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  Jittery from nerves, Leila unmuted the television and stretched while a sitcom played, pausing in her movements for a moment to text Alex a warning about Sophia and Heath.

  He wouldn’t be happy she’d led them after him, but he’d rather know what was coming than be surprised.

  Her slow, familiar stretching routine helping relax her ever so slightly. She waited.

  Minutes passed sluggishly, feeling like hours.

  It was exactly the same as every other time she’d waited while Mary fought for the pack, or Alex protected someone…all while Leila was kept far away from the mere risk of harm. It had been almost automatic for her to accept Alex’s decision that she should stay where she’d be safe until his return.

  Until the humans who’d killed her parents and her, who wanted to hurt her again and murder her sister, were no longer threats.

  This is my battle. Finally, her chance to show the pack—and Alex—that she was more than a fragile ballerina was here. And she’s almost let it pass without a second thought.

  Shoving away the notion that once she’d turned the danger in her voice off she wouldn’t be able to have it working again in time, she shot Briony a quick text message.

  Can Gris-Gris bring me too?

  Chapter 7

  IN the presence of two dozen other warlocks, Alex had to take his caution to new levels. Shields, guards, and hexes meant to keep them from harming him had to be subtle—yet every single warlock here had the same notion, each undoubtedly protecting his or herself in some way. Like so many subcultures, this was a dance they had to carefully navigate.

  And the first person to break a rule, either by making their shields too obvious or by appearing weak, lost.

  Thoughts skated through his mind, some whispering on the surface, while others purposely drilled loudly, intending to break his concentration.

  When are we going to get started? I’m hungry.

  I hope we claim the children first. So much untapped power…

  Two new conduits in one day—I’m on a roll. No one here can touch me.

  BOO! Ha! Got you.

  It wasn’t known why warlocks sensed each other’s minds. No other creatures could, but warlocks were unique in that they weren’t the result of a disease, like vampires or werewolves—or genetics, like the Fey or shapeshifters. Warlocks took and took until they changed themselves from what they used to be: witches.

  Alex had always blamed this fluke on something broken inside all of their minds.

  So he protected himself from it—filling the crack, so to speak. No matter what was really churning in his thoughts, the others would hear him thinking about a human woman he’d made up, one he supposedly met the previous night in a bar on Frenchman.

  Unlike many witches, warlocks had lost the ability to tell a lie from the truth. As a general rule, they liked the extra challenge…and the added bonus of being able to tell untruths to other warlocks with little or no consequence.

  Now, it served as quite the boon for Alex.

  “All right, order…ah, hell, bring it down to slight disorder, if you please.” Jared, one of the more powerful warlocks, spoke with a crooked smile intended to disarm. From Alex’s knowledge, Jared replaced a man named William after Sebastian killed him the same night Jared and a few others took Alex away from the New Orleans Country Club and his date with Leila.

  No one, no matter what their abilities, could see his fury. For taking him away from Leila and the pack, Jared would die by Alex’s hands.

  Now, unfortunately, was not the time for such. Rather, it was the time for carefully woven webs of lies and plans of massacre he wouldn’t see through. The problem? He was surely the only warlock in the room not devoted to their goal: the complete elimination of all preternatural creatures, save warlocks themselves.

  As usual, they stood in order of who had the most power. Most warlock floats did this, but like so much else, it was an illusion. Alex stood in a place behind five other warlocks, knowing full well the order was far less than accurate. In this formation, he was near the most powerful man, Brendon, but not close enough to be a threat. If he didn’t think being among the powerless would automatically paint a target upon his back, that’s exactly where he would’ve stood. As it was, he felt safest in his spot…not that he would put it past anyone to attack him for the single page he kept in his pocket.

  They couldn’t sense the amount of power he held. As warlocks, they knew he kept an amount of energy on him, as each of them did, but he made sure they sensed what he wanted them to. At the same time, he had a feeling he wasn’t the only one who did as much. Nothing here was as it seemed, which brought a level of unpredictability to every meeting he didn’t relish.

  The chatter and popping sounds of unveiling new spells stopped a few minutes after Jared spoke. No one wanted to seem like they followed commands. The newfound quiet left but the subtle whispers of thoughts lingering in the air.

  “For the fledglings who’ve been asked to attend—congratulations, Highland, Ivanna.” Brendon, in line directly in front of Jared, nodded at the fledglings in question, who stood on the opposite end of the room. “This is confidential information that cannot leave this room.” His smile was that of a hunter daring its prey to run. “If you try to talk to anyone about this, excepting each other, you will see what I mean.”

  As a general rule, fledglings weren’t allowed in meetings between the float, but giving a couple of them permission for attendance served to two purposes: to show them they would always be judged based upon their level of power, and what they had to look forward to once they rose to full warlock status.

  Namely a capacity for energy so far beyond what they currently held it would leave them and everyone they told about the meeting scrambling to Rise.

  If unity and loyalty were encouraged at the fledgling stage, maybe there wouldn’t be three gaps where warlocks should be standing.

  “Basically,” Jared continued for Brendon, earning himself a scowl he didn’t seem to notice, “warlocks have been planning to extinguish all creatures for a while, but now is when it’s finally going to happen. And I would hurry up and Rise, because if you aren’t truly warlock, you’ll still be considered a witch.”

  Brendon opened his mouth to add something, but a female voice cut in.

  “Witches are on our shit list,” Debbie interrupted from halfway down the row. Alex raised an eyebrow at her, and more than one man and woman in the room answered his unasked question.

  I’d screw him too, if it meant I could talk over Brendon, one man thought.

  Her relations shouldn’t get her further than her power goes, a plain-looking woman, Talya, who had what looked like markedly more energy than Debbie, thought in a clearly disgusted mental voice.

  Uncaring how her actions offended most of the women in the room, including the two female fledglings, Debbie ignored them all.

  “Fledglings and warlocks who have below a certain level of power will be considered witches.” Her tight black ringlets were the color of an oil slick, shining pink, purple, and blue in the dim light of the salt dome cavern in which they stood. Since Sebastian had taken out the float’s castle in Audubon Place, they met in Le Marché Noir. So far, the Fey who owned this area underneath New Orleans either hadn’t noticed their presence or hadn’t felt the need to mention the intrusion.

  Each week a different warlock had been required to leave a gift for the Fey, just in case, which may be the reason they’d been left alone. That, or another warlock took it and the Fey simply hadn’t realized they were here. The tunnels that wound beneath the city created a vast, complicated labyrinth that had taken centuries to map. If Alex left here and never returned, he’d lose no sleep over the loss.

  Due to her mediocre level of collected energy, Debbie’s speech opened the floor for over half the warlocks. Alex wondered if that was why Brendon had allowed it—and perhaps, why he’d slept with her to begin with.

  A
n involuntary image of Leila brought an above-average level of panic. While confident his thoughts were protected, Alex would not put her at risk…and putting her beautiful face before these monsters was akin to cutting her in the vicinity of a ravenous shark.

  Get it together, man.

  “What level of energy is she referring to?” Talya asked. Only one man stood between her and Alex. “We have no truly accurate way to measure the power we’ve collected, and we all know this ranking system,” she waved her hand down the line circling the cave, “is horse shit. Will our deaths be completely arbitrary?”

  “This is how we keep track of how powerful the float is as a whole,” Jared said in a dangerous voice.

  “And, if it were accurate it wouldn’t be as fun,” Ashton, the third most powerful warlock, murmured in a singsong voice that wouldn’t carry across the room. His identical thoughts were much louder, and his grin reflected in more than one man and woman.

  They liked the games. Alex used to as well…but now he saw it as a waste of time, time he could be spending on other, more productive tasks he refused to ponder until he was well away from this particular group of sociopaths.

  “Roughly three quarters of warlocks will survive this strike,” Brendon answered. There was no doubt in Alex’s mind that he facilitated Debbie’s revealing statements. Either he wanted the float to be aware that, according to their plans, not all of them would live much longer, or he simply liked the rising fear spreading throughout the room.

  Because, now, none of them were safe…and just as few wished to die.

  “So we will do what warlocks have always done,” Alex announced, plastering a wry smile to his face. “We gather power and use it to protect ourselves against everyone else.”

  He and Brendon exchanged a look, and for a second, he thought he saw approval in the other man’s eyes. He couldn’t be sure, like Brendon would never know what Alex’s true intentions were. For all Alex knew, the most likeable person here seemed like the biggest asshole.

  If he thought about these meetings for too long, the coming massive headache was inevitable.

  Jared nodded. “The exception is the time limit. Seven days, creatures. That’s how long you have until the reckoning judges us all.”

  “Who will be these judges?” It was a lower-ranking warlock who spoke, but it was a relevant question. From the whispers spreading across the group, no one wanted Jared as a judge. His answering grin told them he was.

  “Myself, Jared and Ashton,” Brendon said. “We will decide by voting. Two out of three wins the decision.”

  He seriously doubted the rules were that simple, but Alex kept his thoughts to himself. Others, however, either couldn’t or didn’t bother. Talya didn’t hold in her derisive snort when someone thought, no doubt Debbie’s safe.

  Debbie simply appeared pleased with herself, making Alex guess she was more powerful than anyone realized. He made a mental note not to cross her.

  “Fledglings, you may speak.” Jared watched the two young women expectantly.

  Neither of them blanched—a point in both of their favors.

  “How are we supposed to Rise and have enough energy collected to compete with you all inside of a week?” Highland raised her chin, and her voice shook with anger. Alex couldn’t blame her—she thought she’d be dead next Tuesday.

  Little did she know, it wouldn’t be an issue.

  None of this would play out.

  “Someone doubts,” Jared snarled, leaving his place beside Brendon and stalking down the curving line, his fists clenched. “I heard just enough to know it’s true. Who was it?”

  For a split second, Alex wondered if he’d given himself away. It stood to reason that he hadn’t, despite his less than safe thoughts. If he hadn’t blown his cover yet, after protecting his mind all these months and thinking almost whatever the hell he wanted during every, however somewhat rare, meeting, then he probably hadn’t been caught now.

  Unless, like the Fey lulling them into a false sense of security like Alex feared, they had been tricking him all along.

  As the possibilities raced through his mind, hopefully undetected, his breathing and heartbeat didn’t alter. He didn’t even blink.

  The deafening roar of rushing water sounded at the same time as an equally loud crash. Everyone who didn’t react quickly enough would be dead within seconds. If by some miracle they weren’t crushed, they’d drown in minutes.

  This was the judgment, he realized, doubting any of the three judges had anything to do with it. A fraction of a second before the weight of the salty earth would’ve crashed down over him, followed by water, the soil above him parted for moonlight to caress his skin, immediately followed by the ground underneath him rising to catapult him toward the sky.

  A tree caught him in City Park, and he spared a moment to note the way he should’ve taken Leila here for a date. They hadn’t been here yet, and it was a damn shame.

  He’d have time to think on that later.

  Because they were young and likely stupid, he urged the now-open earth to save the two fledglings. The amount of power pouring from Ivanna almost shocked him into letting her drown, which was exactly what would have happened if he hadn’t intervened. Alex made sure they were thrown far enough away that they wouldn’t know he pulled them out. Part of him questioned if Ivanna had collapsed the salt pillars herself, but he was almost certain she and Highland had worked together.

  If no one else caught them, they had a very successful evening. At least half a dozen warlocks, including Debbie, were dead. The survivors were already covering the incident up, ruthlessly leaving no signs of damage to fellow warlocks or the earth. In theory, the incident should’ve been enough to keep the remaining warlocks, including the two fledglings if they rose, safe.

  What Highland and Ivanna didn’t understand was that there was no security, not even for Brendon, who was supposedly the most untouchable of the group. If he wasn’t even the fifth most powerful in the float, Alex would’ve have been surprised.

  Warlock politics. He was glad that, unlike most other political games, this one would end very soon.

  The thought making him smile, he strolled on the sidewalk until he reached the street where he’d parked his car. He’d met with the creatures, and now he had some humans to deal with.

  At least this lot won’t make me want to stick my head in a blender.

  It was uncanny how every time he left a group of warlocks he felt like the luckiest man alive. It was probably because he was lucky to be alive.

  Brendon got into his car before Alex unlocked his. The other warlock would consider it a win, which was just as well. The very last thing he needed was Brendon deciding to pay more attention to him than he wanted. No, he would lie low until he made his move—what it would be, exactly, he hadn’t yet determined—and ruined the float’s insane plans.

  If anyone could stop him, killing him, Leila and everyone else he cared about in the process, it was Brendon.

  He inclined his head to the other man in a sign of respect before Brendon drove away, luckily in the opposite direction than Alex was about to head. There were no other warlocks, despite at least four of their cars parked nearby, so he felt it was safe to pull out his GPS.

  Except his phone, with the GPS downloaded and spelled into it, was gone. He cursed, wishing he’d put it in a pocket that zipped closed or simply left his phone in the car. It was encrypted, so no one, not even another warlock, could gauge any information from the device—except maybe the address he’d last had pulled up, the location in Broadmoor, but that wasn’t exactly damning. Acquiring a new phone and using the appropriate amounts of magic on it would be a pain in the ass he hadn’t planned for.

  Cursing, he started his car. The loss of his GPS changed nothing.

  Alex was almost certain the humans were still in Broadmoor. It was well past ten and they’d been at the location for hours, giving him the impression they were where they
intended to stay for the night.

  It took him little more than twenty-five minutes to circle back in the direction of his house, thanks to little traffic and an excess of roads closed for construction. Broadmoor was truly in the heart of the city, directly in between City Park and his home. When he stopped in front of a powder blue two-story home that looked like it could be in a children’s fairy tale, he was more than ready to get this over with.

  It was about time the humans who’d ruined Leila’s life got what was coming to them. Karma’s a bitch. He clenched his fist around the two pages from the conduit he’d brought with him. During Ivanna’s attack he’d only used his earth elemental powers, saving the energy from his talismans for this.

  Worth it.

  The familiar hum of the Ducati 1098S Heath drove had him slamming his hand into the steering wheel—and by some miracle, not causing it to disintegrate. What was Heath doing here?

  The green bike turned the corner, onto the block where Alex had parked. Sophia accompanied her mate.

  Fantastic. I’m outnumbered already.

  As they both served as Head Soldiers for the pack, neither of them were creatures Alex wanted to fight. Each was as lethal as the other, while they had completely opposite talents. Sophia dealt in fire while Heath preferred water. From the expressions on their faces when they took off their black tinted helmets, Alex suspected he was about to get burned.

  He commanded a tree branch to slap the Zippo Sophia always kept in her palm out of her hand before she could brand an uncomplimentary message into his forehead.

  That woman had done it before to less deserving men, but he simply wasn’t in the mood.

  “Give Sophia back her lighter,” Heath commanded in a tense voice, “or else I’ll drop you off in Antarctica and leave you there until she tells me to bring you back.”

  Having lived with Heath for a century, during which the man hadn’t known he could travel through the air and rarely mentioned his water abilities, Alex had forgotten the werewolf could make good on that threat.

  Alex could do the same to Heath, except his elemental ability wasn’t air so he’d have to use conduit energy—which might put most of Heath somewhere else. If it worked, making the intended travel in mere seconds, that would be the extent of the magic encased in the pages Alex had brought. However, tempting it was to threaten Heath right back, rapid travel was a waste of energy few warlocks put up with.