Chapter 11
Julian POV
I watched Bianca’s sleeping form through the open tent flap. My hands were shaking with the need to go to her, especially after her earlier distress, but Damen had demanded that we remain behind to talk.
This was a report that couldn’t be missed.
“She showed me the scar,” Damen said quietly. The firelight cast shadows across his face as he described what she’d revealed—the subtle details about her captivity, along with the ‘treatment’ she received.
The Richards operation was more sophisticated than we’d initially believed.
Rage surged through me. She’d received medical punishment for non-compliance. My fingers itched with the need to destroy, to make them suffer as she had.
“That explains her avoidance of hospitals,” Titus growled. The dragon’s form flickered in the darkness, his control slipping. “Even before being involuntarily committed.”
“There’s more.” Damen’s voice hardened. “A trafficking ring this close to our territory had to have supernatural protection. No normal operation would risk taking someone with our mark. They know she’s Mu.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow.
“Someone in a position of authority had to have helped them,” I said, touching my head.
My mind cataloged suspects—who had the influence, the medical connections, and the ability to protect a trafficking operation from scrutiny? The list was longer than I liked.
“We need to let the Officers know,” Titus said. “Half of them are already involved. Now we need everyone, including the Paragons.”
“You know what that means,” Damen frowned. “Pearson and Mai will be told,” he said as he looked between us.
“And Jameson,” Titus scowled in return. “And yes, I know what it means. I can deal with my father. The rest of the Paragon Er Bashous need to be brought in—how long do you think Declan and Jonathon will keep this from their quintet anyway?”
A coldness seemed to settle over the air.
To alert the Proxy Er Bashous meant that Mai would return.
She’d left me alone so I could finish school, and I’d hoped never to see the she-devil’s face again.
Nothing was worse than her quiet lurking through the night, attacking when you least expected it.
She was probably the only person in the world that gave me chills. But, for Bianca’s sake…
“Let’s see what Gregory thinks,” I replied, looking back to the fire. “He is Bianca’s magical guardian.”
“Jameson is going to be pissed,” Titus replied.
“Whatever,” Damen replied. “I’m the Xing, not him. He has to listen to me.”
Well, we all knew that was a lie. The Paragons were the embodiment of our ultimate forms as we grew into our roles and only after we finished our training could we beat them. As of this moment, Jameson could easily kick Damen’s ass—the same way Mai could murder me without breaking a sweat.
“Regardless,” Damen continued, shoulders slumping. “I agree with Julian. We ask Gregory first. If he thinks we need them, we’ll do it.”
Bianca POV
I rubbed my fists over my face, trying to block out the intrusive sunlight shining through the orange nylon, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Titus.
“Sorry,” he said. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the tent near my head. “But we’ll need to get moving soon if you want to find Miles today.” He leaned forward and brushed my hair behind my ear. “It’s already late.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It’s eight in the morning,” Titus said. “We let you sleep in.”
“Eight is not sleeping in,” I muttered, pulling the blanket over my face. “Let me have ten more minutes.”
Titus tugged the blanket away from my face. “I brought food.”
“Where?” I asked, sitting up so fast that dots flashed across my vision. I was starving. I hadn’t been hungry last night, but it was probably for the best. I might have been sick if I’d eaten anything.
But now? It was a new day.
The dragon’s eyebrow rose as he reached out and dropped a wad of beef jerky in my outstretched hands.
My heart sank at the sight. I was so tired of jerky, granola, and fruit bars. Maybe we should have asked Finn to come with us. “We had this for lunch yesterday. How about eggs?”
“It’s fall,” Titus said with a shrug. “Do you expect to find any around right now?”
I sighed. No, I didn’t.
“Thanks…” I muttered and began to nibble on the peppered teriyaki.
Titus didn’t respond. Instead, he reached behind him and pulled out a thermos, handing it to me without a word.
I hesitated before taking it. The container was warm, and even through the closed lid, I could smell the life-giving goodness.
“I brought coffee,” Titus grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you like it.”
Like it? I couldn’t survive without it.
“There’s powdered cream and sugar in it,” he continued, dropping his hand. “I took it from my office.”
“Thank you,” I said, fighting and failing to keep the heat from my face.
“Anything,” Titus said with a nod. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
Why not? I glanced at him. “Did you steal it?”
“No, it’s my office,” he said, somewhat sulkily. “Maria can’t tell me what to do. Especially if it has something to do with my mate.”
That word again.
My mouth went dry and I swallowed.
“You keep bringing that up…” I ventured. “Why?”
He studied me with a terrifying intensity. “Because you’re my mate,” he said.
My breath caught—would it ever stop surprising me? He was still observing me, clearly expecting a response.
“And I like to say it because I’m reminding myself,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, and even slightly lost, “so I don’t make a mistake.”
I blinked at him. “What kind of mistake?”
“There’s only a fine line separating the human from the shifter,” Titus replied, gaze moving to some point over my shoulder. “The human side of me knows you’re my mate, but it’s not sealed yet.”
“But…”
“The dragon in me wants to rage,” Titus said. “He considers us to be mates already, and he wants to forget Miles so we can obliterate anyone linked to Eric Richards. But”—he frowned, clasping my hands to steady my drink—“we’re more logical than that.”
We ?
“You need me here,” Titus concluded with a nod. “And we need to find Miles for you to be happy. Then I can continue my search.”
How was I supposed to respond? “Titus…”
He put the canteen aside as his expression shifted from severe to shy. “Want me to help?” he asked, holding a foldable hairbrush. “While you drink your coffee and wake up?”
“Sure…” I replied, watching him through lidded eyes as I sipped my coffee.
I was so focused on keeping up with Titus’s long strides that I smacked straight into him when he stopped. Maybe he’d said something, but I’d been watching the ground instead of paying attention.
“Ow.” I rubbed my nose.
“Sorry, princess,” he said, expression sheepish. “Didn’t know you were that close.”
“Where else would I be?” After all, he was the one who told me to stay near. Julian had walked behind me as Damen brought up the rear. However, I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he was in danger from swinging branches this morning.
Damen paused to study the forest canopy while Julian reached into his bag.
“Drink,” Julian said, pressing a metal water bottle into my hands.
I accepted it but kept my eyes on Titus. “Why did we stop? How are you tracking him?”
He might have picked up a scent. Miles had been out here a while, after all.
“We’ve been following those.” Titus pointed to a tree a few feet away.
The trees? But we were in the middle of a forest—there were so many of them.
I squinted at the tree. Nothing seemed off until I looked at the base.
“Mushrooms?” I frowned. The nasty little fungus had spread from the base of the tree to about a half a foot up. How dare they ruin a perfectly fine sapling. “Is the tree dying?”
“No, the tree is fine,” Titus said with a smile, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “For now. But it could eventually rot if left untreated. Such a waste.”
What was wrong with him?
“Why does that make you happy?” I asked, puzzled by his grin as Damen and Julian paused their conversation, sensing something I hadn’t caught onto yet. “How did this tree become diseased?”
“Don’t worry.” Damen stepped closer and swung his arm over my shoulders. “Miles leaves these behind to find his way back. He’s directionally challenged.”
“Excuse me?” My confusion deepened. Why couldn’t the man invest in a GPS, or, if it had to be something rudimentary, tie strings in branches to mark his trail?
“It’s not harming anything,” Julian interjected, rolling his eyes at the other two. He pulled me away from Damen and guided me closer to the mushrooms. “See the unusual orange color? They’re not natural. The mushrooms will eventually go away and the tree will be fine.”
Damen chuckled. “You should know that no mushroom looks like that. You know all about plants.”
“Mushrooms aren’t plants.” I frowned at him. No one under my watch would be allowed to continue with that particular misconception. “How is he doing it?”
“Witches are Earth,” Julian explained. “Miles’s magic is heavily based in grounding and spoil.”
I put my crooked finger to my lips and nodded. The documentaries had covered some of the basics: graveyard dirt, mud baths, and buried jars… but they hadn’t mentioned this.
“Miles also uses plants in his magic,” Julian continued. “Because they come from the earth.”
“These magic mushrooms ,” I pressed, “appear because?”
“Miles leaves a trace of his essence when he’s traveling, so he doesn’t get lost,” Julian began, but his explanation faded into uncertainty. He shrugged, catching my look. “It’s complicated.”
“He’s walking fertilizer.” Titus smirked.
Damen snickered.
“So,” I continued, ignoring their jokes, “he controls the soil’s health, and his presence helps fungi thrive.”
But at what cost? I pressed my lips together as I looked at my tree. “There has to be other things that witches can do,” I muttered, more to myself than the others. “What about the Cole family? That wasn’t very nature-y.”
“Sure,” Damen replied. “There’s a dark and light side to every element.
In your case, the powers are housed in the Seelie and Unseelie courts.
Caleb was supposed to teach you about the Unseelie magic and the lore.
I guess Gregory will have to do it now. Nobody’s heard from Caleb’s ghost in a while. He might have moved on.”
Mr. Weaver. My spine tingled as the familiar feeling of remembering something important slammed into me.
Crap .
No, Mr. Weaver hadn’t moved on. In fact, the last time I’d seen him, he was very much still here—spiritually. He’d been free to come and go as he wanted until, in my moment of panic, I’d told him he wasn’t allowed to leave Ms. Protean’s office.
Surely that didn’t mean he was stuck there?
Lord, I hoped not.
Guilt washed over me. When I’d left, he’d been visible to Ms. Protean, and they were bickering.
She was going to be angry. And him? He would be grumpier than usual.
I would have to check on them first thing when we got back.
“What’s wrong?” Julian asked, his focus suddenly back on me. He brushed my arm. “Are you still upset about the mushrooms?”
“Not so much about that,” I replied. The mushrooms paled in comparison to the embarrassment at my amateurish mistake.
This was a disaster. Bryce could never find out. He’d never let me live it down.
“It’s just a little fungus,” Damen replied, gesturing toward the tree. “It’s all good.”
I narrowed my eyes on him.
Was he trying to rub this transgression in my face? Just seeing those orange atrocities grated my already raw nerves.
“I know.” I shrugged, trying not to care anymore. “Let’s just go.”
The others glanced at each other only once before reclaiming their supplies, and we fell into step behind Titus.
Now that I knew what to look for, the trail was obvious. Every few yards, another unsightly bunch was growing, mocking me.
“Just how long has this been going on?” I muttered, not really expecting an answer.
But Titus heard and responded anyway. “We’ve been following his trail since we started tracking him.”
Okay, I needed to be more specific…
“Before this,” I clarified. “How long has he been using such tactics?”
Titus sheepishly glanced back at me again. “Lifetimes.”
I blinked at him. Lifetimes ?
Damen was smirking as he passed Julian to squeeze beside me.
“He first started doing it to annoy you. It was his way to get you to pay attention to him. He used bread crumbs once, but it didn’t end well.
” He sighed dramatically. “He got lost, then you got lost chasing after him. You two were younger in that life, and a cannibalistic witch was involved. It was an all-around bad situation.”
“What?” I asked sarcastically. Why were so many witches cannibals? “Like Hansel and Gretel ?”
I half expected Damen to laugh, but his expression only turned more severe.
He had to be kidding me.
“Seriously?” I stopped, staring at him in surprise. “It’s real?”
“All fairy tales have a hint of truth.” Damen petted my head. “It’s just a matter of separating fact from fiction.”