by Sarah Piper
I peered into the other bag. “And the stuffed… cats?”
“Oh, those are for the witches. Kind of an inside joke.”
“You’ve just thought of everything, haven’t you?” I teased, but even I was smiling at that point. Girl really knew how to bring the silver lining.
The balloons bobbed beside her now, the massive rose bouquet strategically balanced on her lap. The whole van smelled like old lady perfume, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
Besides, she was right—it was a good idea. Emilio would love everything about it, the big fucking softy.
My gut twisted as my mind tried to serve up a replay on the night he’d been attacked, but I shut that shit down fast. Our wolf was okay. He’d fucking made it through the jaws of death, the crazy bastard. All because Gray had never lost faith that he would.
“I don’t like this,” Beaumont said suddenly, scanning the road ahead. “Something feels off.”
“You think?” I reached for the console, trying to crank up the window defogger. “We’re driving through a blizzard in a tin can with half-bald tires, on a sheet of solid ice, through the pitch-black woods, and I’m not even sure we’re going the right way anymore.”
“Thanks, as always,” Beaumont said, “for the optimism. However, that’s not what I’m talking about. Something doesn’t feel right. Out there.”
I tried to follow the line of his gaze out the side passenger window, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off the road for more than two seconds at a time.
“Just a storm, Beaumont. You never seen snow before in your fancy-ass London house?”
“No, I haven’t. But that’s not—”
“You see anything weird out there, Hay?” I asked her.
“Yep. I spy something… white.” She tapped her window, then said, “Well, look at it this way, guys. If we crash into a ditch and have to sleep out in the woods overnight, at least we’re well-supplied.”
“Awesome!” I flashed her a thumbs up in the rearview. Her sunny disposition was practically a foreign language to me—I swore the girl had a physical aversion to bitching and moaning. “You can be in charge of setting up camp, okay, Bright Side?”
“You got it! Your tent will be the one next to the bear den. I’ll be sure to stock it with plenty of chocolate first.” She gave the back of my head a playful smack.
I laughed. Since Gray couldn’t touch me without starting a fire, I was pretty sure she’d given Haley carte blanche to knock me around on her behalf whenever the opportunity presented itself.
“No fucking with the driver,” I teased. “Unless you wanna end up in a ditch.”
“Pass,” she said.
Silence drifted in, and for a while, the only sounds in the van were the squeak of the wipers on the windshield, the slow grind of the tires on the snowpack, and the occasional clank of bottles in the back.
“We seem to have lost Lansky,” Beaumont finally said.
I narrowed my eyes and peered out the windshield again, as if I could see anything through the wall of white in front of us. Son of a bitch, he was right.
“Yeah, I don’t even see the taillights anymore,” I said. “How’d they get so far ahead of us?”
“Maybe they didn’t,” he said. “I doubt they’d speed up in these conditions. Perhaps they found a place to pull off.”
“Let me try Jael.” Haley dug out her phone, but that idea turned out to be a bust. “Shoot. No service. Sooo… anyone got a flare gun?”
“It’s the trees,” I said. “This stretch of road is pretty spotty for cell phones.”
“You think they’re okay?” she asked. “What if—”
“Fuck! Hold on!”
There was no warning. No time to course-correct. By the time I crested the hill and saw Lansky’s taillights swerving off the road, we were already on a collision course with the jackknifed semi he’d clearly tried to avoid. We hit a fresh patch of ice on the downslope and the steering wheel jerked from my hands, and then we were spinning like a kid’s toy, picking up speed as we careened downhill toward the wreckage, rose petals of every color falling around us like snow.
Seventeen
GRAY
It was one of those moments where you’re lying totally still, holding your breath, willing your heart not to beat, and suddenly you feel the ground shifting beneath you, dropping away.
I was so certain I’d known what Emilio was going to say, so sure I could name the ghosts that had haunted his eyes every time I stared into them for more than a moment.
I tried to save them, I thought he’d say. But I couldn’t. Or, I should’ve been able to warn them. I should’ve seen the signs. Or maybe, I was just a scared kid. I ran and hid instead of being brave, and I’ve carried that shame ever since…
But to say that it was his fault? That he’d been the one to betray them?
I swallowed hard, willing my muscles to remain still, hoping he couldn’t scent the rush of pure shock flooding my body.
“Before we came together on this case,” Emilio continued, tightening his arms around me as if he were scared I’d bolt, “Elena and I hadn’t spoken for nearly twenty years. Did you know that?”
“Not… Not really,” I said, willing my heart rate to return to normal. My skin felt hot and prickly, but not because I was afraid of Emilio or anything he might’ve done in the past, no matter how terrible.
No. I was afraid—terrified—that when he finally confessed his greatest regrets, I wouldn’t have the words to make it better for him. To give him the absolution he’d been seeking most of his life.
“I knew that you’d emigrated here together after separating from your pack, but that was basically all,” I said. “Ronan never said much about it.”
“No, he wouldn’t have. He doesn’t know the whole story anyway—just the end.” A warm sigh escaped Emilio’s lips, stirring my hair, and he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of my head. “Actually, I guess I can say now that Ronan’s part wasn’t the end. For a long time, I feared it was, but my sister… Things are… in flux right now. There’s so much… I don’t…”
I felt the sudden vibration in his chest, slowly turning into a tremor that shook the bed, and I realized he was trying—and failing—to hold back a storm of sobs.
All my words, all the right things to say, all the comforting thoughts, everything failed me. I didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to help him, so I did the only thing that felt right in that moment—I snuggled closer to him and wrapped my arms around him, drawing his head to my chest, stroking his hair. I channeled all my love for him into this moment, sending it to him, strengthening him, trying to let him know without words that it was okay to let go. To let every horrible, ugly, scary, fucked-up thing go.
He seemed to sense it, and he clung to me as he wept, burying his face in my shirt, his tears damp on my skin as they leaked out in an endless river. Soon, my own tears followed, my heart breaking for the lost wolf he’d been, the family he’d left behind.
Of all the guys, Emilio had always been the most sensitive, the most compassionate, the most in touch with the emotional side of things. But I’d never seen him so vulnerable, so exposed. Whatever had happened in Argentina, whatever guilt and shame and grief he’d endured, he’d stuffed it into a bottle and shoved it into the darkest part of his soul, keeping it locked away… Until tonight.
When he finally ran out of tears, my wolf stilled in my embrace, but he didn’t pull away. Didn’t roll over or try to mask his pain or pretend it was something else, or worse—apologize for the show of emotion, like so many men would do. Instead, he held me closer, inhaling my scent, his breathing finally smoothing out again.
Our bedroom overlooked the backyard, and outside our window, the wind howled like a banshee, ushering in another moonless night. A fresh blanket of snow had descended on Raven’s Cape, the windowpanes murky with frost. Throughout the rest of the house, we could hear the chatter of the witches, their laughter, their bickering, the occa
sional clink of dishes and silverware being set out on the table, Elena calling for wine and rum and a little more garlic in the sauce. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that she’d be preparing a feast tonight; Emilio had come through the worst of things, and everyone whose lives he’d touched wanted to celebrate.
But right now, tucked into our bed, there was only me and my wolf, safe and warm and well-hidden from the happy chaos unfolding in the rest of the house, and for a long time we clung to each other without words, twin flames flickering in the window on a dark night, illuminating the way home.
I had no warning for just how dark that night was about to get.
Eighteen
DARIUS
I blinked the fog from my mind, focusing on the skull-shaped indentation in the passenger window next to me. My skull shape, I realized, rubbing the side of my head. Blood trickled from a gash above my ear, but it was already healing.
Fortunately, I had a hard head, and though I was a bit dizzy, it seemed I was no worse for the wear.
“Ronan? Haley?” I sat up slowly, still trying to get my bearings. Both of the front airbags had deployed, and everything around me was coated in dust and rose petals. "Everyone okay?"
“Motherfucking piece of shit bullshit asshole snow! Fuck this shit! I fucking hate winter!” This, from Ronan.
“So the eloquent demon is still with us,” I said. “Excellent. Haley?”
“Still with you,” Haley piped up from the backseat, her breathing a bit erratic, but otherwise sounding like herself. “Which is more than I can say for Emilio’s presents. What the hell happened?”
“We hit… something.” I unhooked my seatbelt and tried to open the passenger door, but it refused to budge.
“A fucking semi, that’s what we hit.” Ronan wrenched open the driver’s side door and stumbled out. “A semi that had no business being out on this back road, especially in a storm.”
Haley and I joined him outside, the three of us standing in the middle of the road, trying to piece together the puzzle. The snow was falling so heavily, we had to constantly brush it from our eyes.
“The van is toast,” Ronan said. From the looks of things, we’d slid down the hill, slamming sideways into the back of the rig. The passenger side took the brunt of it, the back end of the van securely wedged underneath the truck. Half of our supplies were scattered around the wreckage.
“So glad I picked the left side to ride on,” Haley said, shivering. Whether it was the frigid night air or the realization that she’d just narrowly escaped death, I couldn’t tell.
I took her by the shoulders and looked her over, checking her head, her neck, her arms, but she waved off my ministrations.
“You'd be the first to know if I were bleeding," she said.
I let out a brittle laugh. “Indeed."
“Hey!” Someone shouted from the other side of the semi. “Ronan, Darius! That you guys?”
“Lansky,” I said.
“It’s us,” Ronan replied. “You guys okay?”
“A little banged up, but we’ll live. You?”
“Same. Anyone check the guy in the truck?”
“Not yet,” Lansky called back. “We’re a little stuck at the moment.”
“You got phone service?” Ronan asked.
“Negative.”
“Alright, we’re coming to you. Hang tight.” Gingerly, the three of us stepped around the wreckage and made our way around the back end of the semi, following the sound of Lansky’s voice. It was slow going on the icy road, with visibility at a minimum, and the danger of more vehicles sliding down that hill.
Fortunately, it seemed we were the only ones risking a drive tonight. Well, us and the semi, which seemed extremely out of place. Something about it didn’t feel right. Not just the fact that it was out on a backroad in this storm, but something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
The feeling of unease that’d crept up on me after we’d left the plaza had never really left, and now it intensified, putting all of my senses on high alert.
We found Lansky and Jael trying unsuccessfully to climb out of a ditch, their van tilted nose-first at such an extreme angle that its back wheels had lifted off the ground. Ronan and I helped them up the slope, everyone slipping and sliding on the rapidly accumulating snow.
“I swear that truck appeared out of nowhere," Lansky said. His eyes were still wide with shock, and I could smell the adrenaline surging through his blood. “One minute the roads were empty, nothing but this crazy snow. I’d just downshifted to tackle that hill, then all of a sudden, I’m hitting the brakes and swerving to avoid something that just… It just appeared.”
“He’s right,” Jael said. Other than the falling snow flattening his hair, the fae prince looked as dignified and unruffled as ever, his yellow eyes glowing faintly. “I, too, saw nothing until the very moment of near-impact.”
“Sounds like more of Orendiel’s magical bullshit to me," Ronan said. “Let’s check it out.”
“I’m going to do a damage assessment on our supplies,” Haley said. “Hopefully I can salvage a few things from our van.”
“Good idea,” Ronan said. “If we can get Lansky’s out of the ditch, we might be able to drive it back. Ours is definitely a lost cause.”
As I scanned our perimeter, keeping my heightened senses attuned to any vehicles that might’ve approached the top of the hill or any other threats coming our way, Ronan, Jael, and Lansky checked out the cab of the truck.
Ronan stepped up and peered inside the driver’s side window, shaking his head. “Driver’s definitely dead.”
“Let’s get him out,” Lansky said, and Ronan hauled open the door.
The man inside—human, by the scent of him—toppled lifelessly into Ronan's arms, his limbs as stiff as those of a weeks-old corpse.
“What the fuck?” Ronan dragged the guy to the ground, propping him up against the truck’s massive front wheel. "There's not a scratch on him, but he’s a human popsicle.”
Jael crouched down and checked for a pulse, then shook his head. After a beat, he closed his eyes and said, “This man did not die from exposure or natural causes. This is fae magic at work."
“Darkwinter?” I asked, approaching the body.
“Worse. The spell that took this man’s life force has a dual signature belonging to two extremely powerful fae.” Jael got to his feet, his typically smooth face creased with deep lines of concern. “Fenlos and Talia.”
“The bloody council,” I said. Emilio had known Talia would turn up in all of this again, he just hadn’t known how.
“The bloody council," Jael echoed.
“Looks like they’re not hiding behind their bullshit pretenses anymore,” Ronan said.
“No,” Jael confirmed. “This spell could’ve easily been camouflaged, even from me. They wanted us to know of their involvement, and to draw the next logical conclusion.”
“Which is?” I asked.
“That if the two highest-ranking members of the fae council are blatantly using their magic to sabotage us in a battle against the Darkwinter and the hunters, then the entire council has already chosen sides. It’s just as Emilio feared.”
Lansky crouched down to check the body. “Yeah, this guy’s been dead at least two weeks. Which begs the question…” He stepped around the front of the cab to the other side of the road, then returned. “How did he get here? He’s got no visible injuries and a fae magical signature. His truck literally appeared out of nowhere—there are no tire tracks on the other side of the road, and the only tracks on this side are from two vehicles—mine and Ronan’s. Highway patrol has closed just about all the roads. No one else is out in this shit right now.”
That was it, I realized. The thing that’d been bothering me about this. There were no tracks through the snow. The truck hadn’t been driven here. It was put here magically.
Lansky blew heat into his hands, spinning around to take in the rest of the scene, putting the pieces toge
ther. “Jael, you said these fae wanted you to detect their signature—you’re the only one of us who could.”
“Yes, they know by now I’m working with you. Orendiel would’ve told them about my involvement in freeing the witches from the warehouse. The public fight Kallayna and I staged would also lend credence to the fact that I’d betrayed them all, including my sister.”
“Okay,” Lansky said. “So they know you’re on our side. And they also knew, somehow, that we’d gone for a supply run today, and that we’d be taking this exact route back, even though we didn’t take it on the way out, and there are three other routes we could’ve taken to avoid the highway closures. This is a setup.”
“No, not a setup,” I said, catching a new scent on the frigid air. Lansky’s eyes suddenly widened—it seemed he’d caught it, too. “An ambush.”
It was a sharp animal odor, but not completely natural. Shifters, I figured, though not a type I’d ever encountered before. “There,” I said, nodding at a faint movement I’d just caught in the woods bordering the road. I was likely the only one who could see it through the snow. “In the trees.”
“Haley, get in the van!” Lansky barked, and drew his weapon as the big cats shot out into view.
There were six of them, snow-white but for their reflective blue-green eyes. Their body shape gave the impression of mountain lions, but these creatures were about four times larger, with thick, corded muscles and powerful jaws that looked like they could crush bones very little effort.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Ronan asked as the beasts came to a stop at the edge of the road, about fifteen feet from us.
“Because you’ve got a witch in your pocket, dumbass,” Haley said, and immediately the scent of human blood filled my nostrils. I turned to see that said witch was not in the van as Lansky had ordered, but kneeling down in the middle of the road, squeezing blood from her fist into a small pentagram she’d traced in the snow, her other palm facing out toward the shifters, as though she’d stopped them by her will alone.