Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kierse trained until she thought she would literally collapse. Then she trained some more. She'd lost a day to her magic burn, and she couldn't afford to lose another. But by the time night fell, Graves still hadn't returned.

She had just considered crawling into bed when she dug out her burner phone and saw that she had a message from Nate, asking to meet. Now that she was well enough to move again, she needed to get out of the house and hear how her friends were doing.

She changed into all black, slunk from her room—careful to evade the new cameras Graves had installed—and slipped out of the house without anyone the wiser.

Kierse headed toward the subway entrance on Amsterdam, but within a few blocks, she was flagging. There was no way she was going to be able to make it very far, let alone brave the subway in her condition. Between magic burn and training, she was shot.

It was an outrageous expense, but she flagged down a cab, directing it toward Greenwich Village. She paid the cab when he dropped her off and was back out into the cold night with a sigh. Nate had agreed to meet at the coffee shop, but all she wanted to do was say fuck it and walk straight into the Dreadlords' headquarters. She missed her friends so much. Her friends and the attic and Colette.

Maybe if she hadn't still been recovering, she would have noticed the Druids before they closed in.

"Hello, Kierse," Declan said with a feral grin.

Declan and a half dozen Druids materialized out of the darkness. In the state she was in now, they'd kill her before she could move a muscle.

She reached for bravado as she faced him fully. "Declan. What can I do for you?"

"Funny you should ask," Declan said. "Lorcan wants to talk to you."

"It's not a good time. Maybe we could set up a meeting. I can pencil him in." She felt like laughing at him, but he looked so goddamn serious. She just didn't have the energy for it.

"Lorcan won't be kept waiting."

Kierse rolled her eyes. "Do you hear yourself? You sound ridiculous."

"We either take you willingly or by force." He crossed his arms over his beefy chest. "It's up to you."

"You can't touch me. You know Graves and Lorcan have an arrangement."

"We're not going to break any parts of that arrangement as long as you come quietly."

"‘Quietly' isn't really my style."

Declan narrowed his eyes. "We've been following you since you left his place. You can barely walk. You couldn't stand a chance against me right now. Let alone the rest of us."

She ignored his comment. "What does he want? And why didn't he come himself if he is so interested in talking to me?"

"You'll find out when you meet him."

"Do I have your word that you'll let me leave after I hear him out?"

"It's not my word you need. It's Lorcan's. But if you want to leave after you've spoken to Lorcan, then we cannot keep you, per the arrangement."

She paused, letting them see her deliberating. Her eyes cast around the shadows, searching for any wolves that lingered in them. She didn't want the Druids to think she was giving in too easily, but based on their patrols of Graves's house, she'd known this was a possibility.

"Fine. Then let's go."

Declan looked startled by her acceptance. He must have thought that he'd have to wrangle her, probably knock her out to get her to comply. She would go meet the infamous Lorcan. It was overdue, anyway.

"Are we going? Or are we just going to stand here?"

"You're not going to try anything?"

"It's amazing what you can accomplish when you don't point a gun at a person."

Declan roared with laughter. He stepped forward and clapped Kierse on the back. She stumbled at the force of it. "Spritely thing, you are. Come on, then."

She didn't feel spritely as she jogged to catch up to him. Declan led her to a series of large, black SUVs. She piled into one of the cars after him, and they rode in silence away from the familiar streets. Kierse was surprised that they didn't blindfold her. She knew their territory was in Brooklyn, but she didn't think they would be comfortable with her knowing where their headquarters was located. They crossed the Williamsburg Bridge in silence, and she watched the island fall away behind her as they drove into Brooklyn.

Eventually, they parked in front of a brick building with towering oak trees lining the walkway, their leaves long gone from their branches. Across the street was the large, white-domed edifice of the former Williamsburgh Savings Bank Building on Broadway. Declan hustled her outside again, and she wrenched herself away from him.

"I can walk," she ground out.

"Fine. This way."

He strode through the entrance of a first-floor restaurant with black-and-white-tiled floors and hard wooden booths. Declan barreled through the place as if he owned it, and they ended up in a hallway with an elevator. One of the Druid underlings pressed the button, and when the doors opened, she followed them in. Declan slid a keycard into a slot, and that allowed access to the top floor, which just read EQUINOX.

The doors opened to a stunningly elegant restaurant. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. The floors were solid wood, waxed and polished to perfection. Candlelight flickered from an array of circular tables about the room. Long, forest-green drapes were pulled back from windows that showcased the view of a lifetime—the entire Manhattan skyline lit up.

Kierse had been living with Graves for weeks, and still the luxury astounded her. Here, tucked away in this borough, was this magnificent restaurant—Equinox. Her brow furrowed as a memory of that name teetered on the brink of recollection. But before she could pluck it out, a man appeared.

He moved with the grace of a dancer—light and effortless. Kierse understood feet like that. She'd had to learn to be that quiet, and it had taken years. Yet he was neither slight nor burly, either. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and was perfectly muscled beneath the clean three-piece suit. Not bulky or showy but... stylish, elegant, self-assured.

As he drew closer, she marked all the intricacies of him. The gold watch gleaming on his wrist; the trimmed, dark-brown beard; the smooth gait; the cerulean-blue eyes that reminded her of a crystal-clear day in Central Park. But most of all, his smile. The way it reached his eyes without effort. As if he had never known true pain.

He stopped before her. "Hello, Kierse. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Lorcan Flynn."