by Lili Zander
“Silas is sick, Mariana.” I hold my hand out for the emerald. “I’ll understand if you want me to take this elsewhere.”
She recovers her composure. “Don’t be dramatic, cherie. It’s not a good look on you.” She waves to a chair, and I take a seat. “What do you need?”
My eyes are scratchy, and my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool. Lack of sleep is making me stupid. “I don’t know yet. All I know is that there’s a party at the Park Hyatt next Saturday.”
Her head snaps up. “The Valhalla Ball,” she says flatly. “You’re trying to steal from the five Dragon Princes.”
Man, I have got to spend less time in my room reading and more time out and about. I’ve never heard of this party, and Mariana is acting like everyone should know about it. “What’s the Valhalla Ball?”
She rolls her eyes. “Being Norm is no excuse for not knowing,” she says sternly. “Every year, the dragon princes mark the seasons with four celebrations. The Valhalla Ball on the winter solstice. The Olympus Ball on the summer solstice. The Annwn Gala is held on the spring equinox, and the Duat in the fall.”
I lean forward, fascinated. “The names,” I mutter. “Valhalla is the Hall of the Fallen, where Odin houses the warriors he deems worthy. Annwn is the Otherworld in Welsh mythology, a world of delights and eternal youth. Olympus is the mountain where the Greek gods live, and the Duat is the ancient Egyptian realm of the dead.”
Mariana gives me a questioning look, and I shrug sheepishly. “I like mythology. Tell me about this party.”
“Nobody has ever stolen from the dragon princes, Aria.”
“I’m Norm,” I reply. “They’ll be watching out for magicals. It gives me an edge.”
Her expression fills with pity. Before she can try to dissuade me again, I hold up my hand. “I’m going to do this,” I tell her. “If you don’t want to help me…”
She sighs. “Fine. First thing. This is a magical party. You’re Norm, you’ll stand out.”
Pieter can take care of that with his magic tattoos. “Okay. What else?”
“Dragon magic is ancient and powerful,” she says. “They keep their abilities hidden, guarding their secrets like the treasure they hoard, but one thing is known. Unlike the other magicals, dragons cannot be sensed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shifters can’t hide who they are. Dragons can.”
Wow, I’m really unprepared for this job. I know next to nothing about dragons. Ah, well. I have six days to learn what I need. “Security?”
“The entire building is on lockdown that night. No one enters unless they’re on a list.”
“I thought I’d infiltrate the staff.”
She shakes her head. “It’s too late for that. No new hires this close to the event.”
“Steal one of their keycards, maybe?” It worked at MagLab. I drain the last of my coffee.
“The dragon princes will be using fingerprint scanners. No, your easiest way in is an invitation.”
“You can get me on the list?” I do some calculations in my head. I’ll need at least fifteen thousand for the hospital. Maybe even all twenty. Ambulance rides and emergency rooms are ruinously expensive. But there’s still ten grand in my bank account. “How much?”
“Consider it a gift,” she replies. Her voice goes quiet. “Silas did me a favor once, a long time ago.”
There’s a lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
She looks uncomfortable at my gratitude. “You’ll need to dress up.” She waves a hand in my direction. “Every woman there is hoping to catch the attention of the Dragon Princes.”
“I can do that.” The vague seeds of a plan are taking shape. I get in as a party guest. Slip out during the party, sneak upstairs to the penthouse, crack open the safe, and back down to the party.
“I can’t risk doing recon this close to the party,” I think out loud. “I don’t want to get red-flagged. I’ll need floor plans.”
“I’ll have to buy those,” the bear-shifter replies. “They won’t be cheap.”
“It can’t be helped.”
We spend another thirty minutes talking through all the things I need, and then I get to my feet, shoving the stack of bills the fence gives me into my backpack. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
“Just don’t get caught, Aria.”
11
Erik
I’m used to impulsive behavior from Rhys. But Mateo? You think he’d have more common sense.
“Tell me why I’m following some random wolf shifter’s trail,” I grumble as we walk up 8th Avenue.
“Because you’re the best tracker of all of us,” Mateo says, flashing me a grin. “Come on, Valder. Smile. You’re scaring everyone on the street.”
I give him a quelling glare, but I have to acknowledge the truth of his words. These damn parties always put me in a bad mood. Bastian believes our mates are out there somewhere. For the last two hundred years, we’ve thrown four of these stupid balls every year.
And by Odin, the evenings are painful. The women giggle and simper, but their gazes are covetous. They’re thinking of dragon treasures. The five of us are among the richest men on Earth, and that brings out the gold-digger in every woman.
When I see them, all I can remember is Gisele. The love of my life. Dragon, fiery and passionate. She’d been pregnant when she flew into an ambush, and Gideon’s assassins had slaughtered her and her honor guard.
She filled the world with color and laughter. Ever since her death, only grey remains.
If it weren’t for the curse, I would remain in my estates, brooding about everything I’ve lost. Unfortunately, I have responsibilities. I am a Dragon Prince, after all.
I follow the faint scent of the shifter from the bar where Valentini and Griffith ran into him all the way to a hospital. Mateo frowns when he reads the sign. “Preston Memorial,” he says. “Why would he come here?”
“Was he injured?”
He shakes his head. “Not when he left the bar. Did he get into a fight?”
“I’m not sure.” I dial Bastian, who has lived in Manhattan for more than thirty years and knows the city like the back of his hand. “What do you know about Preston Memorial?” I ask when he picks up.
“The shifter hospital near Columbus Circle?”
“Yes.”
“I donate an obscene amount of money to it every year,” he says dryly.
“Enough to bend a few privacy laws?”
“I’ll get Tracy to make a call to the hospital manager right away,” he says. “Her name is Victoria Schwartz.” His tone turns curious. “What’s going on?”
Mateo stiffens at my side, and I feel a surge of magic wash over me. I follow his gaze to the side entrance, where a beautiful blond woman is wheeling a grey-haired wolf shifter out. “I can walk, Aria,” he grumbles.
“Suck it up, Silas.” Her words sound harsh, but there’s a wealth of love in her tone. “This is what you get for scaring the crap out of me.”
“That’s her,” Mateo says at my side. “Aria.”
“I’ll call you back, Bastian.” I hang up and survey the Norm woman that Mateo’s so fascinated with. I don’t see the attraction. “She can’t see us?”
“No. I put a gaes on them. They’ll see us, but forget immediately.”
As if she can hear us, she turns her head in our direction. She’s got large dark, tired-looking eyes, and blond hair that she wears in a braid down her back. She’s bundled up in a red coat, and her cheeks are pink in the cold. “Are you sure?” I ask Mateo under my breath. “She’s looking right at us, and I’m pretty sure she’s recognized you.”
He looks up, startled, just as she breaks out into a smile. “Mateo?” she calls out. Her cheeks go red, and she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her neck. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
He’s following the guy who threatened you last night.
Valentini is a terrible liar. I jump in before he sa
ys something stupid. “We’re here to visit an old friend.”
Too late. In the space it’s taken us to close the distance between us, she’s gone from surprised to suspicious. Her brows draw together. “A shifter friend?”
“Not all Norms avoid shifters,” Mateo replies, flashing her a charming grin. He’s good. Almost as good as the Welshman. I watch her smile automatically in response to his charm, and for some reason, it just makes me irritated. “This is my friend Erik, by the way.”
She gives me a smile of greeting. “I’m Aria, and this is Silas.”
I shake her hand. She’s tiny. Her hands are dwarfed by mine. “Good to meet you,” I lie. Sure, she’s beautiful, but beautiful women are a dime a dozen. There’s nothing interesting about being pretty.
Mateo’s gaes didn’t work on her. That’s interesting.
Maybe the mage’s spells don’t work when he’s thinking with his dick.
Then again, Mateo’s gaes appears to be working on the older wolf-shifter with Aria, because he gives us a vacant smile. “Hello.”
A cold gust of wind hits our faces, and the wolf shifter shivers. Aria notices the movement, and her expression turns instantly concerned. “I have to get Silas home,” she says.
“I’ll hail you a cab,” Mateo says gallantly, stepping into the street and raising his hand. A yellow taxi screeches up almost immediately.
The wolf-shifter struggles to get up from his wheelchair, and the worry lines around Aria’s eyes deepen. “Hang on, Silas,” she scolds. “You heard what the doctor told you. You’re supposed to take it easy for the next week or two.”
What’s she going to do, lift him? She looks like a good gust of wind could blow her away. Gritting my teeth, I lift the older man gently. Mateo opens the taxi door, and I set him inside, tucking the blanket around him.
I can feel Aria’s gaze on me. “Thank you,” she says, sliding in next to Silas. For an instant, gratitude outweighs suspicion. But only for an instant. “Who did you say you were visiting?”
“Mina Strauss.” Bastian’s hyper-capable assistant is going to have to falsify some medical records. I wonder if anyone’s ever asked Tracy to hack into a hospital. “She’s a panther-shifter. Got into a bar fight last night, and she got scratched up rather badly.”
She shudders. “Ouch.”
We mutter some pleasantries, and the cab takes off. Mateo stares at the street, itching his right wrist absently. “My gaes didn’t work on her,” he says.
“Has that ever happened before?”
He draws himself up to his full height. “Of course not. A gaes is pretty elementary magic. I’ve cast thousands of them, and this has never happened.”
Aria is trouble. “She’s Norm,” I say out loud. “She shouldn’t be able to fight your magic.”
“That’s what I thought too.” He frowns thoughtfully. “Let’s go talk to Casius. If anyone’s ever heard of a gaes failing, it’ll be him.”
12
Aria
My insides feel… fluttery. That’s the only way to describe it. My knees are weak, and my nipples are hard.
Because of the cold, I tell myself firmly. That’s the only reason.
Both Mateo and Rhys were tall, but Erik is massive. He looks like a mountain. An angry, hot, scowling, sexy mountain of a man.
The cab heads down 10th Avenue. I half-expect Silas to ask me about the men. He’s not one of those father-figures that bristle when their daughter brings home a guy, but he does like to know who I’m dating. In anyone else, I’d find the concern annoying and intrusive, but this is Silas.
However, to my surprise, he doesn’t appear curious. He tips his head back and closes his eyes. “The nurse told me you were at my side all night,” he says, a mild rebuke in his voice. “Did you get a chance to catch up on sleep this morning?”
Guilt sloshes through my stomach at the memory of my morning activities. “Yeah, I went back to the apartment and took a nap,” I lie.
“That’s good.”
“I should have been home last night.” The words burst out of my throat. “Instead of dancing at Cellar. Silas, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, little cub.” He smiles affectionately. “You can’t waste your life fussing over me. I’ve lived my life fully and well.”
“You’re going to be fine.”
He lifts his shoulder in a weak shrug. “On balance, I prefer to live,” he says frankly. “But this is the order of things, and if now is the time, I’m not afraid.”
But I am. I’m terrified. I’m not ready for Silas to be gone.
Back home, I help Silas to his bed and put his cell phone within reach. “Brooke called,” I lie again. “I have to work. There’s some lasagna in the freezer.”
“Get out of here.” He makes a shooing gesture in my direction. “There’s college football on TV, and if I need something, I’ll give Pete a call.”
Pete’s the guy who used to own Cellar. If he’s going to drop by, then I know the two men are going to spend the entire afternoon drinking beer and shouting at the TV. “Did the doctor say you could drink?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Yes, Aria. She did. Now go.”
I take a shower, hoping that it’ll wake me up, but the hot water just makes me sleepy. It doesn’t matter. Time is of the essence. Once I dry my hair and apply my eyeliner and mascara, I head out again.
This time, my destination is Pieter’s tattoo parlor in Park Slope.
The F-train is miraculously empty. I take a seat and close my eyes. It’s a forty-five minute ride to Brooklyn, and I’m desperate for a nap.
But I can’t fall asleep. The moment I close my eyes, I feel someone’s gaze on me. The weight of the scrutiny is almost a physical touch. I take a deep breath and let my senses expand like I did this morning at Central Park.
It’s the wolf-shifter from last night. My new client doesn’t trust me very much. His hired muscle is following me around.
Strangely, the moment I identify who it is, my nerves recede. I’m too far gone to be worried about my known enemies. It’s the unknown ones I’m concerned about.
Like the five Dragon Princes whose treasure I’m going to steal.
“Well, well, well.” Pieter’s eyebrows lift. “Aren’t you supposed to be retired?”
I managed to give my tail the slip on my way to Pieter’s 7th Avenue storefront. I even feel somewhat rested. “Can’t a girl visit her friends anymore?”
“You can,” he retorts snarkily. “But you don’t. So, what’s the job, and does dear old Silas know?”
I’m about to answer when my attention is caught by a poster on his back wall. It’s my mystery client, and underneath, in bright red lettering is one simple word that sends a chill running down my back. ‘Wanted.’
I walk around Pieter’s desk and read the small print underneath, but I don’t learn a lot, just that my client’s name is Drakkar Raedwulf, and he’s wanted by Lord Bastian Jaeger for questioning.
“Friend of yours?” Pieter inquires from behind me, a rare note of concern in his voice.
“Not exactly. Why?”
“Because Raedwulf has a terrible reputation,” he frowns. “He was a member of the roughest pack in the country, the Red Growlers. Then they kicked him out.”
“Why?”
“Nobody knows,” he says somberly. “But Aria, if that band of honorless wolves threw him out…” His voice trails off. “Now Lord Jaeger wants him for questioning. Raedwulf’s time is running out.”
I debate telling Pieter that the wolf shifter is my new client, and decide against it. Given how dangerous this job is shaping up to be, the tattoo artist might take it upon himself to tell Silas what I’m doing, and I definitely can’t have that.
“So, what’s the job?”
I think quickly and settle for a variant of the truth. “I’m crashing the Valhalla Gala on Saturday,” I reply. “There should be some easy pickings among the guests.”
He winces. “That’s a terri
ble idea. The guests are under the protection of the dragon princes. By stealing from them, you are stealing from the dragons themselves.”
Oh, you have no idea, my friend. “No lectures, please. I’ve already heard an earful from Mariana.”
“No doubt.” He grins. “How is that old bear?”
“I think her arthritis is acting up.” I watch as Pieter locks his front door and flips the sign to ‘Closed.’ Then he opens a locked turquoise wooden cabinet in the back of his store and pulls a vial of a blue, shimmering liquid from one of the shelves.
Potion. Good. We’re getting to business.
“The Valhalla Ball is a shifter party,” he says, echoing Mariana’s words. “You’ll need to be disguised. This will do the trick.”
“I’ll pass as shifter? What kind?”
“Fox.”
I roll my sleeves up and stick my right hand out, scratching my wrist. My skin is red and inflamed. Pieter surveys it, his brows furrowed. “Something bite you?”
“Dunno. It’s been irritating me all day.” He fills his tattoo gun with the shimmering blue liquid. “How much?” I ask before he can get to work.
“For you? A grand. I’ll add a delay to it so the magic won’t start working until Saturday. The rune will work for eight hours, and it’ll fool everyone except the dragons.”
“Wait, the dragons will recognize me as Norm?” I sit up. “How’s that going to help me?”
“The only dragons in attendance will be the five Dragon Princes,” he replies. “I strongly recommend that you avoid them.” He taps at the table in front of him, and I place my arm on it. “The guards are shifters. This will work on them.”
“Okay.” A thousand dollars is a lot, but Pieter is the best in the business, and this tattoo will be worth every penny. I grit my teeth as he inks a rune on my forearm. “Just in case I do run into a dragon, do you have anything that might help?”
He gives me a stern look. “Aria,” he warns, “dragons are dangerous.”
“I’m not planning on getting caught,” I reply. “I’m just being prepared.”
