“What if I did accidentally steal the godly gift or whatever?” I asked in a small voice, wrapping my legs around him as he lowered me to the bed. “I mean, I don’t mind gifting it away if it’s going to cause a problem, assuming someone can tell me how to do that, but won’t the gods be pissed?”
He pulled one of my knees higher on his hip before settling low. His next movement pushed away all of my thoughts and worries, stilling me in the moment.
“We’ll figure it out, Penny,” he said, confident and sure. When he wanted to, he could handle anything, I was sure of it. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I relished in the feeling of him, winding me higher until I arched and panted his name. But the escape would be short-lived, and I knew it. Tomorrow, we would meet a couple of huge powers in the supernatural world, and soon thereafter, we’d declare war on the Mages’ Guild and their secret vampire allies.
The time for learning my craft was over. Now it was time to use it.
6
“What’s up, Godly One?” Reagan said the next day with a smirk. She had on a new pair of leather pants without one scuff, ending in heavy black boots that had been used to kick in more than one person’s teeth. A fanny pack encircled her waist, filled with empty casings that she pretended contained spells so as to hide her magic. On top of it all, she wore a lovely green silk blouse that looked absolutely ridiculous with everything else, especially since she’d lost her hair and eyebrows to my spell last night. She was an odd specimen, but she couldn’t care less.
“Not appropriate,” I said through mostly closed lips, looking around to make sure no one was within earshot. I adjusted my tailored suit jacket for the hundredth time and smoothed my black slacks down my trembling legs. Marie still bought my clothes for me, and she had such great fashion sense that I didn’t protest.
We’d walked into the beautifully renovated stone building like we belonged there, and now we were leaning against the wall, watching as human office workers in suits or business casual attire strolled by on their way home or elsewhere. We had time to scope it out while we waited for Emery and the vampire crew to park the car.
“You stole from a god.” She snickered. “And I thought I had a dim future.”
“You’ll have no future if you—” I pressed my lips together. Smack talk wasn’t my thing. I couldn’t sell it. Especially not to Reagan, who would take those words as a green light to beat me over the head with her shoe, or whatever else she had handy. “Does Darius own this building?”
Reagan’s brow furrowed as she looked around the leafy plant next to her. On my side there was an entrance to a small cafe, still open to catch those needing a boost before they started their commute home. Beyond it, a large man stood at a larger desk, watching everyone with acute focus.
“No,” she said. “He hasn’t said who does, but I can feel when he owns something, and not just because of his owner’s pride. He knows the person who owns it, though. He was checking everything out with serious interest.”
“He didn’t say who?”
“No. Which means I won’t like whoever it is. I have a few ideas.”
Their relationship was exhausting, but there was no denying they were made for each other. Nobody else would have them.
“Too bad, though,” she said softly, looking around the spacious lobby. “This is a cool building in a freaking awesome city. That old stone face on the outside was fantastic. And the huge wall around here, with the cannons? It’s my kind of city. I’d love to spend more time here.”
I completely agreed. Located in Northern Ireland, which was actually part of the United Kingdom and not the Republic of Ireland, Derry was famously surrounded by a giant wall, two people high and over ten feet across. Cars entering the city had to go through old gates, some of the openings so small that people entering and leaving had to take turns going through. Back in the days when the walls were used to keep attacking enemies at bay, the city had never been breached.
“Roger brought someone,” she said, eyeing the front doors. Roger was the Alpha of the North American shifter pack, which oversaw all the other packs in that territory. I knew that he and Reagan had suffered some…differences of opinion in the past, but I’d never actually met him before. “I didn’t get a name, but Darius accidentally dropped a few hints. I think it’s the Alpha of the European pack. An American who’s as hated as he is feared. He couldn’t rip away Roger’s mantle, but he was able to kill the European Alpha and assume his position with brute force.” Reagan shook her head slowly. “If only it wouldn’t make me enemy number one to kill him…”
“Why wouldn’t Darius just tell you who’s going to be here? And why would shifters stand for someone like that taking power?” I fluffed my hair, wondering how long it actually took to park a car. And how many people needed to be a part of it.
“A real Alpha is a leader. Someone you would trust with your life. Someone you might fear, yes, but someone who holds your loyalty through respect. Don’t tell him I said this, but Roger is a true Alpha. He’s strong, smart, and sure. His people are in good hands. But sometimes a shifter is so strong that he gets to be Alpha because of brute force. He leads through fear alone. He doesn’t garner loyalty—he cages people in by threat of death. Or, sometimes, by threatening loved ones. I have no proof, but this other guy seems like that type. And why doesn’t Darius fill me in? Because he knows what it’ll do to my aggression. I’ll walk in, see the ass in question, and cause a problem. That’s not what we need right now. We need subtlety and manipulation. This is his game. I’m just a player.”
“But why would we want to work with that kind of Alpha?”
“Because we need shifter help, and if there is one thing this guy excels at, it is killing. He’s a blunt instrument, and Darius is a pro at using any instrument, blunt or otherwise.”
I blew out a breath, shifting my weight from side to side. Darius might be a problem down the road, but boy was I happy that he was on our side now.
Reagan glanced up at the organized mass of magic hovering above me, something that always happened when I was in pressurized situations. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel its presence. “Does your magic feel any different today?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Nothing different about the power or anything?”
“Nope. I did some magic with Emery, and he didn’t feel a difference.”
“I heard.” She waggled her bald eyebrows at me.
“Ew. Something is wrong with you.”
“Yes.” She stared down a passerby who’d made the mistake of looking at her fanny pack. The lady started when she realized a crazy person was giving her the stink-eye. “It doesn’t make sense that the goblin turned to stone, yet you don’t seem any different.”
“I null your magic. That’s different.”
“Yeah, but…I would expect something else. That goblin shifted and nulled my magic. We’re missing something.”
“The magic probably reduced in strength when it transferred. Or maybe it didn’t transfer at all and I finally figured out how to null your magic. Actually, that last possibility sounds more plausible. It’s like I can finally feel my way through your magic, and kind of do a counter-spell.”
Reagan nodded slowly, eyeballing someone else. “Take a picture while you’re at it.” The man ripped his gaze away from her bald head. “It could be that you figured it out. I knew you were bound to. Seriously, what is up with these people? Their staring is riling me up.”
“Being around people riles you up.”
“Yes, but staring people rile me up more. They aren’t staring at you.”
“I don’t look…eccentric.”
Reagan turned to me with a hairless frown before looking down at herself. “What? I’m business casual.”
I just shook my head. Clearly she didn’t see the difference between bounty hunter business casual and office business casual. But Darius hadn’t commented one way or another, so what did I know?
“Here we go,” Reagan said, and I followed her gaze.
Darius and Emery strolled through the foyer of the building like two GQ models heading for the runway. Darius moved like a lethal dancer, his over-the-top handsomeness and elegant grace drawing eyes from across the foyer. Those eyes then moved on to Emery, topping Darius’s height by two inches and swinging a broader set of shoulders. His gait was powerfully confident and his bearing screamed rough and tumble. Both were decked out in tailored suits that fit them like gloves, shiny watches, and hair styled and gelled just so. Moss and Marie strutted along behind, dressed to impress and owning their apparel.
“I look as good as they do, right?” I asked, straightening my jacket again and smoothing my pants.
“If you would stop slouching, fidgeting, and looking around like you are about to be attacked, yes, you would look as good as they do.”
“So…no, then.”
“No. Not on your life, no. You look like an out-of-place nerd in an uncomfortable suit.”