by Mary Hughes
“All the engines fritzed. The plane went down.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Shyder and his parents survived. Mine…didn’t. At the funeral, I asked him why. Why he’d done that spell. He said he hadn’t done it on purpose. But then…then his face twisted, and he hissed at me that it was a good thing someone had. He said the Lights were upstarts and bad for the Council and all witchkind.
“I was shocked. Stood speechless as he railed at me. I was bad blood, my parents had gotten what they deserved, and some day I would too. He knew it was all true because his own parents said it. He walked away, leaving me beside my parents’ caskets, and I didn’t see him again until now.”
“You poor man.” She caressed his hair, but he couldn’t feel it, lost in his own misery. “Is that when you put on the glasses and sweater vests?”
“Not quite.” Memory didn’t simply crush this time, it sliced to the bone. He looked away.
Your fault. Showoff. You might as well have killed them yourself.
His own flesh-and-blood had named the ugly truth in him. She’d hated him for it, almost as much as he hated himself.
Now Emma would have the chance to hate him too.
Be brave. Honor her and what you have together—and what you might have had—with the truth.
“After the funeral, my sister and I went home with our grandmother. At dinner, well, I was angry and hurt and in shock, and I mouthed off about Shyder envying me and hating me and moaned it wasn’t my fault.
“And my grandmother said—I’ll never forget this—she said ‘Stop blaming that boy. I saw the way he looked at you when you were children. He idolized you, but you crushed him. He might have triggered that crash, but you triggered him. Your parents wouldn’t have died if you weren’t such a damned show-off.’ God.”
“She was probably in shock too,” Emma pointed out. “Grieving for her child.”
“Yes.” He took in a bushel of air, trying to cool his burning shame. “Heartbroken, she died soon after. Another death at my feet.”
She opened her mouth to say something—maybe blame him too.
Sweet, kind Emma. His precious little shifter who’d somehow come to mean the world to him. His grandmother’s accusations had hurt him, but Emma’s would destroy him.
Before she could, he blurted, “My grandmother felt I was responsible for their deaths. And she was right. I re-examined my life, seeing my flamboyance and competitive nature for what they were. Seeing, for the first time, how I hurt those around me.” He swallowed hard. The realization had stabbed him then, but picturing it through Emma’s eyes, it skewered him. “That’s when I packed away my ego and tried to blend in. It’s hard, really hard, but it’s better this way.” He released her clasp, certain she wouldn’t want to touch him now.
Sure enough, her stroking hand dropped from his hair. “Really?” The single word had no inflection.
He couldn’t tell if she meant it sarcastically, or as reinforcement. He couldn’t look at her.
“Yes.” He picked up his glasses from the nightstand and stared through them. Everything was blurry. He set them on his nose, but no matter how he shifted the lenses, nothing looked clear. “It’s why I wear these. Part of my protective coloration.”
She was silent.
His shoulders felt like wound springs. The fear seared him that, if he looked at her now, though his vision was blurred he’d see her condemnation all too clearly.
Bravery only went so far; he couldn’t risk it.
The silence stretched.
He ought to look at her, do something. But what? She was sweet and kind and even her berserker talent only came out when there was true danger. He was a sham of a hero, a man who fought battles because he enjoyed them and who rescued damsels for the kiss. He didn’t deserve her, and she was probably seeing that at last. She’d probably demand he use the key now, to break her tie to him.
She’d made a big deal about us, together. Now that would crumble as if it had never been.
Pain made him look at last. Her pretty brow was furrowed. It was obvious she was considering her words very carefully indeed.
Most likely bad, then. The last time she’d worked this hard was when she’d admitted she’d had sex with him to get pregnant.
A pang hit him, hard, a pang of longing. For a baby, for their baby…
“Gabriel, no.”
He’d been so utterly captivated by the thought of their child that he wasn’t sure what she was saying no to. His grandmother’s blame? Or a no to them?
Before he could ask her, pounding started at the door.
“Bad news.” Pan’s voice.
Gabriel’s training kicked in, shutting out hopes, memories, shame. Shunting aside Emma’s “Gabriel, no” until he had time to deal with it. Later. He was a cool machine when Pan continued.
“Put on your clothes, boys and girls. Open up. We need to talk, now.”
* * *
Emma had finally worked out what to say to Gabriel when Pan interrupted.
Her emotions were still churning, but somehow her mate transformed instantly to every inch the focused battle mage and barked, “Clothes.”
The weight of clothes dragged her down. Not the ones she’d been wearing, but lighter than the gunnysack of a muumuu.
She looked down. Her body was barely covered by a gossamer red lace teddy.
Maybe not every inch focused.
“Um…I’m going to dress in the bathroom.” She scooped up her jeans, tee, and underthings. “I’ll leave the door open so I can hear what Pan has to say.”
Gabriel glanced at her—then did a gratifying double-take before he squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry, stupid limiter. Okay, not the limiter. But still sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She scurried to the bathroom and began to pull on clothes—underwear and everything—over the teddy as Gabriel opened the door with a terse, “What?”
Footfalls entered, two sets. A moment later Pan and Goodwin’s scents dusted the currents of air.
“We heard from Noah’s beta, Mason.” Goodwin’s tone, instead of the usual politely cultured, was tense. “Noah is in a coma.”
“What?”
That was Gabriel, but Emma nearly shouted the same question. She sucked in a breath that cut like knives. She hadn’t hit him that hard, had she? Beast. Brute.
A phone rang. Goodwin said, “Excuse me, it’s your aunt. Hello?”
“Pan?” Gabriel’s tone was tense. “What’s going on with Noah?”
“His familiar Bram thinks the mating bond was stretched too tight for too long.”
“The coma is because Noah’s separated from Sophia?”
Emma’s breathing eased…until the implications hit her. Horrible implications voiced a moment later by Pan.
“Yes. He’ll die soon unless your sister is freed. He probably has a day, maybe two.”
“Damn it, does the Enforcer know? He has to let her go.”
“According to Mason, the Enforcer knows—but isn’t sympathetic.”
“Fuck. And Sophia?” Gabriel’s voice was dark with fear.
A pause. “We’re not sure. We don’t know enough about their bond, whether she has an inner wolf or what. At the very least her wolf will die. Probably she will, too.”
“That’s stepped up to certainty,” Goodwin said. “Linda overheard the Enforcer planning an ‘accident’ for Sophia. A little toxic demon gas leaked into her bubble, a dusting of chalk on her dead fingers and a mis-drawn pentacle…no one will ever know it wasn’t a stressed witch making a bad mistake. We don’t know when, but she has considerably less than a day.”
“What? Good fuck, I knew his grudge was personal, but this is homicidal. I’m beginning to think he won’t rest until my whole family is dead.”
Silence.
Emma’s hand shook zipping up her jeans. Her mating bond versus his sister’s life—it was a no-brainer. Time to prove she loved Gabriel. But knowing their time was up, her he
art cracked, tears leaking from her clenched eyes. Flowing down her cheeks.
Ah, hell. Living things needed water to grow. Here was water for her living, messy love.
She strode into the room. “Take the journal.”
“Emma?” Gabriel blinked at her from behind his glasses.
“Take it. Use the key.” She scooped up the journal from the table and thrust it at him.
“Are you sure?” He hesitated, and she loved him for that.
“There’s no other way. Besides, it’s only a book.” Her love for her father—and for Gabriel, beautiful, heroic Gabriel—would still be in her heart.
Cold comfort as Bruiser rutted away at her. Stole her will from her.
Gabriel didn’t take it.
Stubborn, wonderful male. “There’s no other way,” she repeated, proud when her arm only trembled a little.
His spectacles couldn’t hide the deep understanding in his blue-green, serious gaze. He knew she was exposing herself for his sister’s sake, knew there was a real risk that she’d end up in Bruiser’s horrific clutches.
Knew she was right, that there was no other way.
“We’ll renew the bonds as soon as we can,” he promised as he took the journal.
He meant it. She read his determination and more, the admiration and possibly even love in his gaze, and dared hope. If her sacrifice had offset the horror of her beast just a little…maybe they had a future. “Thank you.”
A future, as long as Bruiser didn’t get to her first.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Driving back to Matinsfield, Gabriel tried to keep his eyes on the road, but with all the thoughts roiling through his head and emotions burning through his chest, it was hard.
The cat’s scolding didn’t help.
“This is a bad idea, I tell you.” The orange tom Mr. Kibbles sat on the console between Gabriel and his doubled passengers Emma and Pan. Though the cat’s exact words were actually “Meow rahwer prrrt”, his meaning was quite plain. Goodwin had never needed to be in his human form to be understood.
“He’s right, you know,” Pan said. “A lot can go wrong with your plan. Starting with not knowing where the jail’s door is.”
“Why do we need the location of the Enforcer’s door?” Emma asked. “Can’t we make a new one?”
“If you were on the inside of the bubble, you could.” Pan said. “Or rather, you and Gabriel. But we don’t know enough about that technique. Our research came up strangely empty—a hole rather than simply inadequate information, as if entries about the power of combining magical types has been deleted…well, point being, you aren’t on the inside, we haven’t got the information we need, and we’re on the clock. Which leaves the Enforcer’s portal, which is anchored to wherever he originally created it.”
“Oh.” Her green eyes tracked, her busy mind digesting the information. “But won’t the master key open her portal from wherever we are…? No, wait, I can answer that myself. We can crack open the door, but unless we’re physically there to call for her, she may not know it’s open. We can’t guarantee a successful rescue.”
“That’s about it.”
“We don’t have time to tease the door’s location from the Enforcer.” Gabriel rewrapped his hands on the steering wheel, having to use conscious effort to keep from squeezing it into paste. “The portal is most likely in the parlor. With Noah and Sophia’s lives on the line, we need to risk it. We need to trigger the partial key there.”
“Do you even know how?” Pan said bluntly.
“Yeah, I think so.” Gabriel understood all the familiars’ objections and happened to agree with them. He just didn’t have the luxury of being able to be cautious. “Modern prison keys activate with a pulse of power. I doubt the jail talisman is different.”
“What about Sophia’s mating bond?” Emma asked. “You said it’s invisible, but isn’t there a spell you could do to trace it to her cell?”
Pride at her ability to think strategically warred with his frustration with the whole situation. “Given time, a safe place to work blood magic, and my full power? Probably. But we only have one of those three, and even the bookstore isn’t completely safe any more.”
“And if the door isn’t miraculously in the one place we look?” Pan’s tone was sarcastic. “What then, we run around Matinsfield, calling ‘Red rover, red rover, let Sophia come over’?”
That reminded him vividly of Pan’s original far-fetched idea, him and Emma having sex on every available surface. While his familiar had proposed the idea in jest, Gabriel could picture it all too clearly…and so could his rising cock. The thing had no decorum or sense of timing, but in this case he kind of envied its simple single-mindedness.
Its simple happiness at having found its love. It didn’t know it was about to lose her.
Pan growled, “This would have been a helluva lot easier if Noah had been there when Sophia was taken and could tell us the portal’s location.”
Emma pointed out, “As pissed as Noah was? He’d have turned the Enforcer into so much cat food.”
“Mee-ow,” Mr. Kibbles said, puss wrinkled in disgust.
“My apologies,” Emma said sincerely. “It’s a wolvish saying. Of course I know you wouldn’t really eat the Enforcer.”
“Yeah,” Pan growled. “He’d give even the hardiest digestion gas.”
Emma looked shocked, but then she gave a little laugh. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“He knew what you meant.” Gabriel managed a small smile. “That’s his idea of a joke. Sick, but his sense of humor is skewed even more than mine.”
“Yeah, sure. I was joking,” Pan said. “Mostly.”
“Look, I know the plan’s incomplete.” Gabriel tried not to let his irritation snip his words. “I thought we’d activate the key, then when we see what we’re dealing with, find the door.”
“Easy peasy. Oh, except fixing the Infinite Ones’ cracks and any unknown fallout.”
He leveled his familiar with a glare. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Emma’s smooth brow wrinkled in thought. Gabriel thought she had the prettiest wrinkled brow in the world…he was a besotted imbecile. Keep on task.
She said, “Why don’t we make the Enforcer tell us where the portal is?”
Pan barked a laugh. “That would be nice. How, a little torture? A soupcon of truth serum? Sic his mommy on him?”
“Actually, I thought we could use an app.”
A beat. “All right, I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
“Do you have your phone?”
“Where’s yours…?”
Gabriel gave his panther familiar a shake of the head. Any phones she had were in the clothes left behind in their original jail.
“Never mind.” Pan squirmed in his seat, coming up with his smartphone. The tech was bespelled, as all Gabriel’s friends’ tech, against magical misfire. Sweeping off his lock, the familiar offered it to Emma. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She tapped into his app list, sweeping pages until her eyes lit. “This one.” She showed it to the panther over her shoulder. “See?”
“It’s a picture app. So?”
Gabriel glanced at the phone. A pink lotus flower filled the screen—along with a succession of little red stars that, one at a time, appeared and disappeared.
“Yes.” Emma looked smug. “It’s designed to show a picture—and track eye movement on that picture.”
“The red stars,” Gabriel said. “Those marks are where Pan is looking.”
“Eyes on the road,” the familiar growled at him. To Emma, he said, “How do little red stars help us find Sophia?”
“Show the Enforcer a floor plan of the B-and-B and say Sophia’s name. He’ll look at the place he imprisoned her. He won’t be able to help it.”
“Brilliant.” Pan glanced at Gabriel. He could see his familiar was really impressed, and sat a little straighter.
Emma said, “The hard part will be finding a floor plan.�
�
“Hardly.” Pan took the phone and began sweeping and poking. “I am a familiar. I eat research for breakfast.”
By the time Gabriel parked the car in front of the Uncommon Night Owl Bookstore, his heart was pumping hard. His plan was sound, but there were so many ways it could go wrong. Even if everything went well, there was the big unknown of what would happen when the Infinite Ones’ jails were cracked.
One thing he did know—with a name like Infinite Ones, the result wouldn’t be good.
“Lucky the B-and-B’s owner put her remodeling plans online,” Emma said.
“Please.” Pan flicked his eyes upward. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”
But Gabriel had the best team possible. Though the risks were great, the need was greater. He turned off the engine and unfolded himself from the car. If he didn’t use the key, Sophia would die, and Noah and their children too.
As he rounded the hood to open the passenger door, Pan continued, “Matinsfield requires the plans for building permits. That’s all public record.”
Emma said, “And the public records are online because…?”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “That was me, I’m afraid. When I donated computers for the city’s server farm last year, I might have added that feature.” He offered his hand to her.
“So, not luck.” She took it. “Cheating.”
He helped her out with a quick grin. “I prefer to think of it as good planning.”
Pan emerged lithely behind her. “I prefer to think of it as the awesome research skills of your familiar combined with wizardly dumb luck.”
Mr. Kibbles, hopping out behind him, added a concurring, “Meow.”
“Ha. You’re both laugh riots.” As Gabriel looked at his team, relaxed but ready for action, the familiar sparkle of adrenaline spiked his blood. “Let’s go over this again, to make sure our change works. Mr. Kibbles heads to the B-and-B to give Auntie a heads-up, staying in his cat form so the Enforcer doesn’t get wind of their relationship.” Which still felt weird to Gabriel. He’d known the cat Mr. Kibbles most of his life. He got a brief, strange thought, wondering if Goodwin had a cat’s barbed penis, then immediately doused his brain in mind bleach.
