Sam spent the night, me tucked against his warm, hard body with his scent filling my nose. As much as I’d thought about making love to him after the attack, it’d ended up being a night of reconnection. My wolf just needed to be near its mate and my body was exhausted, so we fell into bed and just passed out.

And come morning, we acted like a normal little family. As if I wasn’t the princess of Hell, Sam wasn’t a half-fallen angel, and Bry wasn’t talking in a weird language to his imaginary friend.

At the school, I walked him to the door, Bryony’s attention bouncing between me, waving good-bye to Sam, and the other kids racing around the front lawn. We stopped at the bottom of the low steps that led to his classroom and I crouched in front of him.

“Hey, Bry? Do Tempmomma a favor?” I pulled a small, spare notebook out of my jacket and handed it to him. “Midnight Lotus really wants you to practice your Brown-tongue in school. So if you want to write your new special words, write them in here for me. Then you can show them to me when you get home. How does that sound?”

“Okay, I guess,” he mumbled and stared at the notepad, fingers already outlining shapes on the cover even though he didn’t have a pencil.

“Thanks, buddy.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. When I leaned back, I just stared at him—the kid who’d been through so much in such little time. All of it my fault. Every heartache and every tear came from me and I… I ruffled Bry’s hair, brown eyes lifting to meet mine while my heart just swelled with emotion. “Love you.”

Bryony didn’t say anything. He just smiled at me and then another kid called out to him. With that, my son was gone, running to catch one of the other children.

I watched him go, giggling and laughing with a bunch of others, before I pushed to my feet and headed back to my car.

We had a temple to investigate. Or destroy. That part was still up in the air.

The drive downtown was quiet and uneventful, Sam’s hand resting on my thigh as I drove, his solid presence calming my roiling emotions better than anything ever could. He was just… there.

It didn’t take long to get to the church, and the parking lot looked a lot like it had yesterday—packed. A long line still stretched around the building, happy little worshippers bouncing to get inside.

I hadn’t seen a church this packed since the Vatican in the 1600s. Not that I “trespassed” in On High territory all that often. We shared a mutual dislike so I tended to avoid His places.

But while everyone here was happy to wait in line, I wasn’t. I grabbed Sam’s hand and tugged him toward the front entry, casting a quick glamour over us as I went. One of my dads is the pixie king and there’s nothing a pixie finds funnier than tricking people. Which meant I got the glamour gene from his little contribution to my mom’s magical gang bang.

We breezed into the church, acting like we belonged even though I looked more like a vagrant than a church-goer. No one stopped us or glanced in our direction even after I’d dropped my little “you don’t see me” mojo.

Whatever.

We looked around, Sam at my side, his attention split between our surroundings and me. Staring at the glossy pages and price-marked souvenirs, I decided the place was less like a church and more like a multi-level marketing convention. There were tables selling merchandise at prices that rivaled the theme parks. There were t-shirts and coffee mugs, pencils and keychains. And each one had that same strange symbol emblazoned on the surface along with a bunch of corny motivational phrases. “Give yourself to renewal!” or “Embrace your inner desires!” One table even sold DVD and Blu-ray recordings of some of the sermons.

Then there were the pamphlets. How many trees had to die for the shining paper that covered the walls? Papa Eron’s influence was strong this morning, his care for the Earth pushing and prodding at me amid all of this promotional excess.

I stopped at one of the tables and picked up a pamphlet promising that joining the Church of Lucia could improve my life and elevate my soul. I almost snorted. Not likely. On High would have something to say about me elevating anywhere.

I stared at it, fingers stroking the smooth surface, trying to discover if there was some kind of mystical message. But mostly it just talked about tithing and the spiritual importance of giving twenty percent of your income to the temple. On High was getting gipped.

“Are you newcomers to our sanctuary?” The man behind the table stepped forward, drawing my attention.

I glanced at him and then back at the pamphlet. The expression on his face was too cheerful, too happy. His eyes were open wide, the whites visible all around his irises, while his lips were stretched taut in a smile that revealed even his back teeth.

“Yeah, we’re just checking things out.” I wasn’t ready to get kicked out yet for being a nonbeliever.

“You should stay for the sermon.” His tone now matched the frantic, fake expression on his face. “It’s so motivating. You’ll learn how to actualize your inner priorities and uplift your spirit to new beginnings.”

“Right.” I nodded, pretending to understand a word of what he’d just said. It sounded like some New Age spiritualism that’d been around the last few decades. Same recipe, new label, charge twice as much.

We turned and followed the crowd, easing into the inner sanctuary, and Sam and I found seats near the back. I wasn’t keen on listening to some evangelical sermon, but my annoyance was eclipsed by my protective nature and love for Bry.

Then we just waited. Waited for a warlock or sorceress to step up to the podium and work some magic on us. We’d be protected thanks to amulets from Jezze. As long as we wore them, we’d be protected from just about any mind control.

But not all. That was a happy little disclaimer she gave when she handed them over and I cursed the tween. If the police used radar guns and lasers that had predictable, measured frequencies and humans could create radar and laser detectors, why couldn’t tweeners do the same with their spells.

It would make my life easier.

As the sermon went on, I didn’t feel so much as a wiggle from the amulet. No vibrating, no sudden freezes, nothing. All I got was cheesy, over the top proselytizing along with some loud gospel-hip-hop-weirdness music. There were video monitors set up across the front of the room, showing the preacher while he went on and on about the importance of personal growth along with spiritual enlightenment. Then it flicked to recordings of happy people doing “spiritual” things: walking hand in hand, picking flowers, playing in the park… oh, wait, and giving money to the church!

It was hard not being cynical when I knew, met, or had spoken to all of the other human deities. Ninety percent of them were all the same being and that guy had an over-inflated ego already.

When the tithing baskets came around, I tossed in my informational pamphlet and then Sam and I left. I blinked against the sun’s sudden brightness, checking its position in the sky.

“Well, that was a complete waste of a morning.” I glanced back at the temple. “There’s nothing here but a con.”

Sam shook his head, a sad, distant expression in his eyes. “Many don’t trust the churches anymore but still want spiritual guidance. It makes them easy prey for people like this.”

“Still, there’s got to be more. The New Age stuff gets them in the door, but there has to be more once they’re hooked. I doubt Lucia is reaching out from the bowels of Hell just to con humans out of money.”

“Something’s off, but I didn’t sense a familiar magical influence.”

I propped my hands on my hips, frowning at the large building. “No witchcraft or Jezze’s amulets would have warned us. There was no dem energy in there either or I would have sensed it.”

Being Satan’s niece gave me a sixth sense when it came to sensing other dems, and not a single hair had stood on end while we were in there.

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, but I was kinda hoping we could figure it out before we have to go balls to the wall and save the world.”

As much fun as I’d had killing things, it’d been exhausting.

We parted ways after that, Sam laying a long, sensuous kiss on me before climbing from my car. He’d poke and prod at some of his contacts across the city while I headed into work and grilled some tweens. Jezze showed right before it was time to open, and we swapped information.

Mainly that neither of us had anything useful to say.

Fuck.

To put a cherry on the non-informational day, it was Cupid Night at the bar all over again. The air was filled with pheromones and consumed with lust. So much that my wolf howled and ached for Sam. I pushed the bitch down and locked her ass up inside my mind so I could try and focus on my work. I didn’t have time for her to lift her tail. Not when I was questioning customers in between serving drinks.

But no one had heard anything. No, they didn’t know what was up with the new temple. Yeah, they’d heard about a couple incubi attacks, but nothing substantial. Oh, yeah, there was something funky going on in the city. Didn’t know what though.

One thing they all had in common? They were just as on edge as me. Their bodies vibrated with awareness, as if their subconscious had latched onto flight or fight mode, but their bodies hadn’t gotten the hint.

Well, the ones who weren’t busy humping each other’s legs, anyway.

I slid a beer across the table and tucked my tray under my arm, ready to launch into another round of small-talk Q and A when my hackles rose. It started slowly, a gradual tightening between my shoulders that spread outward. The hair on my arms stood on end and the back of my neck tingled. My inner wolf acted on instinct, vibrating inside my mind and just itching to jump forward.

I gave the two customers a smile and told them to let me know if they needed anything, and then I slowly turned to face the rest of the room. I scanned the space, searching for the source of my discomfort—the source of my wolf’s desire to rip something to shreds.

And the reason stood near the front door. Mitchell, Greg, and a few other wolves from the local pack stood just inside the bar, their massive sizes making the place feel even smaller than normal. They moved as one, on the prowl, eyeing all of the women with predatory intent. A few of the tweens moved out of the way as they passed, silently shifting aside. There weren’t many who would stand in the path of a pack of werewolves, even if they were in their human forms.

I cut them off before they even reached the bar, standing in Mitchell’s path as if he didn’t have seventy-five pounds and a full foot on me. Others might cower, but not me.

“I don’t want shit from you boys tonight.” They were two hundred, tops.

Mitchell sniffed the air, his eyes flaring amber, and I knew he’d caught my scent. A wide grin spread across his lips, and I didn’t doubt he could smell how much my inner wolf squirmed from all the heat in the room.

“We’re just here for a few drinks.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. Or are we not welcome anymore?”

Mitchell stared down at me, expression hard, eyes flat, and his wolf lurked right beneath the surface. I could feel it crouching, waiting for permission to pounce. That was another good thing that came from Papa Eron’s gang bang participation. I had a connection to living things—even tweener things.

He didn’t blink, didn’t twitch, just stared and I held his gaze. He needed to know who owned Hell’s Chapel, who pulled the fucking strings, and just who was dominant in this situation.

Me.

I jabbed a finger into his chest and leaned close, channeling a hint of hellfire into the touch. “You can come in. You can drink. But the first time one of the pack pressures an unwilling girl, you’re all gone.”

He sneered at me. “Caith, baby, you know the bitches are always willing when we ride into town.”

I rolled my eyes. Werewolves were cockier than most men. But, no matter how I felt about his boast, I stepped aside and let them pass. I didn’t want to start shit with anyone tonight if I didn’t have to. They were dicks, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with a whole werewolf thing at the moment. Because I’d beat the shit out of those guys and then their alpha Justin would show up. Then I’d beat the shit out of him and then I’d find myself pack alpha to a bunch of babies.

All with Papa Al’s support.

Fuck that noise.

The pack took a table in the back and flirted with some of the women in the bar, but they didn’t look like they were around to cause trouble. And, as much as I hated to admit it, it looked like several ladies were willing to ride a wild animal for the night. More than one young tween wandered over to start up a conversation, and several of the wolves left with girls on their arms.

Eh, no accounting for taste.

Everything else went smoothly for the night. Lots of tweeners were getting their groove on, but I hadn’t had to kick anyone out. Yet. It was about time for last call so I figured I’d have to escort a few through the front door.

I glanced back at the corner table, a little excited at the prospect of throwing Mitchell out on his ass, but… he was gone. Sure, it was possible he’d slipped out with a girl while I wasn’t looking. Totally plausible.

And yet… Yet my shoulders itched and my spine twinged and my gut clenched and motherfucker I was gonna have to see if he was still hanging around. The asshole would have given me shit before he left—if he’d left.

I panned my gaze around the room, tasting the air and drawing it into my lungs while I sought his scent. I rounded the end of the bar, slowly padding through the main area. I wound my way past tables and eased past booths, making sure I looked in every dark corner.

I caught a hint of his scent near the men’s room—faint, but there—and I would have walked away if some skank hadn’t walked out of there, tugging her short skirt down her thighs. I crossed my arms and spread my feet a little, staring her down with raised eyebrows. Her eyes widened, face paling, and she pressed her lips together in a tight line. The chick hurried past me and a wave of Mitchell’s stench hit me, the scent all over her.

I shook my head and sighed, stomping toward the men’s room. “Dammit, Mitch,” I grumbled and kicked the door to the men’s room. It swung wide, slamming against the tile wall, and I winced when I heard the unmistakable sound of ceramic cracking. “What did I tell you?” I’d blame the fucked up wall on him when I talked to the brownies. “No leg humping in the bathrooms. You need to take this shit back to your place. I’m not running a fucking fuck hou— “

I jolted to a stop and stared at what I found, trying to process what I was seeing. Mitchell lay propped against the wall, his pants still undone and dick hanging half out. I expected him to snarl and bitch at me. Or wag his cock and ask me if I wanted a taste.

Honestly, guys think wiggling dicks get a girl hot but all they do is make us want to cackle with laughter. Naked women? They can be totally hot in a bi-curious way. Naked men? Giggle-worthy no matter the amount of muscle.

But he didn’t snarl, bitch, or wag. He just sat there, a vague, distant look in his eyes and lines of drool sliding down his chin.

I went to him, crouching at his side and pressing my fingers to his neck. A steady pulse throbbed just beneath his skin. He was alive but showed no signs of movement. He didn’t attempt to cop a feel or snap at me. He just stayed passive. There wasn’t even a response when I scraped one of my nails along his throat. Nothing.

Sure, I could have snapped my fingers in his face, but scratching was more fun.

“Shit.” My first instinct was to call for help, but as I reached for my phone, another thought him me. “The girl…”

I rushed to the door and yanked it open, handle slamming against the wall once more. “Jezze!” I rushed into the bar. “That girl who was just in here, the redhead— “

But Jezze wasn’t counting out the register or wiping down tables. She was on the other side of the room, crouched by one of the booths. One that held that redhead slumped across the seat. Her green eyes were wide and distant, just like Mitchell’s.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

The lingering customers pushed to their feet, most swaying unsteadily, and wandered toward Jezze. I strode forward and waved them back, nudging the most insistent away. “Okay, back off, everyone. Nothing to see. We’re closing up for the night.”

More than one tweener grumbled, and a massive troll shot me a glare. But a flash of fang had him moving along with the rest of them.

I slipped my cell phone out of my pocket while I nudged a straggler awake. By nudged, I actually kicked out one of the legs of his chair and sent him sprawling. I hauled the guy to his feet while I hunted up the number I needed. This wasn’t a 9-1-1 situation since I was sure humans would be useless. This had the taint of mystical forces all over it, even if I couldn’t figure out what was up.

Nah, I reached out to an elven healer—Sorsha—who helped me last year when Bry had been drugged. She was good, a strong true healer and generally pretty awesome when she wasn’t ignoring me while she ran out the door to see another patient.

Our convo was brief and to the point, basically “get here now” and then I hung up. Thankfully it didn’t take long. By the time she showed, Jezze and I had laid Mitchell and his “date” out on the floor with a couple of jackets under their heads as pillows.

My one other call was to Papa Al to let him know something happened to one of the local wolves. Sure, I should have called Mitchell’s “real” alpha, but I was so not in the mood to deal with Justin. I’d let the High Wolf of North America handle the dick.

Papa Al strode in just after Sorsha arrived, a wave of anger and dominance cutting through the air in front of him. It was a weird force that alpha wolves rocked, an invisible knife that urged others to step aside and make a path for the approaching badass. A group of massive werewolves were at his back, a few peeling off here and there to take up sentry positions.

“What happened?” he barked. “Was he drugged? Is it a spell?”

I just shrugged and filled him in on the night, telling the healer and my father about the horny behavior among the patrons as well as Mitchell and the wolves. He paced while he listened, a low growl rumbling inside his chest and vibrating the air around him.

Sorsha tensed when the sounds began, twitching beneath that whip of anger. His wolves did the same, and even Jezze dropped her stare to the ground. Me? I just leaned against a table, crossed my legs at my ankles, and folded my arms over my chest. If my father hadn’t ripped me to shreds when I torched Chicago, he wasn’t gonna hurt me over this bit of bullshit.

I tugged out my phone again, calling my unicorn father, Papa Finn. Last year, when all of the lovely drugged water was making the rounds, he’d been able to detect the tainted substances. On the off chance we were dealing with a new brand of demon drug, I wanted him to check the bar over for any mystically tainted substances.

Except, he found nothing. Which was a relief in a way, but it didn’t get us any closer in figuring out what the fuck was going on here.

Through it all, Sorsha worked, checking her two catatonic patients and hunting for a solution to their comatose state. When she was finally done, Mitchell and his date were still out of it.

“I’ve stabilized them.” Sorsha rubbed birch leaves over her hands, making sure she rubbed every inch of her skin before tucking them away in a small bag. They’d cleansed her of the magic and powders she’d just used, and I knew she’d dispose of them properly later.

Magic couldn’t be washed off with soap and water.

“I’ve stabilized them. It was a close call.” Sorsha shook her head. “Their life forces were almost completely drained.”

“Drained?” I frowned. “Drained how?”

She shook her head. “I don’t’ know, but a mystical force tapped directly into their souls.”

“What can cause that sort of thing?”

“It’s similar to the effects of a succubus.” Sorsha’s voice was dark and grim.

A chill ran up my spine followed by a wave of fiery unease. This was another piece of the puzzle, and I hated that I didn’t have the big picture yet. “There wasn’t any succubus here tonight.” I remembered the one from last night, its long nails and tempting smile. “I’m sure of it.”

“There could be other sources.” Sorsha sighed. “Witchcraft. Certain vampire breeds who feed on souls instead of blood.” Sorsha went back to the couple. “But you should also see this.”

She knelt by both catatonic forms and lifted their hands, turning their palms upward to reveal…

A black symbol. One I recognized. One that matched Bry’s writing.

One I’d seen in the temple of Lucia.

I swallowed hard, hating what stared me in the face. Fuck.

“Has Mitchell been down to that temple lately?” I glanced at Papa Al and then knelt next to the unconscious wolf.

“Not that I know of. We worship the wild.”

And leave prayer for those who don’t know better, I mentally finished for him.

I dug into Mitchell’s pockets, rolling him to the side so I could shove my hand down one of the back ones, and tugged his wallet free. I flipped through what he had in there, tempted to pocket the cash. But I left it alone, pushing back my pixie nature. It wanted to steal and have a little fun with the passed out male, but I couldn’t indulge that part of me right then. I had more important things to focus on. Such as…

Why Mitchell had a business card emblazoned with the symbol of Lucia’s temple.

I held it up and flicked it, sending it flying across the room. My father plucked it from the air, pinching it between his fingers, and then a deep growl left his chest. “I’m going to have words with Justin.” He gritted his teeth. “Make sure they stay the hell away from that place.”

I let Mitchell flop back into place and pushed to my feet. “I need to find a way to shut them down.” I stared down at the wolf. I didn’t like the man, but I didn’t want this happening all over Orlando either. “If they’re the ones responsible for this…”

If they were responsible what? I couldn’t just burn the building to the ground. Well, I could, technically. And as long as I kept the fire, say, contained to that single building and not half the town, no one would stop me. But I didn’t want to risk hurting innocents in the process. Not everyone who walked through that door was evil. Misguided, but not evil.

Plus, destroying the building wouldn’t stop the people responsible for the mess. They’d cash in on their insurance and set up shop somewhere else.

No, I needed to get to the source, whoever—whatever—that was.

Jezze, Papa Al, and I discussed our options, but there didn’t seem to be much we could do right now. Papa Finn hadn’t found anything tainted in the bar, there was no one conscious to question, and attacking the humans at the temple wouldn’t help. They were being manipulated, and when someone manipulated gullible humans into forming a cult, they didn’t exactly hold boardroom meetings we could crash.

So we were left with the assumption that Lucia influenced her priests’ minds through hypnosis, appearing in their dreams or… any other ways in the unending list of how to fuck with mortals.

It was just… too many possibilities and not enough answers.