Moment of Truth Page 9

  “We have no idea what’s down there,” Midas rumbled. “Less might be more in this case.”

  “Lighter packs make for faster sprinting.” Remy agreed. “We shouldn’t be gone longer than a day.”

  “A day?” I flung out an arm to steady myself against Midas. “A whole day?”

  “Chill,” Remy soothed. “That much time won’t pass out here.”

  For all our sakes, I hoped she was right. The odds were fifty/fifty, to my way of thinking, for or against us.

  “There are other exits,” Reece reminded us. “Worst-case scenario, get out wherever and however you can.”

  The other tethers. Right. We would have to snip those too. The last one could still be an emergency exit.

  “You can always resupply and reenter if you must,” Anca agreed. “Your safety is our priority.”

  As much as it warmed me to hear her say so, I had to disagree. I was the least important variable here.

  As we finalized our plans, I found my attention sliding to the closet. “Remy?”

  No answer.

  Surely Anca would have sent Remy off with a map or a compass if the room was a jungle.

  “Remy?” I crossed the room and reached for the knob. “Did you get lost in there?”

  The door swung open before I could do the honors, and she barreled past me. “Get moving, slowpoke.”

  Keys in her hand, Remy bounded out of HQ, and we followed her downstairs into a parking deck.

  “I’m one block over at Peachtree Parking Deck. Since I don’t rate access to the Faraday’s private lot, I figured I might as well invest in a monthly pass near home.” She jingled as she walked, the contents of the packs jostling against her back. “We just need to be careful…”

  The stink hit Midas first, and he coughed from the reek, but it caught up to me soon enough.

  “Phew.” I tugged the collar of my shirt up over my nose. “Did a sewer line break, or what?”

  “You can’t feel it?” Remy turned a slow circle. “I bet your shadow senses it.”

  True to her prediction, Ambrose had decided to make his presence known, and he was jittery from the ambient energy in the air. It trickled over into me like a hit of caffeine and strung me out right there with him.

  “Black magic.” I recognized the flavor, for lack of a better word. “Lots of it.”

  Guilt tightened my throat, and I felt like a coward even though I was running toward danger and not away from it. I hadn’t bonded to Atlanta in the magical sense, not as her potentate, but I had come to love her during my apprenticeship, and it tore me up to leave while she was in danger.

  Midas vibrated with tension by the time we reached the parking garage, his inner beast growling steadily.

  “Third level.” Remy pointed up the ramp. “First one there gets to ride shotgun.”

  Midas and I exchanged a look, but neither of us sprinted after her, and we both smiled at the same time.

  Remy scowled as if we had wounded her by not wanting the copilot’s seat, but come on. If you’ve ever watched a movie or TV show set in space where the ship engages its warp engines or hyperdrive or whatever, and the stars streak past the viewscreen in solid lines, you can imagine the view when Remy drives through downtown at night.

  The fleeting moment of levity passed, and we jogged to catch up to Remy at her lime-green car.

  Insulted, she shoved us both into the backseat and let the backpacks take shotgun.

  Neither of us complained.

  Even as she cranked her radio up through the roof to punish us.

  After touching base with Bishop, I yelled at Midas over the noise, “Have you updated your mom?”

  “Doing it now.” His thumbs flew over the screen. “Any news from Bishop?”

  His temporary relocation to the Faraday from HQ was messing with my head, and my heart.

  As much as the enforcers needed his help, I hoped he hadn’t decided to retreat there to avoid me.

  “He says the numbers on the roof have leveled off, but now there’s movement on the ground.”

  The news didn’t appear to surprise Midas, so I assumed his people were telling him the same.

  “The enforcers on patrol are reporting unusual crowds in downtown.”

  When a native Atlantan labels a crowd as unusual, it’s saying something. Crowds are commonplace, what with the tourist attractions. Folks who endure Dragon Con each year don’t bat an eye at gatherings numbering in the thousands when the con can bring in upwards of eighty-five thousand people in full costume who spend five days living their best geek lives within a few blocks of one another.

  “So far, the coven is showing no signs of aggression.” He lowered his phone. “Mom’s going to call you.”

  A breath hitched in my chest at his serious tone. “All right.”

  The background noise quieted, and I could hear myself think again.

  Midas stared at his hand, and I couldn’t guess at the thoughts moving behind his eyes.

  When my cell vibrated, I hesitated to answer it, but I had no real choice. “Hi.”

  “This is Alpha Tisdale Kinase,” she said formally. “I’m requesting a moment of your time.”

  Official OPA business then.

  Double gulp.

  “I can spare a minute.” I stared out the window until the motion flipped my gut. “What do you need?”

  “I would like to request your permission to deploy more enforcers throughout the city.”

  A heavy pack presence could do as much harm as good if the citizens got it in their heads the pack had the ability to enforce martial law in a city overseen by a potentate, even if I wasn’t it. Yet. This was a line I had been inching toward for a while now, and as much as I hated to turn down help, I couldn’t step over it.

  The ghost tour gig had taught me how to handle people. Time to put those years of soothing irate customers who got pissed when no ghosts showed up on their tours to work. Not that Tisdale was mad. But she did want what I couldn’t give her. Turning on my professional guide voice, I dusted off my rusty bargaining skills.

  “I regret to decline your generous offer, but I will grant you two dozen enforcers within the city limits.” If I didn’t specify those were in addition to the enforcers who lived downtown, or the ones already on duty, I could be forgiven the oversight. “However, you must inform your people that I will also allow representatives from the Clairmont pack, the Loup Garous, and the Kingsman lion pack to assist me.”

  There were several vampire clans in the area I could also petition, but they tended not to get involved in outside squabbles. The average vampire feared true death too much to risk so much as a hangnail in life.

  Undead life, but whatever.

  “I’ll let my people know.” I heard the smile in her voice. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Whitaker.”

  Within seconds of ending the call, she texted me a row of hearts and the simple words I’m proud of you.

  Warmth unspooled through my chest, and I cradled the emotion growing there gently, afraid I might crush it before it fully bloomed.

  So, this is how it feels to have a mom who loves you.

  It was weird. Nice. Really weird. But…yeah…nice.

  Remy met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Have you got any of that lined up, Miss Potentate, ma’am?”

  “Nope.” I almost dropped the phone my palms were so slick. “I’m about to start making calls.”

  “Woohoo.” She punched the gas. “Time to wheel and deal.”

  “Kill the radio.” I swallowed a few times to hold down those bowls of cereal I was starting to regret. “We don’t need these alphas to know we’re sending our distress signal on the run.”

  Midas rested his palm on my thigh, and tingles spread from that contact. “You got this.”

  With the Kinase family stamp of approval, how could I go wrong?

  Nine

  Midas was aware that, as the future Potentate of Atlanta, Hadley had signed on the dotted line to thro
w herself headlong into danger. But oh how he wished she didn’t have such excellent aim.

  Midas loved Atlanta. It was home. His family was here. His friends were here. His roots were here.

  But he would be lying if he claimed it hadn’t occurred to him that he could strike out like his sister, Lethe, and expand the Kinase pack network by establishing his own in a quiet city far from here.

  Maybe on an island. In the Pacific. Guarded by sharks. With laser beams attached to their heads.

  As far as dreams go, it had potential, but reality burst his bubble if he thought too hard about logistics.

  He could never rob his mother of her heir, not after she lost Lethe, and he would rip out his own heart before he made Hadley sacrifice hers by choosing between him and her duty.

  “Okay.” Hadley tossed her phone onto the seat between them, slumping as it left her hand. “We’ve got pack and pride backup en route.”

  No one else could have made those asks and had them answered with a yes. “Any other calls to make?”

  “The OPA is on standby, Linus is watching the show via his direct feeds, Tisdale is moving her people into position. The Clairmont, Loup Garou, and Kingsman alphas know to coordinate with Bishop.” She raked her fingers through her hair, and curls fell into her eyes. “What am I forgetting?”

  Midas tapped her cell with his fingertip. “Are you telling Addie and Boaz?”

  Their names shut down her expression, and her eyes darkened with determination. “No.”

  As much as he hated picking at old wounds, he had to keep this one from festering.

  “You don’t think,” he began, “they deserve to know what you’re risking by going into the archive?”

  “The less they know, the safer they are.” She flinched when he struck the nerve, but she set her jaw. “I’m not involving them again.”

  “You didn’t involve them last time.” He took her clammy hand in his. “The coven did.”

  “Let’s think of it as an exercise in confidence.” She scooched closer and rested her head against his shoulder, the scent of her engulfing him. “I’m so sure we’re going to win the day, I don’t need to inform my next of kin.” Her arm threaded through his, linking them, and his inner beast relished the contact. “Oh, that reminds me. I have a playdate with Macon next week.”

  The announcement sideswiped him, as she had known it would, and he began to understand why she had wrapped herself around him. She didn’t want to give him an avenue of escape, not that he had anywhere to go while they were in the back of Remy’s car.

  “This is not a trap.” She laughed at what she saw in his expression. “Boaz called me crowing like a rooster the second the guardianship paperwork for our little brother hit his palms.”

  Erring on the side of caution, Midas kept his mouth shut while he waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “He explained to me about Mother’s change of heart and her sudden desire to relocate. He was fuzzy on the details of how this transformation occurred, what sparked this burst of personal growth, and he thought I could enlighten him. Funny thing was, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I could guess where my mother got the idea our lives would all be improved without her in them.”

  Anyone who had ever met Matron Pritchard would agree her daughter’s life was better without her in it. The same could be said, to a lesser extent, of her sons. Midas only cared that Hadley was rid of her. For good.

  “Your mom.” A soft smile, bordering on hopeful, warmed her face. “She handled it, didn’t she?”

  Finally, a question he felt comfortable answering. “Yes.”

  “You’re not asking any questions,” she said, amusement in her tone, “so you knew.”

  There was nothing for it but to tell her the truth. He refused to lie to his mate, even to save his own hide. “I did.”

  “You didn’t tell me.” A line bisected her forehead. “Why not?”

  “I wasn’t involved in the arrangements. I found out after the fact. That’s no excuse, but it put me in a tight spot.” He should have told her the second he learned of it, the night she agreed to marry him, but he had wanted to keep her all to himself. “I didn’t want to give you hope if it fell through. I know how much you miss Macon, and I wasn’t sure the threats Mom made would stick after Matron Pritchard got clear of Atlanta.”

  The wrinkle smoothed itself out, and her hold on him relaxed by degrees. “I figured.”

  Daring to hope, Midas watched her face when he asked, “You’re not mad?”

  “Right now, I’m too happy at the prospect of seeing my little brother again to care how it happened or what the repercussions might be down the line.” She made a contented sound. “This falls under the umbrella of things we should always make time to discuss going forward, but I’m willing to give you a one-time pass.”

  “Next time,” he said, relief heavy in his voice, “I promise I’ll tell you.”

  “I know you will.” She grinned up at him. “Or you’ll spend the next month sleeping on the couch.”

  “It is a comfortable couch.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed, “but I won’t be on it.”

  The southernly drift of her hand down his stomach clued him in to what else he would be missing out on if he made the same mistake twice.

  “The warehouse.” He caught her wrist, unable to think with her touching him that way, and moved her hand to safer territory. “How are you getting in?”

  “Ambrose and I smashed the wards before.” Pouting, she let him set her palm on his chest. “We could again.”

  “It would cost you time and put you out in the open,” he countered. “It would make you an easy target.”

  “So, it’s not ideal.”

  “To put it mildly.”

  She leaned forward and snagged a backpack from the pile in the front seat.

  “Hey.” Remy popped her hand. “That one’s mine.”

  “They’re all identical.”

  “This one and I have bonded during our brief time together.”

  “Okay then.”

  Hadley chose another and transferred the necromantic supplies from her cross-body bag into its front pocket.

  Once she finished, Midas nudged her, determined to make her stop and think. “Any other ideas?”

  “Wards degrade as powerful magic users cross their threshold, and that’s been happening for several hours minimum at the warehouse. Even if the practitioners were mid-level, lump enough of them together, and the power signature is the same.” She turned thoughtful. “The coven could raise and lower the wards each time, they have the numbers, but it would be exhausting on their schedule.”

  The light in her eyes tempted him to hope. “What are you thinking?”

  “The coven dropped the wards to let their people move freely between the archive, the warehouse, and their transportation to downtown. I’m willing to bet they kept them down. It’s the smart thing to do. It’s not like they need them. They have the manpower to protect the archive.” A smile spread across her face. “Heavy-duty wards like those aren’t exactly welcome mats. They’re meant for security when no one is home.”

  “Okay.” He waited a beat, but she fell silent. “When do you get to the good news?”

  “Um.” She squinched her eyes. “That was the good news. No wards. One less thing, right?”

  “Optimism.” From the driver seat, Remy chortled with glee. “I love it.”

  Availing himself to the expert sneak in their midst, he posed Remy a question. “How would you do it?”

  “Very carefully.” Remy sobered. “No wards aren’t the same as a free pass.”

  The somber twist of her mood made him curious if she was worried too. “Can you get in?”

  “I can get in.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know if I can get Hadley in, if that’s what you mean.”

  There was room for interpretation there, and he was curious. “Your infiltration skills are magic-based?”

  “Expe
rience-based.” She flashed her needle teeth at him in the rearview mirror. “I earned them.”

  As was the case with most fae or those with fae blood, himself included, he didn’t share his age often. Immortals and near immortals held different views on time, perspectives on life, on its immediacy.

  There was a weight to the air when Remy dropped her youthful guise and allowed her true self to surface that told him she far outstripped him. Humans could master a skill if they dedicated their lives to its pursuit, and fae were no different. Except the span of their existence encompassed infinite human lives’ spent perfecting what they did best.

  He heard no lies in her claim to have earned her skills, and he believed in her dedication to her craft.

  “I can be sneaky,” Hadley said, affronted. “I can be quiet.”

  Midas bit the side of his cheek and kept his mouth shut, amused when Remy did the same.

  “Okay, so I’m not fae-sneaky or fae-quiet.” She harrumphed. “I still got this.”

  “We don’t have much choice except for you to try,” Remy teased. “Guess we’ll see.”

  Guess we’ll see wasn’t exactly comforting to an alpha personality with a predator lurking under his skin, least of all where a covert mission and the safety of his mate was concerned.

  “Last chance to use the little girls’ or boys’ room.” Remy turned into a gas station. “We walk from here.”

  The OPA had briefed her on the warehouse’s location and given her a copy of its schematics to study. Based on her review, she had chosen a spot five miles away from the warehouse to park. The gas station didn’t offer much in the way of cover, but it ought to protect her ride until they were done.

  They climbed out, Remy and Hadley slid into their packs, and he carried the rest looped over a forearm.

  Ambrose kept a wary eye on the procession, more alert than Midas had ever seen him, and less interested in sniping easy meals too. The truce he had called with Hadley might be genuine, or it might be a long con, but either way, he appeared determined to play out the charade.

  He wasn’t too worried about Ambrose killing her, since the bindings would destroy him too, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt her. Especially when access to large reservoirs of power, like the archive, gave him the ability to manifest independent of her.