Chapter 11

There was no good reason for Olivia Pierce to wake him in the middle of the day, and given that his alarm hadn't gone off and his legs felt like concrete, it was nowhere near sunset. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he sat up, winced at the raging headache, and slurred, "What's wrong?"

For a moment, the smell of human blood worried him; was Olivia hurt? But she pressed a warm mug into his hands and said, "I'm sorry to wake you early, but I thought it was important. We're all fine. But something's happened you need to know about."

He glanced down, cheeks heating as he realized he was sitting in front of his assistant in nothing but his briefs. At least he hadn't slept in the nude. "Can I have a minute?"

She laughed and said, "Yes. Sorry about the rude awakening."

When she was gone, he gulped down the mug's contents, then lurched out of bed. He didn't bother with a shower, just threw on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, then hurried down the hall to meet her in her office. The glass windows of the compound's central building had been thoroughly tinted so the UV rays didn't hurt him, but he still felt the aching burden of daylight, cramping his muscles and making him sluggish.

Two more familiar smells greeted him as he walked into the office wing. Mixed with the smell of fresh coffee were the strong, lively scents of Alistair Thorne and Shoshanna York, whose voices greeted him as he rounded the corner and found them all sitting in Olivia's office.Alistair looked pale, though his head was on straight, which was an improvement. Shoshanna's cheeks were flushed, and her heartbeat pulsed noisy and quick.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Is it Kova?"

Shoshanna shook her head rapidly, and then he smelled her.

Brigitte.

Her scent was faint, as if she'd passed through the room before vanishing into thin air, but she was there.

"Where is she?" he blurted.

Shoshanna put up her hands. The quick motion sent another cascade of that scent through the air, nearly overwhelming him. "I don't know right now. Scarlett came to our house and?—"

"Are you all right?" Julian said. Then he shook himself. "I'm sorry. Please tell me. I won't interrupt."

The human witch spared him a soft smile. "It's okay. I think reaching out to her got in her head, and then when you two met…it's like something is shaking loose in her mind."

Quickly, she told him how Scarlett had come to the house and demanded answers about Armina and Kova. Smelling his mate on the air threatened to distract him, but he forced himself to focus on Shoshanna's face.

"I think she knows that something is wrong with Armina, but it's too much for her to think about. She obviously cares about Kova, and she wants to know why he can't tell her the truth," Alistair said.

Heat boiled in Julian's chest, but he held his tongue. If Kova had been there to protect her, then of course she cared about him. But did she love him?

And did it matter, as long as Julian could save her this time? Petty as it was, he hated the idea of Kova touching her, of her loving him while she hated Julian.She was his even if she didn't know it.

"I tried to tell her we should talk to you, and she panicked," Alistair said, casting a glance at Shoshanna. "We don't have any way to contact her."

"The tracker," he said. "Do we have any movement?"

He ran into his office, grabbed his laptop, and returned to set it up on Olivia's desk. The human woman sidled closer to peer at the screen. It was still pinging at the Marriott Marquis downtown. However, Jonas Wynn had investigated and found no sign of her. And as much as he wanted to, they couldn't break into every damned room in the hotel to find her.Jonas had been trying to track her scent, but a fire had broken out in one of the hotel restaurants, setting off the alarms and forcing everyone to evacuate. By the time he got back inside, the smoke had overwhelmed the lingering scent.

"I have an idea," Shoshanna said. "I couldn't get a good look at the magic surrounding her. It's incredibly powerful, but it's almost like…it's like a repellent. It pushes my magic back. She was able to walk right across my protective spells without being entangled. I felt her triggering them, but they didn't even slow her down. And when I tried to grab her at the house, the magic snapped back at me."

"I'm not a magic guy, Shoshanna. Help me out," he said.

"Misha said that when he tried to use his power on her, it snapped back on him so hard he nearly blacked out. But it wasn't her doing anything; it just happened," Shoshanna said. "I think that Armina's curse is actually protecting her right now. Until she decides it's time to…" Her brown eyes creased. "To kill her."

"How does that help us?"

"Well, I felt her from far away," Shoshanna said. "I don't exactly have radar where I can just see magic, but I'm wondering if Misha could use one of his tricks to find her like he found Lilah Whitlock and Carrigan Shea."

He nodded. "I'll ask him to look into it. Are you two staying here for now?"

Alistair said, "Yes," just as Shoshanna huffed and shook her head.

"I am so damn tired of getting chased out of my own house," Shoshanna complained."Mags is going to need kitty therapy. I'm billing you guys."

Julian chuckled. "I know, and I'm sorry. All right, I'll see what I can figure out. Go get some rest, Alistair."

They rose, gave him a little bow that made him uneasy, and left. He started to follow them out of the office, but Olivia cleared her throat and said, "Wait."

If Paris Rossignol had been his sword arm for the last few months, then Olivia Pierce had been his quartermaster and treasurer and advisor, doing more than he could have possibly asked for her to manage this place. She slid past him and closed the door, then settled back into her chair across from him.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"We?" he mused.

"Yes, we," she said. "I know you're incredibly proud and stoic, but this is different. What can I do to help? If I need to get on the phone and strongarm the staff at the hotel, I will. Or put her face on the news, or?—"

He held up a hand to stop her. "I appreciate it very much. Right now, I don't think there's anything you can do. And I don't want to frighten her any more than she already is."

She nodded. "If she's asking questions, isn't that a good sign? That maybe it'll be different?"

He held her gaze. "I trust you, Olivia," he said. "And this remains between us."

She nodded eagerly. "Of course."

"I am afraid to hope. My hope has been in tatters for more than a hundred years, and I feel it coming back. And it scares the hell out of me because it will only hurt that much more if she dies," he said, staring down at his hands, at those old scars across his knuckles that reminded him of his long-lost humanity.

He could not throw away his responsibility like Jonas Wynn. If he ran off half-cocked after every lead, he could endanger his court. Every decision had a cost, had a soul behind it.

"I can't say that I understand. It's a pretty unique situation," she said finally. Her warm skin brushed across his hand, and he looked up to meet her warm eyes. "I'm only saying this because I care about you. You can choose not to hope, and I'm not going to tell you that you're wrong for it. But all of us care about you. And if you can't hope, then we will. We have enough hope for a thousand Julian Alcotts. If you go it alone and it ends badly, are you going to wish that you'd let us in?"

"I was-"

"And you know Armina Voss is a problem for all of us. She already hurt Alistair and tried to hurt Shoshanna. You think she's going to stop there?" Olivia asked.

"No," he said quietly.

Her brows arched. "Especially once she figures out that I'm your favorite human. She's definitely coming for me, and Nikko won't like that," she said, her tone almost playful.

"You are my favorite human," he admitted.

Her teasing smile faded to a soft, gentle expression as she leaned closer and took his hand. "You don't have to bare your soul and tell us all your feelings. Just lead, and we'll follow. We trust you. That's all. Sir," she added with a wry smile.

Despite the gut punch of emotion, the little Sir made him chuckle. "We've talked about this. Don't call me Sir."

"Mm-hmm," she said. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

He held her gaze for a while, then finally said. "If she stashed the tracker at that hotel, she could be staying there, or at one of the hotels nearby. Can you call around and see if you can find her? She might be using another name, but it's a start. Maybe try Voss, or even Kovalev, if she's close to Kova. And see if you can find any vehicles registered to her name. I suspect it would be in Armina's name, but it's worth a try."

"Julian, did you just give me the go-ahead to make a spreadsheet?" she teased.

He groaned. "Yes. Get to work, Miss Pierce."

"On it," she said eagerly, turning on her second monitor.

Let us have hope for you.

He considered returning to bed, but instead went to his office. Sometimes, he missed the simpler days, when he was just a warrior of the Shroud. In those days, he snapped to Hugo's orders to protect Eduardo. He made few decisions and bore the responsibility only for his personal failures. Now everything carried so much more weight, whether it was the respect of the court or the lives of his loved ones. It was so much more than he'd ever realized.

When he was still human, he had seen the ravages of war, when kings squabbled over borders and flags. While they crowed about empires, villages burned. People were crushed and torn apart. Little girls starved to death and grandfathers died of plague, all while fat nobles dined in their palaces where the blood-soaked mud and shit would never touch their silk slippers.

Everything had a cost. And he had never wanted to be the one to make those decisions. It was too much, even without the looming despair of losing Brigitte.

Sitting there at his desk, he felt the darkness that always lurked somewhere in his mind. For years at a time, it would be a mere shadow, but in these months before Brigitte's birthday, it was a festering hole. A dark, cruel voice spoke from that tear, reminding him that it was all pointless.

And though he told the others he didn't dare to hope, that was a lie.

In the weeks before her birthday, that voice always turned to hope, and it grew sweeter and louder with each passing day. Maybe you could save her. What if you give yourself to the witch? What if you track her down in time?

What if what if what if

Sometimes he dared to listen. Sometimes he did idiotic things like track down Armina Voss and throw himself at her feet, only to have her laugh in his face, let her apprentices unleash their worst, and leave him crumpled in a bloody heap with a note bearing only one line of text: soon. A reminder that the inevitable was in fact, inevitable.

And when it was over, when Brigitte was gone and he could still see the light leaving her eyes and still remembered the sound of her voice and the way she smelled; then that voice changed.

You knew it was pointless. Just give up. Lay down and die.

That voice had also gotten the better of him; once that all his brothers knew about, when she had died for the first time and he fought them tooth and nail as they forced him to stay here, to stay in this miserable existence where there was no more Brigitte.

And there had been once again, just after the fourth time he watched her fade away. He had given up then, and after burying her with a bouquet of magnolias, he had walked the silent streets of Atlanta until the sun rose.

Then he sat in the rising sun, even as his skin seared and peeled away, as it penetrated down into the darkness. And it was Safira who had come to him, furious and sobbing as she covered him with a coat.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she spluttered.Her pale skin was searing in the fiery blaze of sunrise, but she didn't falter.

Tears had streamed down his burnt, cracked cheeks. "Finish me off. Just let me rest."

And instead of pulling back to slap him across the face for saying something so stupid, she just held him close. Back then, he'd vowed to not put her or the others through this kind of pain, but he had lost his resolve over the last few decades.

Until he saw her. Until he saw her weeks before he should have crossed her path. Until Shoshanna York reminded him that things were different, that everything was different now.

That tangled shadow of hope and despair pooled in his mind. He could almost imagine it there in the corner of his office, a place no light could push away. And for once, that voice was confused.

In one moment it said give it up, there's no point,and in the next it said Paris has been sleeping, you fucking idiot! Look at all of them!

Just down the hall, he could hear Olivia talking animatedly as she asked if she could speak to a guest named Scarlett Ward, and that no, she didn't have a room number, but it was an emergency and it would really be best…

He steeled himself, sat up straight, and made up his mind.

"You can't go out alone.You're in charge now, and we depend on your safety," Paris protested. Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the Frenchman was clearly irritated with him.

"Then take the Covenant," Julian said.

Paris glared back at him without speaking. He wouldn't accept because that was one step closer to conceding defeat, and the stubborn prick wouldn't do that until one of them was dead. It was one of his most annoying—and most admirable—traits.

"Come with me. You can stay nearby, and I'll give you the signal if something goes wrong," Julian said, already tightening the holster across his back. "If she runs, you drop her with a tranquilizer."

Kristina Arensberg nodded from across the armory. "I'm on it."

Julian held up one of the small black boxes Karina had given them. Since dealing with the Shieldsmen months earlier, GPS trackers had become part of standard protocol for their missions. They weren't letting anyone get away if they could help it.

When he looked up from adjusting the holsters, Paris was glaring at him, blue eyes accusing. His jaw ticked, and Julian knew that he was testing him. Would he use his power as Paris's Maker again?

Julian held his gaze. "I know that we kept Eduardo locked away for safety, but that is not how I wish to operate. You were frustrated because Eduardo had lost touch with the cost of his decisions," Julian said. He put on an armored black jacket that fit neatly over the holster, then adjusted the cuffs. This was much better than the formal suits he'd been wearing lately.

"This is different," Paris protested.

"You have asked me to both keep hope with regards to Scarlett and to lead this court. If you want me to do both, then I will, but you will not dictate how I do it," Julian said. "If you want to be in charge, then take the Covenant from me. Otherwise, let me lead and fall in line where you belong."

It was a wonder that Paris's teeth didn't crack out of his skull from the tension in his jaw. His blue eyes darkened to red, and the turmoil tugged firmly at their bond. If Paris wanted him to lead, then he would learn another lesson. Sometimes Elders made decisions that required their followers to shut the hell up and do their jobs. Julian had done it many times, and now Paris had to do it.

If he could.

"Fine," Paris said. "If she breathes wrong, she goes down."

Twenty minutes later, he was climbing out of an SUV and staring up at the glowing fa?ade of a high-rise hotel. After another reminder from Paris, like he was a teenage boy with a curfew, Julian slammed the door and hurried up the curving walkway as a valet drove a humming electric car around to the parking garage.

A noisy fountain sprayed against shifting neon lights, casting a harsh glow in the dark. The sound drowned out his hearing, and he hurried inside to where it was quieter. Past the automatic doors, a man in a security uniform greeted him, "Evening, sir."

"Good evening," Julian said, his voice sounding distant to him.

The towering hotel felt like a strange, modern cathedral, looming over him as he stepped into the lobby. Glass elevators whizzed up and down the floors like a spinal cord against a massive ribcage. Hundreds of mingling scents competed for his attention, all of it beneath a lingering hint of smoke, but he held his unwashed shirt close to his nose to find her scent.

He patrolled the lobby, excusing himself as he skirted around a wedding party taking pictures. Mostly humans, and a vampire that smelled like the Durendal, like his bloodline. Perhaps one of their newer members having a drink or hooking up with a conquest.

Scarlett's faint scent grew stronger as he approached the men's room, just as Jonas Wynn had reported. He stepped inside, peered into the stalls, even bent to look behind the urinals. Her scent was still here, and he felt the familiar tug at his heart, as if she was calling to him.

Nothing here.

The tracker wasn't so sophisticated that they could pinpoint an exact location, so it could have been in a room on any of the dozens of floors above him. But she had been in here. Even through cleaning products and the masked smell of piss, he could smell her.

He nudged at the trash can with his foot, noticed its bag had only a few crumpled paper towels. It had been emptied recently. Bending awkwardly, he slid his hands along the underside of the sink, then found a plastic bag taped to the edge.

Pulling it out, he felt a sense of victory, even if it had brought him no closer. He tucked the tracker into his pocket, then hurried out to the bar in the lobby. Waving off the bartender, he took a cocktail napkin, then borrowed one of the pens from behind the bar. He wrote his phone number on it, then added:

Scarlett, please talk to me. —Julian.

It felt silly and desperate, but he had been far worse things than silly and desperate. He tucked the napkin into the bag, resealed it, then secured it under the bathroom sink again.It was a long shot, but she'd hidden it here instead of trashing it for a reason.

As he walked back through the lobby, he stopped dead in his tracks when her fresh scent pierced through his senses. That was fresh, not a wisp from thirty-six hours ago.

Hope swelling in his chest, he followed it. First, it led up a set of carpeted stairs to a lounge that overlooked the lower levels of the lobby. Half the tables were empty and clear, but a single table in the corner had one chair pushed out, a half-finished cocktail still sitting on its napkin. He ventured closer and was bowled over by the intensity of her scent. The drink was cranberry juice and soda, no alcohol.

Pressing the glass to his lips, he tasted her. The sensation overwhelmed him. He set the glass down and darted back down the stairs with adrenaline pulsing in his veins. Even as he burst out of the doors and back onto the street, that shadow warned him.

She's playing you. It's a trick.

And he didn't give a damn if it was. He took out his phone and texted Paris.

I've got her scent. Follow me but stay back.

Paris would be furious, but this would be a good test of his ability to follow. Yes, he was selfishly motivated to find Scarlett, but this was not just about him anymore. As Olivia said, this was about the court now. The sooner they dealt with this, the better. At the very least, he wouldn't be as distracted, and that was better for the court.

After flipping up the armored collar to protect his neck, he jogged briskly down the street outside the hotel. Hazy yellow lights cast arcs over the empty streets. Her scent led him down a few blocks, then up a steep hill. Past loading docks and office buildings, past closed restaurants and Uber drivers idling as they waited for new jobs.

The trail took him past the mirrored glass tower of a hotel, which flashed with the dazzling neon of the SkyView, a Ferris wheel overlooking the city. Centennial Olympic Park was nearby, with its neatly manicured trees forming a green space in the middle of the urban sprawl. And it wasn't far to the rubble of the old Constitution building, from which Carrigan Shea had orchestrated his short-lived reign of terror.

Standing on a street corner bathed in pools of colorful light, he drew in her scent. No longer a thread, her scent was a gusting wind, a hurricane swirling around him. Closing his eyes, he focused on that thread, trying to find its direction.

Where are you, Brigitte?

It was foolish after all they'd been through, but he imagined her smile, imagined that red hair streaming in the wind. If they were really soulmates…

His eyes flew open. There was no one near him, but he felt a distinct tug on his left hand. Whirling on his heel, he held back the urge to run and walked briskly across the dark street. With each step, her scent grew stronger, inviting him in with its warmth.

He jogged down the brick walkway into Centennial Olympic Park, which was quiet by night. Under a shelter, a group of people gathered to talk, but most of the park was empty. Even the usual whisper of the fountains was quiet.

A strong heartbeat caught his ear, and he turned slowly to see her standing at the center of Olympic rings inlaid at the park's center, one hand resting at her hip. Her green eyes practically glowed in the moonlight, and it took everything not to run to her. "You found me," she said quietly.

"Yes," he said. Despite the solid ground beneath his feet, he was walking a fraying rope over a bottomless chasm. "Careful standing there. You could get wet."

Her eyes drifted down, taking in the darker brick around the rings. "They must turn them off at night," she said.

He smiled faintly. "You wanted me to find you."

Her brow twitched, but she didn't answer. He dared to take a step closer, and she threw up one hand. "No closer."

"Okay," he said amiably. He put up both hands and said, "I'm not here to hurt you. I think you know that, don't you?" He focused on her intently, thinking trust me, hear me, let me protect you.

Perhaps he imagined it, but she looked down, her left hand clenching in a fist. "Why did you tell me that you loved me? What did you mean by that?" she asked.

"Could we sit somewhere instead of talking across the park?" he asked.

She shook her head rapidly. "You stay right there. We can hear each other just fine."

"I don't want to frighten you away like Shoshanna and Alistair, but what I tell you is going to sound very strange," he finally said.

She let out a little laugh. "Everything in my life is very strange right now. I want to hear it."

"Okay. But you're not going to believe me."