Page 46

The word didn’t compute. Soulmate.

It sounded like a joke. A punchline that wasn’t particularly funny.

Except neither man looked like they were joking or like they were at all surprised. They looked like they believed this was a fact. A fact that both of them had already known. They’d probably known it since Lorcan had called her the Irish “pet name” last winter.

She understood why Graves would withhold that information. In fact, she remembered when she had come home from Brooklyn and he’d pushed her about Lorcan. Had he been fishing to see if Lorcan had divulged this piece of information?

He had not. And now he was dangling the word on a hook like it meant something to her. Like he meant something to her.

She took a step back. This was Imani’s insidious magic warping their minds. They were fighting over her like she was a prize to be won. There was no fight here. Not one she wanted to be a part of. They were already enemies enough.

“I don’t know what that means,” she said finally. Lorcan opened his mouth as if he were eager to explain. “I don’t want to know.”

His mouth snapped shut. Graves looked smug.

“You two can fight this out without me. I want no part in this dick-measuring contest. We have more important things to deal with.” Like where the hell Imani had gone.

Kierse tuned out the two men arguing over her protest and zeroed in on the goddess stalking toward the auction items.

Fuck. The cauldron.

Was that Imani’s motive? Was she seeking revenge for what Kierse and Graves had done? Would she retaliate by stealing from Graves the thing that he wanted most?

“Graves, the cauldron,” she said, trying to shake him out of it. But the magic had its hooks too deep in him. She pushed him again. “Find the fucking antidote and come back to me.”

His eyes cleared for a second as the word “antidote” came out of his mouth.

Imani’s power tightened its clutches and he was gone again. But at least he was fighting. She just couldn’t wait for him to figure it out. Not when Imani was loose and the cauldron was within her grasp.

Kierse left them to duke it out, following in Imani’s wake. “Laz, did you get out?”

“Just got into the car with George,” he reported back. “I heard everything. Edgar has the antidote and he’s on his way.”

Kierse burst backstage, racing toward the back auction room.

The auctioneers had already packed up and fled.

The box that held the cauldron was missing.

Kierse raced out the emergency exit leading to the rooftop.

Schwartz had warned them that all the auction items had been brought up the back of the building on 41st Street with a pulley system, and Imani stared down over the rooftop where it had already been utilized.

“Fuck,” she hissed.

Imani whirled on her. “Little wren, you’re in over your head.” Then she stepped off the edge of the roof and dropped.

Kierse’s eyes widened in shock. She ran to the edge and found Imani clinging to the brick as she slid down. Whatever magic power that was, Kierse had never heard of it. Graceful falling?

But it was currently giving Imani the advantage on the cauldron.

Kierse could see a security team far below on the street loading equipment into the back of two cars. She knew that in the event anything went wrong, the team would extract the items and load them into separate armored cars, including both the cauldron and a decoy cauldron box.

They would be gone any minute. If Imani could reach the ground in time, she would have the cauldron within her grasp. And Graves wouldn’t be able to shed Imani’s magic before it was gone.

Going after the cauldron post-auction had always been an option if all else fell through. She had thought Graves would be coherent enough to make the call. Now it was her call.

The decision felt obvious.

“Imani is after the cauldron. If we don’t go after it, we’ll lose it,” she told Laz. “Send George around to 41st.”

“Confirmed. We’re on our way.”

Kierse hiked up her dress and tied up the train as she ran for the scaffolding on the back of the building. She ripped off her heels, mourning the beautiful gold shoes, then vaulted over the side of the building and took the stairs three at a time.

Too slow, too slow, too slow. Still she ran, feeling those wisp instincts kick in.

Suddenly she was taking each set of stairs in stride, missing the entire set to land on the next platform.

Her body felt primed and ready as if it had been made for this moment.

Eleven stories and superhuman speed and she was still going to be too late.

Imani landed on the ground as they slammed the door on the remaining armored car and the first drove toward 7th Avenue.

Imani never broke stride as she pulled powder out of a hidden pocket at her waist and flung it in their direction.

Only one of the guards was brought to a stop.

The shifter fell to his knees at her feet, writhing, and then the last door slammed shut and the vehicle took off in the opposite direction from the first.

A black car screeched to a halt before Imani, and she jumped in. Kierse landed on the ground as Imani’s car pulled away.

“Fuck,” she cried. “They’re getting away.”

“Almost there,” Laz told her.

George rounded the corner, skidding to a stop before her. Laz threw open the back door, and she jumped inside as George followed Imani onto 8th Avenue at a dangerous speed.

“Does Graves hire racecar drivers?” she asked.

“Graves hires those he finds valuable,” George said. “You’re going to need to do something about that dress.”

“You don’t have pants in here, do you?”

A knife appeared in his hand, offered through the privacy partition.

“Right,” she grumbled.

Then she hacked at the train of her dress until the thing went from full length to a mini dress in a few quick moves.

“Any word from Schwartz which vehicle we’re following?”

“Even security wasn’t informed which vehicle had the cauldron and which had the decoy,” Laz told her.

Kierse groaned. “Great. Well, fifty-fifty shot, anyway. Best to stop Imani. She’s on a long list of the last people I want to have an object that could make her more powerful.”

“I’ll get closer,” George said, and he put his foot to the floor.

Kierse clung on for dear life as they sped south down the mostly empty streets.

Luckily, Manhattan had developed enough in the intervening years that lights illuminated the darkened avenue.

Neon signs glowed from buildings as they zipped past the entertainment district toward Chelsea.

Imani’s black car was a block ahead of them, and the armed convoy was another block ahead of her.

They’d have lost them both in the darkness if not for the city that never sleeps waking up again.

Madison Square Garden loomed ahead as they cleared the distance.

“Plan?” Laz asked.

Kierse shook her head. “Thinking.”

“I suspect the boss would think this acceptable in this situation,” George said and then pressed a button on the steering wheel.

A box slid out at Laz’s feet. It hissed softly as it opened to reveal a handful of guns and ammunition.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Laz said as he loaded one and passed it to Kierse.

She took it in her hand, knowing this was the turning point.

Imani had changed the game. If the warlock got her hands on the cauldron, that was the end of the road.

Even if Imani was simply doing this for revenge, she could use the magic of the cauldron to make herself more powerful.

Like the spear, that power in the hands of the wrong person could prove deadly. Kierse couldn’t let that happen.

“Back me up?” Laz said.

The sunroof slid open, and he climbed out like he’d done it dozens of times. They were really doing this.

Instinct took over, and Kierse slid through the partition into the front seat.

She rolled the window down, hoisting herself out it and into a position to cover Laz.

She’d always preferred knives to guns, but she’d had enough practice with them in her youth to find the handle comfortable in her grip as she leveled it at the back of Imani’s car.

Laz opened fire on the vehicle, shattering the back windshield into a million little pieces. The car swerved and another figure appeared with a gun in hand, returning fire. George maneuvered smoothly away from the gunfire while staying on their tail.

Kierse ducked as a bullet whizzed past her. “Fuck.”

She narrowed her eyes and felt her superior eyesight take over.

She could see down the sights of the man leveling a gun at them.

Not a face she recognized, but clearly one of Imani’s minions.

She could kill him. He clearly did not care whether or not he killed her.

But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to stop Imani.

She wanted to get the cauldron for herself.

There was another way.

Kierse dropped her gaze and opened fire on the soft rubber tires. The back one went flat, shredding into several pieces as it ripped out from under them. The car skidded sideways, making a horrible shrieking noise as it tried to drive on the dented, sparking rim.

She aimed again and released a volley of bullets until one landed in a front wheel. When the second tire blew, the driver lost control of the vehicle and sent it careening across multiple lanes. Bullets rained toward them, and George took the turn wide to avoid ending up in a collision.

A soft golden glow of magic suffused the car as Imani tried to salvage the damage. Then with a horrifying crunch, it slammed into a parked car in front of Penn Station. The car seemed to fold in on itself with a deafening smash.

The magical glow switched off like a light. Imani was out of the game.

As they passed the car, Kierse could see the driver had a bleeding head wound. Imani lay sprawled across him. The man who had been firing at them had been thrown from the car. Her husband, Montrell, was not among them.

Red-and-blue lights flashed a few blocks behind them. Kierse could hear the whine of an ambulance already in pursuit. Oh, how times had changed. A few years ago, no one would have come for help.

“Cops,” Laz said, taking another clip from George.

“Continue to pursue the cauldron?” George asked for confirmation, unconcerned.

Kierse took a breath. The plan had gone to shit as it always did.

She had learned to improvise on the job, and this was no different.

They had known it might come to this. Not Imani, per se, but they’d known about the decoy and the chance to go after the cauldron.

If they stopped now, what then? The cauldron was just gone?

“What about our intel?” Kierse asked.

“Half the files were corrupted,” Laz said. “I didn’t see anything about headquarters or the owner in all of it. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been searching for this goddamn thing for Graves for nearly a decade. I’m not ready to let it go.”

She wasn’t ready to lose it forever, either.

“Do it,” she told George.