by Hettie Ivers
“Second that,” Kai deadpanned without hesitation.
I nodded absently again as I watched the spectacle of thunder and lightning, an unsettling feeling gnawing my gut. Remy was right. I wasn’t sure my brother Alex would be able to best his wife Milena—our pack’s most treasured, well-prophesied, perpetually sweet and adorable vessel—anymore either.
That knowledge shouldn’t have bothered me. Except it meant that Milena’s power and abilities had surpassed all of ours at this point.
And somehow I’d managed to ignore this growing development despite Alex’s incessant bragging and the regular reports on Milena’s progress from both Remy and Jussara.
“Wait till you see her manifest a twister,” Remy said before moving closer to the action, going to stand next to Jussara.
Too close to Jussara.
My frown deepened when Jussara turned and smiled up at Remy.
What. The hell?
Jussara was the closest thing I had to a daughter. Remy knew that she was off-limits. He wouldn’t cross that line. Would he? What’s more, Jussara had always hated Remy. What the fuck had changed between them while I’d been away?
“I believe Alex intends to work her up to a tsunami next,” Kai’s amused voice spoke in my ear, drawing my attention back to Milena’s grand display. When I didn’t react, Kai pressed, “She’s incredible, right? You thought I was exaggerating.”
I forced myself to smile. “Tsunami, huh? So we’re turning our cherished vessel and savior into a WMD? That the plan? Or are we planning to use her to reverse global warming? I’m sure that our ancestors would be proud.” My words came out infused with more bitterness than the teasing tone I’d aimed for.
Kai didn’t miss a beat. “You make a face that reminds me of Antonio when you get jealous.”
I snorted and clapped him on the back, struggling to shake off the foul mood encroaching. “Well, that’s good to hear. Dad was a handsome SOB.”
Who was Kai kidding? He checked in with Milena near constantly. He raved about her accomplishments nonstop. He was her biggest fan and supporter. If anyone was jealous of Alex’s relationship with Milena, it was Kai. I was pretty sure Alex was getting in the way of Kai’s girl-time bonding with Milena.
“Hey, who wouldn’t be jealous of Alex and want to be the one in his shoes right now, eh?” I acknowledged good-naturedly, gesturing to the happy, power-hoarding couple practicing their natural disaster-making skills.
It was close enough to the truth. My baby brother Alex had always seemed to reap more than his fair share of luck in life. Even before Milena had become a supernatural powerhouse to be reckoned with, she had been covet-worthy as a mate. More than easy on the eyes, Milena was also a consummate sweetheart and do-gooder. A quiet, effective leader who led without trying to lead. She’d done more to unite our pack in the past decade than my brothers or I had managed in our lifetimes.
“I wasn’t referring to Alex.”
The full implication of Kai’s words sank in as I watched his retreating form jog over to a grinning Milena.
“Did you see that?” she exclaimed.
“Sure did. You were magnificent!” Kai praised.
“She still can’t teleport,” my sister Alessandra’s voice drawled from behind me, unabashedly rife with the envy Kai had just accused me of harboring.
My chest exploded with laughter at my sister’s most welcome presence in that moment and her characteristically critical assessment of our sister-in-law.
It was true. Despite her tremendous power and skills, Milena couldn’t teleport. And Alessandra had clearly done just that—expertly, too—because I hadn’t heard a sound or felt so much as a ripple of magic at her entry.
“Lessa!” I spun around and engulfed her in a hug, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around. “Just the old bitch I was hoping I’d see today.”
“I am not old.”
Eleven years my junior, Lessa was my only full-blooded sibling, and the only contemporary of my generation besides Kai within our pack. She hated being reminded of her age. The bitch designation, however, was one she relished.
“Put me down, you big cur,” she protested. “You’re going to get me all mussed.”
I knew she was teasing, but I set her down just the same, rounding on her in a hushed voice the moment that I did. “I’ll muss you all I want. What the hell has been going on around here, anyway? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“What? Why of all—I did! We all did. You’ve been dick deep in American pussy so long your brain is fried.”
“Did Kai say that? Who told you that? And I prefer the term balls deep.”
She punched me hard in the chest.
“Ouch.” Lessa had never in her life hit like a girl. Not even when she’d been a little girl.
“More like who didn’t tell me that.”
“Eh, whatever.” Fucking pack rumors. “How’s she doing it? How’s Milena controlling weather elements?”
“First of all, it’s they, not she.” Lessa jutted her chin in Alex and Milena’s direction. “Alex likes to give Milena all the credit, but I know he’s helping her. Controlling the end result. Alex has always been the master of physical elements, as you and I well know.”
Huh. She was probably right. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse about this unique power development. “Okay, so how are they doing it?”
“Not here. Let’s walk and talk.” Lessa latched onto my elbow and turned us away from the group.
I hesitated. “I should probably say something to Milena first—”
“There’s no time,” Lessa insisted, and in a blink she’d teleported us and was dragging me along the deserted cobblestone quay along the Seine.
“This is over the top, Lessa. Even for you. And kinda cliché, don’t you think? Paris? Really? What is it—midnight here, too?”
“Shut up and walk.”
“Fine. But start talking so we can get back before Milena notices I bailed. I don’t want to hurt her feelings that I left without even saying anything about her grand thunderstorm show.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Milena and her fucking feelings! I swear that’s all anyone in this pack cares about anymore. Is it any wonder it’s come to this?”
“I am one hundred percent lost,” I admitted, turning around and jogging backward on the path so that I could face my sister while staying ahead of her brisk walking pace.
“She’s an endless font of emotion, and Alex is her magnifying conduit. That’s how they do it.” She threw her hands in the air as if she was stating something that should be obvious to any idiot.
But not this idiot. “Still not following, sis.”
“Milena’s always been a virtual bottomless spigot of emotions, right? I mean, the girl cries more than any living creature I’ve ever met.” Her hazel eyes caught the moonlight as they rolled. “And Alex … we know Alex inherited his mother Renata’s empathic abilities, and yet he never even realized he had those powers because he only found his emotional awareness after the living spigot came into his life.”
Wow. “So you’re totally having a hard time with Milena being Alpha, huh?”
“Turn!” she ordered at a shout, her long brown hair flying behind her with the force at which she pivoted. Her heeled feet clicked noisily against the stone as she stomped a path away from the water.
I followed behind her, noticing for the first time the prim blouse and calf-length skirt she was wearing once I was staring after her back.
“Hey, why’re you dressed like a schoolteacher?”
She threw the middle finger over her right shoulder and kept stomping.
“All right, look, I’m sorry I stayed away so long. It wasn’t you I was avoiding.”
She groaned and threw up another finger at me.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I jogged after her to keep up with her long, angry strides. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. I’ve missed you. I said I was sorry. I just needed some t
ime away from—”
She stopped abruptly and spun around to face me, her eyes flashing amber beneath her raised brow. “Do you think I’m Alex? You think I don’t know why you had to stay away? You think I don’t understand? Or that maybe I need Milena to fucking explain it to me?”
It was the wrong time to bust up laughing, but I couldn’t help it. Lessa never made fun of our baby half-brother like this. She had always praised and doted on Alex to a fault, much to my annoyance, as well as our stepbrother Remy’s, who had also shared in the burden of raising Alex. Lessa had consistently defended Alex, always taken his side in every disagreement—even all five times that he’d burned my house to the ground as a kid. Milena’s presence had obviously put a strain on their relationship.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized again, choking up with laughter. The stress of my day had caught up with me. “It’s not you. I swear.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
It felt damn good to be in my sister’s presence. Arguably the pack’s best fighter, Lessa could terrify the bravest of men. Smart as a whip, she could rattle the most confident. She was also vain and selfish and sometimes embarrassingly shallow. And there was no one on earth I’d known and loved longer than my little sister.
I realized where she’d taken us. In a few more steps we’d be standing next to the stone archway that read: “Cimetière des Chiens.”
Lessa hadn’t brought me here to talk about Alex or Milena.
“You wanted to talk to me about the Rogue in private?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve found the Rogue.”
I swallowed, curiosity replacing the mirth I’d basked in a moment ago. “I’m listening.”
Her fingers fiddled with the bow-tie neckline of her silk blouse. I still didn’t understand why she was dressed like a schoolteacher.
“There are … complications. I need your help.”
“Why don’t you want Alex or the others to know?”
She squared her shoulders. “The Rogue was always our quarry, Al.” Her hazel eyes, so similar to mine, dared me to disagree. “You and me. Dad said it was our mission.”
I nodded. I decided not to point out that she’d gotten bored with that mission eons ago and hadn’t done much to help me with it since Dad’s passing. She was clearly on a competitive streak with Milena right now.
“Okay. I’ll help you, Lessa.”
“And you’ll keep this between us? You won’t even tell Kai?”
“Yes.” As the word left my mouth, I knew I’d probably live to regret it. But I might’ve been a little competitive myself. And it was kinda fun feeling like Lessa was on my side again after so many years of her going against me for Alex’s sake.
She smiled. “We’re going to need to break a few pack laws.”
Avery
“It’s too many prophecies and curses,” I complained, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I can’t keep track, Wyatt. I need a chart … maybe a Venn diagram.”
Among the first things I’d learned upon joining the underground world of supernatural beings was that werewolves clung to their lore and way of life with four paws. They took occultism seriously, and they were superstitious as hell. So much so that any gobbledygook out of the mouths of supposed seers, oracles, prophets, clairvoyants, necromancers, and the like was upheld as gospel. What’s more, drastic actions were often taken based on outdated prophecies and rampant paranoia over alleged future events.
“Oh, come on, it’s not as bad as that,” Wyatt said as he typed something into the notes on his iPad. “You’re just tired. When was the last time you slept?”
“When I was human.”
He gave me a sympathetic smile and glanced at his watch. “How far do you need to drive still tonight—erm, this morning—to reach Sloane?”
“Far enough. Let’s keep going.”
“Speaking of, you’ll find a set of keys in your backpack to an old black Audi A4 parked on level three of the structure on Blake Street. You know the one?”
“Sure do. RiNo’s my old hood—sorta.” I rubbed my temple. “You were saying something weird and obscure about the decade of no light,” I prompted helpfully.
He set his iPad down and removed his reading glasses. “Listen, Avery. Lately, I’ve been thinking, maybe I should know Sloane’s whereabouts? You know … in case anything ever happens to Azda while you’re away … and you need me to relocate Sloane to another safe house—”
“No. Uh-uh.”
“But she’s old and half-blind—”
“Wyatt, no. Azda’s fine. It’s too risky.”
He looked a little offended by how quickly I’d shut him down. But it couldn’t be helped. “Avery, I would never—”
“It’s not about that. I just think it’s safer for everyone this way. I know you’d never betray us.” Not intentionally. Or without excessive torture at least. My hunch was that silver-spoon-fed white guys didn’t hold up well under torture. “Let’s get back to that prophecy about the decade without light.”
He sighed. “Right. Almost ten years ago, and nearly overnight as the story goes, every important seer, clairvoyant, and necromancer across the globe mysteriously fell dead, thrusting the supernatural world into a state of figurative darkness.”
“Who killed them all?”
Wyatt shrugged. “No one knows. They just … croaked.” He gave me a half-grimace, half-grin, trying his best not to give in to the humor we invariably injected into these sessions. Because really, we had to laugh so we wouldn’t freak out.
“That’s preposterous. They all just dropped dead on the spot? At the same time?”
“Yep.” He bit his lip and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Allegedly so.”
“O-kay.” I reached for my cold coffee mug. “Let’s just suppose for argument’s sake that actually happened. I still don’t get why it would spawn so much excessive rogue hunting. What’s this great panic over killing every possible rogue left on the planet before the decade of no light’s end?”
Wyatt shook his head.
“You think maybe, absent the ‘perceived’ second sight they’d come to rely so heavily upon as a society, they just … I dunno … flipped their collective supernatural wig, so to speak? And they’ve been runnin’ around killing rogues to work off steam while awaiting further instruction from the silent ether ever since?”
“Mmmm … perhaps …” Wyatt’s lips curled and his eyes crinkled with humor. “It’s a good enough theory, anyhow, given the voodoo-loving set we’re dealing with.”
We knew the supernatural world had been hunting for a powerful Rogue-with-a-capital-R who was prophesied to usher forth the birth of a new breed of werewolf species that would be unbeholden to the pack mentality and way of life to which all werewolves presently adhered. But that was a centuries-old prophecy. It didn’t explain the more recent rogue-killing frenzy.
Slipping his glasses back on, Wyatt raised his iPad and resumed reading through his notes, his finger scrolling over the screen. “An oracle foretold something about a war sparked by the death of a guilty innocent caught between two rival packs.”
“The ongoing fighting between the Brazilian and the Portuguese super-werewolf packs Perry told us about, right?” I took a sip of cold coffee and pulled a face. “The stolen eye prophecy?”
He nodded, then read from the screen: “The stolen eye no number of wrong eyes would make right. The unforgivable sacrifice destined to unearth a wrath so black as to obliterate night. Ushering forth the war of the century, the rise of a blind warrior, and the dawn of a decade without light.”
“You think the original seer or oracle who came up with that one really made it a rhyme?”
“Doubtful.” Wyatt grinned. “That one’s from the seventeen hundreds, I believe. Most likely someone turned it into a dumb nursery rhyme after the fact and it’s lost something in translation as a result.”
“Fuck it all.” I pushed my coffee mug
aside. We were losing time and getting nowhere with deciphering the prophecy nonsense. As usual. “How ’bout I just keep torturing rogues for intel?”
Despite being a believer of positive genetic mutation, I’d tortured and killed a fair share of rogue werewolves over the years in my quest for information on my new species. I rationalized that every single one of them had been mad and headed for demise anyway—deranged and warped as they all inevitably became from lack of sufficient contact and communion with other wolves.
“Works for me,” Wyatt readily agreed.
“Great. Let’s move on to the South American super-werewolves.”
“This is Alex Reinoso.”
“Daaamn.” I rummaged blindly through my new backpack and tried to control my drool reflex as Wyatt flipped through photos of a gorgeous Brazilian god. “I feel a heat cycle coming on. Where are those pills?”
“Him?” Wyatt squinted at the photos. “Ugh, don’t tell me you go for that type?”
“You mean the perfectly hot type? The tall, dark, handsome Alpha type? Definitely. Please tell me that beautiful man’s not coming to kill me.”
“He’s coming to kill you.”
“So unfair. I hate killing the hot ones. Too dangerous to fuck first?”
“Yes. Too dangerous to attempt to kill as well. But he’s only part of the problem.” Wyatt flipped through more photos on the iPad before stopping on a series of shots of a waiflike young brunette with long, wavy hair, bright blue eyes, and delicate, angelic features. In the photos, she was getting out of a Bentley SUV, surrounded by big, beefy hotties on all sides—more super-werewolves, no doubt. “This is Alex Reinoso’s better half, Milena Caro-Reinoso.” Wyatt’s manicured forefinger tapped the screen. “She is enemy number one.”
“She’s the Alpha bitch?” I grabbed the electronic notepad from his hand. “This little girl here? The one who looks like she’s just come off of a peace and love bender at Burning Man?”
“She’d just come off of a rogue killing spree in Eastern Europe when this was taken, actually.” Wyatt gave me a pointed look devoid of humor. “Word is she calls the shots and runs the show these days within the Reinoso stronghold. And that the pack both respects and adores her as their fearless leader.” He scratched his chin. “She’s also referred to as the vessel. But I haven’t figured out yet what that means or which prophecies it relates to.”