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Pulling raw magic up from the anima mundi, in the amount of power they would need for a missile of this size, was not possible without something like the Control Tower. Not even cristala charging stations would work, as those used filtered magic, not raw.

But, with everyone in their group taking turns powering the warhead, it would become a weapon strong enough to take down the Control Tower.

Blue had blue magic.

Raina had white magic.

Malakai and Travis had black magic.

Charlotte had purple magic.

Magenta had pink magic.

And Maya…she had red.

It wasn’t every color. But it was enough.

Maya’s turn would have to wait until the end, though. She had still not fully recovered from falling into the canal, so everyone else would take turns charging first. The amount of magic it would take would require recovery periods for each person, but as long as they took turns, the warhead should be fully charged by the second day.

Just in time to get the Control Tower down and get the hell out of here.

100

Heaven’s Gate

ANGELTHENE, STATE OF WITHEREDGE

The next daypassed too quickly, each tick of the clock a sword hanging above their heads. Arthur spent most of that time on the phone, instructing those who were trapped in Yveswich on how to go about dismantling the missile and charging the warhead.

By the time evening rolled around, a deeper sense of foreboding had settled over Heaven’s Gate. Loren stood in the dark foyer, unable to tear her eyes off Darien as he tightened the straps on her bulletproof vest. Of course, she was the only person wearing body armor. The others didn’t have to.

A lock of jet black hair hung in Darien’s eyes, the end fluttering with every calm exhalation. She fought the urge to reach up and smooth it back. Run her fingers through his hair. Pull him down to her level and kiss him.

Jack, Ivy, Lace, and Tanner were in here too, lacing up their boots and strapping guns and knives onto their bodies. Preparing for a very personal vendetta. Their Familiars—Bandit, too—stood by the door in a small army of their own, their eyes glowing in the dark like varicolored fireflies. Moonlight trickled in through the big windows, causing the ornate chandelier to glimmer like an ice sculpture.

Calm. Everybody was calm, focused. Even Twitch, who was usually too rambunctious to sit still, was silent and observant. Though there was a nervous tic around the jaguar’s left eye, one that never fully went away.

As Darien tightened the last strap on the vest, those striking eyes of his flicked up to meet hers. “How does that feel?” he asked her, his bass voice echoing in the large, open area.

She rolled her shoulders and rotated her arms. “It’s a little snug, but I think it’s good.”

He gripped two of the straps and pulled her toward him, so quickly she bumped into his chest with a muffled squeak of alarm. “I wish I was taking this off of you instead,” he breathed against her mouth. Her body warmed as he nipped at her bottom lip.

Jack said, “I feel like I just walked onto the set of some squirrelly porno.”

Tanner stifled a laugh.

Loren fought a smile as well—one that Darien was soon mirroring. She felt the shape of that smile against her lips as he bent to kiss her, his hands still wrapped possessively around the straps of her vest. That vest was a precaution he’d insisted on taking, and one she’d agreed to without argument. The last thing she wanted was for Darien to use his magic any more than he needed to, especially with how many hours he’d have to spend tracking tomorrow.

She tried not to think about that—about the missiles that were scheduled to strike Yveswich in less than thirty hours—and instead focused on the feel of Darien’s mouth on hers.

When he broke the kiss—too soon, as always—she was out of breath.

He let go of the straps and skimmed the edge of her jaw with a scarred knuckle affectionately.

Then he turned his focus on his family. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready,” they murmured.