We don’t leave vamp camp. None of us even move, the tension and fear over what may be coming cementing us in place.

“I saw them, too, Master,” Hank says, falling to his knees in front of Misha. “The skulls were everywhere and burning in flames.”

It’s only then Misha tears his gaze from Celia. “What else did you see?”

Hank glances up, appearing afraid to answer. Misha lost control over his magic and mind the moment Johnny appeared. Johnny’s power must have somehow clashed with Misha’s magic, and I suppose mine as well, stirring that vision I had at the concert when I first met Johnny, and causing Misha to completely lose his shit.

The pain at watching Celia die, and not being able to save her, too closely mimicked his mother’s death. Jesus, how could he not remember that moment then?

“I saw the tiger,” Hank answers. “But nothing past that.”

“What tiger?” Agnes adds, her breath catching when she looks to Celia.

“There was a tiger on fire,” Hank says, his hands clenching. “The master tried to save her.”

“Her?” Aric asks.

I rub my eyes, remembering Misha’s howls and how he futilely beat the flames with his hands.

“It looked female,” Hank mutters, more afraid to tell Misha than Aric. “But it was hard to know for sure.”

Misha scans the area, his attention skipping over every one of his vampires. They all shake their heads, allowing Agnes to answer for them. “We only saw the burning skulls, Master.” She lifts her chin. “But Hank was closest to you. It could be the reason he witnessed more than we did.”

Aric doesn’t move, neither does Celia. Gemini stalks forward, menace spilling from him like blood from a fresh kill. “Misha tried to save her,” I reiterate. “I saw him.”

“And did he?” Aric asks.

The words are hard to say. “No. Her skulls were among those burning.”

“Was it me?”

Celia asks the one question none of us dare ask.

“I don’t know,” Misha answers.

Aric’s focus jerks to me. “I can’t be sure either,” I answer.

“She’s a golden tigress,” Aric points out. “Her markings are distinct. How can you not know?”

“The flames had already stripped her of her fur when I reached her,” Misha answers.

A bomb could have fallen from the sky and destroyed everything around us, and the aftermath still wouldn’t have been as quiet as we are now.

“I’m not sure Misha was there,” I say.

“What do you mean?” Aric asks frowning. “He told you he was and you saw him.”

“I know, but . . .” I cover my face, it’s only then I feel the bruise forming where Agnes slapped me awake. I release my hands slowly. “With the exception of me lifting the skull, this vision was almost exactly the same as the one I had at the concert. Everything was on fire and the entire area reduced to nothing but flames and ash. But it’s like Misha didn’t belong there. I put him there.” I meet his face. “Or maybe his magic did. Did you feel the flames, or the heat?”

He doesn’t immediately answer, appearing to give it a great deal of thought. “No. I couldn’t feel her.”

“You mean Celia,” Aric states.

He and Misha stare each other down. It’s not in challenge. It’s because neither want to believe that was really her.

“It could have been another tiger,” Edith Anne interjects. She kicks at the ground. “Even without fur the master would have known if she was pregnant.”

Her words cut off and she withdraws at the sight of Misha’s glare. Edith isn’t an easy vampire to like. She’s selfish and spoiled. But in her own way, she likes Celia and is trying to offer us hope.

“My apologies, Master.” She turns to face Celia, her expression one I can’t read and one I don’t recognize on her. “None of us want Celia to die.”

“She wasn’t pregnant,” Misha says. “That I’m certain of.”

Celia edges away. “Good,” she says. “At least the baby was safe.”

Which means her babies will live even if she doesn’t.

I veer away, swiping my tears and march to where Johnny sits on one of the benches. “Did you see the flames? The skulls, everything?”

He looks to Misha, horror riddling his features. “I saw everything,” he says, making it clear he saw more of Misha than he intended.

 

“Call the grandmaster, the head witches, and Omar,” Misha orders. A vamp takes off toward the house. Misha stops in front of Aric who is seconds away from destroying the entire compound. “The Alliance needs to be informed.” His focus drops to Celia. “It’s the only way we can prevent this madness.”

He storms away. I follow, or at least try to, practically running to keep up with him. “The vamps didn’t see the snow,” I mutter, trying to speak in code.

“No,” he says.

“Why?”

Misha’s long hair sweeps over his shoulder with how hard he turns around to speak to me. “I will never allow them to see me in a moment of weakness.”

“But then why did I . . .”

His stare falls to my arm. “The magic in your arm is ancient, so is mine, and in a way so is the Fate’s, since fate and destiny have always existed. They don’t like each other.” He frowns, picking up on something I don’t. “Or perhaps they do.”

Gemini said my magic and Johnny’s both compliments and clashes. I suppose there’s always room for one more, and this space seems reserved for Misha.

“So whose future did we see?” I grab Misha’s arm when he doesn’t answer. It’s a stupid question given his volatile state. Gemini knows it, shoving himself between us and hauling me back. “Whose future?” I demand, trying to break free of my lover’s hold.

Misha’s shoulders rise and fall, anger and the heat of the moment summoning his aggressive nature. Somehow, he keeps it together. “It’s yours, Taran, and Celia’s. You saw me. I couldn’t help her because I wasn’t there to help.”

He walks away. The vampires scrambling after him as he disappears inside the house.

 

 

 

The conference call goes well. And when I say well, I’m lying. The best I can say is no one died, and no one’s killed each other. Yet.

Johnny sits to my right, with Agnes on his opposite side. Like the rest of us, he’s ill at ease, waiting for the leaders to pass their ruling. To his credit, he’s not openly showing weakness. If anything, he’s showing his strength. His tats crawl along his skin, exactly as they did before our collective power went boom and I saw some shit we’ll never unsee.

The peacock Johnny drew on his stomach shakes out his feathers as he parades around the room, his form massive upon leaving Johnny’s skin. He passes the row of vamps lining the wall who creep away from it. They’re not afraid of the bird, they’re afraid of the power behind it. So are the wolves who growl as it struts by.

Omar, the president of the North American Were Council watches it with interest from the giant screen directly in front of us. “As president, I hereby offer the Fate our full protection and declare him a national treasure.”

Genevieve and Ines seethe from their screen to the left, the silver and gold light streaming from their amulets indicative of their anger and disdain.

Johnny straightens. “What does that mean?” he asks me over Ines’s reply that Johnny isn’t the weres’ to claim.

I lean toward him yet it’s Gemini who replies, his voice terse. “That you’re under our protection should you agree to join the Pack.”

“I’m not a were,” he says, sounding confused.

“No,” Gemini agrees. “It’s an official title granted only once before.” His attention darts to Celia, who became a national treasure only after Destiny declared her and Aric’s children as the ones who would save us all.

Aric isn’t happy, neither are the witches. “Let it be known that as Alpha and Leader I’m against any declaration that puts my mate at risk.”

“Your mate is still under our protection, I assure you.” It’s what Omar says, but he doesn’t bother looking at Aric when he says it. No, his admiration is too busy skipping between Johnny and that damn peacock.

“The Fate belongs among the witches,” Ines insists, her anger building.

“I believe you have enough problems,” Omar adds casually. “The shapeshifters are coming for you, witch. Burning the heart branded a target into your back, and into those you most cherish. Take this time to prepare for the inevitable counter-strike.” He smiles. “We’ll see to the Fate.”

Uri laughs from the screen poised in front of Misha. It’s the type of laugh that has nothing to do with humor and everything to do with superiority. Somehow, he feels he has the upper hand. “The Fate will do better with those who show him respect.” He smiles in Johnny’s direction. “And those more accustomed to the lavish lifestyle he leads. May I be the first to welcome you into our family, young Fate?”

Ines snaps, screaming at Uri and Omar in French. Growls erupt from Omar, and Aric. Like the rest of us, Aric recognizes that Celia and their children will be the ones ultimately screwed.
The peacock shoots forward, the plumage from his gold feathers vanishing in colorful spurts as he reforms into Johnny’s skin. No one notices, the collective group at each other’s throats when Johnny storms out.

Gemini clasps my hand when I rise. He knows I’m going after Johnny. “I can’t leave,” he says, jerking his chin in Aric’s direction. “Our pack needs to show a united front, even if our president won’t.”

“I know,” I reply. Like me, Gemini narrows his stare on Omar. Omar notices and smiles. He’s not afraid of us, except maybe he should be.

“You need to stand by Aric and Celia,” I say, pressing a kiss to his temple and slipping from his hold. “I need to . . . I don’t know what I need. I just need to get the hell away from everyone before I burn this shit down.”

I stomp away, furious. These supposed leaders have their own agendas, their own needs to fill. I understand it, but like Aric, my priority is Celia’s safety, not who gets to claim a super power like Johnny.

Since the incident on the mountain, I feel Johnny more, his feelings and turmoil of emotions, but most of all his growing power. Each moment Destiny comes closer to death, I sense Johnny getting that much closer to becoming omnipotent.

I’m sad for both of them, for Destiny who’s dying far too young, and for Johnny who’s too young to bear the title Fate brings.

I pass the library, nodding to Hank and Agnes who wait by the large lead glass window. They seem angry, likely having heard every bit of the conversation next door, as well as sensing Misha’s frustration.

“You headed out?” Hank asks.

“Soon,” I say, hoping it’s true.

My stare falls to my feet as I continue forward, my hot pink shoes the only bright spot in the dark hall.

Although I shouldn’t, I smile softly when I sense Johnny’s magic pulling me toward the solarium. It’s familiar and welcoming, drawing me to him and away from the escalating voices.

Breasha and her guardian are long gone, tucked away and protected from the chaos. I’m still not crazy about Misha’s arrangement with her. But I trust Misha enough to do the right thing. If not for me, for Celia, who counts on him when it matters, and who can somehow see beyond the omniscient master he’s quickly becoming.

With a sigh that does nothing to release my stress, I step into the solarium.

The entire glass ceiling reveals a canvas of midnight blue and gleaming stars. It’s perfect, very unlike this less than perfect night.

Johnny paces near the wall of glass that gives a view of the lake, his tats snaking across his arms and back. Like him, every image he created is agitated. And like him, they’re probably worried what’s to become of them all.

I take a seat along the ridge of a giant planter, glimpsing at the canopy of Flame Mimosas branching out over my head. They partially obscure my view of the sky, not that I mind. Both are different yet neither is less beautiful.

Water trickling from the stone fountain at the center and Johnny’s nervous steps are the only sounds in the room.

“What’s going to happen to me, Taran?” he asks, stopping suddenly.

“What do you want to happen?” I offer a sympathetic smile. “Besides for all this to go away?”

“I want to feel safe,” he replies, his voice cracking. “I don’t want anything to hurt me.”

I glance behind me, hoping no one is close. The last thing Johnny needs now is to be perceived as weak or as another pawn any of the elite can move around as they wish. I don’t see anyone, but this is Misha’s home. He has eyes and ears everywhere.

My first thought is to shush Johnny, but the damage is done, and whatever he’s feeling, he needs to feel for the sake of his sanity.

“The weres don’t like me, do they?” he asks. “I don’t mean just Gemini’s pack. I mean all of them.”

It’s not the first time he’s questioned how the weres feel about him. “It’s not dislike,” I say. “It’s what their animal instincts feel when they’re around you. They sense that you’re capable of more than perhaps you’re aware of. That unknown strength makes them leery and leads to distrust.” I cross my legs. “Keep in mind, belonging to a Pack is all about protecting your own. If they don’t know what you can do, they can’t guard against it.”

“They don’t have to worry about me.”

As much as I like Johnny, he’s dead wrong.

“Look,” I say. “The offer to join the Pack is a generous one. You’ll be protected and allowed all the benefits the title of national treasure affords.”

“Will I ever be one of them?”

“You’ll be as much of were as we are,” I reply truthfully.

“So I’ll never belong?”

“No,” I answer just as bluntly.

Johnny rubs his hands, the worry and thoughts troubling his mind drawing deep lines along his forehead. “The witches might not make it,” he says. “That’s what Omar was trying to tell Ines, wasn’t it? That she’s nothing more than a snack waiting to be eaten.”

“Ines and Genevieve are the strongest of your kind. Neither will go down without a fight.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” he tells me. He digs through his jeans for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. No doubt gifts from the vamps. He lights up, taking a drag. “They may be tough, like you claim, and like I saw when we were on that mountain. But shifters are stronger.”

The puff he releases turns into a dragon with large wings. He flies around the room, releasing gray smoke in long, swirly streams.

I watch it disappear, speaking slowly. “The shifters are the strongest of all the supernaturals,” I agree, trying to act and speak casually and failing miserably at both. “It takes many of us just to bring one down.”

“How many?” he asks.

“Too many,” I say. “Lives are lost each time we fight them. Look at the Imperials. They’re the Wonder Women of their kind and even they died protecting Ines and her family.”

“Are the vampires as easily defeated?”

I frown. “That wasn’t an easy defeat, Johnny. It only seems that way because shifters are absurdly strong.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He looks in the direction of the exit when I nod. “From what I’ve seen, vamps are stronger than witches. Take Misha. He packs a serious punch. I felt it when our magic met. He can take on a shifter. I know he can.”

“Misha is lethal, but he can’t take down a shifter alone.” It’s what I say, although after everything I saw and felt in the garden when our collective magic slapped us around, I’m no longer certain that’s true.

Between him and Johnny, it was Misha’s strength that struck me the hardest. For the most part, we’ve spoken of Misha’s mounting superiority in whispers, and how one day, no preternatural will be able to touch him. I think it’s because we’re afraid to admit the truth.

He’s already beyond what we worried he’d become.

“Why does he still submit to Uri?” Johnny asks, his thoughts mimicking mine. “He’s already stronger than his master. I don’t have to know Uri to see it.”

The air stills around us, thick with tension and fear. That’s when I’m certain we’re not alone. I try to silence Johnny, but he knows, and doesn’t care who hears him.

“It’s a respect thing,” I say, hoping he leaves it at that.

“Or because Misha feels he owes Uri for letting him have his revenge.”

“It’s not as easy as you’re making it,” I insist, wishing he hadn’t seen Misha’s vulnerable side.

Johnny blows out another puff of smoke, this time a winged stallion. “Yeah it is.”

I rise, brushing off my jeans. “You’re wrong. Misha loves Uri, and Uri thinks of him as son.” It’s true, I think. Mostly though, I’m speaking to those listening just outside this room. They need reassurance that the relationship between their master and grandmaster remains strong.

“Let me ask you this,” he says. “If you were me, who would you stay with?”

“The weres,” I reply.

He snorts, his reaction making him choke on his smoke. “No, Taran. If you were me, who would you stay with to keep you safe.”

“The vamps.” I don’t hesitate. “Uri’s right. Their lifestyle is more what you’re used to. But Johnny, despite what you’ve seen, the weres are the heart of this world, and their strength and magic is what makes it beat.”

He watches me closely, trying to gauge whether I’m lying. For a long time he simply stands there, playing with his lighter as he ponders his next move.

“I think I know what I have to do,” he finally says.

From his jungle-sleeve tattoo, a beautiful blue butterfly emerges, fluttering through the open window and disappearing into the night. I frown. “What are you doing?”

Tears shimmer his eyes. “Saying goodbye to the life I knew, and hello to the one that will help me survive.”

He mashes out his cigarette on the side of the cement planter and flicks the butt to the side. Without a glance back, he marches toward the foyer.

I think it’s a power play and part of his newly elected “I don’t give a damn” persona. Still, I lift the butt, trying to find a place to dump it.

Agnes steps from behind the fountain. She was here the whole time.

“I’ll take it,” she says, holding out her hand. Her stare flickers toward the doorway where Johnny stands. “He’s waiting for you.”

I follow Johnny as he returns to the conference room, his arrival causing an immediate silence. Like I taught him, his head is high and his shoulders are squared.

His tats move across his skin in a show of dominance as he steps between the large screens. For the first time, I can’t sense his fear. But I know it’s there, and somehow, worse than before.

“I’ve made a decision,” he says, speaking over Omar when he tries to greet him. He meets Uri in the face, something I would hesitate to do even in front of a monitor.

“I choose the vamps,” Johnny announces, speaking quickly when the entire room erupts with noise. “But I have conditions.”

Uri leans back into his seat, appearing impressed. “What are they?” he asks.

Ines storms off-screen. “Don’t do this,” Genevieve says, affronted and angry. “That isn’t where you belong.”

Johnny ignores her, speaking to Uri as if only he matters. “One last concert for my fans, and for my people who didn’t make it. Only I want the weres to guard me and for Misha to come for me once it’s over.”

“Where?” Uri asks.

“Why do you want us guarding you?” Aric asks. He rises slowly as does Gemini. “If you’re choosing the vamps, why not let them watch you?”

Johnny looks at Gemini. “I want Taran with me. I know you won’t let her go unless you’re there, too.”

That much is true.

“Where do you wish this concert to be?” Uri asks. He doesn’t like the attention on anyone but him and is pissed Aric momentarily stole his spotlight.

“Orangeburg County, in South Carolina. There’s a new arena. One of the last few times I talked to Drake, he said that’s where I needed to be.” He huffs. “Thirty-thousand capacity. Go big or go home, right?”

“If that’s what you want, you shall have it, young Fate,” Uri tells him, looking as pleased as a cat with a screeching canary in its mouth.

Johnny meets my face, and for the briefest moment, I feel his heart shatter. “It’s what I want,” he says. “I think it’s time we all embrace our fate.”