“Why are we going the route of old-school travel?”
Garnet turns in the shotgun seat and smiles. “The West Village Wizards have their entire community warded in a magical web of protection. If we try to transport into their territory, we might get thrown back out, or we might get inside the perimeter. From there, we’d have to walk for blocks. It’s safer to drive.”
“Cool. Good to know.”
“I don’t suppose ye’d share the neighborhoods and boundaries of the empowered ones in Toronto, would ye?” Da asks.
Garnet shifts his gaze to my father. “Why do you ask?”
He tilts his head, and I’m happy to see he’s not looking hostile or offensive. He has his cop “problem solving” face on. “I was thinkin’ the West Village has had several public disturbance calls, and there’s an uptick in misdemeanor complaints especially around Hallowe’en and the Sabbat holidays. It makes more sense now that I know there is a coven of wizards there.”
“What good would knowing the locations of the other sects and guild members do you?”
“From a policin’ standpoint, if I knew some of the key players and where they circulated, I might be able to shift the attention of beat cops and investigations that fall under yer jurisdiction back to the human issues and stop the waste of resources. I expect I wasted the past week in the back of a van surveillin’ a group the human police had no business tryin’ to take down. Am I right? Were Issac North and the men workin’ out of Ainslie Street Automotive your problem?”
He nods. “A rugaru nest that delves in gang behavior: guns, drugs, and girls. There was an incident this morning.”
Da nods. “My people were the ones sittin’ in a van in a parkin’ garage across the road for the past week. And my son spent five months undercover investigatin’ them, which indirectly got him killed. I’ll not let that be for nothin’.”
“Understood. Yes, I can certainly give you a bubble map of who’s where and what they’re into. Nothing specific, of course.”
“Still, it might give me an idea of what’s happenin’ on the preternatural scale of crime in the city.”
Huh, who would’ve thunk it? Da is initiating a cooperative goal with Garnet Grant. Go, Da. “So were the people who killed Brendan not human? Did he get caught up in something on Garnet’s side of the fence?”
Da frowns. “I’m still workin’ through that, mo chroi. Don’t worry. I won’t stop until everyone who contributed to yer brother’s death is off the streets.”
I sit back in my seat and stare out my window. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Why did I feel more at peace thinking Brendan simply stepped into a bad situation caused by a bad man? Does it matter if that man was part of the empowered community or if he was working with or for them?
I still have so many emotions twisted around Brendan’s death. It’ll take more than a few months to sort through them.
Sloan takes my hand and squeezes my fingers.
I squeeze back.
The truck pulls to a stop along the curb, and we prepare to get out. The West Village is a busy shopping district in the city. It encompasses a tight corridor of over four hundred restaurants, shops, and services along Bloor Street West from High Park to Jane Street. It’s also one of the city’s historic areas, much of it dating back to the nineteenth century.
“We’re across the road.” Garnet points at the brick building on the opposite side of the street.
“A funeral home. That’s comforting.” I look at Sloan and my father and shrug. “What? There’s no way I was the only one thinking that.”
“Not to worry, Lady Druid. This is a polite visit to test the waters and discuss plans and expectations.”
I chuckle. “Like, hey wizards. Whatever your plans are to release an evil demon of the Hell Realm, we expect you to stop doing it.”
Garnet nods. “Something like that. Perhaps let me do the talking. We’re going for subtle inference and a diplomatic meeting of the minds.”
“What? I can’t be diplomatic?” Sloan and Da both flash looks so hilarious I crack up. “Okay, fine. No Oscar de la Hoya impressions. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Garnet gestures for Anyx to get the door to the entrance. “Follow my lead.”
Da scowls. “We’ll do that. Show us how it’s done.”
* * *
The electronic door chime announces our arrival and brings a lanky skinhead in a silver suit out of the offices to greet us. “Grand Governor,” he says in a raspy voice I recognize. “My sentries said I could expect a visit from you, but I told them they must be mistaken. You’re far too courteous to arrive in my place of business unannounced and uninvited.”
Garnet lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I suppose it’s one of the privileges of being Grand Governor, Salem. I can go wherever the fuck I want whenever I want to.”
I bark a laugh, then cover my mouth and cover my gaffe with a cough. “Sorry. My bad. Spit went down the wrong pipe. Don’t mind me. I’m not even here.”
Garnet flashes me a look and holds out his hand. “Let’s start with introductions, shall we? Salem, you’ll remember Lady Cumhaill from the luncheon last week. This is her father, Niall Cumhaill, and their associate, Sloan Mackenzie. Everyone, this is Salem Markdale, High Priest of the Toronto Wizarding Council and Guild Governor of Wizards.”
As soon as Garnet places Salem at the luncheon, I connect the dots. “Oh, you’re my heckler. The one shouting snide remarks the whole time I was talking.”
Garnet leans forward. “What aspect of diplomacy escapes you? Should we have read the definition aloud before coming inside?”
I hold up my palms. “In my defense, I haven’t drawn blood. I didn’t even say he acted like a total douche-canoe at the meeting. I’m totes being nice.”
“I’d say ye must excuse my daughter, Mr. Markdale,” Da joins the convo, “but honestly, I taught her to speak her truth, so perhaps I’m to blame if her lack of delicacy offends. She also has an uncanny knack for sizin’ people up, so if she found yer behavior wantin’ at the luncheon, odds are, she has good reason.”
Aw, thanks, Da.
Garnet seems to agree but still holds himself to a level of formality he saves for Guild-y things. “Perhaps we’ll all be more comfortable if we come inside to talk.”
Salem raises a hand to stop the inflow of traffic and steps to block us. “Now is not a good time, I’m afraid. We have a private ceremony going on, and my clients deserve to mourn their loss in peace.”
My shield weighs in on that and I wriggle a little under the sudden discomfort. Bruin, it’s recon time, buddy. Something’s not right. Be careful though. We’re in the wizard’s den. I have no idea what they might be able to do to you.
On it. Don’t worry about me, Red. I live for danger.
I release my bear to go check things out and tap Sloan’s shoulder. “Would you mind scratching my back? It’s crazy itchy all of a sudden.”
Da and Sloan both clue in immediately. “It is, is it?” He scrubs his nails down my back. “Perhaps ye should take off yer jacket and hang it on the rack there.” He points at an open closet, and I follow his suggestion.
“There’s no need to get comfortable,” Salem protests. “If your back hurts, you should likely go have it checked out.”
“Oh, I’m checking it out.” I smile. “It’ll take a bear moment to investigate and figure out what’s going on.”
Garnet and Anyx are both fully caught up with that comment, and I feel better when the good guys are all on the same page. Garnet offers me a smile and turns back to our host. “While Miss Cumhaill sorts things out, perhaps we could address a few recent events I’ve found troubling. Like the allegations that you and some of your people pressured Myra D’anys for information about demon resurrection.”
Salem stiffens and slides his hand into his pocket. A moment later, the front entranceway of the funeral home floods with men in suits. “I think it’s time to leave, Governor. If someone filed a complaint
, I have twenty-four hours to counter the charge.”
It’s happening now, Red. There are a dozen men in robes in the basement, blood sacrifice made, sigils painted all over the place, and the book on the altar is open to a spell of resurrection.
“Oh, shit.”
Everyone turns to me. My mind is spinning, looking for a clever way to convey this. I give up. “They’re performing the ritual downstairs. Sacrifice made. Bad mojo brewing.”
The fight breaks out in a flurry and Bruin takes form at my side. My bear loves to beat the living snot out of people, and I love it when he’s happy.
I call my armor forward, and when Birga manifests in my hand, I choke up on the shaft to compensate for the close quarters. “Bestial Strength.” I raise my arms to block the crack of a bat to Birga’s staff. The vibration of the connection rattles my bones from hands to wrists to elbows.
My armor saves me from the pain of the blow, and I take advantage of the moment to bring my knee up as hard and fast as I can. As my attacker groans and curls forward, I grab the bat and toss it away.
“Always with a man’s knackers,” Sloan calls while in full swing of his hand-to-hand. “Yer obsessed.”
I ignore the jibe, pleased when Garnet’s men burst through the door to join us.
Salem is a slippery snake and slithers through the crowd. I give chase and Garnet is hot on my heels. I’m only seconds behind him as I round the corner and run down an empty hall.
I pull up fast, searching for any sign of where he went. “I lost him. How could I lose him?”
Garnet curses. “I have his scent. He should be here.”
I lean back to the other hall and shout, “Bruin, I need you to show me where.”
A moment later my bear barrels down the hall with a wizard hanging out both sides of his mouth. He looks like a happy dog running with a stick.
Follow me, Red.
He doesn’t stop when he gets to the end of the hall. He drops his head and plows through. The wallpapered drywall doesn’t stand a chance—it swings wide to grant him access.
This way.
I run full-throttle behind Bruin, and if we weren’t trying to stop these dickwads from unleashing minions of evil into my city, this might be fun.
For once, I’m on the offensive.
It’s new, and it’s way more entertaining.
By the time we arrive to break up the party, Salem has the book in his hand and prattles off some ancient tongue as fast as he can spew the words.
Bruin cuts a swath through the dozen men coming at me, but I’m not sure how we’ll ever get through the blockade in time.
Garnet roars behind me, and the vicious snarl scares the bejeezus outta me. I pat my chest and try to get reacquainted with oxygen. “Peed a little there. Not gonna lie.”
The shield on my back lights on fire and the fact that the exhumed tattoo of darkness on my thigh weighs in is troubling. Static has my hair rising into the air around my face, and the air over the altar starts crackling with magic.
“True Trajectory.” I raise Birga over my head and spear-chuck her into the air. She flies fast and true with the power of my Bestial Strength behind her.
Salem stands at the altar, his hands resting on the book before him, his eyes down, his lips moving. He doesn’t see the green of the Connemara marble until Birga’s spear-tip pierces his chest.
The force of the hit knocks him off his feet and pins him to the wall three feet behind him. The thud of him hitting the concrete block is gratifying. The look on his face is one of total shock. He’s locked in place with Birga’s tip buried in the wall.
Good girl.
Garnet roars, and I see why. The crackling air above the altar swirls and whistles with kinetic energy out of control. I back away from the lightning show, the shrill screech of whatever was starting to come through echoing its displeasure.
I’m on the opposite side of the room from the exit, and things are getting wild. I raise my arms to block my face while pushing forward, but the force of the magical fallout is too much to get through.
“Fiona, get down.”
I don’t argue with Da. Some commands in life you obey instinctually. When my father shouts at me in that tone of voice, it doesn’t even occur to me not to do exactly as he says.
The air isn’t quite as chaotic on the floor, but there’s still no way for me to get out of here. This place will implode or explode, or something equally bad and I have a front-row seat to Ground Zero.
“Ye need a lift?” Sloan poofs in beside me.
“My hero.” I throw my arms around him, and a second later, we’re upstairs with Da and Garnet.
“Thank the goddess,” Da gasps and pulls me away from Sloan to hug me.
“Her and Sloan Mackenzie.” I ease back. “Okay, next problem. How do we stop the Hell vortex from swallowing up our city?”
By the blank looks coming back at me, I’m not enthusiastic about the next five minutes of my life. They might be the last five minutes, but whatevs. Semantics.
“Is there someone we can get down here to help?” Da asks Garnet.
“Not that I can think of.”
“I have an idea.” I pull out my phone and call up my contacts.
“Who ye goin’ to call?” Sloan asks.
“Ghostbusters?” I ignore the looks. “Sorry, it’s the pressure, and it had to be said.” With the urgency of the situation, I get straight to texting.
Hey. You any good with patching the veil between our realm and Hell to keep demons from invading and our city from exploding? Just wondering.
Hypothetically or actually?
Actually.
Nikon appears in the huddle wearing a cosmic bedsheet with a kitten licking a slice of pizza. The length of colorful cotton is gripped tight at his hip, but other than that, the dude’s in the buff. “What the fuck, Fi? Can’t you get through a week without blowing up the city?”
I hold up my hands. “Totes not my fault. Is this a toga fail or did we catch you in a moment?”
“The second. And it was a very good moment, so what do you need?”
I point toward the basement. “I hoped you could deus ex machina us out of this little problem we’re having with the fabric of our realm in the basement.”
Nikon blinks. “I’m an immortal, not a god. Why can’t people get that straight?”
“Well, you have more juice than everyone else in the city. That’s why you get the head seat at the table.”
He frowns. With the wave of his hand, the sheet is gone, and he’s wearing a badass, red leather devil costume. “Fine. For you, Fi, I’ll see what I can do.”
“You rock, Greek. What’s with the tights and horns?”
He flashes me a grin. “If somebody slips through the rift, maybe I’ll look like the home team and not get fried.”
I raise my thumb. “Yeah, very convincing. Nailed it.”
Nikon snaps off, and Garnet shakes his head. “I’ve known Nikon Tsambikos for over forty years, and he’s never spoken more than ten words to me in all that time combined. How is it that he’s your beck and call boy in a week?”
“Ha! First, he’s not my call boy—I said no. Second, he’s nice. He’s bored with an unending life, and for some reason, he finds me not boring.”
Da side-arm hugs me and kisses my temple. “If there’s one thing in life yer not, mo chroi, it’s boring.”
Nikon snaps back, and he has a regular outfit on and the demon spellbook in his hand. “Mischief managed.”
“See, I knew you could stop the apocalypse.”
He snorts and hands me the book. “No god powers needed.”
“Then how?”
He holds up the book. “Can you read, Nikon? Why, yes I can, Fi.”
I scan the spell, and none of it is in English or legible. “What does it say?”
“You don’t read Enochian?”
I giggle. “I love how you say that with surprise in your voice and a straight face.”
“Okay, then, I’ll give you a pass. There’s a reversal clause at the bottom of the let’s open a rift to Hell spell. I followed the instructions, and our seams are sealed. Done deal. Now, can I get back to my evening?”
I bow. “You win the day, dude. As you were.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Sorry, Red. Ye need to wake up.”
My eyes pry open one at a time, and I wait for the fog to clear. It’s morning…the smell of bacon makes my tummy grumble…there’s male rough-housing downstairs. Bruin is sitting at the end of my bed and has his head flopped on the mattress. “Hey, buddy. What’s up? You just getting in? What do you need?”
“Yer hurtin’, Red. I don’t like it. Ye need to see to it.”
I sit up and wince as I swing my legs off the side of the bed. My thigh is throbbing, and yeah, I need to have Sloan look at it again. “It hurt last night after the battle with the wizards, but I was too tired to worry about it.”
The floor is cold on my bare feet, and I toe my favorite Costco slippers closer and slide my feet in. Standing up, I shuffle over to the mirror and shuck my flannel pajama pants down my—“Holy shitters. That is not good.”
The flesh that briefly hosted the Eochair Prana is gray and looks like it’s dying. When I prod it with my fingers, a layer flakes off as if my thigh is shale and not skin. “Really not good.”
I head over to my door, open it a crack, and stick my head out. “Sloan? Are you around?”
“He’s in the basement playing air-hockey with Emmet,” Da yells up. “Do ye need him?”
“Uh, yep. Can you send him up, please?”
“Will do. Are ye all right, Fi?”
“I think so. I need Sloan’s opinion on something.”
I’m staring at the mirror when the footsteps on the stairs tell me I’m getting more than the man I asked for. I roll my eyes, but it’s no surprise. There’s nothing in this house that isn’t everyone’s business.
“Knock-knock.” Sloan does a knock and walk. “Finally decided to join—oh, Jaysus-fuck, Fi.” He crosses the floor in two long strides and drops to his knees. “Why didn’t ye tell me it was givin’ ye trouble?”
A Family Oath Page 24
