with me.”

She pulled back and observed me slowly, staring me up and down the way a scientist might analyse a particularly interesting bug.

“You do not fear me?” she asked, leaning in further. “There was a time when I could make you quake in terror.” Though she whispered the words, she may as well have been shouting them.

I shook my head and continued to stand my ground. I would not take a step back; I would not back down from someone like her. “I do not know you well enough to fear you, Auriella. Not in the way you wish to be feared,” I finished diplomatically.

Her laughter was short and barked, bouncing off the walls surrounding us and spreading like the ripples of a stone in water. Power sparked along her arms as she met my gaze head-on, and I saw something utterly familiar in her eyes. I didn’t know her. I’d only seen her for the first time in the alley with Lunn when we’d been hunting MacNa. Hadn’t I? Staring into her eyes, I was no longer sure.

“You don’t remember the time we spent together in Faerie, do you?” she asked, her voice low and sultry and making my skin crawl.

“It obviously wasn’t as memorable for me as it was for you,” I said, gritting my teeth as she scented along the side of my neck.

“Perhaps,” she said, drawing away from me.

“I will ask once more. What do you want, Auriella?”

She moved lightning quick, her balled-up fist slamming into my face as she sent me spinning backwards into the wall. I tried to roll with the fall, but she was on top of me before I could even recover my stance. Her hand wrapped around my throat and she lifted me from the ground, pinning me to the wall, her eyes filled with rage as she stared up at me.

“Don’t ever speak to me like that again! You will give me the respect that I deserve, that I have earned.”

My fingers scrabbled at her clawed grip, and darkness ate at the edges of my vision. It wasn’t possible for me to die from lack of oxygen; fae went into a kind of hibernation when we were deprived of it. And I was able to heal most wounds she could inflict upon me, but she was fast—would I be fit to heal fast enough to keep pace with her?

As though to emphasise her point, she shook me the way a dog might jerk around a doll. I opened my mouth to answer, but the lack of air in my lungs made talking impossible.

When she released me, I dropped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. My body crumpled down upon itself as I sucked in several deep breaths.

After a few moments, I finally found my voice and stared up at Auriella, hating the submissive position I found myself in. But what choice did I have? I might still answer to Lunn, and while I could hold my own against most fae, she was the Mother of the Hunt. Her title gave her power, perhaps even more power than the members of the Faerie Court. Who was I to stand against someone like her?

“Where is Lunn?” I asked, the gruffness of my voice testament to how close she had come to crushing my larynx.

She glared down at me. “I told you the last time, he disobeyed a direct order of the Court and is now facing the consequences.”

“What does that mean? When will he be back?”

A moment of silence followed as I held my breath, waiting for her answer and wondering if she would even give one to me.

Auriella crouched down next to me, her leather boots crunching on broken glass as she came eye level with me.

“You won’t ever see Lunn again. You’re the reason he was punished, and the Court thought it was best to move him to new pastures.”

The fae couldn’t lie, but they could bend the truth…although I couldn’t see a way for Auriella to bend the truth quite so far. Lunn’s fate rested with the Faerie Court, and it seemed completely plausible for them to move him. But if that was true, was I now stuck with Auriella breathing down my neck at every turn?

“If it were up to me, he would never see the outside of a cell,” she said, her words practically dripping with malice.

“So if that’s true, then why are you here?” I asked. It was a dangerous question, especially since she hadn’t taken too kindly to it the last time I’d asked.

“I’m here to tell you of your next job for Faerie,” she said, a wide smile curving her lips.

I sighed and dropped my gaze to the ground as my heart sank into my boots. “What do they want?”

I could practically feel Auriella’s glee, but I kept my gaze trained on the ground to keep from seeing her happiness. I didn’t need to have salt rubbed in the wound.

“They want you to sort out a turf war between the water nymphs and a young vampire group in this city,” she said.

My head snapped up, and I shook it. “Are they mad? We both know the fae stay away from the vampires for a reason. We’ve been at war with them for centuries. If I approach them about anything, my head will end up on a platter.”

“These aren’t mature vampires, Darcey, so you don’t need to fear them. The Court wouldn’t send you into something you weren’t capable of handling.”

This wasn’t a job for a lone banshee. If the fae were having issues with vampires, the Court should approach the vampires’ High Council—anything else would be a suicide mission. But who was I to question the Court’s intentions? If I did that, I would have to worry about much more than just the vampires. And I imagined that Auriella would be only too happy to carry out the Faerie Court’s commands and drag me back there in iron to face my death.

“The Court’s command is my duty,” I said, pushing up onto my feet and turning away from Auriella. I could practically feel her heavy gaze boring holes into my back as I unlocked the bike and climbed onto it.

“Don’t dawdle, little harbinger,” she said. “The Court’s patience grows weary of your continued rebelliousness.”

“Is Lunn all right?” I asked, risking her wrath. He could have come back to tell me he was moving on, but he’d chosen not to. The Court had quite possibly decreed it to be this way, but if that were true, I had a feeling they would have also hauled my ass in to finish the job they had started so many years ago.

“You just keep pushing, don’t you?” Auriella snarled.

I stared at her uncomprehendingly. Why she didn’t want to answer such a simple question was more than a little suspicious. Telling me how he was doing certainly wasn’t going to hurt her.

“I suppose that’s why the Court has me out hunting,” I said.

She nodded and waved me away, but I kept one foot on the ground, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. “And Lunn?”

“He’d be better off if you forgot about him,” she said. “Now leave, before I really lose my temper.”

Biting down on my tongue, I kept my thoughts to myself and kick-started the bike. I opened the throttle and picked up speed as I steered it toward the road, escaping from Auriella and her gleeful grin as fast as the rubber on my tyres would allow.

Her presence certainly complicated things. The situation with the vamps would have to be dealt with as swiftly as possible, particularly if I ever planned on getting to the bottom of the sickness killing off the wolves.

Chapter Fifteen

I made it back to the apartment without further incident and found Samira sitting on the couch talking to Byron. They fell silent as soon as I entered, and I couldn’t help but feel paranoid. Neither of them spoke as I crossed the floor and pushed open my bedroom door. The room had become even more of a forest since I’d left, but its power was intoxicating, and I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes as it washed over me.

“Darcey.” Byron’s voice pulled me out of my reverie, and I turned to see him in the doorway. His eyes widened as the ivy slithered across the floor toward him.

“I’m not sure if coming in is such a good idea,” I said. “Havoc was in here earlier, and it didn’t take too kindly to her.”

“What is it?” he asked, staring down at the ivy that had come to a halt at the threshold.

I’d never realized that it wouldn’t be able to cross the boundary between rooms, but in a way that made sense. The rules of magic were complicated and twisted. Boundary magic was particularly complex, and the magic that had created this place had already crossed one boundary, travelling from Faerie into the human realm. And despite the fact that the magic in the air had a taste of Faerie about it, it had still done something incredible and probably needed to regroup.

I shrugged and fought against the ivy binding my box of weapons shut. It finally gave way, and I popped open the lid and stared down at its contents, contemplating what I would need to meet with the water nymphs. They were slimy critters at the best of times, and if they were feeling threatened by the vampires I had no doubt that their behaviour would be particularly vicious.

“Well when did it come about?” Byron asked, still looking at the ivy. I glanced back at him as he stepped away from a particularly curious piece of ivy that was slowly winding its way up the doorframe, stopping at eye level.

“Last night,” I said. “I think it had something to do with me healing.”

“You did this?” he asked incredulously.

“No. I’m a banshee, not a nature fae. I deal in death, not growing stuff.”

He nodded as though he understood, and I had to wonder just how much of a connection to the fae he truly had.

“What are you doing?” he asked, nodding in the direction of my weapons.

“Got to go and have a chat with a few undesirables,” I said, selecting some iron blades and a wickedly sharp machete.

“I thought you were working with me,” he said, sounding irritated.

Straightening up, I pointed the machete at him. “I am, but I’m bound by the Faerie Court. When they say jump, I jump.”

“Why are you bound to them?”

“Let’s just say my past has been a little checkered,” I said, skipping around the truth without actually telling a lie.

“I take it whoever you’re going to see is dangerous?”

“Vampires and water fae usually are, yes,” I said.

“Vampires?”

I nodded and settled the machete into my belt. “Yup. A nest of babies is taking over some water fae territory, and Auriella wants me to go in and sort it out…” I trailed off and watched Byron as he tried to hide the concerned expression that suddenly lit up his dark eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll come with you,” he said.

“No. When I said Auriella’s name, you got this weird look on your face… almost like you knew it.”

Byron shook his head and smiled. “No, it just reminded me of someone else.”

I eyed him carefully. He definitely wasn’t telling me something, but when he closed down like this I couldn’t get a read on him. If I were even half as good at closing myself off, I would save a lot of heartache.

“Well, at least tell me if it’s a good someone or a bad someone,” I said, and instantly regretted it. What if it was a significant someone? There was no way in hell I wanted to know that, and yet my big mouth had walked straight into the hole again.

“Definitely a good someone,” he said.

Nodding briskly, I grabbed the bag of holy items from the bottom of the box and headed for the door, pushing past him.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, following me into the living room.

“Nope.” I bit down on my tongue, hating the sudden jealousy that sparked through me. His life was none of my business, and yet part of me desperately wanted it to be.

I tossed the bag over my head and settled it around my shoulders. Holy items weren’t a guaranteed thing against vampires—they were sort of hit or miss. Silver crosses worked, but I didn’t know if that was only because of the silver, with the religious aspect being a mere coincidence. It still wouldn’t hurt to have the holy items with me, but I viewed them the way I viewed most things in life—if I had to rely on them, then I was probably already dead.

“I’m coming with you,” he said again.

“Nope, this is my job. I have to do this myself… It’s a fae thing.” That wasn’t strictly true, but neither was it a lie. There tended to be a bit of a grey area when it came to carrying out the Faerie Court’s orders.

Samira peered up at me from her position on the couch. “What am I to do?” she asked, and I swore under my breath.

I’d completely forgotten that having Byron hanging around was pretty handy. He was strong and resilient, and I knew he could protect Samira just as well as I could.

“If you’re looking to make yourself useful, I’ve got some things you could do,” Mazik called from the kitchen, and I spun around in time to see him swaggering into the living room with a piece of raw bacon in his hands. He rolled it up and sucked it in between his lips, chewing it carefully before swallowing.

“How did you get in?” I asked, eyeing the new wards I’d gotten from the Noree. She’d promised me they would keep most anything out, but Mazik’s presence called that claim into question.

“Is that any way to greet someone willing to save your arse?” he asked, his London accent drawing out over the last word.

“Answer the question, Mazik,” I said.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“I already don’t like it. Spill it.”

“Fine. When you put the new wards in, I may have added a little back door for myself.” He folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at me.

“You did what?” I exploded, crossing the room toward him. He slinked out of reach and shrugged.

“I told you that you weren’t going to like it,” he said. “You people always make everything so bloody unpleasant.”

“You’ve damaged the wards, and you expect me to be all right with that?”

“Not damaged, just added a little something that lets me slip in and out when I want. It’s safer that way. If something goes wrong here with little Sammy, who you gonna call, love?”

I cornered him against the back of the sofa. He gave me a wide, charming grin as he raised his hands in mock surrender. But Mazik was about as likely to surrender as I was to hand Samira over to the Noree to use as part of an experiment.

“I want it fixed,” I said.

“No can do. It’s a one-way deal.”

“She said fix it.” Byron’s voice had dropped to a growl, and Mazik’s eyes flashed black as the demon surfaced.

“Down, boy, don’t want you biting off more than you can chew,” Mazik said, his power crawling up my arms like thousands of stinging ants.

“Both of you, cut the crap,” I said.

Mazik laughed and backed away toward the front door. “Like I said, love, if Sammy is in the mood to get her hands dirty, she can always wander in my direction.”

“Get out, Mazik,” I said with a frustrated sigh.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than he was gone, leaving me standing in the living room with Byron and Samira.

“Bloody demon.” I moved toward the door and ran my hands up and over the lintel and frame. I could feel the ward buzzing away against my skin. It didn’t feel any different to me, but I always found it difficult to understand the Noree’s magic.

“It’s actually perfectly safe,” Samira said, leaning on the back of the couch.

“You knew about this?” I turned on her, and she nodded as she chewed her lip nervously.

“I saw him doing it. I thought you knew.”

Burying my face in my hands, I sighed in frustration. “No. If I knew, I’d have stopped him. If he can slip past the wards, then what else can get in?”

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s not that he’s slipping past the wards, more that he coded his DNA into them… if demons even have DNA.”

I stared at her uncomprehendingly.

“Look, he used blood to add his name to the list of people allowed in here without an invitation.”

“If he can do it, then what’s stopping others from doing the same?”

“They’d have to be in here first, and that pretty much defeats the purpose of the wards because you already would have invited them in,” she said.

It made sense, in a roundabout, warped way, but it still nagged at me. Could whatever Mazik had done be the cause of my nightmares?

“Go,” Samira said, waving me off. “I’ll be fine here. If I’m feeling lonely, I’ll call Mazik to come and keep me company.”

“I don’t know…” I said.

“I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine. And, anyway, you can’t babysit me forever. I need to be able to look after myself, and I’ve totally got this.”

I’d once seen her call a demon from the earth, so I knew she was definitely capable of looking after herself in the face of most nasties, but those brave enough to come to my door looking for trouble wouldn’t be the typical nasties.

But I didn’t have a better idea, and Byron wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the offers of help, so what choice did I have? If I didn’t carry out my tasks for the Faerie Court, then I would be up to my eyeballs in trouble… and they definitely weren’t the forgiving type.

I unhooked one of the blades from my belt and passed it to Samira. “If there is even the slightest hint of trouble, call Mazik. The wards should keep everything uninvited out, so at the very least the witch hunters shouldn’t be an issue.”

Worry gnawed at my guts as she twirled the blade in her hands and a wide smile lit her face.

“You really don’t have to worry. Besides, I’ve got Fuzzikins to keep me company.”

“You mean Havoc.” The kitten lifted her head and meowed gently before returning to sleep.

Samira smiled at me and shook her head as she stroked the kitten’s satin ears. “That name won’t stick.”

“We should be going,” Byron said, eyeing the overcast skies beyond the windows. “Vampires can go outside as long as they don’t directly expose themselves to UV light.”

“You’re not coming,” I reminded him, but he just smiled in response.

“If you try and stop me, you’re just going to waste more time than you can afford.”

Glancing out the windows, I had to agree with him. Just because the vampires were babies didn’t mean they weren’t deadly, and vampires had a predilection for fae blood—being a harbinger wouldn’t exclude me from the menu. It would be safer if I finished the job before nightfall.

“You’re right, I don’t have time to stop you. But you’ll have to keep up, and no matter how fast you might think you are, even you can’t do something like that.” I darted for the door.

I knew my bike’s abilities, and nothing man-made could keep pace with it. The sound of Byron swearing beneath his breath followed me onto the stairs, but I was already pushing through the doors and into the gloomy daylight. The motorcycle sat waiting for me on the curb, and I swung my leg over the seat as I heard Byron crash to the bottom of the stairs.

Either he’d jumped or fallen—and I hadn’t pegged him for being clumsy despite his size. I pulled away from the sidewalk, glancing back over my shoulder as he appeared on the street, his face a mask of fury that curled my lips in satisfaction.

He was good, but I would always be better.

Chapter Sixteen

I locked up the bike in the safest place I could find outside the abandoned industrial estate, which I realized, as I glanced around, wasn’t particularly safe at all. The whole area seemed utterly deserted, but I could feel eyes watching me.

As I took in the landscape, I could understand why both groups had chosen this particular area of the city. It was empty, devoid of any humans, which might have been strange if not for the multiple signs warning of sinkholes. Water nymphs didn’t mind the odd sinkhole, and more than one hole had been created by a particularly nasty nymph’s desire to run off the human populace. The vampires, on the other hand, were drawn to the rundown shopping mall on the edge of the abandoned space. It had plenty of places to hide from the sunlight, and the young teenage snacks sneaking in to party at night simply added to the allure, making it the perfect spot to create an empire of undead blood suckers.

I headed toward the nearest sinkhole, pausing at the edge and staring down into the water. Nothing shimmered on the surface or in its depths. Nymphs had a particular calling card that humans thought was bioluminescent bacteria when it was really just a weird jelly coating that covered the nymphs and protected their skin when they were out of the water.

If they were here, then the water would be filled with it. But I could only see a few lonely water beetles and some flies that had obviously misjudged the water’s surface.

I stared at the abandoned mall, contemplating getting a closer look, but there was no way I was going in there without good reason. Crossing the broken asphalt, I headed toward the next large sinkhole but was met with the same situation. This happened over and over until only the sinkholes right outside the mall were left to explore.

Why would the water nymphs choose to inhabit a space so close to where the vampires had taken up residence? If there were even vampires here to begin with, that is, because so far I’d seen absolutely no evidence.

Alert and cautious, I edged closer to the mall and the wall of mostly smashed glass that made up the front entrance. The sinkhole that sat directly in front of the entrance was the largest I’d seen so far. Reaching its edge, I stared down into the dark water in search of any signs of life. Something glowed faintly in the corner of the pool, and I crept around the edge in an attempt to get a closer look.

The glow extended all the way to the surface of the water, and as I got closer I realised it was also smeared along the edges of the broken rock and asphalt that lined the hole. The colour wasn’t the usual blue I’d been expecting, and I didn’t figure out what I was looking at until I was practically on top of it.

The blood of the fae, particularly the purest of the species, was violet. Water nymphs’ skin glowed powder blue in the light, growing brighter at night as their skin absorbed more of the light around them. But their blood was a brilliantly vibrant violet that glowed with their essence.

I stared down at the glowing violet blood that covered the jagged rocks. It was spread up and over the lip of the hole, and I could just make out traces of it throughout the overgrown weeds and grass that had sprung up around the hole.

Following the drops, I paused on the edge of the plaza that led into the mall and stared at the smeared blood that covered the ground. The drag marks were much more apparent on the open ground than they had been in the grass.

The water nymph had been attacked at the edge of the pool and then dragged back into the secure darkness of the mall.

“Shit,” I muttered beneath my breath as I peered into the almost impenetrable darkness.

If the nymph was already dead and I went in there all gung-ho to save her, the likelihood of walking out alive diminished with each potential vampire waiting for me beyond the grey sunlight that covered the plaza. But if the nymph wasn’t dead and I walked away, leaving her to suffer Goddess knows what kind of terrible end, how would I live with myself? Although, at least in that situation I wouldn’t have to worry about living with myself for very long. The Faerie Court had sent me in to settle the dispute; if I allowed an innocent of Faerie to perish when I could have helped, they would kill me anyway.

“Just gets better and better,” I said to myself.

A scream cut through the air, slicing it apart with almost as much force as one of my own cries. The scream came again, followed by the sound of running feet.

I drew my machete and watched the darkness just inside the mall. Something shimmered out of sight, and when the scream cut off abruptly I felt my heart drop.

The nymph was alive. Or she had been.

It was a trap. I knew it, and yet I was left with no good choices. Sucking in a deep breath, I raised the machete and crossed the plaza toward the mall. If I hated anything more than creepy Auriella and the Faerie Court, it was vampires.

Pausing before the darkness, I said a quick prayer to the Goddess—if she was even listening to me anymore—and stepped inside. I was going to need all the help I could get if I wanted to walk out of there alive.

* * *

The darkness washed in around me, thick and heavy. But it wasn’t completely black within the mall, and I could make out grey shapes I identified as tall pillars that seemed to sweep up out of the darkness, their pale marble reaching all the way to what I could only imagine was the roof.

From inside, I could tell that the light didn’t penetrate the gloom because of the black paint smeared on the glass, blocking out all potential light sources. Something scuttled in the dark and I turned toward it, using my machete to feel around in the gloom.

My eyesight was good, and despite being a harbinger, I still wasn’t a match for the eyes of a true predator.

Byron would be able to see in the dark. The thought popped into my head unbidden, and I quickly pushed it away. This wasn’t Byron’s problem, it was mine, and I would deal with it the way the Court expected.

My foot bumped something movable, and when I glanced down my eyes slowly picked out the shape of the discarded mannequin lying in the middle of the tiled floor.

I stepped over it, my foot sliding on the slick tiles and almost shooting out from beneath me. I couldn’t see what I had just stepped in, but I imagined that it wasn’t pleasant. Righting myself before I landed on my ass, I crouched down and drew in a deep breath, the taste of copper and iron mingling at the back of my throat.

Humans often believed that blood smelled like pennies, but beneath the metallic tang was a raw smell…and the scent of death. A normal nose wouldn’t usually pick up on it without knowing what it was looking for. That was the strange thing—death had a stench that I could smell even in the spill of blood I’d almost slipped in.

The stink had always been the first thing I noticed when someone passed. The body usually went through several moments of muscle spasms, involuntary breaths, and other functions that gave the mourning humans the feeling that their loved one was still with them. But from the moment the spirit vacated the body, from the moment the person actually died, their body began to decay and the scent of death washed over them, coating their skin, hair, and clothes. Blood had the same smell, particularly when it came from a killing strike.

As I pushed back onto my feet, another faint sound caught my ear. The noise formed a mental image in my head of nails on metal, and I knew without a doubt that I was being watched. The vampires knew I was here, and yet they weren’t rushing out to attack.

Young vampires were impulsive, and the scent of fae blood turned them ravenous, so nothing short of a master could stop them from behaving like piranhas during a feeding frenzy.

The moment that thought crossed my mind, my heart came to a shuddering halt. The vampires were young, and yet everything so far appeared completely restrained. If this was truly a nest of newborns, they wouldn’t have the wherewithal to cover their tracks. A little smeared blood on the plaza and the rocks in the sinkhole wasn’t the kind of carnage newborns left in their wake.

And they definitely didn’t have the sense to spring a trap. Their desire to drain the nymph would have been all-consuming. If a newborn had her, she wouldn’t have been able to run away. Hell, if a newborn had her I’d be lucky to find any whole bodies— most newborn nests were made up of the ripped remains of their victims.

I heard a giggle somewhere behind me and turned in the direction of the sound as it bounced off the walls and echoed through the cavernous mall. It was soon joined by another burst of laughter coming from my right, then another and another until I was surrounded. The laughter resembled a pack of hyenas and sent a shiver up my spine.

This definitely wasn’t any normal newborn nest—Auriella had to know that. The Faerie Court had to know, too, so why had they sent me here? Perhaps they were hoping I would die, but sending me to my death at the hands of vampires definitely wasn’t their usual M.O. For all their flaws, the fae were an honourable bunch, and if they wanted me dead they’d just as soon do it themselves.

Honourable, yes. Afraid of getting their hands dirty? Definitely not.

But if they didn’t know about the vamps, then they were being fed poor intel, and that by itself was a problem. I was one bounty hunter; granted, I was working in exchange for keeping my head attached to my neck, so my death would be a minor issue, but there were plenty of other enforcers like Lunn who worked for the Court because they wanted to. They were strong, powerful fae, with power far beyond anything I could ever hope to possess, and an asset to the Court. The loss of one of them would be a huge blow to the Court and the power it wielded. So if it really was an issue of poor intel, then how many others were being sent into situations that would mean almost certain death?

“Little one, what brings you here?” a voice called out from the darkness, cutting off the laughter abruptly.

The words echoed off the glass, making its location impossible to pinpoint, but I had a feeling that the speaker was directly ahead of me. Call it intuition, or whatever, but I could sense his immense power.

“I was sent on behalf of the Faerie Court,” I said, but I was cut off by a loud hissing that erupted from all sides, as though I was trapped in a pit of vipers.

“What does the Court want with us?” the man called out, the power in his voice searching for any weakness from me.

It wasn’t unusual for vampires to have powers beyond the average preternatural, but it was just my luck that what awaited me in the darkness was something more than just a blood sucker.

“They say you have encroached on the lands of the nymphs,” I said, keeping my voice as devoid of all emotion as I could. The last thing I wanted was for the blood sucker to be able to get a true read on me.

“I do not see any nymphs, do you?” he asked, sounding utterly reasonable.

“I don’t see nymphs, but I did see blood,” I said. “If you have killed them, we both know what will happen.”

“Yes, I know,” he answered, his voice growing closer.

I heard the kind of rustling sound that wind makes as it passes through the leaves on a path in autumn. A cold hand slid around my throat, and a hard body pressed against my back.

I could feel the power that animated him, an unnatural, malevolent force that kept him from the clutches of true death. I’d heard tales of vampires being little more than glorified demon-possessed creatures, but I’d never really spent a lot of time getting up close and personal with them, so my experience was limited.

But as this one pressed against my back, I could feel his essence, could feel Death as it longed to reach out with its bony fingers and pluck the thread of life that kept the creature from moving on.

Even through my clothes, the iciness of his body leeched into me, and I fought the urge to shiver. I didn’t want to give him anything—no reactions, no emotions, nothing.

“If you do this, you will reignite the war,” I said. “I am sent by the Court, and if I do not return they will declare the treaty void.”

“It was voided in Ireland,” he said, “and I thought the fae could not lie.”

I froze, my body taking on the absolute stillness that came from being a harbinger.

“I have not lied.”

“If you are not the liar, then someone has lied to you—I can smell it on your skin, a bitterness that taints you.”

“I did not lie,” I repeated, running the possibilities through my mind. Was he lying? It certainly wasn’t impossible…Wasn’t that something vampires were good at?

“No, it is not,” he answered as though I’d said the question aloud.

“Get out of my head,” I said.

His grip on my throat tightened, but I remained still. I would not start the battle. The moment I fought back, his newborns would descend upon me like ravening animals. But if I played along, made no sudden movements, and talked him around, then perhaps, just perhaps, I would walk away without getting my throat ripped out.

“I like it. Death stalks you.” He nuzzled in against my hair.

“That is where you are wrong. It does not stalk me—I stalk it.”

He laughed, the sound bouncing off my skin as he wrapped his other arm around my waist. The urge to jerk away from him washed through me with enough strength that I rocked on my heels, narrowly managing to keep steady. He hadn’t pinned my arms, yet he knew I held a machete in my hands. Hell, he was moulded against my body, so he had to know I was armed to the teeth.

“Such foreplay! You might lead one as old as me to believe that you want this,” he said, and I felt his teeth graze my neck.

“As old as you?” I repeated. “We are of an age.”

“True, but your power is gone, whereas I just get stronger.”

He moved then, his neck arching before he swooped down to bite. His speed surprised me, but as his mouth came down toward my neck, fangs fully extended, I snapped my head back and connected with his face and teeth with a resounding crunch.

So much for getting out of there without starting a war.

He roared, sending his creatures into a frenzy. He didn’t release me despite the force of my blow, but I felt his blood splattering down over my hair and neck.

Flipping the machete in my grip, I jabbed it backwards, slicing along my own side so close I felt the leather of my tight jacket part against the blade. It sank home, and I tipped it upwards, struggling to thrust the sword in the direction of his heart.

He fell away from me, taking the machete with him, and I rolled to the floor as another vampire raked his claws through the air where my face had been just seconds before.

I flung myself forward, my hand already inside the bag of holy items as the next vampire fell on me, pinning me beneath his weight.

I pressed my hands into the floor and bucked my body upwards, tossing him off with the strength of the fae blood that rushed in my veins. My power was not what it had been, but I was still fae.

I tugged the bottle of holy water free and sprayed it in an arc, directly into the faces of the approaching vamps. Their pained screams and the sounds of them crashing into one another were the only indications that I had successfully found my mark.

The howl of a wolf caught my ear, and something flew past me. The air was suddenly filled with growls and the crunch of bones as flesh was torn free, making my stomach turn.

As I hopped to my feet, something grabbed me from behind, its strength catching me off guard as it tightened its grip to vice-like proportions and began to squeeze. As I fought against the hold, each breath became harder and harder to take. Another vampire moved in front of me at such close proximity that I could see the flash of his dark, power-filled eyes.

He slid his hand around my throat, pushing my head back so that it rested against the shoulder of the one who had me in his clutches.

“You should not have come here, little one,” he said, his voice like the rustling of dry leaves.

He struck, his fangs sinking into my neck as I fought the grip of the vampire holding me. When I tried kicking him with my legs, he lifted me from the floor with a rough grunt. My arms were pinned to my sides, and though I clawed at his legs with my fingers, I may as well have been clawing at a brick wall for all the good it did.

The master vamp’s fangs slipped through my skin like a hot knife through butter, the pain surprisingly minimal as he began to feed.

Something cold grabbed my right arm, and the teeth that sank into my wrist were not as gentle as the master’s. I cried out as the newborn worried at the wound the way a dog might gnaw on a tasty bone.

A pained screech tore the darkness, quickly followed by a whimper, but the vamp’s power washed over me, sucking away my will to fight, my drive to survive. The more he fed, the more I wanted him to, and I arched my neck to give him better access.

There was so much he could give me, so much I wanted from him. Pain and pleasure mingled together, making it impossible for me to tell one from the other. I just knew that I wanted this—I wanted him to drain me dry, to suck the life from my body.

The moment that thought popped into my brain, I was jerked free of whatever power the vamp had over me.

I’d fought free of one monster in my past—Mannan’s grip on me had been all-consuming. Hell, I’d loved him, and not even that had been enough to stop me from breaking his hold on me.

“No,” I said, fighting the grip, but the vamp holding me squeezed a little tighter. My movements were weak, almost pathetic, but I could feel my power coiling within. The master sucking on my neck groaned in ecstasy, his hand sliding up into my hair to hold me tighter.

A fae’s blood was addictive—one drop and the vamps were hooked. That addiction had ignited a war that raged for centuries and had very nearly cost both sides everything. Life itself flowed in the veins of the fae. We were power because of our connection to Faerie. When the vampires fed from the fae, they were given back the rush of life that they lacked. I could already feel the dead vamp’s heart beginning to beat in his chest as he crushed his body to mine and bit down harder.

But there was one thing I could do that other fae could not.

I could die.

My connection to the Between and my abilities as a harbinger had me straddling the line between life and death.

I grasped the power that lay inside me, imagining my heartbeat slowing, my lungs shutting down, each breath growing shorter until there was silence.

The master jerked away, ripping his fangs from my neck as I went limp in the other vamp’s arms. The one at my wrist continued to feed, but it was pointless.

“No, no, the others lasted longer, she cannot be dead already.” The master’s voice rose in anger.

I watched from unmoving eyes as he grabbed the vamp biting down on my wrist by the hair and snatched him away, sending his fragile teenage body spiralling through the air and landing with a thump against the far wall. He cried out, but the master ignored him.

Embracing death had its perks, I thought as the darkness within the mall peeled away to reveal what lurked within the shadows. In total I counted thirty-five newborns, their torn, stained clothes making me wonder just how long they had been hiding in the mall.

The ones who weren’t gathered around the master, eyeing me with greedy, lust-filled gazes, had surrounded Byron. I’d heard his beast howl, but he had shifted back into his human form, and his body was covered in wounds, cuts, and bite marks that dripped blood onto the floor. But he was wielding my machete, slicing through those vampires foolish enough to get too close.

The vamp holding me jiggled my lifeless body. When I didn’t move, the master grabbed me, carried me to the centre of the room, and laid me out on the ground. His hands slid down over my chest, pressing and prodding with fingers that felt more like ice picks than anything human.

“I know you’re not gone,” he whispered to me, leaning closer so that he could stare into my unmoving eyes. “I want you to watch as I make your little wolf my pet. You may be able to play dead and deny me that which is mine, but he cannot.”

Anger welled in my core, and I fought to keep it from overwhelming the magic that kept me dead. I was weak, and the combination of blood loss and my own power, diminished by what I had done to Mannan, made it much harder to keep the magic in place. He watched me carefully, searching my face, but I clung to the power. If I gave in now, I would be as good as signing our death warrants.

The master rose to his feet and crossed the floor to where Byron continued to fend off the vamps. As I released the magic holding me in Death’s embrace, my heart took one stuttering beat, followed by another. I drew in a breath and my lungs responded painfully, expanding as my chest rose and fell.

My limbs tingled as my blood supply slowly returned, and the darkness surrounding me crept back in, leaving me practically blind. Rolling to my feet, I pulled my throwing knives from my belt and launched them in the direction of the vamps surrounding Byron.

Satisfaction curled my lips as the blades found their marks, and I heard the vamps hit the ground. Ducking out of the grip of the vampire nearest me, I crossed the space toward Byron. The master vamp’s voice curled around me, giving me just a second’s warning to throw myself to the side as his clawed hand cleaved the air. His fingers raked down my shoulder and latched onto my arm, spinning me back into his grip.

But the distraction was enough for Byron to cut down several more of the newborns.

“I knew you were not dead,” the master vamp said, running his hand down the side of my face.

“You should have made certain.” I met his gaze. “Byron, cover your ears,” I shouted, drawing air into my lungs.

The scream ripped from my lips, the high-pitched keening cutting through the air, and I felt the glass in the ceiling high above me tremble.

The master released me, recoiling as he clutched at his ears and face.

“Perhaps living inside a giant glass box wasn’t such a great idea after all,” I said, watching as blood ran from his ears.

I screamed again, and the glass windows and walls exploded, sending sparkling shards raining down on everyone.

Closing my eyes, I ducked and covered my head with my arms in an attempt to protect myself from the biggest pieces of splintered glass. Screaming erupted from around me, and the scent of scorched flesh and charred bone filled the air as sunlight streamed in.

I ran for the door, catching Byron’s elbow and dragging him out, my grip on his arm slipping as his blood slicked up my hands. Collapsing onto my knees on the asphalt outside the mall, I sucked in several deep breaths. My body was slowly beginning to heal, but I would need time and a good meal to replace the blood I’d lost.

Byron groaned amid the sound of glass hitting the ground.

“I told you not to come,” I said, meeting his pain-filled eyes.

“If I didn’t, you would be dead,” he said, pulling a particularly large piece of glass from his arm.

Laughter bubbled up inside me, escaping from my lips in little gasps that had Byron staring at me as though I’d completely lost my mind. And maybe I had. The move I’d pulled in there had been more than risky—it had been stupid. The last banshees who used their ability to straddle the barrier between life and death had been at their full power, but that still hadn’t saved them from what came next.

One lost her mind completely; the moment she had returned to the Between, the power of death had spiked, bolstered by Faerie’s power, and it had seeped into her veins, into her mind, and stolen it away. The others had been forced to put her down as an act of mercy.

None of the others had ever been the same; they had simply faded away over time, their magic, their bodies, their very souls lost to the universe. Lost to a place where even the Between couldn’t reach out to them.

Would that happen to me?

My laughter turned to tears that tracked down my cheeks before dripping onto the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Byron asked, moving closer.

“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m mad,” I said. And in a way, it was true; how could I expect someone like him to understand what I had just done? It was going to sound nuts. Hell, I faced death every time I went out, every time I visited the sick and the dying, every time my job for the Faerie Court required me to take a life. It was as much a part of my life as breathing was; there really was no getting away from it, and yet I didn’t fully understand what I had just done. Wrapping my head around it was definitely proving difficult.

“What did you do in there?” Byron asked, grabbing my chin and tilting my face up to his.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, whatever it was…” He paused, as though unsure of the right words. “Whatever it was, I felt you die. I listened as your heart came to a stop, your breathing ceased… And then you just weren’t there anymore.” His voice was low, strained by an agony I didn’t understand.

“I did die,” I said, keeping my gaze trained on the ground.

“So that’s it? You died, and I’m meant to just accept that?” His words held an edge of anger.

Pushing back onto my feet, I closed my eyes against the sudden swimming of my vision. Recovery was definitely going to take food and fluids.

“I’m not dead now, am I?” I said, gesturing to my ripped, blood-stained clothes.

He shook his head and climbed to his feet. “So you died. Are you going to die again or what? Because from where I’m standing, what you said sounds like a bullshit answer to cover up the truth.”

“Well you don’t get to choose what I tell you. I’ve said all I’m going to say, so accept it or don’t…”

At least his wounds had stopped bleeding, the blood drying against his skin, his naked body practically vibrating with rage.

“We need to get you some clothes,” I said, averting my eyes and staring out over the industrial estate. “How did you get here?”

My ears popped, and I turned to see Byron’s wolf slinking away through the long grass that ran alongside the mall. He didn’t look back, and my heart sank into my stomach as I watched him go.

Chapter Seventeen

Making it back to the office was more exhausting than I thought, and by the time I’d parked and locked the motorcycle I was only fit to slide in through the back door before slumping to the floor. My legs refused to move further, and a fine trembling had started in the rest of my body.

I kicked the door shut with my foot and sat listening to the silence that flowed in around me like water around a rock. I’d allowed the bike to do all the steering without any real input from me.

Glancing down at my arms, I was pleased to see that most of the cuts had healed, leaving behind pink scars that would eventually disappear.

I lifted my hand to my neck to feel the ridged indentations of the vampire’s bite mark. The one on the inside of my wrist looked even worse. I’d taken bites from heart hounds that hadn’t been as nasty.

Pressing my hands to the wall, I crawled upright and dragged myself toward the basement stairs, where a first aid kit, fresh clothes, and energy bars awaited me.

“I thought I asked you to come and see me,” the Noree said, her voice coming out of the darkness.

I jumped, the movement more effort than I was really capable of, and my legs cramped up beneath me, sending me crashing to the old brown carpet with a thud.

“You’re injured,” she said, and I sucked in a deep breath through my nose before pushing through the pain and straightening my cramping muscles. I felt like someone who had been hit by a ten-ton truck. Of course, I had died, so there probably wasn’t much difference. But I didn’t remember the other banshees talking about side effects…unless you counted death and fading into nothingness. But I couldn’t come up with a better reason for being in such bad shape. Anyone who wanted me dead right now wouldn’t have any problem finishing me off. Hell, I’d be lucky if I could fight my way through the plastic wrappers on the energy bars.

“Seems that way,” I said hoarsely.

Noree moved into view, her white cane slapping off the door jamb and threshold as she found her way out into the hallway.

“What happened?” she asked. It was such a simple question, and for a moment I found myself unable to answer. I’d half expected her to be happy about my injured state; she’d certainly never shown any care about my well-being before, so why start now? “Tell me, or I can’t help you,” she said, irritation colouring her tone.

“Why do you want to help?”

“What?”

“Why do you want to help? What’s in it for you?”

She sighed in frustration and removed the dark glasses she wore over her sightless eyes. The muscles contracted and spasmed as she stared down at me, and for a moment I could have sworn that I felt the weight of her gaze on me.

“Child, what did you do?” she said, crouching down next to me and reaching out her bony, birdlike hand to brush aside a strand of my hair.

I tried to move out of her reach, but she caught my chin between her thumb and index finger with a sharp pinch. Under normal circumstances I might have protested, but I had nothing left in me now. No fight, no will—I could feel it leeching away slowly but surely like the air from a balloon.

“I died,” I said.

“Harbingers are not supposed to die. It was not your time.”

“We can die. It is part of our power.”

She shook her head as she tilted my chin up and around, examining me from every position. “No. Just because you have the power does not mean you should use it. Were you never taught this?”

“They didn’t like to speak of it. But I know some of the tales of those who also died.”

“If you did, you would not have attempted this,” she said.

“Gregor.” Noree turned her head and called back into the office. “Gregor, come here and carry her down the stairs.”

A man—if I could even call him that—appeared in the doorway, his hulking frame filling the space to the point where I wasn’t sure if he would fit inside the hall. He stepped out, stooping so that his head brushed the ceiling. His hair was black, and because he was stooped I could see the patch of baldness ringing the top of his pate. His black leather jacket creaked as he bent over at the waist and scooped me into his arms as though I weighed nothing at all. When he tossed me over his shoulder, pain lanced through my core, but I didn’t have the energy to cry out.

I tried to struggle—getting carried around was definitely not my idea of fun—but my arms were leaden and refused to budge as he popped the locks on the door to the stairs and carried me down.

I listened to the sound of each wooden step cracking beneath our combined weight. When he laid me out on the basement sofa, I stared up at the cobwebs covering the wooden beams that ran the length of the ceiling. I was really going to have to get up there and clean them.

Noree appeared over me once more, her bony fingers rubbing something slick across my forehead. The smell reminded me of mothballs and cheese, but I kept that thought to myself as she moved out of my line of sight. I felt her cold touch against my chest, and I knew she’d rubbed more of the foul-smelling, sticky stuff there too.

She began to mutter beneath her breath in a language I couldn’t quite grasp, which surprised me. Banshees could understand all languages—it was a little hard to warn someone of their coming death if you couldn’t understand them and vice versa.

“What are you doing?” I asked a little more firmly.

“Drawing the death out of your body,” she said.

“Drawing the what from the where?”

Her words made no sense whatsoever, and when I tried to lift my head from the pillow I found that I couldn’t budge. The oil she’d rubbed on my head trickled down either side of my forehead and into my hair, soaking through my pores and into my very core.

The moment it found the well spring of my power, panic flared within me. I hadn’t thought to check for my magic, but Noree’s power had gone straight to the heart of me, and what it found there left me feeling nauseous.

The barest hint of a spark remained, so small that the least little wind could blow it out.

“Stop it. Stop, or you’ll destroy what’s left!” I fought against her hold on me, but my body refused to move.

“It doesn’t work like that, Darcey. Patience.” Her voice was soft, soothing even, but it did nothing to quell the panic taking root inside me.

What had I done? Was this the price I paid for taking death upon myself instead of life? Was this how the others had faded away into nothingness?

Noree pressed something cold in the area above my stomach, and I flinched inwardly, my physical form still unable to move. The moment it touched me, my skin stopped feeling cold and instead began to burn. The feeling increased until I was sure I wouldn’t be able to take the pain anymore. I longed to scream, but my voice refused to let me.

My body arched up off the couch, and I felt the darkness within me loosen as whatever Noree was pressing to me separated it from where it had wrapped its tendrils around my very soul. The darkness poured up and out of me, spreading through my body faster than I could draw breath. Something sharp sliced at my skin, and then I saw it—the darkness that had coiled around inside me streamed up and out from my centre. The pain was so intense that tears formed at the corners of my eyes and slowly trickled down into my ears.

I wanted to tell her to stop. That I couldn’t take anymore. But I had no words. The world seemed suspended in time, and I was cocooned in agony. Noree stared down at me, her lips barely moving as she recited her incantations.

“Darcey!” Samira’s voice cut through the fog of pain that surrounded me. Her cry tore at my soul, but there was nothing I could do.

Fighting against the pain, I slowly curled my fist as the last of the darkness drained away into the item in Noree’s hands.

She glanced down at me, and for a moment I could have sworn that her eyes weren’t gone, weren’t destroyed by the magic we had used to cage Mannan. She smiled at me, her lips moving but no sound coming out.

The world rushed back in around us, and Noree stumbled slightly before collapsing onto her knees. I caught her before she completely hit the ground, her body frail in my arms. She had also paid a terrible price for stopping Mannan. I had never thought about it before, but now that I could truly see her as she was, the realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

She was always pretending that she was tough, strong, that nothing ever touched her. It dawned on me then that she had clearly been using some sort of glamour to make herself appear tougher than she was, because I could now feel every one of her bones sliding beneath her skin as she lay limp in my arms.

Her face was slack, the wrinkles making her look far older than her true age.

Why had she been lying to me all these years?

Or was it a lie? She obviously had her reasons for such an extreme glamour.

“Darcey,” Samira said, catching my arm as I laid the Noree down on the sofa.

Blood trickled down the side of Samira’s chin, and as I turned to look at her I could see a bruise blooming down her cheek.

“What happened?” I said, remembering her pained cry and my inability to help her.

“Some guy tried to stop me from getting down here,” she said, eyeing the Noree on the couch. “What did she do to you?”

Glancing down at the unconscious woman, I shook my head. “She saved my life, but I’ll be damned if I know why.”

“It didn’t look like she was trying to save you.”

“Where’s Gregor?” I asked, changing the topic as I glanced around the room.

“Upstairs,” Samira said before looking back down at the floor.

As though on cue, the sound of someone moaning floated down the stairs.

“What did you do to him?” I asked, unable to stop my smile.

“Gave as good as I got,” she said, rubbing her chin ruefully.

I grinned at her as the Noree made a small moan and shifted on the sofa.

“Good, but don’t let her know that,” I said, pointing to Noree, who was slowly beginning to come around.

Samira nodded and headed for the stairs.

“Oh, and if he tries to lay a hand on you again—” I started to say, but Samira grinned and cut me off.

“I really don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” she said. “He may have hit me in the face, but I think I accidentally made him infertile.”

She disappeared up the stairs, my laughter following her.

“It worked, then,” Noree said, dragging herself upright.

“Let me help.” I reached out for her, but she slapped my hands away and muttered something in Romanian.

“You have done enough,” she said to me, daintily fixing her purple skirt around her legs.

“Not by half,” I said.

“We need to talk.”

I nodded. “That we do, but first I’m ordering food. After whatever in hell just went down, I have no intention of chatting about it on an empty stomach.”

She stared at me for a moment, the empty sockets of her eyes widening as though in surprise before she nodded and scooped up her black glasses from where they had fallen during her spell work.

“Fine, but I want Indian food,” she said.

It was my turn to look at her in surprise.

“What? Just because I’m a regină doesn’t mean I cannot enjoy all kinds of food.”

With a shake of my head, I headed for the stairs. Noree would never cease to surprise me.

Chapter Eighteen

I sat on the basement floor with my legs crossed beneath me, shovelling lemon rice and butter chicken into my mouth as fast as I could get it onto the fork. I was always hungry after using my power, but never like this and never so severely.

Noree was perched on the edge of the couch, picking at the food I’d given her.

“You asked for Indian food,” I said, before shovelling another forkful past my lips.

Noree smiled at me, but the cruel twist of her lips left my skin feeling cold. “It’s not the food; it’s what we must discuss.” She lifted her face so that I could see her pointed expression.

Samira cleared her throat awkwardly and picked up her plate. “You could have just said you needed privacy,” she said to Noree before making her way up the stairs.

“The child is very disrespectful,” she said, twirling her fork between her fingers with a deftness that seemed at odds with her nature.

“She’s not a child, and she can still hear you,” Samira called from somewhere near the top of the stairs.

Noree gave a long, dramatic sigh to indicate her boredom and complete disinterest in Samira’s feelings. The sound of the door slamming meant that we were finally alone, and Noree raised an eyebrow at me.

“She is still so young and yet should know better because of all that she has witnessed.” Noree laid her fork down on the side of her plate, then pushed everything aside and folded her hands across her lap, giving me a hard stare.

I contemplated ignoring her and just continuing to eat, but the woman had saved my life for the second time in as many days. As much as I disliked it, I owed her.

Ignoring my grumbling stomach, I put down the plate and cocked an eyebrow at her.

Noree began fidgeting with her skirt, suddenly more interested in the pattern of the fabric than in what we were here to discuss.

“Look, you came to me,” I said. “You’ve insulted Samira, and I’ve stopped eating so we can discuss whatever it is that’s so important that you couldn’t just pick up a phone to tell me.” I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but if I didn’t get my point across, I knew she would just beat about the bush until we were both confused and I was none the wiser as to why she was really here.

“I asked you to come back and see me,” she said. “I told you there was something else besides the poison from the wolf’s bite in your blood.” The accusation in her words hung heavy in the air between us.

“I’ve been a little busy,” I started to say, but she shook her head in irritation.

“I don’t care what you do in your own time, but when it endangers me and mine then I do care,” she snapped.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I recognise the poison in your blood. Not the one from the wolf, but that which came before. Now tell me what drove you to go to him.”

“Go to who?” I asked, confused. “Look, I really don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” It wasn’t directly a lie, but the sinking feeling in my stomach told me I knew exactly who she was rambling on about.

“I know about the bites,” she said.

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t lie to me! I recognise them. Did you think I wouldn’t recognise the mark of his true disciple? I had one of my own, remember? I still remember the feel of its slick skin against mine, the ever tightening grip before it struck.” Her words brought memories to the surface of my mind. Memories I wanted to forget.

“Stop it, I don’t want to hear it,” I said.

Noree dropped to the floor and crawled toward me. She grabbed my wrists, pinning them down by my sides faster than I anticipated. I could have stopped her—I could have fought her off, shaken her free, and gotten away—but I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. Her hands slid up my arms to the crooks of my elbows, rolling up my sleeves until the bites were revealed.

She twisted my arms, forcing them to turn so the marks faced the ceiling. I stared down at the ragged skin along the edges of each tooth mark.

“You went to him. You gave yourself to the beast once more…” She dug her fingers into the wounds hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

“I did not give myself to him,” I said.

“Don’t lie! I gave my eyes for this. I gave up a piece of my soul so you could lock him away, Darcey. And for what? So you could go running back to him when you grew tired of being weak and pathetic?”

“I swear, I have not gone to him…he came to me.”

She released me, dropping my arms as she shoved away from me, and scrambled backwards on the floor like a spider until her back touched the couch.

“That’s not possible. He cannot reach beyond the cage—we made sure of it. Each of us gave up something to make it impenetrable.”

“Something changed,” I said, dropping my face into my hands. I could still remember the feel of the shadow creature’s grip on my body.

“Nothing has changed. You came to me not that long ago, and I checked on the cage then. Everything was as it has always been.” Her tone was whiny and insistent.

“Well something has changed…something pretty fucking major,” I said, finally losing my temper.

She was always so willing to blame me, to make it all my fault. The mere thought of ever going back to someone like Mannan made my flesh crawl. I would never go back to him. I would die before I gave myself up to his creature.

“You love him, Darcey,” she said quietly. “That can do strange things to a soul.”

“I did love him, but that didn’t stop me from locking him away so he could never hurt anyone again.” I left out the bit about locking him away so he could never hurt anyone the way he’d hurt me. I’d sworn I would never again allow anyone to violate me, to violate who I was and the power I possessed.

I was a slave to the Faerie Court, but I still had a choice—death or slavery. It wasn’t a good choice, but for the most part I was allowed my freedom. When Mannan had taken my will, when he had used me…

“Never again,” I whispered, a lone tear tracking down my cheek.

“There is one thing that has changed,” Noree said, cutting through my reverie.

“What?” I asked, whipping up my head so I could meet her unseeing gaze head-on.

“MacNa is dead, and so the piece of his soul that helped seal the cage must have burned up,” she said.

“I thought when we pledged the pieces of ourselves, they would be impervious to harm,” I insisted. “How can his death have had such a serious effect?”

“It weakened the cage—it must have. How did he come to you? Was it a dream?”

I nodded. The nightmare had made me afraid to fall asleep again.

“Then MacNa’s piece kept the astral spirit trapped. With that gone, he is free to reach out to any of us, or to anyone else.”

The thought of Mannan reaching beyond the cage filled me with fear. There was another whom I had no doubt he would be reaching out to, and the Elite would not be able to stop him. The Elite were fine for dealing with rogue vampires or witches, but not something like Mannan. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if I was fit to deal with someone like Mannan, and I had locked him away the last time.

“We need to find a way to kill him,” I said.

“There wasn’t a way to kill him then, so what makes you think we’ll find one now?” Noree asked.

“What choice do we have?” I asked. “I’m not strong enough to cage him again if he manages to break free. Neither you nor I have anything more to give.” It was a bleak but honest assessment. Noree had given up as much of herself as she could—any more and she would have died, and then we’d have been back to square one. And I had given my power, the core of who I was, to best him, and still it hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t killed him.

Noree smiled at me, reminding me of the woman she had once been. “You always did have such a rosy outlook on life.”

“I’m a banshee. You want rosy, go and have a chat with a flower fairy.”

“I often wondered how your tongue could get you into so much trouble,” she mused. “Now I know.”

I didn’t answer her; the sound of feet crossing the upstairs floorboards held my attention, and I was on my feet before the door leading down to the basement even opened.

“What is it?” I called up to Samira, who came clattering down the steps like all the demons in hell were hot on her heels.

“It’s the Elite,” she said, her face completely drained of colour. I could see her eyes filling with panic, and I couldn’t blame her. I knew what it was like to be hunted, to have others wish for your death.

“Where?” I asked, stalking up the stairs.

“Outside. They said they want to talk to you,” she said. I could see too much of the whites of her eyes, as if I were looking at a frightened animal about to bolt.

“Relax, it’ll all be fine. Go to the basement.” I ushered her toward Noree, who had come to the bottom of the stairs.

Noree’s face was unreadable, but I knew she was no fan of the Elite. If they discovered what she was, I had no doubt in my mind what they would do to her. Despite the difference in cultures, the Elite considered the kind of power wielded by Noree and a witch as being the same. Where the Elite were concerned, your origins didn’t matter—a witch was still just a witch.

“But why would they come here?” Samira asked.

I didn’t have an answer for her, but I had a feeling their visit had something to do with my meeting with Magda. I couldn’t exactly tell her that I had gone to the Elite for information—Samira didn’t understand that sometimes you had to go places you didn’t want to.

Noree gave me a knowing glance, and I had to wonder just how much she actually knew about my movements. Did she have someone following me? If so, I wanted to meet them, because they were damn good at their job. I’d never once suspected anything, but the knowing look in Noree’s eyes said it all.

Turning away, I waited for Samira to lock the basement door. The faint buzz of the wards made me feel somewhat better. The Elite were good, but they weren’t getting into the basement unless they had a void. Hell, even if they attempted to burn the place to the ground, they still weren’t getting into that locked room unless I let them.

Sucking in a deep breath, I turned and headed back through the office to the main door. An unmarked car sat out on the street, but it was empty. Whirling around, I found myself face-to-face with Magda. She seemed smaller than she had while sitting behind her desk.

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon,” I said, looking her up and down. She wore a dark blazer and a cream blouse with a neckline tied around her throat in a pussy bow. It screamed expensive silk, as did her wide-leg black trousers. Surprisingly, though, she was wearing shoes that seemed utterly out of place—steel-toe cap boots that made my own tired pair of second-hand combat army boots that I’d already had resoled at least five times look especially shabby. The last time I’d visited my shoemaker, he suggested I just buy a new pair, which was easy for him to say when he wasn’t living hand to mouth. He wasn’t living at the mercy of the whims of the Faerie Court, who usually behaved like unmedicated lunatics and whose demands varied from the mundane to the outright impossible.

“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon either, banshee, but here we are,” she said.

“So, what can I do for you?” I asked.

“You asked about the werewolves and shifters going rogue but wouldn’t reveal your source. What if I told you there was a crime scene downtown where fifteen innocent people had been slaughtered by a rogue?”

I bit my tongue. What was I supposed to tell her? My job was to protect my clients, and yet I couldn’t keep something like that hidden if wolves were rampaging on the streets.

“I’d say take me there,” I answered. “Where I can judge for myself.”

She nodded and gestured to the waiting car, but I shook my head. “I’ve got to make some arrangements.”

“Your witch is safe from me,” Magda said. “I’m hardly in a position to throw stones, now am I?”

Samira hadn’t done any magic in front of her, that I was certain of, and yet Magda had known she was a witch. Of course, Byron had also known Samira’s true nature, but I’d put that down to his impeccable nose. Was it possible that the strzyga had senses rivalling a wolf?

“I still have arrangements to make,” I said, heading for the back of the office.

I stopped short when my eyes met Byron’s. The amber of his wolf lurked just beneath the surface, and the sorrow I saw there arrested my heart.

“What is it?” Magda said, coming up behind me.

Byron raised his fingers to his lips, and I could see blood streaked down the side of his hand.

“Nothing,” I said. “I just need a second to get past the wards.”

Byron melted into the darkness of the hallway, and I waited for the almost imperceptible click of the back door as he disappeared through it. Whatever he had come to tell me would have to wait, and him not revealing himself to Magda meant that my association with him would have to remain a secret no matter who was dead.

Pulling open the door, I met Samira on the stairs, her concerned eyes looking even wider than normal.

“I’m going with the Elite officer to look at a crime scene,” I said. “It’s connected to my case.” I forced as much meaning into my voice as I could. It took her a few minutes to understand what I was trying to tell her, but she eventually nodded and chewed her lip thoughtfully.

“She will be safe with me,” Noree said, her voice drifting up from the basement. “You have my word, Darcey.”

It took a moment for me to register Noree’s promise. The last time I’d asked for her help, I’d been forced to pledge all sorts of things in return. Her offering to help me seemed so unlike her, so wholly out of character, that I had to fight the urge to ask her to repeat herself. But Noree wasn’t someone you asked to repeat herself, and anyway, I had a feeling that her sudden altruism would just up and disappear if I scrutinised it too hard.

“I’ll swing by later and pick you up,” I said to Samira.

“No, we will bring her to you.” Noree appeared on the bottom step and looked up at me with a grave expression. I wanted to ask her why she looked so serious, but I was too afraid to do it. “I have a feeling this will take longer than you hope,” she added, as though sensing my sudden fear.

Noree was known for her visions and her ability to predict the future, so I was certain her feeling was accurate. Besides, who was I to argue with a woman who knew when and how she would die?

“Fine, I’ll try my best to get this straightened out ASAP,” I said.

Noree nodded and gave me a true smile for the first time since I’d met her. It was tinged with sorrow but a smile nonetheless.

“You didn’t see me die, right?” I blurted out. If she had, then I really didn’t want to know. But she was acting utterly bizarre.

“No.” She grinned at me. “Nothing so pleasant.”

And, just like that, I found us back to square one. Instead of answering her, I smiled reassuringly at Samira. “Are you all right with this?”

She glanced back over her shoulder at Noree, a slight tremor in her hand as she gripped the banister. But when she faced me once more, I watched her crush her fear back down inside.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, and then leaned in a little closer. “Just don’t be gone too long.”

Nodding, I left the door propped open and headed back into the office. This was the second time I’d left Samira in Noree’s care, but I felt no better about it. Even though Samira was a grown woman, she was still way too vulnerable to be left in the city on her own, especially with the Saga still hoping to get their hands on her. The collar made her a walking target, and the sooner I could remove it the better off we both would be. Until then, I would just have to put my trust in people like Noree and Mazik, which completely went against my nature. I was a loner, and so relying on others for help grated on me.

Magda stood waiting for me in the doorway, the cold evening air swirling into the office.

“Ready?” she asked, glancing past my shoulder. What was she searching for? Had she known Byron was here?

“Yeah,” I said, waiting for her to step out onto the street. After an awkward moment where nobody moved, I realized she was waiting for me to go first. But there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to give her my back. I didn’t trust her, and she was stronger than me. Without my full powers, I was basically a walking meal for someone like her.

“Ladies first,” I said, waving my hand in front of me in a sweeping gesture that would make any old-school courtier proud.

She eyed me once more before stalking toward the car.

“You sit in the passenger seat,” she said. “I do not like having others behind me.” She clicked her keys to unlock the car, the interior light bouncing off the buildings around us.

“Fine by me,” I said.

I slid into the passenger seat as she hopped into the driver’s side. The moment she pushed the keys into the ignition, heavy metal music flooded the tiny space. I cringed and shrank back against the seat, but the strzyga didn’t bat an eye as the eardrum-piercing noise flooded from the speakers. Instead, she spun the wheel and pulled away from the curb without another word.

If this was any indication of what was to come tonight, it was going to be one hell of a shit show.

Chapter Nineteen

I ducked beneath the crime scene tape in front of the small café and stepped up onto the pavement.

The front window was completely shattered, large and small pieces of glass littering the pavement in every direction like something had exploded out from the inside. Spotting one of the larger pieces of glass smeared with what looked to be blood and hair, I waved Magda over from where she stood talking to someone dressed head to foot in a white plastic jumpsuit.

“Have they collected all the evidence?” I asked.

“Not yet, so don’t touch anything,” she said.

I nodded and gestured to the piece of glass. “Looks like the wolf cut itself escaping through the windows.” The moment the words left my mouth, I couldn’t help but shake the memory of Byron’s bloodied hands—who did that blood belong to?

“How do you know it left through the window?” She was pretending to keep her gaze trained on the scene, but I could feel her eyes on me.

“The glass is out here, as though something came from inside to outside,” I said, before adding, “with considerable force.”

She opened her mouth to question me further, but I turned to face her and jammed my hands on my hips. “Look, you asked me here. Now, we both know I didn’t do this, or I’d already be in cuffs.” I gestured to the mess surrounding us. “So what gives with the interrogation?”

“I’m merely curious about your knowledge of investigative techniques,” she said, moving toward the café door.

“Bullshit,” I said. “There’s something you’re not telling me. And as for investigative techniques, I work as a PI, so they are exactly where they should be.”

She gave me a vague smile that did nothing to quell the anxiety stirring in my gut. I followed her through the door and into what remained of the entryway. The door itself was torn from its hinges and lay shattered on the roughly hewn flagstones of the café. The illuminated ‘open’ sign lay to one side, its string still attached to the broken frame.

The moment I stepped inside, my stomach turned at the sight of the devastation. The air was heavy with loss and trauma, and my eyes fell on a small child’s rucksack that lay discarded next to the broken remains of a wooden booth. The rucksack was covered with blood spatter, and as I stepped around the edge of the broken booth my gaze came to rest on the white sheets hiding the remains of whoever had been sitting there.

My stomach twisted again, and I could feel tears beginning to gather at the corners of my eyes. So much life needlessly wasted, and for what?

“Do you want to reveal your source now?” Magda asked, moving up behind me and placing her hand on my shoulder. There was no comfort in her touch, no warmth to soothe me. She felt dead. There was no compassion in her, no pity or empathy for those who had lost their lives here.

Nothing.

She had brought me here simply to shock me, to force my hand so that I would betray Byron. What had happened within these walls was horrifying, but the innocent victims had died at the hands of a sick creature that could not help what it was doing. I had no doubt in my mind that I would track down the one who had committed this atrocity and bring about a swift and painful end, but the werewolf was not the one at fault for what had happened.

I was. And Byron. And his brothers. We’d failed these people, and who would bring us to justice for our crimes?

“I need to go,” I said, turning toward the door. Magda blocked my path, staring me down.

“You’d leave after seeing all of this?” she asked, not in disgust but in surprise, which brought my anger bubbling to the surface.

“You thought you could bring me here and manipulate me into telling you my source?”

“I thought, as a banshee, you might care about the mindless death and destruction here,” she said, eyeing the room with disdain.

“I do care, and I’m going to put a stop to the creature that did this.” I balled my hands into fists at my sides.

“How?” she scoffed. “You can barely keep yourself alive. I’ve seen the surveillance footage of what that thing did in here. Do you want to know how long it took to rip through this crowd?”

I didn’t want to know. I’d seen werewolves in action before, and, much like their animal relatives, they were cruel and relentless. They were also at least three times the size of normal wolves, and governed by a human intelligence, making them extremely dangerous. But that didn’t change my resolve to hunt it down and put an end to it.

“Ninety-three seconds,” she said, carrying on as though I’d given her some sort of indication that I wanted to hear the rest. “Ninety-three seconds to reduce fifteen innocents to raw meat.”

I didn’t answer. There was nothing to say—I wasn’t going to budge, and neither was she. The only thing she could do was arrest me for hindering an ongoing investigation.

“If you leave here now, I won’t be able to help you when this hits the media,” she said.

Nodding, I moved past her and stepped back onto the street. The air outside was heavy and cloying but still better than the fetid stench inside the café.

I ducked beneath the crime scene tape and stepped down onto the road, avoiding eye contact with the crime scene technicians. I felt the condemnation in their gazes as I picked up my pace, beginning to jog, my feet pounding along the sidewalk as I ran faster and faster until my breaths came in painful gasps.

When I reached the edge of the shopping plaza, I bent over at the waist, sucked in a deep breath, and pressed my back to the brick wall of the building where I’d decided to shelter.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Byron said, his voice coming from the darkness of the alley next to me.

I didn’t jump. I’d heard his approach, and the faint whiff of pine and musk rode the air. Beneath it lay the distinct scent of blood, which I’d had my fill of for one night.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, keeping my gaze trained on the ground.

“You’re here,” he said, his silhouette appearing in the darkness.

“I was invited. They’re actively looking for weres and shifters after what just happened…” I cut myself off, not wanting to ask the question I knew I had to.

“Just say it,” he said before the words could even form on my lips.

“You smell of blood,” I said. “It wasn’t you in that café tonight, was it?” I continued staring at the ground, hating myself for even needing to ask.

“No. It wasn’t me, but it was a member of my brother’s pack,” he said, and my heart skipped as the tension in my shoulders relaxed.

“How did the werewolf escape?”

“That’s not the problem anymore,” he said, and I turned to face him with a frown.

“Then what is?”

“There’s a full moon coming,” he said. “With an alpha backing, a pack can usually avoid the change if they want to or have to.”

I didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, I stepped into the darkness. He moved away from me, but not before I saw the flash of amber wolf in his eyes.

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“The moon is different this time. It happens so rarely that most of us forgot it was coming… I’ve never seen one in my lifetime.” He looked at me. “It’s the Huntress Moon,” he added, as though that explained everything.

“I don’t know what that means,” I said, my stomach twisting into knots nonetheless.

“It’s one of the only moons that causes werewolves to lose control of their beast. The Huntress Moon is connected to the original curse on our kind—it’s the moon our ancestors were cursed under when they lost control and changed, wreaking havoc upon the villages surrounding them and murdering their loved ones who were not afflicted.”

“Okay,” I said, “so you’ll change, but you’re not infected. So it won’t matter.”

“Three of the seven in the basement are dead, Darcey, and one of the men from Ash’s pack shifted today as normal and then went into a frenzy… He’s the one responsible for what happened here.”

It finally hit me—the sickness and the Huntress Moon were somehow connected, and none of the wolves were safe from the disease. They would all shift, they would all lose their minds, and they would all slaughter innocents.

Ninety-three seconds. Magda’s words rang in my head. If it took just one rogue werewolf ninety-three seconds to rip asunder fifteen people, what could a whole pack do?

“But you shifted today and were fine,” I said, suddenly remembering Byron’s attack on the vampires that had saved my life.

He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t seem convinced. “Ash can still shift, too, but how long will that last?”

“Alphas are different, you know that,” I said. “If the others are at risk of shifting and succumbing to the sickness, then it’s clearly something that affects the pack and not the alpha…”

“We’re not that different from the others,” he said wearily.

“Yes, you are. An alpha’s ability to hold the entire pack—the control it takes to both force and prevent the change—makes you special. It’s why alphas are born and not created. Any old wolf can win a fight, but only an alpha has the power to lead.”

Byron gave me a smile I could just make out in the darkness. “That still doesn’t answer the question of what we do when the Huntress Moon comes.”

I shook my head. “Look, let’s deal with one thing at a time. The wolf that went rogue, where is he now?”

“I’ve been trying to track him, but I keep losing his scent around the park,” he said. “It’s like he tracked over and back on the same path to deliberately throw me off.”

That didn’t sound like the actions of someone who had completely lost his mind. A true rogue didn’t have the sense to cover his tracks.

“What happened to the three who are dead?” I asked.

“Ash stopped them from shifting completely and their hearts gave out,” he said, and I could see the toll their deaths had taken on him.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“They’re not suffering now,” he said curtly.

I caught his arm, and my hand came away sticky with blood. “What happened?”

“I helped Ash…” He kept his gaze turned away from me.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I said softly. “You stopped them from shifting.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to—I saw the truth in his eyes. His brother was an alpha, but he didn’t have the power to prevent his pack from shifting when under the influence of the sickness, which didn’t exactly bode well for the other pack members.

“Let’s go and hunt the rogue,” I said, changing the subject.

Byron gave me a grim nod and took off at a trot, leaving me no choice but to hurry to catch up. This time, though, I followed him without a second thought.

Chapter Twenty

The park was dark. Most of the street lights had been knocked out, and the only true light came from the almost-full moon that hung in the sky. As I followed Byron into the dense trees lining the dirt paths throughout the park, I struggled to listen for any signs of something nearby. But aside from the usual small rodent activity, nothing suggested that a larger and deadlier creature was lurking in the darkness.

Byron jerked his hand in a forward motion, and I caught up to him quickly. He pulled me in against a tree, pressing his body so close to mine that I could feel his heart beating steadily through the fabric of his dark hoodie.

“There’s a group of teenagers at the other side of the park, drinking,” he whispered in my ear, his breath warm on my skin.

“Do you think the rogue is still here?” I murmured against his chest, not wanting to move. If I did, I would be closer to his lips, and I needed to be able to think. The closer I was to him, the more his alpha pheromones screwed with my head, distracting me from what I really needed to concentrate on.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he said. “I can get his scent, but, like I said, he has been crisscrossing, muddying the waters ever since he realised I was on his tail.”

“Are there any other potential targets?” I asked. “Something else he might go for instead of innocent people?”

Byron shook his head and shifted against me. “The sickness causes them to go for the most carnage. I don’t know why, but that’s what happens every time. If he’s here, then those kids are going to be next.”

Although his words didn’t comfort me, at least knowing where we should head could allow us to potentially head off the werewolf before he had the opportunity to murder any more innocents.

“Let’s go,” I said, moving out of his grip.

“Don’t get too close,” he warned. “Let me take care of the rogue—you get the kids out of there.”

His voice held a gruff tenderness that I hadn’t been expecting, and I glanced up into his face. His eyes had gone completely amber, lost to the wolf that lurked beneath the surface. Then, in a blur of speed, he was gone, moving through the trees with the agility and silence only his kind could manage.

Drawing a deep breath into my lungs, I tried to steady my heartbeat before following him with the speed given to my kind.

I reached the edge of the teenagers’ playground, a literal playground they had taken over for their nighttime activities. I hadn’t been able to hear them from the other side of the forest, but the closer I got the louder their drunken revelry became until it was almost impossible to ignore. If the rogue was out there, he was undoubtedly drawn to the noise.

Something moved at the edge of my vision and then crashed into me before I could get out of the way. It was a pixie moving fast, her blades flashing in the moonlight as she stabbed down toward my heart. Raising my arms, I blocked her blow and drove her away from me as I rolled onto my feet. I had no time for this, but didn’t it always work out that way?

Right when you didn’t want them, pixie assassins came along to carve your heart from your chest. It was definitely how they should advertise their services—need your enemy to die at the most inconvenient time possible?

I fended off her blows as she moved like a blur, zipping in and out, always slashing with her blades.

One of the blades caught my arm, and pain ripped through my shoulder as she sank the tainted silver and iron blade home and then twisted it for good measure. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it was definitely inconvenient and intended to cause as much pain and discomfort as possible.

Ripping the blade free, she twirled in toward me again. I leaned back, practically folding my upper body backwards in an attempt to escape the swinging arc of her knife. She came after me, and I dropped to the ground, swinging my legs out from beneath me and planting them in the centre of her chest. Then I thrust her up and away from me.

She was so small that she flew backwards through the trees, the look of surprise on her face almost comical as she landed in the leaves and dirt. I was on my feet in a flash, and she had just changed her grip on the blade when the rogue came crashing through the trees behind her. His huge jaws snapped shut around her chest as he ripped her from the ground and tossed her into the air.

Shock rooted me to the spot as the pixie’s blood rained down over my hair and face. The rogue ripped into her small body despite her desperate attempts to fend him off. He dropped her to the ground, and she struggled to raise her arms to defend herself against the onslaught. My brain was sluggish, and I’d missed a couple seconds of the action as I’d stood frozen. Was this what the humans meant when they spoke about shock?

The pixie’s movements had slowed; the rogue had obviously severed something important when he’d tossed her about like a rag doll. Her arms no longer moved the way they should, and she stopped struggling as he pinned her beneath his huge paws. The snap of his teeth closing on her face and chest dragged me from my shock and back to the present moment.

No sooner was he done with her than he turned to face me. Viscera dripped from his razor-sharp fangs, some of which were longer than my fingers. He shook his head, and blood and gore splattered the leaves around us as I carefully tugged one of my blades from the sheath at the back of my jeans. He continued to watch me with eyes that were far more intelligent than any animal I’d come across, but there was still something utterly wild about them, something that told me reasoning with him wasn’t going to work.

Something rustled in the bushes next to me, and the rogue’s large head snapped to the side. His movements were fast, far faster than anything I could hope to achieve. A young, inebriated couple stumbled out of the trees, and the rogue’s eyes lit with excitement when he heard their gentle groans as they shared a passionate kiss.

Byron had said the rogues sought to create the most amount of carnage possible, and the eagerness in the rogue’s eyes told me he hadn’t been wrong. His tongue lolled out, slobber dripping from his lips as he dropped to the ground.

The girl fumbled with the boy’s jeans, and I weighed my options. If I moved toward the wolf, he would reach them in one leap and rip into them, potentially killing them both. If I shouted, I’d draw attention and probably bring the other teens running in our direction.

I was basically out of options, except for one. I might not be fast enough to reach the wolf, but I didn’t need to be. I just needed to be fast enough to reach the teens.

Drawing my blades out in front of me, I smiled at the wolf as the girl raised her face long enough to see me standing behind her boyfriend with two curved knives. As she opened her mouth to scream, I launched myself in their direction, and the wolf leaped into the air. I drove my body into the teens, knocking them out of the way. The girl’s scream cut off mid-formation as I shoved her out of the way of certain death.

Time slowed to a crawl.

The wolf’s paws slammed into my chest, driving the air from my lungs as he sent both of us crashing to the ground. Before I hit the dirt, I buried one of the curved silver blades through his chest, barely nicking the edge of his heart as the blade’s edge got stuck in his ribs.

His mouth opened wide, giving me a front-row seat to the rows of teeth that would soon be buried in my throat. Without thinking, I thrust the other blade through the bottom of his mouth, driving the silver tip through his tongue. With a roar, his jaw snapped down over my face, and I prepared for the end.

Chapter Twenty-One

The wolf’s weight disappeared from me, and a high-pitched whine cut the night as he hit the trees. Scrabbling back to my feet, I watched Byron fight the creature; his hoodie was scored down across the back, the fabric ripped open to reveal his tan, muscular flesh.

Power rippled outwards from where Byron stood fighting the rogue, and the urge to abase myself at his feet washed through me. He threw the wolf once more, and Byron’s power faltered, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived, but the rogue cowered against the tree where he had fallen, his black tail tucked in against his legs.

Byron glanced in my direction, and the relief on his face when he met my gaze sent a jolt through me.

Time caught up with us. Sound rushed back in around me as the sobs of the teenagers next to me reached my ears.

But that wasn’t the only sound.

The rogue snarled once and then jumped. His mouth closed around Byron’s shoulder, and they tumbled to the ground.

The Bone Blade appeared in my hand out of nowhere. Darting forward, I thrust the blade between the wolf’s shoulder blades, forcing it past the bone.

Power flowed in my veins, and I threw back my head and screamed, the sound bouncing off the trees as I felt the rogue’s life slip through my hands and the Bone Blade feed on the very essence of his being.

The wolf shifted, fur and bone sliding beneath my hands as his body realigned itself and he became human once more.

I shoved him away from Byron and dropped to my knees, scanning Byron’s face for any signs of life. My fingers slipped in his blood as I searched his neck for a pulse and found it beating sluggishly as his lifeblood flowed out through the gaping wounds on his neck and shoulder.

Death hovered nearby, and through my own grief I couldn’t tell if he was there for the wolf or Byron. Ripping off my jacket, I pressed it to the wound on Byron’s neck, applying as much pressure as I could without risking cutting off his air supply.

“Darcey,” he said, his voice thick with pain.

“Shift! You need to shift,” I said desperately.

“I can’t… the sickness… I can feel it…” He struggled to draw himself upright.

“You have to! You’re strong enough to fight the sickness, but you won’t survive the bite…” I could already feel the blood seeping out through the thin fabric of my jacket. Given how much blood Byron was losing, the rogue must have nicked an artery.

“I can’t…” he said.

“Do it!” I begged. “If you go mad, I’ll kill you myself…but I’m not going to lose you like this.”

He stared up at me, and I could see the longing and need in his eyes.

His back arched and power spread across his skin, and between one heartbeat and the next, his bones shifted and popped as fur flowed where skin had just been. I was now clinging to a silvery wolf, and I could see the dark grey markings in his fur that looked almost black in the night. The colour lay in the silver of his fur, the opposite of the Mallen streak Byron had as a human.

The wolf stirred, raising his head to stare up at me with pain in his amber eyes. The fur receded as quickly as it had arrived, sliding beneath my fingers as Byron appeared before me once more.

The wound on his neck was now smaller, the bleeding slowed to something more manageable, but I knew he would still bleed out if it wasn’t tended to—death would just take longer.

“I don’t want to be the one who says I told you so,” I said, helping him sit up.

“You just did.” His voice was strained, and I knew that shifting back and forth had come at a significant cost.

“We need to get you to someone who can patch you up,” I said, eyeing the oozing bite on his neck.

“Normally I would argue that I’m fine, but…” He trailed off, his skin ashen. It would take something pretty serious for an alpha to admit weakness. Well, that and complete trust in someone.

Despite seeing the longing in his eyes, I still didn’t believe that he trusted me enough to admit weakness. So that left only one thing—he’d shifted and healed as much as the sickness would allow, but he was still badly hurt.

“Noree,” he said. “Take me to her.”

I didn’t answer him, instead keeping my thoughts on the topic to myself. After all, hadn’t I asked him to do exactly the same thing? Who was I to question his choice?

Wrapping my arm around his waist, I raised his good arm and threw it across my shoulders, then tugged him gently to his feet. I was strong enough to carry him if necessary, but his size would make it seriously awkward and he’d be better off unconscious for something like that. He was an alpha, after all; I really couldn’t see him taking too kindly to me carrying him across my shoulders like a damsel in distress.

Glancing around the small clearing, I realised the teenage couple must have fled at some point without me noticing. The other drunken teens also seemed to be gone, and I wondered if it had been the stories of car-sized wolves or the sound of my scream that had frightened them off. At least they were safe.

As I passed by the body of the man who had been the wolf, I fought the urge to kick him. I’d seen the intelligence in his eyes when he’d weighed his options over the teenagers. Part of him had known what he was doing. The fact that he couldn’t help himself, that the sickness had driven him to commit such violent atrocities, stopped me from kicking him. Even though I found it hard to think of him as another victim, that was exactly what he was. His choice had been taken from him, and that was something I could understand better than anyone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The journey to Noree’s restaurant was even harder than I’d expected. Byron made a terrible patient; his unwillingness to let me carry him made him nothing short of impossible.

By the time I got him up the stairs and into her front room, I was almost fit to finish the job the werewolf had started on him. But seeing the look of surprise on Noree’s face when I’d half-carried, half-dragged Byron into her living room definitely lifted my mood. She was wearing a cream nightdress buttoned up to a high Victorian collar. Her salt and pepper hair was piled up beneath a cap, and I could just make out the edges of her curlers poking through.

“Sit still,” I said, planting my hand in the centre of Byron’s chest as he tried for the third time to get up from his chair while Noree prepared something in the kitchen.

“I don’t need to sit, I’m already beginning to feel better,” he lied. His colour was still horrendous, and blood continued to ooze from the bite without slowing its pace, leading me to believe internal bleeding was a definite possibility.

“Drink this,” Noree said, thrusting a glass into his hands. The contents smelled to high heaven, and I reeled back.

“I didn’t think I would see you so soon,” Noree said, inclining her head in my direction. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and genuine surprise.

“What were you expecting?” I asked, struggling to keep my tone neutral as I eyed the dark liquid bubbling in Byron’s glass.

“Nice try,” she said before turning her attention to Byron. “Drink, wolf child.”

“What is it?” he asked, staring at the contents suspiciously.

“Something that will make what I must do to close the wound that much more bearable.” She pushed the glass toward his mouth.

“I don’t need something to make it bearable,” Byron said, attempting to dodge the glass. Noree was far stronger than she looked, and she hooked her clawed hand around the back of Byron’s neck while pushing the glass toward his lips.

“I’d drink it if I were you,” I warned, “or she’ll crush the glass against your mouth.”

“I—mmpf—fiff—way,” he mumbled before finally giving in. He twisted his face up in disgust at the first sip.

Some of the liquid, so thick it could be called syrupy, trickled down his chin and clung to the stubble covering his face. Satisfied, Noree released him and watched as he finished the last of it before handing the glass back to her with a grimace.

“It tasted like swamp,” he said.

“Sounds accurate,” she replied.

“What’s it going to…” Byron trailed off, his eyes widening as his pupils dilated. He slumped over in the chair, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“I was going to ask the same question, but I can see what it does now,” I said, reaching out to gently steady him.

He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and swatted uselessly at my hand.

“He has been poisoned,” Noree said, poking at the wound on his shoulder.

“He was bitten by one of his own,” I said.

“It was a vicious attack.” She prodded along the edge of the ragged flesh, causing the wound to ooze blood a little faster. “Katia, fetch my kit!” she bellowed, catching me by surprise.

She turned back to me and met my gaze with her eyeless sockets, sans the dark glasses she usually wore, and I could see everything moving around as though the eye still existed and she could actually see me.

“He was supposed to die,” she said, catching me off guard.

“Excuse me?” A smile crept across my face. She was wrong; she had to be. Byron wasn’t dead. Nor was he supposed to die—he was sitting right here in front of me.

“You heard me, Darcey. He was supposed to die. What did you do?”

I stuttered like a child caught in an act of defiance. Except I hadn’t done anything wrong. At least, I was pretty sure I hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d simply done what was necessary to save him. Where was the harm in that? But that was a stupid thing to even think. I, above all others, understood the balance. Certain actions caused harm, sometimes minor harm, but it created a ripple through the fabric of time, knocking the balance off and costing hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent lives in the process.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said finally. It was the truth. I hadn’t done anything special… or had I?

“You must have done something,” Noree insisted. “First, you cross the boundary and take death into yourself… Just because you have that power doesn’t mean you should wield it.” She shook her head. “And now this? I saw his death, harbinger—it was bloody and it was messy, but it was a true death.”

She was calling me ‘harbinger,’ which meant nothing good.

“I swear, I didn’t do anything special. You know I gave up my powers for the cage.” I conveniently left out the part where the Bone Blade had appeared in my hand. That used to be a regular occurrence, and while the Bone Blade still answered to the harbinger side of my nature, I didn’t wield the level of control over it that I once had. And because I was weaker, the blade was weaker by extension.

Until tonight.

I had felt it feed on the werewolf’s life. Now that I was thinking about it, that didn’t feel right. But at the time, watching the blade feeding on his death, feeding on his soul, had felt more right than anything else had in a very long time. And that was enough to frighten me.

“You’ve thought of something. I know you have.” Noree moved toward me and grabbed my face.

Jerking away from her, I took a step back. I’d allowed her to read me in the basement, but I wasn’t going to do that now. Once per day was definitely one time too many.

“What I think in my own head, gypsy, is my own,” I said, pushing as much venom into my words as I could.

Noree looked shocked and recoiled from me as though I had slapped her. For a moment, I felt remorse.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” She cut me off with a wave of her hand and turned toward Byron and Katia.

“What took you so long, child? Why are you always so slow to complete such simple tasks?” She snatched the small leather bag from Katia’s hands.

“I am sorry,” she said, but Noree lashed out, leaving her handprint on the young woman’s face.

“Don’t take it out on her,” I said, moving to intercept the second blow, but Noree shrugged out of my grip and stepped away from me.

“She must learn, or she will perish at the hands of something like you.” Noree practically spat the words in my face.

“You can’t—” I started to say, but Byron mumbled something in his sleep.

“I can see now what the beast wants with you,” Noree said, her words cutting me to the core.

“What does that mean?”

“You are the key to his freedom, and he knows it. All he needs to do is find a way to force your hand, harbinger.”

“I won’t give him that chance,” I said, but Noree laughed, the sound echoing oddly in the small room.

“You talk like someone with a choice,” she said when she finally got her laughter under control.

“I do have a choice,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Do you know one of the last things he said to me before he ate the eyes from my head?” she said, changing the direction of the conversation with such speed that I was sure I would end up with whiplash. She leaned in toward me and hissed, “What I think in my own head, gypsy, is my own.”

It took a few seconds for realisation to sink in. Such simple words, petty and insignificant on their own, and yet they had the power to rock me to my very core. Those were his words, not mine.

Turning away, I stumbled to the other side of the room and planted my hands on the wall, letting my head drop down between my shoulders as I struggled to draw a deep enough breath.

“Do you feel him inside you yet?” she asked, her words carrying across the room, each one like a rock around my neck, drawing me closer to the ground.

“You’re wrong,” I said. “He has no hold over me. I would know it. I would know if he had me again.”

But I couldn’t stop the small kernel of doubt that sprang up in my heart. Would I actually know? I certainly hadn’t the first time he had taken over, not until it was far too late, and by then I was already lost to him. To make matters worse, I had my full powers at that time.

Now, however, I was weak. A pathetic creature whose mere existence on the earth did nothing to enhance it in any way.

“Would you know, Darcey?” she asked, her voice closer than it had been moments before.

Searching deep within myself, I found my answer and drew myself back up to my feet. “I would feel it. I know what it is to be controlled. To destroy at the whims of another. And I made a promise that I would never again allow that to happen. I would rather destroy myself.”

“What if that is what he wants?” she asked gently.

I didn’t have an answer for her. I could only say for certain that I would never again allow anyone to control me, and I would keep that promise to myself. No matter what.

Noree patted my shoulder, and her sudden kindness surprised me. “I know you fear him as much as I do.”

“Every time I close my eyes…” I said. She nodded, and I didn’t need to finish the sentence. She, above all others, understood.

“Now come help me fix your wolf as best as we can before the tonic wears off,” she said, moving back toward Byron and Katia.

“What about Katia?” I said.

Without turning to face me, Noree shrugged and gestured to the girl still holding the leather bag. “What do you want from me?” she asked.

“Your power,” the girl said, and the hunger and bitterness in her voice surprised me.

“And what will you do to get it?” Noree asked.

“Whatever it takes,” Katia said simply, and in her words I could hear the implicit threat.

Noree nodded, seemingly satisfied. Had she not heard the girl’s pledge?

Noree took the bag and waved Katia away, and the girl practically ran from the room. I noticed that she didn’t look frightened, or even upset, despite the imprint of Noree’s hand that stood out in stark relief against the pallor of her cheek.

“Do not worry your head about her,” Noree said. “She has only tried to kill me four times, each time less imaginative than the one that came before it. I’m beginning to lose hope with her.” Noree pulled what looked like a large needle made of bone from the leather bag.

“She’s tried to kill you four times and you’re all right with that?” I asked.

“It is our way,” Noree said. “The day she is fit to kill me is the day my power shall become hers. It only took me three attempts to kill my maestru.”

With a shake of my head, I stood beside her and watched as she pushed the bone needle through Byron’s shoulder while muttering something beneath her breath. I couldn’t see any thread on the needle, but power prickled along my skin as the wound slowly began to close and the oozing blood slowed to a trickle before stopping completely.

When she was done, she grabbed a jar from the bag and spun open the lid. The room suddenly filled with the scent of blossoms and roses. She slathered the wound with the pink, gritty mixture before replacing the lid.

“What about the sickness?” I asked.

Noree shrugged. “There is nothing I can do for that. He is strong, but it is stronger. That is why I sent him to you in the first place.”

“Yeah, why did you do that?” I asked.

“Because you were the only one I thought might have a chance of stopping the wolves should they go rogue. I hoped you might be able to find a cure before they all turned.”

“You know about the Huntress Moon?” I said.

She nodded, still busying herself with the bag’s contents.

“It is said that the first wolf was actually a god, and that he and a goddess created the were-shifters as we know them. But he supposedly fell in love with a human and bit her, turning her into the first werewolf.” Noree placed the bag on the floor before taking a seat on the sofa.

“But that’s not possible,” I said. “Everyone knows a human can’t survive the turn into a werewolf.”

Noree shook her head. “Patience. Let me tell the tale.” She settled back in the chair. “The goddess, so unhappy with what the god had done, poisoned the woman. The poison turned her mad, and that madness was complete on the Huntress Moon.”

“What happened then?”

“In her madness, the woman attacked the god. He was forced to kill her, but not before she cursed her daughters so that many of them would never be able to carry their children to term and would die in childbirth rather than suffer the same fate as her.”

“Could any of this be true?” I asked.

“As true as the existence of banshees and magic,” she said.

“What happened to the god and goddess?”

“It is said they destroyed each other, but that’s where the tale becomes a little hazy. The goddess is said to have given her shifter children the ability to spread their nature with a bite, giving them the upper hand against the werewolves. But that ease came at a price.”

I nodded. “Turning is far more painful for them, almost an agony. I’ve heard some even try to avoid it, but that usually proves impossible.”

The story sounded farfetched, but, as Noree had said, it was no more unbelievable than the existence of magic and the fae. Of course, most of the tales of the gods and goddesses were simply stories of fae in the prime of their power. I’d never been able to work out whether their power had come from being worshipped as gods and had waned as the belief in them faded, or if they had been powerful enough to rival any god and the diminishment of their powers was simply due to ageing.

“So where would the poison have come from now?” I asked. “It seems a little coincidental that something from the origin story of the weres and shifters is occurring now and wiping out both of them. Especially since it’s set to culminate on the Huntress Moon.”

“But the shifters will recover—they multiply faster than rabbits. Werewolves, on the other hand…” Noree shook her head and eyed Byron. “He wants to save his kind, but the future is bleak indeed.”

“Couldn’t you just tell me who is responsible for all of this?”

“No. Just as you are not allowed to interfere in the balance between life and death, I, too, cannot interfere in what is to come. In fact, I have already interfered far too much.” She pushed up onto her feet.

I didn’t try to argue. If the Noree had made up her mind on something, then she wouldn’t change it.

“I shall wake Samira and tell her you are here to take her home,” she said, eyeing the windows and the beginnings of the dawn light streaming into the room. “You do not have a lot of time left, Darcey. The first night of the Huntress Moon will be upon us two nights hence… If there is not a cure by the moon’s rising, many will die.”

“So no pressure,” I said, but there was no sarcasm in my voice. It was simply the truth.

She glanced in my direction and then nodded. “I will get Samira,” she said, making her way out of the room and leaving me alone with Byron. She was right. Many would die, especially if the rogue I had faced in the woods was any indication of what would happen to the others. Just thinking about it sent a shiver racing down my spine. Death had been waiting—I had felt him. When the werewolf had jumped me, I’d felt Death’s icy breath on my neck. And despite everything, I was still sitting here, alive.

Noree had thought Byron wouldn’t make it back alive. But as I watched him sleep, his breaths deep and even, his chest rising and falling, I knew I would have done anything to make sure he did. I was beginning to develop feelings for the wolf, feelings I had sworn I would never allow myself to have again. Hell, that was part of the reason I was so goddamned afraid of getting too close to Lunn. That man was sex on legs.

So how had I allowed Byron to blindside me? He’d gotten past my defences the moment he’d pinned me to the floor in my own office. I’d felt the attraction simmering between us, but had he?

Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I consoled myself with the thought that my feelings for Byron were artificial. He was an alpha wolf. I’d seen Samira go weak at the knees for him, and my attraction to him was simply due to his pheromones.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Darcey,” I said beneath my breath.

“Keep telling yourself what?” Byron asked, watching me from across the room.

“None of your business,” I snapped, suddenly angry at myself for getting caught, and angry at him for doing the catching. “Time to go,” I said to Samira as she entered the room with bleary eyes.

She nodded and grabbed her coat from the couch as Byron pushed unsteadily to his feet.

“I think I might need a little help,” he said.

“Fine.” I crossed the room and placed his arm across my shoulder once more.

He settled in against me, the hot press of his body sinking in through my clothes as we headed for the door. Luckily, the sky was still partially dark, because if anyone saw us crossing the city in such a state I didn’t know what I would say.

A car sat at the curb outside, the engine idling gently and the passenger window open. The moment he saw us, the driver indicated for us to hop in. I turned back to stare at Noree’s apartment, but the only indication that she was watching us was the slight twitch of the curtains as they dropped back into place.

“Looks like we’ve got a ride,” I said, helping Byron into the back seat and waiting for him to scoot across. Once we were all settled, the car took off, gliding smoothly through the city streets. I could feel the tension in Byron’s body as he sat next to me, his leg pressed to mine, but I kept my gaze trained out the window. If we were going to talk, then we would do it back at my apartment and not in the back seat of the Noree’s car. The driver was clearly loyal to her, and that woman had more than enough ammunition on me already. The last thing I needed was for her to find out the kinds of feelings I was beginning to have for the wolf. No, if I was going to make a fool of myself, I’d do it in the comfort of my own four walls, thank you very much.

Chapter Twenty-Three

We made it to the apartment, and Samira took one look at my expression before scooping up the kitten and heading for her room. I helped Byron to the couch and then made my way to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water from the filter jug on the counter.

The water was warm, but my dry lips didn’t care, and my throat slowly lost the scratchy feeling that had been bothering me all the way home.

“Darcey,” Byron said, and the husky way he said my name sent frissons of desire racing down my spine.

I turned to find him within touching distance, and it took all of my willpower not to reach out and run my fingers beneath the ripped fabric of his hoodie, to feel the warmth of his skin below.

As though he could read my thoughts, he groaned and brushed his fingers against my cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I leaned into his touch, all thoughts of keeping my hands to myself forgotten.

Moving into him, I pressed my face against his throat, inhaling the scent of pines and fresh snow. He wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me against him, his body fever hot, and when I glanced into his eyes I saw his wolf staring back at me.

“This is a bad idea,” I said, planting my hands against his chest.

“Why?”

“Because it’s too much like me taking advantage of you. You’re sick. Maybe when you’re better, but right now…” I trailed off as he tightened his grip around my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh, and my breath caught in the back of my throat as I imagined all the things those hands could do. I arched into his touch as he scored his fingers beneath my shirt, his thumbs brushing against my ribcage and sliding higher.

“I nearly died tonight. I felt my life ebbing away, and before that…” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “When I saw the rogue take you down, I thought you were gone.” The words were little more than a painful whisper, but I was so close to him I could feel every one of them reverberating through his chest.

“But we’re not dead,” I said.

“You’re not, but let’s be honest…the chances of finding a cure before I go rogue is pretty slim.” His eyes popped open once more, the wolf barely restrained beneath the surface.

“You might think it’s slim, but I don’t.” I forced myself to sound confident. I’d almost watched him die once, and I wasn’t going to do it again, even if that meant giving my own life in return.

“Darcey, let me have this,” he said, raising one hand to my neck and sliding his fingers up into my hair. He tightened his grip and tilted my head. I moved with him, my ability to fight his touch melting away as his lips met mine.

All of my reservations disappeared as he crushed my body to his, his lips brushing against my mouth, his tongue dipping in to taste me.

The hand on my waist suddenly felt different, his grip tightening past the point of pleasure as his kiss grew more desperate, almost hungry. I shifted in his hold, but his fingers became claws that dug into my flesh, holding me more firmly in place. He bit down on my lip hard enough that my mouth was flooded with the sweet tang of my own blood.

My eyes met his, but it was no longer Byron staring down at me. Twisting free of his grip and tearing my eyes from the beast’s, I moved away from him. He raised his fingers to his lips and tasted the blood that dotted his clawed fingers.

“You can control it,” I said, fighting to keep my voice calm as I watched him suck the blood clean, his eyes rolling in his head.

The beast within him growled, the sound echoing in the small space of the kitchen. If he jumped me here, I was pretty sure I knew who would come out on top. The only weapon I had left on me was the Bone Blade, and if I used it on him then nothing would bring him back from the oblivion it would bring. Then again, if he left me with no choice…

“Byron,” I said, the word whispered between us. I reached behind my back, my fingers closing around the handle of the blade still tucked into my jeans.

The beast growled again, but instead of lunging toward me he spun back toward the kitchen counter. He slammed his hand down on the granite top, the stone splintering beneath the strength of his fist. He roared, a long, pained sound, and I could see his claws retracting as his body curled in on itself.

Seconds ticked by, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding as he trembled on his knees on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Keeping my distance, I crouched next to him. He lifted his face and stared at me with his familiar brown eyes.

“It’s the sickness, not you,” I said.

“I can feel it spreading inside, Darcey, and…” He trailed off, his trembling momentarily worsening.

“You’re frightened,” I finished for him.

“Yeah. I am. I know I’m not supposed to admit that. Alphas aren’t supposed to feel fear, but I feel this disease spreading inside me and I can’t stop it. By tomorrow night’s Huntress Moon, I won’t be fit to stop it. If I hurt you…” He sounded utterly defeated, and my heart broke for him.

“The Huntress Moon is coming, but I’m not going to let it take you,” I said with more confidence than I actually felt. The look in his eyes after he’d kissed me had reminded me of the rogue in the woods. If that wolf couldn’t control himself, if the human he had once been couldn’t pull back from the brink of destruction, then how would Byron? Hell, he hadn’t even shifted and he’d almost lost control.

“I thought the fae couldn’t lie?” A small smile curled his lips.

“We can’t, so that proves it to you.”

Byron let out a warm, inviting laugh that drained some of the tension from my shoulders.

“We should get some sleep,” he said, glancing out the living room window toward the sky streaked with the red glow of sunrise.

“You sleep,” I said. “There’s someone I need to go and see.” I pushed up onto my feet.

“You need to rest too,” he said. “I’m counting on you.”

“I’m a banshee. Rest isn’t really something we need tons of.”

He nodded and carefully climbed back onto his feet, keeping well out of reach.

“I am sorry, Darcey,” he said, his eyes trained on the floor.

“Look, I know it wasn’t you.” I dismissed his actions with a wave of my hand.

“No, it wasn’t me, but that doesn’t make it right. My father was an asshole, used to beat my mom black and blue.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, unsure what else to say.

Byron laughed, but this time it held no warmth. “You know, he used to say that to her all the time, and I think he actually meant it. But then a little time would go by and her bruises would fade, and he’d be right back to beating on her…”

Byron walked stiffly into the living room. I followed him, giving him his space as he settled onto the couch.

“What happened between them?” I asked, without really wanting to know the answer.

“He killed her.” Those three words dropped into the silence like tiny explosives. “I tried to stop him. That’s where I got this.” He gestured to the scar that ran down his cheek.

“Your own father did that to you? How old were you?”

“Yeah, he half-shifted one night, and I heard her crying, begging him to stop, to leave her alone, but…” He stared out the window. “I was ten.”

I didn’t push him—if he wanted to tell me the story, then he would.

“I went into their room and found her on the bed bleeding… He kept ranting at her, that she was useless, that she was supposed to give him more than just two pups. I saw red, threw myself on him, and just started hitting him over and over… But he tossed me away like I was nothing at all…” Byron paused, and a lone tear tracked down his cheek.

“You were a child,” I said. “There was nothing you could do.”

“He took a silver knife that he carried everywhere with him,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken. “I can still remember the smell of his sweat as he held me down on the floor and sliced the blade down my cheek.”

My stomach twisted with the raw vulnerability of Byron’s pain. A parent was supposed to care for you and love you no matter what, not carve you up like a Sunday roast.

“He looked me dead in the eye and said if I ever came between him and his bitch again, he would rip my heart from my chest and eat it while it was still beating.”

“Christ,” I said, unable to keep the thought to myself.

“But my mom, she was brave… I tried to fight back as he used the knife on me, but despite what he’d already done to her she shifted and tore into him…” Byron’s voice grew gruffer with each word. “She hit the wall as I climbed to my feet and shifted back to human, and before I could do anything he was on top of her, clamped around her throat, and there was this weird sound… I didn’t know what it was at the time, I just knew it was bad, really bad. I know now it was the sound of her neck snapping as he shook her… She died instantly. For that, at least, I’m grateful.”

“Byron, I’m so sorry,” I said, unable to come up with anything better. In some ways, it was easier to comfort the dying than those who had been left behind. Nothing could ease their suffering, nothing could take away the pain of their loss. Words were just that—words. Empty and meaningless.

“There was this wailing afterwards… Made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my father…” Byron stared out the window. “God, his face when he shifted back and realised what he’d done…”

“He knew what he was doing,” I said.

“He did, but he said he wished it had been me instead, that if I’d just stayed out of the way she wouldn’t have died…”

Byron dropped his face to his hands and wrapped his fists into his hair. “I should have been able to stop him.”

“You were a child. That wasn’t your job.”

“Part of me knows that, and yet…” He lifted his face to mine, and his hopeless expression tore at my heart.

“What happened to your father?” I asked, but I had a feeling that I already knew the answer. Wolf packs had a hierarchy, and alphas were usually only toppled when successfully challenged by another alpha. In rare times, they died of something else, but that usually led to the disintegration of the pack. I knew for a fact that Ash was now in control.

“I grew up, challenged him to combat, and tore his throat out in the ring the same way he killed my mother,” Byron said without emotion. “He raised us after she died, and I use that term loosely. It was basically a series of beatings and getting locked up as punishment. He called it training, but everyone else considered it abuse.”

“So why didn’t you stay to help the pack?” I asked.

“Because I could see myself turning into him, and that frightened the hell out of me.” There was an honesty in his voice that I hadn’t been expecting.

“You will never be like that,” I said.

“I nearly killed you in the kitchen, all because the beast inside me got a little overly excited,” he said, bitterness infecting every word.

“I think I proved the first time we met that I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

Byron laughed, and the tension in his shoulders eased, making him look younger.

“You need to get some sleep,” I said. “If we’re going to get to the bottom of this disease, then I need you in tip-top shape.”

He nodded and lay back on the couch. “I really am sorry,” he said again.

“Stop saying that!” I got up from my perch on the edge of the chair and crossed the small space toward him. When I gestured for him to scoot over, he stared up at me in surprise and moved so I could lay down beside him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his body rigid.

“Proving that you’re nothing like your father and that you don’t need to keep apologising.” I wrapped my arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest. The rapid beating of his heart beneath my ear betrayed his panic. If it wasn’t so poignant, his reaction might have been comical. But it wasn’t. He had been betrayed by the ones who were supposed to protect him. Forced to kill his father for crimes committed in the past.

Byron’s arm slowly came around my waist, drawing me closer.

“You said you heard a wailing outside when your mother died,” I said.

“One of your kind—a harbinger. It hadn’t been the first time either… I’d heard it a full week before he attacked her, but I didn’t know what it meant. When my father heard it, he cursed it, said that the banshee did it on purpose and was deliberately stalking people and drawing death down on their heads…”

“Explains why you were so hostile the first time we met,” I said.

“We’re wolves, it’s in our nature to be hostile toward things we don’t understand.” His voice seemed far away, and his breathing deepened as he teetered on the verge of sleep.

When he finally drifted off, I lay there for another few minutes listening to the steady sound of his breathing and the pumping of his heart. I couldn’t begin to understand the cruelty he had endured—it all seemed so pointless, and the senseless murder of his mother left a bitter taste in my mouth. But he had been right when he’d said she was brave. I’d heard of mothers doing extraordinary things to protect their children—lifting cars from their bodies after traffic accidents or fighting off those who would do their children harm, even at the expense of their own lives. I’d witnessed mothers being forced to watch their children pass from this world to the next, and the agony I felt, the grief I screamed to the four corners of the earth, to the gods who would listen, could never compare to the silent tears of a grieving mother.

Slowly extricating myself from Byron’s grip, I stared down at his peaceful face as he continued to sleep. I would help him. I had to. He’d shared a piece of himself with me, something private and painful, and I knew it hadn’t been easy for him to show a raw and vulnerable side, especially as an alpha.

Byron was different, which was what gave me the faith I needed to know that he would hold on, that he would fight against the sickness with every fibre of his being. I just hoped I could find the cure fast enough that he wouldn’t have to fight too hard.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Making my way across the city on the motorcycle, I let my thoughts drift. Byron had survived far more than what was asked of many people in a lifetime, and for him to finally succeed against his father only to give it all up to his brother was heartbreaking. Something just wasn’t making sense; I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, but I knew to trust my instincts.

I stopped the bike on the road leading down to the mansion and killed the engine. The sun was almost up, its glow growing stronger with every passing moment. Swinging my leg over the seat, I tugged out the machete I’d packed in the bike’s saddlebags and started toward the house. Bearding the vampires on their own turf was risky, but I had the sun on my side. They wouldn’t be down for the day, especially the really old ones, but if the meeting went to shit, I’d at least be able to cut and run.

I felt the security team’s arrival seconds before they stepped onto the tree-lined avenue. Typical vampires and their human servants. It made sense—if I were vulnerable during certain hours, I’d probably want someone to protect my homestead, but that was the difference between the vamps and the fae. Unlike them, we weren’t ever vulnerable.

“Look, I’m not here to cause trouble,” I said, raising the hand that wasn’t holding the machete.

“Sure doesn’t look that way to me,” one man said, stepping forward, his skin so black I was sure I could see sapphire undertones in the faint morning light. He stood before me like a warrior poised for battle; his black tactical gear made me look somewhat underdressed for the occasion, and the semi-automatic machine gun slung across his chest didn’t make me feel much better.

“I’m here to see the queen,” I said, dropping my arms to my sides.

“She’s not taking visitors,” he said. He didn’t bother checking with the guards up at the house, which told me he was the one running the show security-wise.

“You’re one of hers, aren’t you?” I asked, stepping closer to him. “Can she see me right now?”

He leaned toward me and sniffed the air near my face, his movements much faster than any human I’d ever met. “She’s not taking visitors,” he repeated.

“I’m here to discuss the little matter of one of her masters taking over some fae territory,” I said.

He paused for a moment and tilted his head to the side, as though listening to something only he could hear. When he opened his mouth to speak again, I waved his words away. “Let me guess, she’s still not taking any visitors?”

His smirk set my teeth on edge, and I flexed my fingers on the handle of the machete.

“Tell her I killed that master today,” I said, and his smirk froze in place. “Does she want to take visitors now?”

As I stared at him, his face went slack and his eyes lost their focus. The sudden shift left me feeling off balance. What the hell was going on? From where I stood, it looked as though he’d upped and left his body. Perhaps he had.

“She will see you now,” he said quite abruptly, his expression switching back to neutral as his personality flowed back into his features and his eyes refocused once more.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” The urge to taunt him washed over me, but that would be too petty of me, especially since I was here on official Court business. They wouldn’t look too kindly on my actions if everything went pear-shaped; of course, if it did, I’d probably be too dead to care.

The security guy turned away and started up the drive, his pace unrelenting as though he was being drawn forward by an invisible thread. When we reached the house, the other soldiers, who had fallen into formation behind and to the sides of me, broke away and circled back toward the house’s perimeter, each moving like a finely tuned machine.

My escort took me up the steps and into the main foyer. Once inside, he paused and turned to face me.

“Weapons,” he said, gesturing to the very visible machete in my hands.

“Not a hope,” I said.

“Then you go no further.”

“Look, whatever your name is, no way am I walking into the hive with no weapons… I’ve been on the planet a lot longer than you have, and I know that vamps aren’t to be trusted.”

“She gives her word you will not be harmed,” he said.

I laughed, the sound echoing throughout the marble foyer. “Her word? She’s a vampire, so her word isn’t worth much. Especially if the truce has been broken,” I said, adding the bit of knowledge I’d gleaned from the master I’d killed in the derelict mall.

He seemed to consider my words for a minute—well, I supposed the queen bitch herself was the one doing the considering. After a couple of seconds, he nodded. “Very well, you can keep your weapon as a sign of good faith.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and made his way out of the hall, leading me deeper into the house. Rich tapestries covered the walls, showcasing wars long past, scenes of debauchery that would put any good brothel to shame, and the obligatory images of the vamps leading their kind to all sorts of victories.

We descended steep, curved stairs, the walls surrounding us lit with huge sconces that illuminated the red-veined marble beneath our feet. Upon reaching the bottom, I could see a huge, solid iron door at the end of the corridor stretching out before us. The sight of it caused my palms to break out in a clammy sweat, and I followed the human toward it as the old adage of leading a lamb to slaughter sprang to my mind.

How many of my kind had been forced to walk toward the same door?

The human servant reached the door before I did and shoved it open, the muscles in his back bunching beneath his black jumper. He glanced back at me. “Are you coming?”

Without hesitation, I crossed the threshold into a marble room. The entire space was so bright that my eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the glare that seemed to bounce off every surface. Floor-to-ceiling white marble gave the room the appearance of being the inside of a mausoleum, and the scent of rotting roses only accentuated its tomb-like qualities.

At one end of the room, perched on a dais, was who I assumed to be the queen of the hive. Her blonde hair, shimmering around her like a cloak, was draped across her naked body. Her lips were the brightest red I had ever seen, and her skin was as pale as the marble surrounding us. As I stared at her white marble throne accented with gold, I couldn’t help but wonder how her ass wasn’t frozen to the cold surface.

“I expected you to be different,” she said, her voice girlish and high. I felt her piercing blue eyes take me in, raking over my body and then falling on the machete. A small smile curled her crimson lips.

“If you were a man, I might ask if you were compensating for something.” She lifted one perfectly manicured hand in front of her as she gestured to the blade.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said.

“Not disappointing at all. Most of the fae who have visited me came with no weapons other than their arrogance and ego. You seem to have enough sense to know I deserve, at the very least, the respect of an exceptionally long blade.” She seemed to roll each word around in her mouth, tasting it before serving it up to me.

“You came here to report the death of one of mine?” she asked, her curiosity catching me off guard.

“He had taken some fae territory and murdered the fae who had claimed it first, and so I levelled the playing field.”

“If you plan to kill us, then you should know that it takes a lot of direct sunlight to complete such a task.” She lifted one delicate hand and gestured toward a door I hadn’t noticed.

It swung open, and a tall man stepped through it. His skin was a rich caramel colour, and his green eyes sparkled brightly, set off by bronze hair that was cut fashionably short. He had cheekbones that would make any GQ model proud. But something wasn’t quite right about him, and I didn’t realise what it was until he came level with the marble throne and turned to reveal the charred, raw burns that had completely destroyed one side of his face. He wore an open red shirt that exposed his broad, muscular chest, and beneath the expensive fabric I could see that the burns continued down the right side of his body.

“Azrael, is this the fae you met today?” the queen asked, reaching toward him with a pale hand. Her nails raked down the side of his ruined face, but his green eyes never left mine.

“This little one murdered my children,” he said, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. I would have known his voice anywhere.

I’d brought the roof of the abandoned mall down on his head, so how the hell had he survived with nothing more than a few burns? He’d be completely healed after his next meal, and yet, according to him, the newborns had perished.

“How did you survive?” I asked, raising my chin in defiance.

“My queen is correct—it takes more than just exposure to sunlight to kill a master.”

“But your newborns are dead?”

“Very,” he said, and I could have sworn I heard remorse in his voice. Was it possible that vamps cared for their newborns? I’d always been led to believe that vamps were heartless, that the humans and fae were nothing more than cattle to them. The latter was definitely true, so I’d always assumed the former was too.

“You would have killed both me and the wolf,” I said, searching Azrael’s face for any sort of denial.

“You were trespassing.”

“The Court sent me to warn you that to harm the fae was to declare war.” I dragged my gaze away from his face and back to the queen, who was watching with abject fascination.

“Azrael was correct, the truce was voided in Ireland, a fact that I and others from the Council do not agree with. But our disagreement doesn’t change the truth. Whoever sent you to Azrael did so without telling you the truth.” The queen watched me from beneath her lashes.

“And what about the fae he murdered?” I asked, flexing my grip on the machete. The conversation had definitely taken a turn for the worse, and I couldn’t help but feel as though I was being manoeuvred into a corner.

“There was only one fae, and she was brought to the site as punishment for a crime,” Azrael said, moving slowly around the room so that I was forced to split my attention between him and the queen, not to mention her human servants.

“We do not punish our kind by threatening them with vampires,” I said.

“And I have no use for lies,” he shot back. “You would taste them in the air.” He raised his hands to the side in a gesture of open sincerity.

He was right. If he lied, I would taste its bitterness on the air. But I didn’t, leaving me with only one conclusion.

“Who brought her?” I asked.

“The Beast Mother,” he said, and my world ground to a halt.

“This surprises you?” The queen leaned forward on her throne, her blonde hair trailing forward to expose her small, pert breasts and the bloody bite marks that surrounded the areolas.

“Do you mean the Mother of the Hunt?” I asked, my throat suddenly dry.

“You call her such a pretty name, but we call her by the truth of what she is. She is the Beast Mother, the bringer of shifters, the creator of the creatures that rampage in the dark of night.”

I didn’t answer. I’d known she was the mother of the creatures of the Wild Hunt, but I hadn’t known she was also mother to the shifters… Of course, I couldn’t guarantee the vampire was correct about that. Fae history was long and varied, and many of the stories of my kind had been lost to the ages.

“And the fae she brought to you?”

“A pretty little thing. Delicate, but with teeth to rival even mine.” Azrael glanced down at the burns decorating the backs of his hands.

“What did the Mother of the Hunt do with her?” I asked.

“Why, she let her go,” he said, and though he lifted his gaze to mine, I could see something lurking in the depths of his eyes.

“Do not toy with me, blood sucker,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Tread carefully, little harbinger,” the human servant warned.

Azrael waved his words away and approached me slowly. “The one you call Mother of the Hunt bit down on her, tearing into her shoulder and neck the way a wild animal might. The girl screamed, her agony painful even to one such as I, and then the Beast let her go.” He circled me slowly, each step bringing him closer.

“And the scent of her blood on the evening air as she ran for all that she was worth was delicious, but nymphs aren’t really made for land…”

“Let me guess, you took the bait,” I said, struggling to keep the emotion from my voice.

“Bait? Dear one, she was a gift.”

“So you killed her?”

“She tasted of sunshine and happiness,” he said, his voice taking on a dreamy tone as he stared into the distance. “I gave her a death any of your kind would be proud to have. Her blood fed the newborns, but she felt no pain, I promise you that.” His gaze suddenly snapped back to my face, his green eyes filled with hunger, the monster within him lurking just beneath the surface.

“Do you admit to entering the home of Azrael, master vampire, and slaughtering thirty-eight of his newborns and almost costing him his own life?” the queen asked, her sudden question catching me off guard.

Surprised, I swung around to face her. “What?”

I realised the mistake as soon as I’d made it. Giving my back to Azrael was a rookie mistake, and his iron grip filled me with fear. He jerked my arm holding the machete backwards and forced it up my back, twisting the joint hard enough that I was forced to choose to either give up the blade or lose it.

“Answer the question, little one,” he whispered against my ear.

“I went searching for the fae he had slaughtered and, in doing so, was forced to defend myself against him and his brood,” I said.

“Close enough,” the queen said.

“The Court will not stand for this,” I quipped back. Azrael twisted my arm further, causing me to bite down on my lower lip.

The queen nodded and smiled at me. “We shall see. Take her to the holding cells.”

I glanced down at the floor, doing my best to inch my booted foot toward the machete Azrael had forced me to drop. But, as though he could sense what I was doing, he twisted my arm at such an impossible angle that the joint strained to stay connected. I bent forward at the waist to avoid risking more damage at his hands.

He moved to secure my other hand, and, seizing the opportunity, I twisted in his grip. The pain of my shoulder popping free of the joint was intense enough to cause my breath to catch in the back of my throat, but I had suffered far worse injuries in the past. Something as simple as a dislocated shoulder wasn’t going to stop me now, especially considering what would happen to me if they managed to get me into one of their holding cells.

Twisting toward him, I slammed my body into his torso, driving us both backwards. The moment I felt his grip lessen on my arm, I raised my head, jerking my injured arm free and driving my elbow up into his snarling face. The satisfying crunch of his nose crumbling beneath the blow almost made up for the pain in my arm. Without another thought, I dived across the floor toward my machete, my one good hand closing around its hilt as the air nearby shifted suddenly.

Turning to face Azrael, I was surprised to find him still on the ground, his hand cupping his face as blood dripped from between his fingers. I glanced back in the direction of the throne, but it was empty.

It took me just a second to locate the human servant, whose semi-automatic weapon was trained on the centre of my body. But that second was all it took for the queen to get a jump on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, and I began to turn, machete raised. Her fingers dug into what little flesh I had near my neck and shoulder, and I suddenly found myself airborne.

The white marble wall came to meet me far faster than expected, and I had only enough time to toss the machete away before I connected with it. My neck snapped backwards and my head slammed into the marble, causing my vision to run in streamers of light that momentarily disoriented me.

When I came to, the light in the room was more intense than I remembered, and I felt a distinct burning around my wrists, ankles, and mouth. I blinked to clear my vision as the burning intensified and struggled against the shackles. The feeling of them against my skin brought back all sorts of memories I had thought were long buried despite occasionally resurfacing in my dreams.

I lifted my shackled hands to my face, and pain bit into my fingers as they came into contact with the iron gag. The iron bit sitting against my tongue burned despite the leather cover the vamps had placed over it. Tears stung my eyes as I stared up at the queen’s face.

“I won’t be so lenient the next time,” she said, and, with one flick of her wrist, I felt two pairs of strong hands wrap around my legs and shoulders. They hoisted me into the air, carrying me between them as I bucked and heaved against their hold. But the iron did its job; I could feel it leeching into my body as it rubbed my ankles and wrists raw.

Fighting against them was utterly pointless, but I persisted even as they carried me into the depths of the vampires’ lair and dumped me onto the cold stone floor of my cell in what seemed like an underground cavern. The sound of their booted feet moving away brought a wave of nausea crashing over me, and the urge to sink in to the self-pity swelling inside my chest was almost overwhelming. But I couldn’t. Every moment here was a moment wasted, a moment I needed so I could help Byron stop the sickness from sweeping through the wolves. But as the darkness and impenetrable silence settled in around me, doubt started creeping in.

If I couldn’t help myself, then what good was I to Byron?

I needed a miracle, but being a harbinger had taught me that miracles never came in the form you wanted. And that, more than anything, was enough to make me fight against the bonds that held me all the more vigorously.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Darkness had fallen by the time the vampires returned to fetch me from the cell. I had managed to work the manacles from my ankles free, so when they entered the cell I pushed up onto my feet and met them head-on.

Two human servants grabbed me beneath my elbows, practically lifting me from my feet as they carted me toward the door. They led me along the winding stone staircase that led to the upper floors of the queen’s household. I contemplated fighting them—the iron had definitely weakened me, but not so much that I couldn’t school a couple of enhanced humans in the art of pain.

But the sight of Azrael standing in the hall was enough to make me think twice. He would pay for the pain he’d caused me—and the fae he’d murdered—but I could see the promise of violence reflected in his eyes, and I knew he longed for my death.

When the humans escorted me past him, his eyes raked over me and a small smile played around his lips as he noted my broken ankle manacles. Staring through him, I slowed my heart rate, my own little kick to the teeth for a vamp who wished for me to fear him. It was a small, petty thing, but it had the desired effect. His smirk slid away, replaced by a snarl.

The humans carried me out through a small door and down a long hall that was instantly recognisable as the same one the queen’s human servant brought me through when I first arrived. I glanced over my shoulder, trying to figure out where we’d come from, but Azrael’s broad shoulders blocked my view. We definitely hadn’t passed through the same door as before, that much I was certain of. The place was like a maze, leading me to believe that I wouldn’t know how to escape even if the opportunity presented itself. The iron door at the end of the hall stood open, golden light spilling over the black marble floors leading up to it.

The decor reminded me a little of the inside of a tomb, cold and impersonal, but since those two traits suited the vamps perfectly, it made sense their taste in interior design would follow suit.

I picked up my pace as we approached the iron door, as did the human servants. We made it to the door several paces ahead of Azrael.

“Anyone would think you were eager to meet your maker,” he said, moving alongside me as I was directed to the centre of the room.

Since the gag prevented me from answering, I ignored him as best I could. He drew closer to me, and I curled my fingers into my palms, balling my hands into fists. I couldn’t shake the memory of his fangs in my throat, the longing he had drawn from the core of my being. I had desired death at his hands, and I hated myself for it. The fact that it was one of the most powerful tools in the vamps’ arsenal didn’t make me feel any better, because I was supposed to be above those kinds of parlour tricks.

Harbingers didn’t desire death.

I had very nearly allowed him to drain me, which filled me with revulsion. Others were allowed to fail in the face of such power, but not me. And it wasn’t just because I had an ego the size of a small country, either. Who I was—the blood that ran in my veins, the power granted to me by the Between—should have protected me from such things.

There was no pleasure in the indignity of the end. Banshees were simply the messengers. But for those few moments, I had forgotten who I was, and I couldn’t let that happen again.

“Don’t be in too much of a hurry,” Azrael said, moving behind me as he slid his hand up the side of my face and tangled his fingers in my hair. He jerked my head forcibly to the side, extending my neck so that he punctuated each spoken word with a butterfly kiss. “I know I’m not… You and I will do things together you never even dreamed possible.” His lips pressed against the pulse thudding just beneath my ear.

I stared straight ahead. It was a little pathetic, really. Did he honestly think he could frighten me like this? I didn’t fear death. The world held worse things, and I had encountered a few of them, even loved one of them…which definitely wasn’t my finest moment.

“Azrael!” The queen’s voice cut through the air with laser-like precision. He stiffened, as though someone had pressed something sharp to his delicate parts. “Let her go,” she said, her voice soft and gentle, the words moving against my skin like the brush of a cat’s velvet fur.

He released me, pushing me away so I was forced to either take a stumbling step forward or drop to my knees.

“Mistress, I was not hurting her but merely explaining what would happen next,” Azrael said.

Without a word, the queen breezed past him. Her long blonde hair was no longer flowing freely around her like a veil; now, it was pinned high on her head, with long strands loosely braided and twisted around so that her hair looked like it was filled with golden roses. It was clearly a painstaking process. Who the hell had that much time on their hands?

She wore a rich forest-green dress, the neckline dipping between her breasts and exposing a strip of flawless alabaster skin. A thin, twisted black braid of leather held tightly in place beneath her breasts allowed the fabric to fall freely to the floor and gather around her feet. Each time she took a step, the dress swung open on the sides to reveal a strip of pale leg all the way up to her hipbones. On anyone else, the outfit would have looked like a badly arranged bed sheet, but she made it look sensual and sophisticated, two things I had never been in my very long life.

She practically floated up onto the marble throne stationed at the head of the room, artfully arranging her dress around her body to simultaneously reveal as much flesh as possible while still keeping all the important bits under wraps. Then she looked at me and said, “You, Darcey Thorne, are guilty of breaching the fragile treaty between both fae and vampire here in Falcon City.” When I let out a mumbled protest, the iron bit in my mouth burned my tongue and caused tears to gather in my eyes. The vampires had been the ones to tell me the bloody truce had been voided in Ireland! Hell, Azrael had used that as an excuse to attack me first, not that any of that mattered here.

“The punishment agreed upon by both Faerie Court and Vampire Council is that the offending parties, or, in your case, party, should be put to death by the ones they have wronged.”

Dread curled in the pit of my stomach. I could practically feel Azrael salivating at the thought of sinking his fangs into me once more.

“I have spoken to your Court, and they agree with this judgment,” she said.

Her words slammed into me. They were a death sentence. The Mother of the Hunt had betrayed me—I’d spent enough hours in the darkened cell mulling over the matter to decide there could be no alternative. This was no mistake, and I refused to believe that someone so far up the Faerie Court food chain would have bad information. And if I believed Azrael’s story, then this was more than just a regular set-up. She had also murdered another fae in order to ensure I, too, would die.

“I would usually ask what you think of this, and whether or not you have anything to say in your defence, but we both know what you will do if I remove the gag,” the queen added. “You have wronged Azrael’s family, and, as such, he deserves recompense—”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he said, cutting her off.

“I haven’t finished.” She glared down at the master vampire. “However,” she said, addressing me once more, “I feel that your death will not serve me or the vampire community.”

Azrael hissed as though someone had spilled hot coffee on him, and I turned to see his eyes snapping with rage as he glared up at his queen.

“You cannot do this! You cannot cheat me out of her life. It is owed!”

“You are owed what I give you,” the queen snapped back, leaning forward on her throne. I could feel the pull of her power in her gaze, and I fought the urge to stare into her radiant face.

“You have taken thirty-eight lives,” she said, and part of me wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of her statement. “You will repay the vampires with the lives of thirty-eight humans to join the ranks of the newborns.”

I jerked my head up and met her gaze. There was no pull, no compulsion in her eyes, but the smile that played on her lips turned my stomach.

I wanted to shout at her, to scream, to rail against her, but the bit in my mouth prevented it.

“I hate the fae,” she said, “and usually the thought of feasting upon one such as yourself would fill me with joy. But if there is something I hate more than your kind, it is when your kind attempts to use the vampires as though we are simply ignorant pawns in the great game of life. If the Mother of Beasts believes she can use us to do her dirty work, then she is sorely mistaken.”

I stared up at the queen, trying to convey my utter contempt for her.

“Remove the gag,” she said, gesturing to the human servants. “If you try to scream, I will rip your lungs out through your spine,” she added to me, and I knew she meant it. Part of me wondered just how many she had killed with such a move.

The servants moved quickly, sliding the key into the padlock holding the gag in place. A groan escaped me as they slipped it free, but the iron bit stuck in my mouth, forcing them to rip it out. My face felt raw, and I experimented with opening and closing my mouth a few times before I gave the queen my attention once more.

“I—” I started to say, but my voice didn’t sound like my own, and the taste of old and new blood coated the inside of my injured mouth. “I will…never…” The odd movement of my lips and tongue as I struggled to form the words caused them to come out in little gasps.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You will never let me do such a thing?” I nodded.

“This is not your choice to make,” she said. “You owe me the lives of thirty-eight. But if you think I’m asking you to bring me thirty-eight humans, then you have nothing to fear.”

“Then what…” I sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth before trying to continue. “…do…you want?”

“I would not entrust such an important task of choosing just who gets to join the vampire ranks to someone like you,” she said. “Instead, what I want from you is your blood.”

I stared at her for a moment and then shook my head as I scrubbed the back of one shackled hand across my face. “I don’t understand…”

“In order to complete the transformation from human to vampire, newborns must feed. A master selects only the best candidate for such a task—the stronger the first blood-meal, the more likely a newborn will survive the transformation. Instead of using a human blood-meal, I will use your blood as the catalyst to turn thirty-eight humans, thus repaying the debt.”

“No,” I croaked out, “there has to be something else I can do… I’ll run errands, I’ll track down wayward vamps, but I’m not going to help you murder thirty-eight humans.”

“It’s not murder,” she said with a glorious smile. “It is rebirth.”

“Whatever you want to call it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s murder.”

She shrugged. “You will do this, either willingly and free to come and go as you please, or I will have them put the gag back on and throw you into the cells until such time as I have use for you.”

I stared at her. She was actually giving me a chance to walk away. And if I agreed, I would be free to go and help Byron… Hell, I’d be free to go and kick Auriella’s ass, and maybe, just maybe, clear my name with the Faerie Court. If they revoked the judgment, the vamps would no longer have any hold over me…

“If I agree to this,” I said, “I have your word that I am free to leave here tonight?”

She nodded.” Only if I have your word that you will willingly give up your blood as a meal for the newborns.”

“I will honour the judgment.”

The queen nodded, and a wide smile stretched her cherry-red lips. “Then let us seal it with blood,” she said, raising a hand.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention as the iron door swung open. I heard the woman before I saw her; she was begging and pleading with the female vamp dragging her into the room.

My stomach churned, and I dug my nails into the palms of my hands as I closed my eyes. Death pressed a cold, clammy hand against the back of my neck, urging me to open my eyes once more and stare at the woman being dragged across the marble floor toward Azrael.

“Wait!” I said, raising my hands in an attempt to halt the female vamp’s progress.

“You agreed,” the queen said. “This will happen whether you are willing or not.”

“She won’t survive,” I pleaded, staring into the woman’s brown eyes. I could see her death playing out before me as though it were happening in real time. Azrael’s teeth sinking into her throat, her voice wet as she gurgled and fought against his unrelenting hold, until finally, at the moment when her life hung in the balance, he fed her his blood. I watched as the woman’s face grew slack, her brown eyes greying over as death took her.

“What do you mean, she won’t survive?” the queen asked.

“I mean, she won’t survive the transformation,” I said. “Death will take her, and nothing will bring her back…not even my blood.”

“You cannot know this,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously. “You cannot know the fate of every human who walks upon the earth.”

“I don’t, but I recognize those marked for death. This woman will die if you attempt to turn her.” I glanced back at the woman, but I couldn’t shake Death’s grip on the back of my neck, as though he wanted to force me to watch the woman’s pain and torment unfold over and over again.

I didn’t see the queen give the order, but I saw Azrael’s eyes light up with delight as he reached for the woman who was now crumpled on the floor. She screamed, a high-pitched, sobbing sound that tore at my soul, as he brushed her hair away from her face and tilted her chin so that she was forced to look up at him. Even from where I stood, I could see her limbs trembling as she jammed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to keep the vampire from capturing her with his gaze.

“Don’t fight it, Riya,” he said, stroking his fingers over her caramel skin.

Tearing away from the human servants still holding me, I crossed the floor toward Azrael and the woman he was now cradling in his arms.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me free of the floor, but I slammed my head backwards, catching my attacker square in the face and causing him to release me. I continued toward the woman, who was now staring blissfully into Azrael’s face.

His eyes were no longer on her; instead, he captured my gaze as two sets of hands grabbed my arms and pulled me away from my target.

“Don’t do this…she won’t survive…please,” I begged, but I knew from the look on Azrael’s face that my pleading was pointless. So I fought against the men holding me, and when more hands joined them, I fought them too.

Something hard and unrelenting struck my shoulder, driving me to the floor as pain ripped through my body. I had just enough time to lift my arm to protect my face from the blow of the iron bar as one of the younger vamps who had entered the hall brought it crashing down on top of me.

I screamed in rage and pain as they beat me until a large vamp pinned me on my knees.

“Watch, Darcey, let us see if you are correct,” the queen said, her voice flowing over me like sweet honey, washing over my pain and numbing it to the point of making it bearable. Without thinking, I glanced over at Azrael.

As though he’d been waiting for me, he stared into my eyes and snapped his fangs into place as he sank them into the woman’s neck. She moaned deliriously as she clutched at the front of his shirt, tilting her head to give him better access.

I watched as her attempts to draw him closer became weaker. Her limbs flopped around, but still her face was filled with bliss.

“Perhaps you were wrong?” the queen asked, but I couldn’t answer her, my dry tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

And then it changed. The woman’s body stiffened and her eyes widened as the bliss she’d been feeling just moments ago fled from her face. My heart sank as her eyes filled with terror and pain.

She slapped at Azrael, fighting against his hold as her bare feet slipped against the marble floor. The wet sounds of her protestations echoed in my ears as both my earlier vision and the present reality melded together into one.

“Give her your blood, Azrael,” the queen said, the edge in her voice confirming that whatever was happening wasn’t planned.

He ripped away, the blood smeared across his mouth and trickling down his chin giving him a ghoulish appearance. Riya heaved and gasped in his grip, her lips taking on an unhealthy blue tinge as her fingers started to spasm, grasping and releasing at her pink dress.

His eyes met mine once more, and I could see the monster lurking just below the surface. It hungered for me, for what I could give it, but I didn’t care. All I could see, all I could feel, was the opening emptiness that spread inside me, a chasm that ripped me wide open as Death crept closer to the woman in Azrael’s arms.

The vampire bit down on his own wrist, his blood darker and thicker than Riya’s. It trickled down from the wound and into her mouth, coating her lips and turning them from blue to black as the viscous liquid splashed onto her tongue and teeth.

She began spluttering and choking as the life she’d so desperately clung to fled her body. Azrael crushed his wrist against her mouth, but her head merely lolled uselessly to the side, her eyes unfocused and unseeing.

The pain I’d been holding inside flooded up my throat and spilled from my lips before I could stop it. Death had released me and taken her instead.

My keening wail swelled within the room, and I was only vaguely aware of Azrael and the others around me cowering, their hands clamped over their ears in an attempt to block out the mourning cry.

Sucking in another deep breath, I screamed again, letting it wash through the room as I poured out all of my anger and anguish over such a pointless waste of life.

The cry ended as abruptly as it had started, and I slumped over onto the ground, my cheeks wet with tears. The part of me that was still a harbinger, a true banshee, felt satisfied, but another part of me still held on to my anger against the vampires.

Drawing myself onto my knees, I climbed slowly and painfully to my feet, then turned to face the queen still sitting on the throne. The only signs that my wail had affected her were the small trickle of blood creeping down her cheek from her right ear and the slight rounding of her shoulders, as though she had tried to hunch her body in on itself in a poor attempt at protecting herself from my power.

“A harbinger is never wrong,” I said, meeting her gaze as I lifted my chin in defiance.

“Can you always tell which ones will live and which will die?” she asked.

“When the choice has already been made, then yes.”

She nodded curtly and gave me a long look. “Then I would ask something else of you.”

“There is nothing you can ask of me that I would agree to now,” I said.

“Are you sure?” She leaned forward. “Even if it meant saving the lives of some of the humans who pass through these halls?”

“I told you that woman would not survive, but you did not believe me. What would make this any different?”

“Call it a test, if you like, but I needed to know that you spoke the truth,” she said blandly, as though we were discussing the weather. “Do this, and I will not make a meal of you.”

“And the ones I say won’t survive the transformation?” I asked.

“We shall let them decide their own fate,” she said. “Not all who join us need to die. A dead human is much harder to deal with than a willing blood servant.”

It was probably the fairest deal I was going to get from her. If I agreed to it, then I could leave and finally begin tracking down Auriella.

“Fine,” I agreed, and the queen smiled.

“I have a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Yeah, I thought, if you were interested in the kind of friendship where one of you planned on standing over the other’s dead body sooner rather than later. I didn’t answer her, instead opting to keep my smart-arse answer to myself. My sharp tongue had already gotten me into plenty of trouble; the less I added to that now, the better.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The sun was beginning to rise by the time I made it back to the apartment. Every bone in my body ached, and the knowledge that I had lost an entire day and night to the vampires had panic coursing in my veins. Would Byron still be Byron? Falling against the doorjamb, I struggled to get my key into the lock, but before I could shove it home the door swung inwards and I was met with Samira’s panicked face.

“Where have you been? Why didn’t you come home yesterday evening? I thought you were dead!” She rushed forward to wrap her arms around me.

I winced as her grip tightened around the bruises on top of bruises I was sporting thanks to the vampires’ hospitality.

“I had some business to sort out,” I said, moving past her into the apartment.

“Byron has been out of his mind,” Samira said, following me. “Darcey.” She touched my arm, halting my progress. “He’s not doing so great.”

I hurried down the hall and into the empty living room. The rumpled blankets on the couch indicated that someone had been sleeping there, but Byron was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” I asked as Samira followed me into the room.

“He went looking for you. He said he was going to check in on the sick house and stay there if he couldn’t find you… He was worried about losing control…” she whispered, and I could hear her unspoken words. He was afraid he would hurt her, kill her even, and if the other night had been any indication then he was probably right.

“Tonight is the first night of the Huntress Moon,” I said softly.

“I’ve been doing some research,” she said, moving past me to a pile of books strewn about on the floor and coffee table. “Well, we both were. It was the only way to keep my mind occupied, to keep myself from imagining all the things that might have happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, huffing out a deep breath and pushing a pained hand back through my hair. “Trust me when I say it wasn’t intentional, and if I could have called you I would have.”

Samira studied my face, her eyes widening a little as she took in the bruises that were slowly beginning to heal. I could only imagine how bad I looked. Any wounds caused by iron weapons were slow to heal.

“The Noree called around and said these books might be helpful in figuring out the cause of the curse,” she said, finally tearing her gaze away from my face. “She said that the first night of the moon wouldn’t have as strong a hold over the alphas. They might stand a chance of holding the change at bay, and so might the stronger pack wolves. But those who aren’t strong enough will change unless they have an alpha powerful enough to keep it at bay.”

“But isn’t that what Byron and his brother have already been doing?” I asked.

“They’ve been lending strength to those who are already sick to keep their change in check.”

“What did the Noree say about that?”

“Her recommendation was to put them down and concentrate on the pack as a whole,” Samira said. “Help the many rather than the few.”

I shook my head. Byron had a ruthless streak within him, but I couldn’t see him agreeing to something like that, no matter how much he might want to protect the pack as a whole. After the way he’d behaved with the pixie I’d allowed Mazik to interrogate, Byron had proven he definitely wasn’t mercenary enough to kill without just cause.

“I don’t suppose Byron took the news too well,” I said, dropping onto the couch and leaning back into the cushions. I just wanted to curl up in bed and nurse my wounds until they were healed, but the old adage ‘no rest for the wicked’ held a lot of truth.

“He left shortly afterwards to go looking for you,” Samira said. “And he nearly took the head clean off Mazik’s shoulders too.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, Mazik wanted to know why Byron had allowed you to go off on your own to fix his problems for him…”

I let out a low whistle. That wasn’t true, but I could totally imagine Mazik spinning the situation that way to get a rise from the wolf.

“I know Mazik is capable of taking care of himself,” Samira said, “but I’ve never seen a demon and a wolf go head-to-head before…”

“Honestly, neither have I, so I’m not sure which one of them would have come out on top.” I rubbed my hands over my tired eyes.

“It was pretty intense, and in the end I had to ask Mazik to leave,” she said.

With a sigh, I pushed up onto my feet and started back toward the front door.

“Now where are you going?” She put her hands on her hips.

“To hunt Byron down and make sure he hasn’t gone and done something stupid.”

“Like what?”

With a shrug, I tugged open the door and came face-to-face with Mazik. “Heck if I know. What’s up, Mazik?” I caught myself before my surprise caused me to take a step back.

“I heard you come back.” He searched my face with his inscrutable gaze, taking in every cut and bruise. “What happened?”

“Had a little business to sort out with the vamps,” I told him honestly. Covering up the truth seemed like a complete waste of time, and it wasn’t as though Mazik would spread my business around. Demon or not, he was generally pretty trustworthy, plus there was the slight issue of me knowing where he lived. Not to mention that whenever trouble followed me home, which was more often than I was comfortable with, I shared the spoils of war with him.

“I hope they look worse,” he said.

“Nope, basically not a scratch.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He shook his head and glanced over my shoulder toward Samira. “Need me to keep an eye on the little witch?”

“I can hear you,” Samira shouted. She was propped on the edge of the couch, her head buried in one of Noree’s books.

“What’s in it for you?” I asked.

“Can’t I just be neighbourly?”

I glared at him, and he sighed. “Fine, my television is broken, and I was hoping I could score some time with yours.”

“You okay with this?” I said to Samira, who was now only pretending to read the book her nose was buried in.

“I suppose so,” she said. “And, anyway, he gets grumpy when he misses… what did you call the judge woman?” She darted a glance in Mazik’s direction.

“Judge Judy,” he said. “And I don’t get grumpy, I just don’t like to fall behind. I’ve got my vices, just like the rest of you.”

“Vices?” I said, fighting to keep my voice neutral. “You’re a demon, so I don’t think you can call having a thing for a TV judge a vice.”

He snorted and pushed past me into the apartment. “You’ve got no idea the level of resentment that show creates. That stuff is more addictive than crack.”

I watched as he flopped down onto the couch and scooped up the remote control. Havoc climbed onto his chest and pawed at his face until he scratched beneath her tiny ginger chin.

Watching Samira drop onto the couch next to him, book in hand, I contemplated warning them not to do anything I wouldn’t do. But then Mazik wouldn’t be able to watch his favourite show, and, well, he was a demon…and she was a witch. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

“I’ll be back as fast as I can,” I said, but they ignored me. The strains of the title theme to one of TV’s most famous judges filled the apartment as I let the door swing shut behind me.

As I stood in the hall, I suddenly realised I would have given anything to turn around, go back inside, and join them. But the thought of letting Byron down kept me moving. I had to help him. It hit me then that, despite only twenty-four hours passing since I’d last seen him, I actually missed him. I missed his scent, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms around me, the sound of his laugh.

“Ah, shit,” I muttered to myself as I headed for the stairs. I already had enough people in my life to worry about. The last thing I needed was to add another name to that list, especially if my fears about Mannan were true.

Of course, the problem wasn’t just that I cared for Byron… it was the way I cared for him, the depth of my feelings, and the speed at which they had occurred. If I wasn’t careful, I was definitely in danger of losing my head. And that wasn’t something I could allow… no matter what happened.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Finding the neighbourhood Byron had taken me to was harder than I anticipated. In the end, I stumbled into it by accident rather than design. I killed the motorbike’s engine outside the sick house and headed around the back.

By now, the wood of the door was buckled and cracked, as though someone or something had burst through it with great force. The screen was shredded, the wire hanging in streamers from what remained of the frame.

I pulled out my silver blade and gripped it lightly, flexing my fingers around the hilt in an attempt to keep the tension in my arms to a minimum. Taking the steps up to the ruined door two at a time, I tugged open the screen and stepped through what remained of the door rather than risk trying to open it. I couldn’t risk the whole thing collapsing and alerting anyone or anything of my location.

The house was silent, as it had been during my last visit, thanks to the spell a powerful witch had cast over the property so that the wolves within wouldn’t be heard by any passing humans who would potentially alert the Elite.

Making my way through the dark rooms, I used my memory and my senses to find the basement stairs. The moment I tugged open the door, light flooded into the small kitchen area. I started down the steps, careful to keep my footsteps as light as possible.

I didn’t hear Byron’s voice until I was halfway down. The rich tone slid along my skin, warming me from the outside. I couldn’t make out the words, and so I kept descending, but a second, higher-pitched voice told me he wasn’t alone.

I stared at the wolves, huddled and shivering, fighting to control the beast within. Their numbers had swelled, but some I’d seen during my first visit were no longer there. Where had they gone?

The wolves shifted restlessly as I made my way past them, my booted feet silent on the compacted dirt floor. I moved through the basement, following the sounds of the voices as they grew louder.

Rounding the corner, I spotted Byron sitting on the edge of a small camp bed. He had his back to me, and the pale grey T-shirt he wore was stuck to his skin with sweat. Clearly, the fever was getting worse.

He was crouched over the bed, and I quickly realised the other voice, a girl’s, was coming from whoever lay in the bed. When he moved, I caught sight of her. Her dark hair cascaded down her small, heart-shaped face as she smiled up at him.

He whispered something, and she giggled gleefully, her dark eyes dancing as she stared up at him adoringly. I’d never been much for judging children’s ages, but to my inexperienced eyes she looked to be around seven, maybe eight.

Without meaning to, I took a step backwards, and my boot scuffed the edge of the wall. Byron’s shoulders instantly stiffened, and the little girl stared at me, her eyes widening in both fear and wonder.

As I stared into her eyes, my heart sank. There was something terribly familiar about her, and as soon as my eyes met hers I knew why. I’d felt the thread of her life in the Between. She was the child I’d felt, the one I’d known was destined to die.

Byron turned to face me, and the rage on his face quickly melted away. His eyes widened, and the guilt that swirled in their brown depths turned my stomach.

“Daddy, who is she?” the little girl asked, tapping his arm.

Daddy.

One simple word, and the world tilted on its axis.

I spun away from them and ran, my feet practically tripping over each other as I tried to cover as much ground as possible in an attempt to get away. I heard him calling me, his voice curling around my name, begging me to come back. And still I ran.

The moment I made it out into the night air, the sound of him calling my name faded away to silence.

He had a child. He had a child, and he hadn’t thought to tell me?

Where was her mother? Was he hiding her too?

The thoughts swirled in my mind faster and faster until I felt like my head might explode.

I headed for the street, but the distinctive smell of gasoline and smoke filled my nose, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand to attention.

There were no such things as coincidences. She was the girl I’d felt in the Between. I’d felt her death drawing nearer with every passing moment, but it hadn’t been completely decided upon.

Until now.

“No!” I screamed, turning back toward the house as the first of the orange flames exploded through the downstairs windows. The force of the blast knocked me off my feet, sending me sprawling back onto the sun-scorched grass. Climbing to my feet, I darted toward the back of the house once more.

The moment I entered, I could hear the muffled screams of those trapped in the basement. But the smoke was so thick that each breath I took made me feel like I was suffocating.

The house was no longer bathed in thick, black darkness; now, the orange glow of the roaring fire that was rapidly spreading gave everything an almost hellish appearance. I ran for the basement, covering my mouth with my arm, but a wall of heat washed over me as soon as I tugged open the door. The fire seemed to be everywhere, and if I couldn’t find a way around it, I would have to go through it.

The wooden steps creaked ominously as I descended the stairs, but I couldn’t tell where the wall of heat was coming from until I reached the middle of the staircase. The base of the stairs was completely engulfed in flames, and just beyond it I could see inside the first few cages holding the chained wolves, who were being swallowed in the flames.

The fire crept closer to me, and a scream cut through the air. Pushing aside my fear, I jumped, diving over the worst of the flames that seemed to leap up to greet me. Despite being a fae, and having all the advantages that came with it, the jump was still not enough to completely clear the flames, but I still managed to wrap my arms around one of the beams stretching across the ceiling.

Raising my legs free of the fire that sought to consume me, I shuffled upside down along the beam until the flames no longer danced beneath me. Dropping to the ground, I darted toward the nearest partially-turned wolf, but she stared at me with eyes that were too wide. When I tried to grab the chain attaching her to the wall, she lunged toward me, her half-shifted clawed hands shearing through the front of my T-shirt as I hopped back out of reach.

“I’m trying to help you,” I said, raising my voice above the sound of the crackling fire that was edging ever closer.

The ceiling creaked, and sparks danced between the floorboards. The whole house was going to cave in on top of us—whoever had set the fire had known exactly what they were doing.

“Darcey!” Byron’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I turned to see him carrying the little girl in his arms. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and her face was buried against him.

“They won’t let me help them,” I said, gesturing to the men and women who snarled and fought against the chains.

The ceiling creaked again, and another flurry of sparks danced down the walls.

“Is there a way out?” he said, eyeing where the stairs had been just moments ago.

“I was hoping you might know,” I said. “You have to help me release them!” I gestured to the wolves once more, but Byron shook his head.

“Can you get her out of here?” he said, cradling his daughter. “I’ll get them free.”

I stared at the little girl and nodded. “Byron, I can’t promise anything, but I will do my best.”

He started to hand the little girl to me, but she clung to her father. I could feel tremors running through her body, and her skin was cold and clammy despite the flames that raged nearby.

“I don’t want to!” she cried, and the pack members cried out in response, rattling their chains as they fought harder to break free.

“Lucy, do everything Darcey says. She’ll keep you safe, I promise.” As Byron hugged his daughter, the knot growing in my stomach tightened.

How could he promise something like that, especially when we had no idea if there was a way out of the basement? The girl nodded and allowed me to cradle her against my body. Now that she was in my arms, I could feel the heat radiating out from every pore in her tiny body.

Without waiting for Byron to say anything else, I started scanning the basement for something, anything that would help us get the hell out of there.

Basements like this usually had outside entrances, a throwback to when they had been used as root cellars. But I wasn’t familiar enough with this house to know if it had one. Part of me believed the wolves wouldn’t have chained up the infected members of their pack in a place where they could so easily escape.

Scanning along the back wall, I spotted a window near the roof. The ceiling above our heads that made up the first floor was beginning to sag, and the amount of sparks falling from the splintered lengths of wooden beams warned me that it was going to cave in sooner rather than later. As though on cue, the house groaned and that section of the ceiling caved in, the falling debris sending sparks and flames scattering in all directions.

“Lucy, is there another window in here?” I asked, not sure if the little girl would answer.

“There’s one above my bed, but Daddy covered it because the light hurt my eyes,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Goddess,” I said, more to myself than to Lucy.

I darted in the direction of her bed and propped her against it. Glancing around, my eyes fell on a fold-out chair that I wasted no time in grabbing. Pushing it open below where I assumed the window was located, I climbed onto it and gripped the edges of the timber that had been nailed onto the wall. The first piece gave way with the screeching sound of nails in cement coming loose, and I flung it aside before starting on the next bit.

Lucy coughed, her brown eyes huge and red-rimmed, and I could only imagine what the smoke was doing to her small lungs. After ripping the next board free, I stared at the splintered and dirty window that was only wide enough for Lucy to slide through.

I shoved it open and gulped down the cool, clean air that flooded through.

“Lucy, take my hand,” I said, reaching down to the little girl, but she was too busy staring around for her father to pay me any attention.

“I want my daddy,” she said as a large, fat tear rolled down her cheek.

“You need to get out of here. He’ll meet you outside.” It wasn’t a lie, but it certainly wasn’t the truth either. I had no idea if Byron would make it out of the basement, and when I tried using my power to sense those who were nearing the end, I was only able to focus on Lucy, her life hanging in the balance.

She hiccupped and rubbed her eyes before climbing to her feet and reaching one small hand toward me. Gripping her tightly, I swung her up into my arms. The chair I was balancing on wobbled precariously but continued to hold our combined weight.

I pushed her up toward the window and helped her wriggle out through the tiny gap to freedom. She let out a startled yelp, and her bare legs and feet were suddenly yanked out through the space, leaving me grasping at nothing but empty air.

“What the hell?” I pushed up onto my tiptoes in an attempt to see out the window.

“I’ve got her,” a female said, and when her face appeared in the window I recognised her as Heather, the same wolf who had tried to feed me to one of her pack members the first time I’d been here.

“Byron is trying to get the others out,” I said.

“Then he’s a fool. Ash has given the pack permission to put down anyone who escapes.” She glared at me.

“Why would he do that?” I said. The heat building at my back caused sweat to drip into my eyes, and I scrubbed it away impatiently.

“Because we can’t risk the Elite tarring us all with the same brush,” she said before disappearing from view.

“Wait, I…” But it was too late, and I was forced to watch her sneakers disappearing through the grass.

Turning to face the room once more, I watched as another chunk of the ceiling caved in, sending up a shower of sparks and flames that spread through the basement. Every moment that ticked by brought Death one step closer.

I’d never imagined how I would die, but burning to death certainly hadn’t occurred to me. Fae could heal from some burns, but that took time. Other burns could not be healed at all.

“Darcey!” Byron’s voice jolted me from my thoughts, and I turned on the chair to see him peering in at me through the tiny window.

“Lucy got out,” I said, noting the panic in his eyes as he glanced at the encroaching flames behind me.

“I know, but you need to move,” he said. “Get back to the stairs—they’re still climbable, that’s how I got the others out.”

I shook my head and coughed as the smoke burned at the back of my throat. “The ceiling caved in, and now the whole area is blocked.”

Byron growled, his eyes flashing amber.

“Get away from the window and stay low to the ground,” he said, his voice barely recognisable through the rumble of his wolf.

Hopping off the chair, I covered my mouth with the edge of my T-shirt and crouched down low to the wall. Something heavy thudded against the wall next to me, causing it to shake as flecks of plaster rained down on me. Another thud, and the air was split with the sound of the window glass shattering. Chunks of plaster and brick collided and fell to the ground, causing the smoke to appear so dusty that I couldn’t see any further than my hand in front of my face.

Strong hands grabbed my shirt and dragged me onto my feet. I stared into Byron’s eyes as he lifted me and then shoved me unceremoniously through the hole he’d created in the wall of the house.

I dragged my body across the dry grass, coughing and heaving as I struggled to clear my airways and draw a deep, cleansing breath. Byron appeared next to me, wrapping his hands around my waist and lifting me to my feet. He half-ran, half-carried me away from the slowly disintegrating building and out onto the safety of the street.

I choked and hacked until I could finally draw a deep breath. The healing process had already begun, for which I was grateful—the last thing I wanted was to heal human-slow after so much smoke inhalation.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his grip on my shoulder a little too forceful as he raised my face so I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I’ll be fine. And thanks,” I added after a moment’s hesitation. If he hadn’t ripped down part of the wall, I would have suffered a long, slow, and agonising death.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he said, and I watched him search the crowd for his daughter.

“It was nothing,” I said, spotting the girl sitting on the edge of the curb, a small oxygen mask pressed over her nose and mouth. “How many others got out?”

Byron’s expression darkened, and I suddenly regretted the question.

“Thirteen,” he said, “out of thirty-two…”

My heart sank into my stomach, and I felt my knees crumple beneath me. So many had died, so many lives were lost…so many lives that could have been saved.

“And are the thirteen safe?” I asked.

Byron shot me an odd look and nodded. “Yeah, they’re being taken to the farm where my brother lives. There was some concern they might escape, but…” Byron trailed off and glanced back at his daughter. “I have to go, she’s getting upset.”

Without saying anything, I nodded. I could see she was getting agitated, and there was no way I was going to stand between a man and his daughter.

“I’ll swing by later in the morning,” he said, raising a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from my face.

I shrugged away from his touch and ducked my eyes to the ground to keep from seeing his look of hurt. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he’d kept something as huge as a kid from me…so what else was he hiding?

“Darcey, I…”

“Go,” I said, without raising my gaze to his. I didn’t want to hear his apologies. I didn’t want to know his reasons. That part was a lie—I desperately wanted to know his reasons but couldn’t bring myself to ask.

He sighed and stalked away, and the tightness in my chest slowly relaxed. Without risking a look in his direction, I headed for my motorbike. I needed a good cat-nap to speed up the healing process. I’d already been through way too much, and if I didn’t recharge soon I would be useless when the moon rose.

Just as I reached my bike, Heather’s hand wrapped around my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh. I’d heard her following me, and if she didn’t let me go soon, I was going to kick her ass.

“He should have let you die,” she said. “You bring nothing but death and bad luck everywhere you go.”

“You’re not exactly sunshine and roses yourself,” I added, staring pointedly at her hand on my arm.

“Just because he told you about his whelp doesn’t mean you two can start playing happy family.”

“If you want to keep your hand, I suggest you remove it from my arm,” I warned.

She laughed and released me. “You’re nothing like him. He’ll tire of you, and when he does…”

“Let me guess, you’ll be waiting with arms and legs open?” I snapped back, my exhaustion finally causing me to lose my temper.

She snarled and reached for me, but I punched her square in the face.

“I told you once, you’re welcome to him.” I added as I shook my hand. Punching wolves was a little too much like punching brick walls.

“The fae can’t lie,” she said through her bloody hands as she cupped her face.

“Well he’s a big boy, and I’m not his keeper,” I said. “He’ll make up his own mind, and I’m sorry if his vision for the future doesn’t include a bitter and vindictive cow like you.” I slammed my foot down on the kick-start, causing the bike to roar to life.

“I know Byron won’t choose me, but as long as I’m around, I’ll be damned if he chooses Death’s bitch over one of his own again.” She spat the words at me.

Laughter that bordered on hysteria bubbled up from my core as I gunned the throttle and raised my foot from the ground, allowing the bike to leap forward onto the road. I’d certainly been called some interesting things in my time, but ‘Death’s bitch’ was definitely a new one.

“Stay away,” she called after me, but I ignored her.

I drove away, her words slowly swirling in my head. What the hell had she meant when she’d said he wouldn’t choose anyone over his own again? I didn’t know anything about Byron’s past—I’d only just learned that he had a daughter. What other skeletons lurked in his closet? And were they the type that would get me killed?

As I rode back to the apartment, I couldn’t help but think that there were far too many questions, and not enough answers, cropping up. And the balance definitely needed to tip in the opposite direction—and fast—before even more people lost their lives.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

After a shower and a cup of coffee, I was slowly beginning to feel more like myself. But the aches and pains of both old and new injuries hadn’t faded, even after an hour of standing beneath the blistering heat of the shower head.

“Darcey,” Samira said, her voice muffled through the bathroom door. I stood in front of the mirror, peering at my reflection and the bruises that decorated the side of my face. Even my skin seemed paler than usual, which was really saying something.

“Yeah,” I called back, drawing my eyes away from my reflection.

“Byron is here to see you.”

I froze, my body going as still as the grave. He was the last person I wanted to see. Okay, that was a total lie, but there was no one to hear it, so it didn’t count.

“Fine,” I said, pushing away from the sink. I quickly braided my wet hair, my fingers moving deftly and with practised ease. If only everything could be so easy, I thought before I straightened my navy T-shirt with the huge ‘NO’ emblazoned across the front. Now that I thought about it, perhaps the T-shirt was subconsciously symbolic and Byron would take one look at it and turn tail.

Striding through the hall and into the living room, I found him staring out the window.

“Why are you here?” I blurted out, all thoughts of acting cool and collected fleeing as soon as he turned those dark eyes to mine.

“I said I would see you later in the morning, and it’s later in the morning,” he said, beating around the truth.

“Fine, but my clients don’t usually trail around after me,” I said. “And, anyway, I have things to do and people to talk to, and they won’t appreciate you tagging along.”

“Darcey, I’m sorry. I should have told you—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I don’t need to hear it. Honestly, it’s none of my business, and the last thing I need is to be dragged into it.” My stomach churned uncomfortably. I was skirting dangerously close to a lie.

He crossed the room toward me, then grabbed my arm and drew me to him as his other hand cupped my cheek. His eyes were fever-bright, and I could feel the cold clamminess of his skin against mine.

“You deserve to know the truth,” he said. “I didn’t keep Lucy a secret from you to hurt you…”

“That, I can believe,” I said, trying to tug my arm from him. “But you also didn’t tell me about her because you thought I would be more willing to help you if I fell for your charms.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Tell me, then—when exactly were you going to tell me about your daughter?”

He dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Is her mother still in the picture?”

He shook his head. “No. She abandoned Lucy when she was a baby…”

“How did Lucy get sick?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and his fingers flexed and dug into my arm. “How did you know?”

“We’ve been working on this for a couple of days now, and I’ve seen enough sick wolves to recognize them.”

“Lucy isn’t like me…” he said hesitantly.

“You mean she’s human?”

“Not exactly human, either. Her mother wasn’t a wolf; she was a shifter.”

I stared at him in shock. Wolves and shifters didn’t mix. Neither side saw the other as being worthy, or at least that’s what I’d always assumed. It was certainly how they all seemed to conduct their business.

“It was just a stupid fling, over before it really even began. She never told me when she got pregnant, and then one day she turned up with Lucy.” He released his hold on me and turned away.

I let him go, and then folded my arms across my chest. “You didn’t give the pack to your brother because you thought he would be a better alpha, did you?”

He shook his head. “No. I was the alpha, but when the pack realised what Lucy was, when they realised what I had done…”

“They exiled you,” I finished for him.

“When Lucy started to get sick, I came to my brother for help, and she attacked one of the pack members.”

At that moment, realisation dawned on me. Lucy was the reason for the sickness…she was patient zero, so to speak. But something about that didn’t make sense…

“I don’t understand… If she’s the original source of the infection, then where did she pick it up?”

“Something bit her. It was something I’ve never seen before, bigger and stronger than any wolf I’ve ever come across.” He shook his head. “I have no idea how I managed to get it off her.”

“Could it have been another shifter?” I asked.

Byron shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen the shifters in action, and this was different.” He hesitated. “I can only think of one thing it could be.”

“Well don’t keep it to yourself,” I said. “You already should have told me all of this.”

“I know,” he said, hanging his head, “and I wish I could tell you how sorry I am for not trusting you enough. But you’ve got to understand something, Darcey—she’s my daughter, and I would do anything for her. No matter how I might feel about someone else, Lucy will always come first. I owe her that.”

I nodded; what else could I say to that kind of declaration? He was right. Parents were supposed to be there for their kids, even though Lucy’s mom proved that things didn’t always work out that way.

“So what do you think attacked her?” I asked.

Byron cocked an eyebrow in my direction and tilted his head to the side, giving me a long, considering look before finally letting out a sigh. “One of the fae.”

“What did you say?” I asked, sound rushing in my ears as everything seemed to slow to a crawl.

“One of your kind. Not a banshee, but a fae.”

“You’re wrong,” I said.

“Why? Because you don’t want it to be true? I think you’re missing the truth here, Darcey. The fae think she’s an abomination, just like the shifters and wolves do.” The pain in his voice was almost unbearable. “That’s the most laughable part—they think she’s the abomination, but haven’t they looked in the mirror? None of us are natural or normal.”

“But why the fae?”

“Who the hell do you think created us in the first place?”

The Noree had spoken about the god and goddess who had created the wolves and shifters. It was entirely possible that the god and goddess were fae… in fact, the more I considered that, the more certain I felt. And it seemed that Byron had heard the same origin story.

“You should have told me this sooner,” I said. “It would have saved us all a lot of time. Why tell me now?”

“Because you want the truth,” he said simply.

“And you didn’t think I wanted it before?”

Byron stared down at his shoes, and I could see from the tightening of his jaw that he didn’t want to answer.

“Tell me, did you not think I would want the truth before now, or did you not think I was worthy of it?”

“I misjudged you, and I’m sorry,” he pleaded, still refusing to answer my question. Sometimes, though, the lack of answer spoke the loudest.

I stared into his eyes. “I will help you find the fae responsible for this and help you save your pack, but then we are done.”

“Darcey, what if I don’t want us to be done?” He grabbed my arm and drew me closer. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but…”

“But you did. I get you not telling me straightaway, really, I do. But continuing to keep the truth from me, pretending that you wanted more from me than just my help…” I trailed off. “You used me. That happened once before, and I swore I wouldn’t let it happen again, no matter how pure the intentions might be.”

Byron’s expression hardened, and he released his grip on my arm. “I see,” he said, his tone curt and tinged with anger. “So it’s like that, is it? We go back to being strangers? Throw whatever potential we have away?”

Frustrated, I threw my hands in the air. “What potential? The trust we had was built on a pack of lies.”

The colour had drained from his face, replaced by an icy anger that had spread to his eyes. He could be as angry as he wanted, I thought, but that changed nothing. He might have his daughter to protect, but I had people counting on me too.

“You should go back to your daughter,” I said. “When I find something, I’ll let you know.”

Byron shook his head and said, in a voice devoid of all emotion, “My brother wants to meet you.”

“What, so he can try and knock me off, just like that crazy Heather bitch?”

“I hired you without consulting him, so yeah, it’s going to be about all the things that’ve been going on,” he said.

“Not my problem. If he wants to talk to me, he knows where I am.” I spun away.

“Darcey, he’s an alpha… they give the orders, and others obey them,” he said. “Ash won’t like you ignoring his summons.”

I paused, my body stiffening. “I answer to one group only, and that is the Faerie Court, because I have no other choice.”

“But take heed, wolf,” I added, turning to meet his gaze, “there is nobody else on this earth that I obey in the same way. So if that upsets your brother, then he can tell me that to my face. I will not run around after him. Last time I checked, you were paying me, not him.”

Byron kept his expression stony, but I could see the turmoil hidden just behind his dark eyes. I watched him flex his hands before forcing them to relax, but his rigid stance betrayed his tension.

“Fine, I will pass on the message.” He turned from me and headed for the door.

The moment he was gone, I felt his loss acutely. Was I being too hard on him? Every instinct in my body told me I was doing the right thing, and yet part of me said that pushing him away was a mistake. Wouldn’t I have acted the same in his shoes?

I already knew the answer to that. But he had used me, used my emotions against me, and that just didn’t sit right with me, not after Mannan, who had used my feelings for him to justify his actions, his lies, and his abuse of my trust. And I had let him, because I’d thought that love meant allowing others to access the parts of yourself that were the most vulnerable. And, in a way, I’d been right, but I’d missed the part about making sure that person was worthy of your trust.

Was Byron?

“You can come out now,” I called to Samira, who poked her head around the door.

“What was that?” she said, trying to feign innocence.

“Really?” I said, my voice laden with scepticism.

“Fine, but I didn’t mean to listen in.”

I cocked an eyebrow in her direction and folded my arms across my chest.

“Fine,” she relented, “I meant to listen, but only because it’s the only way to find out anything around here. If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he intended to hurt you.”

“And you would know this how?”

“Because I overheard the Noree talking about the two of you, and she seems to think that he’s a fool for falling for you.”

“And what would she know?” I fumed.

“Probably more than you or I will ever know,” Samira said with a smile. “I might not like the woman—to be honest, she frightens me—but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know things.”

“Trust me when I say, she doesn’t care about anyone but herself,” I snapped. That might not be entirely true, but neither could I call it a lie.

Samira shrugged. “Anyway, listening to your conversation was good for one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“That whole thing about the fae creating the wolves and shifters? I read something about that in one of the books Noree sent over.”

Her words caught my attention. “What did it say?”

“Something about which gods created them… but I can’t fully remember. The book is written in a language I don’t recognize, and it takes a while to decipher. I left it back at the office yesterday.”

“Then get dressed,” I said. “We don’t have much time until the Huntress Moon rises, and I’ve got a feeling that the fae who created the wolves and the shifters is probably the same fae who bit Byron’s daughter.”

Samira started gathering some of the other books strewn around before disappearing to get dressed, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I dropped down onto the couch, a small smile crossing my lips as Havoc climbed onto my lap and began making biscuits on my jeans. “At least I can trust you,” I said to the kitten as she rubbed against my hand and hoisted her butt into the air as I stroked her soft fur. She meowed softly and gazed up at me with large, green eyes.

“You want to be fed again, don’t you?” I asked, and the kitten responded with another meow before roughly head-butting me straight in the face.

“I will take that as a yes,” I said, “but we’ve got no food here, so you’ll have to wait until I can pick something up from the deli.”

The kitten meowed again and settled on my chest, her small body rumbling as she began to purr.

Perhaps I had been far too harsh on Byron. But allowing myself to get caught up with him while working the case had been a mistake. From now on, it needed to be strictly business, at least until I could ensure the safety of not just the wolves in the city but also the humans. I’d seen what one rogue could do, and the thought of what an entire pack could do—hell, what Byron alone could do if he went rogue—caused a shudder to race through me.

I vowed to stop this disease before anyone else got hurt. As though she could read my thoughts, the kitten meowed again.

“All ready,” Samira said, bounding back into the living room.

“Time to get to work,” I said, climbing to my feet and taking the kitten with me.

The kitten dug her claws into me and meowed loudly.

“And,” I added, “time to get some food for this one.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I watched Samira hand-feed the kitten the last pieces of turkey from the deli box we’d bought for her. She’d complained so much on the way to the office that food had been our first pit stop.

Something about the office seemed off… I’d sensed it as soon as we’d gotten close enough to see in the windows from across the street. Nothing looked out of place, but the closer we got, the more uncomfortable I felt, as if someone was poking their nose where it didn’t belong. Try as I might, I just couldn’t shake my unease.

Pausing outside the front door, I peered in through the window as Samira pushed her key into the lock and turned it.

“Wait here,” I said, placing my hand on her arm before I pushed open the door with the toe of my boot and stepped inside.

Nothing moved, my books were still lined up perfectly on the shelf, and, from my vantage point at the door, I could make out my desk and Samira’s books still strewn across it. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Crossing the threshold, I made my way toward the back of the office and the locked and warded basement door. The moment I reached the centre of the room, I felt the energy levels spike, and I froze. Power prickled across my skin, but the attack I’d been expecting never came.

Taking another step forward, I felt my boot strike something solid a second before the glamour cloaking the room collapsed… and that something solid turned out to be the upper portion of a leg.

The remains of at least five bodies were strewn across the room.

“Crap,” I said, turning to Samira. “Close the blinds, we don’t need anyone seeing this.” I returned my attention to the mess, my stomach churning at the sight of so much carnage. The last time I’d witnessed a scene like this had been during the fae and vampire wars, but that had taken place on an open battlefield, not inside the tight confines of an office.

I spotted a small iron blade embedded in the back wall and picked my way through the gore to get a better look at it. The iron blade, along with the violet colour of the blood on the wall, led me to believe that I was looking at the remains of the pixies hired to kill me.

A second trail of violet blood soaking the carpet caught my eye. It had darkened so much that it looked almost black in the artificial light, smeared across the floor as though something or someone had tried to drag themselves away from the carnage.

I followed it to the basement door and then froze.

“Did you go into the basement when I wasn’t here yesterday?” I called over my shoulder to Samira, who was standing in the centre of the room. Her skin had turned an unpleasant greenish-grey, and far too much white was showing around the edges of her eyes. She was either going to run screaming from the place in hysterics or upchuck across the crime scene. For both our sakes, I was hoping she did neither.

“Samira, did you go into the basement when I wasn’t here yesterday?” I said again, but I already knew the answer. The room was heavily warded, and Samira knew not to go messing with the locks.

“No, I just hung out here for a bit, returning some phone calls and reading the books Noree sent.” She gestured to the desk.

I slowly descended the steps into the basement. My skin still prickled with energy, telling me that whoever had breached the wards was still here.

A pained moan from the back of the room had me grabbing the nearest practice blade from the wall. Crossing the space, I paused in front of the desk.

Idalina was propped up against the wall, her hands pressed over a ragged wound in her abdomen that was gushing violet blood over her hands and fingers. Her breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps, and her usually glowing skin was now ashy.

“What the fuck?” I said, taking a step toward her and running straight into the ward she’d set up around herself. It fizzed and prickled against my skin, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

“Don’t!” she warned, her voice low and faint. “Cross it and die.” Her eyes flickered open, and her unfocused gaze struggled to lock onto my face.

“Idalina, what happened?” I asked calmly. I figured a softer, gentler approach would probably get me the answers I wanted. “Take down the ward. You need help.”

She shook her head and grimaced in pain.

“No,” she said. “I know what you are, and I’m not going to let you trick me again.”

“Trick you? It’s me, Darcey,” I said, crouching down to gaze into her eyes. “I swear, it’s me, and I’m not trying to trick you.”

A solitary tear leaked from her bloodshot eyes and slowly trickled down her bruised and swollen cheek. “No, stop saying that! It’s just like before.”

I stared at her as she struggled to move further away from me but was prevented by the wall behind her and the wound she was desperately trying to hold closed.

Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed back onto my feet and closed my eyes. I wasn’t going to like crossing the ward, and under normal circumstances would definitely have avoided it. But as I watched her struggle to breathe as she sat in a pool of her own blood, I knew I didn’t have much time.

“Samira,” I called out.

“Yes?” Her voice was low and timid.

“I need you to get towels and the first aid kit I’ve got in the bathroom,” I said.

“Why?” She appeared on the stairs, her eyes widening as she spotted Idalina and the spreading pool of blood.

“That’s why,” I said, gesturing to the injured fae.

Without another word, Samira disappeared up the stairs and I could hear her slamming around in the bathroom.

Drawing in another deep breath, I sought out the part of me that was connected to the Between. My kind might have kicked me out, but the Between was still a part of me.

“What are you doing?” Idalina asked in a weak voice.

“No ward can stand before a true harbinger,” I said, drawing on the power of those who had come before me. “I feel your death drawing near, and I can bring you comfort in your hour of need.”

I took a step forward, the press of Idalina’s magic against my skin growing in intensity. The more I pressed the ward, the more intense my own power grew.

“Stop,” she said, but I ignored her.

Drawing in a breath, I felt her power wash through me, stinging and burning against every nerve ending in my body. And then it was gone, and I was through the ward.

She stared up at me and shook her head. “No, I don’t want to die.”

“Shhh, be still.” I crouched next to her and pressed the back of my hand to her feverish brow. Her skin was cold and clammy, reminding me of the way Byron felt with the infection riding him.

“What happened, Ida?” I said. She shouldn’t still be bleeding; it just didn’t make any sense. She was a fae, not a werewolf or shifter, but her wounds weren’t healing the way the fae should.

“She bit me,” she gasped. “She gave me the infection, thought it would stop me…” Her voice gave out with a shudder and she slumped to her side.

“Is she…” Samira asked, and I jumped at the unexpected sound of her voice.

“No, just passed out.” I reached for the towels Samira had in her arms.

Idalina’s ward had collapsed now that she was unconscious, making it easy for Samira to approach. Sliding the unconscious fae to the ground, I lifted her hands away from her ragged wound and sucked in a deep breath as her violet blood trickled onto the floor. It looked as though some kind of animal had tried to eviscerate her completely.

“She should be healing,” I said, grabbing a towel and pressing it against the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

The pressure drew Idalina around once more, and a low moan escaped her as she fought my grip.

“I need to keep the pressure, Ida. You’re losing too much blood.”

“It won’t heal,” she said softly.

“Tell me how to help,” I said.

“Lunn has the cure; he’s the only one who can help.”

I shook my head. “Why would Lunn have a cure for this?”

She drew in a shallow, shuddering breath. “He doesn’t have a cure, he is the cure.” She coughed hard enough that her entire body shook. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a long, ragged moan that tore at my soul.

“Samira, take over,” I said, grabbing her arm and dragging her closer. She hesitated for a moment but eventually moved with me. She pressed down on Idalina’s wound with the towel as I hopped to my feet and darted to the safe.

Her words didn’t make much sense. I’d never known Lunn to be a cure for anything, but Idalina would know the truth. They had been as close as two fae could be for centuries, and I’d often wondered if, despite her protests, their relationship was more than that of colleagues.

As I spun the wheel on the safe, the wards gave way easily. I tugged out the box carved from the cherry blossom tree in the Between.

“Oscailte agus nochtann,” I said beneath my breath, and the lid popped open in my hands. After lifting out a vial of Lunn’s blood, I crossed the floor back to Idalina.

“This better be right,” I muttered as I uncorked the vial and pressed the glass to her pale lips. Lunn’s violet blood smeared across the unconscious fae’s lips and teeth as I tried to feed it to her.

Nothing happened. Truthfully, though, I had no idea what was supposed to happen. Blood-sharing was more the vampires’ gig. Perhaps I’d done something wrong? Or perhaps she was simply delirious because she was so close to death.

I paused, my breath catching in the back of my throat as I realised I could no longer feel Death. I’d felt its lingering presence as I’d entered the basement, but now…

Closing my eyes, I allowed my senses to wander freely, searching outward in ever expanding circles for that which seemed to be eluding me. I could feel the deaths of those upstairs, their lives ripped away before their time.

“Darcey, look,” Samira said, her wet fingers digging into my arm, forcing me to open my eyes once more.

The colour was slowly returning to Idalina’s cheeks, and her skin was no longer quite so cold and clammy. Lifting the towel, I stared down at the wound. It was still ragged, but the bleeding had slowed dramatically.

“Pass me the gauze padding,” I said to Samira as I watched Idalina’s breaths grow deeper as she slipped into sleep.

Samira did as I asked, and I hastily bandaged up the fae’s wound as best I could.

Sliding my hands under Idalina, I lifted her from the floor and carried her to the couch so she could rest until she was able to tell me what happened.

Once I’d finished with her, I stared down at the vial of blood I’d replaced in the box. How had it healed her? I didn’t know the answer to that, but I wondered if Lunn’s blood could also be used to heal the wolves. They had the same symptoms as Idalina, after all.

“Did Byron ever give us a number to contact him on?” I asked.

Samira shook her head and slowly straightened the desk Idalina had obviously moved out of the way. Even gravely injured, she was still every inch the Faerie Court enforcer, removing obstacles that prevented a clear view of any potential enemies while still giving herself enough cover for protection.

“No, he kept meaning to do it, but he never got around to it.”

“Shit,” I muttered beneath my breath. “I’ve…” I trailed off as I stared at Idalina.

“Go,” Samira said. “I’ll call Mazik, and he can come and help me clean up.”

I wrinkled my nose at the thought of all the blood and body parts scattered around upstairs. “I’m getting pretty tired of clearing dead bodies out of there.”

“That makes two of us,” she said, and Havoc meowed in response. “Sorry, three of us.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” I said.

Samira shook her head and smiled. “Go. Who knows, maybe my good deed for the day will see me get this collar off sometime soon.”

Grabbing the box with the last vials, I headed for the stairs. “Just pray I find him before the moon rises.”

Samira gave me a solemn smile as I took the stairs two at a time and then headed for my bike. Lunn’s blood seemed like such a long shot for the cure, but I’d long ago discovered that most things concerning the fae were long shots. It only made sense that this time would be no different.

Chapter Thirty

The street where the safe house stood was much easier to find the second time around, especially when I spotted the thick plumes of black smoke still hanging in the air from two blocks away. The other houses seemed just as deserted as every other time I’d been here, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched as I drew up in front of the house’s burnt shell.

I opened the saddlebag to reassure myself that the box with the last two vials was indeed still inside before grabbing one and slipping it inside my jacket. Then I made my way around the property.

Why I’d thought Byron would be here was beyond me, but I had nowhere else to go. And from what I’d seen last night, he’d been staying here with his daughter and the other sick wolves.

Crouching down next to the house, I pressed my hand against a couple of the bricks. Heat still remained in the cindered ash, but that wasn’t all I could feel. Tears tracked down my cheeks as I realised one of the more pungent aromas belonged to the infected rogues who had perished in the blaze. I’d been around enough burned bodies to know the smell anywhere.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” I said, more to the air than anyone who might hear me.

“You shouldn’t have come, bitch,” a female voice snarled from somewhere behind me.

I balled my hands into fists and pushed slowly onto my feet. “I’m not here to fight. I just want to know where Byron is.” I fought to keep the edge from my voice as I turned around.

“Why would I tell you?” Heather said, sweat beading on her forehead. Her hair was plastered to her neck, and not just because of the sweat. She was covered in blood. Her dark clothes hid most of it, but I could see it smeared across her face, neck, and mouth. Her eyes were fever-bright as she stared at me, and my heart sank in response.

“Because I’m trying to help you,” I said.

She snorted unpleasantly, and I watched the wolf within her rise. “Help us? You’ve only made things worse.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said, raising one hand in an attempt to keep her calm.

“Don’t keep saying you’re sorry. You’re just another liar—it’s one lie after another, and I’m so sick of listening to them, sick and tired of hearing them over and over…” She was rambling, edging closer before beginning to pace up and down in front of me.

I didn’t want to kill her, but if it came down to a fight between her or me, I was going to choose me.

“The fae can’t lie,” I said.

“Another lie,” she yelled, beating her fist against her chest hard enough that I expected to hear ribs crack. “You lie all the time… especially that other one.”

Goose bumps ran across my skin, and I took a tiny step backward. “What one, Heather?” I said, repeating her name in an attempt to keep her focused on both the conversation and the fact that she was still human, that her wolf hadn’t yet taken control.

“The other fae,” she snarled. “Said she knew a cure, said you were keeping it to yourself. But when I went to find it, there was nothing but a trap.” Her eyes snapped up, and I could see they had changed to amber.

“Where did you go, Heather?” I said, but I already knew the answer.

“I went to find you, but all I could find were other fae who wanted me dead… I feasted on their flesh…” She stared down at her bloody hands. “I tried to follow the injured one, but she got down the stairs before I could snap her neck… Mother wasn’t happy.”

The last sentence caught my attention. “What did you say?”

“Beast Mother wasn’t happy, said I didn’t deserve the cure for letting her down…”

I’d heard the vampires call Auriella the Beast Mother. Was that also what others in the preternatural community knew her as?

“Do you mean Mother of the Hunt? Auriella?”

“I’m not allowed to call her that. I can only call her Mother… but she’s not my mother…” A low whine crept past Heather’s lips, and she tossed her head as though she was hearing something in her mind other than her own voice. “She said the sickness was punishment for allowing the abomination to live…”

It all clicked into place. Byron had said a creature unlike any he’d ever seen had attacked his daughter, and if that was Auriella’s other form, her beast form, I could well imagine he’d never laid eyes on the likes of it. But could Auriella be the goddess from Noree’s stories, the one who had created the shifters? She’d certainly lived long enough to have once been considered a goddess, and she definitely had the power for it.

“Lucy is just a child,” I said. “She doesn’t deserve any of this… none of you do. Don’t you see that Auriella is trying to turn you all against one another? She wants to destroy you.”

Heather shook her head and whined again, the sound grating against my ears as I attempted to circle away from her and back toward the motorcycle. If she changed now, then there was no hope for me. And my presence seemed to be speeding the infection through her body.

“Auriella is not your mother, Heather. You said it yourself—she helped create the shifters but not the wolves.”

Heather glanced up at me, and I saw a flash of panic in her feverish eyes. “Help me,” she begged.

“I can, but you’ve got to fight this.”

“Don’t listen to her, Heather.” Auriella’s voice came from somewhere behind me.

I jerked my head around to search the wreckage of the house, and for a split second I could have sworn I saw her. But she was gone in the blink of an eye, and so I directed my attention back to Heather, who had drawn nearer.

“She’s screwing with your head. She made you sick; she caused this.” I was fighting to keep my voice calm but failing miserably. “Let me help you.”

“Don’t listen to her, child. I told you what she was. I showed you her truth. Now shift and finish this!” The air of authority in Auriella’s voice tingled across my skin. But by the time I realised what she’d done, it was already too late.

Heather’s skin rippled from within, her fingers flexing as claws appeared. She fell to the ground and screamed as the beast within her tore out through her human flesh until her black, glossy wolf coat shone in the afternoon sun. The wolf paused and shook herself off from head to foot, and when she looked up at me again I saw a flash of the human Heather in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, swallowed by the raging, blood-thirsty wolf that growled low in her throat and ducked her head toward the ground as she stalked toward me.

I had two vials of Lunn’s blood left and, thanks to Heather’s rambling, had no doubt that it would work. But how the hell was I supposed to get the blood into her now?

Slipping my hand inside my jacket, I pulled the vial free as Heather moved closer. She snapped her jaws in a low snarl as I held the vial out to her.

“You don’t have to do as she says, Heather, but I can help you,” I said, trying to bring as much stillness to my body as I could. My other hand closed around the hilt of the silver dagger tucked into the back of my jeans. “You just gotta let me help you.”

She snarled again and lunged forward. She slammed her paws into my chest, intent on taking us both crashing toward the ground, but I was prepared for the move. Werewolves suffered from a little disorientation after their shift, which I used to my advantage. I wrapped my arms around her neck and dug my fingers into her thick fur as I neatly side-stepped her collision course. Then, with as much force as my legs could manage, I pushed off from the ground and swung my body over her back. Lunn had taught me the move while we were training, and I’d never been able to use it against him, no matter how hard I tried.

Heather was a different story. She twisted in my grip as I swung over her, but I locked on despite her bucking and heaving and dug my knees into her broad chest.

She howled in pain as I grabbed the top of her muzzle and dragged her jaws open. She attempted to clamp down on my arm and hand as I rammed the vial of Lunn’s blood down her throat.

It wasn’t perfect, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I heard the vial crunching into pieces and then flung myself off Heather, rolling free of her as she pawed at her mouth. Blood and saliva dripped down from between her teeth, creating heaps of pink, foamy slobber.

She whined again, her ears flattening against her head as she dropped onto the ground and shifted back to human. Blood still coated her lips, and her breaths were coming in short, hard pants as she dug her fingers into the earth and screamed.

“Heather, can you hear me?” I said, inching closer as she dug at the ground.

When she lifted her face, I could see that her eyes were slowly returning to normal.

“What did you do?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

“Tried a long shot,” I said, still warily keeping my distance from her.

“I can’t feel the infection anymore,” she said gruffly. “I don’t feel great, but I’m definitely not sick either.” She tried to push up onto her knees.

“I don’t have any spare clothes,” I said, suddenly realising she was naked. The change obviously had a devastating effect on her wardrobe.

She shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. I’m a were—if I wasn’t comfortable being naked around others by now, then there would be no hope for me.”

“Well…” I trailed off as Auriella appeared a few feet behind Heather. “No!” I screamed, and lunged forward, but Auriella was faster. She smiled at me as she wrapped her clawed hand through Heather’s inky hair and jerked her to her feet. Heather had only a split second to look at me in surprise before Auriella thrust her hand through the werewolf’s chest.

Time stood still as I watched the light fade from Heather’s eyes, her heart still frantically beating in Auriella’s outstretched hand.

“This is what happens when you try to stop me.” Auriella jerked her hand back out of Heather’s chest and released the grip on her hair.

I caught Heather before she hit the ground, but there was nothing I could do. Werewolves were resilient creatures, capable of healing terrible wounds… but not this. No creature on earth could survive something like this. Heather’s body twitched, her muscles spasming and her mouth opening and closing as her brain struggled to catch up with what had happened. When it did, she fell still and silent, leaving me holding her shell.

I hadn’t liked her. And she certainly hadn’t been a fan of me. We hadn’t gotten off on the right foot, to put it lightly, but none of that mattered now. She had been alive. She had loved and was loved in return. Her place on this earth had been her own, and Auriella had taken it from her. And why? Because, from where I stood, she was nothing but a bitter and twisted old fae who never wanted anyone else to find happiness.

I wanted to mourn Heather the way she deserved, but I couldn’t. There was an emptiness inside me that took my breath away.

I glanced up at Auriella, and whatever she saw in my face made her laugh, the sound echoing through the deserted street.

“Why so serious, Darcey? It’s not as though you and the wolf were particularly fond of each other. One might even say I have done you a favour.”

“I will kill you for this,” I said, my voice so cold, so emotionless, that it surprised even me.

“If you could kill me, you’d have done it already,” she said, tossing aside Heather’s heart like garbage.

After laying Heather’s body out on the ground, I climbed to my feet and met Auriella’s gaze with a steely one of my own.

“I’m not afraid of the repercussions anymore. There was a time when I worried about what the Court might do to me if I disobeyed them. But then I met you and realised it doesn’t matter what the Court wants or doesn’t want. They allowed something like you free rein to torture and terrify all those around you. You’ve murdered innocent fae, and for what? For your own selfish gains.” I paused and took a long breath. “But then I realised something else.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her smile stretching wide over her sharp teeth.

“You can’t kill me. Not without the Court’s blessing, at least, and they’re not likely to give it to you.”

She growled and took a step closer to me.

“Go on,” I said, spreading my arms wide. “Do it, if you dare; I’m standing right here.”

Auriella’s eyes widened a little, and then she took a small step backwards. She still wore a smile, but now it wasn’t quite so happy and carefree. “I don’t need to kill you,” she said. “The wolves will do it for me once they realise what you’ve done.” She gestured to Heather’s body. “No one will believe you before it’s too late…”

I lunged toward her, but she was already gone.

“Tick-tock, Darcey. The Huntress Moon is coming, and the wolves are mighty hungry…” Her voice lingered around me, taunting me.

I stared down at Heather’s dark eyes, already grey in death. Auriella might be crazy, but she was right about one thing—the Huntress Moon was coming, and I was fast running out of both Lunn’s blood and options.

Chapter Thirty-One

By the time I’d found a suitable, if temporary, resting place for Heather, I was filthy. Digging graves, even makeshift ones, had never been my strong suit.

I dreaded returning to the office, but I needed a clean set of clothes…not that I expected there to be clean clothes amidst the carnage, but anything was better than the bloodstained, dirt-covered rags I was currently wearing.

Pushing open the door, I was surprised to find the office restored to order.

Samira sat behind the desk, one of the Noree’s books propped open in front of her, as Havoc rolled around on the untidy papers strewn across the counter.

“Wow,” I said, staring around. “How did you manage this?”

“I might be wearing a collar, but I’m still a witch,” Samira said, gesturing with her head toward the corner nearest the door. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted Byron lounging there, his eyes closed, but I could tell from the flicker of tension that slid through his body that he was still awake and alert.

“What happened?” Samira asked, hopping up from her chair behind the desk.

“Not really something I can discuss,” I said, cocking an eyebrow at her before subtly inclining my head in Byron’s direction.

“You do know that a wolf’s hearing is good enough to detect even the hairs on your head moving,” Byron said, without opening his eyes.

“Good to know.” I strode toward the stairs.

I heard the soft creak of the chair he’d been perched on, and my shoulders tightened as he grabbed my arm and swung me around to face him. I crashed against the wall, pain momentarily flaring in my back as he pinned me in place. He leaned toward my neck and drew in a deep breath.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice husky with his barely-controlled wolf.

“I…”

“You smell of wolf and death.” His voice dropped even lower as he fell to his knees in front of me and thrust his face against my stomach.

Before I could think about what I was doing, I had my silver dagger pressed to the side of his throat. “Watch where you put those teeth, wolf.”

He froze, as though I’d driven the knife into his neck, and I was instantly reminded of the stillness of Heather’s cold body.

“You killed recently,” he said, continuing to sniff me. “Who was it?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Not me. The one who caused all of this.”

Byron’s grip tightened on me almost imperceptibly. If he wanted to, he could crush my body faster than I could jam the knife into his neck. Not from a lack of speed on my behalf, but hesitation. I didn’t want to hurt him.

“Who was it?” he asked again.

“Heather.”

He peered up at me, the wolf within sliding into his eyes. I should have been afraid, but the last few days had been a rollercoaster of emotion, and I was running on empty.

“Swear you had no hand in her death.”

“I can’t,” I said, and Byron’s grip tightened again, this time a little more forcefully. “I feel responsible. We didn’t get along, but I didn’t want to see her dead. I wanted to help her, save her…”

He released me and slumped down onto the ground. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t doubt you, but I can feel the moon calling me, telling me that everyone is my enemy…”

“There’s a cure,” I said, and Byron’s head snapped up.

“How do you know?”

“We used it on a fae who had the same sickness,” Samira chimed in.

“Why would you think something that worked on a fae would work on the wolves?” he demanded, turning to face her.

“Because I used it on Heather right before Auriella killed her,” I said softly.

“She was sick?”

“Yeah, I think she must have been bitten while moving the surviving wolves last night,” I said. “Obviously, I don’t know for certain, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“It might be spreading through the pack bonds themselves. The closer we get to the moon, the stronger the infection becomes. Our connection with one another is usually an asset, but in this case it’s more a curse. But with a cure it won’t matter.” He pushed his hands over his face and sighed with relief. “So where is this cure, then?”

“I don’t have much left,” I said, and watched as Byron’s hopeful expression fell.

“Can’t we get more?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I hope so…”

“Well, how much is left?”

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I said, “One vial.”

“How many will that cure?”

“I don’t know… one, maybe, two if we’re lucky. Or everyone, if we’re smart about it.”

“Will there be enough for Lucy?”

“There’s no way to know until we try it.”

He nodded decisively. “Fine. Come with me.”

My stomach knotted painfully as the truth dawned on me. “Byron, what about the rest of the pack?”

“What about them? She’s my daughter, and I have to do whatever I can to save her.”

“And normally I would agree, but…” Bile ran up the back of my throat. I didn’t want to be the responsible one. I didn’t want to think of the future. He’d hurt me by keeping secrets, but I wanted to save them all. The last thing I wanted was to stand here and watch his heart break.

I now understood why the little girl’s future was so uncertain, and that knowledge nearly crippled me.

“But nothing, Darcey,” he said. “We can make her better. Nothing else matters.”

I looked from his face to Samira’s, where I saw the same expectant expression that he wore. She thought I could do the impossible and save the day, when the truth was, most of the time, I could barely get myself out of situations intact.

“Can we really afford to just give her the cure and risk the pack going rogue and ripping the city apart?” I asked. “Think of all the lives that’ll be lost if we don’t at least try to help them first.”

Byron stared at me, his expression growing harder. His wolf was blatant in his gaze; he’d clearly stopped trying to conceal it.

“She’s my daughter, Darcey. Don’t ask me to make that kind of choice.”

“I’m making that choice for you, Byron. You have to understand that this is not what I want. I want to see Lucy well and cured, but she’s just not as dangerous as the wolf pack to an entire city of vulnerable humans. I have to think of what will preserve the most life.”

“She doesn’t deserve to die,” he said, his face crumpling. “Please, Darcey, I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t do this to my little girl.” The pleading in his voice ripped apart my heart more than his claws ever could.

“I want to give her the cure too,” I whispered.

“Then let her have it,” he said, hope lighting his eyes.

I started to nod.

“Darcey is right,” Idalina said from the doorway. “As much as this hurts, think of all the innocents who will lose their lives if you don’t remove the biggest threat to the city.” She was leaning heavily against the doorway, her face pale and the dark rings beneath her eyes making her look gaunt.

“And who are you?” Byron demanded.

“Probably the only one who can help Darcey get more of the cure, if it exists, so I’d watch your tongue.”

“What do you mean, if it exists?” I asked.

“Auriella plans to kill Lunn before the night is out. Once the werewolves turn, it’ll weaken him enough for her to finally do what she has wanted to do for five millennia.”

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open.

“What?” Samira was the first to break the silence. “But that’s five thousand years… you can’t be serious.”

“Since when is Lunn five thousand years old?” I blurted out, trying to imagine what it was like to be as old as some of the museum artefacts that needed to be kept in special temperature-controlled cabinets.

“He’s actually older than that, but Auriella has been trying to figure out a way to kill him for the past five thousand years,” Idalina said. “She seriously knows how to hold a grudge.”

“Wait, they’re the gods from the stories?” I’d figured out that Auriella was the goddess, but Lunn was the god who had betrayed her?

“Yup, the mother and father of the wolves and shifters,” she said.

“Shit.” I let out a whistle beneath my breath.

Just how badly did you have to screw up to go from being a god, the creator of a race of creatures, to being an enforcer for the Faerie Court? And if Lunn wielded so much power, then why hadn’t I ever seen any of it? So many questions, but he wasn’t here to answer them… and if Idalina was telling the truth, then he soon wouldn’t be around to answer any questions at all.

“Where is she keeping him?”

“She has a den in Faerie,” Idalina said. “I barely got out of there alive… She still has the loyalty of some of the Wild Hunt.”

I’d come face-to-face with the Wild Hunt once before, and I’d seen more than enough of those nightmarish beasts to last me a lifetime.

“I’m still exiled,” I said. “Imagine the kinds of repercussions that would befall me when I disobeyed the Court.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she said. “In the meantime, you need to get the last of the cure to the pack before the moon rises. Is the wolf trustworthy enough to take it?”

“He’s trustworthy.” And that was true, to an extent. Though I had a niggling worry that he might keep the cure for his daughter, I needed to believe that he would do what was best for everyone.

“Darcey, you need to come with me,” he said, his words catching me off guard.

“What, why?”

“I just need you to come with me,” he said again without elaborating, and my blood pressure ticked upwards.

“Why?” I demanded. “Is this about that alpha shit from this morning, because you can tell your brother that I don’t give a crap. Alpha or not, I will not be ordered around. I am not a wolf.”

“The cops are involved,” Byron said, and this got my attention.

“I don’t understand. You didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t get a chance. When you came in smelling of death and wolf, I lost my head and forgot my priorities.”

“When you say cops, do you mean human cops or the Elite?”

“Human cops,” he said. “After I left here, I went to see my brother. He told me they had come calling, wanting to know the whereabouts of some of the pack members. Some perished in the fire, but others…”

I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I pushed my hand impatiently through my hair, causing several strands to break free of my braid and fall around my face.

“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

“Some of the wolves we rescued from the fire escaped, and now my brother believes I betrayed him,” he said.

“Right, and the human cops fit into this how?”

Byron let out a long breath that ended in a shudder.

“The wolves that escaped attacked a couple of joggers in the park this morning, ripped them completely asunder.”

I stared at him as the words sank in. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I am?”

“So, where are they now?”

“They have not been seen. We assume they’ve either perished from the infection or the Elite have them.”

I stared at him, dread and nausea growing in the pit of my stomach. “What does this mean?”

“My brother wants to meet. He wants to see you with his own eyes to make sure I’m telling the truth about you. If we don’t, he will put a bounty on our heads and let the others hunt us down.”

“Your brother is an asshole,” I said through gritted teeth.

“He is only doing what I myself would do in his position,” he said.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole,” I said. “Anyway, we weren’t alone when the house burned down last night, so couldn’t the others vouch for us?”

“I tried to tell him that, but he’s not interested.”

“Fine, we’ll see him,” I said, irritation colouring my words.

Byron inclined his head in my direction.

“So when you’re done with the family niceties, where will we meet?” Idalina asked. “Your entrance to Faerie was always different from mine.”

“We’ll use yours,” I said, catching Byron’s eye as he headed for the door. “We can’t go right now, though. I’ve got to call someone to come round and make sure Samira stays safe.”

Byron shook his head. “The arrangements are already made.”

“I’m going over to visit Tim,” Samira said, a coy smile hovering around her lips.

“And who is Tim?”

“The friend Byron introduced me to last night. It’s Tim’s coffee shop,” she said, and the name sounded vaguely familiar.

“The place across the street?” I asked. Samira nodded and grabbed her bag from the desk.

“He said I can bring Fuzzikins with me,” she added.

The look I gave her would have withered lesser women, but Samira squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin defiantly. “You might have decided to call her Havoc, but that doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to it.” Then she threw her bag over her shoulder and scooped up the cat.

I didn’t respond; I had no time to argue with her over the name of the cat. But secretly I knew Fuzzikins would never stick.

Samira placed her hand on my arm, the expression in her eyes softening. “Don’t go too hard on him,” she said.

“Samira,” I warned, but she shook her head and grinned.

“Look, you know me, I’ll always stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong. But please, just remember that he’s not the enemy.” She released me and headed for the door without looking back. I turned to watch her cross the street. The tall blond man who greeted her in the doorway with a warm smile looked happy to see her.

“What is Tim?” I asked, turning to face Byron, who hadn’t moved an inch.

“A witch. He runs the place with his sister, Emily. The pair of them are more like family to me than anything else,” he said, and the sudden warmth in his tone told me he was telling the truth.

Glancing back out the window, I could just make out a petite blonde woman bouncing past Tim and dragging Samira inside. If Byron believed she would be safe with them, she probably would be.

“Why does she wear a collar?” he asked suddenly, breaking my train of thought.

“It’s a long story, and it’s not really my tale to tell,” I said, heading for the basement stairs. Idalina was already gone, no doubt making preparations for whatever awaited us in Faerie.

He didn’t answer, instead following me and trailing my every move. I felt him cross the wards I’d set up to guard the basement, his warmth tingling my skin as he descended the steps. His wolf was close to the surface today, no doubt a product of the sickness, but I wondered if perhaps his brother’s ultimatum had contributed.

“You’re bringing weapons?” he asked in surprise.

“Of course,” I said, resisting the urge to add a ‘duh’ to the statement, but that would have been childish and so I bit back the word. What exactly did he expect? This wasn’t going to be a friendly chat, especially not if his brother was tossing around words like ‘bounty’ and hunting us down like we were little more than common criminals. In fact, his brother would be lucky to walk away from the meeting with his pelt intact.

“He won’t take kindly to you walking into the den armed,” Byron said.

“And I don’t take kindly to people giving me orders.” I strapped the silver blades to my wrist sheaths. “I’m bringing him a cure, so he could at least be happy.”

Byron said nothing, but continued to watch with interest as I geared up. Some of the weapons were for my meeting with Byron’s brother, but most wouldn’t come into use until I stepped foot in Faerie. If I was lucky, I still wouldn’t need the half of them, but luck was for leprechauns.

The Bone Blade hung from my belt, and for good measure I strapped a long sheath to my back, securing it in place under my arms and around my waist. Pulling my hair out of the way, I slid the long blade into place, the handle easily reachable beneath my braid.

Byron’s eyes had widened slightly at the sight of the steel sword, but he didn’t say anything else. Either he was honestly afraid I would use it on him if he questioned me again, or he’d just given up his attempts at changing my mind.

Grabbing a combination of wickedly sharp iron throwing knives and silver-coated steel ones, I arranged them in place around my belt and inside my boots. Guns would always have the advantage against wolves, but I just couldn’t quite wrap my head around using guns as weapons. They gave you the ability to kill from a distance, which seemed like a good idea, but I’d been brought up on blades. Something about them appealed to me.

Perhaps it was my Unseelie nature, but I enjoyed the proximity a knife or a sword required—getting up close and personal, the spill of blood across cold steel, the ability to look into your enemy’s eyes as you brought their life to an end.

Closing my eyes, I shook off the frisson of excitement that raced up my spine. Now was not the time to get caught up in memories.

“Lead the way,” I said, reopening my eyes to find myself staring into Byron’s gaze as the predator within swam up to the surface.

“Your scent,” he said, drinking deeply of me, “it changed. What were you thinking about just now?”

“Nothing that will help us,” I said, hating the hoarse longing in my voice. I clenched my hands into fists, so badly wanting to tuck the loose silver lock of his hair back behind his ear.

Goddess, what was wrong with me? Here I was, covered in blood and grave dirt and turning into a quivering wreck every time I was within touching distance of his skin. The only other man I’d ever been so drawn to in this animalistic way was Lunn, but that was part of his power. Now that I knew he had been worshipped as a god, I understood why humans threw themselves at his feet, why they lost their minds just trying to get one look from him. Hell, physical contact with Lunn had the power to turn even my knees to jelly. Of course, knowing he had been the father of the wolves made everything else about him fall into place.

The wolf in Byron’s eyes faded slowly, and he straightened up once more. He drew a deep breath into his chest, his shoulders rising slowly as a rueful smile crossed his lips.

“You do things to me that no one before you was capable of,” he said, closing his eyes and letting his head drop back.

“Ditto,” I said with a sigh. Pretending like I wasn’t attracted to him wasn’t going to achieve anything. He could hear my heart beating, and if my scent changed when I thought of the past, then it definitely changed when I thought of him without clothes, his sweat-slicked skin pressed to mine.

“Stop it,” he said suddenly, and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, the pain shattering the image that had threatened to swallow all of my self-control.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I said, putting as much distance between us as the small basement would allow. Byron’s reaction reminded me of Lunn, and the way mere proximity to him could cause me to lose my head. My heart ached at the memory. What if we didn’t get to him in time?

Byron wouldn’t even look at me as he turned toward the stairs, taking them two at a time back up to the main office.

Great, so not only was I attracted to him in ways unbefitting any self-respecting harbinger, but now he had practically run away from me. Was he expecting me to jump him?

With a growl of frustration, I gathered up the last of my blades and followed him back up to the office, crushing down every ounce of attraction I had for him. The last thing I wanted was to visit his brother, but since we had to, then I needed to be in control of my feelings. Byron might know I wanted him, but I didn’t need a whole den of wolves knowing it too.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I followed Byron through the city on my bike as he wound through the traffic and led us to its outer limits.

Byron killed the engine and let his bike roll to a stop on the rough gravel, dust kicking up around the wheels as he steadied himself with his legs straddled on either side. I followed suit, remaining on the bike as I stared up at the white-slatted house and the huge wraparound porch where several people milled around. They watched us warily as the dust settled and the breeze carried our scent toward them, and I watched as their eyes shifted to amber.

The sound of a screen door slapping against the side of the house cracked through the awful silence that had descended around us like a mantle. A man who looked like a younger version of Byron appeared. His hair and eyes were the same rich colour, but he was missing the Mallen streak and his shoulders weren’t as broad. As I stared at him, I quickly realised he was also shorter than his brother, and the dusting of stubble on his face was much blonder in colour, almost invisible in the dim light of the covered porch.

His flip-flops slapped against the worn boards of the porch as he walked toward us, and his jeans hung loose on his waist as though he’d recently dropped a lot of weight. His cheeks were hollow and sunken, and the dark circles beneath his eyes gave him a haunted look. His grim expression did nothing to lighten the mood that was growing more and more hostile as the weres already gathered on the porch moved into a loose formation.

“We came as you asked, brother,” Byron said, his voice calm and lacking the usual challenge and authority I’d come to expect.

“Not before I had to threaten you. Don’t you think there was enough to worry about?” Ash’s anger caused the hairs on the backs of my arms to stand to attention.

“For that, I am sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.” Byron held his brother’s gaze.

“You are not alpha here. You do not think unless I say it is so!” Ash’s voice lifted with anger. It dawned on me then that they were having a staring contest, as if they were kids in a playground. Of course, the outcome would probably be different, but the level of ridiculous was the same.

“I don’t mean to interrupt the pissing contest you two seem to be enjoying,” I said. “You might be alpha of your pack, but I am not pack and don’t come running when you whistle. And if your bitch takes one step closer to me, I will present her head to you while her heart still beats.”

I felt the wolf behind me halt. Her progress had been stealthy and silent, but I’d caught her scent in the downwind when she’d dropped from the tree next to the driveway as we drove in. Her scent was similar to Heather’s, and I wondered if they were related.

Byron broke from the staring match, and I felt his eyes graze over me before he turned to the woman who was within leaping distance of me. A low growl trickled from his lips, and I felt the tension in the air ratchet up several notches.

“You wouldn’t dare harm one of mine,” Ash said.

“If you think I wouldn’t, then you don’t know me very well,” I said, my voice filled with icy certainty. “I won’t touch her if she backs off, but if any of yours attempt to harm me I will finish them.”

Part of me hoped she would continue forward, that she would jump the way her readied muscles said she wanted to. What was wrong with me? I was standing in a wolf stronghold, and I was hoping to go to war? Was I nuts?

“Stand down, Michaela.” Power rippled through Ash’s words, tightening my muscles as it slid across my skin.

I felt her disappointment, but still she didn’t move. No human in her position would have been able to keep such laser focus, but she was a true predator who could remain locked on me for as long as necessary.

“Michaela.” Byron’s voice cut through the tension, the power he called forth rushing over me in a scalding heat.

The wolf behind me let out a low-pitched whimper and stumbled backwards on the gravel. Byron had said his brother was fit to lead, that he was the true alpha, but the difference in their power was like night and day.

“You’re disciplining my wolves now, brother?” Ash said, and a low whine of frustration escaped the wolves who had gathered at his back.

“I did not come here to fight you; I came to help. So please, Ash, let me.” I hadn’t expected to hear Byron pleading.

Forgetting where I was for a moment, I took my eyes off Ash and the other wolves, my gaze falling instead on Byron as he lifted his hands to his brother in an almost submissive gesture. It pained me to see him pleading. He was a true alpha. Byron’s father might have told him that he was built for war while his brother was built to lead, but, as I stood in their presence, I couldn’t help but disagree.

“I have a cure,” I said. “Not much, but perhaps enough to keep the worst at bay until I can get more.” I spoke loud enough for any wolves nearby to hear. I half-turned, giving my shoulder, but not my back, to the strange alpha.

The air shifted around me as Ash launched himself across the short distance between us. He’d used my momentary distraction to take the upper hand. He had no intention of making peace or accepting that his brother had come to me for help. But then, what else could I expect from weres? Just like the moon they worshipped, they were ruled by emotions that could change like the tides.

Rolling backwards off the bike, I landed on my feet and crouched low in the gravel, my boots a little unsteady on the stones determined to shift beneath me. The moment I’d felt the first flicker of movement from him, I’d pulled two silver blades free of my belt and readied myself for impact.

Ash slammed into the motorcycle, sending it skidding away as he half-shifted and reached toward me with clawed hands. I brought the blades up in front of my face and then sliced down the insides of his wrists in an arc. A roar escaped him, but he kept coming despite the silver blades and the blood dripping onto the ground. I jumped, using my crouched position as extra leverage as I back-flipped out of his reach, my booted foot connecting with his half-human, half-canine jaw.

He fell backwards, and I readied myself for another assault, lining up the blades in my hands as I prepared to throw them. Ash climbed to his feet and moved toward me once more, but Byron was there before the knives could leave my hands. He slammed into his brother, sending them both sprawling to the ground in a scattering of gravel and dust. The sound of flesh being torn and the pained growls of the two half-shifted men filled the air.

“If you had given me a chance to finish…” My words were cut off by the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air, and I jerked to the side as a bullet grazed by my head, whistling as it passed me and found a different target.

There was a short bark of pain, and the ferocious battle shuddered to a halt. Byron fell away from his brother, the front of his shirt soaked with blood.

My heart stopped as his surprised eyes met mine and his hands went to his chest. Shouts and howls of anguish ripped the air, and I found myself moving forward without really thinking about what I was doing.

Byron’s gaze tore away from mine and latched onto his brother, who had dropped to his knees.

Ash’s gaunt face was completely human again and even more haggard now than when he’d first appeared on the porch.

My eyes fell to the bullet wound that had ripped through his abdomen beneath his left lung. The blood bubbled in the wound as Ash tried to speak, air wheezing past his lips and coating them in crimson flecks.

Ash started to fall forward, and I wrapped my arms around him to stop his fall. My hands were coated in warm blood that spread across his front and back, and I knew without a doubt that the bullet had exited.

I’d mistakenly thought the day couldn’t get any worse. But having the alpha werewolf of the local pack bleed out in my arms as his lung collapsed while his brother watched, his face a mask of horror, made me realise my mistake.

The day absolutely could get worse. And if the alpha died while we were surrounded by his pack…

Well, then the shit was well and truly going to hit the fan.

* * *

“You have to shift,” I said to Ash, cradling him against my body.

“Can’t,” he managed to wheeze out.

I pressed my knee into the wound in his back to apply as much pressure as possible.

“You’ve got to! It’s a through-and-through, and if you shift you will heal most of the damage. If you don’t…” I didn’t finish the sentence; I could already feel Death hovering on the wind, and each rattling breath Ash took brought him one step closer.

His eyes told me he knew the truth, but I could see that something was holding him back from shifting.

“Why won’t he shift, Byron? Tell him,” I said, urging him forward.

“If he shifts this close to the full moon, the force of it will bring on the change in the whole pack,” Byron said.

“So?”

“The change could kill some of the younger, weaker wolves,” he said, but it sounded suspiciously like an excuse to me.

“You’re an alpha!” I said in frustration. “Take the pack from him… Release him so he can save himself.”

“I gave up my right to the pack a long time ago. That cannot be undone.” His words sounded odd and rehearsed.

“Bullshit,” I said. “I might not be an expert on weres, Byron, but I know crap when I hear it.”

Ash didn’t give Byron a chance to respond, his breaths growing shallow as his colour started to change.

“He can’t... I am sick too… We will all die… If I shift, I will turn rogue.” The words left his lips in little gasps.

“Take the pack now, or he will die,” I ordered Byron.

“It will condemn them to the same sickness,” Byron said.

“If Ash is already sick, the pack has the disease anyway. You said yourself that it was spreading through the pack bonds. Look into his eyes, Byron, you can see it. And if he dies and they are without an alpha, they will be condemned.”

Any new alpha coming in would destroy most of the pack. Children born to the old alpha would be murdered, loyal men slaughtered, and women forced to submit. The weres’ way of life was old and complicated, and power was passed from father to child.

“Do it,” I said.

“No.” Ash’s voice was weak.

“He has to submit to me,” Byron said. “I can’t take the pack by force.”

That didn’t really surprise me. As far as I was concerned, the weres were an odd bunch.

“Take the pack…”

“No,” Ash growled.

Byron flung back his head and howled, the sound reverberating up through his body.

“Get the cure from my saddlebag,” I said through gritted teeth. Ash was far too stubborn for his own good, but I hadn’t come this far to watch it all collapse around us.

Without needing to be prompted, Byron darted away and returned a moment later with the cherry blossom box in his hands. He handed it to me, and I whispered the words of release against the lock. The box popped open, and the full vial of Lunn’s blood, plus the other half remaining from when I’d cured Idalina, stared up at me. Grabbing the full vial, I popped the cork and poured the blood into Ash’s mouth.

Lunn’s blood mingled with Ash’s into an indistinguishable mass of dark liquid. Ash coughed and shuddered, his body running hot and then cold.

“Is it enough?” Byron asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, staring around at the other wolves. They didn’t look as sick as they had a few moments ago, but they didn’t look cured either.

Air rushed out of Ash, and I felt his body shift beneath my hands, fur replacing skin, and between one moment and the next I found myself holding a huge wolf.

The wolf’s chest rose and fell unsteadily, and when I lifted my hand away from his fur it was still covered in blood.

He growled and rolled his feverish eyes up toward me.

“It’s not enough,” I said, forcing my words to come out measured. The least little trickle of tension could trigger the creature I was cradling.

“Give him the rest of it,” I said.

“Darcey…” Byron’s voice trailed off, and I chanced a look up at him. I knew what he was thinking. If we gave the blood to Ash, there wouldn’t be enough for Lucy. But if Ash got to his feet and the infection was allowed to spread through the rest of the pack, then everything we’d done so far was for nothing.

Byron crouched down next to me and grabbed the vial.

“I’ll do it,” I said, but he shook his head.

“No, if anyone is going to be the instrument of destruction for my daughter, it will be me.” He popped the cork and grabbed his brother by the throat. The wolf in my arms snarled wetly, and despite fighting against my hold he couldn’t break free of Byron’s grip.

Byron forced open his brother’s mouth and poured the remaining blood down his throat. A long breath shuddered out of him, and the wolf slipped away, the fur receding as Ash became human once more. He lay naked in my arms, his body beginning to shake violently as he went into shock. The blood oozing from the wound on his abdomen slowed, and I could no longer feel the wound on his back.

Byron stared down at his brother with naked concern. “He hasn’t healed completely,” he said, raising his panicked gaze to mine.

“He has, but not enough. He still needs medical attention, so we need to get him to a hospital.”

Byron shook his head as two males crossed the drive toward us with a stretcher. “No, Ash has a facility here on the farm. Hospitals are far too dangerous for weres.”

I stepped aside as they loaded him onto the stretcher and carried him toward what looked like a spacious barn.

“I didn’t mean to shoot him!” Michaela cried. “Oh God, I didn’t mean to hurt him!” I turned to find a third man dragging her up the driveway toward Byron.

She glanced at me and growled, struggling against the man’s grip.

“It was her!” She pointed at me, snarling. “I wanted to shoot her. She started all of this. If we did as Beast Mother said, then this would be over!” Her words collided into one another, making them hard to understand, but I was able to put the pieces together.

“Auriella,” I said to myself.

“How has she done this?” Byron asked. “How did she get to so many of the wolves without anyone realising?” He stared at the wolf on the ground, his expression unreadable.

“I think that’s a question for another time,” I said. “All we can do right now is ensure she doesn’t get to anyone else.”

Byron nodded and glanced at the house. “Before we go, I want to say goodbye to my daughter.”

“You’re not coming with me,” I said. “This is Faerie we’re talking about. Wolves don’t cross the veil, like it or lump it.”

Byron turned toward me, and I was suddenly very aware of just how close his wolf was to the surface. Michaela whimpered on the ground and fought to debase herself at his feet. Even the wolf holding her seemed more submissive.

“I will do what needs to be done to secure my daughter’s safety. If that means going places I’m not supposed to, then so be it.”

“I’m not trying to start a fight here,” I said. “I’m just stating facts. Wolves cannot cross. The law of Faerie forbids it, and if you try…” I trailed off. Not even I knew what would happen if he tried to cross the veil.

“I don’t care, I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

He growled and closed the gap between us, then stared down at me fiercely.

“You will not tell me what to do.”

“If you make this a fight, wolf, then we will both lose.” I dropped my voice to little more than a whisper.

He shook his head. I watched as he reined in his wolf, and from the way he clenched and unclenched his hands I knew I’d come damn close to losing my head.

“You will not leave me behind, Darcey. The risks I take are all my own.”

His voice held finality, and he turned from me and made his way to the house, leaving me to stare after him. My heart ached, and I wanted to simply turn tail and hide under the covers until the pain subsided, but I couldn’t. I’d seen the look in his eyes, a kind of madness that didn’t come from being sick. He would do anything for his daughter. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that he viewed the trip to Faerie as little more than a suicide mission, one that would secure a cure for his daughter.

A roar of pain and horror came from the house, and I was running toward it before I even had the chance to figure out what the hell it was. I burst through the front door, the gloom in the hall costing me precious seconds as my eyes fought to adjust to the low light.

Another howl, like that of a wounded animal, ripped through the house, but this time it was joined by others. I followed the pained cries to the doorway of a small bedroom at the top of the stairs.

Byron was on his knees, draped across the bed, howling. The bed was empty, the sheets rumpled and stained with blood.

“Where is she?” He turned to me with wild eyes.

“I don’t know,” I said, scanning the room for any kind of clue.

Byron launched himself across the room, slamming into me and knocking me out of the way as he half-ran, half-flung himself down the stairs and back out the front door.

By the time I caught my breath and followed him, I was already too late. Byron had shifted, and Michaela, the young woman who had shot Ash instead of me, was dead on the ground beneath his huge paws. Her throat had been ripped out, and her blood was splattered across the grey gravel, the two colours creating a stark contrast.

The guard who had been holding her was desperately trying to crawl away, his arm ripped up from shoulder to wrist. Byron had already zeroed in on him and was slowly creeping toward the man.

“Hey!” I shouted, drawing Byron’s attention in my direction. The moment I saw his eyes, my heart plummeted into my boots. But the fever soon disappeared, and Byron shifted back to his human form on the hard ground. He was covered in blood.

“Where is she?” he said again, lifting his gaze to mine.

“I don’t know, but I know where to start.”

There was only one place Lucy could be. One person, or thing, that could have taken her.

“Auriella?” Byron said, and I nodded. “What does she want with my daughter?”

“She plans to use her as the catalyst that destroys Lunn,” Noree said. I jumped in surprise and turned to find her standing near the house.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“The alpha is gravely injured, and I came to assist him in healing,” she said, and I was reminded of the way she had healed Byron after the rogue attack. She was clearly the powerful magic worker helping the wolves; I’d assumed they had hired a witch to silence the safe house, but now I knew it had been Noree all along.

“You’ve been working for them all this time?” I said.

Noree smiled. “Yes, my people have always had close bonds with the pricolici. They help me, I help them…” She trailed off.

“How do you know Auriella is going to use Lucy in the ritual to kill Lunn?” I asked.

“Because little Lucy is of both lines. Auriella and Lunn both created the shifters, but Lunn created the werewolves with a human. Lucy is different—she is shifter and were but also human at her heart.”

“She’s a hybrid,” I said, thinking of the half-banshee who had killed Clary.

“Yes, and that makes her both dangerous and vulnerable,” Noree said. “She cannot become the wolf that rages within her. She is also not ruled by the moon, but she has the strength and speed of both lines she carries in her blood. Drinking the blood of either were or shifter would determine which form she would take. If she drank the blood of neither, she would be forever human. She is all potential, and not yet formed.”

“But if Lunn drinks her blood, she will make him human,” I said, cold fear washing through me.

“Finally, you are catching up.” Noree smiled.

“You could have just said this from the beginning.” I glared at her.

“I did not know all of this in the beginning. The future is a tree with many branches, Darcey. You, more than any of us, should know that.”

Her words caused the chill within me to spread. Just how much did she know about me?

“You doubt my loyalty?” she asked.

“Always…”

My answer seemed to bring her great joy, and her laughter echoed off the buildings surrounding us.

“Then know this, Darcey Thorne—your fae friend is wrong. She believes Auriella will perform the ritual in Faerie, but I know this to be false. The ritual must be performed beneath the Huntress Moon in the human realm. That is the only way to guarantee that Lunn’s humanity will indeed kill him. And by my calculations”—she glanced up at the sky—“you will have to hurry if you plan to reach her in time.”

“Where is she?” I asked, following the direction of her gaze toward the rising moon.

“Go where the wolves gather under moon’s first kiss,” Noree said.

“And where the hell is that?” I asked in frustration.

“I know.” Byron’s voice was grim, and I turned to see him walking down the gravel drive toward the road, completely naked.

“You need clothes,” I called after him.

“Keep up if you can, harbinger,” he shouted back to me. “And if I go too far, kill me.” He shifted, fur pushing up through his skin as he leaped into the air before landing on all four paws. He spoke as though he hadn’t just asked me to kill him if he went rogue, as though he’d asked nothing more than if I wanted salt with my fries.

I caught his amber gaze as I ran after him, and I could see the feverish brightness that filled them was joined by something else—a determination to hold on long enough to see his daughter safe. And I would help him hold on. I would do whatever was necessary to ensure nobody else died because of Auriella’s scheming bitterness. If I had any say in it, then only one person would meet her end beneath the Huntress Moon.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Byron cut through the fields, his four-legged stride far longer than mine as I raced after him, struggling to keep pace.

He jumped fences and gates as though they weren’t even there, and I did my best to copy him. My time spent working with the Faerie Court, tracking down fae who did not want to be caught, certainly came in handy. But he still pulled ahead of me, his speed and manoeuvrability surprising considering his size.

The grassy earth began to slope upwards, and I could feel the pressure burning in my calves and thigh muscles as I tried to maintain my pace. The sky had darkened, but the moon hung low, casting an eerie, shimmering glow across everything in its path. Despite not having any ties to the moon, I could still feel the pull of its magic, which made for a heady sensation that spread down through my limbs.

Byron disappeared over the crest of the hill, causing the first flutterings of fear to stir in my gut.

When I reached the crest, my feet skidded to a halt in the grass and I stared out across the wide, open expanse of ground. The moon seemed closer here, hanging almost directly ahead of me, as though I could simply reach out and touch it. I glanced back over my shoulder to see just how far we had actually climbed and was surprised at how far below me the roads seemed to be.

Returning my attention to the scene spread out in front of me, I drew in a deep breath and slowly moved forward through the grass. It was longer up here, skimming the backs of my knees and in some places even reaching my thighs. The wild grass reminded me of Faerie, and a longing for the place I had been exiled from washed through me. The Court sometimes allowed me to return to Faerie if someone who needed to be caught had taken refuge behind the veil, but I was never able to truly enjoy my time there.

Byron moved through the long grass ahead of me toward a collection of standing stones reminiscent of Ireland’s ancient ring forts.

I jogged to catch up to Byron, and together we passed through the entrance to the stone circle. The grass was shorter in here, and I had the sudden urge to take off my boots and dig my toes into the lush, green carpet of it. Instead, I forced my attention back to the matter at hand; clearly, the magic that stirred on the air sought to distract anyone planning to disrupt the coming ritual.

Lunn stood with his back to a huge hunk of rock; the symbols carved on its surface looked suspiciously familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. It wasn’t until I got closer to him that I realised he was lashed to the rock with thick, vine-like ropes that bound his entire body, including his neck, forcing his head back against the rock.

He looked sick. His skin was leached of its usual golden glow, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. The veins in his neck stood out against his skin, the violet blood running through them appearing almost black in the moonlight. Lunn had always been so strong, with broad shoulders and a tall, muscular build, but now he looked smaller somehow, as though Auriella had discovered a way to make him shrink as well as lose his power.

I knew he was dying.

Despite the moonlight, I couldn’t quite make out the many dark objects embedded in his body.

As I moved closer, they became clear, but my brain still refused to comprehend the horror of what I was seeing.

Fear clenched around my heart. I wanted to run to him, to cross the space between us and drag him into my arms, to tear him away from whatever evil Auriella had inflicted upon him and return him to health.

But instead I tore my eyes from him and continued searching the clearing until I finally saw Lucy. She was huddled within a small silver cage that was partially hidden behind some of the larger rocks. She had curled her small body into a ball, as though the mere proximity of her delicate flesh to the silver was hurting her. Or perhaps she was simply frightened; she was, after all, just a child, an innocent. She didn’t deserve any of this, and yet somehow innocents were always the ones to suffer the most.

Byron spotted his daughter and bounded across the space toward her before I could open my mouth and warn him of the potential trap.

Auriella grinned as she stepped out from behind Lucy’s cage and whipped out her fist, striking Byron across his jaw and sending him hurtling backward through the air. The sound his body made as it slammed into one of the rocks, followed by his whimper of pain, told me he was hurt.

Grabbing the four iron throwing blades from my belt, I loosed them and darted toward Auriella. She managed to dodge three throws, but I was so close to her when I threw the fourth that it found its mark despite her attempts to outmanoeuvre me.

“Bitch,” she hissed, wrapping her hand around the iron blade and ripping it free of her side, a spray of violet blood splattering the ground at her feet.

“This is not sanctioned by the Court of Faerie, Auriella, and as their harbinger I command you to bring a halt to the proceedings and release your prisoners,” I said, circling slowly in an attempt to get between her and the silver cage.

Lucy was sobbing softly inside the cage, the sound tearing at my heart as I kept my eyes on Auriella.

“Or what?” she said, laughing in my face. “The Court has no authority here, which is why they send you, little harbinger, to do their dirty work.”

“Faerie’s reach is far greater than you think,” I said, slipping another blade from the sheath on my wrist.

“Is it? Then why aren’t they here themselves? They send you after wayward fools, but you and I both know that is not what I am. I’ve tasted you, harbinger. I’ve drank your blood from my claws and listened to you scream for mercy, day after day, as I punished you in the cells beneath Unseelie. I know what you are made of, and it is no match for the power I am.”

Her words stole the air from my lungs. I’d remembered Lunn being one of my jailers, but the other’s face had always eluded me. I remembered it in my nightmares, but it faded from my mind each time I woke. And the more I tried to focus on my tormentor’s features, the hazier they became. Faerie had stolen so much from me, leaving me to wander in the darkness, always wary and untrusting of every other fae who crossed my path. Always fearing I would never see the one who had marked me coming for my head.

My momentary shock was all the invitation Auriella needed, and she lunged toward me, taking us both to the ground. She pinned me beneath her, her strong, clawed hands wrapping around my neck as her face began to change, losing its human shape and taking on that of the beast that dwelled within her.

Lucy started to scream somewhere to my left, snapping me out of the shock that threatened to overwhelm my senses. I thrust the blade into Auriella’s side, twisting and forcing it in all the way to the hilt, but that didn’t stop what was happening above me.

Auriella’s face had become elongated, her nose stretched grotesquely outwards to form a muzzle, and her human teeth rained down around me as they were replaced by a mouth full of razor-sharp canines made for the ripping and tearing of flesh.

Her claws dug into me as her body grew heavier, and I ripped the blade free only to plunge it back into her side again. But where just moments before there had been skin, the blade now met with only thick, russet fur.

“No one will mourn for you, harbinger,” she said, the words garbled as they spilled from her animalistic face.

She clamped her jaws over my shoulder as I thrust my last iron blade under her ribcage. The force I used was enough to send both the blade and my fist up through her flesh, but the knife grated against bone and came to a jarring halt. I screamed, excruciating pain racing through my shoulder and neck as she attempted to shake me across the ground like a rag doll.

It took a few moments for the iron in the long, curved blade to go to work on her, but once it did she released her hold on me, rearing up on her hind legs as she swiped and swatted at the place where I had thrust in the blade.

She howled, an ear-piercing cry that brought tears to my eyes, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t reach the knife; every inch of it had been swallowed by her body, and all that remained was the small entrance wound.

Byron slammed into her, his jaws clamping around her throat as he rode her to the ground, snarling and growling in an attempt to rip her apart.

Sucking in a deep breath, I rolled onto my side, colour running in my vision like bright streamers and threatening to swallow me completely. I used my one good arm to drag myself through the short grass toward Lucy’s cage.

Byron roared in agony, and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears from blurring my vision further. Upon reaching Lucy’s cage, I slid the silver bolt across the door and dragged it open.

“Come on, we need to get you to safety,” I said, reaching out my good hand to her. But she shook her head and lifted her frightened dark eyes to stare at something just behind me.

A clawed hand wrapped around my ankle, the nails digging into my flesh, and crushed the bones in its punishing grip before Auriella dragged me away from the cage. She swung me up from the ground, only releasing her hold on me once I was airborne. I saw the standing stone rushing up to meet me and instinctively tried to raise my arms to protect myself, but only one responded. I hit the rock, and the world went dark.

* * *

“I thought banshees were tougher than this?” Auriella taunted, her face a mask of pleasure as she raked her clawed hand down my back, my flesh parting beneath her touch like butter through a hot knife.

I hung from the chains, my body limp, my mouth no longer able to scream from the pain she was inflicting upon me. What would be the point? Screaming only brought her pleasure anyway.

“Darcey, you have to wake up. You have to fight,” Byron said, his voice gruff and far away.

I jerked awake and raised my head up from the grass, pain reigniting in every inch of my flesh and lancing through me with such ferocity that I wanted to scream. Screaming only brought her pleasure anyway. The words came back to me in a wash of memories. The chains, the torture…it hadn’t been a dream. It was a memory of my time spent in Faerie as Auriella’s prisoner before the Faerie Court had passed judgment and turned me into their bounty hunter.

I bit back the scream, forcing it into the ball of rage that was building within me.

Turning my head, I caught sight of Byron. A lone tear tracked down his human cheek as he lay on his side. The angle of his body looked all wrong, but his eyes were still filled with determination.

“You have to stop her,” he said, his voice weak as blood flecked out on his lips.

Death hung in the air all around us, so close I could taste its bitterness on my tongue.

“Shift back,” I said, pushing up onto my knees.

“Can’t…” That one word took more effort than his previous ones. “Save her… for me.”

I glanced toward the cage, but it was empty. Auriella was holding Lucy by the hair in the centre of the circle directly in front of Lunn and the moon, which had now reached its highest point. I didn’t recognise the words she was chanting, but they felt old and full of power. The power of transformation.

“You’ll be fine,” I said to Byron. “I’ll get Lucy and Lunn, and we’ll get you fixed up… You just need to hold on.” I stumbled over the last three words as I fought back tears.

He was dying. I could feel it as surely as I could feel the air on my face and the grass beneath my fingers. He was dying, and it was my job to comfort him, to mourn for him as he passed. But…

Glancing back toward Auriella and Lucy, I knew I wouldn’t have time to do it all. This was the choice the Between had warned me of. I’d thought it was the decision to cure the pack instead of Lucy, but I’d been wrong. The choice was this, here and now. Did I stay here with Byron, do my duty, and bring him his peace? Or did I walk away and risk my very essence to save his daughter and Lunn?

“You just hold on,” I said. “Everything will be fine.”

“I thought… fae couldn’t… lie,” he said, smiling at me as I climbed to my feet, the pain in my torn shoulder only a distant ache to the sundering of my heart.

With my good hand, I grabbed the sword strapped to my back and pulled it free with a whisper of metal on leather as I crossed the grass toward Auriella and Lucy.

Lunn’s eyes, filled with sorrow, met mine. Without thinking, I thrust the blade through Auriella’s back, just below where I imagined her heart would be. She screamed and released Lucy, and I struggled to draw the blade up through her body.

Jerking away from me, the sword still jutting out of her back, she swung around to face me.

“You will die for this,” she cried, lunging toward me and reaching for my throat.

“Perhaps,” I said, “but not for the reasons you think.” We stood inside a stone circle, a place of between, and the ‘tween places belonged to the harbingers. Auriella closed her clawed hand on my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut and thought of Faerie.

The between places were always just a heartbeat from Faerie for a banshee, and whether my power was withered or not, I could still use them to travel there. Of course, the energy it took to do so would act like a beacon to the Court, and they would know what I had done as soon as I crossed the veil. If Auriella didn’t kill me, then the Court definitely would for defying its rule and entering Faerie without invitation.

Auriella stumbled, dragging me with her as her brain caught up with her body. “What have you done?” she said, staring around at the lush forestry surrounding us.

The stone circle was gone, and Lunn, Lucy, and Byron were nowhere to be seen. They were still in the human realm.

I drew in the scent of Faerie and used Auriella’s momentary distraction to draw the Bone Blade and plunge it into her chest.

Her skin blanched as she released her hold on me and took a few steps back. She reached down and gripped the Bone Blade with her clawed hands, attempting to pull it free.

“I charge you with the deaths of humans and werewolves, Auriella, Mother of the Hunt and Beast Mother,” I said. “I charge you with the attempted murder of one of our own. You have fae blood on your hands, and I condemn you to Faerie’s own justice.” I dropped to my knees as the combination of blood loss and pain finally overcame me.

“You can’t do this,” she said, panic filling her voice. “You don’t have the power or the authority.”

“I think you’ll find that, as the Court’s enforcer, I do. But more than that, as Faerie’s own harbinger, I have the right.”

“I only wanted him to hurt the way he hurt me,” she cried out. “Do you know what it’s like to have the only man you’ve ever loved break your heart? To watch him fall for another, have children with her, and then love them more than the children you shared with him?”

I shook my head. “No. But Lunn’s betrayal of you doesn’t make your actions right.”

Auriella screamed as the ground beneath her feet began to shake. Vines snaked upward, wrapping around her wrists and legs, tugging them in four different directions. She shifted back to her human shape and struggled against the vines, and then rapidly returned to her beastly shape. The changes came faster and faster until my eyes could no longer keep up.

The air was split with what sounded like a crack of thunder, and Auriella was hoisted into the air as her magic was ripped from her body. It came away like a violet web, the shape of her beast trapped inside it as she struggled to keep her power. But Faerie would not be denied its vengeance.

She screamed, and the earth erupted around her, the vines drawing her down until the ground swallowed her completely. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but it hadn’t been for Faerie to swallow her whole and take the Bone Blade with her. Crawling forward, I searched through the dirt but saw nothing, not even a trace of her presence. The Bone Blade was nowhere to be found.

“Darcey!” Idalina called out, and I twisted around to see her making her way through the trees. “Where the hell were you and…” Her eyes raked over me. “Oh sweet goddess, what happened?”

Closing my eyes, I swallowed back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me. When I opened them again, she was crouched down next to me.

“Auriella’s dead… at least I think she is. I can’t be certain, because Faerie seems to have swallowed her.”

Idalina stared at me with wide eyes. “Faerie swallowed her?” She searched my face, probably looking for signs that I had lost my marbles.

“I condemned her to Faerie’s judgment, and then all this weird shit happened,” I said. “It ripped the magic out of her and then…” I stared down at the spot on the ground.

“Remind me never to piss Faerie off,” she said, glancing nervously down at the dirt as though worried it would suck her down too.

“Can you get us out of here?”

Idalina nodded. “Can you walk?”

“With some help, yeah.”

She took my good arm and carefully draped it over her shoulder before helping me to my feet.

“Can I borrow your jacket?” I was beginning to shiver, probably from the shock of everything that had happened. And, fae or not, I was still more than capable of experiencing trauma.

Idalina slipped out of her black denim jacket and draped it over the shoulder of my injured arm. Simply feeling the fabric resting against my skin was enough to cause gruelling pain.

“You sure you’re good?” she asked.

I nodded despite the pain and glanced back down at the ground. Auriella had deserved everything she’d gotten, and maybe even more, but that was Faerie’s decision.

“Yeah, I’m good. We need to get back to Lunn.”

Without another word, Idalina started forward. I let her half-drag, half-walk me out of Faerie, leaving Auriella to whatever fate had in store for her.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Crossing through the veil was far more painful Idalina’s way, but it also required no outlay of power on my behalf, so pain it was.

We emerged back into the human realm on the opposite side of the stone circle, and it took me a few moments to reacquaint myself with everything. Lunn was no longer pinned to the towering stone at the centre of the circle, and the moon had moved from its peak position.

The time difference between the human realm and Faerie was always a little disorientating. I spotted Lunn on his knees next to Lucy, and a bunch of other weres, some still in human form, huddled around something. My heart sank. I knew what they were huddled around—or rather, who.

I’d deserted Byron during his hour of need, but I’d had good reason for doing it. Of course, that didn’t lessen my guilt.

Pulling out of Idalina’s grip, I hobbled toward the group as fast as my aching bones would allow. The wolves blocking my view parted, giving me full view of Byron lying on the ground, his unseeing eyes staring up at the moonlit night sky.

My knees buckled beneath me and the earth rushed upwards as I crumpled to the ground. I’d been expecting it. I’d known he was dying. Yet I still felt like someone had sucker-punched me in the gut.

Reaching out toward him, I brushed the lock of silvery hair back from his face.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice cracking as my throat became blocked with unshed tears. “I’m so goddamned sorry…” The words were woefully inadequate given just how broken I felt, but there was nothing else I could say. Nothing I could do.

“Holy shit,” someone muttered from behind me, but I didn’t bother to glance back. What did it matter? Tears started to course down my face as a sob built in the back of my throat.

Someone gently touched my shoulder, and I turned and looked into the face of the little girl I’d seen crouched in my bedroom a couple of nights ago. It was Clary, and yet it wasn’t. I could see straight through her to the others gathered around Byron’s body. The wolves looked on with huge, staring eyes, and one of them actually growled, the fur on his ruff standing to attention.

They thought she was a ghost.

But I knew better. It was no ghost. The little girl looked like Clary, but that was simply the form it was taking for my benefit, to comfort me. It wasn’t a spirit, either. What stared down at me in the form of a child was the essence of Faerie itself.

She brushed her fingertips against my cheek to wipe my tears, and when she lifted them away a large black orb sat in her hand. Without a word, she placed the swirling black ball into my palm and squeezed my fingers so tightly around it that I bit down on my tongue to stifle the pain. The little girl released me, and I stared down at the swirling mass only to find it gripped in skeleton fingers. My own fingers were still there, but I couldn’t shake the feeling she’d crafted the orb from my own bones… Was this how the Bone Blades had been created? Had Faerie helped the first banshee fashion them from her own bones?

“Just this once,” Faerie said, reaching down to caress Byron’s face with its ethereal fingers.

He started, his body bowing upwards as he sucked in a deep breath and his eyes widened in surprise. The moment he took a breath, Faerie disappeared, leaving behind only the faintest scent of blossoms.

Byron gasped, struggling to draw breath into his injured body. Faerie had brought him back from Death’s grasp, but she hadn’t healed him. If we didn’t get him help soon, then everything Faerie had done would be for nothing.

“Byron, you need to shift,” I urged, leaning over him as he rolled his eyes toward mine. Too much white was showing, and from the tinge of blue around his lips I knew the air he was drawing in wasn’t reaching his lungs.

“Can’t,” he gasped, his body bowing upwards once more as if he was in terrible pain.

“I can help,” Lunn said, moving closer to Byron. He gave me a small, sideways look before gripping Byron’s chin with his fingers and forcing the other man to meet his gaze.

Byron struggled, and I balled my hands into fists, digging my nails into the flesh of my palms as I watched Lunn work. The moment Byron went still, I felt all the air leave my body, my shoulders sagging as I watched the twitching of his limbs fade.

We’d failed.

Byron’s body shuddered as he noiselessly slipped his skin, his fur now flowing freely. His thick, silvery fur was unmoving for a few moments, but then the wolf drew several large, shuddering breaths, his chest rising and falling.

And just like Ash, Byron shifted back to human. When he met my gaze this time, I could see Byron in there instead of the sickness.

“He’s healed?” I said.

“The infection ran its course,” Lunn said wearily. “He died, and once his body failed, the sickness was done.”

It didn’t sound like a particularly plausible answer, but then I’d come to the conclusion that, where magic was concerned, plausibility didn’t really play any part in it whatsoever.

Leaning over Byron, I smiled down at him and said, “See? I told you the fae don’t lie.”

He grinned and struggled to sit up before wincing and lying back down on the grass. “I think I’ll just stay like this until the world stops spinning,” he said hoarsely.

“You do that.” I moved out of the way as Lucy curled up beside her father and wrapped her arms around him. I could hear her mumbling to him, and Byron shifted his arm and drew her closer to his chest.

Pushing up onto my feet, I watched the two of them interact before I turned away. The colour was slowly beginning to leach out of the world around me, and I only had a moment to wonder just how badly I was hurt before Lunn caught my arm. He looked much better than he had when he was lashed to the rock; the colour had returned to his cheeks, and he no longer appeared withered and weak. In fact, I thought as I looked him up and down, taking in his ripped jeans, he almost looked like the Lunn I knew.

“Where is Auriella?” he asked, his grip the only thing keeping me upright.

“Dead, I think. Faerie took her.”

Lunn nodded and cupped my cheek with his hand. “I thought she had killed you.”

“I thought she had too,” I said with a laugh that I quickly stifled as pain muddied my brain. Obviously, the adrenalin was wearing off, and when that happened… well, I could only hope I would be lying down.

“She told me she had killed you,” Lunn insisted. “She said that she’d found you with MacNa, that she’d ripped out your heart, but I didn’t want to believe her. I knew she wouldn’t be able to kill someone like you. But when she brought me your Bone Blade…” Lunn trailed off, and I stared at him in surprise.

“She brought you a Bone Blade?”

“Yeah, she said she’d taken it from you after killing you. When I saw that, I think I kind of gave up.”

“That’s when the sickness really started to spread,” I said, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Shit, Darcey, how hurt are you?” He reached out to brush my hair back from my shoulder. I was wearing a black shirt, making it almost impossible to tell just how much blood I’d lost, but when he pushed Idalina’s jacket back off my shoulder and saw the damage, he swore in English, Gaelic, and Fae, something I’d never heard him do before.

“Looks that good, eh?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light but failing miserably.

“We need to get you to someone who can heal you,” he said.

The world tilted suddenly and grew grey at the edges. “I’m not sure how to tell you this,” I said, leaning on him a little more than I usually would.

“What?” he asked, concern etched into his face.

“I don’t know if I’m going to barf on you, pass out, or perhaps both…”

The ground beneath my feet shifted again, and my vision filled with sparkling lights that fizzed and popped. That feeling alone was enough to cause bile to race up the back of my throat.

“I think both,” I said as my stomach dropped down into my boots like I was on a rollercoaster.

My vision went black. Suddenly, I was falling.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“How long do I have to keep drinking this crap for?” I called out, glowering at the small bottle of dark liquid on the kitchen counter.

“Until Noree says you’re all clear,” Samira answered from her side of the apartment.

We’d knocked the wall through to the adjacent apartment, giving us more space to move about rather than be in each other’s hair all the time. But it allowed Samira to remain under my protection, at least until I was satisfied the witch hunters were done with her. The fact that they hadn’t come after her was merely a bonus, but I had a feeling that creeps like them had long memories and would come knocking sooner rather than later.

When I say we had knocked through to the other apartment, I meant Byron and Lunn did the dirty work. The two had become allies of sorts, or that’s what I was hoping for. They at least seemed to tolerate each other for the sake of keeping the peace around me.

Lunn had a weird sense of honour and felt as though he owed me a debt for saving his life. No amount of telling him otherwise seemed to make a difference.

And Byron… Well, Byron was attempting to win back my trust. Plus, he felt the same debt of gratitude. Which was ridiculous, because I hadn’t been the one to bring him back. As far as I was concerned, everything that had happened belonged in the past, and I just wanted to put it all behind me and get back to work.

“And just when will Noree say I’m all clear again?” I asked.

“Just drink the damn thing,” Samira said, appearing in the kitchen doorway a moment later.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to drink this stuff,” I said, scooping up the bottle and popping the cork. The fetid smell of feet and swamp juice wafted up to my nose, causing me to gag. Turning the bottle on its head, I swallowed down the contents as quickly as the gelatinous liquid would allow.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” she said, turning away and grabbing her handbag from the counter.

“Where are you off to?” I asked.

“Emily and Tim invited me around for a horror movie marathon,” she said. “We’re doing all the classics. At least, they say they’re classics. I haven’t heard of half of them.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” I asked.

“Keep on recuperating?” she suggested with a wide grin.

It was totally the wrong thing to say, and she knew it. I’d spent the past two weeks ‘recuperating,’ and I was bored out of my mind. Granted, the first three days after Auriella’s disappearance into Faerie had been a whirlwind of delirium and terror that I didn’t fully remember. Lunn, however, had taken great pains to remind me that I had, in fact, vomited all over his boots, which I was surprised and disappointed not to remember, mostly because I hadn’t been able to see the expression on his face directly after it had happened. Auriella’s bite had poisoned me, and if not for the Noree’s ability to draw the toxin out of my body, then I would have bitten the bullet.

Noree was concerned with how slowly I was healing, though. She was still worried about Mannan’s hold on me, fearing that he was somehow reaching for me beyond the cage, and so insisted I take the swamp tonic. She’d said it would fortify my own personal psychic wards, and for that I was grateful. Still didn’t mean I couldn’t grumble about having to drink the stuff, though.

But I had regained movement in my shoulder and arm, and the worst of the scars had healed, leaving me with only the slightest twinges when I used my throwing blades. So really, everything was coming up roses…

Except for the pact with the vampires…

And my missing Bone Blade…

And the fact that the Between still hadn’t let me back in…

But I’d learned that you needed to take the win when you got it, and I was certainly willing to consider stopping Auriella a win.

Yup, everything was coming up roses. I just hoped it stayed that way.

Acknowledgments

Thanks goes to Tracy Carroll for thinking up the fantastic name, ‘Havoc’, for Darcey’s kitten.

Personally, I think it fits perfectly. Here’s to hoping she will live up to her name.

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