CHAPTER 2

Jackson’s face went white. But Rinaldo wasn’t quite finished with us yet.

“Be at the Carlton Gardens tonight at three,” he said. “That gives you enough time to view the damage you’ve done first. Oh, and if you contact PIT, there will be further consequences.”

The call ended, and Jackson immediately snatched the phone from my hands. He punched in some numbers, and after a few seconds the phone began to ring.

And ring.

Fuck.

I hoped with all my heart that it didn’t mean Shona was hurt or dead. She was one of Jackson’s lovers and the security specialist who, via the simple act of allowing us into an apartment to search for the missing research notes, had ended up with Rinaldo’s death sentence hanging over her head. I hoped it was simply a case of either her being unable to hear the phone or of the phone itself being out of range or dead.

Please, god, don’t let her be the dead one.

I raked a hand through my hair and met Jackson’s flat stare. Though there was very little in the way of emotion to be seen, the heat of his fury and fear washed through me like lava. “You should go—”

“You should both go,” Rory interrupted. “It could well be a trap of some kind. You need to protect each other’s backs.”

“But you’re not strong—”

“I’ll be okay,” he cut in again. “I have the fire and the burgers to fuel me, and then I’ll sleep. And you don’t have to be here to watch me do that.”

“I know, but—”

“Stop arguing and just go.”

“Fine.” I thrust up. “Jackson, I gather you know where Shona lives?”

His face was grim. “Yes. And if he’s hurt her . . .”

If he had, there wasn’t a whole lot we could do. Not immediately, anyway. I doubted he’d personally turn up for the meeting later; he’d have to know how angry we’d be, and how dangerous that could be.

I walked over to Rory and bent down to drop a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back by sunrise.”

He nodded. “Kick some butt for me.”

Jackson was already out the door. I picked up my coat and followed. “We should grab your phone on the way through—”

“We can’t afford to waste the time it’d take—”

“What we can’t afford,” I cut in, “is risking anyone getting Rory’s current location via the GPS on my phone. Which means I can’t ring PIT.”

I jumped into the car, started it up, then flattened the accelerator. Dust and stones sprayed out from the rear tires as the car launched forward.

“Why the fuck would we want to ring them?” he snapped. “Especially after Rinaldo’s warning?”

“Because Shona wasn’t the only one whose life was threatened the night we raided Rosen’s apartment.” Rosen had owned and run Rosen Pharmaceuticals, one of two private labs hired by the government to help find a cure for the virus. He’d been murdered by one section of the sindicati, but, unfortunately for the rest of us, he’d been infected by the virus, and had subsequently risen and come under Luke’s control. Whether he was still around and sane now that Luke was dead, I had no idea. PIT was leading the cleanup of the remaining infected and really didn’t believe in sharing that sort of information. I swung the car onto the main road. “The security guard’s life was also dependent on our good behavior, remember? We can’t be in two places at once, so, like it or not, PIT has to be informed.”

Jackson swore and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “I’d forgotten about the guard.”

“He doesn’t deserve to die just because Rinaldo thinks we’re not holding up our end of the deal.”

“Which we aren’t, given we haven’t handed him all the notes we found.”

“But how does Rinaldo know that?” Frustration bit through my voice. “Especially since we haven’t told anyone—including PIT—about either the USB we found in the locker or the suitcase notes we photographed but didn’t give anyone.”

“He’s an exceptionally strong telepath—”

“Which means fuck all when neither of us can be read,” I said.

“De Luca’s get were there when we found the suitcase of notes, remember.”

His get—vampires who’d undergone the blood ceremony with De Luca, and who subsequently owed allegiance to his lair on turning—might have been, but I doubted they’d paid too much attention to our reasons for being there. Not when their sole intention had been to kill us in retribution for De Luca’s death—a death we weren’t responsible for, as much as I might have wanted to be. That honor belonged to Frank Parella, a sindicati general and De Luca’s factional opposite.

And while some of his vampires might have been present when we’d found the research notes at Denny Rosen Junior’s place, they’d been arrested and carted away by the time we opened the case and discovered just how important its contents might be. While some of the notes had been virus related, for the most part they’d dealt with a rather startling discovery—James Wilson, who’d been working for Rosen Senior’s pharmaceutical company and who was one of the two scientists leading the charge to find a cure for the virus, had isolated the gene he believed responsible for vampirism and thought it might be possible to reverse the process.

If that was true, it was a discovery that could be worth billions to whoever held the information. And while neither of us had any intention of holding it to ransom, we also had no intention of letting it get into the wrong hands—such as those of the sindicati or Rinaldo.

“Yes,” I said, somewhat impatiently, “but we did hand over the unrelated notes from the case.”

“We handed those over to whoever got to our office first, whether that was Rinaldo or Parella,” Jackson all but growled. “Maybe Parella got there first, and that’s what has pissed Rinaldo off.”

“Maybe.” We’d certainly taken a risk by making that play, but we’d done it in the hope that either Parella and his vampires, or even the werewolves—whom we’d also notified—might catch Rinaldo in the act of retrieving the notes and take the bastard down for us.

I guess we should have known he wouldn’t be caught so easily.

Jackson scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be biting your head off when we both agreed it was our best option.”

“Well, not exactly.” I gave him a somewhat grim look. “I was the one who gave that ultimatum to Rinaldo. You agreed to it only after the fact.”

And if my impulsive action had caused Shona’s death, I would carry the guilt of it throughout this lifetime. But if there was one thing I’d learned over my lives, it was that good people sometimes paid the ultimate price, even if they were not directly involved in whatever fight or war was being waged.

Which didn’t excuse what I’d done or ease the guilt in any way.

We reached Seymour in record time, and, after Jackson had retrieved the phone from his old van, he made the call to PIT. Neither of us knew the security guard’s last name, let alone where he lived, so the only chance he really had of survival was for PIT to access his firm’s employment records for those details and then get there first. Had we had that information, I suppose we could have called the cops rather than PIT, and technically wouldn’t have breached Rinaldo’s warning. But would he care about technicalities? Somehow, I doubted it. Besides, I wasn’t about to send ordinary cops up against his men, not after they’d revealed themselves to be rather trigger-happy the one time we’d confronted them.

“Why didn’t you tell them Shona had also been threatened?” I asked once Jackson had hung up.

“Because she’s my responsibility, not theirs.”

And vengeance would also be his, his expression suggested, if the worst-case scenario eventuated.

I sent the car hurtling down the freeway, but even though I egged every ounce of speed I could from the engine, it still took more than thirty minutes to get to Craigieburn. The instinctive part of me that dreamed of death was screaming we were going to be late. I just had to hope this was one of those few times that part of me was wrong.

Shona lived in one of the newer estates in the area, which meant that—at this time of night—there wasn’t much activity, especially as there didn’t appear to be many other occupied houses in the immediate area.

“It’s number twenty-four, down at the end on the right.” Jackson’s voice remained flat and empty. But I could still feel the emotion he wasn’t showing—he was a volcano on the very edge of eruption. “She moved here only a few months ago. If she’d stayed in her rental in Carlton—”

“More people might be dead.” Because if Rinaldo was intent on a kill, being in a more heavily populated area certainly wouldn’t have stopped him.

But Jackson knew that as much as I did.

I switched off the engine and headlights, and allowed the car to coast down the slight incline. Shona’s house was opposite a rather wild-looking park and in between two streetlights—very handy for vampires intent on no good. The house was one of those ultramodern, dark brick and concrete constructions that seemed so popular of late. A Mazda sat in the driveway, and light peeked through the blinds shuttering one of the large front windows. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. It certainly wasn’t the battlefield I’d been expecting.

Maybe we had gotten here in time.

Maybe Rinaldo had gone after the less obvious target.

And maybe tomorrow the fae would gain wings and start flying just as they did in fairy tales.

I pulled on the hand brake to stop the car, avoiding the giveaway flash of red that would have come from the taillights had I used the main brake. If there were vampires here, it’d be a wasted effort, as they’d hear our heartbeats the minute we got close to the house, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Especially when we had no idea exactly who—or what—we were going up against.

I climbed out and walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle. The night was eerily quiet. Nothing moved, and there was little in the way of sounds. Even the rumble of traffic from the freeway, which was usually audible from quite a distance on still nights like this, seemed muted.

Can you sense anything?

No. Jackson paused. It’s situations like this that make me wish I were an earth or air fae. You got any weapons stashed in the car?

No. I hadn’t exactly intended to get into a firefight when I’d hired the damn thing, not when I had Rory to look after. How would either be an advantage right now?

Earth fae can sense the presence of others by their weight on the earth, and air fae can hear the whispers of breath on the wind. He paused. Sweat beaded his forehead, but I wasn’t entirely sure it was caused by the effort of communicating silently. Mind speech might remain difficult between us, but I suspected the sweat had more to do with the fury and fear that burned inside of him. Shall we split?

I hesitated. It made sense to split up, but I was reluctant to do so, if only because he’d need me close if those inner fires got the better of his currently tenuous control.

I’m okay, he said, obviously sensing my concern. It won’t get away from me.

Not until he had someone to unleash on, at any rate. But I kept that comment to myself and motioned to the right. I’ll tackle that side.

He nodded and moved toward the car that sat still and empty in the driveway. I scanned the front windows as I went right, but there wasn’t much to see other than the sliver of light lining either side of that one window. The other two also had blinds down, so if someone was inside, they’d have as little hope of seeing me as I did them.

Car is locked, but the hood is warm, Jackson said. She hasn’t been home long.

Meaning if the vamps had attacked Shona, they’d been here, waiting for her.

I grabbed the top of the fence that divided the front yard from the back and pulled myself up, pausing at the top to scan the nearby area. No shadows, no dogs, and no sense of the werewolves who should have been here.

Fire briefly flickered across my fingertips, tiny sparks that spun into the darkness and quickly disappeared. I flexed my hands as I dropped to the ground, trying to ease the tension. This time, it was all mine, not an overflow from Jackson. I walked to the first of three windows situated along this side of the house and, my back pressed against bricks still warm from the day’s sunshine, carefully peered inside. The room beyond was filled with boxes, some of them emptied, some of them still sealed with packing tape. There was no evidence of anything out of place or, indeed, any sort of fighting.

Maybe Rinaldo had been bluffing. Maybe he only intended to make us fear the possibility of death. But even as that thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. Everything we’d learned about the man—and that was little enough—suggested he wasn’t a vampire who pulled his punches.

Besides, if everything was okay, why hadn’t the werewolves appeared, asking us what the hell was going on? Baker—the alpha wolf of the city pack—had given them orders to protect Shona against any sort of attack, and that should have meant they’d at least question us.

I continued on, repeating the process with the next two windows. One was a study with a computer sitting on a small desk, and the other an empty room. I ducked past the last window and moved to the end of the building. The small yard beyond was empty and silent. I risked a quick look around the corner—and saw a small paved area, a large sliding door, and, closer to me, a laundry door.

Anything? I asked Jackson.

No. We need to go in.

Yes, we did. It was the only way we were going to discover what was going on. I’ll take the laundry door.

Wait for my mark, he said.

I edged around the corner. Once I’d reached the door frame, I tested the handle. It turned. And there was a smear of what looked like blood along one edge of the door.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come.

Right, Jackson said. Go.

I thrust open the door and went inside—only to be thrust backward as a shadow hit me so hard, we went tumbling out the door in a tangled mess of arms and legs. My back struck the paving, and my breath left in a wheezing rush of pain, but despite the stars flinging themselves across my vision, I had enough sense to throw up an arm. The teeth that were aimed at my neck ripped open my arm instead. Pain and anger rolled through me, and I flamed, instantly cindering the shadowed bastard on top of me. As his ashes rained around me, I scrambled upright and, in full flame form, arrowed for the back door.

Bullets tore into my fiery form but caused no harm. I flung a lance of fire into the laundry, swirling it around the open space but keeping it away from the walls and appliances. Someone screamed, the sound high-pitched and filled with pain, the tone feminine rather than male. She was in the corner, and though she was still partially hidden by shadows, her clothes were on fire. I extinguished her clothing but kept her leashed so she couldn’t go anywhere, and then moved on.

The sounds of flesh smacking flesh echoed through the otherwise still house. I followed the noise into the living area and saw Jackson battling two more vampires. Though his fists were aflame, he was using flesh rather than fire against both of them.

Beyond them, the back of her head resting in a pool of blood, was Shona.

I clenched my hands, battling the urge to do what Jackson had not, and instead wrapped both vampires in flame, containing them without burning. As I became flesh again, Jackson landed two final blows, shattering the mouth of one vampire and breaking the nose of the other. They both dropped like stones to the floor and didn’t move.

Nor did Jackson. He simply stood there, sucking in air, his entire body taut with tension and flames licking up his arms.

And while he was so very close to losing control and burning the house down around us, the fact that he hadn’t was a good sign.

“Imagine the fire is water and that you are a pump with a very empty inner well to fill.” Pain from both exertion and the wound on my forearm stabbed through me as I spoke. I glanced down. The heat of my flames had sealed the wound enough that blood was oozing out rather than pulsing, but it still hurt like blazes. I took a deep breath that did little to ease the deeper ache in my head, and continued. “Imagine your fire flowing like water into the well rather than letting it play across your body, then place a cap on it.”

As directions went, they were overly simplified, but sometimes such imagery was the only way to teach control, especially when dealing with those very new to their fire—which Jackson was, despite his being a fire fae.

He didn’t reply, didn’t even look at me, but after several moments, the flames retreated, until all that remained was the glow of heat across his fingertips.

He took another deep breath; then his gaze stabbed to mine, the green depths icy and furious. “Where the fuck are the werewolves?”

“I don’t know.” I moved past him and squatted beside Shona. Even though there wasn’t a chance in hell of her being alive given the state of her throat, I still felt her wrist for a pulse. Sometimes hope was rewarded against the greatest of odds, but this wasn’t one of those times. There was no life left in her, and her skin was already losing its heat.

I closed my eyes and did my best to stifle the wash of anger and guilt. I’d made my choices, chosen my path, and there was no way I could go back on that now.

And if I was honest, I’d probably make the very same decision if I did have the chance of doing it all again. If our plan had worked, if either the sindicati or the werewolves had taken care of Rinaldo as he’d retrieved the suitcase notes from our office, then not only would Shona, the guard, and even Rory have been that little bit safer, but one fewer player would have been after the missing research notes.

It had been worth the risk. It just hadn’t played out the way we’d hoped.

I pushed upright. “We have to call PIT in on this. We have no choice now.”

“Agreed.” Jackson’s gaze suddenly narrowed. “You’re injured.”

“It’s only a scratch.”

He snorted. “That so-called scratch is five inches long—I’m gathering he caught you by surprise?”

“To his cost, yes. But I’ve contained the second vamp in the laundry.”

“Then let’s go question her.”

“PIT will undoubtedly lock us out of the investigation once they get here,” I said, leading the way, “so that’s a damn good idea.”

The vamp snarled as we entered, revealing bloody canines. Obviously, she was the one who’d taken Shona’s life. Anger surged through me. I thrust it away, knelt down, wrapped my fingers around her neck, and then shoved her against the wall hard enough to dent the plaster. And she was damn lucky that was all I did. “Who sent you here?”

She swore, though the sound was somewhat strangled because the force of my grip was restricting her windpipe.

“Answer the question,” I growled, “because right now, all that stands between you and incineration is the possibility of information.”

She snorted. “Even a fire witch isn’t capable of that.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” And it was interesting she called me a fire witch rather than a phoenix. Whoever sent them here either didn’t know the truth, or simply didn’t care to inform them. “Last chance—who sent you here?”

“No one.”

“And that is one rather large lie.” Jackson crossed his arms as he leaned against the door frame. His expression was contemplative despite the waves of heat and anger rolling off him. “We could just burn her. Start with her toes, then maybe take out a leg. That might loosen her tongue a little.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” the woman snapped. “We’re under the protection of—” She cut the rest of the sentence off and clamped her lips shut.

“A little demonstration of our capabilities is definitely in order,” Jackson said. And it’s one, he added silently, that you’d better do. My control isn’t good enough right now, and while burning her might ease the rage a little, it wouldn’t be overly useful.

I glanced at the woman’s left leg and unleashed some fire. Flames shimmered down her jeans and danced across the tips of her shoes. As the smell of burning leather touched the air, the woman began to struggle, fighting my hold even as she flung her leg about in an attempt to smother the flames. Jackson moved past me and planted a rather large boot on her legs, stilling the movements.

“The woman inside—the woman you fed on and then killed—was my lover,” he growled. “So believe me when I say I’m barely resisting the urge to cinder you inch by tiny inch right now.”

The vampire’s gaze rose to his. For several seconds she didn’t say anything, but electricity buzzed around my senses. I smiled, though it held little in the way of amusement. She was trying to read him—maybe even trying to control him—and that meant she was older than she actually looked. Despite what humans generally thought, not all vampires were telepathic, and even for those who were, precise control was something they gained over centuries rather than decades. Of course, they also had to be very specific about what they wanted, and they certainly didn’t have carte blanche access to the mind.

Except, perhaps, for outliers like Rinaldo.

And even he couldn’t access or control either Jackson or me, because we were both immune to psychic invasion of any description.

Thank god.

I sent a flare of heat to my fingertips and lightly burned her throat. She hissed, and her gaze jumped back to mine. “Talk or find yourself in need of prosthetic limbs.”

“Or not,” Jackson said. “Personally, I’d prefer the latter. Especially since two of your three companions remain alive; maybe one of them will value their limbs more than you and will give us what we need.”

“If I do talk,” she growled, “will you let us go?”

Jackson snorted. “We’ll let you live. We might even let you keep your limbs. But that’s it.”

Her gaze darted between the two of us, and whatever she saw must have convinced her that was as good a deal as she was ever likely to get. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Who sent you here?”

“Rinaldo.”

No surprise there, given his phone call. “So are you one of his get, or do you simply work for him?”

She hesitated. “Neither. But he’s offered us his immediate protection and promised to approach the council on our behalf if we do as he asked.”

“But why would you need him to—” I broke the question off as realization dawned. “You’re one of De Luca’s get.”

“Yes,” she spat. “And it’s thanks to you that we’re currently in a very tenuous situation when it comes to the council and the other dens.”

“Tenuous” was putting it somewhat lightly. No master vampire ever wanted the spawn of another in his or her lair, and that generally meant vampires who lost the protection of their creator were little more than fodder for the rest of the vampire community.

Not that the community generally had much of a chance to play or feed on a rudderless den—the elders usually took swift action to end their lives. While the vampire council as a whole had little fear of humans—who for many elders were nothing more than a food source—they did fear the reaction of the rest of us. So they never allowed their numbers to get too out of control, and they kept a tight leash on who could and couldn’t start new dens.

“If you think Rinaldo will keep his word, you are more gullible than you look,” Jackson said.

She cast him a look that simmered with anger. “He’s our one hope of survival now that the council has issued an edict of den eradication. Rinaldo is all that stands between us and destruction.”

“Then I’d be prepared to meet your maker in hell,” Jackson said. “I doubt Rinaldo is sure enough of his position here in Melbourne to risk going up against the council.”

“And that is where you’d be wrong,” she said. “De Luca’s den was a large one. Add that to Rinaldo’s, and he has a sizable army at his back. Even the council will think twice.”

Rinaldo with an army at his back was not something I wanted to think about. “What can you tell us about your new master, then?”

She shrugged. “Not a lot. He offered us the deal, and we took it.”

“So you don’t actually know where he or his den is currently situated?”

“No.” She paused. “We had to prove our worth here before he’d offer us anything more.”

“What were you supposed to do after you’d killed Shona?” I asked.

Jackson twitched at the question, and his foot pressed that bit heavier on the woman’s leg. She lunged forward, catching me by surprise and getting within inches of Jackson’s leg before I thrust her back.

The flames that were dancing across her smoldering boots suddenly flared white, eating down into the leather and then into her toes. She screamed; the flames instantly retreated.

Jackson’s doing, not mine.

“Next time, I will cinder those toes rather than merely burning them.” Once again, his voice was deceptively mild. “Now, answer the damn question.”

Sweat dribbled down the side of her face. “We were supposed to meet him in the Carlton Gardens.”

Part of a welcoming committee, perhaps? I said, glancing up at Jackson. The niggly ache in my head flared a little brighter, but I wasn’t about to risk her passing any comment of mine on to Rinaldo. I had no idea if she was a strong enough telepath to communicate with him from this distance, but better safe than sorry.

Probably. But if he wants those notes, he needs us alive, so I don’t really see the point.

Maybe he just wants to hit home his message that we obey him or else. He seems the type. I returned my attention to the woman. “Is that it?”

She nodded. “He’s not the most communicative person, but then, most of the older ones aren’t.”

That was probably the most truthful thing she’d said all night.

“As I’ve told some of your den mates already, we didn’t murder De Luca.” I peeled a sliver of fire away from the rope corralling her torso and wrapped it around her neck. “Frank Parella took that honor.”

Her eyes narrowed. “He wouldn’t dare.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.” I released my grip on her and thrust upright. Her neck was burned and blistering, and I hoped it was as painful as hell. “It’s almost as if the sindicati generals haven’t spent centuries murdering their counterparts. Oh, and if you move, those ropes will burn you.”

She obviously didn’t believe me, because she threw herself sideways, teeth bared as she tried to slash open my leg. I didn’t move; I didn’t have to. My fiery leash immediately tightened around her throat and chest, and in an instant, she was gasping for breath.

“I did warn you,” I said, and walked away.

Only when I was back in the living room did I loosen the leash enough for her to breathe.

Jackson moved past me and squatted beside Shona. After gently closing her eyes, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“May your next journey in this world be filled with love, happiness, and a long life,” he said softly. “And as you move on, rest assured that your death in this lifetime will be avenged. That I promise you.”

I didn’t say anything, but I had everything crossed that it was a promise we could keep. “We have to call PIT. But we also need to find out what happened to the werewolves. Baker wouldn’t have gone back on his word; I’m sure of that.”

Jackson thrust to his feet. “Depends if he got a better offer.”

“Who from? He’d already refused Rinaldo’s offer of a partnership, and it’s hardly likely the sindicati or the rats would pay him to back away from our deal given they want information about Rinaldo just as much as everyone else.”

Especially after Rinaldo had raided several of the rat shifters’ main underground gambling operations here in Melbourne.

“Good point. I’ll go outside and see if I can find the wolves. You ring PIT.” He tossed me his phone, then turned and headed outside.

I opened the contacts list and pressed the chief inspector’s number. It was a direct line, and, as far as I knew, we were the only ones outside the organization who had it. Hopefully, that meant it was secure.

The phone rang several times; then a somewhat plummy and decidedly unfeminine voice said, “Chief Inspector Henrietta Richmond speaking.”

“Inspector, Emberly Pearson here.”

“Indeed,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“Jackson made a call about a security guard in need of protection—”

“And he’s been checked and is secure,” she cut in. “We have temporarily relocated him.”

I closed my eyes. At least I hadn’t gotten two innocent people killed. But a rather unkind part of me wished the situation had been reversed—that it was Shona who was alive rather than the guard. Because of Jackson, because he’d cared for her—at least as much as any fae was capable of caring.

“That’s good news,” I said, “but I’m afraid he wasn’t the only possible victim. And we weren’t in time to save the second one.”

“What?” The inspector’s voice was cold. “Why didn’t Jackson give us this information when he made the initial call?”

“Because the woman in question was his lover,” I said.

“That is no excuse.”

Maybe it wasn’t, but our decision to come here ourselves was nevertheless one I stood by. I rubbed a hand across my eyes. The ache in my head was getting worse. I needed rest and I needed fire, and I wasn’t likely to come by either anytime soon. “We have the murderers in custody. They’re from De Luca’s get, and the whole den is currently working under the orders of Rinaldo.”

“And once again that bastard’s name crops up,” she said. “Are you aware he sent us a goddamn note the day after the events in Brooklyn?”

“No.” I frowned. “Why would he do that? And what did the note say?”

“Who knows why he did it—maybe he simply likes tugging the panther’s tail.” She laughed, a humorless sound filled with frustration. “And the note simply said, ‘The king is dead. Long live the queens.’ It was signed with a rather ornate R.”

My frown deepened. “What does he mean, ‘queens’? Or is it simply a spelling mistake?”

“I very much suspect every move Rinaldo makes involves very, very careful planning—even when it comes to something as simple as a taunting note.”

“And you’re sure it’s from him?”

“As sure as I can be. The only people who are fully aware of what really happened in Brooklyn were my senior advisers and you.”

“And you trust your senior staff?” I asked.

“With my life.” It was coldly said. Obviously, it didn’t pay to question the loyalty of her people. “Give me the address, and I’ll send a team over.”

I did so, then added, “We have a meet with Rinaldo tonight.”

“Do you want backup?”

Fuck yes, I wanted to say, because while I might be a fire spirit, I was neither stupid nor entirely immortal. I could die in this lifetime, which would be damn dangerous when Rory wasn’t yet up to full strength and might struggle to call my ashes to him.

But Rinaldo’s warning kept the words locked inside. “No. Besides, isn’t PIT stretched to its limits at the moment?”

“Yes, especially after the mess you made of Brooklyn.” There was no hint of censure in her voice. While she might not have given official approval for our actions there, she’d certainly been well aware of our plans and had made no move to stop us. “Which reminds me, I need you and Jackson to meet me there later today. Several fires continue to burn out of control, and we need you to go in there to see what the hell is going on.”

I frowned. “After three days of uncontrolled burning, I can’t imagine there’d be much of the place left. And why don’t you just water bomb the entire area?”

“Believe me, we’ve tried, but there’s a magical barrier of some kind protecting that particular section. The water just sluices off it.”

“So what makes you think I’ll be able to do anything?”

“Intuition.”

“I have no knowledge of magic, Inspector.”

“Perhaps, but you have very intimate knowledge of fire. You can go places the rest of us cannot.”

“You’d still be better off calling in a witch.” They’d at least be able to circumvent the spell, even if they couldn’t entirely unravel it.

“We’ve tried that.” Frustration edged her matter-of-fact tone. “But the spell’s source is situated within Brooklyn. So again, we can do nothing more until you get in there and uncover what is going on.”

I blew out a breath. We really didn’t need additional work on top of everything else, but it wasn’t like we actually had a choice. I had no doubt the inspector would force us there at gunpoint if necessary. “What time do you want us there?”

“What time is your meeting with Rinaldo’s people?”

“Three.”

“It would be preferable if we could access the place at dawn. The cloaks are less likely to be active at that hour, but it will still be dark enough that we should be able to avoid overt interest from the public.”

Not to mention the press. Though I’d kept away from both the TV and newspapers over the last few days, I could imagine they’d had a field day speculating what had happened in Brooklyn. Especially since PIT wouldn’t have told anyone but senior government officials the truth.

But meeting the inspector at dawn meant leaving Rory unprotected for an even longer period, and I wasn’t willing to do that. I needed to check that he was safe, that he was refueling his spirit on the flames and his flesh on the food. And nothing, not the red cloaks or Brooklyn or even revenge, was more important to me than he was.

“I’m sorry, Inspector, but I can’t.”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “Why not?”

“Because of what I am, and because there are certain matters—certain responsibilities—I cannot escape.”

“Which tells me nothing.”

“It tells you more than you know.” And it was all I was willing to say. I had no idea just how much PIT knew about either Rory or me, or even phoenixes in general, but from the bits and pieces Sam had mentioned, it was obviously more than most. But I was betting what they didn’t know still far outweighed what they did, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Especially when I was pretty convinced there was a mole somewhere in their organization.

I’d initially thought it had been Rochelle—Sam’s lover, and a PIT operative who, like him, had been infected by the Crimson Death virus. And while Sam had never been under the control of the hive or his brother, Rochelle’s position had been a little more tenuous. She had, in fact, killed herself rather than be forced to turn on both Sam and PIT. And for a dark fae, that was a pretty desperate action.

But Rinaldo had also intimated that he had a line into PIT. Whether that was true, I had no idea, but right now, with Rory so weak, I was taking no chances.

“I’m sorry, Inspector, but I have no choice.”

“It would seem that I don’t, either, short of dragging your ass there personally.” She paused, and a hint of amusement crept into her voice as she added, “And after that rather impressive demonstration in Brooklyn, I suspect that might not be possible. Or even wise.”

Surprise ran through me. I’d been expecting a threat rather than a backing down. “You could be right.”

“Meet me tomorrow evening, then—nine should do. The peak-hour traffic will be gone by then, and the area will be quiet.”

“Fine. But send the fire brigade away. I don’t need any more witnesses than necessary.”

“Nor do we,” she said heavily. “The crew will be at your location in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks.” I hesitated. “Have you got Jackson’s blood results back yet?”

“I chased it up with the lab yesterday. I’m assured they’ll have them to me within the next day or so.”

Meaning we’d soon know if the virus had been burned from his system.

“Thanks,” I repeated, and hung up.

I bent down and checked the two vamps Jackson had knocked out for signs of awareness, but both were still unconscious. I tightened their leashes anyway, then headed out the now-broken front door. The night remained quiet, and the moon was hidden behind a bank of clouds. What few stars could be seen were unusually muted. It was almost as if they’d dimmed their brightness in respect for the death in the room behind me.

I couldn’t see Jackson anywhere, and if he was moving about, then he was doing so quietly. You found anything?

Pain slithered through my head even as I asked that question—a sharp warning that using our connection was indeed taking a toll. Nevertheless, it was stronger—more reliable—than it had been a few days ago, and that meant it was still gaining strength. It made me wonder just how far it would go—would we, perhaps, be able to do more than merely mind talk? Would we perhaps be able to sense the other’s presence, no matter where that person was? Rory and I certainly had that capability, though it was one we rarely needed or used.

Jackson didn’t reply, but after a few minutes, he appeared from the house next door. “Sorry for not responding, but all the mental talking is giving me one hell of a headache.”

“Did you find the wolves?”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand across his chin, the sound like rough sandpaper. “Baker isn’t going to be happy.”

“They’re dead?”

“Not just dead, but absolutely torn apart. I found a dart near one of the bodies. The poor bastards didn’t have a chance.”

I thrust a hand through my hair. “How the fuck did Rinaldo know about the werewolf guards?” Because he had to have, if his men had come here prepared with darts.

“Baker either has a spy in his midst, or his office is bugged.”

“I can’t imagine it’d be a spy. He’s dealt with vampires for years; he’d be well aware of their tricks.”

By the same token, I couldn’t imagine he’d be naive enough to believe no one would bother bugging him. Not when it seemed to be a very common practice here in Melbourne. The lab I’d worked for—as well as many other private organizations that had governmental links—was regularly swept of bugging devices.

“We need to ring him.” Even as I said it, I pulled the phone out and did it. The minute he answered, I said, “It’s Emberly Pearson, and I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

He was silent for a moment, and then said, “My men are dead, aren’t they?”

“Yes. And they were darted before they were killed. Someone knew they were watching Shona and came prepared.”

“Who did you tell?” His voice was flat, angry, but whether the anger was directed toward us or was because of the loss of his men, I couldn’t say.

“No one. Not even PIT knew.”

“Suggesting I have a leak in my own organization. I’d feared that.”

“Rinaldo seems to have a finger on the pulse of all the major players in this city,” I said. “But he’s an extremely strong telepath, so it might simply be a matter of reading the mind of someone close to you.”

“Just as telepathic wolves are a rare find, it’s also rare for wolves to be telepathically invaded. We are somewhat immune.” He was silent for a second, and then said, “I’ll check, however. Thank you for the call, and please remember to pass on any information you get on this bastard.”

He hung up. I blew out a breath. “Rinaldo is dead meat if Baker ever gets his hands on him.”

“That can be applied to us, PIT, the rats, and whomever else Rinaldo might have crossed.” Jackson caught my hand, tugged me close, and kissed me. It was as much about grief as an affirmation of life. After a few moments, he added, “What did PIT say when you called?”

“A crew will be here shortly.”

“Good, because we need to get moving if we’re to meet Rinaldo on time.”

I hesitated. “I don’t really think—”

“Do not try to stop me from coming along.” His expression was hard. Determined. “Because you know that’s not going to happen.”

“But he won’t be at the meeting. He won’t risk it.”

“I don’t care. I’ve already lost Shona. I’m sure as hell not going to risk losing you.”

I smiled and brushed my fingers down his cheek. “I have one advantage over Shona, remember.”

“The point remains.” He took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder as the sound of a siren began to invade the night’s stillness. “We should tie our captives up more conventionally. Just because your ex and Richmond knows we’re fire capable doesn’t mean the rest of them need to.”

“Does Shona keep rope or wire anywhere?”

“No, but I saw some packing tape in one of the open boxes. I’ll grab that.”

He did so. We taped all three up and, given the woman’s proclivity for biting people, shoved several additional layers over her mouth.

PIT arrived a few minutes later. I didn’t know either of the operatives, and they certainly didn’t say much. Once they’d checked our IDs—both our driver’s licenses and the associate badges PIT had handed us just before the Brooklyn battle—we were allowed to go.

Jackson immediately left the house, but I hesitated. “Watch the female vampire. She has a nasty habit of using her teeth.”

The taller of the two women flashed me a grin. “I doubt she can even open her mouth with the amount of tape you’ve wound over it, but she’s most welcome to try.”

Considering the anticipatory edge to that comment, if my former captive had any sense, she’d be a model of good behavior. But I had a vague suspicion she wouldn’t.

“Oh, and before I forget,” she added, “the inspector said you might need some weapons—you’ll find them in the trunk of our car. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

I nodded and headed out. There was a veritable arsenal in the trunk of the car, and not just guns, but silver knives, good old-fashioned stakes, and several vials of what I presumed was holy water. I grabbed a small backpack and shoved in half a dozen semiautomatics, ammunition, two knives, and some of the holy water. The inspector might not have literally meant “help myself,” but I wasn’t about to forgo the chance to be fully armed. Not when every other bastard after us seemed to be fully kitted up.

Jackson had jumped into the driver’s seat, so I tossed him the keys and placed the backpack on the backseat.

“What’s that?” He started the car up and drove off.

“A mini armory, courtesy of the inspector.”

“You know, I’m actually starting to like that woman.”

I snorted. “I’ll like her more if she actually keeps her word and lets us walk away once this is over. Until then, I’m reserving judgment.”

“Well, at least we now have more of a chance of walking away from tonight.”

“Not to mention something to fall back on if the witch is present and our fire fails.”

It didn’t take us all that long to get into the city. At this hour of night, the traffic was light, even when we’d pulled off City Link and made our way down Flemington Road to Victoria Street.

Jackson slowed the car as we neared the gardens. “Did Rinaldo say where we were supposed to meet him?”

“No, but the old fountain is the most logical place. People have been meeting there for years.”

“I’m not entirely sure Rinaldo applies logic the same way as the rest of us.” Jackson pulled into one of the empty parking spots and killed the engine.

“That’s to be expected, given he’s a very old vampire. He doesn’t see the world the same way you and I do.”

Jackson’s grin flashed, and though it was a somewhat pale imitation of its usual self, I was nevertheless glad to see it. “I’m not sure that sentence applies, as you’re vastly older than I am and fae in general think very differently to most.”

A smile touched my lips. “You could be right. After all, you’re not only a fae but also a male. And it’s a well-known fact just what occupies a male’s thoughts every seven seconds.”

“That claim has repeatedly been proven false.” He leaned forward and crossed his arms over the steering wheel, his gaze on the park. “Though in my case, it is quite possibly true. I can’t see any movement beyond the two possums arguing at the base of that elm.”

“If there are vampires there, we wouldn’t see them anyway.” My gaze swept the shadows gathered around the trunks of the century-old elm trees. The moon might have finally escaped the cloud cover, but much of its silvery light wasn’t getting through the thick canopy of greenery. It was the sort of cover vampires intent on no good just adored. “How do you want to play this?”

“Straight.” He reached for the backpack. “If Rinaldo has arranged a vampire-greeting party, we’re better off protecting each other’s backs.”

I glanced at the time. Ten to three. “I guess there’s no point in delaying the inevitable. Let’s get this over with.”

I accepted one of the guns and some ammo, then climbed out. As I strapped on the weapon, Jackson slammed his door shut. The sound echoed across the stillness, and the two possums scurried up separate trees.

Jackson paused beside me. “Ready?”

“No, but it’s not like we have a choice.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets, my gaze moving past the bollards that separated the street from the wide path that led directly to the old French fountain. It was a warm beacon of light at the very end of a long arch of tree branches and shadows. No one appeared to be waiting for us, but the stillness now ran with tension, and not all of it was coming from the two of us.

Someone—or something—was definitely out there.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Jackson murmured, and strode purposefully toward the fountain.

I hastily caught up with him, my gaze sweeping the surrounding area and looking for some sign of movement. But there was absolutely nothing to indicate there was anything or anyone out of place in the park.

Nothing except that gathering wave of tension.

Our footsteps echoed across the night, Jackson’s—for all his size—far softer than mine. Heat burned across my fingertips, and I clenched my hands tighter, not wanting the glimmer to show through the layers of the coat’s pockets.

We were about halfway down when energy began to crawl across my skin, its touch foul and dark.

Can you feel that? Pain lanced through my brain as I said it, but it was a warning I ignored. I had no idea what would happen if I kept pushing this developing talent of ours, but right now I had no other option. I couldn’t voice the question out loud—I had no desire to inform whoever might be waiting out there that I could feel the caress of their spell.

He glanced at me, a frown creasing his forehead and a glimmer of pain gathering in the brightness of his eyes. Feel what?

Magic, I said. It has the same feel as the stuff that was used in Brooklyn.

I have no sense of it, but we did theorize that Luke’s witch might be a Rinaldo plant.

I’d certainly theorized that, but I hadn’t realized he’d caught those thoughts. If it is, then we should be protected.

We’d be protected, theoretically, because of the spell blockers we’d gotten from Grace Harkwell, the witch who’d asked us to find her missing friends. While said blockers resembled simple, multicolored string necklaces, they’d been designed to counteract any spell created to either restrict our fire or stop my access to the earth mother. It had certainly worked brilliantly in Brooklyn; I just had to hope it did so here.

But this spell had a stronger feel than that one. The witch had obviously amped things up in an effort to negate a possible repeat of the Brooklyn events.

Even if that is the case, it shouldn’t affect me, Jackson said. I’m not a phoenix.

No, but your fire is phoenix sourced, so that may not necessarily be true.

He grunted and continued on. The closer we got to the fountain, the stronger the spell became, until it felt like I was walking through a wall of razor blades that tore at my skin and sliced through my brain. Then warmth flared around my neck and the sensation fled. Grace’s charm, once again coming to my aid.

I continued to keep a tight leash on my flames, not allowing even the slightest flicker to escape. I’d done exactly the same thing in Brooklyn, so the witch might well be aware of the ploy, especially since he’d ramped up the strength of his magic. I wasn’t about to give him any indication that once again it wasn’t working.

I returned my attention to the gorgeous old fountain ahead, and awareness surged. Someone was there. I could feel them, even if I couldn’t see them.

As we drew closer, the musical splash of water began to break the silence, but not the tension gathering within me. I clenched my fists tighter, fighting not only my desire to become fire, but the beating pulse of Jackson’s heat as well. And yet, there was no sign of fire. Not even a spark. He was containing it, but now the question was, for how long?

“Stop,” a gruff, decidedly male voice said.

It was coming from the fountain, from the presence I could feel but not see.

And it wasn’t Rinaldo.

More fucking magic, Jackson said as we both stopped. But I guess it’s confirmation that Rinaldo has a witch working for him.

And that’s something I really don’t want confirmed. Out loud, I said, “Reveal yourself, witch. Or would you prefer I call you Frederick?”

“You can call me whatever you like, but using my name is always preferable.” Amusement edged the gravelly tone. “As to revealing myself—why would I give you that sort of advantage since you know nothing more than my first name?”

“Actually,” I said, “we’ve also seen your face, when you were running for the helicopter.” I paused. “Which we subsequently blew up. How the hell did you escape?”

“Luck and good planning, my dear—both of which I think you need more of.” The amusement was deeper now. “But that is neither here nor there. I’m here to deliver a message.”

“We’ve already got Rinaldo’s message,” Jackson growled. “We don’t need another.”

“Ah, but I’m afraid he begs to differ. It would appear you have learned nothing, as you went against orders and called in PIT.”

“We could hardly do anything else,” I said, “given we’re PIT operatives.”

Surprise rippled across the night. “Are you now?”

“Yes, and we have the goddamn badges to prove it.” Flames shot out from Jackson’s hands as he spoke, reaching with eager fingers for our unseen foe. They hit the barrier the witch was using to conceal himself, and flared across its surface, briefly revealing a thin, shadowed form inside a domelike structure before fading away.

“Interesting,” Frederick said. “As is the fact your flames are not contained.”

Jackson’s grin flashed, though it held little in the way of humor. “No, they’re not. But then, I’m a fire fae. A spell designed to contain Emberly will do little to me.”

“I didn’t think fire fae were capable of creating fire.”

“Then you do not know as much as you thought.”

“Evidently.” His gaze came to me, something I felt rather than saw. “I’m gathering, then, that my magic has had a similar lack of effect on you?”

“Why don’t you drop that shield and find out?”

He laughed. “Thanks, but no. I’ve seen what you’re capable of; I have no wish to feel it.”

“You’re presuming that little bubble of yours will actually stop me. That could be a big mistake.”

“It stopped you in Brooklyn when it was protecting Luke—at least until he foolishly stepped on metal—and that spell had half the strength of this. But by all means, test away.”

I didn’t, if only because he wanted me to.

“However,” he continued, “all that is an aside, and it does not change the purpose of this meeting.”

“Why are you delivering the message?” I said. “Why isn’t your boss here?”

“Who says he isn’t?”

I resisted the urge to look around me. “Because while Rinaldo may be many things, stupid isn’t one of them. He wouldn’t risk appearing when you cannot absolutely guarantee your magic will restrain my flames.”

“True, especially since he can be present without being here physically.”

“What is it with witches speaking in goddamn riddles?” Jackson growled. “Tell us what he wants, and then get the fuck on with whatever else is planned.”

“He wants De Luca’s notes when you find them, and he wants the satchel notes you found—”

“He could have already had those,” I cut in. “He just needed to get to our office before the sindicati.”

“Yes, except that was nothing more than a trap. As you said, he is not stupid.” The amusement was stronger this time. “You have twenty-four hours to provide those notes.”

“Or what?” Jackson said.

“Or,” the witch said blithely, “we will unleash red plague hell on this city.”