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The candlelight flickered against ancient stone walls of Kettering Castle, illuminating shelves lined with arcane tomes and vials of dark liquid. The place fairly groaned under the weight of its ancient secrets and the current owner’s dark use of the fortress that had stood for centuries.

Armando Salazar moved through the dim chamber with the grace of a predator, his fingers trailing over relics older than most civilizations.

He paused to sit before a table on which he’d set up a shallow silver bowl holding an enormous amount of mercury.

The mirror of liquid metal swirled with agitation as the spell Salazar had set on it came to life under his power.

He watched the events of the day before unfold on a distant continent with great interest. As he scried the action at the estate on Long Island and the failure of one of his most promising acolytes, he frowned, but otherwise kept his reaction from showing.

Almost idly, he traced one finger over the blood-red gem embedded in his ring.

Its surface pulsed faintly, as if alive.

It calmed him, allowing him to show a very different image to the world than the seething anger that pulsed in his soul.

This gem was his. The first he had ever received.

It was old. Older than himself, which was saying something.

And it was imbued with the power of all the dark wizards that had owned it before him, reaching back to the dawn of time.

It was because of this gem that he’d sought out the knowledge of how to craft more like it, though only time and centuries of blood and death could cause a carved gem to become as powerful as this one.

He petted it, secure in the knowledge that it was his and his alone, and nobody else understood its real power.

“She failed,” Kettering spat, coming up behind Salazar, distracting him from the contemplation of his ring.

The young owner of the castle was a pawn, but a valuable one, which was why Salazar had partnered with him.

Even if he was sometimes a pain in the ass.

“They killed her.” Kettering’s voice grated, full of petulant anger.

Salazar didn’t bother to look up from the scrying bowl where the last echoes of the female mage’s demise still rippled across the water’s surface.

“As expected,” Salazar replied, his voice smooth as silk, laced with centuries of patience. “That was her purpose.”

Kettering bristled. “I thought her purpose was to eliminate the girl and tie up loose ends. We’ve lost a valuable asset.”

“No,” Salazar corrected smoothly. “We’ve gained insight into our enemy.”

“Insight,” Kettering’s voice sounded in a petulant sneer. Salazar finally raised his gaze, dark eyes gleaming with something far older—and far more dangerous—than Kettering could comprehend.

“Every pawn has its role, Abdul. Now, we know their strengths…and their weaknesses.”

He waved a hand over the scrying bowl. An image shimmered to life of Zeke and Celine walking along the shoreline, oblivious to the eyes watching them through magical means. Salazar’s lips curved into a predatory smile.

“The soldier and the selkie,” Salazar mused. “Such fragile creatures…yet fate favored them today.”

“We won’t be able to get to her now that she’s got one of those djinn-touched men guarding her,” Kettering said, watching the couple whose image was hazy on a distant beach.

“We don’t need to get her any longer. She’s fulfilled her purpose.

She led us to her grandfather, and through him to the secret island base where the shifter soldiers have gathered.

As a bonus, we now know more about the djinn-blessed men and where they’ve been hiding as well.

Two birds with one stone, and soon, I think, they’ll all be scattering.

They may have won the battle with our single mage and a few mercenary scum, but we’ve managed to disrupt their entire operation.

They’ll have to move and regroup somewhere else.

That will all take time. Time which we can use to our advantage, if we’re smart. ”

Losing the promising young mage had hurt, but Salazar wouldn’t let Kettering know that.

Salazar wanted his erstwhile ally to think that he found his minions interchangeable and expendable.

It kept them on their toes and might actually make Abdul a little easier to handle if he feared being sacrificed for the greater plan.

Salazar could hope. So far, Abdul had been more unstable mentally than Salazar had expected.

He was a loose cannon and needed constant reining in.

But he, too, could serve his purpose. If Salazar managed him well and used him properly.

“Let them celebrate their small victory. The true game is only just beginning,” Salazar went on, waving the scrying bowl to stillness and letting the image fade.

“What’s your next move?” Kettering’s impatience crackled through the air. Apparently, he hadn’t been subdued. Well, Salazar would have to continue to work on that. He needed to have control over Kettering, not the other way around.

“We let them believe they’ve won,” Salazar said, his voice a silken threat. “And when they begin to hope…we remind them that the past is never truly buried.” He lifted a newly carved ruby from the table, its depths swirling with malevolent power.

“Let the games begin.”

Kettering’s mood seemed to shift like the quicksilver in the bowl. He cackled, sounding completely unhinged. Salazar hid his inner wince. The boy really needed to get a grip on his outbursts. Still, he was a good foil for the real brains of the operation. Salazar, of course.

“Contact the second apprentice,” he ordered. “It’s time to unleash something…more entertaining.”

Kettering hesitated. “And the djinn-blessed Green Berets?”

Salazar chuckled, low and ominous. “They’ll wish they’d died in Babylon.”

The candles flickered violently, then extinguished, leaving only darkness…and the faint, malevolent glow of the ruby. The chamber darkened as the magic flared, and the future of light and shadow hung in the balance.

*

Two days later in Wyoming

Zeke and the unit were settling in to guest cabins on the side of the Wraiths’ mountain in Wyoming better than he’d expected.

Surprisingly, some of the guys had worked with quite a few of the Wraiths when they were still employed by Uncle Sam.

Nobody had realized they were shifters then, of course, and it was strange to learn that the comrades they’d met in foreign lands on dangerous missions had been werewolves, cougar shifters, bear shifters, and the like, all along.

The majority of people on the mountain were werewolves because Major Jesse Moore and his brother, Jason, were Alphas of the Wraiths and the Wyoming Wolf Pack, respectively.

The Wraiths had claimed the top of the mountain while the rest of the larger Pack was arrayed around the lower elevations.

But the Wraiths had attracted all sorts of ex-military shifters to their ranks, and quite a few of them were settling into family life with wives and children.

That surprised him. They were still fighters who went on missions as an elite mercenary unit, but they had this safe place hidden away on a mountaintop in Wyoming to come home to.

Families, children running around, beautiful scenery, and they were building a real community here with homes that blended into the scenery, dotted around the top of the mountain.

If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he doubted anybody would know that such a large group was living here.

Not even with access to satellite imagery.

These shifters were really good at stealth, and they seemed to take it into account in every facet of their lives, including how they built their homes.

It was freaking brilliant, Zeke thought. He had to admire the way they had blended their homes into the natural wonder of the mountain and forest all around them. It was downright magical.

It took a day to settle into their new quarters and get the lay of the land, including meetings with the command chain of the Wraiths.

The unit had been briefed by Major Moore and his lieutenants, and they’d met the other soldiers, their wives and some of the children at a big dinner celebration hosted in what they called the Pack house, later that first night.

The atmosphere had been welcoming and celebratory.

There’d also been a little bit of hesitation as people got to know each other.

A lot of that dropped by the wayside the next day when Hal arranged for a small demonstration of each of the Green Beret’s new magical abilities.

A petite woman with elfin beauty and intense features had been invited to watch the demonstration as well, making Zeke want to scratch his head in confusion.

She sat on the edge of the small crowd and just watched while the guys were put through their paces.

Zeke couldn’t figure what she was all about.

She didn’t look sturdy enough to be one of the shifters, but she seemed to have magic about her, though Zeke couldn’t really explain why he thought so.

At one point, she caught him staring at her, and she grinned back and winked.

He hadn’t expected that. He turned away, still confused by her presence, but then, it was his turn, and he had to put on a show for the new guys, so they could understand a little better what he could do.

Lynn, who had moved to Wyoming with them, presented Zeke with a small cotton drawstring pouch. He shot her a look, questioning with his eyes. He learned enough from her by now to know that she often stored magical objects in bags like this, made of natural fibers.