I rolled my eyes. “Did you and my dad compare notes?”
Crowe ignored me and stepped into the living room. I ran right into his back when he pulled up short.
“What is it?” I said, and followed him through the doorway.
As soon as the heavy cigar smoke and autumn leaves scene hit me, I knew. Slowly, I leaned around Crowe.
From the entryway, the room had looked like a normal living room. Couch. Coffee table. Empty beer cans on the floor. A TV on the wall.
Now we were standing in the middle of the woods, surrounded by wolves.
“Crap,” I whispered.
“Yep,” Crowe said.
We both knew it was an illusion. We were standing inside Flynn’s house, after all, and half the time you just couldn’t trust your senses around the guy. But while illusions weren’t real, and even less real when you knew they were there, they could still feel real. If the wolves were so inclined to eat us alive, we’d feel every bit of that pain.
“Don’t move,” Crowe said.
The pines rustled as the wind kicked up. The scent of the sap on the air and the earth beneath my feet overwhelmed the smell of the magic itself. I could smell the muskiness of the wolves, hear the vibration of their snarls in the backs of their throats.
Crowe stretched a hand out, then snapped it closed, and the wolf closest to us crumbled into a whimpering heap. Three more wolves took its place. Crowe took out another, and another three wolves appeared.
“Okay, so don’t kill the wolves,” I said.
“Goddamn it, Flynn!” Crowe shouted.
A giant gray wolf crept closer, its lips pulled back, baring its fangs. It snarled, tensed, and leapt.
Crowe lunged in front of me and the wolf clamped down on his forearm, sinking its fangs into his flesh. Blood splattered the speckled gray fur at the wolf’s throat and Crowe hissed. A black wolf charged toward me, but I pivoted at the last second and it barreled past me.
A third wolf—a roan female—nipped at Crowe’s free arm while he struggled to free himself from the gray.
“Barrier, Jemmie!” he shouted.
“What?” I scanned the woods, looking for something to use as a weapon.
“Use a goddamn barrier spell!”
The desperation in his voice sliced my fear at the seams. Relying on reflex and instinct, I dropped to one knee and slammed my hand into the dirt. The magic left me like a great wave crashing over stone, spreading out in all the spaces in between. The barrier mushroomed up and around us, blue and glittering like a firecracker. I nearly choked on the astringent fumes of it. I could barely see through its sapphire ribbons twisting in the air around my body.
Sweat beaded on my forehead, and sudden dizziness made me pitch forward. Crowe was next to me in an instant, his hands on my shoulders, keeping my face from hitting the floor. Just beyond our little bubble of protection, the curse-wolves snapped and snarled.
A light flicked on overhead. The wolves disappeared. The woods faded into the walls of the living room and Flynn stood over us, blinking against the light.
“What the hell are you two doing on the floor?”
Crowe examined his arm. The skin was still whole, the flesh unmarred. All the blood that had covered him a second ago was gone.
Crowe closed his eyes, panting. “You asshole.”
“What?” Flynn said, and shrugged. He dropped into his easy chair and lit a cigarette. “You said we needed extra precautions, what with all these other clubs in town. So,” he spread his hands out, “extra precautions.”
Crowe held his arm to his chest, like it still ached from the phantom bite. “I could kill you right now.”
“It’ll fade in a few minutes.”
“I could still kill you.”
Flynn laughed. “But you won’t. It’s six in the morning. Who wants to take care of a body at six in the morning? Not I, I tell you. Of course, I’d be the body in question, so…”
I stood up and held out a hand to Crowe. He ignored it and climbed to his feet.
“What’s this about anyway?” Flynn took a hit off his cigarette. Smoke curled in the air.
“Can’t find Alex, and she’s not returning anyone’s calls or texts.” Crowe perched himself on the arm of the couch and leaned forward, hands on his knees.
“Well, she was pretty pissed at you—”
“I know. And I don’t care. Have you seen her?”
“Not since last night.”
“When?”
“She left the festival around ten with that boy, you know?”
Crowe gritted his teeth. “No, I don’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Ahhh…” Flynn snapped his fingers. “That boy, the son of the bartender at the Schoolhouse?”
“Dara’s son, Stephen?” I said.
“That’s the one.” Flynn flicked ash into an empty tuna fish can. “He seems harmless enough.”
“Yeah, but Alex would never leave the festival with him,” I said. She had always been kind to him, but he was gangly and awkward, his face covered in acne. Dara hooked up with one of the Devils seventeen years ago and got pregnant. When Stephen started showing signs of having inherited his father’s power, Stoneking terra magic, he’d been taken under the wing of the Devils’ League. He wasn’t a member and wouldn’t be eligible for years, but people looked out for him. He was harmless.
I glanced at Crowe. “This is all wrong.”
Crowe nodded and hung his head.
“What’s wrong?” Flynn asked.
“Brooke said she saw Alex leave with her mom,” I said.
“And you saw her leave with Stephen around the same time,” Crowe said.
Flynn took another drag from his cigarette. “Well, that’s not good. Think it was an illusion?”
“Alex couldn’t cast, even using a cut,” I said. “Her magic is bound.” I remembered the look on her face when she’d told me it was still gone, and guilt sat heavy in my gut.
“Someone else could have cast it,” said Crowe.
“I didn’t do it,” Flynn said, like he needed to defend himself. “I swear it.” He was serious now.
“I believe you.” Crowe stood up and fished out his cell phone. He dialed someone’s number, and when they picked up on the other end, he said, “Meet me at the Schoolhouse in fifteen minutes.” He hung up without a good-bye.
“Get dressed,” he told Flynn. “You’re coming, too.”
Flynn nodded and disappeared down a hallway.
“And me?” I said.
“You too. I’m going to need you.”
Mom texted me as I pulled into the Schoolhouse parking lot. Where are you?
Nothing to do but tell the truth. With Crowe. I have the car. Alex took off and we’re looking for her.
Should I be worried?
No. I’m fine. She’s probably fine, too. At least, I hoped so.
And Crowe?
I glanced up as Flynn and Crowe arrived on their bikes. Worried about Alex, I texted.
Working the lunch shift today. Will I see you later?
I let her know I’d check in with her when I knew about Alex, and she seemed fine with that. I got out and walked across the lot to meet Flynn and Crowe, noting from the cars and bikes around me that Lori Medici and most of the Devils’ League must already be inside. Crowe took the steps up two at a time and held the door for me so I could enter ahead of him. Lori met us in the hallway.
“No one has any news,” she told Crowe.
Crowe squeezed her shoulder as he walked past. I followed them down the hall to the bar area.
Boone and Jackson sat in one of the booths along the wall. Flynn went over and joined them. Hardy sat, propped on a barstool, looking like he might still be slightly drunk from the night before.
Crowe went behind the bar, poured himself a shot of whiskey, and slung it back. When he was finished, he slammed the glass on the bar top. Dark circles ringed his eyes. It was now nearly seven and he hadn’t been to bed
yet.
In a terse voice, he relayed the news that Alex was missing, and that someone had cast an illusion to conceal who she left with.
“Was Stephen even at the festival?” Boone asked.
“Yeah,” Hardy said. “Saw him not long after Jemmie left.”
“Was Dara there, too?”
Only a few drecks were allowed at the festival. Only those who knew the world, and Dara knew a lot about it. She would have been invited, since her son was still a minor.
“I saw her,” Jackson said. “She was playing tag with the kids in the field near the parking lot.”
“Then I need to talk to her,” said Crowe.
“What’s Dara got to do with it?” I asked. “We already agreed Stephen didn’t actually leave with Alex.”
Crowe dug his cell phone from his pocket. “Think. Why did people see Alex leave with two different people?”
Flynn said, “A complete illusion will be seen and felt by all. An unstable one will produce varied results.”
Lori clutched a coffee cup in both hands. “Not enough power to cast a complete illusion. The caster would have to be selective about who it would affect.”
“Exactly.” Crowe scrolled through his contacts. “The illusion was probably only for the people likely to stop Alex from leaving—the Devils. Whoever it was would have been interested in only one thing: getting Alex out. Dara isn’t a Devil, and we know she was by the lot. She could have seen the real guy.”
Once he’d found Dara in his phone, he made the call and put it on speaker. She answered with a sleepy voice.
“Did you see Alex leave the festival last night?” Crowe asked, skipping a greeting altogether.
“Yeah. Just after ten, I think.”
Crowe spread his arms out, hands propped on the bar top as he hunched closer to the phone. “On her own—or with somebody?”
“She was with a guy.” Dara sounded a little nervous.
“I need you to tell us as much about this guy as you can. What did he look like?” Crowe asked.
“He was young. Looked a little older than Stephen, but not by much. He was six foot, maybe? Blond hair. He was wearing a white T-shirt and those god-awful skinny jeans.”
My throat closed up. Her description sounded an awful lot like Darek.
We all looked at one another.
Dara must have read into the silence, because she asked, “Why? Is something wrong with Alex?”
Crowe ignored her question. “If you think of anything else, call me, yeah?”
“Sure, of course.”
With the call ended, Hardy let out a sigh and scrubbed at his eyes. “That description sounds an awful lot like that Deathstalker prospect kid.”
“I don’t know what it is about that guy, but he pisses me off,” Crowe said, his fingers curling into fists.
I cringed internally. I knew he’d noticed Darek last night, but I hadn’t realized he’d taken such an instant disliking to him.
Crowe straightened abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. “Fucking Deathstalkers! I should have killed that kid when I had the chance. Killian probably ordered him to take Alex. God only knows what he’s done with her.”
“Crowe,” Lori said, clearly trying to calm her son, “I’m worried, too, but it’s dangerous to jump to conclusions.”
“I know, Ma, but can you blame me?” He came around the bar and started to pace, his hands on his hips. No one said anything. Inside, I felt like my guts had been knotted a hundred different ways. Had Darek really left the festival with Alex? Where had they gone? Why hadn’t he called me back last night? Or texted me?
I checked my phone again and found nothing.
“Jemmie,” Crowe said, finally turning his attention to me. He opened his mouth to speak, glanced around, then said, “Can I talk to you in the hallway?”
Frowning, I followed him out of the bar area. Did he know I knew Darek? “What’s up?”
“You think you can cast a locator spell?”
Relief rolled through me. My secret was still safe. But it wasn’t just that—a glow of gratitude warmed my cold thoughts. He’d asked me privately about the magic, instead of putting me on the spot in front of everyone. Except… the look in his eyes was so intense that, even here, with just the two of us, that’s exactly where I was.
I sighed. Could I really say no? He was so desperate to find her.
And I was desperate to know why she and Darek had left together.
“I can try.”
Crowe nodded. “Let’s go to the house and find something of Alex’s to strengthen the spell.”
For a second, I watched him as he walked ahead of me to the door. I couldn’t help but notice the heaviness in his shoulders, as if he was having a hard time keeping himself upright.
“You should get some rest, Crowe,” I said.
He barely glanced at me as he replied, “I’ll get some rest when I know my sister is safe.”
TEN
AS CROWE AND I CUT ACROSS THE SCHOOLHOUSE PARKING lot, clouds rolled in, blocking out the early light of day. The air had turned chilly and brisk. A storm definitely seemed imminent.
Several paces ahead of me, Crowe threw on his Devils’ League vest. He glanced at me over a shoulder when he reached his motorcycle, the wind tousling his hair into a perfect mess.
“You want to ride together or meet me there?” he asked.
“What do you think?”
He didn’t answer, just slid on his black helmet, flipping the tinted visor closed with a definitive snap. While most of the Devils rode traditional Harleys with chrome everything, Crowe owned a 1960s model that he’d customized himself. The frame was matte black from rear to front, and so was just about everything else on it.
Though I knew very little about Harleys, I had to admit Crowe’s was practically a work of art. No one knew their way around a bike quite like he did. In fact, he had an annoying talent for fixing just about anything. Except our relationship, apparently.
Without waiting for me, he started the bike up and tore out of the lot, the roar of the engine echoing through the neighborhood. The sound of his bike used to make my heart do funny things. Now it just irritated me.
The Medici house was on the north side of town, tucked into the center of dense woods, and as I wound my way down the mile-long drive, I tried to prepare myself for what was about to happen. It wasn’t just that I was going to try to do magic on purpose, that I would have to brace myself for the smell and the sight and the feeling that was about to crush me like a tsunami. It was also the first time I would be alone in the Medici house with Crowe since the night we’d kissed.
When the trees finally gave way to the house and I saw Crowe’s bike sitting in front, I inhaled and exhaled three measured breaths. I’d read somewhere that doing so helped with anxiety and stress. Turns out it didn’t help me at all.
I parked and climbed out of the car. I entered one of the open garage bays and was greeted by the familiar scent of grease and gasoline. The Medici garage was not used for parking; it was used for wrenching. Several bikes were torn apart, their pieces strewn around in what looked like a nonsensical mess but was actually Crowe’s version of order.
The door to the house squeaked open, and Crowe handed me a bottle of water when I met him on the steps.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the offering.
Crowe passed the staircase and headed for the screened-in porch on the other side of the house. I hesitated in the living room, unsure if I should follow him or leave him be.
A glutton for punishment, I went to the porch, my heart pounding erratically in my chest.
A little over a year ago, I’d crashed with Alex after a night out to celebrate my seventeenth birthday. But when I couldn’t sleep, I’d gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water and noticed someone on the porch.
I’d found Crowe sitting out there alone in the dark, drinking straight from a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He’d never told me what propelled him from his own
bed that night, and at the time, I hadn’t cared. The sight of him there was too thrilling, too tempting.
The older we got, the less time Crowe spent with Alex and me. By that point, I was starving for his attention, trying to remember what it was like before, when the thing I needed was plentiful, when I took it for granted.
He’d offered me the Jack and smiled a lazy smile. “Wanna join me?”
I did.
We drank and talked. We laughed at the stupid things we did when we were kids. In that late, first hour together, we’d closed the space between us on the couch until I was sitting right next to him, my knee touching his. I wasn’t sure when my feelings toward him had changed, when I’d stopped looking at him like an annoying older brother and started looking at him like something more. It had happened gradually, but by then I had been aware of it for at least a couple of years. And suddenly he was close and the air was warm, and I was drunk on something other than the Jack.
“I miss this,” I’d told him that night. “I miss you.”
He’d glanced at me, his stupidly handsome face painted in the glow of the moon. I ’d recognized that glint in his eyes right away because I felt it, too. I even had a name for it: hunger.
“Oh, Jemmie Carmichael,” he’d said, and then he kissed me, hard and fast, his hands ghosting over my skin.
When he pulled away, just enough to get a breath, lick his already wet lips, I shivered and tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him back in.
I’m not sure how far it would have gone if we’d been given the chance. But the sun had started to come up and footsteps thudded down the stairs, and Crowe and I lurched away from each other like we were on fire.
Lori had poked her head into the porch and given us the kind of look you give someone when they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t.
As we’d prepared to leave for the festival in New Orleans, I’d floated in a state of near-constant euphoria. Stupidly, I’d wondered whether Crowe would spend time with me there. I’d imagined us walking through the grounds, hand in hand. And then, the first night of the festival, I’d seen him with Katrina Niklos. He saw me, too. Looked me right in the eye. Then he’d pulled Katrina to him and kissed her on the mouth. He’d walked away with his arm around her waist, and I’d ended up drunk in a swamp. If it hadn’t been for Darek, I might have been eaten by a giant reptile.
Devils & Thieves Series, Book 1 Page 11