Chapter 1

Chapter

One

T he thing about my dreams was, they almost always came true. The five or so percent that didn't were generally real dreams—ones based on wants, desires, or even fears—rather than being prophetic.

This one had me walking barefoot through a forest—I mean, why? It was summer, for God's sake, and snakes abounded, even at night. The air was warm and alive with golden threads that danced around me, a firestorm of power that was mine to use even if it would never belong to me. A figure padded lightly beside me, two more behind, and another two whose weight I could feel through the earth but could not see were moving toward us from the other side of this woodland.

Light of a different kind filtered through the trees ahead. It wasn't moonlight or even firelight, but something far darker.

Mage fire.

A deeply dangerous purple fire that could kill with just a touch.

And I knew, without knowing how, that its source was a vampire almost as old as time itself.

Fear slithered through me, and there was a part of my brain screaming that I needed to wake, that I didn't want to see what lay ahead. But these dreams were always relentless.

I walked on, feet barely touching the ground, the soil under my toes warm and filled with an energy as sharp as the air. The closer I moved to the deadly light, the more dread grew, until my heart raced fiercely and every breath was a short, sharp explosion of fear.

I moved through trees wilting under the glow of the mage fire into a clearing that held neither life nor death, and yet wasn't empty.

A man—a naked man—lay in the middle of a dark pentagram. Black candles burned at each of the cardinal points, but they weren't the source of the deadly mage fire, nor was the large protection circle surrounding the pentagram. In the three-foot scrap of ground between the two, creatures roamed. Creatures that were wispy and insubstantial, yet all teeth and talons.

The man in the middle of the pentagram was pale of skin and thin to the point of emaciation. His legs and arms were spread-eagled, each limb pinned to the ground by wooden stakes driven through his flesh. Thick, red veins of poison extended away from each entry point, suggesting those stakes were white ash—a wood historically deadly to vampires.

This man wasn't a vampire, but he was the next best thing—a thrall, beings who'd dined on the flesh of their mistress or master, thereby receiving eternal life in exchange for eternal service.

He also wasn't a stranger. This was Roger, who was not only Maelle's thrall, but also, in many respects, her sanity. Our resident vampire was already walking a tightrope of control after Roger had barely survived two previous attempts on his life. Of course, she was also the cause of one of those near-death experiences. She'd physically drained his energy to the point of death after my mad—and now very dead—ex had bombed her nightclub and almost killed her. A third, this time successful, attempt on Roger's life would definitely end whatever grip on sanity she had.

I stopped well beyond the protection circle and the creatures that roamed within it and waited to see if Roger lived or not.

After several long seconds, his chest rose a fraction. It was enough to indicate life; thralls already walked the twilight world, and there was plenty of debate as to whether they actually needed to breathe.

The dream forced me closer. The insubstantial creatures bared teeth and prowled back and forth, red eyes gleaming with hunger. Spirit eaters, instinct whispered, not flesh.

I shivered and rubbed nonexistent arms.

Shadows moved on the other side of the clearing, and a figure stepped into view. She was small and dainty, with golden hair curled on the top of her head to resemble a crown. She looked no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, but she was far older. Centuries older.

This was Marie Nicolete Bouchier, who was not only Maelle's former lover and her maker, but a dark mage even more powerful than Maelle.

I knew then this wasn't just a prophetic dream. She'd called me here. Or, more precisely, called my spirit here. How or why, I had no idea, but it scared the hell out of me.

Because I couldn't wake. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn't. The dream's grip remained far too tight.

And would, I knew, until she'd said whatever she'd called me here for.

I flexed my fingers and tried to remain calm. I was still wearing the protection charms around my neck, even in this dream, and the multiple spells and wild magic layered within them burned against nonexistent skin. It was acting against whatever magic was at work here, even if it wasn't strong enough to prevent it. And Marie, for all her power, was not a spirit eater.

Of course, the things that roamed that three-foot strip of barren ground were . But if she'd intended them to consume my soul, surely she would have simply sent them directly into my dreams rather than keeping them leashed like this.

They were a warning, nothing more.

I stopped just short of the protection circle. Its energy burned over me, a dark and dangerous blanket that could smother in an instant. Goose bumps prickled, and my heartbeat leapt, becoming a fierce drumbeat that echoed across the clearing's silence.

From the other side of the flames came Marie's soft laugh.

"Ah," she said, her voice soft, melodious, and very heavily French accented. "Human fear. It is such a delicious sound."

I flexed my fingers again. Heat pressed against their tips but didn't spark around them as it would have in the real world—perhaps because she didn't know about it. I doubted the wild magic that had initially accompanied me in this dream—or nightmare, or whatever the hell it actually was—could be used because it, like the shadows who'd padded beside and behind me, hadn't entered this clearing. But my inner wild magic—which had fused to my DNA after Mom had been sent to contain and protect a newly emerging wellspring when she'd been unknowingly pregnant with me—could not be curtailed so easily, even by someone as powerful as her.

And that press of heat said it was here with me now.

Of course, it did mean that, unless she'd lured me here to kill me, I also couldn't use it. It would reveal too much about me, and she already knew far too much, thanks to her recent mind invasion of the man who lay in her circle.

But again, I doubted her intent was to kill. Not tonight, at any rate.

"Why have you called me here, Marie?"

She raised a pale eyebrow. "She speaks."

"You'd prefer I didn't?"

"That is always my preference, yes. Listening to victims whine is not only tedious but can ultimately spoil the pleasure of a meal."

"Then I will definitely speak a whole lot more."

She laughed and waved a pale hand, the movement eloquent. Regal. Long before she'd come into this reservation seeking bloody revenge on Maelle, I'd had a vision of her sitting on a throne of dark red velvet. At the time, I thought it meant she was royalty, and in some respects I hadn't been wrong. She was the queen—the maker—of her coven.

Until Maelle had all but erased it in a fit of bloody fury, of course.

"False courage is always preferable to whining, so please do."

"Are you going to tell me what you want? Or are we just going to throw threats at each other for a few minutes and then go our separate ways?"

Her responding smile was warm and friendly, and it chilled me to the core. "I gave you a warning not to interfere?—"

"Technically," I cut in, probably unwisely, "that warning came from Jaqueline rather than your good self."

"She and I speak as one."

"Do you, though? She's Maelle's child by birth, even if yours by rebirth. Bloodlines always matter."

It hadn't for me when it came to one of my parents, of course, but she wasn't to know that. Unless, of course, that was one of the things she'd pulled from Roger's mind. Maelle seemed to know entirely too much about me and my family.

"If you are trying to rile me, you will not succeed. It is also not very wise, especially when I hold you in this walking dream."

"Do you, though?" I repeated, and called to the power within. With a flick of my fingers, I willed myself onto the other side of the fire, standing six feet away from her.

If only it was that easy to break out of this goddamn dream.

Surprise flitted briefly through her expression before her scary-as-fuck smile fell back into place. "Interesting. I had not thought you capable of such a feat, especially when your connection to the wild magic has been curtailed. I shall have to ramp up my defenses."

Not what I'd intended, but still… "Underestimating those within this reservation would be a big mistake, Marie."

Her gaze swept me, cool and amused. "Oh, I am well aware of what this reservation is and isn't capable of. Dear Roger gave me a great deal of useful information in that regard."

"Dear Roger" hadn't done so willingly. She'd used a telepath to trample through his memories, not only ripping everything vital from his brain but setting him up to attack us. Belle—who was not only my best friend and familiar, but also one of the strongest telepaths around—had prevented the latter but neither she nor even Maelle had been able to fully restore all of his memories. Though, to be honest, I think Maelle only cared about the ones involving her.

I crossed my arms, aware it could be seen as a defensive gesture—and perhaps it was. The cold amusement rolling from her certainly had more goose bumps crawling across nonexistent skin. But it was also very necessary. The heat pressing at my fingers was growing, as was the need to unleash.

Restraint, restraint , I intoned to myself.

I'd already shown her I was not as enthralled by this dreaming spell as she'd hoped. That was more than enough.

"To yet again repeat my earlier question," I said, somehow managing to keep my voice flat and without emotion. "What do want with me, Marie? Or did you just call me here to impress me with your power? Because, granted, I am impressed, but it won't stop me from coming after you."

"Courage. I do like it." She waved eloquently toward Roger. "We both know that he is her sanity. Tell her that she has twenty-four hours to present herself to our court of justice or I will kill him and then destroy her."

"And this court of justice? Are you going to give me an address or are we just leaving it to chance and guesswork?"

"She will know where to meet. She has always known."

With that, I was sent tumbling out of her dream and back into reality.

And woke, gasping and shaking, wrapped in arms that were warm and familiar. Aiden . He didn't say anything. He knew well enough there was no waking me while the dreams held me in their grip, and little point in offering meaningless words of comfort after.

I drew in a shuddering breath, then turned and pressed my cheek against his bare chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart and drawing in the warm, musky scent of him, which was tinged with just the faintest hint of fresh paint—the latter coming more from the bedroom's air than his skin. This house—which he'd inherited from his grandfather—was in the midst of a complete internal renovation. In fact, this bedroom and its en suite were the only really useable rooms in the house, and even in here the walls still needed their final coat of paint and there was no furniture aside from this boat-sized bed. Aiden had been doing the renovations in his spare time over the last few months—without telling me, of course, because hey, why would he? It wasn't like he'd intended this place to be our home once we'd married or anything…

The thought had me smiling. Alpha werewolves weren't big on sharing emotions or intentions until absolutely necessary, and it had taken me splitting up with him and then heading to Canberra for a couple of weeks before he finally admitted to himself and to me just how deeply he loved me.

Of course, having made the decision to fully include me in his entire life, not just on the periphery, he basically went in all guns blazing. He'd not only asked me to marry him, but had confronted his alpha bitch of a mother and then his whole damn pack, demanding I be allowed to live within the reservation.

The resulting vote had fallen in our favor, and said bitch was no longer the other pack alpha. While it was a position that normally went to the alpha's mate, I was a witch rather than a wolf and couldn't realistically speak on their behalf or vote at the reservation's council meetings. I had, however, been allowed to pick a suitable proxy.

I'd chosen his sister, Ciara.

His mom had hated that. And me even more.

It would certainly make living within the pack's compound very interesting over the next couple of months, especially when there were factions within the five different bloodlines making up the O'Connor pack who'd sided with Karleen when it came to my presence amongst them.

As my breathing evened out, Aiden kissed the top of my head and then said, in a voice that was rumbly and warm, "Would you like a coffee? Or maybe a hot chocolate?"

"The latter is always appreciated." I brushed the sweaty strands of hair from my face and scanned his sharp but lovely features. Faint shadows lined his blue eyes, but that was due more to the long hours we'd been spending working on this place than my dreams keeping him awake. Still … I grimaced and added, "Sorry for waking you so damn early."

"I accepted long ago that my life with you was never going to be boring." A smile tugged at his luscious lips. "As for sleep, well, you're pregnant with our daughter, so I'd best get used to having none of it."

I laughed. "I'd rather spend the next seven and a half months stocking up on sleep, thank you very much."

"The dreams obviously didn't get that memo."

No, they fucking didn't.

He swung his legs off the bed and padded naked toward the main room, where we'd set up a camp kitchen. I took a moment to admire the sheer perfection of the man—like all wolves, he was built lean but powerful, with a V-shaped torso that drew the eye down to a butt made for jeans, and lovely long legs that could run all day through a forest or fully support a woman when her back was pressed against the wall, her legs were wrapped around his waist, and she was riding him hard and fast…

Desire stirred anew, and there was a part of me—a big, will-never-get-enough-of-the-man part—that wanted to drag him back into bed and make love until the last wisps of the dream were erased from my mind.

But the clock was counting down, and we couldn't afford to waste a minute of it, let alone several hours. I sighed, reached for my phone, and called Maelle. The call rang for several seconds, then flipped over to her message service.

"Maelle, this is Lizzie Grace. I need to talk to you urgently. Please ring me back ASAP." I paused. "If I don't hear from you in half an hour, I'm driving over to see you."

I waited a few more heartbeats to see if she picked up. Her nightclub had yet to reopen, but I had no doubt she'd be there, either marshalling the workers or feeding from her menagerie of "kept" men and women. Unless she was in the middle of one such session, she should have answered. That she hadn't worried the hell out of me.

I dropped my phone onto the bed, then pushed the sheet off my legs and padded out to the longhouse's large main living room. An oversized stone chimney dominated the center of the room, separating what would eventually be our kitchen-diner from the living area. There were four rooms on the other side of the building—three bedrooms and what would be a bathroom. The bedrooms had all been plastered but needed new flooring and painting, while the bathroom, like the kitchen, was little more than a shell.

Aiden had lit the two-burner camp stove we were using until our kitchen was installed and was pouring milk into a pot. The glow coming from the embers in the nearby fireplace warmed his skin and highlighted the silver in his dark golden hair. The O'Connors were silver wolves, though their coloring could range from complete silver to a muddy blond. These days I actually looked more like a wolf than a witch—hair wise anyway, because I was not, and never would be, built lean—after full immersion in the wellspring had turned my once crimson-colored hair to full silver. Aside from one lone stubborn streak in my fringe, anyway.

I trailed my fingers across his butt cheeks, and the scent of desire instantly stung the air.

"Tease," he said.

"Says the master of that art."

I opened the bread and popped a couple of slices into the toaster. It might be three in the morning, but I was hungry—a seemingly constant state for me these days. Being pregnant had certainly increased my appetite, though thankfully it hadn't yet affected my waistline. But it was early days yet.

Amusement danced through his eyes. "I didn't hear any complaints earlier this evening."

"And likely will never. That doesn't alter the fact."

He laughed and picked up a spoon to stir the milk and prevent a skin forming while it heated up, though his amusement quickly faded. "What was the dream about? It looked pretty nasty from my side of things."

"It was." I grimaced and gave him a bare-bones rundown. "We've twenty-four hours before Marie unleashes the hell that will be Maelle without Roger."

"I heard you leave her a message—are we going down there if she doesn't reply?"

"What's this ‘we' business? You have work in the morning."

"You seriously think I'm not going to accompany my wife-to-be?—"

"Said wife-to-be is well able to protect herself."

"I'm aware of that?—"

" This is one of those moments we discussed, you know."

Confusion flickered briefly across his expression. "What moments?"

"A ‘going all alpha wolf, must protect mate,' moment."

He rolled his eyes, poured the frothing milk into the cups, then dumped a couple of spoons of chocolate into each. "I'm being sensible. Marie targeted you with that dream. It may well be a trap—a means of drawing you out of the compound so she can grab you."

"It wasn't. If she can draw me to her in a dream despite the spells I've set up around this longhouse, she could have undoubtedly just walked in here and grabbed me. It was a show of strength, nothing more."

"For now."

"Yes. Hopefully we can find and stop her before that becomes a problem."

"Things have never been that easy before, and I suspect it won't be so in this case." He stirred the chocolate in and slid a mug over to me. "It might be better if we stay full-time at the café—at least until this idiotic vampire war is over."

I picked up the drink and took a sip. "That will mean you putting up with my shower."

He smiled. "I can put up with almost anything when you're by my side."

"You say this now, but you'll be complaining when you bang your elbow on the shower glass for the umpteenth time."

"If I'm banging you when it happens, I assure you I won't."

I snorted and threw the tea towel at him. He caught it with a laugh and then added, more seriously, "Is she powerful enough to break the café's protections?"

"Possibly. But the wild magic is thickly woven through the spells there, and there are few witches or mages who'd risk tackling its unpredictability." I took another drink. "Seriously, though, I don't believe she has any intention of coming after me just yet. I think I'm dessert—a tempting little treat after the main course that is Maelle."

"Well, that's comforting."

It was dryly said, and I smiled. "You can escort me down to my car to make sure I get there safely, if you want."

"I want."

The toast popped, so I slathered walnut toffee butter all over both pieces, then offered him a slice.

He shook his head. "Do you think Maelle will acquiesce to her demand?"

"Not a chance in hell." I munched on the toast for a bit. "She will expect me to find and save Roger, of course."

"And if you don't?"

"She's long wanted to taste the power in my blood. Which, before you say anything, she will never be able to do. My inner wild magic is an instinctive beast, and her teeth won't get within an inch of my neck or thigh or whatever other bit of flesh she likes to dine on."

I crossed mental fingers as I said all that because, hey, fate did like being tempted, and I'd just sent a doozy out into the ether.

" That I do find comforting." He picked up his chocolate and took a sip. "So, describe this clearing. Maybe I know it."

I did so, and he wrinkled his nose. "It sounds like a pretty generic forest clearing of which we have hundreds, and that isn't going to make finding him any easier."

"I know." I finished my piece of toast and then took a drink. "And Maelle is of the opinion my psychometry will never find him because he will read too much like her."

"Which may not matter if she's beside you and you're able to feel a secondary if fainter pulse."

"True, but—" I stopped as my phone rang, then put down my cup and ran for the bedroom. The screen said it was Maelle, so I hit the answer button. "Maelle, thank you?—"

"I haven't the time to linger on the phone," she cut in, her normally melodious tone brusque. "Be at my nightclub in half an hour if you wish to speak."

And with that, she hung up. I blinked and stared at the phone's screen for a second. Maelle was very many things but rarely brusque to the point of rudeness. Something must have happened. Something other than Roger.

I swore, threw the phone down onto the bed, and started pulling on clothes. The night remained hot, so I dressed in little more than shorts and a tank top, but I did add socks and thick boots, just to prepare for any snakes that might be slithering about.

Aiden came in and quickly pulled on jeans and boots, but didn't bother with a shirt. He grabbed my backpack—which was filled with all sorts of witch paraphernalia, including my silver blade—from the doorless walk-in wardrobe and slung it over his shoulder.

"I poured your hot chocolate into a travel mug so you can take it with you."

"You're a good man, Aiden O'Connor."

He smiled. "I've heard horror stories of husbands not catering to their pregnant partner's cravings, so I'm getting ahead of the curve."

I laughed, pulled him close, and kissed him. "As long as you keep a steady cache of chocolate on hand, I think you'll be fine."

"I will remind you of this statement when you're craving pickles at three in the morning."

I snorted but didn't deny the possibility. While I hated pickles, he didn't, so maybe our daughter would follow in his footsteps and start demanding the horrid things even before she popped into the world.

I headed out of the bedroom, detouring to grab the travel mug and my remaining bit of toast, then followed him out into the night. The stars were bright in the sky thanks to the moon being little more than a sliver, the air rich with the scent of eucalyptus. The latter was a bit of a worry—while we were very early into summer and the hottest months remained ahead of us, the bush was already starting to dry off, and both the trees and their oils were highly flammable.

It wouldn't take much to cause a disaster.

And yet, disaster is coming … I frowned at the insight, but as per usual with these things, nothing in the way of explanatory information followed it.

I walked through the pretty garden and its white picket fence—something Aiden had built because I once said I'd wanted the whole white picket fence and family ideal—and followed him into the silent heart of the reservation. It was here—in the remains of an old volcanic crater—where you could find all the main residences of the various family alphas within the pack. The grand hall, which was where the pack met, debated, and made decisions over all things affecting their compound, was also here. It was lovely old building that was, in a complete juxtaposition with the longhouses surrounding it, circular in design with an angular earthen roof that pitched up to the stone chimney dominating the center of the structure.

A flicker of movement through the trees had my heart leaping, but it was only one of the wolf guards Aiden had placed around this central area slipping through the trees to check on us.

Aiden gave him a nod, then caught my hand and led me quickly into the canyon. While it narrowed the farther down the mountain you moved, this initial section was filled with more, albeit smaller, longhouses that even on an almost moonless night glimmered like jewels thanks to the quartz stone used in their construction. Few lights were on in any of the places either here or farther down, though I had no doubt many were aware of our passing. Wolves tended to sleep lightly.

Once we were out of the canyon, we followed the winding track through to the lower forest area. Another guard stepped out from one of the well-hidden tree platforms, gave Aiden a nod, and then moved back into the thick greenery.

I clicked open my SUV—which still bore a multitude of bullet holes thanks to the fact we simply hadn't had the time to get it repaired after the granny killer had shot the hell out of it and tried to do the same to us. Aiden opened the door, threw my pack onto the passenger side of the car, then helped me climb in.

"Ring me once you've finished with Maelle. Don't go chasing after Roger without any of us there."

"Stupid, I am not."

Careless of your own safety, you can be , came Belle's sleepy comment, her words almost perfectly echoing Aiden's.

What the fuck are you doing awake at this hour of the morning? I asked, then said aloud, "I promise I'll not go anywhere from Maelle's without calling in the troops—which, my dear ranger, might not include you."

"As long as it at least includes Monty and Belle, I'm satisfied."

"She's already online bitching about me waking her so early."

I did not bitch . She paused. Well, not yet anyway.

Aiden slammed the door shut and stepped back. I started the SUV and then wound down the window.

"Call me," he reiterated. "Or at the very least, send a text."

I raised an eyebrow. "This overprotective thing might get annoying going forward."

"Probably, but if the situation were switched, you'd be asking the same damn thing."

I laughed. " That is a certainty."

I reversed the SUV and headed down the narrow, uneven track that was the compound's main entry point. There were others, but they generally weren't vehicle accessible.

So, what disaster has gotten you out of bed on this too-warm night? came Belle's comment,

I could ask you the same thing.

In my case, it was the urgent need to pee. I'm figuring that's not your excuse.

I turned onto the main road and headed for Castle Rock. I dreamed. Well, kind of.

You need to be more specific. The heat has sapped my brainpower of late.

I couldn't help grinning. You sure it's not all the good loving you're getting?

Positive. Her mental tone was dry. Even Monty has decided it's too freaking hot. He's currently researching weather spells.

Seriously?

Yes. Now stop hedging and give with the information.

Marie reached out to me in a prophetic dream.

Well, fuck.

Yeah. She has Roger staked in a pentagram and has given Maelle twenty-four hours to hand herself over to them or he dies.

She's going to kill him whether Maelle goes or not.

Yes, but I think she'll wait until she has Maelle in custody. Even Marie doesn't want a crazy-as-fuck, all-bets-are-off vampire coming after her.

The headlights picked out a shape on the side of the road—a kangaroo, and a big one at that—so I hit the brake and cruised past slowly. Thankfully, he remained where he was rather than play dare with my SUV.

So why call you into the situation? Wasn't it only days ago she warned us to stay out of it?

I didn't take notice of her warning, so now she's bringing me into play.

How did she call you though? You've run protections around the longhouse ? —

They obviously weren't enough. We're going to return to the café until this mess is sorted.

So where are you now?

Heading for Maelle's.

Why not just ring her?

I tried. When she finally answered, she sounded … brusque. She didn't give me the chance to tell her what I saw, just told me to be at the nightclub in half an hour. I paused and glanced at the time. Still fifteen to go, and I was on the outskirts of Castle Rock now. I think something has happened.

Of course it has, because problems rarely hit one at a time. I'll get dressed and meet you there. And don't say "don't", because you are not going in there without backup.

I half smiled. Wouldn't think about it.

Liar . She paused. Monty's coming, too.

She probably won't let him in. She hadn't the last time he'd accompanied me.

Exactly what he said, but he's insisting he be the backup plan. He'll wait outside and come a-running if we need it.

Fair enough. I'm about ten minutes away.

We'll meet you there.

The mental line went dead. I flicked on the radio and wound my way through the silent streets of Castle Rock, eventually arriving at Maelle's nightclub eight minutes later. Monty and Belle hadn't arrived yet, so I stopped on the opposite side of the street to the club and studied it.

The last time I'd been here the walls had been repaired but missing the biomechanical alien forms that had made it something of a tourist attraction. They remained absent, but the roof had now been restored, and the walls were in the process of being painted—though not right at this particular moment. Painting at night was never ideal, because the lights needed to see what you were doing generally attracted far too many bugs—and real-life rotting bug carcasses probably wouldn't be the attraction the alien forms had been.

Two other things had changed.

One, there were now multiple layers of protection spells surrounding the building.

And two, the hulking, not-quite-human men who generally guarded the doors were absent.

Something definitely had happened.

Twin lights speared through the SUV's rear window as a car pulled up behind me, and the accompanying rattle of the engine told me who it was. Monty's old Ford had a very distinctive sound.

I grabbed a couple of bottles of holy water from my backpack, then climbed out and walked down to them.

Monty wound down the window. "Hey, cuz. Nice night for a bit of magic."

I smiled. Though my relationship with my mom was now on the improve, during the bad old days of growing up in Canberra, Monty had been one of the few relatives I'd not only gotten along with but had actually liked. My grandfather was the other, but he'd died long before the forced marriage mess that had sent Belle and me on the run for nearly thirteen years.

Like most royal witches, Monty had deep crimson hair and silver eyes, but his pleasant features held a lot more warmth and humor than was usual amongst the royal lines. He'd been in love with Belle for as long as I could remember, and I couldn't have been happier that the two of them were finally engaged.

"I'm thinking you might not be referring to the witch kind there," I replied, voice dry.

"Then you'd be thinking wrong. As Belle said, it's entirely too hot, even for me."

"Are you ill?" I pressed the back of my hand against his forehead. "A little hot but wouldn't call it a fever?—"

He laughed and knocked my hand away. "I see the repairs on Maelle's place continue to rocket along. No guards though—do you think she's replaced them with all those protection spells?"

"Honestly?" I replied, "No, because she uses them as a visible deterrent to the human population. It's possible they're helping with whatever situation caused Maelle to sound so harassed."

"Possible, but unlikely." Belle climbed out of the passenger side of the car and walked around the front of the car. "We're all aware how Maelle deals with ‘problems,' and I'm thinking she wouldn't want witnesses."

"Except her guards aren't exactly human." They weren't thralls either, but appeared to stand somewhere between the two. "They're her creatures, and it's doubtful they would— or even could—report her to the rangers for any sort of misdemeanor."

"If she's grumpy, then whatever has happened in there will be more than a misdemeanor." She stopped beside me and studied the club through slightly narrowed eyes. Like me, she was wearing a tank top and shorts, but, unlike me, she was built like an Amazon and looked absolutely stunning. She was a Sarr witch, so had their coloring—black skin, silver eyes, and straight black hair that was currently pulled back into a ponytail. I was paler, rounder, and four inches shorter, with freckles across my nose that tended to become more noticeable in summer months.

"I'm only sensing two people inside—Maelle and one other," she added. "Can't tell you who that second person is, because I don't want to risk Maelle's wrath by doing anything deeper than a mind brush."

"Always a sensible goal when it comes to magically powerful old vampires," Monty said. "Could you tell if the person with her is male or female?"

"Female, so not one of the guards."

"Could be one of her feeders," I said.

"Possible, but I did catch a hint of distress."

"Unsurprising, because having a vampire attached to your neck, sucking on your blood, would undoubtedly be a rather distressing experience," Monty replied in a sage sort of tone.

"She actually prefers the inner thigh, rather than the neck," I said. "Apparently, the closer the blood is to the sexual organs, the sweeter it tastes."

His gaze jumped to mine, expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Seriously? You know this how?"

"She told me. Or at least, she told me the first bit, and I was left in no doubt about the second."

"And why were you discussing such a matter?"

"Maelle volunteered the information. Maybe she thought I'd be curious enough to be tempted."

"And maybe," Belle drawled, "she simply figured that if you allowed a werewolf to go down?—"

"Belle!" I cut in, and pushed her arm. "Monty does not need that sort of image in his mind."

"Monty does not," he agreed. "So why don't you two head on into that club before this conversation disintegrates any further. Just be careful."

"Aside from the fact Maelle's expecting me, she wants me to rescue Roger. She won't hurt either of us just yet."

"If she damn well even tries," Monty growled, "Roger won't be the only one fucking staked."

He found a source for white ash stakes, Belle explained. They arrived a few days ago.

You didn't mention it.

Thought I'd let you enjoy a few days of engagement bliss before the shit hit the fan again.

Thanks. I paused. Has he checked his stock to make sure none are missing?

The minute you mentioned Roger being staked. All are accounted for.

Ah, good . I switched my attention back to Monty and patted the arm he was resting on the windowsill. "Just remember that she likes a bit of violence with her meals."

He rolled his eyes and pointed at the club. I grinned and obeyed, although my smile quickly faded as I stepped onto the pavement and a curtain of dark and dangerous energy descended.

It wasn't aimed at us, and it wasn't a spell of any kind. It was emotions. Raw, deep, and darkly furious emotions.

"Oh," Belle muttered, "that does not feel good."

"No."

I studied the airlock-like front door but couldn't see anything to indicate violence or forced entry. Yet that veil very much confirmed that something bad had happened—if not here, then somewhere else.

I took a deep breath that did little to ease the gathering tension, then slowly reached out and gripped the door handle. The metal was oddly cold to the touch, and though my skin crawled, I had no sense of evil or danger.

I opened the door and stepped inside, Belle a couple of steps behind me. The foyer area was in the same state of disrepair as before, although the booth where you checked your coats and paid the entry fees now had a new glass and metal window installed. The doorway into the main club area remained covered by heavy plastic, but this time, doors were here, ready to be installed. I pushed the plastic aside, stepped through, and held it up for Belle.

But as I dropped the plastic back into place, a cloud of raw emotion hit, its force so strong it felt like a punch to the gut. I gasped and leant over, sucking in air as I frantically raised additional mental barriers to quell the emotional tide. Belle's presence sharpened in my mind, and a heartbeat later, the tide dissipated. Not fully, but enough that I could breathe and think again.

"Thanks," I said, pushing upright again. "I should have thought to strengthen my shields, given what we sensed outside."

"I don't think either of us expected—" She stopped, her gaze widening in shock.

My head snapped around.

Maelle walked toward us, her normally meticulously bound chestnut hair falling like string all around her face, and her eyes … Fear stepped into my heart.

Her eyes were usually a gray so pale there was only the slightest variation between her irises and the white. But here—now—they were black. All black. Ghoulish black.

I'd seen that happen once before, and it had ended with my ex being torn apart before she'd bathed naked in his bloody remains.

She wasn't naked now, but her normally pale and perfect skin was splattered with blood, and her clothes—a deep green riding habit with a high-collar, white lace undershirt—dripped with fluids, some of which was obviously blood, while the rest…

The rest were human remains.