Ashley shut her eyes, and Madison felt a trickle of weak energy brush over her, all that Ashley had left after using so much energy to create the meadow Illusion. Madison latched onto it desperately, praying she could feed it and twist it into something depraved and evil—
The warrior cracked his fist into the side of Ashley's head. She slumped against him, her head lolling to the side as she passed out.
The Illusionist energy fizzled out instantly.
"No!" Madison ran toward them as the Calydon grabbed the door of his SUV and hauled it open. "Let her go! I'm the one who's a threat to you, not her!"
He turned and hurled his knife at her. It whizzed through the air, sinking into her shoulder, driving Madison to her knees. Gasping, she clutched at her shoulder as he threw Ashley into his SUV, her limp body strewn across the passenger seat.
The Calydon leapt into the truck and held out his hand as he shifted into drive. The knife ripped out of Madison's shoulder and whizzed through the air back to his hand.
The truck lurched into gear, peeled around the crowd, and was gone.
With her sister.
Chapter Three
Two weeks later
* * *
"The cops think your sister is a murderer." Pete McFadden, the somewhat sketchy private detective Madison had hired to find Ashley, delivered the news.
Madison froze, her takeout coffee cup trembling halfway to her mouth, fear congealing in her stomach. "What?"
"Hey, you okay?" Pete's sandy brown eyes were sympathetic and warm. "Madison? You with me?"
She blinked, managing a slight nod as she fought off the tightness in her chest. Please, God, don't let Ashley have taken my path. "What—" She cleared her throat. "What are you talking about?"
Pete watched her carefully as he delivered his report, clearly worried about her reaction to his news. "Calydon warriors are getting killed and stripped of their weapons, and the cops believe your sister is doing it." He reached out and caught the coffee cup as it slipped out of her hand, moving aside a sheaf of papers before setting the cup on Madison's cluttered kitchen table.
Takeout pizza boxes littered her counter, empty bottles of water were overflowing from the recycle bin, and the floor was covered with a thin layer of grime. The plants in the windowsill were limp, their leaves turning brown, and three of the lightbulbs were burned out.
Her home, her sanctuary, was decaying around her, and she didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but finding her sister. She'd barely slept in two weeks, searching for Ashley constantly, following up every clue…and getting nowhere. "Why do they think my sister is responsible?" Her voice shook, and she knew Pete heard it by his soft sigh.
He lifted her chin so he could look at her. "When was the last time you ate or slept, Madison?"
She pushed his hand away. "I don't know. Why?"
"Because you look like hell."
She stiffened. "Just because I'm paying you a fortune to find my sister doesn't give you permission to act like my mother."
"No, but the fact that I care about you as a woman is all the permission I need."
She looked sharply at him, startled by the edge to his voice. His stare was so intense she shoved her chair back and held up her hand. "Don't even go there, Pete. I'm in no place for any kind of relationship." What the hell was wrong with him? How could he even think she would be able to focus on anything but finding her sister?
Pete leaned forward, crowding her. "I've been with you constantly for the last two weeks. I see who comes by here…or rather, who doesn't. You've got no one to help you. No one but me."
Madison stood up and walked across the kitchen, away from him. "All I need you for is to find my sister. Nothing else." What the hell was he doing talking about relationships when he'd just told her that her sister was being accused of killing Calydon warriors? "Why do the police think she's a murderer?"
Pete settled back in his chair, draping his arm over the back of the chair next to him, like he owned the space. Which he didn't. This was her house, and no matter how much she paid him to search for Ashley, that didn't change that fact. "Madison, for God's sake, you need someone to support you. I can be there for you—"
"No." She turned away and looked out the window at her neighborhood. At the lights on in the other houses, looking cozy and warm. Families. A familiar ache pulsed in her heart, and she turned away from what she could never have.
"Madison." His voice was so warm and kind that it annoyed her. "I’m here for you. You know you can count on me."
She laughed softly as she turned back to Pete. She folded her arms over her chest, leaned against the counter, and, for the first time really looked at Pete. He was decent looking, good with a gun, but she didn't want him. She didn't want any man. She just wanted her sister, and then she wanted to get away from this nightmare and never come back. Convince Ashley to go back to Vermont, maybe. Anyplace where she didn't have to be near people. Where she could simply pretend all of it had never happened. "Tell me what you've found out."
Pete sighed in visible capitulation and glanced at his laptop screen. "Six Calydons have been murdered in the last two weeks, including the one who was killed outside your yoga studio the night Ashley disappeared."
Madison closed her eyes at the confirmation that it had been a Calydon who had been murdered. The newspapers hadn't reported it. The police had been unwilling to divulge. Too many people didn't know or believe that the Otherworld existed. It took someone like Pete to cross those lines and learn the truths that too many wanted to pretend didn't exist.
So, one dead Calydon. And now five more? Anyone who knew Ashley was an Illusionist wouldn't hesitate to blame her...including the Order. She couldn't suppress her shudder. They'd be after her, too.
But no one knew Ashley was an Illusionist. So why would the police be so quick to decide it was Ashley who was killing them? It made no sense. Madison shoved her hands into her pockets to hide the trembling. "Continue, please."
"You sure?"
She nodded. "Just tell me."
Pete frowned, but he continued with his report. "Witnesses have placed a woman meeting Ashley's description at three of the murder scenes."
"So?" Madison couldn't keep the defensiveness out of her voice. "She's average height with long dark hair. Thousands of women in the Portland area fit that description."
He gave her an assessing look, and she braced herself for whatever else was coming, recognizing the expression in his eyes. He was about to pry for more information, trying to get details out of her that he didn't need for his investigation.
He did that too much, and it bothered her. Unfortunately, he was extremely good at what he did, and she wanted the best. Ashley was worth the best.
"Witnesses also reported seeing angels at every murder site." he said, his voice deceptively casual, his eyes sharply assessing her reaction.
Madison's throat constricted. "What?" Her voice came out a raw whisper. "What did you say?" Only Ashley would create Illusions so lovely people thought they were angels.
If there had been angels, if Ashley really had been at every murder, it did sound indeed like Ashley had been using her illusions…to kill? Had her kidnapper turned Ashley into a monster who would be forced to kill every single time she did an Illusion for the rest of her life? A beast who needed to kill in order to survive, like Madison's? Not her dear, sweet sister...
She blinked hard several times to keep the sudden tears at bay. She had to keep it together for Ashley. It was good news that people had spotted her at murder scenes, right? It meant she was still alive. "What kind of angels?"
"Two girls in a meadow, dancing and laughing, illuminated by a bright light, even though the murders all took place at night." Pete's gaze narrowed on Madison, probing questions in his eyes, and she fought to maintain her composure. "Witnesses reported being overwhelmed with a sense of peace and joy upon seeing the girls, to the extent that not one of them heard or saw the murders until after
the angels had disappeared. They believe the girls protected them, which is why the witnesses think they are angels."
Madison said nothing, struggling to keep her face blank. Ashley had been at the murders, doing Illusions. There was no doubt.
Pete gave her a shrewd look. "The police, however, believe they are dealing with an Illusionist, and they found two women who claim that when Ashley was in the foster system in Boston as a kid, she used to do peaceful Illusions for any of the kids who were too stressed out. The cops did the math, and it comes out as Ashley being the murderer. No one else can kill Calydons, except the Order, of course."
Madison's legs started to shake, and Pete was by her side, catching her before she hit the floor. She tensed, instinctively ready to bolt if an Illusion came in response to her sudden emotional hit from the news about Ashley...but there was nothing.
She sagged, realizing she was simply too exhausted and drained to generate any kind of an Illusion right now, but she knew it was still there. She could feel it gathering strength. She knew it would come out raging at some point, and without Ashley to help her control it...
She shook her head, refusing to think about it.
Pete slid his arm around her waist, and she went rigid, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar sensation of being touched, of someone invading her personal space. "I'm fine—"
"Humor me." He guided her back to the table, his grip gentle but firm as he eased her into a seat. He put one hand on the back of her chair and one palm flat on the table and leaned close. "You okay?"
She lifted a hand. "I need room, Pete. Please."
He grunted, but walked around to the other side of the table and sat back down. "The cops haven't released Ashley's identity to the public yet. They don't want to create a panic." He was watching her intently again, waiting to see how she responded to his news, no doubt testing to see if her sister really was an Illusionist. "They believe she's been using her Illusions as a decoy to distract her victims before murdering them."
"Oh, Ashley," she whispered, her hand going to her heart, unable to stop her reaction, even though she knew Pete was watching her, waiting for it. The police had to be wrong. They had to be. Ashley didn't have a dark side...or she hadn't. What if something had happened to her to finally turn her Illusions dark? What if Ashley had become like Madison?
"Why didn't you tell me she was an Illusionist?"
"She's not an—" She stopped at his raised eyebrows, realizing it was too late. Her denial should have come the first moment Pete had brought it up. Instead, she simply shook her head. "I can't talk about it—"
He leaned forward, his gaze too calculating. "Are you an Illusionist?"
Her heart stuttered, but she called on years of practice evading probing questions, and she managed to shake her head calmly. The only reason she hadn't been assassinated by the Order of the Blade yet was because no one knew the truth about her.
No one but her aunt Maisy who had whisked Madison away right after the murder, taking the sisters illicitly under her protection. Maisy had used brutal tactics to scare Madison to controlling her Illusions, and Madison knew that without Maisy, she would be long dead. Maisy had been tough as hell, but she'd saved Madison's life and given the sisters their only chance at survival, even if it had been a childhood of living on the run, with a mother-figure who believed in threats instead of love to keep them safe.
"Madison?"
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. "No. I'm not an Illusionist."
He narrowed his eyes. "I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth."
She bristled at his words. "Don't threaten me! This isn't about me, and I—"
"Sorry." Pete raised his hands in apology. "Calm down, okay? I'm just trying to help."
She nodded and ducked her head, trying to focus. Pete was right. He was on her team. He wasn't the cops, out to get her and Ashley...
The cops. They'd been questioning her repeatedly about Ashley, and she'd thought it was because they were trying to find a missing person, but in truth they'd been trying to find a murderer— Oh, no. She sat up suddenly. "They want to kill her, don't they?"
Pete nodded. "An Otherworld being using her powers to murder can be killed on sight."
Madison struggled to keep her voice calm. "But what if they don't know for sure that she's an Illusionist?"
He shrugged. "Protection of the greater good. Doesn't matter."
"Have they...released the information to anyone?"
Pete cocked his head. "You mean, do you need to worry about the Order of the Blade going after her?"
Madison nodded once, her throat too tight to talk.
"I don't think so. I had to pull a lot of favors to get the information. The cops really want to keep a lid on this and not create panic. Having the Order of the Blade running around town with a hit on a young woman with dark hair isn't good for tourism. People tend to panic about that kind of thing."
Then they still had time. "You have to find her first, Pete. Before—"
"I'm sorry, Madison." There was a flicker of sympathy in his face. "But I can't."
"What?" She frowned, trying to understand. "Of course you can. You're the best private detective on the West Coast. I know you are. I did my research and—"
"She's a murderer on the run. She'll be quick on the trigger with her Illusion, and I don't have any defenses against Illusions. It's not worth my life."
She leapt to her feet, tears springing to her eyes. "No, don't do this to me. I can't find her myself. I've tried so hard, but I don't know how. You're the expert. You're my only chance—"
He pushed his chair back and stood up. "You're not going to find anyone willing to track down a murderous Illusionist. Assassinate, yeah. Retrieval of a live body? No way." He reached out as if to touch her shoulder, then dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, Madison, but I can't find her for you. But let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. I really do care about what happens to you."
"If you care about me, then find my sister!"
His face hardened. "No." He gathered up his papers and headed toward her front door, and Madison ran after him.
"What can I do to change your mind?" She couldn't keep the desperate tone out of her voice. "What do you want from me?"
He turned to face her, his hand on the doorknob. "Your body."
Her stomach roiled, but she didn't hesitate. "Okay."
"Okay? Just like that?" He slid his hand down her jaw, around to the back of her neck. She tensed, fighting the urge to smack his hand away and wrench out of his grip. She felt trapped, suffocated, and her heart started to beat wildly as he lowered his head toward hers.
He brushed his mouth lightly over hers, and she managed not to pull away when he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Her brain screamed at her to get away, but she held steady, even forced herself to kiss him back, to accept his lips against hers. But as the kiss continued, she began to feel a warmth building inside her, a yearning for more. A craving low in her belly for something this kiss wasn't, for the touch of a man who could handle who she was, who could make her feel safe, who would not think she was a nightmare come to life—
Pete pulled back and looked into her face, searching her gaze. "You'd do it, wouldn't you?" He sounded surprised. "To save your sister."
She nodded, staring at his lips. It had been so long since she'd been kissed. She'd forgotten what it felt like to be touched so intimately. A part of her longed to grab him and pull him back into her. To beg him to kiss her as if he couldn't go another minute without stripping her naked and taking her right there in the hall. Not a gentle kiss like the one he'd given her, but a kiss that would make her skin catch on fire, make her body burn with heat and need until she could think of nothing but him—
Pete shook his head. "I want you, but I won't die for your sister."
She blinked at the sound of his voice, yanking her back to reality. She stepped back quickly, hugging her arms over her chest. Relieved that
she wasn't going to have to sleep with him and his soft kisses, but also shattered by the loss of her last chance to save her sister. "No sister, no sex."
"I know," he said, dropping his hand from her hair. "But let me give you some advice?"
"What?"
His gaze swept over her body, a heated look of male appreciation that made her body tingle with awareness, and something pulsed low in her abdomen. A need. A want. Not for him. For someone more.
"I ride a tight moral line, but I'd be lying through my ass if I told you I wasn't seriously tempted to take that body of yours and make it mine, even though I have no intention of finding your sister."
She felt her cheeks heat up. "Pete—"
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, an intimate touch that made tears suddenly spring to her eyes. "You're tempting sin, with that body and those silver eyes." He dropped his hand and gave her his report on her sister. "I know you're desperate, but be damned careful what you offer and who you trust. Anyone who says they'll help you find your sister is lying. Remember that." He gave her a grim smile. "You're on your own, Madison."
Chapter Four
The scent of sex hung heavy and thick in the air.
Not just sex.
A wild fusion of relentless need, unrestrained physical release, and bitter rejuvenation saturated the air, and the heavy beat of music thudded through his body.
Ajax Steele stopped just inside the door of the Devil's Cauldron, his body reacting instantly to the assault to his senses. His muscles tightened, his breath grew shallow, and blood shot to his groin.
Xander Sutton and Viktor Ivanov, two of his Order of the Blade brothers, moved up on either side of him, surveying the room packed with Calydon warriors and women. There was more skin than clothing, and many of the couples hadn't waited for rooms to become available. Violence and lust rolled through the room as the warriors embraced thousand-year-old instincts.
Raw need rolled beneath Ajax's skin, like a woman prowling inside his soul, ruthlessly teasing every cell in his body and leaving him hot, hard, and on the edge of control.
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