Chapter 17

Icould tell my portal was held together with bubble gum and bobby pins by the mother of all headaches that slammed into me seconds before I got vertigo and melted out of Midas's arms. I hit the ground, which wasn't more than a foot away, and groaned from the jostle.

The bumpy ride sent him to his knees, and once I got out of his way, he lurched aside to empty his stomach on the grass. I would have joined him, a delightful couple's activity, but I was a puddle of nausea and too queasy to roll over onto my side. Not choking to death on my own vomit proved to be a surprisingly powerful motivator to keep it all down.

"I don't have long." Ambrose knelt beside my head. "I wanted to thank you, again, for your trust."

"We make a good team." I swallowed convulsively. "I still have concerns, though."

"I will prove myself a true friend over time." He bent and brushed his soft lips across my forehead. They were as cold as winter's kiss. Or the grave. "We have endless amounts of it."

As he withdrew, I clasped his hand. "Maybe this won't be the last time we talk."

I don't know why I said it, except he had to miss the sensations that came from being his own person. It might have been a kindness, or an admission of fear. Forever was a long time. We could become friendly—if not friends—but he was still a threat to me and to Midas. If the occasional shore leave kept Ambrose satisfied until Linus and I determined what came next, I was willing to give him that much.

"Maybe not," he said, amused. "Eternity is a long time to live with someone and not speak to them."

With that, he began to fade, to thin and darken until he was nothing but a wisp of shadow. Melancholy clouded our bond until it too faded as his magic regained its balance.

"We'll figure it out," I promised him. "Right after we mop the floor with the coven."

The safest place to drop us would have been HQ, but there was no cell reception in Faerie. That meant I had no way to initiate the call sequence to divine its location for the night. Usually, the Faraday was a solid second choice, but that was a no-go. The area was under siege, and we couldn't help the residents if we got ourselves locked in with them. The next best thing, the area I had the strongest attachment to, was the Active Oval.

Most nights I had company on runs, humans and paranormals alike, but we were alone.

The peculiar glowing light might have driven away anyone set on getting in their laps before bed, but I doubted it. In the age of social media, it was more believable that we would have been swarmed, photographed, and videotaped. Likely, we would have been hailed as alien invaders in tomorrow's headlines.

Which, don't get me wrong, would be so frakking cool.

Me? An alien? With a newspaper-worthy agenda?

It would be like Christmas came early.

It would also be damning for my career and put my life in danger from Society retribution, so there was that. I doubted I would still get elected to potentate if I unveiled the existence of paranormals, even if it was in an attempt to save five hundred thousand lives.

And there I went, compartmentalizing again to avoid thinking about Remy.

"Let's not mention this part to Linus." I sat up then rocked forward onto all fours, which I regretted immediately. "It sounds less impressive that we created a portal from Faerie when the ride makes you barf up your toenails."

The other portals ran as smooth as an ice cube on a hot griddle. Ours was more like the little engine that could but really didn't want to, but hey. It worked.

"Rollercoaster fame is based on terror, exhilaration, and vomit."

"Let's stop saying that word." I got my legs under me. "Let's stop saying all words pertaining to that."

"Here." Midas rose in a fluid motion I couldn't have mimicked even before the portal. "Let me help."

Wedging his shoulder beneath mine, he got me standing upright then traded his grip for my waist.

"How are you over this so fast?" I wobbled. "How is that fair?"

"I have fae blood," he reminded me. "I also spent a great deal of time in Faerie. I acclimated."

"I'm calling Bishop." I located my phone. "We need to get eyes on this portal until it goes bye-bye."

Despite switching my cell off under Remy's glare after the first portal, it proved as dead as a frakking doornail.

"I don't suppose you have yours?" I put away my phone. "I seem to have lobotomized mine."

"No." Midas touched his back pocket on reflex. "I left it with the supplies in Buckhead."

Tipping my head back, I glared at the overcast sky. "Where's a payphone when you need one?"

Genuine shock reverberated through him. "You remember payphones?"

"No." Slanting him a glance, I laughed at the look on his face. "I remember movies with payphones."

Shaking his head, a smile on his lips, he scanned the area. "We can't leave the portal unguarded."

"The best I can do is set a circle around it." I had that much juice left, but that was about it. "It will keep humans from wandering in, but it won't stop anything that comes through the portal from getting out."

"That will have to do."

"It's better than nothing," I agreed. "Ambrose, can we rig an alarm to tell us if the circle is breached?"

The shadow stroked his chin then stuck out one hand while pointing at his palm.

"It's not like the city is in peril." I reached in my pocket, located the chocolates, and tossed him three. All the while I reminded myself maintaining balance with him was a good thing. "Let's take a moment to indulge your sweet tooth."

After gulping them down, he motioned me to follow him with what remained of my supplies.

"Wait here," I told Midas, trusting him to alert us to any oncoming danger. "This won't take us long."

With careful instruction from Ambrose, and a boost from his stored energy, we erected a circle that kept the most vulnerable from getting too close. We embedded triggers as well, to inform us the second a sentient being pinged against our protective measures.

Natisha wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot. We couldn't afford to think or to act otherwise.

Anyone willing to sacrifice her children for vengeance wasn't going to get squeamish on us now.

The brutal reminder forced me to recall what else we had left behind us in the archive.

Goddess, please let Remy find her way home.

"You're getting better at this." Midas's praise came tinged with concern. "That was fast."

"It's small magic, and we're still flush enough to make it work without drawing on ourselves for power."

The reassurance was meant to comfort him, but I got the impression it unsettled him.

That made two of us.

Dependence on Ambrose held the potential for addiction, and I wasn't great at resisting temptation.

Obviously.

Midas swept his gaze around the empty park. "Where do we go?"

"Do you know anyone who lives near here who can lend us their cell?" I got gooseflesh thinking about leaving the portal unsupervised, but we didn't have all night to babysit it, and we had no means of contacting our allies. With no runners, walkers, or late-night strollers, we couldn't borrow one either. "The Clairmonts are nearby, but I would rather not try my luck there."

Ayla was an ally, but she would have her hands full coordinating with her people in the field. She would do in a pinch, but I'd prefer a more private environment for the calls I had to make. Odds were good she recorded her calls, and I didn't want to give anything about HQ away.

In my heart, I believed the OPA would be on top of things, even without my hand to guide them.

But my head reminded me to take nothing for granted until I touched base with my team.

Please let them be okay. Please let them be okay. Please let them be okay.

"There." Midas pointed out a gas station. "Can you make it?"

Brain still wobbling, a bit like Jell-O fresh from a mold, I squinted at it. "You know the cashier?"

Patience almost, almost, masked his amusement. "They sell burner phones."

"Oh." I forced my legs to get with the program. "I didn't consider a prepaid cell."

"I'll buy you a Coke and a chocolate bar too. Sugar will help."

In my experience, sugar always helped, or it at least made the problem taste better.

"You're the expert." I rubbed my tender stomach. "I wonder how long we were gone?"

I wasn't hungry, exactly, but I was forever snackish. I couldn't base the passage of time off that.

"We'll check our receipt." He caught my look. "That way we don't stumble in asking what day or time it is and draw unwanted attention."

"I saw that movie." I leaned into him. "Lots of those movies, actually."

"How else do you think I learned how to avoid the classic blunders?"

Heart doubling in size at The Princess Bride reference, I was about to kiss him senseless when a lone siren called out to the empty streets, its voice choked off in seconds, leaving my libido cold.

Midas pressed a kiss to my temple then hurried inside while I stood vigil in the silence.

The bench outside was dirty, but I didn't care. I sat while Midas shopped for us. He returned minutes later, dropped a box in my lap, and twisted off the cap of a Coke bottle for me before passing it over. I took a long drink, handed it back, then tore open the package to find a phone encased in thick plastic.

"I hate how they seal these things. It's a ten-dollar cell, not the latest iPhone." I twisted and picked at it. "You need a wrecking ball to open them."

"Or this." Midas transformed one fingertip to a claw and sliced out a square. "Better?"

"Much." I yanked it out and waited for it to power on. "Well? What does the receipt say? How long were we gone?"

"Four hours." He flashed it at me. "We spent eight or ten in the archive, easy."

"At least the difference worked in our favor." That was an unexpected blessing. "You mentioned chocolate?"

"I have KitKats or Hershey bars."

"The Hersheys are plain? No almonds or crackle?"

"Plain dark chocolate."

"The things I do for this city." I took the hunk of chocolate, tore the wrapper, and bit down. "Mmm."

"Yes." Midas had bought a jerky and a water for himself. "I can tell you're suffering."

Noticing him pocket the rejected option, I asked, "You don't want the KitKat?"

"I'm saving it for you for later."

"You don't trust me to hold my own spare candy bar?"

"No." He gave me a flat look. "I don't."

"That's fair." The phone screen flashed and then held steady. "Here we go."

I dialed the number for HQ, prepared to begin the directional sequence, but the line click-clacked.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" I parroted, dumfounded. "Bish, is that you?"

"Are you serious right now?" he demanded. "Who else would be answering this line?"

"Good question." I crushed the box in one hand. "You never do. How do I know this is really you?"

As much as I wanted reassurances the OPA could monitor the Active Oval, I had to verify him first.

"Where are you? I'll come get you." He swore under his breath. "I can't be sure it's really you either."

We had more room to maneuver in an outdoor location if an imposter showed up, which suited me fine.

After giving him the address of the gas station, he ended the call, and we settled in to wait.

"Borrow your phone?" Midas took a sip from his water bottle. "I need to update Mom."

"Technically, you bought it." I handed it to him. "It's your phone."

Midas snorted, as if to say what was his was mine, then settled in to let his mom know her only son had made it back in one piece.

Normal parent/children relationships were so weird. All the caring and sharing, the worrying and waiting by the phone, the fear and pride mingling. It was nice, what little I had experienced, but strange. Like living one of those black-and-white movies. Except not a science fiction one where the parents are robots or Martians.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

The unfamiliar chime of the new phone startled me as it spewed replies as fast as he could text.

"You can read over my shoulder," he said without pausing. "I don't mind."

Taking him up on the offer, mostly to be closer to him, I asked, "Any word on Ford and Hank?"

"They tracked my phone to the supplies. Bishop told them what likely happened, that I had gone to join you, and they followed my trail to the wards. They couldn't get past the second ring, so they fell back to the tree line. They're on standby in Buckhead. With the archive unplugged from Faerie and the other faegates, they're ready to return to the action. As soon as we have a rendezvous point, they'll meet us there."

"Good." I sent a prayer of thanks to Hecate for protecting them. "We can use all the help we can get."

"Mom wants to know if it's okay to send reinforcements to the portal." He let me think. "It's your call."

"Natisha is a gwyllgi, therefore she's a gwyllgi problem. That gives us an excuse, outside the agreed-upon forces allotted to each faction, to request a stronger gwyllgi presence in the city."

A teasing light entered his eyes that made my heart beat faster. "You're getting better at politicking."

"Hazards of the job."

I was finishing my candy bar, which, okay, doesn't take long, when Bishop walked into the parking lot.

"Hey." Jerking away from Midas, I shot to my feet. "You don't know how good it is to see you."

"Test first." He pulled out one of Abbott's kits. "Update later."

Used to the procedure by now, I let him test me and then Midas. We were both negative. I then took the kit and tested Bishop. He was also negative, which meant positive news for us all.

"Now that we've established we're all who we say we are—" I flung my arms around him and squeezed hard, "—I'm glad you're safe. How are the others? The pack? The city?"

"Come with me." He waved us into the dark. "We need to do this in private. The coven has ears everywhere out in the open."

I'm not proud of how my feet stuck to the asphalt a second too long, or how the hesitation made Bishop jerk as if I had stuck a knife in him.

"I borrowed Ford's truck." He stepped back, giving me space, then pointed to it in an adjacent lot. "We're going to HQ."

"I'm sorry." I ducked my chin. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Weirdly enough," he mused, "it's comforting to discover you have a vague grasp on self-preservation."

Mature as always, I made a face at him then walked with him and Midas to Ford's truck.

The silence on the streets was eerie. Thick fog swirled and blinded us, making it worse. There were no people out and about, no lights on in any stores, no movement aside from the piercing beams of the headlights.

"Who put the city to bed early?" I wondered, pressing my nose to the window. "How did they do this?"

"The coven sheltering at the Faraday." Bishop winked at me. "The humans won't wake until dawn."

"I bet Linus paid through the nose for that." I pictured endless zeroes. "I never want to see that bill."

"The cashier at the gas station must have been paranormal." A line bisected Midas's forehead. "He said I was his first customer all night. I took it to mean his shift just started, but maybe not."

"We've spread the word to batten down the hatches," Bishop continued, "but we can't reach everyone, and not everyone is willing to risk their jobs for their lives."

Humans had it worse on that front, but paras got fired just as easily if they dared put their health above their paycheck.

Linking and unlinking my fingers, I worked up the courage to ask, "How is the Faraday?"

Terrified he would say it was a smoking crater, a pockmark on the face of the city, I had let fear gut me.

"We're holding on by our fingertips," he reported. "The battle isn't lost yet."

Once Bishop cut the final turn into a familiar parking deck, I knew where HQ resided for the night.

Buttoning his lips, Bishop exited the truck, and we trailed him up three flights of stairs into HQ.

After the door shut behind him, his shoulders unkinked for the first time since coming to get us. His relief at returning operations to our mutual home away from home was evident as he dropped into his task chair, and it squeaked as its wonky caster spun him under his desk.

Inside, Reece's screen shone with occupation, but he was hunched over his desk, deep in concentration. He glanced up, noticed we had returned, then went back to his tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard.

"There's movement on the lowest level of the parking garage, coming in from the same direction as your entry," he reported to Bishop. "I can't tell who or what yet, but they're closing in fast and sticking to the shadows."

"We were followed?" I wrapped my arms around myself. "That never happens."

"There are close to two hundred practitioners in the city, as far as we can tell. That's a lot of people with a lot of magic to perform tracking spells."

Queasiness spread through my gut in cramping waves. "I led them to HQ."

"They followed you, or Midas, or me. They didn't find the OPA." He palmed his mouse. "Big difference."

As long as they were tracking me, not HQ, the other locations remained secure.

"There are parking decks all over the city," Midas added. "They won't bat an eye at you entering one."

"They'll blink when I don't leave." I let my smile tip toward him. "That gives us a little time, though."

"They're going to have kittens when they realize their supply chain has been cut and their exit has been blocked. They're stuck here, with no way out and no way to bring in more coven." A smile, the first real one I had seen Bishop wear since the wintry road, twitched in his cheek. "You did sever the archive, right?"

"Um." I stuck out a hand and wavered it side to side. "Yes and no."

"Be more specific."

"We collapsed three out of the four earthbound faegates and the main one leading into Faerie, from the Faerie side. The final earthbound gate, in Buckhead, remains active." Alpha and omega, how fitting. "The only way to pull its plug is to reenter the archive."

Mild amusement got the better of him when he asked, "And this portal you created?"

Clearly, he was tickled I could cross realms. I just hoped he understood I never wanted to ever again.

"The Active Oval portal will collapse on its own." I waved off his concern. "We don't have to sweat that one."

We only had to guard it until nature took its course and erased all signs of its ever being there.

"Collapse?" Bishop huffed out a laugh. "Portals don't just collapse."

"Trust me." I jerked my chin toward Ambrose. "This one will."

Interest piqued, he settled in to hear our full accounting, pausing us here and there to ask questions.

"How do we sever the tether from the archive to Buckhead?" Bishop frowned. "Any ideas?"

Only the one, and it was a major time suck. "All I can figure is we go back to the warehouse and—"

Nails scratched at the door leading into HQ from the parking deck, and we all froze like cornered mice in utter shock at hearing the next best thing to a knock on our frakking front door.

Never, in the history of the OPA's magically revolving HQ, had this happened before tonight.

Following us into the parking deck was one thing, but this insult set my upper lip quivering gwyllgi-style.

Cranking my head toward the screens, I demanded, "Who's out there?"

"Gwyllgi," Reece answered. "I count eight, but there could be more hidden behind the cars."

"The Faerie pack?" A groan clawed up my throat. "We told them we didn't want their dumb pack."

A low growl built in Midas's chest, and he stepped forward, crimson magic dripping from his fingertips.

"Ambrose?" I waited for my shadow to form. "Check it out for us?"

With a neat bow, he walked through the door and disappeared from sight.

"They must have followed us through the portal." Midas flexed his jaw. "I didn't expect them to be so bold."

That portal was bound to bite us on the butt. I shouldn't have been surprised when its jaws snapped shut so fast. But…if they came through it…why hadn't we been notified when they breached the circle?

"You took over a gwyllgi pack in Faerie?" Bishop shot to his feet. "Are you out of your mind?"

"It was an accident." I got between them. "Midas didn't kill the alpha, even though he deserved it. How were we supposed to know kicking his butt was enough to transfer the mantle of power?"

"Fae aren't used to fighting to the literal death for anything." Bishop began to pace. "They can, and do, live forever, and they like it that way. Plus, it adds spice later when the usurper is usurped. Otherwise, most fae lives don't change. Fae don't do much, certainly nothing dangerous, on account of wanting to live an eternity."

"The stories are full of scheming, backstabbing, and murder," I protested. "Are all fairy tales lies?"

"You know how the Society puts the interest of the High Society above the Low Society? And the Low Society's interests above anyone non-necromancer? That's how Faerie works. Our high fae are set in their ways, and they like the status quo. Our lesser fae are more expendable. Our halflings and changelings are cannon fodder for wars, territorial disputes, and entertainment purposes. And it gets worse from there."

"No wonder the stories are so Grimm."

Midas chuckled softly before squeezing off the sound. "Still not funny."

"Still laughed." I poked him in the ribs. "You really shouldn't encourage me."

"The pack didn't come through the portal," Reece interrupted. "We've got eyes on it. There's been no movement so far. You didn't feel your circle break because it hasn't broken. They took a different path."

With Natisha in the coven's pocket, we couldn't be sure she—and therefore the pack—didn't have access to other portals they had created outside the archive. Otherwise, the pack had to barter with someone to get here. The Earthen Conclave certainly hadn't stamped their passports at this hour.

"Okay, kid." Bishop hauled us back on track. "What do we do about our guests?"

Without sharing a chunk of Midas's history with Bishop, I couldn't frame why these particular gwyllgi had earned my distrust. That hardly mattered with them a threat at the door.

"Can you distract them?" I rubbed my forehead. "Draw them off so we can get out? We need to head to the Faraday anyway."

We could lead them onto a collision course with our people in the field and be rid of them that way.

"It won't fool them for long now that they've got your scent," Midas warned. "They don't forget."

"We need a way out that doesn't expose this location."

"They found it." Bishop shook his head. "We've got to burn it."

"Burn your HQ?" Midas jerked. "That's the only way?"

Aside from enlightening him as to how HQ migrated, when even I didn't grasp the mechanics, I couldn't explain why this wasn't a world-ending consequence. It was the cost of doing business. HQ was fine. We wouldn't lose anything here. Only the access point would change, and there were infinite parking garages for Bishop to choose from.

Though, I had to admit, I was starting to wonder if HQ existed in its own pocket realm. How else did Bishop tether it to a new location every night? The amount of power required to do that staggered me. And he did it on the fly?

Whoever he was, whatever he was, I was glad he was on our side.

"It's fine." I flapped a hand at Midas. "Don't worry about it."

"All right," he said slowly. "I'll take your word for it."

"Give me five minutes." Bishop crossed the room. "And trade shirts with me."

Midas obliged without question, and I did not snicker at the swap. Even if it left Bishop wearing a tee that would fool the gwyllgi, for a bit, with Midas's scent and Midas in one that read Mind Your Own Biscuits, and Life will be Gravy.

Through the shadows, Bishop stepped, leaving us alone in HQ. Except for Reece, who resumed ignoring us.

Midas and I never had time to do the little things, like go out to nice dinners or hold hands on long walks. Movies and other couples' activities ended in flames or brawls. Quiet moments like this one were about as close to date nights as we got these days, and there wasn't a whole lot you could do in five minutes at HQ.

Unless you were willing to be recorded and then have that recording played for the whole team on a loop.

Forever.

Probably with popcorn, candy, and other refreshments made available.

The clock ran out as I weighed the pros and cons of selling the rest of my soul for a box of Junior Mints. "Give me video of the stairwell, please."

"Clear," Reece reported without glancing up, but he moved the live feed to a monitor for my benefit.

"Thanks." I grabbed the doorknob and twisted. "Here we go."

Midas let me go first, an impressive feat, one I rewarded with a saucy wink. Knowing my luck, I probably looked like I had something in my eye, but hey. I tried to keep the romance alive.

Creeping down the stairs, I gave him room to shut the door behind him.

With HQ secure once more, I trusted Bishop to rip the magic out of this location as soon as he returned to his command center.

"We need to get clear of the stairwell." Midas breathed in the lingering scents. "We don't want to get pinned here if they don't fall for Bishop's ploy."

"Say no more." I jogged down the stairs. "Race you to the bottom."

Surplus magic from Faerie was the only reason I had a bounce in my step. I was exhausted. I wanted to drop, curl up in a ball, and sleep forever. But I also vibrated with energy, with power, with purpose. It was like I wanted to go to sleep and dream I was a superheroine who saved the world or something, a dream to pull you under but keep your heart pumping.

Midas won the race.

He cheated.

To be fair, he leapt over my head to plant himself in front of me, not from any desire to beat me, but to place himself squarely between me and the lean gwyllgi who emerged from behind the car where he had been hiding out of view.

Magic washed away his furry form and left us facing a tall, slender man as beautiful as Ferro had been. Not that I would admit it aloud. Fae used beauty as a weapon. It was almost expected that the worst among them would also be the most jaw-dropping.

"Midas Kinase," he said, his voice sonorous. "It has been an age since we last met."

"Richter," Midas growled the name. "What business do you have here?"

"You are young, but not ignorant. You won us from Ferro." He spread his hands, taking in the surroundings. "Now, what would you have us do?"

"Hightail it back to Faerie before the Earthen Conclave notices you're here?" I suggested. "I'm not real familiar with them or their rules, but I believe crossing realms is a big no-no." I held up the burner phone and bluffed my butt off. "I've also recently added their tip line for reporting suspicious fae activities to my contacts."

"Ah." Richter peered at me over Midas's shoulder, from a safe distance. "Lady Alpha."

"I have enough titles." I positioned myself beside Midas. "I don't need another."

"Have you no opinion on the matter?" Richter studied Midas. "Or does she speak for you?"

"Your alpha tortured me."

"Former alpha, but yes."

"You watched."

"I did." He turned pensive. "It was a slow year, as I recall."

The casual disregard for another's suffering set my teeth on edge, but I let Midas speak for himself.

"You were a strange half-mortal pup who killed one of our own," Richter continued. "You compounded that mistake when you made a fool's bargain to spare your sister. Why would I have fought my alpha of millennia for you?"

"You viewed a child's suffering as entertainment," Midas countered. "I have no use for men like you."

Richter laughed, actually laughed, at Midas's ire. "I'm not a mortal to be held to your standards."

"All that means is you've had time to learn better," I said, unable to keep out of it, "and you chose to ignore right for wrong."

"I'm not human either." He exhaled. "I don't hide what I am. I have no reason to ape being one."

"I believe," a gentle voice threaded with iron rang out, "what my son means is you lack honor."

Midas and I whipped our heads toward the voice to find Tisdale strolling out of the elevator near the exit stairs, dressed in a mint-green suit. The polite expression smoothing her features contrasted with the murder promised in her eyes, and I was suddenly very glad she was on our side.