We sat quietly for a moment, sipping our whiskeys, until Josh asked, “Is there anything you can think of that might explain where the magic came from?”

I shook my head. Considering I’d used the mysterious magic to kill Lucas Reed, I doubted he’d been the source. He’d felt it coming before I had, and he’d been just as surprised. The memory of all that power suddenly coursing through me, inflaming every nerve of my body, made me shudder. Thanks to Josh, the magic had been reduced to a faint, dark vibration that hummed in my body like a ringing in my ear, a constant reminder that something in me had changed.

“Someone sent you that magic, or you somehow intercepted it,” he said with a wary look. “Your body didn’t know how to absorb that much raw magic, at first.”

“How did you get rid of it?” I asked.

He considered for a moment, frowning at his whiskey. “I helped your body absorb it. I didn’t have time to do anything else,” he added in a defensive rush, closely watching my reaction.

I swallowed my suspicion, for the moment. “This wasn’t an accident.”

“No.”

“I’m being set up,” I stated.

He lifted his tumbler in semblance of a shrug, causing the ice to clink against the glass. “I suspect we’ll hear from your anonymous donor soon enough. I’ll ask around and see what I can come up with. Do some research. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to figure out the potential of your new abilities.”

I scowled. “Playing with Ethos’s magic isn’t reckless enough for you?” I downed the last of my whiskey and set the empty tumbler on the coffee table. “You’re going to teach me the ritual to take Ethos’s magic from Sky, and then you’re going to demonstrate it on me.”

He leaned back into his chair. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

I grunted. “Which one?”

“Both, but for different reasons. I’ll teach you the ritual, but I think removing this magic from you is a mistake.”

“Of course you do.”

His lips bent into a disgruntled frown. “What do you think will happen when the owner of that magic comes looking for it and finds out we’ve destroyed it?”

“A convenient rationale,” I said bitterly.

Josh gestured broadly as he said, “I’m just considering all the angles. Isn’t that what you do?”

I suppressed a growl as I scrutinized my brother. If his theory was correct, having the magic in my possession gave me a bargaining chip—or made me a target. Giving the magic up might make me a target as well. As much as I didn’t like the conclusion, he was making sense. “Teach me the ritual.”

Josh gave me a long, sideways look, then set his tumbler aside and began gathering the items needed. While the ritual wasn’t complicated, it took me several dry runs before I felt confident. The more I focused, the more aware I became of the mysterious magic inhabiting my body, as steady and annoying as a ringing in my ear. After the last run-through, I gathered the necessary items into a bag and Josh transported me to my BMW parked a block away from Sky’s house.

Behind the wheel, I picked up my phone from the passenger seat and discovered two voice mails. The first was from Claudia, reminding me to visit her. Though she didn’t press the matter, I could feel the subtle urgency in her voice. The second call was a somber one, from the nurse at Twilight Harbor.

Miriam was family. I should’ve been there when she died. I shook my head, reminding myself, If I’d been with Miriam, Sky would be dead. But Lucas Reed should’ve never been a problem. If I hadn’t allowed her to keep Ethos’s magic, there wouldn’t have been a crisis in the first place. I couldn’t shake my anger at Sky, but I shared the responsibility.

I called the nurse, instructing her to contact the funeral home where Miriam had previously made her arrangements. The home would handle everything. Judging by the shocked tone of the nurse’s response, I presumed that she found my seeming lack of emotion offensive, but we didn’t share the same frame of reference. The supernatural world was a dangerous place. People around me died all the time, often by violent means and while at the peak of their potential. With Miriam, I felt the small absence in the world of a face I would never see again, a voice I would never hear, but we’d never been close. She’d made sure of that.

Claudia’s gallery was a large brick building just off the city’s main street. Noticing Sky’s Honda Civic parked outside triggered a rush of anger. At one time, her recklessness had been easily attributable to her lack of familiarity with our world. Her mother had died giving birth to her, leaving her to be raised by an adopted mother with no knowledge of the supernatural. Sky had grown up believing that her animal was a lonely curse, to be suppressed and shunned. But she’d spent the last two years with the pack—enough time to absorb the pitfalls and dangers of our way of life, enough time to appreciate just how dangerous magic could be.

Still, I couldn’t escape my own culpability, and the sinking feeling in my stomach as I schemed to take Ethos’s magic from her. It has to be done, I reminded myself. The sooner the better. Lucas Reed wasn’t the only threat out there; he’d just been the first to find her. She’ll understand it was for her protection, I decided. Eventually.

I let out a slow breath, forcibly suppressing my anger and frustration and replacing it with a facsimile of calm, then went inside.

Claudia’s gallery showcased Chicago’s most sought-after artists. Exquisite modern and abstract art dotted the textured white walls. Sculptures and installations were generously placed throughout the gallery, intermingled with uniquely styled benches and sofas placed for optimal viewing.

As I walked in, I noticed Sky standing in front of her favorite painting. It was the one piece of art Claudia refused to sell, and Sky was obsessed with obtaining it. Her home was tastefully decorated with the fruits of her failure, as Claudia had skillfully converted each plea into a purchase of some other piece of artwork. I smiled. My godmother was a beguiling salesperson as well as a gifted artist. She claimed the painting was inspired by the relationship between my brother and me, but I only saw a passing resemblance.

Sky was so engrossed in the painting that she failed to notice as I stopped just behind her. I found myself scrutinizing it over her shoulder, wondering just what it was that fascinated her. The smaller of the two boys, with short ruffled hair, appeared angelic as he slept peacefully, while the other boy knelt protectively nearby. His brown hair was flecked with gold. His gaze was somber and intense, displaying a wariness beyond his years as he watched over his sleeping brother, unaware of the looming shadow behind them.

The shadow remained an inexplicable curiosity of the painting. Perhaps Claudia had attempted to convey something she’d seen of my future—aside from being a powerful empath, she could also see the potential future of someone she touched. I’d never asked her for an explanation. Josh and I were careful not to press her about her abilities, or to take advantage of them. If she’d seen something I needed to know, she’d tell me.

“Why this one?” I asked, surprising Sky.

She turned slightly, taking a quick breath as she noticed my proximity to her, then shrugged. I moved to stand close beside her, silently observing the portrait with her as I considered my options. To perform the ritual, I needed to be with her alone, in a space where interruption was unlikely. I needed her to be comfortable and to let her guard down.

Her house, I decided.

“Let’s have dinner tonight,” I announced.

She scoffed, turning from the portrait to give me an indignant look, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “No.”

“No?” I grinned. “Why not?”

“I don’t like being lied to or threatened, and every time we’re together you do one or both. So, no, I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk,” I said indifferently, noting the increase in her heart rate as I sidled closer to her. “I am giving you an opportunity to do that and I will answer any questions you may have.”

She scrutinized me, her curiosity piqued. “You will answer them truthfully and promise not to give me any of those silly lies of omission that you are so fond of?”

I nodded. I’d give her whatever honesty I could, but there were limits, lines I wouldn’t cross. She remained skeptical, but I knew she couldn’t resist the opportunity.

“I’ll see you at eight,” I stated.

She countered quickly. “I will meet you at Gigio’s at six.”

I raised an eyebrow. Was she that distrusting of me? Before I could ask why she insisted on a public meeting, I noticed Claudia approaching. “I will be at your house at eight with dinner,” I stated softly, then turned to greet my godmother. She appeared impeccably dressed, wearing long, elegant gloves that matched her peach pantsuit. Her delicate brown curls, usually up in a tight bun, were now loose, just brushing the top of her shoulders.

“If I am going to be subjected to your inquisition,” I explained to Sky, “I do believe privacy is necessary.”

“Ethan, I’m so glad to see you,” Claudia said in her metropolitan South African accent.

I smiled, greeting her with my customary air kiss over each cheek. Given her empathic abilities, it would be considered an intrusion to touch her skin without permission. While her abilities made physical affection challenging, she’d never been emotionally distant, like Miriam.

“You have to promise to visit more. Brunch Sunday, okay?” she suggested.

“Sunday will be great.” I made a quick mental note to rearrange my schedule.

Claudia smiled at Sky. “You should join us.”

“Of course,” she answered with a cloying smile; she’d no intention of attending. If Claudia noticed, she didn’t appear to be offended.

“Wonderful,” she beamed, then leaned forward to offer Sky an affectionate half embrace. Surprisingly, their cheeks pressed together. At first I thought it was a mistake on Sky’s part. Instinctively, I started to intervene, but Claudia purposely held their contact for a moment—a rare courtesy for her. Was she expressing her affection for Sky, or reading her? My godmother rarely used her abilities, except in times of great need. It was hard on her. To offer herself willingly was unusual.

After a moment, she broke the embrace, beaming as she gathered Sky’s hands into hers. “Your lovely friend is becoming one of my favorite patrons,” she informed me. “Her curiosity is inspiring. I see why you’re so fond of her, she is quite charming.”

Sky’s eyes widened in surprise at me.

“I am quite fond of her,” I repeated. “And her curiosity, if nothing else, is quite … charming.” My sardonic tone was met with a slight flare of her nostrils.

“Ethan,” Claudia said, “I’d like a word with you in my office, if you have a moment.”

“Of course.” I said, following her. I grinned over my shoulder at Sky, taking pleasure in her vengeful smile.

Claudia’s office was a private continuation of the gallery. Original artwork overlooked an antique cherrywood writing desk complete with an old-fashioned pen and inkwell, a mother-of-pearl chaise couch, and a pair of hand-carved wooden chairs on either side of a tea table. Claudia turned in front of her desk, observing me with an empathetic look.

I closed the door behind me.

“I’m sorry about Miriam,” she said.

“Thank you.”

We waited for each other to speak further. It was a game we both played with others, using silence to draw them out. She scrutinized me, as if searching for something. Could she feel the change in me?

“Did you have a chance to talk with her?” she finally asked.

“The dementia made conversation … challenging.”

She gestured an invitation toward the table. When we were seated across from each other, she leaned toward me, clasping her hands in front of her. “The distance she kept from you and from others was harder on her than you realize.”

That wasn’t a conversation I needed to have. I’d long since come to terms regarding Miriam’s emotional distance. Still, I listened patiently out of respect for my godmother.

“She didn’t tell you,” she realized, disappointed.

“She was not coherent.”

Claudia sighed. “As you are aware, our world is full of secrets, some more dangerous than others. I never told you because it wasn’t my secret to tell. But if she wasn’t able to, then I am the only one who can.” She reached out and placed a gloved hand on mine. “You’ve probably noticed something different about yourself since her passing.”

I straightened in my chair, a dozen questions racing through my mind at once, all of them doubtful that the mysterious magic inside me was connected to my grandmother. She must be referring to something else. Rather than worry Claudia, I didn’t want to bring up the incident with Lucas Reed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Miriam had abilities that she didn’t want anyone to know about.”

Had she been an empath, like Claudia? That would’ve explained a great deal about Miriam but had nothing to do with my present.

She continued, “As her only descendant, those abilities, along with the risk and the responsibility that come with them, are now yours. I wish there was some way to prepare you for this news. Miriam waited too long, and now you don’t have the luxury of a careful introduction. You’re in danger, Ethan—more than you know. Your grandmother was not entirely human.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Claudia gave my hand a light squeeze as she said, “She was a dark elf.”

I felt my jaw start to drop, then closed it.

Dark elves were extinct. Unlike their elvish cousins, whose powers were limited largely to moderate trickster magic or localized manipulation of the weather, dark elves had been formidable. Their greatest power, the one that had made them such a threat that the elves and vampires and were-animals had joined forces to exterminate the dark elven race, had been the ability to kill with a touch.

“That’s not possible,” I insisted, but Claudia wouldn’t involve me with unsubstantiated rumors. The timing of Miriam’s death made sense. The magic that had saved me from Lucas Reed had been hers, escaping her breathless body and transferring undiluted to her sole living relative. I hadn’t been set up. I’d been cursed.

Miriam had spent her entire life under a death sentence, as afraid of her powers as she was of revealing her true nature. I wondered how she’d hidden her magical abilities for more than eighty years. I’d never noticed if she wore iridium. For nearly all supernaturals, iridium suppressed magical abilities, but I doubted it had been effective on dark elves or it would’ve been offered to them as an alternative to death.

I thought about the way she’d avoided ever touching me, or anyone. She must’ve struggled with control. Perhaps she’d discovered her abilities just as I had, without any preparation or guidance. Had she spent her entire life withdrawn from friends and family out of fear that a single, casual touch could kill?

Instinctively, I drew my hand from beneath Claudia’s and stared at it. My mind flashed to images of my hand squeezing Josh’s shoulder as he rescued me, of carelessly brushing against Sky just a moment ago in the gallery.

I could’ve killed them.

“Ethan,” Claudia said, distracting me. “You’re stronger than Miriam was. To find yourself with such unanticipated power is a tremendous burden, but I’m confident you will find a way to control it.” She rose and retrieved something from the surface of her desk, then placed it in front of me on the table as she slid back into her seat. I stared at the thin, silvery metal. Iridium. “I’m afraid it won’t fully suppress your abilities, but it will help. Josh can be of great help to you, as well. I wish I had more to offer you. I’m afraid there is no one left who truly understands the power you now possess.”

I stared at the band, an unpleasant reminder of my own childhood. Eventually, the practicality of it won over my distaste. It would only take one emotional outburst to lose control and kill someone I cared about. I swept the band off the table and attached it to my left wrist, where it was less likely to be noticed.

“Thank you,” I said.

She studied me for a moment before asking, “Are you going to tell Sebastian?”

Can I trust him, you mean. There was more at stake for me than just the unexpected revelation of new magical abilities; a death sentence hung over me. If I told Sebastian, he’d be obliged to kill me, or turn me over to the other supernatural factions for extermination. If he protected me, the entire pack would be at risk. I couldn’t let that happen.

My mind reeled as I absorbed the complications of the new reality that had been forced on me. As long as I kept it a secret, the risks were mine alone. “I understand,” I said as I started to rise.

“There is one more thing I’d like to ask you,” she said.

I sat back down, eager to change the subject. “Of course.”

“I’m fond of Skylar, but if she had to choose between her personal safety and the safety of the pack, could you count on her to make the right choice?”

I scrutinized my godmother, wondering what she’d seen when she’d touched Sky. It was a futile effort, of course. Claudia was far too wily to give away more than she felt necessary.

“I have a request,” I said, taking her question as rhetorical. “If your offer of the painting of the two boys is still valid, I accept.”

She smiled, pleased. “Of course.” She’d been waiting years for me to accept it.

“I would like to give it to Sky,” I explained. My promise to answer her questions intrigued her, but I needed something more; the painting would put her completely off her guard. I also wanted her to have it. Perhaps after the ritual was done, the painting would help her to forgive me, eventually.

By the time I emerged from Claudia’s office, Sky had already left. Sitting in my BMW, I drew out my phone to call Josh, but stopped myself. Once he knew I was a dark elf, he would suffer the same dilemma that Sebastian would—turn me in, or suffer the consequences. I couldn’t put either of them in that position.

I pocketed my phone and drove the couple of miles across town to the Law Firm of Wendell, Harper, and Holmes, where I spent the afternoon burying myself in work. Like most of the pack, I worked professionally. Over the last five years, I’d managed to make a name for myself in corporate law, working exclusively with large, often international corporations. Clients frequently asked for me by name, which afforded me the ability to work whatever hours I saw fit—as long as the clients were happy, and I made sure they were. But there were times when I had to choose my responsibilities as pack Beta over those of my career. Twice I’d turned down an offer of partnership with my firm, leaving my employers baffled, but it wasn’t a difficult choice for me to make. Work was an entertaining necessity, and at times a welcome distraction, but the pack was my life.

I enjoyed corporate law because the stakes were strictly financial. Life and death weren’t part of the equation, as they were in pack life. This time, burying myself in the linguistic minutiae of a hundred-page international contract wasn’t enough. My thoughts repeatedly returned to my newly discovered heritage and the elf magic.

If Josh’s ritual could be used to remove Ethos’s magic, it could be used to remove mine, but the ritual wasn’t selective. I’d inherited some witch magic from my mother, and I had no intention of losing it. The Aufero seemed my best chance, though I wasn’t entirely certain it would be selective, either. Unfortunately the Aufero was in Marcia’s possession. I doubted it would just be in her office, sitting on top of her desk like a paperweight. No, the Aufero was too powerful to leave lying around; it would be hidden and protected by magic.

Frowning at the clock, I realized my appointment with Sky was growing closer. I’d enough to worry about now. I considered calling her to reschedule, but I reminded myself that her safety depended on the ritual. Still, I dreaded it. My emotions quickly ran the gamut from regret, to empathy, to anger in a seemingly endless loop. It needs to be done, I reminded myself, dreading the repercussions.

If she could control it… I heard Josh’s voice pleading. Having Ethos’s magic at the pack’s disposal could prove invaluable, but I didn’t think she was capable of controlling it or of using it responsibly, for all the same reasons I’d previously given Josh.

Perhaps I owed it to her to at least find out.

After I left the office, I stopped at a store to pick up a bottle of Sky’s favorite red wine, then stopped by Dr. Baker’s house to pick up a small vial of clear, odorless liquid. He didn’t bother to ask what it was for, and I didn’t volunteer. Once home, I rehearsed the ritual until I felt confident, then packed up the articles required into a black bag. I carefully tucked the wrapped portrait into the back of my SUV and slipped behind the wheel. After a moment’s hesitation, I frowned and backed the SUV out of the driveway.

On my way to Sky’s, I made a brief detour to her favorite restaurant, an Argentinian steakhouse. By policy, they didn’t offer orders to go, but I was a regular. A generous gratuity helped.

When I pulled into the driveway of Sky’s quaint two-bedroom home, I noticed David, her nosy neighbor and more-than-casual acquaintance, giving me a look that I could only describe as hungry suspicion as he strolled on the sidewalk. I scowled back at him and he quickened his step, trotting away as quickly as he could manage without putting his fear on display. Her relationship with David and his partner needlessly put them at risk of dangers they couldn’t possibly anticipate. When she’d purchased her home, I’d counseled her to limit her interactions with neighbors to just the amount necessary to avoid suspicion. She’d rolled her eyes at me, much the way Josh did when he thought I was being overly cautious.

I carried the black bag to the porch and placed it against the house, out of sight next to the door, then returned to my SUV to retrieve the portrait, the dinner, and the wine. I took a slow, calming breath in front of the door, then knocked. After a long moment, I was about to knock again when the door opened.

Sky greeted me with wary reserve, but then her green eyes were drawn to the wrapped portrait, brightening in surprise as she eagerly accepted the gift. I followed, passing her on my way to the kitchen while she carried the portrait into the living room to admire the wrapping. I assumed she was trying to guess which painting I’d brought her.

I placed the wine and the bag of takeaway onto the counter next to her iPad, then began searching the cupboards for plates, glasses, and utensils. Next to the wineglasses, I found one of Steven’s coffee cups, bearing the logo of his university. I scowled as I glanced around the house, noting the curious absence of his belongings. He’d been virtually living with her before he’d left to help his mother rebuild the Southern Pack. I guessed that his belongings were still there, temporarily stashed in the so-called guest room. I didn’t approve of their living arrangement, but I let the matter drop—for the moment.

I retrieved a corkscrew from a drawer and opened the wine. “Open it,” I encouraged her. Her lips spread into a delighted, childlike smile as she began gently sliding her fingers along the seams of the wrapping. While she was distracted, I drew the vial from my pocket and tipped out three drops of a translucent liquid into her wineglass, then returned the vial to my pocket and poured the wine.

I heard a slight gasp as she lifted the framed portrait just far enough out of the box to recognize it. “How did you get this?” she exclaimed. “She said it wasn’t for sale.”

I divided the steaks between the plates, giving Sky the best cut. “It wasn’t.”

“But she sold it to you?”

“No,” I said as I plated the potatoes and asparagus. “I asked her if I could have it so that I could give it to you.” I smiled back at her, enjoying her happiness. “You seem to really like it. I wanted you to have it.”

Her grin broadened as she gingerly drew the portrait the rest of the way from the box and held it in front of her, beaming as she examined every detail. Incomprehensibly, she reached out with a finger and gently touched the canvas, as if proving to herself that it was real. I remembered the gold sign that had hung next to the portrait on the gallery wall that had read PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE ART, and chuckled.

“Thank you,” she said, genuinely pleased as she gently leaned the portrait against the living room wall, then backed away several feet to examine it.

Once everything was ready, I plated the single piece of red velvet cake and brought it to her. She was nearly as delighted by the cake as she was the portrait.

“You seem like a dessert-first type of woman,” I explained.

She accepted it with a coy smile, then retrieved her iPad from the counter and sat at the dining room table, eating absently as she scrolled through what appeared to be a long list of questions. I placed her glass of wine close to her plate, then sat across from her.

“You are able to break wards,” she read as I placed both of our dinner plates on the table. “How?”

“Can I at least take a bite before you start questioning me?” The longer I took, the fewer questions I’d have to answer before the drug took effect.

She nodded agreeably as she forked another bite of cake. When I pushed her glass of wine closer to her, she brushed it aside, giving me a wary look as I sat across from her.

“It’s a gift from Claudia,” I lied, reaching across the table to slide it back in front of her. Lying came easily to me, such that I didn’t have to think to moderate my voice, respiration, and heart rate to avoid detection. “Just take a couple of sips. I can assure you the next time you see her, she will ask for your thoughts about it. She will consider it an insult if you haven’t tried it.”

Sky took an obligatory sip, raised her glass as a testimonial, then set it down. Her attention returned to her iPad as she scrolled through the questions, already searching for the next one. I remained quiet, watching. After a moment, she reached absently for the glass and took another sip.

Relieved, I relaxed into my chair and began cutting my steak.

She repeated her question.

Waiting until she met my gaze, I took a long draw from my wineglass. She took another sip of her own, unconsciously mirroring my behavior. “My mother was a witch,” I answered. “I inherited it. In skills that Josh falls short in, I seem to excel. I shouldn’t have been able to do anything because I’m a were-animal, but things never happen as they should. When my mother noticed that I was able to do magic, she suppressed it.”

“Suppressed it?”

“With iridium.” I drew my left arm back, conscious of the iridium bracelet on that wrist. “I spent most of my childhood with either an iridium cuff or iridium injected into me.” The latter had been the most uncomfortable and had been forced upon me. I hadn’t understood at the time, but the constant presence of iridium cuffs would’ve been noticed.

“Injected into you?” she repeated, appalled. “Couldn’t that have killed you?”

“It wouldn’t be any worse than if Marcia or the others found out. She is a purist. Since she has taken over the Creed, she’s done an exceptional job at eliminating any anomalies that she is aware of. A wolf with the ability to use magic would have been a target for her.”

Sky gaped in abhorrence.

“Agendas do not discriminate based on age,” I explained. “Anomalies grow into adults that become problems. Delaying it because of a soft spot for children doesn’t make the problem go away or be any less dangerous.” It was a cruel but practical policy.

I was raising a bite of steak to my mouth when she asked, “What is the fifth protected mystical object?”

Surprised, I hesitated—an unconscious tell—but I quickly recovered. “I don’t want to answer that.”

“You said you would give me the truth.”

“That is the truth,” I calmly stated. “I don’t want to answer it. Next question.”

She scrutinized me over the lip of her glass as she drew a long drink of wine. Won’t be long now, I thought.

Sky didn’t bother addressing her iPad when she asked, “Did you really love Chris?”

I paused with my knife and fork over my plate and glared at her. “That is neither relevant nor your concern.”

“I want to know,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You promised you would answer my questions. You already avoided one. If you aren’t going to answer my questions, then you need to leave.”

I let out a long, resentful sigh as I set down my utensils and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yes. I did.” Once.

“You let her die.”

She’d been brutally, methodically beaten nearly to the point of being unrecognizable, most likely by Michaela. While the pack and the rest of the Seethe had been fighting Ethos’s creatures, she’d taken advantage of the chaos to attack Chris, hoping that Demetrius, in a jealous rage, would blame me for her injuries. Michaela wanted a war between the Seethe and the Midwest Pack. She almost got it. Unfortunately for her, Chris hadn’t died right away.

Sky and Kelly, Dr. Baker’s human assistant, both believed I should’ve changed Chris into a were-animal to save her, but they didn’t understand the process or the complications involved in transforming a human. Even for a healthy child, the transformation was dangerous. Transforming an adult carried much greater risks and was rarely successful. Chris’s injuries had been too severe for me to change her; the process would’ve been a cruel torture, and then it would’ve killed her.

The transformation of a human into a vampire was a much simpler process.

When Demetrius had offered to change her, I’d refused to allow it. Chris had worked for him, even traded blood with him, but she’d never wanted to be his slave. In siring her, he would’ve owned her for eternity. But Kelly had intervened. The choice hadn’t been hers to make. Defying my explicit orders, and violating the trust of the pack, she’d locked herself in the hospital room with Chris and Demetrius. She’d even allowed the vampire to feed from her in order to rejuvenate him from the fight, enough to enable him to change Chris into a vampire and transport her away from the pack’s retreat.

Despite Kelly’s best intentions, she’d failed to save Chris. She was dead. She was a vampire. As far as I was concerned, the creature in her body was an evil, murderous beast, an enemy of the pack, just like any other vampire. There was nothing left of the Chris I’d known and had tried to protect.

“So?” I demanded, answering Sky’s accusation.

She frowned. “I couldn’t let someone I love die without doing everything possible to save them, even if it meant letting her be changed to a vampire.”

She held my cold, unblinking gaze for a long moment, hoping for some form of capitulation on my part. In the world of predators, unbroken eye contact was a challenge. Sky didn’t understand that, but her wolf did. Eventually, her wolf instincts took over and she averted her gaze.

“Well,” I said, stifling my irritation, “that is one of the many differences we have. I wasn’t going to be responsible for making a vampire, especially one created by Demetrius with the ability to be as dangerous as Chris. Next question.”

“But—”

“Next. Question.”

She took a sip of wine as she scrolled through her iPad once more, preferably searching for a question that was less invasive about matters that didn’t apply to her.

“How long have you known about me and what I am?” she asked.

My lips spread into an amused smile. Her depth of distrust surprised and impressed me. Judging by the slightly glazed look of her eyes, the drug was beginning to take effect, which meant it was time to begin a test of my own.

“I said we would have an honest conversation,” I started, “and I plan to honor that. You might as well have a neon sign on your face flashing everything you are thinking because it is that easy to read. When we took you to Claudia, it wasn’t the first time you had met her. You may not remember. You may have been eleven or twelve when she met you in a store. Do you remember her?”

Sky shook her head, her curiosity piqued. “And what did she think of me?”

“You were still young, but she found you to be peculiar. She could tell you were a were-animal that hadn’t emerged and suggested that we keep an eye on you. So we did. You didn’t really prove to be a danger, so we checked in periodically. It was quite a boring job for whomever was tasked with it. It wasn’t until Josh came to us with the request that you needed to be protected that you proved to be remotely interesting.”

“Then why didn’t you want me to join the pack?”

“Sebastian sees you as an asset. I still disagree and you haven’t shown me anything since we’ve met that has changed my opinion,” I lied, testing her reaction. If she couldn’t control Ethos’s magic, it would rise to the surface on an intense emotion, like anger. According to Josh, I would see the magic in her eyes—that same black vapor that had turned her eyes black when Ethos’s magic had overtaken her body. I continued, channeling my own anger, embellishing it. “You’re impertinent and irresponsible. Before, the only person who had to deal with your screwups was your mother, and given what she had to work with, she did an exceptional job. Now your carelessness is our problem. We are now tasked with the immense responsibility of protecting your life. I don’t think it is worth the risks.”

Her cheeks flushed with anger.

Good.

I leaned toward her at the other end of the table, noting that her pupils had begun to dilate, but there was no sign of Ethos’s power. Not yet. I needed to push her closer to the edge. “As a Moura, you have your benefits, but I am not sure if the cost-benefit is really worth it. Those responsible for guarding things of such power must possess some of their own. At all times it should be controlled, never the other way around. I have not seen anything in you that would prove that you have the ability to possess or control anything of power, even your wolf half. At best, you’re an endearing mess; at worst, you become an obligation that could hurt this pack. You’re witty,” I admitted. “It’s good fun for a laugh or two. You’re kindhearted, which means you will be trampled by those in this world. You blush when you’re upset, you make unwise decisions when you are scared, and you are incapable of getting people to see a reality you wish them to believe. These are not the qualities of one fit to survive in this world. I figure far too many pack resources will be wasted trying to keep you alive.”

I leaned back in my chair and waited for the fireworks.

“‘Incapable of getting people to see a reality you wish them to believe’?” she spat back at me, incensed. “You mean lie? I am sorry I do not possess the qualities of a deranged psychopath and haven’t perfected the fiendish art of lying. Please, let me apologize for being sane and not an unconscionable degenerate. You of all people should know that you can never mistake kindness for weakness; they are not mutually inclusive.”

“Of course they are, but in your case they aren’t. Your ability to manipulate magic can be an asset; however, of the many people I have encountered, I do believe it is a gift wasted on you. I still think taking on the responsibility of being your babysitter, and honestly that is what we will be for you, was one of the few unwise choices Sebastian has ever made.”

For once, she bit her tongue, responding with only a malevolent, plastic smile before returning her attention to her iPad, swiping her finger down the screen in long, aggressive strokes until she saw a question that surprised her.

“Why are you such an ass?” she asked. “I am sure you’ve already won some type of award for it. Why keep at it?”

“Is that really on there?” I asked, genuinely curious.

She turned the iPad around to show me and tapped a finger on the screen, next to the question. I smirked, impressed. If I hadn’t needed her angry, I would’ve laughed.

“Do you really want to waste time on silly questions?” I asked.

She turned the iPad around to examine it once more. I watched as her eyes roved the screen. “Okay, here’s another,” she announced proudly. “What happened in your life that caused you to be such a jerk? Are there any mood-altering medications that you aren’t taking enough of or too much of that make you act like this?”

I chuckled unexpectedly. “You said you wanted the truth and I gave it. I’m not one to coddle people or to temper my words because of sensitivity. I advise you to toughen up, because that is more likely to happen than me changing. If you don’t want the answers, then don’t ask the questions.”

She sucked in an indignant gasp, blatantly resisting the urge to go on the offense before she asked her next question. “The Tre’ases were afraid of you, and your presence sent Ethos into a violent rage. What is it about you that causes them to respond like that?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I’ve often wondered the same thing, but I don’t know that answer. I am an anomaly; there are many that simply hate me because of it. I guess we are alike in some ways.” Judging by her dark glower and the tension in her shoulders, I had pushed her to the borderline between anger and fury. I leaned over the table toward her. Gazing directly into her eyes, I saw the telltale black mist of Ethos’s magic gathering, aroused by her anger. I masked my regret, reminding myself that the chances that Sky could’ve kept such power under control had always been slight.

I would perform the ritual as planned.

“You know what I wonder?” I said. “Why Ethos was so lenient on you. He could have forced you to do whatever he wished—but he asked. When you stabbed him, he could have just as easily killed you—but he didn’t. Do you ever wonder why, Sky?”

Her jaw twitched as she clamped it shut. She’d wondered the same thing. While she struggled with her emotions, I scooped up her wineglass along with mine and carried them to the kitchen counter, next to the bottle. While she stared at the table, contemplating my question, I surreptitiously drew the vial from my pocket, tipped three more drops into her glass, returned the vial, then poured wine into each of our glasses. With the glasses in hand, I walked past her into the living room, drawing her attention as I set them onto the coffee table next to a vase filled with decorative water beads, then dropped onto the sofa. At first, she simply stared at me, stubbornly refusing to join me.

I scrutinized the portrait, waiting for her. I wondered if the shadow looming over me in the painting might be my own darkness.

Sky joined me a moment later, her expression sullen and defiant. I lifted both glasses and handed one to her, intending to make a toast, but she set her glass onto the table next to the vase. For a moment, I wondered if she knew what I was up to, or if she simply thought I was trying to get her drunk.

“You are aware of Maya’s story?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question. When Sky had been in a coma over a year ago, she’d spent four days communing with Maya. I only had Sky’s word as to the context of those conversations. I was sure she knew more about Maya’s history than she let on. “I am not sure how accurate the information is,” I continued. “Perhaps it is a tall tale or some twisted variation of the truth, but it is my understanding that Emma had another child, a son. She kept him hidden to keep him from Maya’s fate, and he grew up to be who we now know as Ethos.”

Her pupils were mostly dilated as she stared back at me, trying to focus. The black mist there dissipated with the cooling of her temper. Distracting herself from my story, she scooped up her glass and sipped her wine.

“Wouldn’t it make sense?” I asked. “After all, when he was reunited with his sister, he asked for her help in controlling the vampires and the were-animals. She could’ve taken control of you and joined him, but she didn’t. Even after her betrayal, when she stabbed him in the middle of battle, he never retaliated. Instead, he relinquished his power to her. Unfortunately, the fragile body that hosted his sister wasn’t able to contain it.”

I watched her take another long drink of wine; for the first time, she seemed to notice the bitter taste, pausing to look into her glass.

“What are you able to do?” I asked, distracting her.

“Wh-what do you mean?” she slurred, surprising herself.

“The magic that you kept—or should we keep pretending you didn’t?”

For a moment, she considered lying, then shrugged. “Not much.” At a wave of her hand, the napkin on the table rose and danced about on the surface before flying toward me. I didn’t flinch as it rose over my head at the last moment. More objects around us began to rise, joining the dance.

“Impressive,” I said. “Besides making napkins bounce around—and I assume all your clothes in the morning as you make them dance around the room—what else can you do?”

She gave me a groggy, speculative look, wondering how I knew. When I offered her no visual cues to glean from, she gave up her speculation. Her gaze softened as she concentrated, conjuring a defensive ward around her—a thin golden aura of magic that felt significantly stronger than I’d thought her capable of. Even sitting just outside the protective barrier, I felt the pressure of it pushing against me. When I pressed a palm against it, it repelled my effort with equal force. Testing its strength, I pushed harder at the barrier’s boundary, which responded by pressing me back into the sofa. Impressive. It also interfered with my plans.

“Drop it,” I said politely.

Her head tilted as she considered me for a moment before the field dissipated in a collapse of gold sparks that briefly illuminated the room.

“What else can you do?” I asked.

Her eyes shifted from mine to stare absently at the vase on the coffee table. “Nothing.”

I doubt that. “Josh hasn’t allowed you to do any spells?”

She shook her head, as if not verbalizing the lie would somehow mask the betrayal of her heartbeat, or the sudden shortness of her breath. She seemed about to collapse into sleep, her body slumping, when she caught herself. Startled, she glanced around the room for an explanation and settled on the wineglass.

“I think I’m drunk,” she whispered, surprised.

The sedative I’d put in her wine was taking longer than anticipated as she stubbornly resisted its effect. Needing to distract her, I decided to test just how powerful she was with Ethos’s magic. I drew my phone out of my pocket and sifted through magic spells I’d copied from some of the older books in the pack library, searching for one in particular. Once I located it, I handed my phone to Sky.

“Read this,” I said. While she examined the document with a confused expression, I took a few beads from the vase, gently opened her hand, then placed the beads in her palm. “Change them.” It was a tall order. Rearranging the molecules of one object to create another required a great deal of power, even to create simple objects.

“Sure,” she said with a wry smile. “What do you want? A bunny? Bird? Lizard? Kitty?”

“You can’t produce something organic from an inorganic,” I explained. “No one can. But you should be able to change the form.”

I waited patiently as she concentrated on the beads. After a long moment, I was about to abort the test when the beads began to vibrate. Slowly, reluctantly, they rolled toward the center of her palm as if drawn to each other, melting into a single, misshapen ball that then formed into a small basin. My eyes widened in genuine surprise. It was an impressive feat, but she wasn’t finished. A tiny, remarkable fire sparked to life within the basin, crackling orange, blue, and claret embers. I felt the heat rising from it as the fire began to spread toward the basin’s edges.

I glanced anxiously at Sky. Her eyes were entirely black, indicative of the power she was using. As the fire threatened to overwhelm the edges of the basin, she seemed oblivious to the danger. Should the fire escape its confines, it would burn through whatever other material it touched and quickly start a fire that would be very difficult to extinguish.

“Sky, stop it,” I urged, but she didn’t appear to hear me.

I hurried to the kitchen and returned with a damp towel just as she yelped and dropped the now glowing-hot basin. I caught it in the towel—ignoring the heat of it as it tried to light the towel on fire. While Sky ran to the kitchen to run her hand under cold water, I quickly smothered the fire with the rest of the towel.

Examining my hand, I found a mild burn. It hurt, and it would blister, but the damage wasn’t significant. With my natural healing ability, the wound would completely disappear within a matter of minutes. Retrieving an ice cube from the freezer, I gently took Sky’s hand from beneath the cold water and held it in mine as I slowly massaged her palm with the ice cube. Her burn was worse than mine, but already healing. She stared at the cube as I gently slid it over her wound. After a moment, she gave me a confused look, but didn’t object to my touch.

The first cube quickly melted, and I retrieved another. The power she’d displayed was far beyond what I’d thought Ethos’s magic could grant her. The potential of such magic was difficult to contemplate. I understood then the intoxicating effect that magic had on my brother, but the risks couldn’t be denied. Had Sky attempted that same spell without my brother or me present to stop her from carrying it too far, she would’ve burned her house down, and probably the entire neighborhood with it.

After the third cube melted into a useless stub, I tossed it into the sink and asked, “More?”

She shook her head.

I gently led her back toward the sofa. Once seated, I handed her her glass of wine, then picked up my own. A smug smile settled on her lips as she basked in the vibration of powerful magic that still thrummed in the room. The sooner I completed the ritual, the better.

“I do believe I’ve underestimated you,” I said sincerely. “You are becoming very powerful. Impressive.” I sighed, resigned, and raised my glass to her. “To untapped power.”

She gently tapped her glass to mine, then hesitated a moment before finally drinking the rest of her glass in a single tilt. I waited for the additional sedative to take effect as she contemplated the empty glass in her hand. After a moment, her eyelids fluttered and she began to sway.

“Are you okay?” I asked, gently taking the glass from her and setting it on the table.

She could barely keep her eyes open. “Too much wine,” she muttered, blinking. “It always makes me sleepy.”

I slid off the sofa to make room. “Lie down.”

“No.” She waved me off. “I just need some water.”

“I’ll get some. Just relax.” Nodding slightly, she lay supine, closed her eyes, and stretched out.

While she made herself comfortable, I retrieved the black bag from outside her front door. As the spell required, I placed six candles around her; one on the couch at her head and one at her feet, two beside her on the coffee table, and two more on the back of the couch. While I lit them in turn, her eyelids fluttered as she tried and failed to keep them open. By the time I finished, she was completely asleep.

The air in the room thickened as the pungent redolence of herbs and cedar diffused from the candles, irritating my nostrils. Looming over Sky, I began the memorized chant. Once complete, I patted her cheeks—just enough to draw her from her drug-induced slumber. When her eyelids flickered partially open, she seemed unaware of her surroundings.

“Sky, open your eyes,” I said, lifting her chin slightly. “Look at me.”

She tried. Her lids fluttered open, but then slowly closed as she drifted back toward sleep. I patted her face again, progressively harder until she was finally able to keep her eyes open. Cradling her face in my palms, I whispered into her ear, “Repeat this.” I gave her the four key words, carefully pronouncing the sounds that were from an old dialect. When she repeated them, they were jumbled, breathed out in a reluctant sigh as she tried to go back to sleep.

“No Skylar, you have to say them exactly as I did.”

I repeated them again, breaking the sounds into syllables. After she repeated them correctly, I bent over to brush my lips over hers and inhaled, drawing Ethos’s magic from her until I felt the cold of it numbing my body, then turned away from her and exhaled the black vaporous mist into the room, where it dissipated. We repeated the ritual three more times. When I pried open one of her eyelids, her green eyes appeared disassociated, but they were clear. The black mist was gone. I sighed in relief, experiencing just a moment of satisfaction before I imagined the confrontation that would ensue when she woke up. But she was safe now.

“What’s happening?” she muttered.

“Go to sleep,” I whispered softly. A moment later she was snoring. I quietly blew out the candles and gathered them into the bag. I rinsed any trace of the wine from our glasses, emptied the bottle down the drain, and left.