by Linsey Hall
I was almost there. Sweat chilled my skin and my lungs burned as I ran. I shot out into the courtyard that marked the finish line. Just in time to see another competitor race toward the last remaining flag and grab it off the post.
My heart dropped.
The three other members of my class already stood within the circle, each gripping a flag in their hand.
There were no more flags left.
I was last.
Shit.
I slowed to a walk, determined not to show my disappointment. Maybe I’d gotten unlucky and my route was harder? Or maybe I sucked at this.
But moping wouldn’t change anything. A stiff upper lip would do wonders, though. The ol’ pick-yourself-up-and-brush-yourself-off was my familiar friend.
“Sorry, man,” Bree murmured from my comms charm.
I looked up, catching sight of her hovering high in the sky. Her silver wings gleamed in the moonlight.
I smiled up at her, then approached the group. My three classmates were all in their late teens and early twenties like me. Jude, the head of the Undercover Protectorate, was a striking woman in her mid-thirties. Her dark skin gleamed in the light of the moon and her blue eyes sparkled with stars in their depths. Long braids stretched down her back.
Jude ran the Paranormal Investigative Team, the unit that Bree had joined when she’d graduated from the Academy. Our other friends were part of that unit as well. It was the most prestigious, and Jude always oversaw the obstacle course. Since I wanted to join my sister in her unit—the PITs as they were laughingly called—I’d usually be glad to talk to Jude.
Now that I’d come in last?
Yeah, not my best moment. Skulking around in the shadows sounded good right about now.
I stiffened my spine and stopped in front of everyone, keeping my eyes off the red flags gripped in their hands. Lavender shot me a victorious look, and I wanted to kick her.
So I wasn’t a good loser. Sue me.
“Well done, everyone,” Jude said, but I swore her eyes gleamed with disappointment when she looked at me. Confusion, at least, since I was supposed to be an all-powerful Dragon God like my sister, but I was decidedly not. “You all did—” Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted behind me, spotting something.
I turned, seeing the three cats who’d helped me along the way. They sat about fifteen feet behind me. This close, the hairless black one—a sphynx—looked like a beat-up old tom who’d seen a lot in his day. A white spot marked his chest, his whiskers were frazzled, and his green eyes blazed at me. A matching emerald earring pierced his left ear. Magic filled the air around him, an unusual signature of green grass.
“Meow.” You are gazing upon the great Muffin of the Highlands!
I shook my head. Was I hearing him in my head?
Of course you are, you ninny. Do you think magical cats just meow?
A magical cat.
“But…Muffin?” I asked.
What? Muffin is a fine name! He looked toward the white cat and muttered, I really thought she’d be more impressed.
“I am!”
He shot me a look that said he didn’t buy it, then nodded at the white cat. That is Princess Snowflake III.
Next to him, the fluffy white Persian licked blood from her chops. Her fangs were unusually long—perfect for tearing the throats out of demons. The fat diamond hanging around her neck was splattered with blood. She glared at me with an evil eye, belying her pretty face and fur.
At her side, the small orange cat licked his butt. He looked up, cross-eyed and goofy-looking. He wore no jewels, but then, he didn’t seem like the type.
Muffin meowed. And that is Bojangles.
For fate’s sake—Bojangles?
Who the heck were these three?
“Did you pick up some friends?” Jude asked.
I looked away from the cats and met her gaze. “I’m not sure. But I think they must be a local cat gang,” I joked, hiking a thumb at the black sphynx, Muffin. “He’s the leader.”
Muffin gave a deep meow, as if he agreed with me.
“Actually, those are the Cats of Catastrophe,” Angus said, his Edinburgh accent thick. He was the only local member of my class. “They are a local cat gang. They run a racket down by the docks, tricking the fishermen into giving them fish.”
“And stealing,” Jude said. “I’ve never seen the Cats of Catastrophe before, but I’ve heard of them. They run jewel heists on the Royal Mile.”
“Jewels?” That explained how they’d gotten the sparkles, but still….
Actual cat burglars?
I turned back to look at the gang. Muffin had taken up with the butt licking, and the orange one was now bouncing around, chasing a bug. Princess Snowflake III continued to glare at me.
Why had they helped me?
As if she could read my thoughts, Jude said, “They chose you.”
“I don’t know why,” I said. But I was grateful. I wouldn’t have made it past the demons.
“Either way, it can only be a good thing,” she said.
I hoped she was right, because I’d just totally biffed the obstacle course and come in last. That was one more mark against me, setting me even farther back from graduating. Right now, I needed all the good things I could get. And if that was the assistance of a magical cat gang—which sounded ridiculous, frankly—I was going to take it.
2
As we all departed the clearing to head back to the Undercover Protectorate, Bree landed next to me, folding her silvery wings back into her body. Her dark hair shined in the moonlight, and sympathy gleamed in her eyes.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, staving her off. “I’m fine. I’ll get ‘em next time.”
“Jude said she’d never seen someone do so well against that many demons before.” Bree tapped the golden comms charm around her neck. “She told me.”
“I had my magical cat gang.”
“Without them, she said. Though they did help with the end.” She shook her head. “There were more demons than usual, according to Jude. Someone mistakenly hired too many. It wasn’t fair.”
I smiled at her. “Life isn’t fair.”
We’d been driven from our homes as children, hunted because we were Dragon Gods. Our mother had been killed by those who had stalked us—so I was very familiar with how not fair life was.
“Too true.” Bree smiled and looped her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We followed the group back through the quiet streets of Edinburgh, hanging toward the back. Occasionally, I’d glance back to see if the cats were still following me.
They were.
Weird.
When we reached the main street in the Grassmarket, which had nothing at all to do with grass—at least not these days—we made our way quickly toward the portal that would take us to the Undercover Protectorate’s castle. The portal sat within a darkened alley between a bar and a tartan shop, glowing blue and bright. Only members of the Protectorate could see and enter it.
I stepped through the portal last, letting the ether suck me in. It was a wild ride before it spat me out in a small enchanted forest in Northern Scotland. Night birds chirped, and the wind whistled through the ancient, twisted trees. The forest sat within the walls of the castle, and the portal connected it to the city, giving us easy access to everything we could want.
Bree stumbled out of the portal after me, grinning. “I love how close we are to downtown.”
“Me too.”
We hurried down the path that cut between the gnarled trees. Fairy lights danced around us, sparkling and bright, but the fae were long gone from here.
When we stepped out onto the rolling lawn that surrounded the castle, the moonlight gleamed on the massive structure that sat in the middle. Towers and turrets reached for the sky, while the mullioned glass glittered with golden light from within.
“I’ll never get sick of it,” Bree said.
“Same.” The Protectorate had found us
a few months ago when we’d been in seriously dire straits, about to be killed by a wizard who we’d run afoul of.
Because of our rare magic, the Protectorate had invited us to work with them—if we could pass their training academy.
“At this rate, it’s going to be years before I pass,” I said.
“You’re doing better than you think,” Bree said.
I hoped she was right, because I really wanted to earn my place here.
The alternative was…unthinkable.
Ahead of us, Jude and the rest of the class hurried across the lawn to the castle, but Bree and I veered toward the old stables that sat near the huge wall that surrounded the castle grounds.
Rowan would be in there, no doubt, and we wanted to check up on her. A month ago, we’d rescued her from captivity. She’d spent five horrible years as a hostage, but she was starting to adjust well. Nothing kept Rowan down for long. There were still shadows in her eyes, but they were fading.
The old stone stables no longer contained horses, though the smell still lingered. Instead, it served as the castle’s garage.
As expected, we found Rowan in the stables with the buggy, our souped-up monster truck that we’d brought with us from our old life. We’d joined the Protectorate back in the summer, leaving behind Death Valley Junction, a remote desert town full of supernaturals where we’d spent most of our lives hiding from the ones who hunted us.
We’d made a living by driving outlaws through Death Valley, and the buggy was the only thing that had helped us make it across safely. It was totally armored, covered with poisoned spikes, and outfitted with platforms from which to fight off the desert monsters who haunted the valley.
It’d been a fun life, but ultimately, we’d wanted more. And living out in the open had been too dangerous for Dragon Gods like ourselves. We were hunted and feared—folks either wanted to use us for our magic or kill us.
This was a safer life, and a better one. Here, we had an opportunity to do good in the world.
As long as I could pass the Academy.
In the stable, Rowan’s booted feet stuck out from under the front of the buggy. It was my baby—I’d helped build every bit of it. If I could operate from this thing, I’d ace the Academy.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t allowed.
Rowan rolled out from under the truck and grinned up at us. “How’d it go?”
“Not great.” I winced at the memory of coming in last.
She stood, her black hair shining. She wore all black, too, looking stark and beautiful. “That’s okay. You’re still doing better than me.”
Ever since her escape a month ago, she hadn’t been able to access her magic. It could have been a result of trauma or something else, but we had no idea.
“You’ll get it back.”
“Maybe.” She walked toward the side table and set down her wrench. “I’m working on it.”
I needed to quit whining about my own problems. Rowan had it far worse than me, and she managed. True, she was up at three a.m. and working on the truck, so obviously she had some demons. But she wasn’t a whiner.
Her gaze traveled past Bree and me, landing on the open door behind. “Who are they?”
I turned, spotting the Cats of Catastrophe. “My new friends, I think.” I looked back at Rowan. “How’s the engine? Making progress?”
“Yeah, it’s tricky, but I’m almost there.”
“I can help tomorrow.” I wanted to. Working on the buggy was one of my favorite things. It was soothing. Made me feel in control.
“We should all get some sleep,” Bree said.
“Yeah.” Rowan’s jaw tightened.
“Nightmares?” I asked.
“Sometimes.”
Always. It was unspoken but clear.
Footsteps sounded behind us, and I turned.
Caro appeared in the doorway, her short platinum bob gleaming. She was a water mage, and one of the members of the PITs, Jude’s investigative team. She’d become our best friend here, along with Ali and Haris, who were behind her. The two dark-haired djinn’s weren’t kicking their usual hacky sack between them. That, combined with the worry on Caro’s face, made nerves flutter in my stomach. She was usually smiling and peppy—albeit murderous with her water power—so this wasn’t going to be good.
“Meeting time,” Caro said. “We’ve got to hightail it to the round room.”
“The round room?” Crap. That meant it was a big deal. I looked at the massive clock on the other side of the garage. Past 3 a.m., but if it was in the round room…
“Come on.” Caro gestured for us to follow, and we did, flipping off the lights and shutting the door.
The round room was the equivalent of the Protectorate’s war room. When something was really bad, all hands gathered in there. Most of the people were full-time staff who lived at and worked out of the castle, solving magical crimes and protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. There were only a few students at any given moment.
As the six of us walked across the lawn toward the castle, Caro chatted about castle gossip, with Ali and Haris chiming in occasionally. I glanced behind us. The cats were keeping up. As we stepped onto the stone-paved courtyard, the massive wooden doors swung open to permit us entrance.
I stepped through, glancing behind me one last time.
The Cats of Catastrophe strolled along behind us, eyes keen on me.
“Are you seriously following me all the way home?” I asked.
The sphynx gave a low, deep meow that sounded a heck of a lot like a yes. I turned back to enter the main hall, having no idea what to do about the cats.
“You’ve got sidekicks,” Bree said.
A ghostly blue pug flew into the entry hall, transparent wings holding it aloft. The little creature had a big ham gripped in its teeth, but as soon as its gaze landed on Bree, it gave a yip of delight, managing not to drop the ham.
“Speaking of sidekicks.” I pointed to Mayhem, who was most definitely Bree’s sidekick.
Bree grinned at the little pug, who flew circles around her head. We headed toward the round room, with Mayhem leading the way down the stone corridor. The castle was huge, with many different construction styles from all periods in history. This hallway looked ancient, but others looked new—like a fancy mansion.
It was a long way from our old rundown place in Death Valley, that was for sure. We’d barely survived there, so this was a major upgrade.
I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, and I looked behind me.
The Cats of Catastrophe followed along, my silent shadows. I stopped and turned, putting my hands on my hips. “I really appreciate your help, guys. But I don’t know if you’re supposed to be here. I’m kinda new myself, so I can’t really vouch for you.”
Princess Snowflake III glared at me, the little orange one raced ahead to try to catch Mayhem, and Muffin licked his butt.
“You sure told them,” Bree said.
I huffed a laugh. “As if I have any authority over cats.”
I gave them one last look, then sighed and turned around.
As we approached the round room, a strange sense of power rolled out from it. Someone in there was strong.
Stronger than almost any of the supernaturals here, besides Bree—who’d fully come into her Dragon God power—and her boyfriend Cade, a Celtic war god.
I gasped. “Do you feel that?”
“Yeah.” Rowan turned around to look at us, eyes wide. “Mega powerful.”
“Must be part of the problem,” Bree said. “Power like that always comes with problems.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Our massive power—or at least, our potential for power, in my case—had kept us on the run for over a decade.
I slowed as I neared the entrance to the round room, drawing in the heady sense of magic that flowed out. There were dozens of magical signatures. Each type of supernatural had their own, and they generally correlated to one of the five senses. Or more than one sense,
if you had a lot of magic.
But one person in there was seriously powerful and wasn’t afraid to let it be known. While it was possible to hide your magical signature if you had the skill, this person clearly felt no need.
The room was crowded when we entered. The big round table had been removed, and the space was filled with people sitting in folding chairs. A crowd had gathered near the front, so I couldn’t see who was standing up there, but I craned my neck to get a look at the person with the powerful magic. All I saw was a sea of heads and horns and wings—the Protectorate was full of all sorts.
We found a seat in the back, and the three Cats of Catastrophe joined us, each taking a seat for themselves.
“What the heck?” I muttered.
At the front, Jude clapped loudly and shouted, “Take your seats!”
People sat, and I got my first glimpse of the person with the power. My breath whooshed out of me.
Thank fates I was seated.
The man standing at the front was insanely beautiful—in a raw, powerful kind of way. He had to be well over six feet tall. Though he wore dark jeans and a black jacket, it wasn’t hard to see that he was built like a boxer.
But his face…
Like a fallen angel, here to deliver justice. But a dark angel, with black hair and eyes. Handsome, yet a tiny bit scary in his perfection.
I swallowed hard.
Next to me, Rowan whistled low in her throat. “Who’s the hottie?”
His eyes shifted toward us, passing over Rowan and landing on me.
Where they stayed.
Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. Not because he had some kind of power over me, but because I was some kind of infatuated moron. Which was a power in itself, actually.
And that annoyed the crap out of me.
I scowled at him, giving him my best hairy eyeball.
His brows rose.
With our gazes locked, it was impossible not to notice his magical signatures. Despite the dozens filling the room, his signatures cut through the others, rolling over me in waves.
His magic sounded like the low roll of distant thunder and smelled like leather and pine. It tasted of caramel and surrounded him in an aura of silver light. But the feel of it…