Page 25

Cate

La Porte’s bathroom felt like a sanctuary after the Danse Macabre, especially given the fact that Ciara had unceremoniously ordered every other soul out and locked the door behind them. Ciara smoothed her glamoured bob as I adjusted the bodice of my gown with the help of the gilded, full-length mirror that leaned against the emerald-and-gold-papered walls. I frowned as I noticed a jagged tear along the skirt’s hem.

Ciara caught sight of the damage, and her lips twitched. “Looks like you’re not getting that deposit back.”

“I guess not.” At least it was worth it.

“Maybe you should be more careful.” Mischief glinted in her green eyes. “Did you catch it on something or someone or someone ’ s something ?”

I rolled my eyes even as my heart pounded, recalling exactly how the dress had been torn. “I think you need to get laid.”

She snorted as she stared at her reflection. “Who has the time?” Waving a hand, she turned her lips a deeper shade of red, nearly crimson. “I mean, except you.”

I circled a finger in her direction. “This isn’t meant to catch someone ’ s attention?”

Two could play the innuendo game, and since she’d been bombarding me with them since I bargained my way into her life, it was her turn to lose it.

“Maybe.” She pursed her lips like she was practicing said seduction. “There are a lot of vampires here tonight.”

“I thought the eighties were your vampire decade.” She’d told me that once in a fit of melancholy.

But this time she laughed. “Honey, every decade is a vampire decade.”

“We’re really going to pretend that nothing’s going on with you and—”

“Don’t finish that thought.”

I crossed my arms and waited for her defense. As far as I was concerned, it was more than a thought—for all interested parties. “Was I this obstinate over Lach?”

“Worse.”

“Speaking of acting like a brat,” I said, watching her flinch in the mirror. I softened my voice, hoping I still sounded firm. “You’ve been kind of harsh with Roark lately.”

Her bubbly facade faltered, her smile waning like the crescent moon outside. She released a long sigh that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken thoughts. “I know,” she admitted, leaning against the sink, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “It’s just…easier than admitting how awkward this new arrangement is. I’ll be glad when we break this curse and everything goes back to normal.”

“What if it doesn’t? What if Lach needs you to take the throne? You’re going to need Roark.” Something twisted in my gut. It was a possibility I rarely acknowledged because of the implications. But Ciara was my friend, and as much as I wanted a return to normal—or whatever this new life of mine was—I owed it to her to be truthful. She needed to face this. Maybe we both did.

She fiddled with a ring on her finger. “I can’t explain what it is that annoys me so much about him.”

The corners of my mouth lifted involuntarily. “That’s a feeling I understand.”

“It’s not like that.” She glared back at me.

“Of course not.” I didn’t try to hide my sarcasm. There was a thin line between irritation and attraction. She knew it, too.

“If you’re implying that—” The click of a lock interrupted her, the bathroom door swinging open with urgency. A cacophony of shouts and curses spilled in along with a trio of flustered women, one of whom I assumed must be a witch.

“Sorry,” the one dressed in a flapper costume said when they spotted us. “Shit is going down out there.”

My heart stopped. “What’s happening?”

“Some human guy just picked a fight with a witch, and now his vampire and fae friends are getting involved. It’s going to get ugly fast,” another said between pants, her eyes round and wild as she slammed the door. “How did you not hear it?”

“I had a privacy ward on the door,” Ciara said, pushing past her. “You said he’s with a vampire and a fae?”

The flapper nodded, holding out an arm to slow Ciara. “You should stay here. Let someone else break it up. Lachlan Gage is out there.”

But Ciara was already giving me a sympathetic look. A vampire, a fae, and a human walked into a bar… What were the chances? I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the onset of a headache. “If only…”

Ciara grabbed my hand, yanking me into the chaos outside the bathroom, the energy in La Porte spiraling like the beginning of a storm. We forced our way through the crowd of people, half of whom were trying to escape and the others egging on the fight.

Channing stood defiantly amidst overturned chairs and spilled drinks, his fists clenched and blood leaking from a split lip, his questionable new friends beside him. Shaw snarled like he wanted another round, but Dante had his palms raised, trying to talk down a group of male witches stalking toward him.

“Channing!” I yelled over the din, but it was like trying to be heard in a hurricane. I scanned the room, looking for Lach and Roark, but they were nowhere to be found.

Maybe Lach wasn’t going to do anything. Maybe he wasn’t even here. And if Lach couldn’t or, worse, wouldn’t do anything, I would .

“Let Lach handle it,” Ciara said, but I shook my head and kept working my way through the crowd of onlookers until I could hear everything.

Channing barreled toward him, but Dante caught him around the middle. “Let it go.”

“Fuck that,” Channing shouted, rage mottling his fair skin. “She said no. Respect it or I’ll make you respect it.”

Dante didn’t budge. “They aren’t worth it.”

“We didn’t ask your opinion, switch .” One of the witches spat at Dante’s feet. The vampire’s nostrils flared at the slur, but the witch kept talking. “And since you all seem to be confused, let me point out the obvious. Humans need to remember their place.”

Another witch moved closer, murmuring something in a strange language, and Channing grabbed his own throat, choking like he was struggling to breathe. It was a spell of some sort. I elbowed a woman out of the way, the rushing sound in my ears muffling her cry of protest. A fight was bad enough, but Channing was no match for their magic.

“Don’t you get it?” the witch called as my brother fought for air. “We’re higher in the food chain now. It’s about time everyone in town learns that.”

I shoved toward them, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Stop it! Let him go.”

But my path was blocked by one of the witches, his eyes narrowing on me. “This is none of your business. We can take care of that asshole.”

“That asshole is my brother.” I shoved him in the chest, wishing I had even an ounce of the magic Ciara had. She could use it. Any of them could use their magic, and this would be over in seconds. Why weren’t they?

“Whoa! A live one.” He caught me around the waist and spun me, pretending to dance with me. I struggled against his hold, but he pinned my arms tightly at my side.

“Put me down now,” I ordered in a low voice. “You have no idea who you are fucking with.”

He dipped me. “Who’s that, darling? Another fragile human? But you sure are pretty.”

His friend moved to his side, hatred gleaming in his eyes as they focused on me.

“You should take off that costume,” he snarled. “I can see what you truly are.” A chill shot down my spine as he continued, “Change—”

Darkness swept through the room, cutting him short. Panicked cries filled the space; the people who were reckless enough to have stayed were now trying to escape. The grip on me loosened, and I slipped to the floor. When the shadows lifted, the witches had clustered together, my brother, his friends, and me forgotten.

“Tried to warn you,” I told the flirtatious one as Lach appeared at my side. I stared up at him, relief mixing instantly with annoyance. “Took you long enough.”

“I thought you liked to fight your own battles, princess.” But strained fury blazed in his eyes.

“S-s-sir.” The witch who had grabbed me took a step forward.

Lach’s hand swept through the air, the gesture deceptively light, but its effect was immediate and forceful. The witch crumpled to his knees as if invisible weights had been fastened upon him.

Who was top of the food chain now?

“Enough,” Lach seethed, power rolling off him in palpable waves. “Do you know who I am?”

The witch nodded, his face pinched with pain or fear or some welcome combination of both.

“And do you know who she is?” Lach gestured toward me with a tilt of his head.

The witch’s eyes darted to me, widening as it hit him. Another nod, this one laced with reluctance. “I’m sorry.”

“If you know who I am, you know what I do to men like you.” Lach’s voice was low, but each word cracked like thunder. “Normally, I would take your hands for it. But since you knew who she was, I assume you want to die. There are less painful ways to meet your end, but none come swifter than touching what is mine.”

I stood there, the heat of anger replaced by a cold shock, but I found myself unable to move, locked in place by some terrifying desire to let him do just that. This was about more than the mating bond, although that probably wasn’t helping. It had always been about more with him. I’d seen enough of all the fae courts to know that respect was often a currency traded flippantly, rules not applying as often as they did. Oberon had abducted me. Bain had hit on me. They might hold others accountable for whatever law this was, but Lach…

It took everything in me to find a single word to stop him. “Don’t.”

Lach’s chest rose and fell, his eyes never leaving the man on his knees. “You’re lucky she’s merciful.” But before the witch could stumble back to his feet, he cried out. The bones in his hands shattered in a series of sickening cracks. I looked away as his fingers snapped. Scrambling forward, I reached for Lach’s arm to tell him enough.

“It is the law,” he said roughly, but he didn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he looked around the room. “Does anyone have a problem with that?”

The whispers surrounding us raised in heated disputes, the energy of the room shifting dangerously. Words clashed, threatening to become something more physical. The covens were already on edge, this brawl a live wire sparking dangerously close to kindling.

“Is someone picking a fight in my bar?” a lofty voice called over the ruckus. Baptiste stepped from the crowd, another vampire with unkempt hair and pitch-black eyes following her closely, and a hush descended on the room. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Lach. “I should have known you would be in the middle of it.”

“Just keeping my people in line.” He smirked at her, but there was no hint of amusement in his eyes. “Security seems a touch lacking.”

Baptiste bristled, her mouth turning down. “We’ll see about that.” She lifted a hand and beckoned to one of her men. “Caleb, see that these assholes find their own side of town.”

The shaggy vampire bobbed his head, grabbing the collars of the two closest to him. “Let’s get you where you belong.”

A shiver raced through me at his carefully chosen words.

Baptiste’s frown lifted into a wide grin. “Wasn’t that easy?” She took a step toward Lach and tapped her index finger on his chest. “I’ve got everything under control.” They glared at each other for a moment before she whirled toward the watching crowd. “If you’re here to dance, the night isn’t getting any younger. If you’re here for trouble, get the fuck out.”

All around her, people shared looks before turning back to their own friends.

“Channing.” I rushed to my brother as the music picked up again. “What were you thinking?”

He shook his head, his expression a mix of stubborn pride and recklessness. “It wasn’t me. He started it.”

“It doesn’t matter who started it—” I began, but Lach cut across our exchange, his attention now divided between us and the simmering crowd.

“And you know better,” he growled at Shaw.

His brother’s jaw tensed, an increasingly familiar look of frustration gleaming in his eyes. “That’s right. I should. But I don’t know better because I’m just a fuckup.”

“Shaw—” Channing reached for his friend’s shoulder, but Shaw shook him off.

“It’s okay. I know where I stand.” He glanced away, not quite hiding his pained expression. “Lach is the powerful one. The strong one. He does everything right.”

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Dante suggested in a gentle tone.

“Listen to your friend,” Lach advised. “Party’s over.”

Shaw drew a sharp breath and released it with a forced grin aimed at me. “But the night is young.”

Lach looked as charmed as I felt.

“Then live it elsewhere—preferably far away from witches.” His tone left no room for discussion.

Lach turned his gaze once more to the party.

“Come on. We can find ambrosia,” Dante suggested, hustling his friends toward the door. He gave Lach a quick nod.

I stared after them, wondering if I should follow. Channing needed someone to talk some sense into him—not that I’d ever been very good at that. “Should we send them home?”

“Do you think they’ll go?”

He had a point. Still, letting the three of them loose into the night seemed like a bad idea.

Channing’s shoulders remained rigid with unspent energy all the way to the door until Dante slipped a casual arm around them. My brother leaned into him slightly, finally relaxing.

We definitely needed to have a conversation about boundaries when it came to vampires.

But the clock was inching closer to midnight, so it would have to wait.

Turning, I found Lach, his eyes still smoldering with savage anger that only time would subdue. I touched his arm gently. “I need to go. Willow’s expecting me for the séance.”

A muscle strained in his neck as he looked around us. There was no way he could leave, even with the risk of the Wild Hunt.

“They won’t know I’m coming,” I whispered. “I have no magic to track.”

His eyes softened, and he managed a nod. “I might join you later…if this mess gets sorted.”

Translation: he was struggling to let me out of his sight.

“Thank you,” I murmured, sensing how hard he was fighting to do so now. “Your spirit will be with me either way.” I stood on tiptoes, pressing my lips briefly to his in a kiss that both soothed and stoked my own muddled feelings.

Ciara approached us, arms crossed, her glamour now lacking its earlier luster. “They couldn’t behave for one freaking night. Now we have to deal with this shit,” she huffed, eyeing the crowd. Lach’s scowl deepened, but before he could voice his disapproval, Ciara rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. This is worse than an unpaid internship—except, you know, with the added danger element.”

“I have to go.” I jumped in before the next fight that broke out was between them. Looking down, I remembered I was still in my costume. “And there’s no time to change.”

Lach lifted a hand, and I found myself in a T-shirt and jeans from our wardrobe. His own costume had traded with his usual armor—a black suit and tie. He passed me a purse that felt suspiciously heavy. “Stay safe.” He nodded toward the bag. “Just in case.”

I knew better than to argue with him about this point.

“Where are you going?” Ciara asked, but Roark was already guiding her toward a vicious argument happening across the room. Lach closed his eyes and turned to join them, as if he needed extra help letting me go himself.

The temperature had dropped to somewhere between pleasant and cool. After the events of the last few hours, the balmy air felt good on my skin. Willow’s shop was only a few streets away, and I cooled off more with each step, but even distance from La Porte wasn’t enough to stop my thoughts from churning. Channing’s knack for trouble was as reliable as it was alarming, and tonight I hoped to face the one person who would be as worried about him as I was.

“Have I let you down?” The whispered question lingered unanswered in the quiet street.

The thought gnawed at me with every step, any anticipation I’d felt earlier shifting to dread. As Willow’s familiar storefront came into view, the fluttering anxiety in my gut coalesced into a single, sharp point of determination. The veil between worlds was thinning. I would find out soon enough.