Trudhilde Radinka aka Destiny.

I first met her in vampire court a few years ago. The same day we met Misha, in fact. We were charged with unjustifiably killing one of Misha’s keep, a big no-no unless the vamp tries to kill you first or he directly challenges you to some stupid duel.

The court was packed with beings with sharp nails and fangs, deliberated by vampires older than dirt, and brought forth by Misha who will one day strike the most powerful master dead. Their collective power raked against our skin and pierced our bones, demanding blood and torture.

But it was Destiny who scared the unholy shit out of me.

Forget that she dresses like a six-year-old who found a chest stuffed with clothes accented in polka dots, zebra stripes, feathers, and roadkill fur. Destiny is different. No, she’s flat out bizarre. You know some of those freaks who walk around, those you suspect collect shoeboxes stuffed with Barbie doll legs and dust bunnies who resemble celebrities? Destiny is their leader and she wears that crown proudly.

Once every century an especially gifted baby girl is born from a union of two powerful witches. She is given the name of the original and most powerful soothsayer of all time. But it’s her insane ability to accurately predict the future that earns her the nickname Destiny.

She’s who decreed Celia and Aric’s children would rid the world of evil, sticking to her guns even after Celia was told she could no longer bear children.

I glance behind me as we reach the base of Granite Chief Peak, expecting her to pop out of the rear wearing a zebra-striped fedora. “Of all the supernaturals out there,” I mutter.

“She’s not so bad,” Emme says. She squirms as the first of many magical defenses leading up to the Den press against us. “She’s just a little unique and quirky.”

“Unique and quirky are good words,” I agree, rubbing my arms and trying to shake the mix of witch and were magic we’re doused with. “So are outlandish and alarming.”

It’s not that I don’t like Destiny. Frying my brains to goo in vamp court aside, she’s nice enough, always waving and smiling like we’re besties. And if it wasn’t for her and all the clout she carries beneath the weasel fur she wears, Celia wouldn’t be under the protection she is, and her future children would be seen as mutts not saviors.

Gemini’s SUV barrels up the path, slinging mud from last night’s rain against the windshield and tiny pebbles pitter-patter beneath the undercarriage. I frown when I realize something doesn’t make sense. “Wait a minute. Why would someone target Destiny?”

“Why wouldn’t someone target her?” Emme questions softly. “She’s hailed as royalty among witches and is held in high regard across the supernatural spectrum.”

Gemini smirks. He knows what I mean. “Because you have to be a real dumbass with a death wish to mess with Destiny. I get that her name is figurative, but it’s literal too, given that her predictions, and those of her predecessors, are never wrong.”

“Pardon?” Emme asks.

“She can ‘see’ anyone trying to kill her,” I elaborate further. “And because she can, she can obliterate her assassin long before he thinks about taking her out.”

My “weird” magic gives me glimpses of the future. They’re always graphic and tend to revolve around chaos and dismembered body parts soaring through the air. They also pop out of nowhere and usually haunt me for months. I don’t think Destiny has that problem and would bet she can summon her visions at will.

“There’s a lot we don’t know about Destiny,” Gemini adds. “And a great deal more she and her predecessors have kept hidden. What we do know gives us just a hint of her strength. It’s what’s kept her, and others like her, safe throughout history.”

“I figured,” I add. “Disastrous taste in clothes aside, she’s not stupid. Personally, I think all the bells, whistles, and funky fur are to distract from all the mojo lurking beneath.”

“Agreed.” He eases along the road, easily avoiding a large ditch. “There are countless legends surrounding Destinies. All warn that .”

“You can’t kill Destiny?” Emme asks.

“It seems that way. All documented attempts throughout history were foiled, and every assailant who tried met a strange fate.”

“What constitutes a strange fate?” Emme asks.

He glances at the rearview mirror.

“Never mind,” she adds quickly. “Maybe I don’t want to know.”

“But maybe you should,” he tells her gently. “Have you ever heard of Draco the Athenian law maker?”

“No,” Emme replies. I shake my head too.

“Unbeknownst to the humans he served, he was a warlock and among Destiny of Aegina’s biggest critics. It was rumored he hired a merc to kill her in 620 BC. The night of the assassination attempt he went to a theatre, likely to make himself visible so he wouldn’t be named a suspect.” His gaze flickers to me. “He never made it out of that theatre.”

I’m picturing something gruesome involving a sharp weapon. But Gemini did say “strange fate” and he doesn’t disappoint.

“He was showered with coats and hats from grateful citizens. So many he was smothered to death.”

“All right, that’s messed up,” I agree.

“There’s more.”

“There always is,” I say, steeling myself.

“When his guards peeled back the layers of clothing in an attempt to rescue him, they found the hired assassin on top of him with his throat slit.”

“Mmm,” I say. But what I’m really thinking is damn what a freaky way to go!

“In 455 BC, , Athenian author of tragedies, and brother to the local head witch, sent a band of marauders to ambush Destiny of Athens en route to Troy. He was furious with Destiny following her prediction that he would die by a flying object, convinced she was trying to intimidate his sister into surrendering her territory.”

I hold out a hand. “Let me guess, that Destiny made it out unscathed didn’t she?”

He nods. “The creek that ran through his property turned red from the blood of the marauders found stacked like stones up stream.”

“What happened to him?” Emme asks, hesitantly.

“He was killed by a tortoise dropped by an eagle. Most believe the eagle mistook his bald head for a rock it needed to shatter the tortoise’s shell.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Neither do I. Death by tortoise is some messed up comment to chisel into your headstone. “What about Destiny of Athens?” I ask. “Did she take his sister’s territory?”

“No,” he says. “A different witch did when she died of grief following her brother’s death.” He stomps on the gas as the road grows steeper and narrows. The rows of sugar pines thicken, shadowing the ravine below. “These stories are just the beginning and grow more violent in the middle ages.”

“Do they all involve witches?” I ask. “It seems to me that’s the running theme here.”

“No, some involve vampires and weres who saw her as threat or viewed her as competition.” He shoots me a look. “We all have blood on our hands.”

“We do,” I agree. If history has taught me anything it’s no race has been exempt from cruelty. “But as much as Destiny falls under the witch umbrella, she doesn’t embrace the world of covens and spells.” To my knowledge, she wasn’t required to attend “witch school”, unlike me who was forced to (although I’m not a witch) just to keep Sparky from burning us alive. “And the spell-wielders don’t exactly embrace her. I’ve never seen any witch from any coven run up to her like an old friend, happy to see her, and glad she arrived.”

“I know. It’s one of the reasons I feel bad for her,” Emme adds quietly. “She’s invited to all these exclusive events and interacts with the most prestigious members of supernatural society, but it’s only because of her power and her title of Destiny. I don’t think she has many real friends or genuine relationships.”

“I don’t think so either,” I agree. “Except for Tye.” I laugh when I turn to look at Emme, knowing she’s blushing. “You remember Tye don’t you?”

Gemini takes a sniff, likely picking up on Emme’s sudden shyness. “What don’t I know?” he asks.

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” she says.

“Just that she made out with the son of the president of the North American Were Council,” I add, ignoring her attempts to silence me. “No big deal, right, Emme?”

Gemini rubs his jaw, chuckling as he straightens his SUV. “When did this happen?”

“Malaysia,” I say, laughing.

His grin fades as he inhales deep. “That wasn’t Tye,” he murmurs.

“What?” I turn around, but Emme’s found someplace else to look. I’m dying to know who she was with. I was certain it was Tye. But something about the way she curls inward makes me back off.

“Ah, so getting back to Destiny,” I say, unable to keep the worry from my tone. “Seeing how anyone who has ever opposed her kind dies in some tripped-out way, she should be safe. Between her powers and what history has shown, it’s like she’s impossible to kill.”

“But she’s not,” Gemini says. “It’s true that no one has ever succeeded in killing a Destiny. That doesn’t mean she can’t be killed. We can’t assume she’s safe nor can we abandon her without protection.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I say, thoughtfully, remembering the shifters and how they’re feeding the assassins their blood. Some prick could try and off her. Destiny, while not exactly normal, is very human, and God knows she has a heart.

I roll my shoulders when another wave of magic pushes through me. The defenses are similar to the ones surrounding our house and capable of blowing any threat to smithereens. But the ones around our house are welcoming since we’re a part of it.

Mate or not to the second in command, and sister-in-law to a pureblood Leader, my sisters and I still don’t feel welcomed, and these magic wards reflect their dislike.

I lean back into the comfortable leather seat, thinking matters through and trying to come to grips with it all. Normally, it takes forever to get up the mountain. Tonight it doesn’t take long enough. I hate what’s happening—the greed, the constant battle for supremacy that wages between “us” and “them”—there’s no end in sight, not even with the exorbitant amount of loss on both sides.

My eyesight sharpens and my nerves go on edge the moment the stone fortress that surrounds the Den comes into view. I don’t see the weres stalking in the shadows along the perimeter, but my body and magic sense their presence.

“They’re friendly,” Gemini assures me when he glances in my direction and catches sight of my eyes.

What he means is they’re part of the Pack. Friendly is a loose term around here and not one I’d ever use to describe a were. The fact that they’re prowling outside Den walls is indicative of their need to protect and readiness to kill.

I blink several times, trying to clear the unusual way my irises blanch when preternaturals draw too close. But it’s not until Gemini strokes his hand gingerly against my cheek that I finally settle. It’s not that I think the weres would attack me unprovoked. It’s more that I recognize we’ll never quite fit in, regardless of how hard we try.

We reach the tall wrought iron gates at the main entrance. Slowly and gracefully they part, allowing us through and onto the hundred acres of land secured behind the fortress. As the tree line breaks further up the road, the sea of lush green grass that usually greets us by day opens to waves of inky black.

Each blade of grass glints with silver, illuminated by the full moon pushing through the cluster of clouds stretching across it. I expect the usual, young weres in their beast forms racing along, their large paws indenting the thick sod as they practice tracking those who threaten the earth.

I never told Gemini how much I like watching the young weres. Their energy during their lessons is a perfect blend of innocence and excitement, and the thrill of the hunt, that’s something altogether different. They want to be the good guys, and are enthusiastic about learning their duties. I don’t know another species like that, I suppose that’s why I have such a strong respect for them.

Tonight, that enthusiasm and innocence is gone, replaced by a sense of seriousness I wish they didn’t have to know so young. It’s no longer playtime, too much shit is going down. I catch traces of their eyes as Gemini careens forward, their large bodies huddled along the taller stalks of grass and slinking through the thick forest in silence.

“The kiddos are out late,” I say.

“They’ve been pulled for watch,” Gemini says. “Every student will be required to work in shifts for the next few weeks. Perhaps longer depending on what happens next.”

Even with all the magical booby-traps and protection spells the property has been saturated with, and the older weres skulking outside the Den walls, it’s not enough. The Alliance isn’t taking any chances.

I only hope they don’t take any chances when it comes to Celia.

“Did you know?” I ask, my voice unusually quiet. “That any of this was coming?”

“We’re always suspicious when something occurs out of the ordinary,” he says, reaching for my hand. “And as a whole, weres tend to be more paranoid, given what our species has been exposed to.” He kisses my hand. “But whatever doubts remained vanished following the assault against Genevieve.”

“And the attack against Uri was the final nail in the coffin,” I reason. “Seeing how high his rank and how insanely dangerous he is, I’m sure that put everyone on edge.”

“It did,” he agrees, his voice lowering as we pull into the main campus.

The Den originally resembled a fancy ski resort catering to those of lavish means. Since the war, and everything that happened in between, what originally was designed to be a school for werewolves expanded, becoming a safe haven for weres of all species

A large fountain at the center of the campus seamlessly joined the new buildings with the old, and small paved streets separate each block. I was worried when the expansion began that the area would lose its elegance and prestige. But the were who designed it wanted to stay true to the original vision, maintaining its beauty as well as its opulent reputation.

Three-story buildings, adorned with stone steps that lead to wraparound porches with stout granite pillars and outdoor fireplaces, line each row. The landscaping is subtle, not that it needs much. A few shrubs here, a tree there, and sculptures made from boulders and petrified wood strewn in between. Just as the vamps have their share of wealth so do the weres, and they’re not afraid to shine a spotlight on all they’ve accrued throughout the centuries.

Ordinarily, there aren’t many cars lining the streets. The majority of residents park in the underground garages that double as reinforced bunkers in case of an invasion. Tonight, a parade of Hummer limos and high-end cars that must have had a bitch of a time burning rubber up the steep mountain path hug the curb, their presence showcasing just how many have gathered seeking protection and adding to the heaviness drifting in the cool night air. 

Gemini parks behind a familiar limo with BYTEME plates. “Are we late?” I ask, stepping out.

“Looks that way,” he answers, glancing up toward the center building. “Emme, come with us and stay to my right.”

Ordinarily, Gemini and I walk into the Den grounds holding hands. It’s something he prefers since he claimed me to remind others who I am to him. He doesn’t like how the stares of males, and sometimes females, linger on my face and body. And with everything that’s happening, I also think he worries about who may try to harm me in an attempt to hurt him.  

“It’s all right,” Emme says, shutting the door. “I don’t mind walking behind you.”

No, she doesn’t, which is why Emme is the sweetest person who’s ever walked the earth. She never wants to be perceived as intrusive, nor does she need to be coddled. She is, however, non-too confident in her getup and likely wants to run and hide.

She yanks up the waistband of her sweatpants, creating a bulge along her midsection and fanning out the borrowed long-sleeved T-shirt she’s wearing. I think she was trying to improve her appearance, only now her slight frame has an odd shape, similar to Tweedledee and Tweedledum, only way cuter.

I think.

Her nose crinkles when she lifts her sleeve and she takes a whiff. God bless her. Honolulu Sunshine cleaned off our hands and her face, but the scent of entrails lingers and her hair is well, “crunchy”.

A deep growl has her jumping and me whipping around with my firing arm out. Blue and white flames ribbon around the length of my arm, sending sparks to trickle against and char the sidewalk. The knuckles of my left hand cracks, my lightning ready to nail whatever threatens us, if my fire doesn’t burn it to ash first.

“Gemini,” I say, widening my stance as I look around.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs.

Regardless of what he claims, the muscles along his back stretch, threatening to split his shirt in half and allow his twin wolf to leap out. He scowls, looking up, the intensity in his stare rivaling the heat in my arm.

From the roof a brown wolf leaps like liquid fur, landing before us with his haunches raised and his gums peeling back from his jowls.

My arm shuts off, recognizing Bren long before I do. “What the hell is your problem?” I ask.

I glance around, certain he must be growling at another wolf behind us. But the only one behind me is Emme.

She averts her gaze. “No,” she whispers.

“No what?” I question.

“She’s not speaking to you,” Gemini answers. He sidesteps in front of Bren, keeping him from Emme. “She’s not hurt and she won’t be. You have my word I’ll keep her safe.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Bren tends to be protective of me and my sisters, especially Emme. He probably scents the vampire blood still soaking her body and is stressed about what happened to her.

 I step forward only to startle when he snaps his fangs.

“Not tonight,” Gemini fires back, his voice as deep as the growls Bren greets us with. “She needs space and we need to get inside.”

I don’t see Bren move, his motions too quick. Gemini does, shoving his body between him and Emme when Bren lunges to the right.

“Bren,” Gemini snaps. “We need to portray a united front. I’m going to ask you one more time to keep your distance from her. If you don’t, the Pack won’t allow you anywhere near her.”

Emme wrings her hands. “Bren, go,” she says, her expression breaking. “We’ll talk later.”

It’s not Gemini’s threat that makes Bren back down, it’s the way Emme appears to splinter. As I watch, I can sense pieces of her fall away like shards from a once glorious piece of crystal.

Bren’s growls fade away, and from one moment to the next, he’s gone.

“What was that?” I ask, turning to Emme.

It takes her too long to answer. “He doesn’t want me hunting.”

That’s nothing new. Like I said, Bren has always been protective. But this wave of protectiveness isn’t directed at me, or Shayna, or Celia. Not this time. This time, it’s all about Emme.

“No, he doesn’t. But that’s not why he’s pissed.” I take in her demeanor and how she seems to pull away. “Emme, what’s going on?”

Emme meets my face, saying nothing all the while appearing to hold too much back.

“Just tell me,” I say.

Gemini’s fingers trail to my lower back. “Now isn’t the time,” he says, the way he grips my hip giving away the severity of the situation despite his gentle hold. “A lot is happening between the weres and how Emme is perceived,” he explains. “It’s firing Bren’s defensive nature.”

He focuses on Emme. “I need you to stay beside me,” he tells her. “And you’re not to leave with another male unless it’s me, Aric, or Koda. Females are fine, but not other males. Am I clear?”

It’s often hard for me to keep my trap shut. This is one of those moments, and if it weren’t for how Emme seems to withdraw further, I would be demanding a lot more than I’m getting.

“All right,” Emme agrees just above a whisper.

“Let’s go,” he says.

I glance at him, hoping he’ll give me a clue to what’s happening. He keeps his stare ahead. He’s trying to keep Emme from appearing alone and vulnerable. I know that much. Except there’s more to it based on Bren going all animal.

Two weres in human form guard the double front doors leading into the main building. I recognize them from last year’s graduating class. They nod to Gemini and open the doors, allowing us through. The viciousness in their deep-set eyes alert me of their anger and how they’re prepared to maul anything that tries to get past them.

But the way they regard Emme is entirely different.

I was already tense, but all this heaviness soiling the air is doing little to soothe me and Sparky. I mutter a curse when she starts to quiver. Gemini reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out my gloves.

“Here, take these.”

“I’m not trying to hide who you are,” he adds when I reach for them slowly. “But I am trying to keep as much attention off you as I can.”

“All right,” I say, realizing he only means to keep me safe.

We pass through the large foyer and continue down a long corridor paneled in dark wood, our steps the only noise in what should be a building busting with activity and magic.

I tug on my gloves as we walk, stretching my fingers through them. “I didn’t know you had them.”

His focus locks onto the entrance to the ballroom ahead. “I found them when I first entered the alley. They slipped my mind when I saw the situation you were in.”

“I had it under control.”

He looks at me.

“Well, I did,” I mumble.

“With that logic so did Emme,” he says, jerking his head in her direction. “And we see and smell where that led her.”

“You can smell me?” she asks.

She could smell herself when she pressed her sleeve against her nose, and likely reasoned it was only because she’s close to the source. Personally, all I smell is Honolulu Sunshine, having lathered it on her like she was covered with bile, because hey, she sure as hell was.

I glance at Gemini, knowing his nose scents a lot more than my sanitizer.

“My apologies Emme,” he says.

Emme’s panic-riddled features whip my way. I know what she’s thinking, the room is going to be packed with supernatural noses. They’ll scent her, and see her, and good Lord, no wonder he wants her so close to him. He’s the best line of defense she has.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, in true pa-shaw fashion, lying through my damn teeth.

She covers her face. “Yes, it is,” she moans.

The doors part ahead of us. I think it’s some spell. I don’t know the extent until we close in.

I don’t see the weres, not at first. Their appearance slowly taking shape as I near, starting with the blurry images of their outlines seconds before their large shapes fill in.

Two hulking men wait on either side of the door, wolves the size of buffalo standing guard at their sides. They scowl when they see us. However, it takes the gray wolf with smooth dark fur sneezing and thrusting her tongue in disgust to make me realize they’re not exactly angry.

Like the weres at the front doors, they smell Emme, and like them, they don’t think my hand sanitizer did the trick. If anything, it’s like all the glop she was doused in is burning its way through their snouts.

“Is it that bad?” I whisper.

“No,” Gemini answers.

He’s lying. Obviously.

I stop in the doorway. The massive room, surrounded with floor to ceiling windows that unveil a sky littered with stars, appears to be under construction. Several tools, ladders, and piles of lumber are strewn haphazardly across the large expanse and the skeletal remains of broken furniture rest against the far walls.

“Keep walking,” Gemini says.

I do, my eyes widening as the piles of lumber and remnants of construction vanish, and a large group of supernaturals slowly come into view.

The room has been disguised and altered with a cloaking spell. A formam mutatio spell if memory serves. Anyone who manages to get through the wards and guards will only see a room in the process of being fixed, not the magical muscle hidden within it.

Yet once we’re in, the magical muscles collectively flex, tracing like points from an arsenal of daggers across my skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to show me how easily they could puncture my flesh.

Uri, Misha’s master is close, as are the Pack Elders, and Misha himself. I feel them. Genevieve, Tahoe’s Head Witch, is here, too. Her magic like the others is strong enough to drip like warm blood against my skin. But even if I couldn’t feel her power, I’d know she was here. No one else could have cast a spell of this magnitude so quickly.

Some of her coven linger just a few feet away, huddled closely and speaking in hushed voices. I nod as I pass them, trying to be polite. Ordinarily I’d stop and chat. But these are extraordinary circumstances and no one is in the mood for friendly conversation.

Seated at a large granite table along a raised platform are Celia and the Pack Elders. Aric stands directly behind Celia, his arms crossed and his expression as dark as the five o’clock shadow lining his jaw. Celia is saying something I don’t quite hear, and she doesn’t quite finish. She and Aric turn in our direction, their eyes widening when they fix on Emme.

A cluster of weres and witches loitering beside an elaborate buffet quiet as we near. I assume it’s because Gemini has arrived or because they sense my magic. It’s not until we’re almost to them that I realize they barely notice us. Oh, no, they’re attention is all on Emme.

The weres lower their plates stacked with prime rib, fruits, and bread as we reach them. The witches mostly clasp their mouths, their faces blanching. It’s bad enough Emme looks like a hot mess. She reeks of one, too.

Witches have a way of sensing suffering and death, and likely sense all the damage Emme inflicted on the vampires. The weres sense more than that, their noses wrinkling, and more than a few walking away and leaving their food behind.

“Oh, God,” Emme squeaks, covering her face.

“It’s not you, it’s them,” I say.

I look to Gemini who regards me as if I’m crazy. “Isn’t it, love?” I ask through my teeth.

“Yes,” he mumbles. “Of course.”

Damn, he’s a terrible liar when it counts.

The wall of bodies ahead of us, some more or less human, others in beast form, part, giving us ample space as we make our way toward the raised platform where Celia appears worried and Aric is close to losing his cool. I’ll give us this, we know how to make an entrance.

And so does Destiny.

A spray of black, white, and hot pink feathers pop up over a crowd of very uncomfortable looking witches. The witches spread out, their medieval, crushed velvet gowns elegant and lovely, the exact opposite of the little number Destiny is sporting.

Oh, and when I say “little”, I’m lying.

Picture a zebra pantsuit, as painful as it sounds, and throw in a pair of polka dot hot pink boots. I know what you’re thinking, they don’t make that shit. I’m sure “they” don’t. Destiny, being the little creative stinker she is, must have dropped a few grand on the boots only to staple black leather circles to them. Don’t believe me? I can see the staples from here, fixed to the center of the dots so the edges flap like birds with broken wings as she races toward me.

She hangs tight to the pink cowboy hat on her head, the spray of feathers on the front fanning out like a giant turkey’s ass.

“Taran!” she says, waving madly with her free hand. “You didn’t get eaten!”

I point at her and make this clicking sound with my tongue. “Not yet, girl.”  

She throws her arms around me. “It’s great to see you, and Celia, oh, and Shayna, too.” She hooks a thumb. “Shayna is outside,” she says, dropping her voice. “But I’m afraid she and Koda are fighting. Something about a vampire head, and finding her standing over the vampire’s writhing body.” She thinks about it. “Or was she writhing and the vamp’s body standing?” She shrugs. “I couldn’t hear well over his growls.”

“Yeah, ah, rough night,” I say, glancing at Gemini who is unusually quiet.

His stare is intense and glancing ahead to where Aric appears to be arguing with the Elders. I can’t hear what’s being said, but we both see enough to know Aric isn’t happy.

“Where’s Emme?” Destiny asks, looking past me.

I turn to where Emme is standing directly behind me. She offers Destiny a wave. “Hi, Destiny,” she says. “It’s nice to see you.”

Destiny, bless her fashion faux pas heart, keeps her smile. “Wow. Look at you,” she says. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want to get anything on my new outfit.”

“I’ll bet,” I say.

Her smile softens. For what has to be the second time since I’ve known her, I get a peek at the human beneath all that crazy persona. “I really want to thank you, for stepping up and having my back. It means a lot.”

Gemini and I exchange glances. Like me, he doesn’t seem to know what the hell she’s talking about.

That’s when the crazy persona that is Destiny returns with a vengeance. “Haven’t you heard?” she squeals, jumping up and down and clapping. “You’re my new bodyguard.”