by Carmen Caine
As I followed Lucian towards a cluster of tables, I caught two large eyes floating through the tube over my head from the corner of my eye. A double take revealed only a flurry of bubbles.
I frowned.
Maybe indulging in Charmed mana had unintended side effects. I did feel a tad lightheaded.
I stalked after Lucian, but a man at a nearby table caught my eye. Or, his eyebrows did, anyway. He recognized me the same instant that I did him. It was Mr. Caterpillar-brow man from the blitzkrieg van, along with a couple of his companions, including the sacrificial lamb.
I couldn’t resist a small detour.
“Hey there, boys!” I smiled, leaning down to fold my elbows chummily on their table.
Was it the lighting, or did they all just turn as white as ghosts?
They just stared at me, their eyes growing round.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay and play. Lucian hadn’t waited. “Maybe later, huh?” I suggested, grinning. And then with a wave—which they didn’t return—I headed after the self-centered warlock.
He hadn’t gone far, just to a small table near the wall where we found Heath and Tabitha nursing half-empty beer mugs and a bowl of peanuts.
Heath was hard to miss. The funky lighting illuminated his Hawaiian shirt and shell necklace, making him stand out like a glow stick in the dark. As I joined them, he grinned and patted an empty leather-covered stool.
Tabitha watched me with unblinking eyes. I dipped my head in respect, but she didn’t bat an eyelash. She’d covered her bald head with a white shoulder-length wig, and decked in a blue sheath dress with intricate henna designs on her hands, arms, and neck, she looked more dragon-like than ever. I made a quick mental note to read up—as soon as possible—on just how one befriended cranky snakes.
Again, eyes whizzed by, eyes accompanied by a flurry of bubbles in the tubes snaking up the wall behind Heath’s back. This time, I was sure I’d seen them, two pale orbs, but there were so many bubbles and the tubing wound around in such intricate loops that I quickly lost track of which tube to follow.
“The pack’s still out on the mission, man,” Heath’s voice rose above the background murmur. “Got ‘em on the run.”
“Then keep them running,” Lucian grunted before arching an expectant brow. “And?”
“Ready whenever he shows.” Heath grinned, patting his shirt pocket. “We’ll intercept the shipment, no doubt about it, man.” That was Heath. Ever the optimist.
Lucian dropped the miniaturized marionette version of the hawk-nosed wizard onto the table. “This will ensure it,” he said in chilled tones.
So, it was a Charmed stakeout. Or, from the harsh gleam in Lucian’s eye, maybe some Charmed version of torture to elicit information. In any event, I didn’t feel much pity for Samuel.
I leaned forward to hear better when Lucian’s wards dipped and I got a delicious lungful of his mana. I’d just indulged in an array of exotic manas and felt borderline tipsy, but the handsome warlock at my side was still beyond tempting. I leaned into him. Somehow, my hand slid over his shoulder, creeping for his chest, the heart chakra. His strong fingers stopped me, clamping over my wrist.
To my relief, his scent winked out at once.
“Concentrate,” he growl-shouted in a way that I was certain only he could. “You’re here to work, not play.”
My acidic retort was subverted by the return of the mysteriously elusive eyeballs. This time, I got a good look at them—and immediately wished I hadn’t. There was no mistaking that cheesy grin that accompanied them.
Ricky.
An Unexpected Turn
Ricky waved as he rocketed past, bubbles ejecting from his nose like twin jet streams. The little beast never failed to conjure up a dichotomy of emotions within me, and this time, it was a split between supreme annoyance and absolute amusement. This time, the last one edged out the first, probably because I was high on Charmed mana.
I snorted a giggle.
Lucian’s pale eyes latched onto mine, the look brimming with suspicion.
Fortunately, Heath chose that moment to interrupt. “Yep, there’s Samuel,” he said with a low, surprised whistle. “Just like you said.”
Sure enough, the hawk-nosed wizard had arrived at the aquarium bar. Still dressed in his garish suit, he stood out like a sore thumb and a geeky one at that.
A cool, mirthless smile graced Lucian’s lips. He was clearly pleased with himself. “Keep sharp,” was all he said.
Swallowing my amusement, I watched Samuel elbow his way between two stylish young women, but he’d scarcely delivered his lecherous grin before they fell away like lemmings abandoning a sinking ship. The warlock didn’t seem to mind, though. He probably had years of rejection experience. He settled in comfortably and ordered a drink.
At our table, Lucian began to drum his fingers on the miniature marionette’s head.
“Bingo,” Heath said suddenly, tapping his earlobe. “He’s broadcasting.”
The hawk-nosed warlock had downed his shot and tilted his head to one side.
“Intercept,” Lucian ordered crisply, his expression an almost maniacal one. “Gloria won’t come herself. But at least one of the Chosen Ones lounging around here are hers. Be alert.”
I laughed a little at that. “One?” I repeated, finding that funny. “There’s five.” Relaxed. That’s what I felt. I could get hooked on Charmed mana. In spite of all that had transpired the past few days, I felt all warm and fuzzy inside.
It took me a second to realize that Lucian and Heath were watching me in astonishment.
“You can smell clan affiliations?” Lucian asked with a glimmer of disbelief tingeing his tone.
Heath was much more appreciative. “Sweet!” The werewolf’s eyes widened in admiration. “I can’t do that. Didn’t know anyone could, actually.” He leaned forward, obviously wanting to chat and compare abilities.
But Lucian turned all business and interrupted with a, “Where are they, Cassidy?”
I began to turn, but he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t look at them,” he hissed in warning. “Undercover, remember? The Templars near the bar are watching every move we make. They’re dangerous.”
His pale, silvery gaze flicked to where two men hunkered over shot glasses at a table near the tiered aquariums. One wore a Seattle Seahawks jersey. The square line of his jaw and tight skin announced a youth at decided odds with the gray hair poking out from under a red baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. The other man reminded me of a chubby Italian opera singer. Both men were distinctive. Unusual. And judging by their mana, decidedly human. Definitely spider-free.
“They’ve been building a case against me for months,” Lucian continued in low tones. “I can’t have them springing it right now. Not those two. They’re worse than Culpepper, a completely different ballpark. So, no mistakes, not even a whiff.”
Ricky chose that moment to swoosh by.
I cleared my throat. “Not a whiff, eh?” Was Ricky considered more or less than a whiff? I was still relaxed enough to let my lips twitch at the thought.
Fortunately, Lucian didn’t notice my distraction this time. His attention had shifted back to Heath. “So?” he prompted with a single word.
The werewolf didn’t answer at first. He’d taken a crystal from his pocket and twirled it discreetly in the palm of his hand. I could tell it was Charmed, but it was an unusual form of mana, one I’d never encountered before. The smell reminded me of damp, autumn leaves.
All of sudden, Heath froze. “Got the beam,” he said, a triumphant grin splitting his lips. “You’re right. He’s contacting the Terzi. How’d you know he was a mole? Impressive, dude.”
Lucian accepted his compliment with a chillingly crisp nod. “They’ll answer soon,” he answered with a single-minded focus. “Soon, proof of his betrayal will be forever etched in stone. Emilio will have no choice. Samuel’s a dead man walking.”
And Samuel just might have remained a dead man … if Ricky hadn�
�t swooped by again.
It all happened quickly after that.
I didn’t have a choice. Not really. If the Templars caught the little imp, they’d just have to hand him a bottle of turmeric and he’d sing like a canary.
Horror consumed my warm fuzziness in one gulp as I watched Ricky bob up and down, riding the tubes on a direct collision course with the Templars. They weren’t going to miss an imp parading over their heads. I had to catch the little miscreant before he got himself—and us—into some real hot water.
I jumped to my feet and lurched into the crowd after Ricky’s wide, gleeful grin. As the imp slid bonelessly above my head, I began to dance to the music. Under the circumstances, it was the best excuse I could think of for waving my arms above my head in order to snag Ricky’s attention.
The little rat in the pipes didn’t respond, but more than one particularly tasty-smelling guy did—along with the two Knights Templars. I wriggled and gyrated, hoping they’d just take me for a woman desperate for attention. They both swiveled on their stools, watching me with avid interest.
I could almost feel Lucian’s seething gaze burning holes in the back of my head.
Even Gloria’s Chosen Ones zeroed in on me like lasers.
So much for stealth and undercover.
With only a few feet remaining before Ricky would be zipping over the Templars’ heads, his eyes finally connected with mine. I shot him a fierce look, complete with a throat-slashing gesture. Aware of the eyes still observing me, I quickly transitioned it into a suggestive trailing of fingers over my lips.
It could have been a response, or a mere coincidence, but at the last second, the little imp flattened into a pancake, closing his eyes to float almost invisibly over the Templars’ table. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Close call.
His tube spilled into an aquarium surrounding the bar. I headed for it, determined to catch the trouble-causer before he got sucked back up to start his fun ride all over again. I arrived just as he shot out the end of the tube, holding onto his toes, his mouth split into the widest grin as though he were on some waterpark slide. He splashed into a top-tier aquarium too high for me to reach. I couldn’t do much, save watch him float on his back like he was chilling out at a pool party.
I kept up my ruse of dancing.
The imp took a nosedive for another tube and slipped through it in a long black string into a large tank right next to me, filled with bright yellow fish. I didn’t think twice. Lifting an access panel, I plunged my hand into the water and went for him. It was like trying to catch a shoelace made of algae.
One of the bartenders wiping the bar with a towel glanced over at me. “Whatcha doing there?” he practically snarled. “Hands out of the tank, lady. This isn’t a sea petting zoo.”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta look out for her hardware,” I said, batting my lashes. “Lost my ring.”
Eyelash-batting didn’t work on this dude. Slapping the towel over his shoulder, he headed towards me just as the jerseyed Templar left his table. From the corner of my eye, I could see Samuel, grinning.
Swearing between clenched teeth, I knocked on the tank’s wall to let Ricky know I meant business.
“Hands out,” the bartender ordered, glowering over me. “Now.”
“But it’s my engagement ring,” I protested, attempting to buy time.
Ricky chose that moment to slither up my sleeve. The runt. I was definitely going to get even. Lifting my dripping arm out of the aquarium, I jiggled my closed fist, feigning success. “Found it!” I said.
The bartender arched a brow as the Knight Templar wearing the baseball cap entered my field of vision and pushed up to the bar just a few feet away. He looked at me with a keen interest. He was a striking man in his thirties despite his white hair. A bit short. My height. His white teeth flashed into a broad smile as he placed his hands, palm down, flat on the bar.
My first instinct was to run. I took a cautious step back—straight into Lucian’s rock-hard abs. I glanced up. He was furious. Well, actually beyond furious. And not just at me. His pale eyes dipped to my sleeve in a way that left no doubt that he knew exactly who lurked there.
I never would’ve played it if I’d been a little less buzzed. But I was. The Knight Templar didn’t look like the kind who would miss much; he’d probably seen Ricky. It was time to throw a curveball. I wasn’t sure he’d bought the ring story I’d told the bartender, but I was willing to chance that he had.
Pouncing on Lucian, I clasped my hands behind his neck. “There you are, handsome,” I squealed, pulling his astonished lips down to mine.
Kissing Lucian was always a dangerous proposition. Even under such circumstances as these. He was angry. Every muscle in his body taut. Tense. But he still responded. The kiss turned into a deeper one than I’d planned, and lasted much longer than I’d intended as well. There was no denying the passion was real, and given the circumstances, it played to our advantage.
The bartender shrugged and turned away. The Knight Templar seemed a little bored himself and more than a shade disappointed as he ordered a drink.
It took Samuel slithering up to join us and ask, “Engaged?” for Lucian to tear his lips from mine.
“You’re engaged?” the hawk-nosed warlock repeated in open challenge.
Lucian cast him a look of ice-cold disdain. Pulling me hard against his chest, he murmured in a sexy rumble, “Let’s go, shall we, sweetheart?”
“Gotta see that ring first,” Samuel inserted with a snide smile.
I arched a brow. Weren’t these two warlocks supposed to be on the same side?
At the bar, the jerseyed Templar’s interest had been caught once again. Tapping his finger on the side of his glass, he leaned his chin in his palm to watch.
Again I was the center of attention.
“Show him the ring, my dear,” Lucian’s deep voice suggested as his hand slid up my spine.
I gaped up at him, surprised at the betrayal, but he merely leaned down to plant a kiss on my forehead.
I felt it then. The third eye. It vibrated with mana, Lucian’s mana. Something cool, hard sprang to life in my fingers. The spell surprised me so much that I dropped the thing growing in my hand.
It sparkled as it fell. A ring dazzling with diamonds.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” Lucian teased lightly as he swooped to pluck it up from the floor. Capturing my hand, he made a show of kissing my finger before sliding the sparkling ring over it with practiced ease.
I raised a brow. He’d missed his calling in life. He should have been an actor. He played the part of a passionate lover with such consummate skill that we received scattered applause and hurrahs from the customers clustered nearby. But they didn’t see what I saw. They didn’t see the rampant fury in those silver-blue eyes peering down at me. Oh, Lucian was displeased. Greatly displeased. It was a look reserved only for me.
The Templar genuinely lost interest then. Pushing himself off the bar, he disappeared into the dancing crowd. As he left, I thought I caught Culpepper’s scent, but it was so faint I chalked it up to imagination.
Samuel was frowning, obviously peeved. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he began jabbering as Lucian slid a hand low over my hip.
“Let’s get out of here,” Lucian bent low to growl in my ear. “The entire operation’s botched.” He frowned. Yep. There he was, back to his old crotchety self.
We’d gone no more than five feet before Samuel blocked our way.
“Emilio,” he said, a gleam of victory dancing in his eyes. “He wants to talk to you. Now.” He extended his phone.
Lucian shoved the man’s arm away. “I’m busy,” he snapped. Grabbing me by the wrist, he moved forward.
But Samuel wasn’t easy to get rid of. “Emilio beckons,” he persisted.
“He can beckon all he wants.” Lucian was just as stubborn. “We’re in a hurry.”
The hawk-nosed warlock’s lips split into a grin. “You can’t ignore him th
is time,” he warned. “The Marchesi demands your presence. At once. Both of you.”
That made Lucian grab the phone and yell something into it. The exchange was a short one, and I could tell by his dark expression that he’d lost. After a moment, he tossed the phone back at Samuel and changed course towards an exit in the corner. I don’t know if it was magic or his feet, but the door flew back with a bang as he burst into a dingy hallway leading to several elevators.
Samuel followed. “Need a ride?” he asked with an oily grin.
Lucian dipped his chin. “It’s been a pleasure,” he replied in a scathing tone. “You’ve done enough. I can take it from here.”
The warlock just grinned wider. We watched in silence as he punched the button to summon the elevators. The doors opened almost at once and with a fake wave, he stepped inside.
No sooner had the doors slid shut than Lucian turned on me. “And what part of undercover, not drawing attention to yourself, did you not understand?” he asked.
He was filled with a quiet rage. Every cell in him vibrated with anger, and the set of his jaw announced he stood on the verge of an explosion. Not wanting Ricky to light the fuse, I shoved my hands into my pockets and hoped the little imp possessed enough intelligence to stay hidden.
I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, the elevators suddenly dinged open, and the very last person I’d ever expected to see, stepped out.
“Cassidy,” his deep voice accosted. “Cassidy Edwards.”
It was the blond dude who’d never bothered to give me his name. The keeper from the Nether Reaches. Mr. High-and-Mighty.
Branded
Gone were the leggings, bow, and thunderbolt arrows. The Nether Reach keeper had changed into jeans and a knit long-sleeved t-shirt complete with a plain gray hoodie, but his attempt at nondescript human failed miserably. He was too striking to fly under any radar.
Lucian clapped a firm hand on the small of my back and swept me into the elevator before I could respond.
“Be gone, keeper,” he snapped. “We’re busy here.”