by Sarah Piper
“The original resurrection magic was mine—that’s why I was able to stop them with another spell that night. But the delivery…” She wrapped her hands tighter around the mug, a chill racing across her skin that had nothing to do with the vampire. “Renault had another witch working on injectables—something that couldn’t be stripped off in a fight.”
“Working on?”
“The night of the Bloodbath massacre, Renault sent me there to meet with her—wanted me to drop off some more magical supplies for the spell. But then you guys attacked and I never got the chance. Renault disappeared, the other witches were questioned and released… As far as I knew, they never finished the formula. But—”
“But the grays at the hospital disproved your theory.”
Jaci nodded and took another sip of tea, grateful for its warmth. “Then this demon starts hanging around at the bar, one of Chernikov’s old minions. He’s not dumb enough to criticize you outright, but I got the sense right away he wasn’t too happy about the new alliance. So naturally, I drop a few hints about what a terrible boss you are—”
“Excuse me?”
“—all to get in his good graces, mind you.”
Gabriel scoffed. Jaci took great pleasure in it.
“So this demon and I start to get chummy—”
“Chummy?”
“—and one night, he lets it slip that in his opinion, Renault is still a major player. That he heard the vampire’s sitting on something big, waiting for the right time. A few more drinks, a few more flirty smiles and innuendos, and he tells me Renault has some new magical friends.”
“Witches?” Gabriel asked.
Jaci shook her head. “Mages. A group calling themselves the Keepers of the Dark Flame, claiming to have direct access to immense demonic powers that make the work I was doing look like a dip in the magical kiddie pool.”
“Keepers of the Dark Flame? Have you ever heard of them?”
“No, and frankly, the whole ‘direct access’ thing sounds like bullshit to me. Even for those of us who practice the dark arts, it’s not a simple matter of texting your buddies in hell and ordering up a hit. But it is the kind of thing that sounds scary as fuck and gives power-hungry guys like Renault a hard-on.”
“So you believe he’s bought into this scheme?”
“Absolutely. The demon said these mages were working on advanced resurrection magic not just for the grays, but for other supernaturals too. Shifters, namely.”
“Bloody hell.” Gabriel rose from the table, pacing the living room and undoubtedly picturing the same thing as Jaci—feral, undead wolves, panthers, and bears, all of them running wild through the streets of New York at Renault’s command. “If Duchanes is working on this, something tells me he’s not far. He wouldn’t leave an operation like this to chance.”
“I agree.”
“So how do we find these mages?”
Abandoning her tea, Jaci joined him at the doors that led out to the balcony. The moon was low in the sky, casting them both in calming silver-blue light. “I tricked him into telling me where their little club likes to meet.”
He turned toward her, that muscle ticking in his jaw again.
Damn, he’s sexy…
“Do I even want to know how you did that?” he asked. The sharp edge had returned to his voice, but his eyes held a spark of mischief, a keen appreciation for scheming she knew they shared.
“It wasn’t easy. As much as I tried to paint the picture of my complete dissatisfaction with my current predicament, the demon knows I’m Redthorne property, so—”
“Not Redthorne property. My property.” His eyes blazed bright in the moonlight. “There’s no sharing involved.”
Jaci swallowed hard. Good to know…
“Either way, I knew I couldn’t offer myself up as bait. No demon would risk double-crossing you. Not after what happened to Kostya and Mikhail.”
Gabriel’s eyes turned cold again, his body tensing, fists clenched at his sides. “Only the dimmest bulb in the hellspawn bunch would—”
“I know.” She placed a hand against his chest, fingertips brushing the bare skin exposed by the half-open shirt. Beneath her palm, his heart thudded, hard and fast. “I told him I had a friend looking for work. Not the kind requiring an apron and a nose for wine.”
“Dark magic,” Gabriel confirmed, and she nodded.
“They meet every other Saturday at Shimmer. It’s an exclusive witch and mage club out on Montauk. Ocean view, killer food and drinks, ritual rooms, the whole nine.”
“You’ve been?”
Jaci almost laughed. “Sure, Prince. I turn down invitations to fancy parties and exclusive clubs on the regular.”
Her father had been there, though. Back before he fell for her mother’s demonic tricks and landed in hell. He worked there as a young mage, a private server for the ritual rooms. Later, when he grew more fully into his own power, he was a member. He’d told Jaci about it so many times, she almost felt like she had been there.
“Excellent work, Jacinda.” Gabriel reached for his phone. “I’ll get my best guys on it, and—”
She grabbed his arm, stopping him from hitting the call button. “No. No guys.”
“But—”
“My so-called friend is a witch. A woman. Assuming the demon is as slippery and loose-lipped as I imagine, he’ll leak word to someone, and eventually, it’ll get back to Renault and these so-called Keepers of the Dark Flame that a witch is going to show up and crash their party, looking for work. It has to be me.”
“But the demon knows what you look like. Knows you’re my—”
“That’s what glamor magic is for, my sweet prince.”
“Let me guess. Another of your specialties?”
“A girl has to be prepared for anything.”
“Something tells me you always are.”
“Remember that, Prince.” Jaci grinned.
After a long pause, Gabriel finally sighed and slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Fine. But you’re not going in alone.”
“Oh, really? You’ve got some magical friends up your sleeve? You think Isabelle is up for some nefarious spy games? Of course, she reports to your brother, and I’m not sure Dorian would be on board with this, so…”
Gabriel continued to glare at her, those eyes flashing with mischief once more.
And then it arrived, slow but sure—the infamous smirk.
“Wait… you?” Jaci laughed. “A brooding vampire sneaking into a mage club? A royal vampire, besides? Are you insane? Everyone will recognize you and our cover will be blown to bits.”
“That, my sweet witch,” he whispered, the look in his eyes so devastating it made her want to peel off every stupid layer of clothing and fling herself repeatedly in the direction of his dick, “is what glamour magic is for.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs, but it wasn’t just his overwhelmingly sexy presence that made her so jittery. This was a crazy plan—one that could very well get them both killed, and a whole lot of other people hurt in the process.
And that wasn’t the only thing.
There, pulsing beneath the wild beat of her heart, was another truth. Inconvenient, but no longer so easy to ignore.
Despite everything he’d done to her—the kidnapping, the forced labor, the moodiness… Despite everything she’d planned to do to him—the machinations, the lies, the stolen heart…
Maybe Jaci wasn’t in such a hurry to see Gabriel eviscerated after all.
“I’m not letting you walk in there unprotected, Jacinda,” he said firmly. “We’re either going together or not at all.”
After a long, heavy sigh, she finally thrust her hand between them, holding his dark gaze. “Partners?”
He glanced down at her hand, eyebrows lifting in surprise, and Jaci waited for the sneer. The indignant huff. The reminder that his highness Gabriel Redthorne had associates and servants and a wide array of bootlicking, butt-kissing minions at his beck and call, b
ut not partners.
Especially not ones like her.
But then another crooked grin slid across his lips, obliterating the last of her monumental efforts to hate him, and her vampire captor squeezed her hand, whispering the word into her ear like a promise. “Partners.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The red silk dress slid over Jaci’s curves like water, setting off her blue eyes and silvery hair in a way her usual black garments did not. Standing in front of her bathroom mirror, she applied a final coat of mascara, then took a step back, admiring her efforts.
Bubbles fizzed through her stomach—partly because of the danger she was about to throw herself into.
But the rest of those damn bubbles were all for Gabriel. The other night, after they sketched out the plan for Shimmer, he’d walked out of her apartment with no more than a whispered goodnight, leaving her pent up once again, tossing and turning and dreaming about his wicked mouth. They continued to orbit each other at Obsidian, exchanging pleasantries and talk of liquor orders and music selections. But he didn’t visit her apartment again. Didn’t scold her for walking to work without an escort. Didn’t linger as she flirted with her demon contact, feeding him lies about her so-called friend getting excited for Saturday’s meeting at Shimmer.
But always, Jaci felt his eyes on her. Watching. Assessing.
Satisfied she looked as hot as she was going to get, she stuffed the makeup into her purse, along with her Tarot cards, phone, and a few other essentials, and headed out to the living area.
She heard him approach. Saw him through the peephole, dashing in his black suit, sky blue shirt, no tie. His dark hair was stylishly messy, and she curled her hands into fists, resisting the urge to whip open the door and run her hands through it.
He stood just outside the threshold. Checked his phone. Smoothed his jacked. And then, for the first time in the history of their odd arrangement, he actually rang the bell.
Jaci gasped. Again the bubbles rose inside her, heating her cheeks.
But when she finally opened the door to greet him, all those fizzy little bubbles popped.
Gabriel didn’t say a word as his eyes traveled down the length of her body, then back up, so slowly she thought she might pass out from the torture of it. When he finally met her eyes again, his gaze was completely inscrutable. The only sign that he’d even formed any opinion at all was that telltale tick of his jaw muscle and a deep, heavy sigh that could only mean one thing.
Disappointment.
“Is this… not all right?” Fire spread from Jaci’s cheeks down to her chest, and she ran her hands over the front of her dress, fidgeting. Was it wrinkled? Was it her hair? Had she gone too heavy on the makeup? Too light?
And why the fuck did she suddenly care so much what Prince High Horse thought of her outfit?
“Listen, Prince,” she snapped. “It’s not like I had a lot of time to throw something together. I just—”
“Jacinda.” He stepped into her apartment, sucking up all the air in the room. He placed a hand on her lower back and leaned in close, lips brushing her cheek, his whispered words unleashing a new flurry of bubbles. “You look… bloody hell.”
When he finally pulled back, he stared at her again, his gaze dark.
He swallowed hard. “I thought we were waiting on the glamour magic until we got closer? So it would last longer?”
“We are. What do you mean?”
“Nothing. I just… it’s…” He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he finally looked at her again, his crooked smirk was back in place, cool and confident once again. “Right, then. Shall we?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Why the Moon?” Gabriel asked.
After the nearly endless two-hour drive, they’d parked Gabriel’s BMW in a nondescript public garage about a block away from the club, hidden in the shadows on the bottom floor.
The Moon card sat on the center console between them, a spectral vampire woman in a white lace dress and veil, clutching a bloody scythe. A full moon hovered behind her, massive and luminescent, casting its light on the ruins of an ancient cemetery.
“The Moon is often associated with illusion and deception,” Jaci said, “which makes it the perfect conduit for glamour magic.”
“I’m beginning to think Aiden was right about you.” Gabriel laughed, soft and intimate in the small space of the car. “You are a bit spooky.”
“More than you know. Now hold still, and don’t say a word.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Only if you don’t shut your sexy mouth.”
Gabriel bit back another smile, and Jaci got to work, envisioning new appearances for them both, drawing on the energy of the Moon card to bring the illusion to life.
Taking Gabriel’s hands in hers, she chanted her spell.
By the magic of her light
The moon shall make our shadows bright
When daylight fades and darkness gleams
Nothing now is what it seems
Silver mist filled the car, enveloping them both in its cool touch. Gabriel’s eyes widened in surprise, but true to his word, he didn’t speak. Just sat in stunned silence as the mist caressed his skin, slowly transforming him from the sexy vampire she knew to a slightly more understated, slightly more blond man who could easily pass as a mage. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were a soft brown, no trace of the green left.
The mist tingled across Jaci’s skin, turning her silver hair dark, her blue eyes hazel, adding new wrinkles around her mouth. When she’d conjured the image in her mind, she’d hoped adding a few years to her face would make her look a little more experienced, a little more wise.
A little less naive.
She wasn’t, of course, but that didn’t matter. Glamour magic was all about the illusion, and this one was damned convincing.
If not for the familiar glimmer of mischief in Gabriel’s brown eyes, she might not have recognized him at all. And judging from the way his jaw hit the floor when the mist finally retreated and revealed her new form, he didn’t recognize her either.
Transformation complete, Jaci shoved her purse beneath the passenger seat, taking only the essentials with her—a tube of lipstick and a Tarot card, the Lord of Scepters. It was a fiery image, a horned king brandishing a flaming scepter, his fire-breathing stallion carrying him through a storm of blood and lightning.
Her demon friend had told her the Keepers of the Dark Flame used it as a sort of calling card. She hoped he was right. The fact that he badly wanted to fuck her—and hadn’t yet—was the only reason she was trusting his word.
Never underestimate the power of a desperate dick on a feeble mind…
The moon had already risen as Jaci and her “mage” companion walked the short distance to the club, its bright face winking at them over the ocean. The plan was fairly straightforward—while Gabriel waited at the bar in case of trouble, Jaci would charm her way into the meeting, sniff out clues about Renault’s whereabouts, and slip away long before the mages suspected a thing.
“Remember, little moonflower,” Gabriel said now, stopping just outside the doors. He leaned in close, the low vibration of his murmured warning sending tingles across her scalp. “You can work your mysterious ways on these mages all you’d like, but at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me.”
“Still with the possessiveness, Prince?” Jaci laughed, doing her best to hide his effect on her. “Maybe you should get a cattle prod and brand my tits with your initials—Property of GR. Oh, but wait. You should do them backward, so when I look in the mirror I don’t get it mixed up and go home with the wrong dickhead. Reginald Green, perhaps? Renato Goldsmith?”
Gabriel shot her a warning glare, but that mischief still sparkled in his now-brown eyes. “Save the fireworks for the show, witch.”
“And you, Prince… Lose the accent. Anything that can peg you as a Redthorne gets left at the door.”
“Perhaps I won’t speak at all.”
> Jaci grinned and opened the door, the opulent white light of the club washing over them both. “Even better.”
“Welcome to Shimmer, friends.” The bartender set two cocktail napkins on the bar, giving the newcomers a quick assessment. Suspicion flickered in his gaze.
Jaci forced her nerves to settle. She had every confidence in her glamour magic. The guy was just doing his job, checking out the unfamiliar faces, trying to decide whether they were friends or foe.
Nothing to worry about.
“What can I get for you?” His eyes were on Gabriel, the barest hint of a challenge in his tone.
Gabriel didn’t say a word.
“Not much of a talker, huh?” the bartender said.
“Go easy on my brother,” Jaci said with a smile. “Small words, no fast movements.” She leaned across the bar and tapped her temple, dropping her voice to a whisper she knew damn well Gabriel could still hear. “Too many hallucination potions in his formative years. Cooked up his brains like scrambled eggs.”
“I see.” The bartender laughed, his suspicious gaze warming a bit.
Next to her, Gabriel seethed, but didn’t deny the charge. That would require speaking, and he was too damned stubborn to cave in now.
She ordered him a vodka tonic, just to piss him off, then flashed another smile at the bartender.
“Reggie here is good with the VT, but I’m actually looking for some friends?” She retrieved the Lord of Scepters card from the front of her dress where she’d strategically stashed it. It was still warm from her body, and when the bartender took it between his fingers, his breath hitched.
A low growl rumbled in Gabriel’s chest, but he sipped his drink as if he weren’t paying them any attention.
The bartender handed the card back to her, then pointed toward the vast ocean-view windows stretching out behind them. “Follow the windows to the end. The third door on your left—that’s where you’ll find your friends.”
“Thank you.” She tucked the card back into her dress, winked at the bartender, then turned back to Gabriel. He circled her wrist with his fingers, his thumb brushing her skin.
