Chapter 24

Arush of air filled my lungs when I found Trek in front of his computers in the communications room. Blessed saints. After the night I'd had, he was exactly the company I needed—someone who wasn't planning on handing me my ass.

I hoped.

He put the satellite phone down as I approached.

"Home?" I asked, pulling up a chair beside him.

He sighed as he nodded, pouring himself two fingers of the bottle of Scotch sitting on his computer desk. "They are preparing for our arrival, exactly as you requested."

I turned the half empty bottle toward me and read the label. A soft whistle puffed from my lips. "Vintage Dalmore. Liquid Gold. Who'd you have to kill for this?"

Trek chuckled and winked as he took another glass out from inside his desk drawer. "A gift from a friend. Care to join me?"

Was he kidding? I'd be a wanker to refuse. "I need more friends like yours," I said as he poured me a drink and handed me the glass.

"For now, your sorry ass is stuck with me." He lifted his glass to mine. "For Gideon."

"For Gideon," I echoed as I clinked his glass.

"May he witness the sun rise forever in the vale," Trek said.

"And may his soul finally find peace."

"Amen, brother."

Taking a hearty gulp of the amber liquid, I savored it before letting it coat my throat, the intricate flavor of dark chocolate mixed with spices and orange inundated my senses. Reclining, I closed my eyes and hung my head back, taking a much-needed moment of respite.

"You made the right call, Kane."

Tilting my head back up, I flipped one eye open and stared at him.

He patted his heart, eyes glossy. "Losing one of our own is never easy. You know I'd be the first one to tell you if you'd fucked up, but trust me when I say this, if you'd not gone in there, the witch would be in Luther's hands right now."

I took another swig, defiling the scotch. "Tell that to my son."

Trek leaned in as if sharing a secret, the lights from the computer screens reflecting in his mocha-colored eyes. "Gideon and Bal… they were close. He's mourning. Give him time."

Sitting up straighter, I rubbed my palms down my face. "Problem is, we don't have time. You think Luther and my brother aren't going to come after the witch? The Hive, too? Not to mention what the council will do when they find out we have the Spirit Marked and that I offered the Sisterhood an invitation to interrogate her without first consulting with them."

His brows knitted, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, it's going to be a clusterfuck."

"With Larick out for the count, Bal needs to take charge. And if he's not focused?—"

"When has he ever not done his job?"

I closed my eyes, rubbing the back of my neck, acknowledging the truth. As hot-tempered and pig-headed as he could be, Bal never once let me down. But the heaviness of his grave stare the moment we arrived at the warehouse weighed on me like a mountain of rubble. In his eyes, I'd failed him, and that was like a molten iron pick through my heart.

Placing the empty glass on the desk, I stood. "Thanks for the drink."

"Where are you going?"

"To figure out what I'm going to do about this fucking mess once we get back to Stonehaven."

"Did you tell them?"

"That we're not going to Bringham? Can't take that chance. Not yet at least. If Luther planted Hogan as a mole, then he could have planted more. Until I can vet the entire team, everyone is on a need-to-know basis."

Two hours later,a knock sounded outside my room. "Yeah?" I drawled, pinching the bridge of my nose, sleep clawing at me from behind my eyelids. I'd been poring over old texts about witches and magic, and my mind had turned to scrambled eggs trying to make sense of all their history.

"May I come in?" The sound of Anya's soft voice lifted my attention. Before leaving for Requiem, Trek mentioned she'd been weakened by the exorbitant amount of energy she'd expelled trying to track the magical signatures. Perhaps she was feeling better. Or she had tenebrous news for me.

Anya had an exceptional vampire gift that none other possessed, and the secret behind that gift rested in her previous life. Prior to being sired, Anya had been a member of the Sisterhood of Light. She'd held the ability to channel other witches' powers—a skill she used against their nemesis, the Vates Ordo.

An invaluable asset to the Sisterhood, she was part of their Inner Circle, comprised of the most powerful witches in their hive.

But no matter the value of an asset, the Sisterhood held zero tolerance for the violation of their rules. As their magical power lives in their blood, to rip Anya of her magic, they flayed her skin alive, draining her not only of her magic, but of her life. They left her for dead. I found her as she breathed her last mortal breath.

A reprehensible act of unnecessary violence, all because they discovered she and a member of my coven had fallen for each other and shared blood. The vampire she'd fallen in love with had been young and indefensible against the Inner Circle, and all I found of him was a pile of ash.

My people gave Anya a second chance at life, as a vampire—something the Sisterhood took as a major affront. Seeing one of them as one of us tore at the heart of the Inner Circle. They feared a sired witch would be too dangerous if they inherited their magical powers.

I'd half expected Anya would resent us for turning her into one of the creatures her kind was raised to abhor. But she saw it as an opportunity for retribution. Against the Sisterhood.

While she did not keep her magical abilities, she was reborn with a special vampiric gift. She could no longer channel another witch's magic, but she could detect magical energies—a skill she offered to our cause, aiding us for the last three hundred years in our hunt for rogue witches and sorcerers.

Knocking a second time, she asked, "Lord vampire?"

"Come in, Anya."

When she poked her snow-white, curly-haired head through the door, I said with a smile, "How many centuries have we've known each other, soothsayer? You know to call me Kane."

Dressed in black combat pants and a hooded white tunic, she stepped fully into my room, clasping her hands in front of her as she nodded. "And you know I do not possess the gift of foresight. I can only read what the bones show me."

"Come, have a seat," I said, offering her the armchair opposite from me. Cheeks flushed with a rosy flare, her dark skin glowed against the warm, dim light of my room. Sandy-colored eyes shone brightly, and the grace of her movements was smooth and strong. She displayed the clear signs of a recent feeding and a tiny pang of jealousy curdled low in my abdomen.

Ignoring the sharp claws of my hunger, I said, "Tell me, what have your bones shown you?"

Hands gently resting on her lap, she sat at the edge of the chair, her spine firm as a board. "Great trials await, Kane. The path ahead will not be easy."

I huffed a small laugh and reclined back in my chair, legs outstretched. "As has been my entire vampire life, I expect nothing less of my future."

"This is different," she said, leaning forward. "The fates of many are entwined, including yours. Enemies will be many. Those you love will be in great danger. You must protect those who are close to you—with the heart of a lion."

I took a cleansing breath. She'd stopped being a witch three centuries ago, but that didn't mean she'd stopped practicing the craft. Anya claimed magic was unnecessary for divination, only knowledge of the occult and the ability to read the signs provided by the universe were required… skills she'd had many lifetimes to hone.

Still, making life or death decisions from vague details was hardly good strategic planning. As much as I always appreciated her guidance, I needed something more than a be careful. "Can your bones be more specific this time? Names? Dates, perhaps? Something a little more… concrete?"

Her eyes darkened. "You mock me."

I sat up straighter and offered her a gentle smile. "No, Anya. I've always been thankful for your warnings but protecting what's mine—my people—has always been a top priority for me. I don't need a sack of bones to tell me that." Checking my watch, I stood. "I'm sorry. You know I enjoy our conversations, but the sun rises in twenty minutes and?—"

She clasped the ring hanging from the chain around her neck. "And we must offer our friend to the light."

"I wish we had more time."

Her expression softened, a warm smile spreading across her lips. "We are eternal, Kane."

"But not un-killable." As I extended my hand to her, she took it and rose to her feet, but she did not let go of my hand. Pulling in closer, she said, "If you heed any warning, let it be this… Your fate, and that of that girl's, is linked from this moment onward. You are tied to one another, and the decisions you make will have dire consequences, not only for this realm, but for others. Follow your gut, Kane, and your heart."

The chill that scaled up my back made me shiver. She'd been ominous before, but this time, she'd managed to send ripples coursing through my blood.

I knew I'd declared war on my brother and the Vates Ordo when I took that girl, yet a dulling ache clung to my neck. I couldn't quite shake the notion that what Anya meant about our fates being linked ran down a deeper and darker path.

One I was too afraid to explore.

As I steppedfoot out into the pre-dawn, a whoosh of brisk air whipped against me. I didn't bother zipping up my leather jacket—the cold didn't affect vampires like it did mortals. The snow clouds had cleared sometime during the night, and as I approached the makeshift altar in the middle of the warehouse's backlot, my boots crunched against the thin blanket of snow left behind by the storm.

Peering up at the sky, I blew out a melancholy breath. The navy-blue sky had begun to lighten to a purplish pink, signaling the birth of another sunrise. We had but a few minutes before the sun would poke its head above the horizon.

The team was already gathered in a circle, and a path opened for me to enter. In the middle, Gideon lay atop a stone altar, his body anointed with myrrh and covered in a white linen shroud.

I drew a small blade and sliced a gash across my palm, letting blood drip onto his covering. "From blood and death, we rise. With fire to ash, we fall." One by one each member of my team walked up to the shrouded body, offering their blood in similar fashion, chanting the words we'd spoken for centuries when our brethren fell in battle.

Bal was the last to step up to the altar. "May you witness the sun rise forever in the vale." He sliced his hand and held it over the body, squeezing his palm closed, blood pouring from the wound. "Until we meet again."

On his last word, the first of the sun's rays penetrated the small cluster of cottony clouds whispering across the sky. We all took shelter under the cover of the garage, donning protective goggles as the full force of the sun's light ignited the blood on the shroud. Flames erupted, engulfing the linen and Gideon's body.

In silence, we waited until only embers remained. At dusk, before leaving for the airport, Bal collected his ashes to bring back home to our coven's crypt.