Page 15

Lach

W e were late as sin by the time we strode into the Avalon ’ s largest conference room. An eclectic collection of creatures was gathered around the grouped conference tables, each coven having brought four or five representatives, and every single one of them looked like they were contemplating murder. Namely, my murder. But what was new? Even my mate had it out for me.

I pushed the thought from my mind. I couldn’t afford to be worrying about shit like that in a room full of the most powerful, and therefore dangerous, creatures in New Orleans.

Each coven had self-divided among the others’ tables. On the right, the devout witches of the Second Parish Coven who made their home in the city’s affluent Garden District glared across the table at the familiars and vampires who comprised most of the First Parish Coven and controlled the French Quarter as a result. On the far side of the room, the werewolf contingent from Third Parish looked bored to find themselves stuck in another meeting. As a rule, the pack resisted being dragged into the constant political battles of the other parishes, and since their magic couldn’t be used for spellcasting, they were only here in case a vote was called—a rare occurrence when I was in the room.

All in all, there was no love lost between any of the bickering factions present. Anytime we walked away from a meeting without bloodshed was a small mercy.

Romy and Fiona had already left for the Astral Court, which was probably for the best. My sister seemed to prefer collecting enemies to making friends.

Roark claimed a seat to the side of the table, leaving me the central one. The one my sister should be occupying as acting heir. The memento mori burned on the back of my neck like a reminder that a throne was no place for a dead man.

“Think we should do an icebreaker?” I muttered to my penumbra. His soft laugh was more of a sigh as I gripped the back of the chair. I remained standing, surveying the room, waiting for any lingering conversation to die. “If we could settle down…”

Setting off a bomb would have been less destructive.

“Settle down?” Corinne, a familiar from First Parish, shot from her seat, her red hair whipping around her shoulders. “We are burning through our magic for you, and the first thing you say is to settle down ? That spell caused a magical outage for all of us, but we should just fall in line, right?”

Murmurs rippled through the room, associates from every coven nodding. The tension was palpable, hanging like a dark cloud over the space. How had Ciara convinced any of them to work together long enough to raise the bona fides spell?

Corinne continued, her voice going higher with each syllable. “We are being dragged into a fight over fae laws. This has nothing to do with us, but if you can’t—”

I raised a hand to stop her before she burst a blood vessel. “Poor choice of words.” I paused, weighing my next statement. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure the outage was a fluke.”

The room exploded. Half the people present were on their feet, and everyone was shouting. At me. At each other.

Okay, so that was also the wrong thing to say.

A reed-thin witch rose and pointed a finger across the room, looking down his beakish nose at the werewolves gathered there. Ambrose, one of the elders of Second Parish, never failed to make his disdain for other covens known. “What about the rougarou? We’re trapped in the city, and they’re letting their mutts loose.”

Taran’s lip curled, a low snarl rumbling from his chest. It wasn’t wise to offend the leader of the Third Parish pack. The broadness of his chest and shoulders belied his true nature. Even in his human form, he could rip most of the people here limb from limb.

As accusations continued to fly, my temples throbbed.

The only thing keeping Corinne from coming over the table was étienne, a vampire elder, holding her back. His dark hair fell across his eyes, shielding his face, but I could tell by the muscle twitching in his strong jawline that he was rapidly losing his patience with the situation. The female vampire to his right met my eyes and smirked as she tossed a glossy, platinum curl over her shoulder. Baptiste was one of the few not screaming. Which was strange, since yelling at me was usually one of her favorite hobbies. Their third, a younger vampire I’d never met, sat quietly at Baptiste’s side. He was unusually scruffy for his species. Between the thick stubble shadowing his face and his shaggy brown haircut, he looked like he might fit in better with the werewolves. But the pitch blackness of his eyes suggested his silence was the result of reining in blood rage, not disinterest.

We needed to lock shit down. Now.

I glanced at Roark and found his head drooping in resignation, propped up by a single finger pressed between his eyes.

Sighing, I sent shadows to swallow the room, smothering every light. The arguments died, snuffed out by the darkness. When the room had fallen silent, I raised my voice. “Perhaps someone could explain why we’re all panicking.”

“Turn the lights on, please,” someone called in a small voice.

I allowed a crack of it through the darkness, enough to test the waters. When they all behaved, I sent the shadows back to the corners of the room.

“The outage may be a harbinger that the goddess is displeased with the bona fides spell,” one of the devout beside Ambrose said.

The whispers began again, half the room agreeing with her, the other rolling their eyes.

“And a rougarou is a bad omen.” Corinne’s voice sliced through the growing tumult, sharp as a razor and directed at me. “Even the wolves can agree on that. If our magic is overtaxed, we can’t protect ourselves.”

A cold surge of dread trickled through me. But it would be suicide to show even a hint of weakness. And it wouldn’t be the first time the familiar had exaggerated a situation. I sat instead, stretching my arms behind my head and frowning. “Overtaxed? Is that how it works for you? Fae magic must have better stamina.”

Roark cleared his throat. A warning.

“A bona fides spell of this complexity can be quite draining,” Baptiste said before Corinne could respond. “Perhaps you could do better, Lachlan.”

“The prince”—the way Roark said it sounded more like the dick next to me —“is just trying to understand what happened.”

Baptiste raised her brows, looking directly at me. “Is that so?”

I glanced at the others assembled in the room. “What do the rest of you think?”

If Corinne was right, if the spell couldn’t be maintained, Roark and my sister would find themselves in charge of this mess sooner rather than later, and things didn’t appear to be working out between the two of them. No wonder he was smoothing things over. The creatures of New Orleans were usually at one another’s throats, but things had gotten to another level.

Ambrose sneered at Corinne, his disdain for her etched in every line of his face. “You can’t expect a familiar to have faith in true magic. The goddess abandoned them when they whored themselves to vampires.”

But a witch I didn’t know from his side of the table spoke up. “A spell I was working on for a client failed. A simple outage wouldn’t have caused that.”

He glared down at the betrayal. “Maybe you screwed it up.”

“I didn’t.” The witch sounded weary. “I’ve performed that spell a dozen times.”

Whispers snaked through the room, and I gripped the table’s edge, prepared to send another wave of shadows to silence the inevitable argument.

“Every meeting is like this,” Roark whispered beside me, his lips barely moving. It was a gods-damned miracle they’d managed the spell at all.

My hand twitched toward my suit jacket and the holster concealed beneath. One gunshot might solve a lot of problems. If only I could decide whether it should be a warning shot or an object lesson.

Before I could make the call, étienne stood, slamming his fist on the table. “Enough!” The vampire looked my age, but he had hundreds of years on me. He’d worked with my father, and I got the impression he felt the need to look out for me. “We all pledged our loyalty to the Gage family.”

“We were forced to,” Ambrose said bitterly. “There was no choice when we voted to put that spell into place.”

“No,” étienne challenged him. “Long before the spell, all our bloodlines came to New Orleans because it promised access to magic when we lost ours. When other creatures suffered, we thrived. Perhaps it is easier for some of us to forget that. They did not command our allegiance. We owed it to them.”

The tense silence continued as he settled into his seat, and I seized the opportunity. “You are all welcome to leave New Orleans if you choose,” I said, letting the undercurrent of threat slip through. “But don’t come back.”

Roark glared next to me, backing up the threat. The bona fides spell hinged on everyone’s cooperation. But I also knew these were literally creatures of habit, too entrenched in their own lives to abandon their homes to prove a point.

Silence stretched for a moment before Baptiste tapped the table. “It’s not only the spell stirring our people’s anxieties,” she said, shooting me a pointed look. “It’s the sudden lack of clover. They feel trapped. Perhaps if there was a way to escape…”

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Leave it to Baptiste to stir the pot.

My decision to halt the supply of clover didn’t sit well with everyone, but the drug had become far less recreational after Oberon introduced a deadly taint to the supply. Now New Orleans was without its preferred vice for the first time in over a century.

I leaned forward, locking eyes with her. “Stick to the restaurant business, Baptiste,” I said, dismissing her ploy with a casual flick of my hand.

“Our opium dens could provide a sanctuary in this time of need. Rumor is that even your people need relief.” Her smile was sweet, but I knew from experience that it was a trap. “Or are the rumors true? That your human objects to such vices?”

Shadows curled around my fingertips. I hadn’t summoned them, but I didn’t dismiss them, either. Instead, I scanned the room slowly, marking each soul present.

“I will only say this once. Those of you who value your lives will refrain from even thinking about my girlfriend. And as for the other rumors”—I paused, fixing Baptiste with a look that bordered on a threat—“they’re just that. Rumors .”

Her smile widened. This was nothing but a game to her. “We’ll see.”

Ambrose stood, grabbing his tweed coat from the back of his seat. “We agreed to the spell, but Second Parish doesn’t need help, especially from vampires. Keep your poison out of the Garden District or—”

“Is that a threat?” Baptiste asked.

étienne laid a gloved hand over hers, and Baptiste’s mouth clamped shut. Even she wouldn’t dare disobey a sitting member of the Vampire Council. He tipped his head to Ambrose. “The boundaries will be respected. Our business will stay in the French Quarter. ”

A muscle worked in Ambrose’s jaw, but he nodded. He glanced to his companions, fixing the witch who had spoken against him with a glare. “Let’s get out of here. You can restart your spell.”

She pulled a face behind him as she trailed him out the door, the other covens following suit. Corinne muttered under her breath as she stalked past, probably hexing me. Only Baptiste and étienne lingered. In many ways, vampires were the creatures most similar to my kind. They’d been maneuvering politics between species for centuries. That made them powerful allies when they chose to be, but while étienne had sworn allegiance and seemed to respect my authority over the city, he still answered to the council. Baptiste was a bit more complicated.

The vampires approached us. étienne gestured for Roark to speak privately with him, leaving me to contend with her.

Baptiste sauntered closer, placing one hand on her young companion’s shoulder. “Caleb, darling, go get the car.”

He nodded once, eyes skirting in my direction as he passed as if sizing me up. I bared my teeth at him, and he hurried along.

“I see you got yourself a new pet,” I said to Baptiste as he disappeared toward the lobby.

She batted her eyes at me as she fiddled with her red leather gloves. They matched her lipstick exactly. “This one is breaking in nicely.” She swept a lingering look over my face, frowning slightly. “If only all men were so easily trained.”

Somehow, I suspected that sentiment applied even more strongly to me .

“Can I help you with something?” There was no point in pretending that this conversation was anything other than transactional.

“You can change your mind about the opium dens…”

Never missed a trick.

“I’ve got things under control,” I said, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Baptiste hesitated, something unreadable passing in her golden brown eyes. But she forced a wan smile. “Is it true? Is this girlfriend a human?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you that,” I admitted.

“I’m not going to bite her! I’m just surprised. Humans are so fragile.”

“There’s nothing fragile about Cate.” I laughed at the thought.

Baptiste blinked, smiling slightly. “Perhaps I need to meet her.”

A meeting was probably inevitable. Most of the leaders of the city’s covens would want to meet the woman attached to the rumors swirling about me. But given my history with Baptiste, I suspected it was about more than curiosity for her. It would be a cold day in hell before I volunteered to introduce the two of them.

“I really didn’t believe it when I heard about the Wild Hunt,” Baptiste continued. Was that concern in her voice? Impossible. “And then my brother told me you went after the Infernal Court. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when you called me for help. How did that work out?”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m sure he reported right back to you.”

“Who? Dante?” Baptiste shrugged. “Of course, but I’m hardly keeping track of a human.” She winked. Only one of us cared about mere mortals. “I was trying to be polite.”

“That would be a first,” I said dryly.

“I suppose you aren’t the only one allowed to change.” She brushed her glove along my arm as she moved toward the door. “If you grow tired of her, I’m feeling a bit cooped up lately. You could stop by the restaurant or the casino.”

I shifted out of her reach. “I’m certain Caleb can distract you.”

She cocked her head, a dazzling smile breaking over her crimson-stained lips. “I suppose he keeps me busy.”

étienne and Roark broke apart as she exited the room. The vampire paused instead of following after her. “I am genuinely pleased that you are back,” he told me, something paternal in his otherwise youthful smile.

“You may be the only one,” I said grimly.

“Don’t let the others fool you. Many of us remain indebted to your family.”

Many but not all .

étienne bent his head to Roark. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course.” My penumbra inclined his own. “We’ll look into it.”

The vampire strode gracefully from the room, taking the last remnants of tension with him.

“What did he want?” I asked Roark when he was gone.

“Our assistance,” Roark said through gritted teeth. Or maybe not all the tension. “If you took the signet back from Ciara, you wouldn’t have to ask me for details.”

“I’ll pass.” I’d maintained my poker face during the meeting, but I had my own reservations about the strength of the bona fides spell. Ciara needed to be prepared to take the throne. Roark needed to accept that. It meant working on their relationship, whether they liked it or not.

He raked a hand through his hair. Symbols blinked over his knuckles as his eyes narrowed. “A witch is missing from First Parish. Thalia. No one has seen her for two days. She was a friend of Corinne’s—étienne thinks that’s why she was so worked up at the meeting.”

“She’s always that worked up.” But I frowned at the news. “Do they have reason to be worried?”

Roark chewed on his lip ring for a second. “With the bona fides in place, they know she can’t have left the city, but no one can locate her.”

The last thing we needed was more friction between the covens. “Have our people make a sweep. It’s probably nothing.”

But these days, nothing was ever simple in New Orleans.

“I think it actually went well,” Roark said as we stepped into the lobby.

I snorted, not feeling an ounce of amusement. “Compared to what?”

He held up his hand, ticking off a list on his fingers. “No blood. No bodies.”

“What a standard we’re setting.” I nodded to a group of passing guests. It was strange to see humans back in the Avalon, but we couldn’t keep it locked down forever. Every choice we made was a message to both those outside the city and those inside it.

The Gage family was still in control. We weren’t ruffled. We weren’t afraid. It was the same bloody business we’d always handled.

Roark fell silent as they passed.

Even without the signet ring connecting us, I knew something weighed on his mind. “Out with it.”

“Have you told her?” he asked.

“What?”

He crossed his arms, the fabric of his jacket straining like it was trying to stay in check—and near failing. Roark lowered his voice so no one could hear us over the usual noise of the lobby. “What will happen if you can’t return to the Otherworld? What happens if she doesn’t return?”

I knew what he was implying. “That’s a touchy subject at the moment.”

“You can’t stay here forever, Lach, and neither can she,” he added quietly.

I knew that, but knowing it didn’t mean I could change anything. “It’s a moot point until we find a way around the memento mori.” I drew a breath so deep that it burned my lungs. “Besides, I’m not sure she wants any part of our world.”

Roark shook his head. “She wants you, and you belong in the Otherworld.” He pointed around the gleaming marble of the hotel. “Not this one.”

We stood in silence, neither of us quite knowing what the other was thinking for the first time in our lives.

“Need to blow off some steam?” he asked.

I huffed. “What do you think?”

“Want to shoot something?”

Or maybe he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Oh gods, yes.”