The longer we glared at each other, the more emboldened she became. After a long moment, I’d finally had enough and returned my attention to the notepad in front of me, turning to a blank page.
“Go through the book and read off all the spells with spirit shade in it,” I instructed. A short time later, I counted twenty-eight spells out of three hundred, a considerable amount considering we’d only found three spells that dealt with were-animals. Frustratingly, reading the spirit shade spells together provided no insight into the purpose of the spells.
Sky eased back in her chair. “Twenty-eight spells. There have to be more spirit shade hosts than just me out there.”
Scrutinizing her, I wondered what was behind her obvious excitement that left her fidgeting in her chair. Her attention remained fixed on me, as if waiting for something she preferred not to voice. The longer I stared at her, waiting, the more she squirmed, but remained silent.
Eventually, I laid my arms on the table and leaned toward her. “And?”
“Don’t you wonder if there are, and their purpose? For years Maya remained dormant, and all of a sudden she is making a grand appearance. I can hold magic, manipulate it into dark magic, feed vampires and—” She stopped abruptly.
“And what?” I asked.
“And I feel like something is off,” she said, diverting from her original thought. I knew it by the short, sharp intake of breath she took before speaking, by the sudden shift in her gaze before her eyes once again met mine.
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back into my chair, scrutinizing her. “I guess you are more dangerous than we even speculated.”
“Just different. There are twenty-eight spells for spirit shades,” she repeated, stabbing a finger onto the table in emphasis. “We are nearly a third of the way through the translations and there are only three regarding were-animals. Are the were-animals so innocuous that so few spells are needed for us, or are the spirit shades so complex that more than three spells are needed to subdue them?”
It was an astute question. “There isn’t any way we can find out if there are any more spirit shades. Maya is hundreds of years old and just now coming to light. It would be difficult to find another one, especially if they are hosted.”
“Well, it would be limited to a smaller number than the masses. They can only exist where magic does, so the host will either be a mage, witch, were-animal, elf, or fae. That definitely brings down the numbers.”
“Not enough; there are millions of us.”
“Then we follow the origin and talk to Tre’ases.”
Only the trickster demons could create a spirit shade. “That is an idea,” I admitted. A good one. “The problem is we only know of one; she is dead and so is her son. We have no way of finding out if other Tre’ases exist.”
Sky rose, taking in the entire library with an exasperated look, as if the answers to all our questions were just a book away, if only we could find the right one. I knew the feeling.
I said, “I am more concerned with the link between you and others that can read the Clostra.”
She walked along the shelves, tracing them with a finger that occasionally tapped a spine as she paused to examine it. “We need to determine if it is just my family lineage, being a Moura, or hosting a spirit shade that allows me to read the Clostra. If it’s because I host Maya, then that can be a start. I suspect it has something to do with my family since Senna can read them, too.” She drew a book from its place and flipped through the pages, frowning.
Sebastian spoke from the doorway, surprising us. “It’s not your family. Senna isn’t a blood relative. Her hair isn’t naturally dark like the others in your family; I could smell the chemicals in her hair. When she speaks, her Portuguese isn’t fluent. She stops too often to think about her words before she responds, which means she learned it at a later age. The small cleft in her chin is another sign. There was a picture on the fireplace mantel of her and a woman who claims to be her mother, along with a man, who I assume is the alleged father. A cleft chin is a dominant trait; one of them should have one—they don’t. They are not her parents.”
Sky’s expression darkened as she snapped her book closed. “If they raised her, then they are her parents.”
Sebastian brushed her criticism aside. “Semantics. The issue still remains; she isn’t related to you. Her ability to read the Clostra isn’t linked to your lineage. Your family are low-level witches, but since she is the only one able to read it, I assume it isn’t linked to that, either.” He pulled out a chair next to me and sat. “There has to be a link between you and Senna since you two can read them.”
His gaze turned to me, a heavy scrutinizing look. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully, a show of respect rather than fear. “Chris knew a lot about Gloria,” he suggested.
I nodded, wary of his intention.
“She knew about her son, as well?”
Another slight nod.
“She seems to be privy to information that we aren’t. Sometimes ahead of us by steps.”
He wants me to use her. My expression tightened, but I withheld the bulk of my disdain. The Chris I’d known was gone. Michaela had brutalized her and left her for dead, just to spark a war between Demetrius and the pack. Against my wishes—against Chris’s—Kelly had allowed him to turn her into a vampire. That had been three months ago. I didn’t know what I’d find, or if she was going to be willing to cooperate. If she was, it was going to cost us. Plenty.
“She is good at what she does,” I stiffly admitted. “Or rather, what she did.”
“We should see what she knows.”
Reaching out to her was the last thing I wanted to do. “Of course.” I couldn’t deny Sebastian, but there were a couple of sources I would try first. With any luck, visiting Chris wouldn’t be necessary.
“I’ll go with you,” Sky said.
I gave her a raw look, but didn’t bother to object. Did she have some insight to the questions we needed to ask Chris, or did she just want to watch a train wreck up close? The two were hardly fans of each other. When we’d first found Sky, almost two years ago, Chris had contracted with the vamps to kidnap Sky for them—just another day at the office for Chris, but Sky had plenty of reasons to dislike her.
From the passenger seat of my BMW, she appeared confused as I drove into the city, glancing over both of her shoulders to identify the locale. “This isn’t the way to Chris’s house.”
“It is not,” I stated.
She gave me a sideways look. “You lied to Sebastian?”
I turned into an affluent neighborhood that was popular with young professionals who had money to burn. “Chris is not the only hunter in town. I’d prefer to exhaust the possibilities before relying on a vampire.”
After a moment, I parked on the street behind a gaudy, camouflage-painted Ram Macho Power Wagon. Sky scowled at the vehicle, then eyed the cluster of luxury townhouses that surrounded an opulent fountain in a small courtyard.
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere else,” I answered, then turned off the ignition and opened the driver’s side door.
Still skeptical, she followed me through the courtyard. If I’d forgotten which townhouse belonged to Sean, the loud techno-pop music vibrating the front windows of the farthest condo was a strong reminder. Walking up the porch, I knocked loudly on the door, then waited. After a moment, I knocked again. The volume of music quickly faded until it was just audible. A barely discernible shadow passed over the peephole. A moment later, I heard heavy, excited breathing on the other side of the door.
Sighing, I knocked once more.
“Who lives here?” Sky asked.
The door snapped open, revealing a wary young man wearing combat fatigues and a pistol holstered at his right hip. A knife was sheathed at the right side of his waist, the pommel tilted for a left-handed draw. His lips spread into a condescending smile as he glanced between the two of us. “Oh, baby girl and big boy,” he said, slowly
shaking his head, “you can’t afford me. Ann does the discount work. You should call her. Bye bye.”
I blocked the door with my foot.
He blinked rapidly at me, his smile frozen on his lips. “Are you here for trouble, big man?” he asked, incredulous. His hands lowered to his hips, conveniently close to his weapons, as he stared up at me.
I towered over him by at least a foot.
“You don’t remember me,” I said dryly, not entirely surprised. After Chris’s demise, he’d stepped out of the shadows, announcing himself as the go-to hunter in Chicago. Before then, he hadn’t even been on the radar. As a test, I’d given him a fictional target to locate, then had Artemis leave two trails of clues for him to follow; the longest route to the target was the easiest, while the shorter required more skill and experience. Chris would’ve solved the latter within days. After three weeks, Sean had stalled after barely making headway on the former. Instead of admitting his failure, he’d submitted a lengthy receipt for expenses and doubled his fees to continue. I’d fired him on the spot.
“Have we?” Sean asked dryly. “I meet so many people.”
Sky gaped at his ignorance. “Ethan Charleston?” When Sean’s eyes narrowed into thoughtful slits, she added, “Beta of the Midwest Pack?”
Recognition dawned in his expression as he snapped his fingers. “You’re the wolf guy. Right. Maybe you can afford me—if I’m available, that is.”
This is a waste of time. Regrettably, he remained my best chance to avoid a meeting with Chris. “We need information,” I said gruffly, my unblinking gaze fixed on his.
“Yeah? Okay,” he said, stroking his boyish wisp of a beard. “I’m best at racking up kill counts, but information is good. That can take a lot of forms: stolen disks, secreted papers, exhaustive reports. My going rate is one hundred bucks a noun. You think you can handle that?”
Mortified, Sky looked him up and down, then turned to me while hooking a thumb in his direction. “Is he for real?” She turned back to Sean. “Do you even know what a noun is?”
The boyish humor quickly faded. “It’s a four-noun minimum,” he stated, “payable in advance.”
Before Sky could retort, I said, “I need the names and locations of any Tre’ases in the area, other than Gloria and her child.”
“Who’s Gloria?”
Sky shook her head at him.
“Whatever.” He bristled. “I take cash, cash, or cash.” He expectantly held out his hand. “But if you’re in a real pickle, I’ll take cash instead.”
As I drew out my wallet, I noticed the way he wet his lips in greedy anticipation. Sky scowled until she saw that I drew out a business card and returned the wallet to my pocket. Sean blinked at the card as I placed it in his palm. He turned it over, frowning.
“Prove you’re worth something,” I stated, “and then we’ll talk price.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “Okay. I’ll give you two pieces of information for free. After that, you pay.” After an annoyingly long stare down that was over-timed for effect, he said, “The routing and account numbers for my bank account. You’ll need them to make that deposit by EFT.”
I made a disgusted sound as Sky gestured to him, asking with a voice thick with disbelief, “You’re a Hunter?”
He stared down his nose at her. “The best there is.”
“I’m not the biggest fan of Chris,” she told me, “but she’s got miles on this guy.”
“She’s also dead,” he snapped, “so there’s that. Right now I’m the only show in town, honey. I mean, there’s Ann, but she couldn’t track two halves of an Oreo to a dab of frosting.” He bit his lower lip while giving her what was surely meant to be a meaningful look, earning only a mocking chuckle in reply.
“I’m done here,” she informed me, then turned and walked off the porch. I followed her, an amused smile on my lips. I didn’t need to look over my shoulder to know that Sean watched us all the way to my BMW.
“Is this Ann going to be any better?” she asked from the passenger seat.
“No.” I considered for a moment, searching aimlessly for any reason to delay the inevitable.
“We should just go to Chris and get it over with,” Sky said, giving me a meaningful look.
I sighed and started the engine.
CHAPTER 9
By the time I stepped onto Chris’s porch, I already knew she was standing behind the door, making up her mind whether she would open it. The sweet redolence of her floral perfume wafted through the seams of the doorway. There was no heartbeat on the other side, not even the faintest hint of breath, proving a stark reminder: She’s dead. I tried to protect her, but she belongs to Demetrius now.
Swallowing my regret, I reached up and knocked on the door.
After a long wait, I felt relief lighten the tension in my neck as it seemed she was going to deny us an audience. Just as I turned from the door, it creaked open to reveal Chris. At first glance, she appeared as I remembered her, wearing her typical tight black tank top and jeans. A closer inspection revealed her toasted almond skin, once glowing, was now tainted by a deathly hue.
She stood back inside the doorway, just far enough to avoid the sunlight that reached over the threshold. She studied me with a harsh indifference before stepping aside for us to enter.
Crossing the threshold, I caught the earthy scent of Demetrius, the Master of the Northern Seethe. I tensed immediately, my wolf rushing to just beneath my skin in anticipation of violence. From his seat on the couch, he stared back at me with a dark, malignant gaze. It was our first encounter with each other since he’d stolen Chris from the retreat’s medical clinic, right from under my nose.
As we glowered at each other, each tensed for violence, I weighed the ramifications of killing him outright. He’d disobeyed me. In my home.
Chris glided toward him, scrutinizing me from over her shoulder. “What do you want?”
He rose to take a protective stance at her side. I noted the aggressiveness of his posture, his right foot slightly forward and his weight shifted onto his toes. He wants to kill me. I smirked at the thought. He appeared about to try when Chris stepped between us to address him.
“I need you to leave,” she requested.
I chaffed at the softness of her tone, the implied subservience. She’s a vampire, I reminded myself yet again. He was her maker and she owed him such subservience—which was what he’d wanted, and what she hadn’t.
Demetrius balked at the request, his lifeless black eyes fixating with a predator’s intention on mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“This is business,” she said soothingly, then turned to me for confirmation. “Right?”
After a brief struggle, I unclenched my jaw enough to speak, but didn’t bother to mask the disgust in my tone. “Yes. I need to ask you something.”
“It will be quick,” she promised him.
His chin rose defiantly. “Then you will not mind if I stay.”
“He will not speak to me in front of you,” she said carefully, irritation creeping into her voice.
“Then he should leave.”
I faced him squarely, fists clenched at my side. Make me.
“Please,” she said. “It is not his request, it is mine.”
The Master of the Northern Seethe seemed stymied by the request. Beneath her obvious subservience, Chris retained a semblance of her willful independence. He wasn’t used to his spawn pushing him away.
She’s not entirely gone, then, I thought, surprised.
After a moment, he reluctantly acquiesced. “I will be back in half an hour. It will be best if he is not here when I return.”
She offered her cheek to him as he leaned down to kiss her. In a grotesque demonstration of control, he lingered there, watching me with a belligerent stare. His lips brushed against her neck as his hand swept over her shoulder, tracing a delicate line down her spine to linger in the hollow of her lower back. A growl nearly escaped my lips, but I wouldn’t g
ive him the satisfaction. They could play their games for all I cared, but this was a show for my benefit. I’d accepted that she was gone, but to watch him flaunt his control over her galled me.
She acquiesced to his control, leaning into him as he kissed her forehead. The hint of a deadly smile brushed his lips before he vanished. She turned to me with her hands on her hips, her head slightly tilted. “What do you want, Ethan?” she demanded, impatient.
Her eyes, once brown, were as black and lifeless as Demetrius’s. The absence of a terait meant she didn’t have a problem transitioning to drinking blood for sustenance. I wondered, did she torture her food as well, like Michaela? Did Chris hunt the innocent strictly for food, or for sport?
She’s dangerous, I reminded myself. More now than ever. If the situation became violent, I needed to anticipate her newfound speed and agility. It wouldn’t pay to underestimate her.
Glancing around the large, open living room, I noted that not much about the room had changed since my last visit. Despite Chris’s newfound abilities, there was still a pistol in the desk, I was sure; another one or two under the cushions of the couch; more in the ottoman, with knives attached underneath; melee weapons and at least one shotgun in the closet. It was safe to assume the four drawers of the V-shaped television stand contained a number of threats as well, and I noted the hilt of a sword largely concealed among the umbrellas in the umbrella stand. As a human, she’d always relied on weapons out of necessity, but she was just as dangerous now without them.
“How many Tre’ases do you know of?” I asked.
“Hmm.” Her lips twisted into a sly smile. “I am sure I am not your first stop. Who did you go to first, Ann or Sean?”
“Sean,” I admitted.
“Did he know anything? Or did he just flounce around like a self-entitled twit, demanding payment upfront for information he didn’t likely have? He’s a piece of work, isn’t he? A true shyster. He considers himself to be my replacement since rumors have it that I’m dead.” She scoffed.
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