Chapter 15

The trigger depressed under my finger, the gun clicked, and Aaron slammed into me.

A second body hit me a moment later, and I was crushed between them. The gun was yanked from my hand, my arms were wrenched back, and Blake locked me in a hold that had my spine arching against his broad chest.

Aaron held the gun by its barrel, breathing hard as he stared at me like I'd sprouted a second head.

I blinked slowly. My gaze moved from the pyromage and the gun he held, then to my brother's face, frozen in disbelief. My hand …holding that icy metal grip. My finger …pulling the stiff trigger. The memory was fresh and bright in my mind.

I—had—pulled—the—trigger.

Panic exploded through me and I screamed.

Aaron and Blake jolted at my piercing cry, and Justin leaped up from his chair.

"I didn't do that!" My panicked shriek raked my throat. "I didn't—that wasn't—no, no—I would never—"

I struggled against Blake's hold, denials spilling from my lips as tears spilled down my cheeks.

"I didn't—I didn't—I didn't—"

But the gun had been in my hand. I'd pulled the trigger.

As I devolved into a wordless wail, Aaron set the gun on the end table beside the sofa, then pulled me from Blake's hold and pushed me at Justin. My brother caught me with a startled grunt.

"Calm her down," Aaron ordered. "Blake, let's go."

The terramage nodded sharply.

"Go?" Justin clamped an arm around me as the two mages strode for the patio door. "Where?"

"To find the mythic who messed with Tori," Aaron called over his shoulder, eyes blazing. "Wait here."

They disappeared outside, and I didn't move, standing rigidly in Justin's hold.

"To find …what?" I whispered.

"Someone messed with you? What does he mean?"

"I don't know." My whole body shuddered nonstop, and I couldn't shake the image of the gun in my hand, aimed at my brother's shocked face. I had done that. Whatever Aaron thought had happened, no one had put that gun in my hand.

Justin wrapped his arms around me. How could he hug me after what I'd tried to do?

Minutes dragged by, then the patio door banged. Aaron strode inside, fury on his face and Blake right behind him. I cringed into Justin as the pyromage strode up to me. He drew me away from my brother, turned me, and pushed me down on the sofa.

"Tori," he said quietly, kneeling in front of me, "what happened while you were gone?"

"Wh-what?"

"You went outside. Where did you go?"

"I …I walked to the coffee shop."

"Do you remember the whole walk?"

"Yes."

"Did you see anyone else?"

"No."

"What happened next?"

I locked my hands around his wrists, clinging on for dear life. "I went into the coffee shop. I looked at the donuts, then I got in line."

"Did anyone talk to you? Did anyone touch you?"

"No."

"What happened after you got in line?"

"I …I left."

"Did you buy anything?"

"No, I just …left."

"Why?"

"Because …" My brow scrunched. "I don't know. I think I …I needed to come back here right away."

"Do you remember walking back here?"

"Yes …"

"Did you plan to get out the gun?"

A tremor shook my limbs. "I don't know."

Blake crouched beside Aaron, his expression grim.

"Black magic?" he rumbled. "Or Psychica?"

Aaron rubbed my upper arms through my jacket. "Alchemy strong enough to control her would probably cause memory loss. If she remembers everything but doesn't know why she changed her behavior—"

"Psychica," Blake concluded with a nod. "Probably a mentalist."

"Wait." I looked between them, my face cold with tears. "You think someone made me do that? But—but I didn't talk to anyone, or touch anyone, or drink a potion. No one told me to walk back here and—"

"Mentalists' powers come in a lot of foul flavors," Aaron interrupted. "Do you remember the one from KCQ who got me?"

I remembered. A woman who, with a simple touch, had taken full control of his mind and body.

"You encountered someone like that, and they influenced you without making contact—or they did make contact and made you forget."

"Did you find them?" Justin asked. He'd reclaimed his gun and was emptying the chamber into his hand. He stuffed the lone bullet and magazine into his pocket.

Shaking his head, Blake pushed to his feet. "There was no one nearby, and we didn't know who to look for."

"What if there was no mentalist?" I whispered. "What if I just snapped? What if I'm going crazy and I—"

"Tori." Justin stepped closer. "I've seen you in the grip of every kind of anger. Even when you get vicious, I know what it looks like, but that—that was completely different. Your eyes were empty, like you weren't thinking or feeling anything. Whatever happened, that wasn't you."

My mouth trembled. I launched past Aaron, arms stretched out, and Justin pulled me into a tight hug. I could feel the unsteady shivers in his limbs. A sob shook me, and he put his face against my shoulder.

"But you still scared the shit out of me," he mumbled. "Why didn't the gun fire?"

I peeled away from Justin and glanced at Aaron. "You suppressed the shot, right?"

He nodded. "But like I've said before, don't ever count on me being able to stop a gunshot. I have to be really close, and even then, my success rate isn't fantastic." Rising to his feet, he glanced around. "Now let's pack up. We need to get out of here ASAP."

My brow furrowed.

"That wasn't a random mentalist who sent you back here to blow a hole in your brother." He strode into the bedroom, his voice floating back out. "I'm not sure how, but our poking around yesterday didn't go unnoticed. Maybe the Praetor saw our vehicles or checked the attic and found evidence of an intruder."

Hastening after Aaron, I found him scooping his shaving kit off the bathroom counter and tossing it into his duffle bag. "Hurry up and pack, Tori."

I rushed into the bedroom I'd slept in, where my suitcase sat open on the bed. I scooped yesterday's clothes off the floor and threw them in.

"The Praetor isn't messing around." Blake's voice rumbled out of the living room. "He went straight to hiring a professional."

"Professional what?" Justin asked.

"Assassin—one who can make us kill each other and end our investigation without ever drawing attention to the cult."

I shuddered at his words. An assassin. Had they known they were sending me to kill my own brother? Out of the three men, Justin was the least dangerous. Killing Aaron and Blake would've been the smarter move, but maybe the assassin didn't know that.

I hadn't hesitated to aim for Justin. Had the mentalist specified my target …or had I chosen him because of something in my subconscious?

Shivering even more, I pushed the thought away and opened my makeup bag. Fishing out the compact with the demonic amulet, I popped the lid up, slipped the mysterious talisman from its hiding spot, and tucked it in my pocket. I'd surreptitiously move it to my combat belt as soon as I had a chance.

"This is escalating faster than I expected," Blake added, "but it'll be another eight hours at least before the team is here."

I froze—then shot toward the door. Bursting into the living room, I demanded, "What team?"

"A Keys team." Blake had his phone out and was peering at the screen. "Make that two teams. They'll tag the Praetor, and I'll let them know about the assassin as well."

Panic drummed across my ribs. Bad, bad, bad. We were here to find a grimoire that could save Ezra's life, and the presence of even one Keys of Solomon mythic was already complicating that. Two teams of them would screw us completely.

Which meant we needed to act fast. We had only eight hours before the Keys teams arrived and snatched away Ezra's last chance.

I darted back into the bedroom, flung my shit into my suitcase, and zipped it up. When I dragged it into the living room, Justin was closing his duffle bag. Leaving my suitcase beside him, I hurried into Aaron's room to see if he needed help.

Standing at his bed, he stuffed a shirt into his bag, then pulled the zipper.

"Ready?" I asked. "We should—"

He glanced up, and I faltered at the paleness of his face.

"Aaron?" I stepped toward him. "What—"

He shifted away from me like I had a contagious disease, then caught himself. His jaw tightened. "Tori, if I seem to be acting even the slightest bit strange, run the hell away from me. I won't be offended."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

His hand closed over the shoulder strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white. "An assassin who can make us attack each other …" His haunted eyes flashed across my face. "A gun is child's play compared to my pyro magic. One bullet hole? I could—"

Breaking off, he shook his head, unable or unwilling to describe the damage his white-hot fire could inflict on a living body.

"If that mentalist gets me—" He swallowed. "Maybe I should stay behind."

I strode across the gap between us and threw my arms around him. "You're coming with us, Aaron. We've handled worse."

His gaze dropped, and I could hear his unspoken, "But have we?"

Taking hold of his arm, I dragged him out of the bedroom. "Let's get moving already, guys!"

Blake went ahead, climbing into his jeep and starting the engine while Aaron, Justin, and I threw our bags in the back of the SUV. We drove our convoy of vehicles to a supermarket parking lot, where Justin left his truck and got in with us. Aaron followed Blake's jeep toward the suburb's outskirts.

"An assassin," I muttered, shivering at the word. An assassin trying to kill us. Not that people hadn't tried to kill us before, but this was a lot scarier. Not merely a killer—but a manipulator who would try to make us kill each other.

Swallowing a surge of dread, I added, "And pretty soon we'll have two Keys teams to deal with too. Unless there's a cult grimoire in the Praetor's house, we have no chance of finding one before they show up."

"We need to get rid of Blake and the Keys," Aaron said, eyes on the jeep ahead of us. "If we can send them off in the wrong direction, that'll buy us time. As soon as Kai joins us, we can figure out a plan."

I nodded. Yes, we needed Kai. He was our plan guy. He knew how to get shit done. He did his research, and …

My eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You brought a laptop, right?"

"'Course."

"Then while you search the house, I'll work on something else—something that'll put us a good long step ahead of Blake and the Keys."

* * *

By the time we arrived at the Praetor's house, his garage—the vehicle one, not the demonic-worshipping one—was empty. He'd already left and would hopefully stay gone for the day.

Aaron and Blake had the job of breaking in and systematically searching the entire four-thousand-square-foot house. Me, on the other hand—my ass was parked in the SUV, and the SUV was parked in a sheltered copse of trees just off the road. Through the windshield, I could barely see the street and one corner of the Praetor's distant driveway.

Aaron's laptop was open on my knees, and on my phone was Justin's video recording of last night's cult meeting. I clicked around in the spreadsheet I'd made, prepping it for my self-assigned task.

My brother, sitting in the driver's seat, leaned over the center console to peer at the laptop. "What are you doing?"

"Making a chart with our best guesses at the age, height, weight, hair color, and eye color of all the cultists. Then Aaron or someone else in the Crow and Hammer can use the information to search the MPD's mythic database for them."

"Is it a database of criminals, or …?"

"Every mythic is supposed to be registered by eighteen. If all the cultists are rogues, then we're SOL, but if even one of them is registered, we can find them."

"Hmm. Would the assassin be in the database too?"

"Probably not. Assassins don't usually play by the MPD's rules. Besides, we don't know anything about them, so we can't look them up."

As I spoke, I racked my brain again for some inkling of who'd messed with my head, but I had nothing to go on. Anyone from the barista to a random passerby could've poisoned my mind.

"So," I declared determinedly, "let's see what we can figure out about the cultists."

I listed each cult member in the first column of my spreadsheet, labeling them from one to twelve based on their position in the circle. I added the Praetor too, since we didn't know his name yet.

Justin picked up my phone, started the video—sound muted—and watched it play for a moment. "Let's see …the first cultist is female, medium brown hair, between five-foot-three and five-foot-six, and between a hundred and thirty pounds and a hundred and fifty. I can't tell her eye color."

I blinked repeatedly, then typed the details into my spreadsheet at top speed. Why was I surprised? My brother might know next to nothing about mythics, but he knew how to profile suspects.

"Okay," I said brightly. "That's it for Cultist Number One. How about Number Two?"

He skipped forward through the video, searching for a better view of the second cultist. "Tori …did you overhear Aaron and I talking earlier?"

My gut twisted. "Yeah."

His finger paused on the phone screen. "I'm sorry for—"

"Forget about it."

"But—"

"You're worried that I can't keep up with Aaron, Kai, and Ezra. They're powerful, combat-trained mages and I'm a …Yeah, it's a legit concern. But I'm not like I used to be, you know. I don't just impulsively charge headfirst into danger."

Well …to be honest, I still did that occasionally, but it wasn't impulsive anymore. I was deciding to charge headfirst into danger.

I wasn't sure that was any better, though.

"I can see that," he said softly. "You've changed. It's good, I think."

My gaze flicked to him, then back to the laptop screen. He rattled off the details of another cultist, which I added to the spreadsheet.

"But I'm scared for you, too," he added as I finished typing, so quietly I almost couldn't hear him. "You've already had to kill to defend yourself. How long until someone kills you?"

"That won't happen. I have the guys to protect me, and—"

"I heard what Aaron said before we left. He could kill you." Justin shook his head. "I've patrolled the worst streets in the Eastside, full of raving addicts and gang members, and I've never felt fear like I did when that demon appeared last night."

"Demons are really scary," I agreed in a mumble.

"What makes all that worth it, Tori?" His gaze probed me, but I didn't look up. "Why are you so determined to be part of such a dangerous world?"

"It's not all danger and ugliness, Justin. There's beauty and wonder too." I nudged my combat belt, tucked under the dash near my feet, with a toe. "Hoshi?"

Silver scales burst from the back pouch. The sylph rose into the air, her undulating tail filling the front of the vehicle. Even though he'd briefly seen her at my apartment before our pre-Christmas argument, Justin recoiled, pressing against the driver's door.

"You remember Hoshi, right?" I stroked her smooth neck. "She's a fae—my familiar. We're friends."

"Friends?"

"She talks to me with color and images in my head. It's pretty cool." I rubbed under her chin. "Hoshi, this is my brother, Justin. He's never met a fae before."

She canted her head, studying him with fuchsia eyes. He forced his limbs to relax, his throat moving with a swallow.

"Hello, Hoshi."

The jeweled tip of her tail flicked, then she stretched her neck out and sniffed at his shoulder.

"There's so much that's amazing about the mythic world," I explained, struggling to find the right words. "Creatures like Hoshi and other fae, and magic like you can't even imagine, and people too. The people are just …" A grin tugged at my lips. "At the Crow and Hammer, at least, they're all misfits like me. I've never fit in anywhere before, but I fit in with them. It's where I belong."

Justin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know it feels like this guild is the only place where you can belong, but …but I bet everyone in that garage last night would say the exact same thing about their group."

A tremor ran through me. My throat tightened, hurt and fury slashing through me.

"I'm just saying—" he began hastily.

"I think you've said enough," I snapped. "Let's focus on our job."

He returned his attention to the video and searched for a good view of the third cultist.

I stared at the laptop screen without seeing it. Hoshi had drifted into the back of the vehicle to peer over the seats at our luggage. I wished I could get out of the SUV, but I couldn't draw attention to us. I wanted to be alone so badly.

My gaze shifted to my phone, in Justin's hand, and I realized that wasn't quite true. I wanted to be with Ezra.

I wanted to hear his smooth, soothing tones that soaked into my very essence. His quiet smile, his mismatched eyes warm with understanding. He'd hold me in one of his amazing hugs, then he'd say the right thing to ease the storm in my heart—a straight-faced joke, a funny story, or a simple question about what I needed.

But I couldn't talk to him because he didn't want anything to do with me. I'd trampled all over everything that mattered to him in my attempt to save him.

That burning was back in my eyes, but I wouldn't cry. Not again. I'd shed enough tears on this trip already, and no way was I going to—

The car door beside me opened.

My head jerked up, and expecting to find Aaron standing there, I twisted toward the door—just as a single stupid tear broke free and trickled down my cheek.

"What's wrong, Tori?"

I blinked at the man beside my door. Blinked again. "Are you a mirage?"

"No."

"Am I sleeping?"

"Doesn't look like it."

"Then …you're actually real?"

A bemused smile. "Last I checked, yes."

A shudder began somewhere in the vicinity of my diaphragm, then burst outward to fill my limbs with frenetic energy.

"Kai!" I gasped, leaping out of the car.

Somehow, he caught both me and the laptop that went flying off my thighs. Not caring one little bit about Aaron's thin, expensive techno-toy, I clamped my arms around Kai's neck and mashed my face into his leather-clad shoulder.

"It's only been a few days," he muttered—but despite his words, his arm was tight around my middle.

"Feels way longer." I pushed back, holding his shoulders as I scanned him. "Look at your sexy ass. Nice getup."

Leather covered him, padded motorcycle pants clinging to his legs and a badass jacket enhancing the breadth of his shoulders. Add his dark hair, tousled from wearing a helmet, and a faint flush from the cold brightening his cheeks, and he was oozing hunkitude all over the place.

Damn, I had hot friends.

Grinning broadly, I glanced around for his motorcycle—and did a double take when I saw two sleek red bikes parked behind the SUV. And I did a quadruple take at the leather-clad woman leaning against the second one, her helmet visor pushed up to reveal her cold stare fixed on me.

"You brought her?" I hissed disbelievingly. The urge to storm over there and kick her good and hard in the shin was strong. Very strong. I hadn't forgotten that it was her signature on Kai's guild transfer paperwork. She'd stolen him from us, and I didn't care what bullshit she spouted about her reasons. What she really wanted was a fresh chance to make him fall in love with her.

Fat. Freaking. Chance.

Kai tugged me into another embrace, and hiding his face beside mine, he whispered, "I may have led her to believe that a trip together was a good opportunity to rekindle a closer relationship."

I grunted angrily.

"Why is your brother here?" he asked.

"Long story." In my peripheral vision, I could see Justin lurking on the SUV's far side, eyeing the newcomers. Probably wondering if they were scary magic criminals.

In this case, he'd be right.

As Kai set the rescued laptop on the SUV's roof, Makiko sauntered toward us, her sleek black hair flowing neatly down her back, somehow untangled by the wind of their highway ride. Maybe it was an advanced aeromage trick.

"Tori," she said coolly.

"Makiko," I replied with just as much ice. "So kind of you to loosen Kai's chains for a few days."

Kai sighed. "Can we focus? Tori, where are we at?"

"Well, so far—"

My earpiece crackled. "Tori, you there?"

I fumbled for the controls and unmuted my mic. "Yes, Aaron, I'm here. What is it?"

"We just searched the Praetor's bedroom." The tinny speaker couldn't hide the bleakness in his voice. "And I think we have a problem."

A few minutes later, we'd convened at the SUV for a quick meeting to discuss said problem.

The issue? Mr. Praetor had flown the coop.

Aaron and Blake had found clear signs that the man had packed a bag and skipped town. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and shaving tools were gone from his bathroom, and large gaps in the contents of his dresser drawers revealed missing socks and underwear. And most damning of all, the tapestry with the crown-in-a-circle emblem was missing from the detached garage.

In other words, we'd screwed up—and screwed our chances of finding a grimoire.

We should've captured the Praetor right after the cult meeting. Though we'd had no reason to assume he would realize a guild was on to him, we shouldn't have taken the risk. Now, we had an assassin on our tails and our only lead had disappeared.

A new plan was formed, and we all got back to work. Kai joined Aaron and Blake to search the rest of the house for any cult clues that the Praetor might've left behind. Justin and I resumed profiling the cultists, and Makiko joined us with her own laptop to perform the actual database search; as a guild's acting GM, she had all the clearance we could need.

Our shared task didn't require a whole lot of talking, but I found plenty of opportunities to shoot ice-cold glares her way. I had no idea why she was here, what she knew about our mission, or whether I could get away with throwing her ass-first onto the curb. So I settled for glaring.

Noon came and went as we picked our way through the cult video, my spreadsheet, and Makiko's search results. A headache built behind my eyes, and I rubbed my temples.

At a glimpse of movement outside the window, I looked up. Blake stalked down the road toward the grassy alley where he'd parked his jeep. I blinked after him—then the SUV's driver door opened.

Aaron leaned down, peering at Justin and me. "Any luck?"

"Some," I admitted. "You?"

My door opened, and Kai leaned against the frame. "Absolutely nothing. This guy ran a clean operation."

"But," Aaron added, nodding toward Blake as he disappeared behind some trees, "we're rid of one problem. Blake decided there are no leads to follow, so we should all let the Keys teams take over from here."

"A plan we reluctantly agreed with," Kai said in a tone of mourning. "What choice do we have but to head home now?"

I opened my mouth, ready to furiously explain how we weren't giving up yet, then caught Aaron's smirk. "Oooh. I see."

We weren't leaving. We were just letting Blake believe we were. No more terramage dogging our every move.

"Let's get out of here," Aaron said. "We'll head back into the city and finish identifying the cultists. Blake doesn't know about our video recording, so we don't have to worry about the Keys teams getting to them first."

We rearranged for travel—Justin moving into the backseat, Aaron taking the driver's seat, and Makiko returning to her motorcycle—then set out. The SUV zoomed down the rural road toward the highway, Kai and Makiko following on their bikes.

"So where are we going?" I queried. "We need a new place to stay."

Aaron shrugged. "I'll have to rent a place again, I guess."

"Is that smart?" Justin asked cautiously.

I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "What, you want to sleep in the SUV tonight?"

"Obviously not, but it's safer to assume Aaron's accounts are compromised, isn't it?"

I blinked, and Aaron looked equally confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Isn't that how the assassin found our rental?" Justin frowned. "If the Praetor got your license plate, the assassin could hack into your credit card records. It's implausible for a civilian, but I don't see any other explanations—unless there are magical ways to track people I don't know about?"

Aaron's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "There are, and I should've thought about them myself. I was more worried about the assassin than how they found us."

He flipped on his turn signal and pulled onto the highway shoulder. Kai drew his bike up beside Aaron's door and flipped his tinted visor up. Makiko stopped behind him to listen in.

Aaron rolled down his window. "We may have a telethesian problem on top of the assassin problem."

"Oh?"

I scrunched my nose, trying to remember what a telethesian was. Some sort of psychic?

"The assassin found us too easily," Aaron explained. "They must have a telethesian tracking us."

Kai nodded. "Then we'll have to be fast. As long as we keep moving, we should be able to stay ahead of them."

"Got it." Aaron grinned. "But don't leave me in the dust."

Kai's answering grin disappeared as he pulled his visor down. The motorcycle's engine revved, then he pulled out with a squeal of burning rubber. Makiko's bike flashed past as she took off in pursuit, and Aaron shoulder-checked before pulling out after them.

We sped down the pavement, leaving the Praetor's house—and hopefully the assassin—far behind.