Chapter 8

8

“Nice,” Rooke said as I joined them outside.

She was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. Both black. Sven couldn’t take his eyes off her, and with good reason.

My pastel-haired and blue-eyed cousin rocked black. It made her look funky. When I wore it, I looked like the third and most devious wife of Lucifer. She was my mother and grandfather, and I’d been passed our grandmother’s genetics. So had Syera.

Okay, I was half demon too. That may contribute.

“Thanks,” I replied, striding across the meadow in my towering heels—spelled to feel as soft as a cloud. I wasn’t stupid about life.

I wore a jumpsuit that covered my runes, but the outfit had a plunging neckline. My position as coven leader had made me think twice about my attire tonight. I wanted to wear pub attire, and anything I wore should also be classy. Ditching the classy part was my natural setting. The outfit had taken thought.

We exited the barrier, and I made a mental note to check what fueled it now Corentin no longer had to release energy each day. Then again, if we had an alliance with the Vissimo and Luthers, and the demons could get through our current barrier, did we need to expend energy that way?

Sven looked around with interest as we walked through the forest toward the only business establishment for miles. A pub—The Buried Knolls Pub, in fact. Someone had gone for the logical business name approach.

“What’s our plan?” Rooke asked. “Will Rhona be there?”

The others had snuck out not long ago to get a message to the supernatural leaders. One that warned the Vissimo and Luthers not to send anything further before we made contact again.

“Hopefully. I wrote a letter to give her. Just saying—hey, let’s catch up.”

Sven glanced at me.

“Obviously in more leadery terms,” I told him. “Chill.”

“I’ll chill when I don’t have to work around the clock to keep the coven from imploding.”

“That bad?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer.

Rooke did. “Yes. Tenuous.”

I nodded. “I didn’t want to make this move with the other species straight away, but only seven covens have voiced their support. With training and time to get defenses in place, we can survive an attack of the last size, as long as the demons don’t have any new tricks. But if the demon king sends more…”

“Vissimo and Luthers would be great to have around,” Sven finished.

“Each of our races will have information on the demons, not to mention the differences in our individual powers. We need many strengths and every bit of knowledge to finish this for good.”

“For good,” Rooke repeated.

“We can’t live our lives defending the coven against constant threat.” Bedwyr made that clear. I had powers the other magus didn’t, and that gave me some certainty. They didn’t have any of that. Varden had slept in the quarters I’d just taken over. He’d told me how that job affected him. I’d seen the physical signs—the ulcers on his body—that told me how demon magic could eat at a magus. “We need to ensure the demons won’t attack every week—or year—or decade. We need a permanent solution.” Otherwise, perhaps the solution was to give the demons the territory they wanted and seek refuge in another area.

Which would mean fighting other supernaturals for their territory, thereby doing the same thing to them that the demons were doing to us.

“You’re right,” Sven said. “We can’t live under that threat year after year.”

We fell quiet as the bar came into sight.

I hadn’t been back to this dusty, greasy place since Rooke and I snuck out, and it was a strange feeling to have been here last as someone without knowledge of her true heritage. Without the addition of four relics. Without a bond to Wild.

That woman felt like a child to me now.

I entered the bar, opting to sit in the keg shadows Wild had once occupied. The others sat either side of me, and Rooke ordered our drinks.

I accepted the absinthe shot, casting her a questioning look.

She shrugged. “That’s what I’m being told you need.”

“I’m surprised I don’t need gasoline.” Absinthe was a win.

No longer than a minute passed before a human joined us.

“You took your time,” the red-haired woman said to me.

I looked up at Rhona. “You spend all your nights here?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “And it’s fucking boring.”

I bet it was. “Your leaders will be glad you persevered.”

Something flickered over her expression. Regret? Determination? Rhona tilted her chin. “I hope so.”

I sipped at my absinthe. “You have something to prove.”

She met my gaze without flinching. “A mistake to rectify. Trust to repair.”

The human red-headed woman was prickly as fuck, but I could appreciate the amount of work it might have taken her to make such an admission to herself and me too. Some people volleyed between pride and denial like a fucking beach ball at spring break. From pride to denial and denial to pride, one reinforcing the other until a stunted person who couldn’t admit failure, and therefore never progressed, was all that remained.

“Let’s grab a table,” I said.

“We’ll go to my table. No one comes near it anymore,” she answered.

I wonder why.

We sat at her corner table, and she glanced at Sven and Rooke. “They’re not coming?”

“No, not this time.” I clasped my hands together atop the table. “Things have changed since my friends delivered the last message.”

“The one who told me to wait some more.” Rhona scowled.

I didn’t smirk. Just. “I can deal with your leaders, and those of the Vissimo clan in Bluff City, directly as the leader of The Buried Knolls coven.”

Rhona blinked. “The first time I saw you, you were joining the coven, weren’t you?”

I hadn’t told her as much, but… “Yes.”

She snorted. “You fuckers work fast.”

“You know other fuckers like me?”

“Yeah. Basilia, and my sister, Andie. When you guys enter the scene, you’re sitting on the throne five minutes later.”

I lowered my shot glass. “You have a sister?” Who’s the Deception Valley leader. Who was a Luther, too, or so I’d assumed. Interesting.

“Didn’t know about her for most of my life, but yep.” She searched my face. “Only a year between us. Everyone thinks we’re twins.”

I smiled sadly. “I had a twin.”

Pain flickered in her eyes. “What happened?”

“She was killed by a demon five years ago.”

I didn’t know if Rhona could truly imagine the pain. I’d been raised with Syera from day one. We’d existed in the same womb. Invisible parts of us were shared as though we were one person at times.

“Is that what started this demon war for you?” she asked.

“No. I didn’t know which supernatural was responsible for my family’s murder for a long time.”

“But demons were involved, and they are now?”

“They are.” I slid over my letter. “This is for Princess Basilia and Pack Leader Andie.”

“Just call her Andie. She hates that proper shit.”

I liked her more already. “And Basilia?”

“Call her princess because that’s what she is. She owns it somehow. You never manage to forget her sharp teeth and claws despite it.”

Spoiled? Or with a thirst for power as well as blood? I wasn’t sure what to make of Rhona’s remark. “I’d like to meet with them both. Their mates are welcome also.”

“Good luck otherwise.”

I tapped the table, wondering how much to tell the human. “There was a demon attack on the coven not many days past. We have reason to believe the demon king’s efforts are not restricted to maguskind.”

Her eyes rounded. “There’s a demon king?”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Unthinking gremlins. Savage hellhounds.”

I hid my smile behind my glass as I finished the absinthe. “How long will it take to get this message to your sister?”

Rhona’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “I’ll leave immediately. I’ll go directly to her, and no one will rip this fucking letter from my hands.”

She was a human, and I didn’t doubt her intent. Just her ability to ensure it. I hovered a hand over the letter and coated the parchment and ink with apothecary and battle. “If that does happen, however, then the letter will appear blank to anyone other than the four leaders it’s addressed to.”

“But then I’d need to come back and sit in this fucking bar for another fucking month. Not happening,” she replied.

I studied her. “What mistake did you make?”

She didn’t want to answer, and if she hadn’t been alone for the last two months, Rhona likely wouldn’t have replied. “I put my faith in the wrong person, and then didn’t put my pride aside until too late.”

“You’ve been trusted with this task,” I pointed out.

“Only because my sister is the person who deserved my faith from the get-go. She decided not to give up on me.” Rhona held up the letter. “Thank you.”

I glanced around the dimly lit bar that smelled of stale cooking oil and wet carpet. “Don’t thank me. You earned it.” I rose. “If you need to return, come straight to the barrier through the forest. You’ll be safe, and you’ve spent enough time in this place.” I joined the others.

“Is it done?” Sven asked, watching as Rhona strode out of the bar, slipping into her leather jacket on the way.

I’d invited Vissimo and Luthers to the coven for what I’d expect was the first time in the coven’s history.

I nodded. “Sure is.”

For better, or for worse.