“Your alpha tortured me.”
“Former alpha, but yes.”
“You watched.”
“I did.” He turned pensive. “It was a slow year, as I recall.”
The casual disregard for another’s suffering set my teeth on edge, but I let Midas speak for himself.
“You were a strange half-mortal pup who killed one of our own,” Richter continued. “You compounded that mistake when you made a fool’s bargain to spare your sister. Why would I have fought my alpha of millennia for you?”
“You viewed a child’s suffering as entertainment,” Midas countered. “I have no use for men like you.”
Richter laughed, actually laughed, at Midas’s ire. “I’m not a mortal to be held to your standards.”
“All that means is you’ve had time to learn better,” I said, unable to keep out of it, “and you chose to ignore right for wrong.”
“I’m not human either.” He exhaled. “I don’t hide what I am. I have no reason to ape being one.”
“I believe,” a gentle voice threaded with iron rang out, “what my son means is you lack honor.”
Midas and I whipped our heads toward the voice to find Tisdale strolling out of the elevator near the exit stairs, dressed in a mint-green suit. The polite expression smoothing her features contrasted with the murder promised in her eyes, and I was suddenly very glad she was on our side.
Eighteen
Never in his long life had Midas ever been afraid of his mother, but there was a first time for everything.
“Tisdale,” Richter rumbled, sliding his gaze down her body like a caress. “You’re as lovely as ever.”
The tone, and its implied familiarity, stood Midas’s hackles on end, but he kept a leash on his temper.
“You two know each other?” Hadley glanced between them. “Small worlds.”
Never taking her eyes off him, his mother enlightened Hadley. “Richter is Natisha’s consort.”
“I was Natisha’s consort,” he corrected her, tapping into famed reservoirs of charm. “I am no longer.”
“We met when I summoned her the first time.” The painful details of that bargain, she kept to herself. “I was younger then, and foolish, but not so ignorant of Faerie or scorned women to entertain his interest. It would have been an insult to my guest, whom I called to me across a great distance to ask for a favor.”
A smile twitched in Midas’s cheek, but he managed to keep it off his face.
As a mischievous and indulged child, he had received many tongue lashings from his mother. He hadn’t appreciated her talent for verbal evisceration then, but he had grown to appreciate her way with words.
Especially when she aimed them at someone else.
“I would have left her for you, stayed with you,” Richter countered. “You wouldn’t have me.”
“You watched my son suffer.” A growl laced her words. “You let him be sold. How could I forgive that?”
Leaning in, Hadley pitched her voice low. “I kind of wish I had popcorn.”
“Me too,” Midas admitted just as softly. “Mom will disembowel him if he keeps it up much longer.”
“Has Richter always been stupid? Or does he have a death wish?” She watched as his eyebrows climbed. “He tried to cheat on Natisha. She has a scorched-earth policy when it comes to men who do her wrong.”
“I wasn’t…” Midas struggled with how to phrase it, “…myself then. I don’t remember much about him.”
A brush of Hadley’s fingers across his lips told him he didn’t have to dig deeper for the answers.
“Since he’s still alive,” she mused, leaning into him, “Natisha must have never learned of his crush.”
“Oh, Natisha knew.” Richter proved his hearing was as excellent as any gwyllgi. “She beat me within an inch of my life. The only reason she didn’t kill me outright was Ferro offered a boon to appease her.”
“The concept of loyalty isn’t totally foreign to you then,” Tisdale said, drawing his attention back to her.
“Ferro and I are of an age. We grew up together. He is, and always will be, my friend.”
“His mom was banging his best friend?” Hadley shuddered. “No wonder the guy has issues.”
Age was elastic for fae in a way it wasn’t yet for her, but he could agree the relationship was in poor taste.
“Why are you here?” Tisdale exhaled. “What do you want?”
“As I told your son,” Richter said, pious, “he has defeated our alpha, and now we are his.”
A barely imperceptible jerk was the only acknowledgment she allowed for his shocking revelation.
“Midas?” Her clear voice rang. “Do you wish to take control of this pack?”
“No.”
“There you have it.” Tisdale spread her hands. “He releases you to settle the matter among yourselves.”
“We didn’t come all this way to be turned on our heels.” He sounded apologetic about it, but not like he would change a thing. “Ferro promised us a hunt, that the streets would run red with human blood, that our bellies would grow tight with man-flesh.”
As Midas recalled, Richter was Ferro’s beta, meaning he could quell a rebellion if he chose.
Yet he chose to leave his “friend” behind, broken, and come to this world with the others for sport.
“Ferro is no longer your alpha,” Midas reminded him. “You’re no longer bound by his whims.”
“That is so,” Richter agreed, “but you can’t tempt a starving lion with a raw steak then jerk it back, or you might lose an arm.”
The threat was clear, and Midas clenched his jaw to avoid going for Richter’s throat.
“I have a task for you then.” Hadley engaged Richter. “As your lady alpha, I can command you, yes?”
Amusement laced his features as he inclined his head in a mocking bow. “Of course, my lady.”
“Help us bring down the coven.” Her voice grew icicles. “Take out as many as you can.”
Crimson glittered in his eyes, and he wet his lips. “As you command—”
“But touch one hair on the head of an innocent, and I will personally introduce you to mortality.”
A feral pride swelled behind Midas’s breastbone at her ruthlessness, the predator in him reveling in the strength of his mate.
“Your task will be done.” Richter smiled wide, teeth on display. “With relish.”
“And then you go home.” She set her jaw. “Midas will kick your ass first, if that’s what you need in order for your ego to be assuaged, but we want you out of our city.”
“Let’s not be too hasty.” He called on his magic, crimson and bright. “I will report to you shortly.”
A wave of power splashed over him and drained away to reveal the lean hunter we first met. He walked a circle around Tisdale, his tail wagging, then trotted off with a booming howl guaranteed to bring the rest of the Faerie pack running.
“What are you doing here?” Midas appraised his mother. “How did you find us?”
“Bishop texted me.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Why didn’t you?”
“The address wasn’t mine to give.” He firmed his stance. “The explanation isn’t either.”
“This was one of the OPA’s HQ sites.” Hadley came to his defense. “We don’t give away that information to anyone. Bishop only contacted you after the Faerie pack located us. This location will be burned, and we’ll open a new one in a secure location. There was no harm in sharing details after the fact.”
“Ah.” Tisdale nodded. “I understand.”
Hunting songs pierced the night, warg and gwyllgi and lion, and their pack’s own unique voice.
Midas noted the familiar scents of his mother’s guards, but they were good at their jobs, and he couldn’t spot them. “Do we still have control of the Faraday?”
“Barely.” Her arms fell to her sides. “Do we know what the coven wants?”
“Revenge.” Midas let his exhaustion show. “W
hat else?”
As quick as he could, Midas filled his mother in on what they had learned from Natisha.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” His mother pressed a hand to her lower stomach. “She took from me the ability to have more children. She wants our bloodline ended. This would ensure it dies right in front of her instead of during her lifetime.”
Midas had no interest in children, and neither did Hadley. That might change, if what Ambrose had told them about their life expectancies was accurate. But for now, they were content with one another. She deserved more time to smooth the scars from her childhood before she made up her mind for certain, for always. If they decided to become parents, they wanted to do it right. The way his mother had raised him.
“Any idea how bloodline curses work?” Hadley exhaled hard. “It sounds pretty vague, as spells go.”
“The power required to wipe out an entire bloodline on a whim is beyond even her. There is a cost.” The lines bracketing her mouth told him she wasn’t comforted by that fact. “It’s likely she chose one sacrifice to represent each person she wants dead. She’ll use the sacrifice’s relationship to her as a conduit to her descendants, and their life force will act as fuel to power the spell.”
“A life for a life six times over.” Midas balled his fists. “You, Lethe, Eva, and me. Who else?”
“Spares, maybe?” Hadley checked with Tisdale. “Or more powerful targets might require extra oomph?”
“Makes sense,” Midas agreed. “They might even be insurance if our bloodline connection is too weak.”
“They’d be hard-pressed to do it without a full coven of thirteen.” His mother noticed where her hand rested and lowered it. “Seven would have been risky.”
“Natisha has access to six hearts,” Midas reminded her, “not seven.”
The burner phone rang in his pocket, and Midas handed it to Hadley after recognizing the number.
“Bish?” She scrunched up her face. “I can’t hear you.” She stuck a finger in her ear. “What?”
Midas exchanged a glance with his mother, and her expression turned grim.
“Natisha just exited the portal with half her coven,” Hadley reported. “The Faraday will have to wait.”
“How do we get there?” Midas checked with Hadley. “Did Bishop leave the keys here?”
Rapid-fire questions peppered the air, OPA business mixed in, and then she ended the call.
“He lost the Faerie pack downtown and is circling back. They probably peeled off when Richter called them, but I’ll let Bishop keep thinking he was clever.” She pocketed the phone. “He’ll meet us at Ford’s truck.”
The three of them went to wait while Tisdale’s bodyguards peeled off to scout the exits.
When Bishop arrived, Midas and Hadley gave his mother the bench seat then piled into the bed.
The oppressive silence and the moonless night left his feral half uneasy. Atlanta wasn’t meant to be so quiet, so vacant. She was loud and vibrant, bold and chaotic. And…it looked like Hadley’s viewpoint was rubbing off on him if he was starting to see the city as a person, or in possession of a personality.
Slanting his gaze down at her, he noticed her distraction. “What are you thinking?”
“How do we defeat Natisha?” Hadley rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you think Richter will help?”
As long as Ferro lived, ensuring Richter his beta title, Midas doubted Richter would throw in with Hadley.
Old fae grew ancient by keeping their heads down and their noses in their own business.
“He’s loyal to Ferro, which means he’s loyal to Natisha.” He scoffed at the idea of her being worthy of it. “The whole pack will be useless against her.”
“Even with the alpha lip service they’re paying us?”
“Richter took your deal, so the objective is not in direct defiance of any order from Natisha. The coven must fall into a gray area for him. That, or he has no idea how deep Natisha is in with them. Given the personal nature of Natisha’s vendetta, there’s every reason to believe she would have kept her plans between her and Ferro.”
“Plus, she was planning to pit the coven against the pack for control the city when she was done.”
The two groups she intended to pit against one another couldn’t be in close contact, or they might talk.
“Exactly.”
“I was hoping our two problems would cancel each other out, but it figures we can’t get that lucky.”
“The odds are better than they could have been.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thanks to you.”
“Natisha is a nasty piece of work.” She cuddled against him. “I don’t want our people getting hurt to put her down.”
“Neither do I.” Midas breathed in the scent of her shampoo. “But she’s coming for Mom and me, and Lethe and Eva. We have no choice but to fight. We can’t run. We won’t run. Atlanta is our home. We aren’t leaving it to face Natisha alone.”
“Aww.” She beamed up at him. “You’re on Team Atlanta.”
“I always have been.”
“No, you were on Team Hadley. This is different. This is you caring about more than the pack.”
“You’re a bad influence on me.”
“Why, thank you.”
“This is also our fault,” he admitted as Bishop parked the truck across from the Active Oval portal.
“No.” She got to her feet, stretched. “It’s not.”
“Not directly,” he agreed, “but we’re descended from the reason Natisha craves revenge. We kept the link to her past, and to the area, alive through calling on her in times of need.”
Lips parted on her argument, Hadley leaned forward and squinted. “Is that…Ares?”
Sure enough, among the enforcers positioned around the portal, stood Ares.
She was leaner, paler, and her eyes were glassy, but she appeared determined to hold the line.
Leaping over the side of the truck, Midas opened the door for his mother. “Why is Ares here?”
“She had a seizure after you left.” She stepped onto the asphalt. “Thank God, Abbott was still in the infirmary when the building went on lockdown. He evaluated her, and when he couldn’t find the problem, he sedated her.”
Midas pivoted to help Hadley down, who was listening in, and she came to stand beside him.
“Abbott got another call, about thirty minutes later, saying Liz was experiencing the same symptoms.”
Usually, his mother didn’t make him fight this hard for answers, but there were too many ears here.
“She almost lost the baby,” she confided with a hand pressed over her heart. “She was terrified.” Pain in her eyes urged him to reach out, take her hand in his. “She had two choices. Come clean with Abbott, or risk her pregnancy terminating.” She squeezed his fingers then let him go, an alpha standing on her own. “That’s the only reason she confessed to lacing Ares’s food with burundanga.”
“That sounds familiar.” Hadley rubbed the base of her skull. “I can’t remember why.”
“Burundanga is the street name for the drug scopolamine,” his mother explained. “It’s called ‘Devil’s Breath’ or ‘the zombie drug.’ It’s odorless and tasteless and lethal in high doses. No surprise, as it’s made from plants in the nightshade family. It stupefies its victims, making them more open to suggestion, and they wake with no memory of what they did—or what was done to them. The drug vanishes from the bloodstream within four hours, so there was no way to test for it.”
Midas heard his doubt, sharp and thick. “You’re saying Liz had Ares under her control the whole time?”
“I’m saying we might never know how much influence Liz exerted over Ares,” Tisdale said carefully, “but Ares fought to undermine her every step of the way, and that makes me believe she was aware her control was slipping.” Her lips thinned. “She blamed her behavior on protecting her mate. That might be true, to an extent, but it could also be the answer her mind grasped wh
en she was unable to comprehend the reasons behind her actions.”
As much as he wanted his mother to be right, for Ares to be innocent, he recalled the heartbreak Hadley endured while she believed Boaz and Adelaide were dead too clearly to walk over and shake Ares’s hand or welcome her back.
Right now, they needed every able fighter in the streets, he got that, but a thorough investigation waited for Ares when this was over if she wanted to resume her job with its present security clearance.
Those results, he knew, would go a long way toward helping him and Hadley make their peace with her.
A throbbing at the base of his skull made it hard to focus. “What does the drug have to do with Liz?”
“The drug was laced with magic to make it more potent,” she explained. “Ares’s metabolism would have chewed it up and spat it out otherwise.” Drugs and alcohol had little effect on shifters. They had to work hard to get drunk or high, and neither lasted long enough to be worth the expense. “Liz was already in withdrawal from not using her magic. Either she wasn’t careful with the drug, or she was desperate for a hit. She became addicted in the process.” Her silver hair gleamed as she shook her head. “Abbott found Liz’s stash right where she said it would be. In their apartment, in a sugar tin. He’s analyzing the compound to create a better treatment, but until then, he’s using it to wean her and Ares off it.”
Fingers laced at her navel, Hadley asked, “Will that affect the baby?”
“The magical nature of Liz’s conception means we can’t be certain whether or not the baby will be born with the serious health issues associated with addicts’ pregnancies.”
As much as he hated to ask, he had to know. “How sure are you that we can trust Ares?”
“Liz was willing to tell us everything,” his mother said, “in order to make the pain stop.”
Hope kindled within him for his friend, but he tempered it with caution. “How’s the baby?”
“There’s still a heartbeat.” Lines gathered across her forehead. “Lisbeth is guarding her.”
Abbott, he knew, would be caring for the wounded. Lisbeth was a solid second choice, given her nursing certification and position within the OPA, to monitor Liz.
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