Vernadetto was a fool if he thought the curfew wasn’t necessary. She sat up in bed. Once again, Vernadetto had stuck his nose into the othernatural problem. She grabbed her cell phone and tapped the last number she’d entered into her speed dial.

It rang twice before the familiar male voice answered. “Hello?”

“Thomas Creek?”

“Yes, Madam Mayor, that’s the number you dialed.”

“I need you to investigate someone for me.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

What the hell? Are you sure?” When Doc had arrived at pride headquarters, he’d come straight to his office and called a council meeting to see if there was any way he’d missed a loophole in his mandated marriage.

Omur, the cheetah-shifter, nodded. “Positive. Your girlfriend was in the club and at least twenty people witnessed the incident. Heaven issued the challenge. There’s no getting out of it unless your girlfriend decides not to show.”

Doc slammed his fist onto his desk. “She can’t do this. She’ll get killed.”

“As the pride leader’s mate, Heaven can do whatever she likes,” Barasa said, his eyes flickering with tiger amber. “And I doubt your girlfriend will even put a scratch on her. Human-versus-varcolai battles rarely go in favor of the human.”

He stared Barasa down, trying to remember this man was on his side. “First of all, my girl’s name is Fiona. Use it. Second, I was talking about Fi to begin with. And third, I’m well aware of the odds.” He smacked the desk one more time before walking around the side of it. “Dammit.” What the hell was Fi thinking? Unfortunately, he knew. Once again, she thought she could fix things on her own.

“I’m sorry, Maddoc. I meant no disrespect,” Barasa said.

Doc went back to his desk and collapsed into his seat. “Fine. Give me the details. I want to know the entire conversation.”

“Neither of us was there, but we have good secondhand knowledge of what went down,” Omur began. “Basically, Fiona appeared out of nowhere, starting yelling Heaven’s name until she appeared, then antagonized Heaven into challenging her. The one upside is that Heaven declared the match would be to death or surrender, so Fiona doesn’t necessarily have to die.”

Doc closed his eyes. Things had gone from bad to worse to catastrophic. “Fiona can’t die. Do you understand? I forbid it.”

“Did you have a chance to explain about the divorce allowance to her?” Omur asked.

Doc flicked his gaze to Omur. “Why do you think this whole thing happened? She’s not exactly thrilled about me impregnating Heaven in order to divorce her.”

Omur nodded. “I can imagine. What do you think Fiona’s chances are?”

“I don’t know. Not good. She might be a ghost but before she died, she was a grad student. Not exactly a match for a jaguar-shifter who’s probably been trained for this kind of combat since birth.” Doc dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. What a freaking mess this had turned into. There had to be a way to get Fi out of this.

Barasa broke the silence in the office. “There is a way to give her a better chance.”

Doc picked his head up. “What’s that?”

Barasa glanced at Omur before answering. “We could train her.”

Creek didn’t like being the mayor’s personal investigation service, but he liked even less that Yahla had been out to see Mawmaw. He checked the time again. Mawmaw should be well home by now and have had a chance to ward her home against Yahla’s return. Warding the whole house meant destroying the feather charm in the process and leaving Mawmaw unprotected, but as long as she stayed inside, she should be fine.

So should he, if everything went according to the plan he and Mawmaw had laid out. He grabbed the feather charm and yanked it off his neck, letting it dangle from his fingers.

His grandmother didn’t know much about the Kubai Mata, except what he’d recently told her, but she knew more about the soulless woman than anyone else, except maybe the dead witch Aliza, who had managed to imprison Yahla in her home’s structure and tap into Yahla’s power to strengthen her own.

He cupped the charm, the feathers cool and silky. He stroked them. Maybe Yahla wasn’t so bad. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe… He dropped the feathers onto the kitchen worktable and those thoughts drifted away.

Hell. The soulless woman had bewitched him. His blackouts had all come after contact with her. She’d more than bewitched him. She’d used him. He got enough of that from the KM, but at least with them, he got to keep his wits about him.

The talisman taunted him with the blue-black shine of the feathers. The urge to touch the feathers again, to tie it back around his neck, crept over his skin like ants. From here on out, he’d have to rely on the power of the KM to keep him safe. It had kept him alive when attacked by one of the Castus; it should do fine faced with a woman who was more myth and legend than substance and skin.

“Yahla.” He spoke her name without emotion, calling her without tipping her to his anger. She didn’t immediately show, so he called again, more sweetly this time. “Yahla?”

“Hello.”

She was above him, perched on the loft railing. She pushed off and dropped gracefully beside him, the feathers of her hair sailing out around her. “You’ve missed me.”

“I have.” He took a step back as she approached. Couldn’t let her touch him. Not yet. “Where have you been?”