by Jane Kindred
“May I have this dance, Ms. Dawn?” Lucien’s smile was mischievous. How did he manage to make an offer to dance sound dirty?
Before she could decline, he’d tucked her hand into his and slipped his arm around her waist, turning her toward the dance floor.
He pulled her closer as she started to draw back. “You wouldn’t embarrass me in front of all these people by turning me down, would you?”
“I might.”
“I’ve never been turned down before. It might damage my confidence. Could set me back years emotionally.”
“Then I definitely should.”
Lucien grinned. “But you won’t.”
“Won’t I?”
“I fascinate you.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Theia shoved away from him and stalked to the bar.
Like a persistent mosquito, he was buzzing at her side as she ordered her drink. “What if I blackmailed you? Would you dance with me then?”
Theia whirled on him. “Excuse me?”
“That was an odd little display from the groom. And I swear I saw the best man’s eyes glow with their own fire. Not to mention the fact that someone just dematerialized right in front of us, and everyone is acting like nothing happened.”
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Theia narrowed her eyes. “Do you even know the Diamantes?”
“Of course I do. I’m exactly who I say I am. You can ask Rafael. Our families go back a long way. And there have been rumors about the Diamantes for just as long. Looks like today I’ve seen evidence that those rumors are true.”
“Then maybe you should take up your concerns with Rafe himself, if you know him so well. I’m sure he’d find them very interesting.”
“Ooh.” Lucien gave a sexy little shiver that Theia tried not to physically respond to and failed. “It sounds like you’re suggesting something untoward might befall me. Are you threatening me? I suppose you’re one of them, too.”
Theia’s fists clenched at her sides. “One of what?”
Lucien leaned in intimately close. “Witches, of course.”
Theia laughed. “That’s what you’re planning to blackmail me with? We’re standing in the reception hall of the temple of the Sedona branch of the world’s largest organized coven. It’s not exactly a secret that there are witches here.”
“But it is something of a secret that Rafe Diamante is a necromancer, isn’t it? And that Dev Gideon is the host for a demon?”
It hardly seemed useful to argue the finer points of Rafe’s incidental command of the dead or Dev’s shared physicality with an enslaved dragon from the underworld. The fact was that Lucien’s statement was irrefutable.
Theia hoped the look she was giving him was as murderous as she intended. “What do you want?”
Lucien’s eyes widened and he let out a laugh of pure surprise. “Did you think I was seriously going to blackmail you? Sorry. I have a tendency to take a joke too far. I was just having a little fun with you.”
“Oh, well, I’m so glad it was fun for you. Now you can fuck off.”
“There is a little something I was hoping you could help me with, though.”
Theia sighed, steeling herself for more innuendo.
“I understand you’re working on your master’s in molecular biology at NAU.” That wasn’t creepy-stalkery at all.
“So?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard that Smok Biotech is undertaking a joint venture with the university microbiology lab.”
Theia acknowledged this with an uninterested lift of her eyebrows, even though the new lab actually interested her a great deal. Smok was just the sort of corporation she didn’t want the university to be associated with, a for-profit pharmaceutical giant. At the same time, it offered unprecedented funding opportunities for expanded research.
“I need someone I can trust to provide some oversight on a special project—someone who won’t be fazed by...odd goings-on.” Lucien flashed his crooked smile again, trying to charm her, but seemed to realize the smile wasn’t working on her and let it fade. “To put it bluntly, someone familiar with the supernatural who also understands the science.”
Theia crossed her arms and studied him. “And are you? Familiar with it?”
Something dark seemed to cloud his vision for a moment, but he shook it off and smiled. “Not quite as familiar with it as you are, I’m sure. You might say my family is magical adjacent. Our business intersects with the magical community. It’s sort of a quid pro quo.”
“Unless you’re implying that I owe you for saving me from choking on a grape, there’s no quo I could possibly want from you or your organization. I’m sorry, Mr. Smok, but I’m not interested.”
Lucien met her gaze with a reproachful look. “Mr. Smok? Really?”
“Pretty much.” Theia caught Rhea’s eye across the room and moved away from the bar, but Lucien stepped in front of her once more.
“Talk to Rafe. Before you write me off completely, ask him about the mutually beneficial relationship the Smok family has had with the Diamantes for ages.” He took a card from his shirt pocket, crimson with black lettering, and handed it to her.
Theia thought about refusing it, but that would just prolong the “dance.” She snatched it out of his hand and walked swiftly away before he could say anything else, meeting Rhea halfway as she came to her twin’s rescue.
“I saw your signal.” Rhea glanced at Lucien still standing by the bar. He raised a glass of champagne toward them. “I wasn’t sure you really wanted rescuing, though. He looks tasty.”
“He’s a creep, and I’m not interested. I’m more concerned about Carter’s little magic show.”
Rhea glowered. “Yeah, what was that? How the hell did Malibu Ken get out of prison?”
“I’m guessing one of his dirty friends in high places fixed it for him.”
Lucien’s words about quid pro quo and his family’s relationship with the magical community came back to her. Both Rafe and Dev had spoken of connections that helped keep Covent business—and other supernatural events—from the public eye. Could that be the connection with the Smok family? Maybe she should talk to Rafe after all. Not because she had any intention of getting involved in Lucien’s project, but because she and her sisters had a right to know who else knew about their business.
It wasn’t until she was helping clean up after the reception ended that Theia found her opening. Phoebe and Rafe were about to leave for the Yucatán, and she wouldn’t have another opportunity.
Theia stacked the folding chairs as Rafe collected them, his thick, dark waves tied back in a high, bobbed tail. “What do you know about Lucien Smok?”
Rafe paused in picking up a chair. “Was he bothering you? I saw him talking to you, but I figured you could handle him. I’d keep him at arm’s length if I were you.”
It wasn’t quite the answer she’d expected. “So your family doesn’t have some kind of simpatico relationship with the Smoks?”
Rafe’s look was guarded. “I wouldn’t call it simpatico, exactly, but there is a relationship. It goes back centuries. To the time of the founding of the Covent, in fact.” The Diamantes had been founding members.
“You mean they’re a Covent family?”
“No, not exactly.” He handed her the folded chair. “There were no witches among the Smok family—that I know of. But I read a lot of Covent history in my father’s records after his death. Information that isn’t generally known.”
It was unlike Rafe to be so cagey.
“What kind of information?”
Rhea’s laugh rang out from the stairs as she came down with Phoebe after helping her change. Rafe set another chair on the stack and smiled at the sight of Phoebe in her usual bouncy ponytail, bangs across her forehead instead of swept back as they had been under the mantilla. “My father kept several vo
lumes on Covent history and politics,” he murmured, still smiling at Phoebe. “Ione has the keys to his house. Tell her I left some books for you in the library.”
* * *
After seeing Phoebe and Rafe off with much ribbing and a fair amount of sisterly tears, Theia and Rhea flopped together onto the bench by the door, and Rhea kicked off her heels with a groan.
Theia removed hers more sedately. “Where’s Leo?”
“I told him to go ride with the Hunt for a while and work off some of his buzz. It’s weird. Alcohol doesn’t usually affect him this much. He’s got a pretty high tolerance.”
“I thought the Wild Hunt only appeared between Halloween and Yule.”
“It does, normally. But now that he’s mortal, he’s not bound by the Norns’ rules and he can conjure the riders when he likes. There’s always some sicko out there that needs a one-way ticket to Náströnd.”
Theia poked at her décolletage. “It seems a little like playing God. How does he determine that someone is deserving of having their soul ripped out and escorted to hell?”
Rhea shrugged. “It’s a scent or something. I don’t ask too many questions. He gets all Gunnar the tenth-century Viking on me sometimes, like his soul is taking the reins even though he’s no longer under the curse, and Gunnar can be a little...pompous.”
“But you’ve ridden with him.”
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t feel weird about it? About taking somebody out of the earthly plane?”
“And having one less pedophile or rapist walking the earth? Not so much.”
Theia had to admit she didn’t exactly hate the idea. As long as their guilt was certain.
When Ione and Dev came back from closing up the temple, Theia could see the tension on Ione’s face. Carter had really gotten to her. She couldn’t blame her. Carter Hamilton was like a nasty rash that just kept coming back. It hurt to see his manipulative bullshit affecting Ione like this.
As Ione picked up one of the plastic bins of supplies, Theia hopped up from the bench and grabbed another. “Do you need any help getting things back to the house?”
“No, I think we’re good. Dev’s already loaded up the car with the rest.”
Theia followed her out with her bin. “By the way, Rafe mentioned something about getting the key to his dad’s place from you. He wanted me to take a quick look in on it while I’m watching Phoebe’s.”
“His dad’s place?” Ione set the bin on top of the others and loaded Theia’s next to it. “I thought he was selling that.”
“I assume he still is, but I guess nobody’s been by regularly except the gardener, and he wanted me to take a look around.”
Ione could always tell when one of them was bullshitting her, and the fact that she didn’t push back on the request spoke volumes about her mental state.
She took a set of keys from her purse and handed them to Theia. “Just make sure you get them back to me.”
As Ione got into the car, Dev took Theia aside. “She didn’t want me to tell you this, but our unwanted guest pretty much ruined her plans for the reception.” Dev glanced at Rhea leaning into the car to block Ione’s view. “It was supposed to be ours as well.”
Theia stared at him, confused. “Your what?”
“Reception. Don’t react. She might snap if she realizes I’m telling you. But we drove up to Vegas a few weeks ago and tied the knot.” He allowed himself a little grin while Theia suppressed the urge to squeal and jump up and down.
“You complete bastard. I can’t believe you’re telling me this now when I can’t do anything.”
“I suggested to Tweedledum that you and she could plan a little celebration for Ione later when she’s cooled down.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t say Tweedledee. Because Rhe is definitely Dum.” Theia grinned but kept it subtle. “And you can count on us.”
Rhea joined Theia as Dev and Ione drove away, waving like Stepford wives only to start jumping and squealing in unison the second the car was out of visual range.
“Can you believe the ovaries on that one?” Rhea laughed as they spun around. “Eloping and stealing Phoebe’s thunder? Phoebe’s going to be furious.”
“I don’t know how she kept it to herself all this time.” Although Ione was certainly better equipped to keep a secret than the rest of them. Theia glanced at Rhea as the dance died down. “You’d better not tell me you and Leo are up to something similar.”
“Me?” Rhea laughed. “Right. Like I’d get married.” She winked, which wasn’t reassuring. Everyone in the family was pairing off, and Theia was the odd one out. Rhea, as usual, could see what she was thinking. “Why don’t you just let me read you again?”
“No. There’s no reason to rehash what I already know.”
“Which is what? That your love life is cursed? I think you’re being way too literal about it. Just let me ask a more specific question.”
The night was getting chilly now that the sun was down. Theia pulled the shawl she’d borrowed from Ione around her shoulders, tucking her tattooed arm underneath it. “I’m good, thanks. So, takeout?”
Rhea sighed through her nose, her mouth in a thin line of annoyance, but shrugged her acquiescence. “Indian?”
Theia gave it a thumbs-up. “You order. I’ll drive.” She held out her hand for the keys.
“You’re not driving Minnie Driver.”
“Your car is not a person, and yes, I am. I saw how much champagne you had.”
Rhea tossed her the keys and got in on the passenger side, patting the dash. “Don’t listen to her, Minnie. You are too a person.” She pulled up the delivery app on her phone and started making selections. “Whose house are we going to? Phoebe’s or Rafe’s?”
“Neither, actually.” Theia ground the gears, and Rhea swore, gripping the seat. Theia ignored her, putting the car in gear properly. “Do you still have the address for Rafael Sr.’s place in your phone?”
Rhea glanced over at her. “The Ice Palace? Yeah, why?”
“There’s something I need to pick up. We can pretend we’re filthy rich, like Phoebe.” She grinned without looking over.
“Ha. Phoebe, married to the richest man in town, and still keeping her little bungalow.”
“I think she’s still freaked out about those reporters outside Rafe’s window filming him going spelunking in her cave that time.”
“He is quite the cave diver. Oh, dammit.”
“What?”
“We totally missed the opportunity for cave-diving puns. They’re visiting cenotes on their honeymoon.”
“Ah, damn. We’re off our game.”
Driving the labyrinthine route from Covent Temple back to the highway was much easier than driving in. A proximity glamour kept passersby from noticing the otherwise startling white byzantine spires against the sienna red hoodoos and hills of Sedona, and the disorientation spell on the road was an extra measure to confound those who might be purposefully looking for it.
Rhea’s red and white Mini was a blast to drive up Highway 179 through the walls of rocks and around the curves threading through the pines on the way to the secluded community hidden in the hills. Theia drove an automatic hybrid, which didn’t quite have the same kick.
“So what did you want to pick up, anyway?”
“Some papers Rafe’s dad kept. He said there’s some stuff about the original Covent and Madeleine Marchant I might want for my genealogy research.” There was no point in giving Rhea ammo to tease her by letting know she was researching Lucien Smok.
“Don’t we know all we need to about her?”
“Nothing is ever all you need to know about anything.”
Rhea rolled her eyes. “Right. I forgot I was talking to Brainiac’s daughter.”
“So you’re not at all curious about the origins of our Lilith bl
ood.”
“I just think you can overanalyze things. A little mystery in life is nice.”
Mystery was exactly what Theia didn’t want. She liked to know the whys and wherefores of things. Knowledge was power. And mystery... As far as Theia was concerned, mystery was danger.
Chapter 3
Lucien watched the revenant from the rooftop. Starlight lent a pale, unearthly glow to the proceedings as it swallowed up the dusk, leaving the red landscape sepia toned and casting flat, colorless shadows. The demon wore cowboy boots and a leather duster with a gambler-style cowboy hat, his horse tacked up in the Western style, but this was a Hunt wraith, an undead revenant of the Viking era who roamed the earth in search of dark souls. Less substantial wraiths rode beside him, their mounts, like themselves, phantoms. No one would notice them, even staring at them head-on. No one but a black-souled phantom like himself.
But the leader was different. He was no phantom but flesh and bone, unnaturally maintained, living tissue that ought to have perished centuries ago. And Lucien had seen him before. Just hours before—at the wedding of Rafael Diamante to Phoebe Carlisle.
Lucien followed the horse’s trajectory, tracking the revenant with the scope on his crossbow. He’d slipped a little something into the Viking’s drink to see if he could trigger him. The most it had done was to get him arguing with Dev Gideon, the eldest Carlisle sister’s faithful companion. Rumor had it Dev was a shape-shifter, part man, part demon himself. The entire Carlisle family seemed to be magnets for unnatural beings. Not surprising, given their bloodline.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d decided to check out the Carlisle sisters for himself, but Theia’s large, passionate eyes challenging him with far more moxie than her slight frame warranted was certainly not it. He hadn’t expected someone witty and intelligent who took no shit. She hadn’t fallen for his player persona. And she hadn’t been impressed by his name—if anything, there’d been a little sneer on her face when she’d heard it—or acted impressed by his family’s money. But maybe it was a different kind of power that impressed the Carlisle women. The kind that was infernal in origin. If only she knew.