Moment of Truth

by Edwards, Hailey

  “Liz hasn’t once wielded magic against us since she was captured,” I realized. “She can’t, can she?”

  No wonder she hadn’t worn a more powerful adversary’s skin when we cornered her at the clinic where Ares held my family after kidnapping them. She couldn’t tap into that magic without risking the baby. She was forced to resort to glamour, a cheap trick in comparison.

  The wonky bombs started making more sense too. Liz must have tried her hand at spell crafting without drawing on the dark powers she had been taught to wield.

  Thankfully, those results had also sucked, and we caught her before she got the hang of it.

  Mix in Ares actively working against her, and you got an operation that appeared to be amateur hour.

  “Not if she wants her baby to survive.” Remy squinted. “Are you sure you didn’t see her use magic?”

  Thinking back, I couldn’t say for certain. Things had moved so fast, and I admit I had tunnel vision then.

  All that mattered to me in those moments was recovering my family and getting them to safety.

  “Aside from the glamour…” I scrunched up my face, “…I don’t think so.”

  “Then she had help.” Midas thought along the same lines. “It’s not like she doesn’t have the resources.”

  “With the archive nearby, and the coven able to use it as their private transporter room,” I agreed, “Liz had access to any number of people who could have done the heavy lifting for her then gone back to wherever they came from without leaving a trace.”

  By using the coven for her dirty work, she kept her hands clean and her scent untainted by her magic.

  “Look on the bright side.” Remy winked. “This means she can’t hurt you without hurting the baby.”

  “Plenty of people murder the old-fashioned way,” I reminded her. “Stabbings, shootings, poisons. All those kill without the benefit of magic.”

  “Oh, to be mundane.” Remy’s expression twisted with pity. “Those poor suckers.”

  With a firmer grasp on the situation, I texted Bishop the details from Remy’s report.

  “The OPA is now aware of the situation.” I chewed my bottom lip, worried Bishop hadn’t mentioned this when we talked earlier. “We’ll send eyes in the field and give the Remys a break.”

  “What’s the point in having seven selves if you don’t put them to work?” She jutted her hip then planted a fist on it. “They get cranky otherwise.”

  Thumbs hovering over the screen, I pondered that. “Aren’t they just extensions of you?”

  Head tipped to one side, she eyeballed us. “Have you met me?”

  “You’re not cranky so much as homicidal,” Midas informed her. “Violence always improves your mood.”

  “Eh.” A shrug rolled through her shoulders. “We can’t all be chocoholics.”

  An incoming message vibrated the phone in my hand, and Bishop’s update left me cold.

  >>All the cameras are down. A citywide video blackout. We can’t see a damn thing.

  >How long ago?

  >>Five minutes. Maybe six. I would have called you at the ten-minute mark.

  Without knowing the Faraday had been targeted, the OPA had no reason to alert me unless the blackout spread or lasted longer than routine maintenance or a power surge could excuse.

  >>Milo is hitting the streets and heading your way. Reece is running a diagnostic.

  The OPA’s network of cameras, both our mounts and surveillance we mooched off the city, gave Reece a bird’s-eye view of Atlanta. Right now, he was flying blind. And that meant we would never see the coven coming.

  Two

  Reece, the true brains of the OPA operation, got back with me in record time. With bad news.

  >>The cameras were hexed, that’s why the OPA’s private feed and the city feed are blown.

  Unclear on the difference between a hex and a curse, I chalked them both up to bad mojo.

  >Can you unhex them?

  >>I put in a call to a local coven who’s done some work for us. Cross your fingers it’s an easy fix.

  The slight evasion was a reminder I didn’t know who or what Reece was, and he wasn’t telling.

  Good for him. I wouldn’t tell either. Often, it didn’t end well for folks who got too close to me.

  >Thanks.

  >>No problem.

  I took out my frustration on a stale Tootsie Roll I found in my pocket. The way it stuck to the lining, and the blue fuzz on the edge, convinced me I had washed it with my jeans, but extra fiber never hurt anyone.

  “Sir, we need to make a decision about the residents.”

  Peeling myself away from my phone, I found three enforcers standing before Midas at parade rest.

  “We can’t evacuate them.” His attention landed on me, tangible as a caress. “Hadley?”

  “The coven would pick them off as they exited the building,” I agreed with him. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “We’ll have to relocate them,” he said. “Bring everyone down to the lower floors and interior rooms.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The trio of enforcers fanned out and began organizing the small-scale evacuation.

  “I have to call Linus.” I blew out a breath. “Can I schedule a last-minute root canal instead?”

  That would be less painful than admitting he had just left but I already needed all the help I could get.

  “He would come back if you asked him,” Midas reminded me. “He offered to stay until this is over.”

  Those had been his parting words before he climbed into his rental with Grier and set out for Savannah. A few days away from her city had taken its toll on her. She had no choice but to return and renew her bond to the land, and it would gut Linus to leave her while she was vulnerable.

  “It never ends.” I leaned into Midas’s warmth. “There’s always some new horror on the horizon.”

  “Way to get bleak.” A frown puckered Remy’s forehead. “You’re not wrong, but that’s still dark for you.”

  Dark like the chocolate covering the espresso beans in Midas’s pocket. Frak. I was hungry.

  “The city wouldn’t need me if it wasn’t forever on the edge of peril,” I joked. “Job security, right?”

  “The sleep deprivation is getting to her,” Remy told Midas from the side of her mouth. “She’s loopy.”

  Afraid she might be right, I ground the heels of my palms into my gritty eyes to keep them focused a few seconds longer. They were dry and sore and probably bloodshot. They were also the least of my problems.

  “All I’m saying is, I can’t depend on Linus forever. Otherwise, he’ll be chained to me, and this city, for the rest of his life. I don’t want that for him. I don’t want that for me either. I want to show him, and myself, that I’ve got what it takes to do this.”

  Between Linus and Grier, they had pitched in enough when they captured Liz and brought her in.

  The rest fell onto our shoulders, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it.” Midas pressed a lingering kiss to my temple, and warmth spread through my chest. “You’re not showing weakness when you admit you can’t accomplish the impossible alone.”

  “I know, I know.” I blasted out a long sigh. “I’ve got the OPA, and I’ve got you.”

  “And the pack.”

  With me mated and now engaged to their beta, I was as pack as it got without being born gwyllgi. I had no problem with joining a new family. It was dragging them into OPA business, where they might get hurt, that gave me heartburn.

  Further complicating matters, I also couldn’t afford to be seen as relying too heavily on any one faction if I wanted to maintain the neutrality required of my position.

  To cut ties with the pack and stand alone would be the easiest thing, careerwise, except for the part where that option sliced out my heart. Call me selfish, but I was done sacrificing every scrap of happiness in my life on an altar of guilt.
/>
  I loved Midas. He was mine. I was keeping him—and his mom too.

  “Ahem?” Remy cleared her throat. “What about me?”

  Warmth kindled in my chest at the reminder of how blessed I was to have such good friends.

  “And an army of Remys,” I amended. “Who stands a chance against those?”

  Preening, she fluffed her hair then readjusted the flower behind her ear.

  “I’m going to run up to my apartment—” she grinned wide, “—to grab a measurement real quick.”

  Never let it be said she let a tiny thing like an impending attack cramp her decorating style.

  “Have fun.” I saluted her enthusiasm. “Let us know if you need help moving your things.”

  “What things?” She bounded into the elevator. “I brought my trash bags full of clothes over last night.”

  The doors closed between us before my brain and tongue settled on an appropriate response.

  As they did, Ambrose stepped free of my outline, his shadowy finger pointing toward the front entrance.

  The door to the lobby swung open on its own, as if wind had nudged it, and Hank blurred into motion.

  Dude was fast. Crazy fast. And boy howdy was he pissed.

  Shoving through the door, he launched into a flying tackle, smacked into an unseen threat, and took it down. He pinned it—whatever it was—with his hands around its throat. Or so I assumed, based on the choking noises.

  From where Midas and I stood, Hank appeared to hover a foot above the floor. It was downright odd to watch him do more than glare or stand silent sentinel…while glaring…usually at me. I knew he had the moves, or he couldn’t hold down the doorman job, but knowing and seeing are two different things.

  “Show yourself,” he snarled, his upper lip quivering, “or I rip out your throat.”

  Midas and I prowled closer, senses alert to any other threats who might have used this distraction to slip in after Hank abandoned his post.

  Ambrose slithered a circle around Hank, sniffing at whatever he wrestled with beneath him.

  “Don’t kill me,” a girlish voice squeaked. “Please, don’t kill me.”

  “Show yourself,” Hank repeated, “or I’ll kill you, and then I’ll see for myself once your magic fades.”

  “I’m too scared. I’m sorry.” A sob burst out of her. “I can’t think.”

  “Wrong answer.” Hank increased his pressure, and the struggle went out of her. “There we go.”

  Before our eyes, a lanky teenage girl with elfin features materialized in a limp sprawl of limbs.

  A sour taste coated my tongue. “Is she…alive?”

  “She might be coven—” Hank turned his growl on me, “—but she’s just a kid.”

  “She might be just a kid,” Midas warned, “but she’s still coven.”

  The barbed twist of his own words must have put the situation into perspective for Hank. He climbed off the girl and kept his head down and his eyes on the floor. He didn’t apologize to me, but he did grunt in my general direction as I knelt and used my modified pen to swipe restraining sigils on her wrists and ankles.

  “I didn’t mean to call your honor into question.” I tapped the cap of my pen against his boot. “I’m sorry if it came out that way.”

  Hank offered me a hand, I took it, and he helped me to my feet.

  It wasn’t an I’m sorry, but it was close enough to smooth Midas’s hackles.

  “Let’s get her to Abbott.” I pocketed my pen. “Then we’ll see what this is about.”

  Without prompting, Midas scooped her into his arms to free Hank up to return to his post.

  The girl didn’t stir during the ride down to the infirmary, but her breaths came easy through her parted lips. Her delicate throat would sport bruises in the shape of Hank’s fingers, but he had been careful after he realized the coven had sent a girl to do their dirty work.

  One of their lookouts must have spotted the Remys and nominated a novice, untainted by black magic, to sneak in, eavesdrop on us, and discover how much we knew about their position and their mission.

  Sadly, on both counts, the answer was not much.

  The cloying fragrance of cut grass and earthy florals built in the air, a perfume or detergent on the girl.

  Abbott was waiting for us in the hall when the doors slid open, which meant Hank had called ahead to let him know to expect us. The healer gave the girl a cursory examination while Midas held her then decided her wounds were minor enough that a regular exam room would do.

  He had a kit in hand, ready to go, when he shut us into one of the smaller rooms.

  The test would tell us if the girl was a host for a Martian Roach or a skin worn by the coven. As much as I wanted to cry overkill, it wasn’t. The coven would use the face of a child, let alone a teen, in a heartbeat. They would bank on reactions like Hank’s, which would allow their agent to gain the upper hand.

  That alone made it imperative we seal the archive and ferret out the remaining witchborn fae within the city wherever they might hide.

  “She hasn’t been infected.” Abbott put away the kit after he cleaned it for the next use. “I’m not entirely sure she’s witchborn either.”

  Studying the girl’s features, I tried to see what he did but failed. “How can you tell?”

  “She has punctures on her nape.” He lifted fingers smeared with a thick verdant liquid. “Hank must have partially shifted his hands when he took her down.”

  “Green?” I leaned in closer, and the smell of grass and flowers intensified. “What bleeds green?”

  Other than Vulcans.

  “Other than Vulcans?” Midas’s lips twitched in the promise of a smile. “You know you were thinking it.”

  That he was right proved both that he knew me better than anyone and that he was researching his upcoming role as Spock in our Star Trek-themed wedding. Both made me a happy girl.

  “She’s not Vulcan.” Abbott traced the curve of her rounded ear. “I would guess she’s fae.”

  There was no point in fretting over what the Society might or might not do to me for cavorting with fae. I was in fae up to my hairline. There was nothing to be done about it but hope the Society never ordered a census. Still, old habits die hard, and the instinctive chill that came from willfully defying Society law prickled down my arms.

  “Her blood smells clean.” Midas rubbed his nose as if it itched. “Earthy and floral, like her magic.”

  “Remy’s upstairs.” I brought out my phone. “She might have an educated guess as to her species.”

  Failing that, she might be able to find out for us. Few things piqued her insatiable curiosity like a juicy mystery. It was part of what made her an excellent spy.

  Normally, it was the height of rudeness to ask a person to identify themselves, but in a city brimming with practitioners able to change their faces and species to blend, we couldn’t give manners precedent.

  “I’ll ask Bishop to come too.” I shot them each a text. “A second opinion won’t hurt.”

  Old as he was, he had encountered most everything during his lifetime. How old, you ask? No idea. Whatsoever. He refused to tell me. Or even hint. Older fae tended to keep their ages to themselves.

  I wasn’t sure if the secrecy was meant to avoid breaking the brains of those around them with the sheer weight of life experience they carried, or if it was for their own sake. The longer a creature lived, the more horrors, grief, and sorrow they accumulated. I could understand willing the past into the background of their minds in favor of living in the present.

  Twelve minutes passed, during which I fell asleep on my feet, before the elevator’s bright ding woke me.

  Remy stepped through the exam room door as I picked grit from my eyes. She noticed the girl, shrieked like the first rube to die in a horror movie, the one who heard a noise and went to investigate it alone, and then launched herself across the room in a flying leap at the unconscious figure.

  Three

  “
Lillian.” Remy landed on top of the girl, clutched her shoulders, and shook. “What are you doing here?”

  The girl, Lillian, answered with a soft grunt as she began to rouse. “Huh?”

  “What happened to her?” Remy stroked the girl’s hair. “She’s bleeding. I can smell it.”

  “She tried to slip past Hank without announcing herself.”

  Eyes flashing murder, Remy touched the bruises darkening Lillian’s throat. “And he did this to her?”

  “Currently, only residents are allowed entrance to the Faraday.” I willed her to understand what I meant without spelling out our predicament in front of a stranger. “Who is she?”

  “My roommate.”

  “Your…roommate?”

  “What?” She glared up at me. “I read the lease. There’s no rule against it.”

  “Have you seen the size of the apartment? I’m just wondering where she’s going to sleep.” I rubbed my eyes, certain I must be bruising them by now, but it did the trick. “Unless…will you be sharing a bed?” That was how Midas and I made it work. “Oh.” Another thought sparked. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  That would explain the flower in her hair. Maybe it had been a gift from Lillian.

  Laughter spilled out of Remy as she stared down at the girl. “Did you hear that, Lil?”

  “Don’t laugh,” Lillian wheezed. “I would make an amazing girlfriend.”

  Another burst of amusement shook Remy as she tried, and apparently failed, to picture them as an item.

  The girl shoved Remy’s arm with a weak hand. “Uh, Rem?”

  Amusement bright in her eyes, she sat back. “Yeah?”

  “I can’t breathe.”

  “Oh.” She scurried off the end of the bed. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  Trouble she might be, but Remy was loyal and fiercely protective of her friends.

  I just hadn’t realized she had more than one.

  Me.

  “Remy found me on the street,” Lillian explained in a wavering voice. “She let me stay in her car with her sometimes, when it got too cold.” Her expression darkened. “Then she up and disappeared. I figured she moved on to bigger things. I thought I was alone again. Forgotten again. But Rem, she came back for me.”