by Linsey Hall
“Hey.” His voice was rough, lowered.
I shivered. “Hey.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips. Warmth flowed through me at the brief touch. I gripped his strong bicep and held him to me a moment longer, then pulled back.
“Successful trip?” He took a seat near me.
“Yeah. More than I expected.” I glanced around at everyone. Aidan had taken a seat next to Cass. “I saw your brother.”
Roarke’s brows shot high. “Did you, now?”
“Yeah. He was at the gambling den where we caught the Telenec demon. I was going to try to nab him, but as soon as he saw me, he turned to black mist and disappeared.”
Roarke frowned. “That’s a new talent.”
“It is?”
Roarke nodded. “Last I knew, he was half demon like me. How he got a new power, I have no idea. He’s not part FireSoul or anything like that.”
We were one of the very few species who could steal powers. In fact, until I’d learned that I could use my Phantom form to steal demon powers, I hadn’t even known there was another species that could steal powers.
“I wonder how he got it, then?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I assume that’s how he got out of prison,” Roarke said.
“Makes sense,” Aidan said. “There’s pretty much no way to escape the Order prison unless you have powerful, dark magic.”
“Or good friends,” Cass added.
I grinned. We’d helped her and Emile escape the Order prison a few months ago. It hadn’t been easy, but we’d managed.
“Either way, that’s good information,” Roarke said. “Aidan and I were able to track down Caden’s supposed home base. If we’re going to go after him, we need to know what he can use against us.”
“So you found him, then?” I asked.
Aidan nodded. “My friend had heard of a half demon living in Florida who met Caden’s description.”
“Florida?” Nix asked. “You mean, land of retirees and gators.”
“The very one,” Roarke said. “Apparently, he’s got a little place in the Everglades. Far off the beaten path.”
I nodded. “All right. He’s trying to lie low. Can’t blame him.”
“But if he’s sided with the Shadows, wouldn’t he stick close to them?” Cass asked. “Their headquarters are in Germany, right?”
“Not sure,” Roarke said. “We didn’t learn anything other than his potential location.”
“Then we’ll go after him. See what he knows about the Shadows.” Worry tugged at me as I said the name. But almost as soon as the words left my lips, I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. This is about you and your brother. Not everything is about me.”
I’d been so obsessed with everything that I’d learned about my past lately that I’d forgotten Roarke hadn’t seen his brother in years. Ever since he’d tried to save him from the bad stuff he’d gotten into. And failed.
Roarke squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about it. This can be about both. As much as I’d love to find my brother and for everything to be great, it’s not going to happen. He’s committed the blackest magic. Killed people. I’ve come to terms with it. At this point, it’s all about figuring out what’s coming.”
I tightened my grip on his, my heart clenching at the sadness on his face. He’d really loved his brother. Just because Caden had done some terrible things didn’t mean that Roarke could forget loving him.
“So, we’ll go find him.” I nodded decisively. “And bring something to neutralize his ability to escape using his mist.” I was glad I’d seen him at the gambling den, or we’d have blown it when we finally found him.
“My thoughts exactly,” Roarke said.
“I think I can help you with that.” Connor approached, broom propped over his shoulder. “A freezing charm should keep him from running for it.”
“And my dampening charm—the bracelet that neutralizes powers,” Cass said. I’d helped her steal the bracelet from a pyramid once. She’d worn it for a while to help control her crazy powers. “You can have that. If you freeze him and then slap the bracelet on him, he shouldn’t be able to get away when he wakes up.”
“Thanks, guys.”
“You’ll just need to make sure he doesn’t pull the bracelet off,” Cass said.
“I’ll take care of it.” Good thing I’d stolen the metal magic last week. It looked like I’d have to use it in the swamp. Along with who knew what else.
Chapter Two
After a long shower to scrub off the demon blood and a good night’s sleep, I set about selecting my battle garb.
Not only was Caden important to Roarke, he might have answers for me. Answers that I desperately wanted. The not knowing was starting to eat at me, wearing me down.
That meant pulling out the big guns. I selected a lucky pendant and two lucky bracelets—a matching set of Arctic silver crafted by the ice people of the north—along with a lucky T-shirt that had been bought at Target on a rare trip to a human city. Some things were made to be lucky—like the silver jewelry—and other things just turned out to be that way. The shirt had served me well on several demon-hunting expeditions last year and had been upgraded to a lucky item. I then chose my oldest—and most trusted—leather pants and jacket.
Properly outfitted, with my sword stored in the ether and the bracelet Cass had given me in my jacket pocket, I hurried down the stairs and out into the cool morning air. It was nearly the holidays now, and Oregon was letting us know it’d be a chilly one.
“Hey!” I waved at Roarke, who waited for me outside of P & P. Because he’d spent so much time lately helping me with my problems and hunting his brother, he’d had to head back to the Underworld last night to deal with some issues.
“Hey.” He grinned at me and approached, meeting me halfway. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and absorbed the warmth of his kiss, enjoying the shivers that traveled along my arms. He smelled divine, like some sort of masculine soap and his own unique scent.
Finally, I pulled back. “We really need to work out some time off.”
Over the last week, the most we’d managed were a few stolen hours for kisses and conversation. I was pretty sure I was ready to take it up a notch, but timing had not been working in my favor.
A grin tugged at the corner of his full lips. “As soon as you’re not running for your life or trying to figure out what’s coming for you, we’ll work on it.”
“Deal.” I reached for his hand, and we started toward P & P. “Did you sort out the demon thing?”
“Another uprising,” he said. “Again, they were gone by the time I got there.”
“Like last week.” He’d been called away for almost the exact same reason.
“Exactly, but in a different location.”
“Think they are linked?”
“Could be. I’m not a fan of coincidences.” He held open the door, and I preceded him inside. The shop was warm, and the rich scent of espresso and buttery pastry wafted toward me. Two regulars sat at their usual table, drinking coffee and reading the paper.
Connor hustled out of the back. His gaze brightened when it landed on us. “Got your stuff ready. Just finished the last batch.”
“Thanks.” I grinned, eyeing his band T-shirt. The Proclaimers. Classic. As if on cue, the song about walking 500 miles popped on over the speakers. I pointed to the little black box blaring sound. “This is one of my faves.”
“I always knew you had good taste.” He pushed the flop of dark hair off his forehead. “Can I get you a drink before you go? Espresso for both of you, right?”
“Exactly.” I grinned.
“Yes, thanks,” Roarke said.
Connor turned and set about fiddling with his fancy silver espresso machine. Roarke and I approached the counter. The glass display case was full of frosted, fruity confections and fat, fluffy muffins.
“Everything looks
amazing,” I said.
“Agreed.” Roarke squeezed my hand. “That means you should get one of each.”
I laughed. I wasn’t usually a huge breakfast eater, but this morning I could do some serious damage to the contents of the display case.
After Connor passed over our espressos and packaged us up a few pastries to go, we paid and followed him toward the back. The narrow galley kitchen was immaculate, as usual. Almost like the pastries popped out of thin air, though I knew he’d been baking them since early this morning. When Connor slept, I had no idea.
At the far end of the kitchen, we waited outside the door to his potions shop. I peered in. As usual, it was cluttered and messy. Connor picked up two vials of bright green liquid and handed them to me.
“Careful,” he said. “One drop of that touches your skin, and you’ll be out like a light for half a day.”
“Perfect.” I held one up and watched the light glint through the potion. “So I just chuck this at him?”
“Yep. The glass is sturdy, but it will explode on impact and he’ll be down for the count. And don’t waste it. I only had enough ingredients for two. I can make more, but it’ll take a week to get the supplies.”
“What do we owe you?” Roarke asked.
“Just for the supplies,” Connor said.
I examined Connor’s workshop as Roarke paid him.
“Good luck,” Connor said.
“Thanks, I think we might need it.” I studied the vial in my hand. “Actually, we’ll definitely need it.”
When Roarke and I stepped out of the Underpath in Florida, the sun beat down harshly on our heads, a blazing light that heated my hair.
“Didn’t this place get the message that it’s winter?” I asked.
“Florida never gets the message.”
We stood in a tiny graveyard in the middle of nowhere. Massive trees decorated with moss threw speckled shade everywhere except on us, and the battered old church at the edge of the cemetery looked like it had seen better days. There was as much bare gray wood as there was peeling white paint. Headstones tilted this way and that. And those were the lucky ones—most were toppled over entirely.
“This place was abandoned after the Depression,” Roarke said.
“Not a surprise. There’s nothing out here.”
“Not anymore. Just the swamp.” He pointed east.
I was about to ask how he knew it was that direction when the rumble of a car’s engine broke the midday silence. A moment later, a battered red pickup truck with a white stripe trundled up in front of the church.
A demon wearing a cut-off flannel shirt and a John Deere cap hung out of the driver’s window and shouted, “Hey, boss!”
“Your associate?” I asked.
“Jim Bob, the one and only.”
“A backwoods demon?”
“Swamp demon. There’s a difference, and he’ll thank you not to forget it.”
“Right-o.” I followed Roarke across the uneven ground of the cemetery, dodging the tilted headstones.
“Thanks for meeting us, Jim Bob.” Roarke reached out and shook his hand through the open window.
Jim Bob had a lump under his bottom lip that I could only assume was tobacco. He poked it with his tongue, then grinned. It wasn’t attractive, though he was endearing in his own weird way. The only sign that he was a demon were the two little bumps under his hat where his horns would be.
“Not a problem, boss.” Jim Bob had some kind of southern twang that I couldn’t readily identify, but I assumed it was Everglades demon, if that was even a thing. “Hop in. I’ll take you to the water. I got my airboat there, waiting for you.”
We climbed in, Roarke in the front and me in the back. I had to clear out a space amongst the chewing tobacco containers and Pabst Blue Ribbon cans, finally crunching down into some sort of seat. I’d have to tell Cass—she’d approve of this demon’s taste in beer.
Jim Bob peeled away from the church, his tires kicking up dust.
“Been a bit dry lately, but there’ll be plenty of water in the swamp. Gators, too.”
Oh, my favorite.
“Do you know anything about a settlement in the swamp?” Roarke asked.
“Yup.” Jim Bob nodded. “Far back, past Picnic Island and deep into no-man’s land. Humans can’t go there.”
“Can’t or don’t?” I asked.
“Both. It’s a little supernatural settlement for runaways. Lawbreakers, mostly. Hiding out for their crimes. There’s a spell that repels humans, but if you get too close, other things will keep you out.”
“Anything we should be aware of?” Roarke asked.
“Yeah.” Jim Bob leaned over and spat out the truck window. “Try to keep a low profile. Go to Willy’s, the bar in town, and ask Willy how to find whoever it is you’re looking for. But be prepared to pay.”
“Willy owns the place?” I asked.
“Does indeed. He’ll be behind the bar, slinging drinks.”
He pulled the truck over to the side of the road where a long, calm river was bordered by a sea of tall grass that waved in the wind. The grass was planted firmly in the water, some kind of aquatic species. A weird little boat with a huge fan on the back idled in the water. It had a flat metal bottom and two seats up on stilts. There was also a seat for the driver, closer to the fan and up a bit higher.
Jim Bob pointed to the boat. “There she is, the Swamp Monster. My baby.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said. It wasn’t, not really. But he was so proud that I had to say it. And it was certainly interesting.
“Built it myself.” He climbed out of the car and we followed. Jim Bob handed the keys to Roarke. “Head northeast and treat her good.”
Roarke nodded. “Will do.”
Jim Bob saluted and returned to his truck. The engine growled as he revved it, and he peeled off.
I looked at Roarke. “Ever driven one of these things?”
“No. But it can only carry three, and once we have Caden, we’re at our limit, so I’d better learn.”
“Yep.” I stepped onto the boat. It rocked a bit, but was mostly stable. I’d take what I could get. If I didn’t end up dunked in the swamp today, I’d consider it a win.
Roarke climbed on behind me and cranked the engine. The fan whirred to life, a loud roar that cut across the silent swamp. I climbed up into one of the seats, stripping off my jacket and laying it on the seat next to me.
Roarke took the captain’s chair, turning the boat to head down the river. On either side, tall fields of grass waved in the wind. It was easily taller than my head. As we roared past, birds set off flying across the sky.
I’d Googled the Everglades last night and learned that it was called the River of Grass—one massive, slow moving body of water that was a mix of waterways, grassy aquatic fields, and mangrove forest. The boat skidded on the water as Roarke got the hang of the fan propulsion, and we set off.
“Turn right when you can!” I shouted, using my dragon sense to find the exact location of the settlement.
A few moments later, another small river appeared between the waving grass, and Roarke turned into it. The back of the boat swung around too far, but we made it in.
For hours, we threaded our way through rivers and fields of grass as the sun beat down and gators slithered out of the way of our boat.
“Feel that?” I shouted when the prickly sense of a protection charm raked across my skin.
“Must be getting close.”
“Yeah.”
Eventually, we made it into the mangroves. It was a thick forest of spindly trees with roots that grew right down into the water. They grew overhead, cutting out some of the bright sunlight. The waterway was barely wider than our boat, and Roarke slowed our progress.
“Weird place,” Roarke said.
“Yeah.” No sooner had the word left my mouth than the Mangroves began to close in on us. They picked up their roots like legs and walked into the middle of the waterway, blocking our pro
gress. Weird magic shimmered on the air, feeling like bark against my skin and smelling…swampy.
It was the only way to describe it.
“Damn.” I couldn’t even see through them, they were so thick. “This is what Jim Bob was talking about.”
“Which means there’s probably no way around. Not if they protect the whole settlement.”
I reached out with my magic, trying to get a feel for the mangroves. “Do you think they’re alive?”
Roarke hesitated, clearly trying to get a feel for them the same way that I was. “As plants, yes. Like people, no.”
“Okay. I’m going to try something. Be ready to move forward.”
“Ready.”
I sucked in a deep breath and called on my telekinesis. I’d practiced a bit last night, bending a spoon like any old hack in a movie, but this was a hell of a lot bigger. However, I also had a hell of a lot more at stake.
As the cool breeze of the Telenec demon’s magic flowed over me, I envisioned the roots parting and allowing us through. Mentally, I moved them back the way they came.
Nothing happened.
The strain made my muscles tremble and sweat drip down my temples. My breath grew short as I pushed my magic toward the mangroves.
Finally, one shifted. It vibrated, then moved, picking up its roots and walking back to the edge of the waterway. One by one, the trees moved.
It took a lifetime. If something had been chasing us, we’d have been dead. Fortunately, it was just us, so my slow magic was fine.
The engine growled to life, and the whir of the fan blades broke through the silence. Roarke directed the boat through the mangroves as I continued to force them back, making a path for us.
By the time we reached the other side, I was sweating like mad and about to collapse.
“Good work,” Roarke called over the sound of the fan blades.
“Thanks!” I gasped, trying to get ahold of myself.
The boat had motored into a large, open body of water. On one side, the fields of grass waved. On the other, massive trees hanging with moss dotted a patch of land.
