Thirty-four

A shower and a change of clothes later—which, surprisingly, included some completely normal worn jeans, fuzzy socks, a T-shirt, and a hoodie with a Dany’s logo on the back—Quinn followed Zaire through the pub storeroom, past kegs and shelves of bottles and canned goods to the main room where voices hummed. Her heart danced an annoying quick-fire beat. She shouldn’t be nervous. The scariest V’alkara ever held her hand, but she had no idea what to expect. After all this time of searching and wandering, she didn’t want to be disappointed.

Zaire paused before the entrance where the aroma of coffee and fresh-baked pastries beckoned. “Last chance, dearling. I’ll take you wherever you want.”

She clutched his hand in both of hers and leaned into him. “Too late. I smell food.”

“Very well.” He set his shoulders, and they stepped into the room together.

All conversation cut out, and every face turned their way.

Quinn gave a little wave. Not awkward at all.

Kalila sat at the bar beside Lydon, who had paused while stuffing a cinnamon roll into his mouth. Gwen played chess in a corner booth. Her opponent was a man with a shocking head of white hair—a direct contradiction to his young face. A blonde bombshell sat at another table with a man who had the V’alkara menace vibe going on. The redhead in his lap gave them a friendly smile. Braden must be hanging elsewhere with his new friend.

The first person to thaw the uncomfortable freeze was Kalila. She hopped off the barstool, her Doc Martens making a heavy thump. With Lydon right behind her, she met Quinn and Zaire at the entrance. “Welcome to Aisling.” Her tight-lipped semi-grin held a hint of a challenge. “Where our gates are always open to freaks and their sidekicks if they’re halfway nice.”

Quinn’s shoulders relaxed and she laughed. “I think we’re going to be friends.”

“Of course, you are.” The blonde woman joined them. “I’m Mel, the resident visionary.”

“I prefer Potential Destroyer of Future Happiness,” Lydon drawled, adjusting the sleeve of his black button-up.

Without looking, Mel thrust her elbow back into Lydon’s stomach. He smirked, but there was a vicious edge to it as if it wouldn’t take much for his playfulness to turn deadly. When his pale blue eyes locked on Zaire, they held only ice.

“That’s Ella, the owner of Dany’s.” Kalila hooked her thumb at the redhead. “And her husband, Dax, otherwise known as Blue.”

Ella fluttered her fingers in greeting as Dax nodded, his grim expression tight. The way he watched Zaire resembled a lion waiting for a tiger to attack.

A hairline tremor rolled through Quinn. Zaire was absolutely right. The V’alkara were all a click away from violence. She’d adjusted to being alone with Zaire and the dark, subtle caress of his essence, but these men together, gathered in one place, emitted crackling currents of power. They were their own force of nature, and it wasn’t hard to picture them as apocalyptic horsemen. United, they could burn the world.

Kalila continued with the introductions, and Quinn shrugged off the reflection. “And the illustrious Duhnle, new age leader and reformer of all miscreants, battles wits with Gwen over there.”

“Call me D,” the white-haired man said absently. He didn’t look up from the chessboard, his black eyebrows bunched in concentration while Gwen watched him with predatory intensity. His expression cleared, and he moved a piece. He lifted his gaze to Gwen and grinned.

Gwen huffed and plopped her elbows on the table, making all the pieces jump. “I hate this game.”

Quinn’s stomach squeaked noisily, and her face heated.

“Grab a cinnamon roll before this one inhales them all.” Kalila snared Lydon’s arm, holding him back as he longingly eyed the last two cinnamon rolls from afar. “There’s coffee, too.”

“Stupendous.” She headed for the barstools and tried not to drool.

“While you eat,” Kalila said, trailing a few steps behind, “Ella and I want to discuss a proposal with you.”

A low, savage growl rolled from Zaire. The air turned heavy, and all the shadows in the bar seethed. For a second, everyone paused and held their breath.

Lydon slipped ahead of Kalila, protectively putting himself between Zaire and his dreamcaster. Quinn instantly liked him better for it.

Recovering, Kalila narrowed her golden eyes at Zaire. “Feel free to listen in. This isn’t Alderwood, where everything’s secretive, and the wrong word will get you beaten. Or worse.” She arched a dark eyebrow in challenge. “Stick around long enough and you’ll figure it out.” She pivoted on her heel and headed for the bar. Wearing a smirk, Lydon followed her.

“I’m going for the food while it’s still there.” Quinn gave Zaire a sunny smile, and without waiting for his response, settled on the barstool beside Kalila. No way was his grumpiness and suspicion keeping her from homemade cinnamon rolls.

Zaire occupied her other side. He pivoted on the stool and faced her, loosely hemming her in with his knees, close enough that his heat licked her elbow. The possessive move awakened a fluttering in her stomach. She could hardly believe this wasn’t a dream, that he was actually here.

That he was hers.

Tomorrow. She gripped the word with both hands and tried not to squirm at the throbbing tingles in her body that made her forget all about the soreness. Forget tomorrow. She’d hold out until tonight, no longer.

“Cinnamon rolls personally handmade by up-and-coming chef, Dax.” Slipping around the bartender’s side of the counter, Ella pushed a plate-sized pastry her way.

The delicious aromas of sweet and spice hit Quinn so hard, she nearly moaned aloud. She tore off a chunk, stuffed it into her mouth, and the moan couldn’t be stopped. “Oh.” Chewing, savoring, she closed her eyes. “Ohhhhh.”

Zaire muttered something beneath his breath in that bone-rattling, otherworldly language.

“Since you’re speechless,” Kalila said dryly, “here’s what we’re thinking.” She angled Quinn’s way. “Dreamcaster school.”

Quinn nearly coughed up her mouthful, which would’ve been a waste of deliciousness. She managed to swallow without choking. “Dreamcasting for dummies?”

Kalila smiled for the first time, her brandy-gold eyes lighting up. “Exactly. Don’t tell me you haven’t ever wished for a reference manual or how-to guide.”

“I have the title already—Demons and How to Deal with Them.” Quinn leaned into Zaire’s tense chest. Even though he was close, she needed direct contact. When he relaxed slightly, and his arms went around her, she smiled. “Count me in.”

“Awesome. I think something big is happening, some sort of shift in the universe, and we need to be ready.” Kalila frowned and drummed her fingers on the glossy Cherrywood counter. “Not only is it a frickin’ miracle for three dreamcasters to be in the same room, we’re all also matched to extremely powerful V’alkara. Even Alun’s found his match, and he’s still basically a boy.”

“Which is probably for the best since his dreamcaster remains comatose.” Ella wiped at an imaginary spot on the counter as Dax leaned against the wall near her and folded his arms, a silent guardian gargoyle. “She’s my sister—Alun’s Sleeping Beauty.”

Quinn gave her a sad smile. Words, sometimes, were useless.

“D’s the only one here who hasn’t found his dreamcaster yet.” Kalila glanced over her shoulder at Duhnle.

“Thanks for reminding me,” he mumbled from the corner.

“And all this peace and love will put the Faction in a tizzy,” Lydon drawled, scraping leftover icing off his plate with a finger. Kalila’s focus locked on the slow slide of his long finger along the rim. “White’s devices might keep out rogue V’alkara, but the Faction will eventually find a way in.” Lifting his gaze to Kalila’s, he licked the frosting off his fingertip.

Quinn tugged on the neck of her hoodie, her face hot. The room temperature seemed to rise a few degrees.

“On that note.” Mel stopped a healthy distance away and fidgeted with her bubblegum pink sweater. As if realizing what she did, she slipped one hand into the pocket of her rhinestone-embellished jeans and boldly looked at Zaire. “I heard you killed some Faction members.”

Suspicion gleamed in his narrowed eyes, but he gave a curt nod.

“Did you,” she cleared her throat, “happen to know any of them?”

“They did not politely introduce themselves before attacking and injecting me with poison.” His tone was dry, but darkness vibrated in his voice.

“Just spit it out, Mel.” Kalila rolled her eyes.

“Was Izzy there?” Her blue eyes were bright, worry lines on her forehead.

Zaire’s eyebrow twitched. “They weren’t wearing nametags.”

Ella made an impatient noise. “Did any of them look like a cat that just ate the canary, wear a fedora, or have death-black hair?”

“And try to ice you, literally?” Kalila added.

“It was Montana in winter, and I don’t pay much mind to hats or the color of my enemy’s hair as they’re trying to slit my throat.” Zaire’s intent gaze remained on Mel. “I thought you were a prophetess.”

“Prophetess does not mean crystal ball.” Mel sniffed. “Unfortunately.”

His head cocked in that animal way, and the corner shadows shimmered. “Why do you inquire about the welfare of a Faction member?”

Quinn twined her fingers with his and held on tightly before they received an irreversible banishment from Ainsley. He squeezed her hand, and the darkness stilled.

“She’s crushing on Izzy,” Ella said in a singsong voice.

“Never mind. You’d remember him if he was there.” Mel’s eyes flashed as she turned away. “He’d make sure of that.”

“Rumors whisper that the Crows are working with the Faction.” Lydon’s smooth, lullaby voice held a question.

“I wasn’t requested to join their inner circle.” Zaire’s tone held the hint of a snarl. “But the Crows made no effort to hide that they have some manner of alliance with the Faction.”

His thumb made distracting circles on Quinn’s hand, undermining her weak patience. Getting through today without finding a door with a lock and dragging him in would take all her Carmichael willpower.

“They’re collecting V’alkara,” he continued, “gathering their forces.”

“Any dreamcasters?” White had slipped up so quietly, Quinn hadn’t noticed.

“Not where they quarantined me.” Zaire’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke slowly as if thinking something through. “The serum they used on me…a forensic scientist examined it.” His pause was heavy with implication. “He could not determine one of the ingredients.”

“You think it came from a dream.” Dax spoke for the first time, his gravelly voice making the quiet words sound harsh.

Quinn’s mouthful of cinnamon roll lost its flavor. If the ingredient came from a dream, then—

“They have a dreamcaster,” White said grimly, finishing her thought aloud. “And once they perfect their serum, we’ll be vulnerable.”

“I believe the Faction is preparing for war with the aid of the Crows, and the Crows believe they can win.” The growl in Zaire’s tone shivered through her. “I can’t imagine what incentive the Faction has offered, or why the Crows believe they’ll be allowed to survive.”

A heavy silence fell, thrumming with unanswered questions. The drum of approaching footsteps cut through the quiet, and the front door to Dany’s flew open.

“Quinn!” Braden’s yell barely gave her time to spin before he tackled her on the barstool. Only Zaire’s steady arms kept them from toppling to the floor in a heap.

At the distraction, the other V’alkara and dreamcasters wandered off, giving them some semblance of privacy. The last thing Braden needed was to overhear discussions of war.

Laughing, Quinn finally disentangled herself and held the boy’s face between her hands, forcing him to be still. His dark eyes shone, and the bruises had faded. His undiluted smile made every horror they’d gone through dissolve at the edges.

“Look who I found.” She jerked her chin at Zaire and grinned. “Your favorite uncle.”

“Yeah, right.” Braden rolled his eyes. “Uncle Zaire found you.” He slipped by her, grabbed the last cinnamon roll, and darted for the door. “Alun’s waiting.” He walked backwards, licking icing off his fingers. “He’s got the best comic book collection ever.” And he was gone again.

She met Zaire’s gaze. “I think he’s going to be fine.”

He scowled. “I just realized I’ve dropped another peg on the nephew totem pole.” His features softened and he pulled her close, his breath warm on her ear. “But I finally believe it’s possible,” he whispered, “that we’re all going to be fine.”