Chapter 8

Biting cold ripped the air from my lungs, and the glare of an unfamiliar sun stabbed me in the eyes as it reflected off the untouched snow carpeting the ground for miles in all directions. "W-w-where?"

"I'm not telling," he said, a faint lilt flavoring his voice, "so don't waste your breath asking."

He yanked on my arm, and I was happy to fall in step with him, praying the activity would warm me. The thing I noticed about Bishop, as my teeth chattered and eyelashes sparkled with frost, was the tiny smile on his face as we trudged through the drifts.

The flakes didn't stick to him, so much as they kissed him then slid aside, as if welcoming him home. The touch didn't melt them. I couldn't tell if his skin was that cold, or if it was an odd trick of the light. But what I knew in my bones, what sent Ambrose bounding ahead of us like a hound on the hunt, was that Bishop had brought me into Faerie.

I was in Faerie.

TheFaerie.

And Bishop just…just…walked right in. He traveled this path on a regular basis. He…belonged here.

I mean, duh, I knew he was fae. A fae fae. A Faerie fae. But this demonstration of power staggered me.

What the frak was he? Who the frak was he? What was a power like him doing in Atlanta?

"Almost there," he called back to me without turning.

Bishop angled us toward what appeared to be a teeny mountain. It must have been a million miles away. With flat white all around, I had no reference for scale or distance. I had no clue how long it would take us to get there, and I wasn't sure, if I was being honest, that I would survive in this clime to reach it.

Kicking up snow as he skidded to a halt beside me, Ambrose, still in his hound form, barked once.

And I heard it.

Wait a minute.

The snow. He'd affected it. It dusted my pants. He had weight and heft in this realm. The bark had been real, audible, not another of his mimes. That meant he could change shape and speak to me here. He had a voice. Any question I thought to ask him, he could answer in this place.

Assuming I could con Bishop into bringing me back again.

Questions bubbled up in me for Ambrose, but I couldn't get my lips to cooperate. They were too numb. I had no control over my facial expressions either. All exposed skin was sheeted with thin ice that crackled as I moved, forming and reforming, as if it wanted to frost me into an ice sculpture and keep me as a bright spot of decoration for the barren landscape.

Gulp.

With a whine in his throat, Ambrose leaned against my leg. A subtle warmth filtered through that side of my body until sensation returned to that hand. At his urging, I looped my fingers through his collar, which I shouldn't have been able to feel, and let him feed magic into me until I almost felt normal.

"Thanks," I said when I was able, and it drew Bishop's attention. "He's real here."

"He's always real," Bishop countered, the color leaching from his skin and hair until he began to resemble the landscape. "The difference is, he's soaked up enough ambient energy to manifest. He probably can't do human. Yet. But that size or smaller, yeah. He can make himself tangible."

The glamour Bishop used wasn't a charm, and he always wore it. Always. He was simply so powerful that if he decided to be perceived a certain way, then that was how he would be seen. And here, in his element, he didn't waste effort on dulling the sharp edges of his appearance.

"You didn't think to mention that before you brought me here?"

"He could kill you." Cheer honed his voice into an arctic blade. "He could rip out your throat, lap up your blood, and chew on your bones. But it would kill him. He would die with a full stomach, but he would die all the same."

Anticipating my instinctive recoil from his graphic words, Bishop tightened his grip until the bones in my hand grated against each other.

"None of that." He smiled, his teeth sharp-edged and gleaming. "You're my guest."

A rumbling threat from Ambrose earned an equally vicious snarl from Bishop, but he eased up on me.

Maybe, assuming I survived this, I wouldn't return to bump gums with Ambrose. Or ever again.

Except in my nightmares. Yeah. I could see this place coming back to haunt me.

This version of Bishop terrified me, and I got the sense he would revert deeper into his true self the longer we remained in this place. It called to him, I could almost hear it, a song of ice and endless hunger.

The mountain turned out not to be a mountain but a cluster of figures, each one frozen solid and arranged equidistant in a circle. There was room for one more, and irrational fear coiled in my belly as we raced toward the gap.

This was not my Bishop. I didn't know if I could trust him not to slot me into that hole. But I didn't have much choice. Ambrose herded me there as well. With him pressed against my thigh, I had to stay the course.

Into the macabre ring Bishop sprinted, his light steps no longer disturbing the snow. I stumbled along in his wake, Ambrose urging me onward, and then I got a taste of how it felt to be a thread guided through the eye of a needle.

The warm darkness of shadows welcomed us, and tears of relief froze on my cheeks before they melted. I hit concrete when my knees buckled, and bright fluorescent lights forced my eyes closed against them.

A shiver of fear danced along my spine, an awareness of my vulnerability in the presence of a predator.

Ambrose was a tingle beside me, still in contact with me but no longer real enough to protect me.

"Well, that was an adventure." I sank onto my butt to rest, putting my back against a wall. "How are you doing over there?"

"Clever." Bishop chuckled darkly. "Get me talking so you can pinpoint my location."

"Hey, you fell for it." I wedged my eyes open. "That's one ride I don't want to go on again."

He tapped the delicate skin beneath my chin, forcing my head back, his fingertip a piercing cold so acute I felt certain he must have rammed a stiletto through the bottom of my jaw into my brain.

"I could make you like it," he purred. "I could make you want it."

Mildly shocked to find I wasn't dead, just partially frozen, I met his snow-white eyes. "This isn't you."

"You don't know me." He exhaled, and a cloud of his breath formed between us. "You can't know me."

"You're Bishop." I reached up, so very slowly, and wrapped a hand around his wrist. "You're my friend."

The touch or the words thawed the icy veneer that had encased him during our trek. "I'm sorry, kid."

Not sure it was the smartest thing to do, I drew him into my arms for a hug. "You're fine."

Cold radiated through him, frosting his voice as he whispered, "I could have killed you."

"Nah." I released him. "You like me too much."

A laugh that sounded torn from his chest melted him more.

"Midas will be waiting." He grunted and rose, pulling me up with him. "Still trust me?"

Offering to take me was a show of trust on his part. He knew what would happen to him where we were going, what it would reveal to me of his nature, and he did it anyway. He believed I could handle it, and I wasn't going to let him down. Not when I had been where he was, so many times, terrified of rejection.

"Always."

An expression caught between a smile and a grimace twisted his lips. "Back in five."

"That took five minutes?"

"Not for us, but for everyone else, yeah. One-way is more like two minutes and change."

Time was elastic in pocket realms, or so I always heard, but experiencing it firsthand was bizarre.

Careful how I phrased it, I fumbled a vague question. "Is it always…like that?"

I might have meant it any number of ways, and he could have answered it with just as many truths without homing in on the pertinent one, but he was in a giving mood today. Or an apologetic one.

"It's worse when I've been with…" He ruffled his hair, but there was no snow to shed. "Vasco brings my nature closer to the surface."

Yet another reason for me to keep them apart as much as possible, until or unless Bishop wanted to embrace that radical change in himself, which didn't appear to be the case.

"I don't have trouble controlling my urges here, but there…" He trailed off again. "I want to be the guy you know, the guy you trust, but I'm not always. It's good that you learned the difference."

Stepping into shadows, he vanished from my senses before I could thank him.

Ambrose sat beside me on the floor, in his mostly Hadley shape, staring where Bishop had disappeared. I could tell he wished he could go back. The desire hummed like a live wire between us. Unlike the good old days, he didn't nudge or cajole or act out. He let the moment pass, picked himself up, and extended his hand toward me.

"Funny." I laughed under my breath. "Where are we, anyway?"

The room was small, maybe six feet squared, and empty.

A weirdly familiar door stood before us, but it could have belonged in any business I had ever visited.

"Guess there's only one way to find out." I opened it and stepped through. "Huh."

HQ awaited me on the other side. Bishop must have dumped me in one of his many, many, many supply closets that filled and emptied depending on the day of the week, his mood, and how much time he had spent online shopping the day before.

The man was an Amazon addict. Seriously. His one-clicker was downright spastic.

The command center stood to my left, Bishop's workspace illuminated by Reece and Anca's screens.

No Milo, but he preferred legwork to deskwork, so his absence wasn't unusual.

Two rows of monitors were anchored on the wall, which was painted an unrelieved black. The upper row held four screens, each about thirty-four inches, and they were blank. The lower row mirrored the one above it, but those were always on and flashing surveillance mooched off city cameras as well as our own private mounts.

Tonight, they streamed multiple drone feeds and a cartoon about kids with elemental powers on Netflix.

"Hadley?" Anca's warm voice echoed through the room. "Is that you?"

"It's me." I walked over and commandeered Bishop's seat in the command center. "How's Milo?"

"Safe," she assured me. "He checks in every half hour."

That was protocol, and I was glad he stuck to it like glue when it hit the fan.

Leaning forward, she rubbed the small of her back. "How did you sneak out of the Faraday?"

"I caught a ride with a friend." I left it at that and trusted her to let it go. "Any news?"

"We estimate one hundred and sixty-eight coven members are scattered throughout the city at present, but we can't be certain," she reported. "Based on the frequency of new arrivals, our best guess is they bring groups of twelve through the archive every half hour."

About the time I digested that unhappy math, Midas exited through the same closet door I had left ajar.

Ten years' worth of frown lines creased his forehead, and his inner predator stared out through his eyes. Muscles flexed in his jaw as he clamped his teeth together, but I could hear his growl from here. Nostrils flared wide, he located me by scent, and the worst tension flowed out of his shoulders.

Safe to say, based on his ominous expression, his journey hadn't been a walk in the park either.

Bishop entered HQ on Midas's heels, tugged a toolbox off a shelf, then retreated to the closet.

"I'm heading back to the Faraday," he announced, not meeting our eyes. "See you in an hour."

"Bishop," I shouted to be certain he heard me. "Make no apologies."

"Survive," he rasped, and then he was gone, swallowed by shadows that seemed darker somehow.

After Bishop left, Midas clenched and released his fists. He might have been working his joints to warm them, but I got the feeling he was fighting the urge to snatch me and run.

"Welcome to HQ." I pleaded with my gaze for him to put a pin in this, and he took the hint. "I'm Hadley, Assistant Potentate of Atlanta, and I'll be your official guide to the Office of the Potentate."

Whoa.

Flashbacks to leading ghost tours deep into the Savannah night lit up my memory.

Ah, the good old days.

Back when no one was trying to murder me.

"These are the guys." I led him into the control room then made a sweeping gesture. "Say hi, guys."

Reece ignored my shenanigans, as usual, but Anca dutifully chimed, "Hi, guys."

Too bad Milo was still in the field. He would have sold the joke. He and Anca played well off each other.

"You two don't seem surprised to see Midas." I frowned. "I expected more get off my lawn threats."

"Bishop put it to a vote months ago," Reece said, head bent over his keyboard. "The motion to grant Midas access in the event of an emergency passed unanimously."

"If this isn't an emergency," Anca agreed, "then I shudder to think what would qualify."

"Besides," Reece added, "once he leaves, it's not like he can find his way back."

The dry tone of his zinger left me wondering if Reece had just cracked a joke.

I laughed to be on the safe side, which Midas neither understood nor appreciated, so I ducked my head.

"This is Reece." I pointed to his screen, and then I indicated hers. "This is Anca."

"It's nice to meet you both." Midas gave a subtle nod. "I appreciate the work you do protecting Hadley."

Elbowing him in the ribs, I corrected him. "He means the city."

"No," Anca said, laughing. "He means exactly what he said."

"Statistically," Reece confirmed, "he cares for his pack above everything else. You're his mate, and therefore pack. Instances where he's prioritized the city only happen in conjunction with cases you work together or when you ask him outright to render aid."

Huh.

As much as Midas worried his cultural mores kept me off balance, always tilting toward his own beliefs, I had similar concerns. I assumed he was fighting for the same reasons as me, and he was, but on a smaller scale. I never once stopped to ask myself if he would have interceded on Atlanta's behalf without me to haul him stumbling into danger for the greater good.

Phrased like that, yeah. Probably not. Being the pack prince and all.

"I wrapped the background check you requested," Reece muttered, already distracted, "on Lily Valley."

About to ask who, or maybe what, I flashed to the only such request I had made in days.

"That's her name?" I pictured Remy's friend and decided it fit. "As in Lily of the Valley?"

"Fae often adopt names that reflect their powers or aspects of their appearance," Anca said. "Though it is interesting that she chose that plant to represent her."

"She turns into a lily." It seemed obvious, which meant it wasn't. "What am I missing?"

"Lily of the Valley isn't a true lily." She hummed. "Actually, I believe it's part of the asparagus family."

Mmm.

Asparagus.

Cooked with bacon, it was delicious, and cooking Lily was the next best thing to cannibalism.

Get with the program, stomach. I'll feed you…eventually.

Its pathetic rumble of doubt guilted me for having no immediate plans to hold up my end of the deal.

"Maybe she doesn't know?" Just like I hadn't known. "Or maybe she's punny?" I had to respect anyone able to laugh at themselves. "What's the dirt on her?"

I waited, and waited, and waited.

Not a single huff, snicker, or chuckle.

Sheesh.

Tough crowd.

"There is no dirt. There's no soil in which to dig." Reece flung a copy of her Faraday application on one of the lower screens. "Her previous addresses, the ones that are legit, belong to abandoned buildings. The rest are in vague proximity to fast food restaurants."

"Remy did say she met her on the streets," I told him, but I heard the doubt in my voice.

"That would explain her previous living situation, but she's got no references. No family, friends, or jobs. Aside from Remy."

"Could she be here illegally?" I chewed on my bottom lip. "That would explain why she's grifting."

"Two-thirds of the fae population of Atlanta are here illegally."

And that right there explained why the Society hadn't had kittens over the number of fae in the city. The Society tended to ignore all factions outside of their own. When they did get curious, rather than looking around them, they relied on official reports. They believed all they did was right, good, and proper and that everyone respected paperwork as much as they did, but no. Most of us had better things to do, thanks.

"They're fleeing persecution," Anca murmured. "But it's not only the innocent who book passage between realms. There are predators as well, wolves in sheep's clothing. They follow their food source."

Up to this point, I had tried to avoid fae entanglements whenever possible. Granted, it hadn't been possible to avoid much given the witchborn fae coven's determination to own this city or die trying to claim her. But I had to do better.

I couldn't say I did my job if I didn't also protect the fae living here. Without the Earthen Conclave's sanction, they had no one. They existed in a gray area that would get them killed without aid.

I hadn't been appointed only to police the earthborn species. The entire city, and all her citizens, fell within my purview. I had to banish the fear of having my knuckles rapped for interfering with fae business and develop a strategy, with or without help from the Earthen Conclave.

Their job was to govern fae this side of Faerie, and they were falling down on the job. I wasn't holding my breath for a miracle—I learned a long time ago you were more likely to suffocate—but my friends had taught me I could make my own luck.

I had a plan, and it was a doozy.

It ought to insulate me from the worst of any fallout that might come from asking for their assistance, but I wasn't ready to pitch the idea yet. I had a few more pieces to fit into place locally before I presented my case to a foreign ruling body.

Flashing crimson smudges on his palms, Midas asked, "Do you have somewhere I can wash my hands?"

The stain was blood. I didn't require a gwyllgi nose to figure out that much. It was just as apparent he had no intention of telling me who it belonged to or how it got there. But I could guess, and I tried to stay out of his dustups with Bishop.

"Sure." I took Midas's hand, which was warm and strong, and guided him. "The kitchen is this way."

"The kitchen is a common area," Reece reminded me. "There are antibacterial wipes under the sink. Use them."

"Midas didn't pop in a for a quickie." I wiggled my eyebrows at Midas. "Or did he?"

Anca chortled, a merry sound, and covered her mouth with her hand as I led him away.

The set of his lips informed me a handwashing wasn't all he was after in requesting a semiprivate room out of view of the monitors.

"We're going to practice the whole carving out time to talk in the middle of a crisis, yes?"

"Yes." His gait remained stiff, his expression dark. "I think that's wise."

"Give me a second." I dipped a hand into the cross-body bag, retrieved the jar of ink and a brush, then painted a circle around the table. I shooed Midas onto a seat and then closed it around us. "They'll be able to see us, but they can't hear us." I studied one of many cameras, this one nestled in the corner of the room. "Fair warning, I'm willing to bet Reece can lip-read or code a program to do it for him."

Elbows on the table, Midas beckoned me closer with a crooked finger.

Mirroring his position, I sat and leaned in until his bristled cheek rubbed mine.

"Bishop," he whispered, his hands easing under my hair to cradle the back of my head.

"Yeah." I returned the gesture, scratching his scalp with my fingernails. "That was…intense."

"Does Linus know who he's hiding?"

"I don't know." I angled my mouth toward his ear. "I don't know who he is either, do you?"

"No," he breathed, "and that worries me more than what he is, which we also don't know."

"Bishop is my friend."

"Bishop is more than your friend."

"I'm more than Hadley," I argued. "You're more than Midas."

"Hadley." He sighed my name, but there was so much love in the sound it was hard to take offense.

"We both have predatory natures." I kept hammering away at him. "Who are we to judge his dark side because it scared the bejeepers out of ours?"

"You understand where he took us."

"Yes."

"You understand it's no different than how the coven travels, only on a smaller scale?"

"No?"

Until he mentioned it, I hadn't viewed it in that light. I had assumed we were in Faerie-Faerie, not an offshoot or pocket realm or whatever the kids were calling it these days. But Midas would know the difference. If he said Bishop's wintry road was a construct of his making and not a naturally occurring path, I believed him.

"You're not worried there's a connection there?"

"Between Bishop and the coven?" I snorted. "Um, no."

"How can you be sure?"

"Monsters don't care that they're monsters. Bishop was ashamed of who he became in that place. He left rather than face me."

"The coven loves theatrics," he countered, but without heat. "It could have been for show."

One of us needed to remain objective, so I didn't blame Midas for preventing me from compartmentalizing away what I didn't want to see or hear. He forced me to look, to see, to think. And, as much as it hurt, I was grateful for it.

"You saw him," I said quietly. "Do you think it was for show?"

Midas was silent for a few seconds before he shook his head. "No."

"I'll have Reece test him." I kissed Midas's cheek to show there were no hard feelings. "Just to be on the safe side."

It was the smart thing to do, the necessary response, but it would wound Bishop. He had given me a glimpse of himself, his true self, and my response was to jab him with a needle the same as I would any potential enemy.

But,I reminded myself, ourfriends and allies get tested daily too.

I wasn't singling him out.

Sure, I wasn't.

Goddess, I hated the coven.

Aside from my mother, I wasn't sure I had hated anyone in my life, but these guys definitely ranked.

"Moment over." He breathed me in and then withdrew. "We need to start planning for the archive."

"Yeah." I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. "We have to figure out how to sever it from Buckhead."

We rose in unison, and I smudged the line to lower the circle so the others could hear us again.

"Oh good." Remy strolled in wearing a lime-green tutu over a white jumpsuit sparkling with sequins and red-orange combat boots to complement the lily still in her hair. "I was starting to think you wanted privacy."

Frowning, I asked, "Why does everyone think Midas showed up at my job for a quickie?"

For the first time ever, we had an outsider at HQ. Okay, fine. Not the first time, Remy was proof of that, but still. Did they not know me at all? Bad example. Did they not know Bishop at all? He would never allow a lapse in protocol for the sake of a make-out session.

"You haven't told her she stinks of eau de Midas, eh?" Remy pegged Midas with a knowing stare. "Everyone can tell exactly how mated you two are lately."

Embarrassment stung my cheeks, and I debated hiding in the empty storage closet, anything to avoid having this conversation. I settled for rushing to wipe up the ink with paper towels and spray cleaner.

Eyes crinkling at the corners, Midas read my unease and attempted to rein in his amusement. I could tell he was quite proud of himself. It made me want to thump his ear. But, I suppose, knowing wouldn't have saved me from alerting every gwyllgi in sniffing distance how we spent our alone time.

The heads-up would have only mortified me that much sooner and resulted in a relapse of using the fire escape to get in and out of the building without being noticed—or smelled—by the pack.

Deftly changing the topic, Midas asked, "Any clue how we implode the archive?"

"You can't without swaying a witchborn fae to your cause. Even then, you would need hundreds of them to overpower the spell keeping that place humming. It's ancient, full of power, and used on the regular." Remy moved around the small kitchen, helping herself to a bowl of cereal. "The best you can do is sever its connection here."

"The coven would just move it somewhere else." I followed her example and poured Midas and myself sugary bowls of fruity loops with a splash of milk. "They could anchor it outside of town and do as much damage or more." I took a bite, and before I knew it, the bowl was empty. Midas pressed his into my hands and went to make another for himself. "We can't dump the archive in someone else's lap anyway. It's unneighborly."

"So cut its cords all around." She slurped her pinkish milk. "Leave it adrift."

"Do pocket realms work that way?" I didn't say no to a third bowl when Midas gave me his fresh one too. A glare from me as I handed him the other empty warned him he better eat the next one or I was spoon-feeding it to him. "Can you cut them loose?"

"There are stories of entire worlds the fae created for their own amusement, grew bored with, then basically lost the keys to, only for someone else to rediscover the place centuries later by accident." An amused expression crossed her face. "Of course, then bloody wars were fought between the person who discovered this new world full of treasures and the person who forgot it existed but wanted their toy back rather than let someone else play with it."

"You're saying we can cut it loose, but that someone else might find it later?"

"Assuming the archive works the way Vasco claims. I would have to enter it to tell for certain."

As a creature of deepest Faerie, and a rare one at that, a dunk in the archive ought to be along the same lines as Remy dipping her toe into familiar waters. It was also not Faerie, but an offshoot created and maintained by the coven. That dark origin might affect her more than me, who already had a blight on my soul. In addition to the fact I had two souls, essentially, sharing space in my body.

Thanks to Ambrose, I was topped out spiritually. The souls harvested by the coven and stored in the archive couldn't enter my body. I didn't have enough room left. The same might not apply to Remy, and I didn't want to find that out the hard way.

Careful not to insult her delicate pride, I hedged, "Do you think that's safe?"

"I have a lot of soul." She grinned, cereal in her teeth. "As long as I go in fully loaded and don't split myself too far apart for too long, I should be fine."

"You should be fine?" I rubbed my arms, recalling the photos of that yawning void, the ravenous creatures who inhabited the place. "That's living dangerously, don't you think?"

Stubborn glare on her face, she swept her gaze up and down me. "You're going in, right?"

"Yeah." I carried my bowl to the sink while Midas finished his. "Vasco gave me the okay."

"Do you really think we're going to let you go in alone?"

"I hadn't gotten that far," I admitted, washing and drying it. "I was still working on that part."

"That's because your plans suck."

"They do not."

"They always go something like this." She pretended to shade her eyes against a nonexistent glare. "I'm going to locate the bomb," she said in a syrupy drawl. "Oh! There it is." She pointed a finger. "Let me throw myself on top of it." She flung herself into a chair. "Now everyone will be safe." She put a hand to her mouth. "Except me. Oops. Hope I don't die!"

"Work on your Southern accent," I grumbled. "That doesn't sound like me."

"She's right." Midas refused to quail under my glare. "You have done that, literally, several times."

"There was only the one time." I heaved a sigh. "The others don't count."

The bomb in my old apartment had taken me by surprise, so that one wasn't my fault.

The bomb at the restaurant after the wake was an OPA-approved trap, so not totally my fault.

The bomb in the pit during the skirmish with the coven, okay, that was pretty much all my fault.

By my math, I was a victim two out of three times. That practically made me innocent, in my opinion.

"A dozen coven members are exiting vans on the corner of Peachtree Street Northeast and Spring Street Northwest," Reece reported from the other room. "They're receiving backpacks and their marching orders." A tick, tick, tick filtered to me followed by a click. "Countdown to the next group begins…now."

"I recommend you be in position before the next batch exits the archive," Anca added softly, aware how her voice carried in the small space. "The drive to Buckhead will take that long, but if you beat them, you can set your phone's timer to make sure you don't cross paths with anyone while you're in the archive."

There was a quicker way to reach the warehouse, but Midas's grim expression told me he wanted to risk traveling Bishop's winter road again about as much as he wanted to get waxed in his other form. Our saving grace was, if we burned him out, he couldn't bring our backup to us. That gave us a valid excuse for avoiding that trek twice in one night.

"Good thing I drove," Remy said, pulling me out of my thoughts. "We'll plan the nitty-gritty on the way."

Leaving a clean kitchen behind us, we entered the control room to join the conversation in progress.

"What should we bring with us?" I checked with Midas. "What do you suggest?"

Time moved differently in Faerie, and then differently again from Faerie in its individual pocket realms, a phenomenon I experienced firsthand with Bishop earlier. What would it mean for hunger? Thirst? Other biological requirements? Would our bodies stay on track with this time zone? Quicken? Slow? Pause?

"There are backpacks stocked with energy bars, water, power banks, and basic survival gear in the first closet on the right." Anca pointed in the general direction. "Bring one for each of you."

"I'll get them," Remy volunteered. "Six, right?"

"Six works." A spare never hurt anyone. "Unless…do your other selves require their own?"

"Nah." She patted her stomach. "It all goes to the same place."

"Anything else?" I tugged my hair back into a loose tail. "Weapons? Clean undies? Prayers?"

"We have no idea what's down there," Midas rumbled. "Less might be more in this case."

"Lighter packs make for faster sprinting." Remy agreed. "We shouldn't be gone longer than a day."

"A day?" I flung out an arm to steady myself against Midas. "A whole day?"

"Chill," Remy soothed. "That much time won't pass out here."

For all our sakes, I hoped she was right. The odds were fifty/fifty, to my way of thinking, for or against us.

"There are other exits," Reece reminded us. "Worst-case scenario, get out wherever and however you can."

The other tethers. Right. We would have to snip those too. The last one could still be an emergency exit.

"You can always resupply and reenter if you must," Anca agreed. "Your safety is our priority."

As much as it warmed me to hear her say so, I had to disagree. I was the least important variable here.

As we finalized our plans, I found my attention sliding to the closet. "Remy?"

No answer.

Surely Anca would have sent Remy off with a map or a compass if the room was a jungle.

"Remy?" I crossed the room and reached for the knob. "Did you get lost in there?"

The door swung open before I could do the honors, and she barreled past me. "Get moving, slowpoke."

Keys in her hand, Remy bounded out of HQ, and we followed her downstairs into a parking deck.

"I'm one block over at Peachtree Parking Deck. Since I don't rate access to the Faraday's private lot, I figured I might as well invest in a monthly pass near home." She jingled as she walked, the contents of the packs jostling against her back. "We just need to be careful…"

The stink hit Midas first, and he coughed from the reek, but it caught up to me soon enough.

"Phew." I tugged the collar of my shirt up over my nose. "Did a sewer line break, or what?"

"You can't feel it?" Remy turned a slow circle. "I bet your shadow senses it."

True to her prediction, Ambrose had decided to make his presence known, and he was jittery from the ambient energy in the air. It trickled over into me like a hit of caffeine and strung me out right there with him.

"Black magic." I recognized the flavor, for lack of a better word. "Lots of it."

Guilt tightened my throat, and I felt like a coward even though I was running toward danger and not away from it. I hadn't bonded to Atlanta in the magical sense, not as her potentate, but I had come to love her during my apprenticeship, and it tore me up to leave while she was in danger.

Midas vibrated with tension by the time we reached the parking garage, his inner beast growling steadily.

"Third level." Remy pointed up the ramp. "First one there gets to ride shotgun."

Midas and I exchanged a look, but neither of us sprinted after her, and we both smiled at the same time.

Remy scowled as if we had wounded her by not wanting the copilot's seat, but come on. If you've ever watched a movie or TV show set in space where the ship engages its warp engines or hyperdrive or whatever, and the stars streak past the viewscreen in solid lines, you can imagine the view when Remy drives through downtown at night.

The fleeting moment of levity passed, and we jogged to catch up to Remy at her lime-green car.

Insulted, she shoved us both into the backseat and let the backpacks take shotgun.

Neither of us complained.

Even as she cranked her radio up through the roof to punish us.

After touching base with Bishop, I yelled at Midas over the noise, "Have you updated your mom?"

"Doing it now." His thumbs flew over the screen. "Any news from Bishop?"

His temporary relocation to the Faraday from HQ was messing with my head, and my heart.

As much as the enforcers needed his help, I hoped he hadn't decided to retreat there to avoid me.

"He says the numbers on the roof have leveled off, but now there's movement on the ground."

The news didn't appear to surprise Midas, so I assumed his people were telling him the same.

"The enforcers on patrol are reporting unusual crowds in downtown."

When a native Atlantan labels a crowd as unusual, it's saying something. Crowds are commonplace, what with the tourist attractions. Folks who endure Dragon Con each year don't bat an eye at gatherings numbering in the thousands when the con can bring in upwards of eighty-five thousand people in full costume who spend five days living their best geek lives within a few blocks of one another.

"So far, the coven is showing no signs of aggression." He lowered his phone. "Mom's going to call you."

A breath hitched in my chest at his serious tone. "All right."

The background noise quieted, and I could hear myself think again.

Midas stared at his hand, and I couldn't guess at the thoughts moving behind his eyes.

When my cell vibrated, I hesitated to answer it, but I had no real choice. "Hi."

"This is Alpha Tisdale Kinase," she said formally. "I'm requesting a moment of your time."

Official OPA business then.

Double gulp.

"I can spare a minute." I stared out the window until the motion flipped my gut. "What do you need?"

"I would like to request your permission to deploy more enforcers throughout the city."

A heavy pack presence could do as much harm as good if the citizens got it in their heads the pack had the ability to enforce martial law in a city overseen by a potentate, even if I wasn't it. Yet. This was a line I had been inching toward for a while now, and as much as I hated to turn down help, I couldn't step over it.

The ghost tour gig had taught me how to handle people. Time to put those years of soothing irate customers who got pissed when no ghosts showed up on their tours to work. Not that Tisdale was mad. But she did want what I couldn't give her. Turning on my professional guide voice, I dusted off my rusty bargaining skills.

"I regret to decline your generous offer, but I will grant you two dozen enforcers within the city limits." If I didn't specify those were in addition to the enforcers who lived downtown, or the ones already on duty, I could be forgiven the oversight. "However, you must inform your people that I will also allow representatives from the Clairmont pack, the Loup Garous, and the Kingsman lion pack to assist me."

There were several vampire clans in the area I could also petition, but they tended not to get involved in outside squabbles. The average vampire feared true death too much to risk so much as a hangnail in life.

Undead life, but whatever.

"I'll let my people know." I heard the smile in her voice. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Whitaker."

Within seconds of ending the call, she texted me a row of hearts and the simple words I'm proud of you.

Warmth unspooled through my chest, and I cradled the emotion growing there gently, afraid I might crush it before it fully bloomed.

So, this is how it feels to have a mom who loves you.

It was weird. Nice. Really weird. But…yeah…nice.

Remy met my gaze in the rearview mirror. "Have you got any of that lined up, Miss Potentate, ma'am?"

"Nope." I almost dropped the phone my palms were so slick. "I'm about to start making calls."

"Woohoo." She punched the gas. "Time to wheel and deal."

"Kill the radio." I swallowed a few times to hold down those bowls of cereal I was starting to regret. "We don't need these alphas to know we're sending our distress signal on the run."

Midas rested his palm on my thigh, and tingles spread from that contact. "You got this."

With the Kinase family stamp of approval, how could I go wrong?