Chapter 16 – Regina
Chapter
Sixteen
REGINA
Vyse has a way of taking up space that has nothing to do with physical dimensions.
He’s draped across one of Villeneuve’s antique chairs like a cat. A cat who’s decided the furniture belongs to him now, long legs crossed at the ankle, red hair spilling over the armrest.
He’s also making a face at the tea Sean made him.
“This is atrocious.” Vyse holds the cup away from his body like it’s radioactive. “What did you do, boil the leaves in battery acid?”
Sean crosses his arms and looks wounded. “I made it exactly how the box said.”
“Box?” Vyse’s voice cracks in horror like he’s just been poisoned. “You fed me tea from a box?”
“All the best food comes from boxes, bro,” Sean says, blinking. “Have you never had Hamburger Helper?”
Vyse looks a bit paler. He sets the cup down on the side table with exaggerated care. “I’ve had swamp water with a more nuanced flavor profile.”
“Then drink swamp water next time,” Sean grumbles. “Jerk.”
I stroke his giant bicep in consolation and he melts. He takes any affront to his culinary skills very personally.
Killian is standing by the window again. It’s his default position these days. He hasn’t sat down since Vyse arrived, every muscle tense like he’s ready to shift into his wolf form at the slightest provocation. The dark veins on his neck are visible above the collar of his black t-shirt now.
They spread a little further each day.
Rowan is on the couch nearest to me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. His presence is steady through the bond, but there’s an edge to it.
We’re all on edge.
I should really text Villeneuve.
I consider it for a moment. He’s been in his office since this morning, doing whatever dragons do when they’re not saving ungrateful wolves or almost-kissing their mates during party games. I haven’t actually talked to him about anything other than class since I found him collapsed that day.
I’d say it’s because he’s been avoiding me, but the truth is, I’ve been avoiding him too. I don’t know what to say to a man who refuses to let anyone in.
But this is his house. And Vyse is his contact. It seems like the kind of thing he should know about.
I pull out my phone.
REGINA
Vyse is here. Thought you should know.
VILLENEUVE
I’m already on my way.
That was… fast.
Of course he’s on his way. His wards probably alerted him to Vyse’s presence the moment the siren set foot on campus, like a fly in a spider’s web.
I pocket my phone just as the drawing room door bangs open.
Micah comes through like he’s expecting a fight, shoulders squared and hands clenched. His glasses are slightly crooked, which means he ran here.
“Where’s the creep?”
His eyes land on Vyse.
Vyse smiles and the room gets chillier.
“Well, if it isn’t budget Clark Kent,” he says in that silken voice. “Miss me?”
Micah freezes. “You—uh.”
“Eloquent as always.”
Micah looks like he’s trying to decide between fight and flight and has somehow ended up stuck squarely in the middle, which is just standing there awkwardly with clenched fists.
“Where’s Villeneuve?” he finally manages. “Sadie needs through the ward.”
Killian’s head snaps toward him. “You brought your sister?”
“She insisted.” Micah’s shrug is defensive. “You know how she is.”
I do know how she is. Sadie’s version of “insisted” probably involved threats of hexing someone’s junk.
The door opens again before anyone can respond.
Villeneuve enters first, looking so composed you’d never know I found him collapsed in his office three days ago. Behind him comes Sadie, her blue-black hair slightly windswept and her combat boots leaving faint marks on the expensive carpet.
She stops just inside the doorway, taking in the scene. Her gaze moves from Killian by the window to Rowan on the couch to Sean still hovering near the tea service like he’s guarding it from further insults.
Then her eyes land on Vyse.
And Vyse’s frigid blue eyes are already locked on her.
Vyse stands.
The motion is sharp rather than fluid as usual. His eyes glow faintly as they sweep over Sadie from head to toe, lingering on her facial piercings, her band t-shirt, the stacked silver rings on every finger.
“Well, well.” His voice drops to a low, intimate purr. “And who is this ravishing creature?”
Sadie blinks. “I fucking hope you mean Sean.”
“Such fire.” Vyse crosses the room in three long strides, stopping in front of her. He takes her hand before she can react, lifting it toward his lips. “I’m Vyse. And you are?”
“Deeply uncomfortable.” Sadie yanks her hand back. “Also not living in the Victorian era, last I checked.”
Vyse laughs. The sound is genuine, surprised, and it transforms his face from menacing to almost charming. “Oh, I like her. She’s delightful.”
She raises an eyebrow. “’Delightful’ isn’t usually the word people use.”
“Most people lack vision.”
Sadie shoots Micah a look that clearly says what the hell is wrong with this guy? Micah just shrugs helplessly.
“What do you want, Vyse?”
Villeneuve’s voice is sharp and commanding. He’s moved while I wasn’t paying attention, positioning himself between me and the siren even though Vyse’s attention definitely isn’t on me at the moment. I notice the others have done the same thing, unconsciously.
A wall of wolves between me and the predator.
Cute. Unnecessary, but cute.
Vyse’s attention shifts to Villeneuve. He stares the dragon down for a few seconds, as if he’s considering whether or not it’s worth it to challenge him in his own home, before he sinks back into his chair.
Evidently, it’s not worth it.
“Straight to business, then.” He waves a dismissive hand. “You’re a bore, Elias. Always were.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Villeneuve hasn’t moved from his position in front of me. “I assume you have news, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“News. And a proposition.” Vyse examines his nails. “Take your pick.”
“Both, preferably. Quickly.”
Vyse’s smile sharpens. “As you wish. There’s been no progress on locating Kyle Starbridge. The man has apparently vanished into thin air, which is impressive given how desperately the Council wants to find him. Necromancy tends to make people… touchy.”
Killian makes a sound low in his throat. Not quite a growl, but close.
“However,” Vyse continues, “we do still have several members of his coven in custody. The ones who survived that delightful confrontation in the meadow.” His gaze flicks to me, then away. “They’ve been notably unforthcoming so far. Even with certain enhanced methods of interrogation.”
“Enhanced?” Rowan’s voice is flat.
“Nothing too dramatic. A few psychic nudges. Some creative truth serums. The usual Council toolkit.” Vyse sounds disappointed in the Council’s restraint. “But they’re not talking. Not about Kyle, not about the necromancer, or anything useful.”
Villeneuve’s jaw tightens. “Starbridge must have placed a spell on them. Some kind of binding to prevent them from divulging information in the event of capture.”
“That was my assumption as well.” Vyse leans forward, elbows on his knees.
“But here’s the interesting part. There’s no evidence of such a spell.
No magical signature, no binding marks, nothing.
I’ve examined them quite thoroughly. If there’s a spell, it’s unlike anything I’ve encountered, and I’ve encountered a great deal. ”
The room goes quiet.
“That’s not possible,” I hear myself say. “Compulsion magic always leaves a trace. It has to. The binding requires an anchor point in the subject’s mind.”
Vyse’s attention shifts back to me. “You’re absolutely right. Which is why I’d like to bring in someone with a close connection to the coven.”
My stomach drops.
“Someone who’s familiar with Kyle’s magic,” he continues. “Someone who might recognize patterns or techniques that an outsider would miss.”
He’s still looking right at me.
“No.”
Killian’s voice is a snarl. He’s moved without me noticing, putting himself more firmly between me and Vyse, even if it means standing side by side with Villeneuve.
The dark veins on his neck pulse visibly.
Oh, gods…
“You’re not putting her around those freaks again.”
“Mr. Underwood—”
“I said no.” Killian’s eyes have that golden flicker in them. His hands are clenched so hard his knuckles have gone white. “Find another way. She’s not going anywhere near that coven of fucking assholes who abused her for years.”
Vyse raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. Smart of him. Killian looks about three seconds from shifting and taking a bite out of someone.
None of the wolves are moving, but Rowan and Micah are both watching Killian like he’s about to snap.
And I don’t think their fears are unfounded.
Rebecca. Rebecca, who Kyle was fucking behind my back at first and then right in front of my face, who stood there smirking while they unleashed a werewolf to drag me back to a life of magical servitude.
I know her.
Know how she thinks, how she operates.
Kyle confided in her, probably more than he ever confided in me. If anyone knows where he’s hiding, where the necromancer came from and what the hell is actually going on, it’s her.
And I’m so. Fucking. Tired.
Tired of hiding and waiting for the next attack, waiting for the virus to progress. Killian is dying by inches and we don’t have any leads. Kyle is out there somewhere, probably planning his next move while we sit around hoping Vyse will pull some magic out of thin air.
“I’ll do it.”
Every head in the room turns toward me.
“Regina...” Killian starts.
“I’ll do it,” I repeat. “Whatever it takes. Interview the coven members, look for signs of Kyle’s magic, whatever you need.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I meet Killian’s eyes. “We don’t have any other leads. Kyle is hiding somewhere, and if anyone knows where, it’s Rebecca. She was always his favorite.”
The words don’t even come out bitter anymore, just factual. Kyle was never some prize to be won. Now that he’s left Rebecca high and dry, I wonder if even she understands that.
“She’s dangerous,” Rowan says quietly.
“So am I.”
Sadie snorts from her spot near the door. “Hell yeah you are.”
Micah shoots her a look, but there’s a hint of pride in his expression when he glances back at me.
“The Council facility has extensive protections,” Vyse offers. “She’d be perfectly safe. And I would be present for any interrogation.”
“Oh, awesome. Hannibal Lecter is going to be there to protect her from Buffalo Bill,” Rowan says under his breath.
“That movie was about cowboys?” Sean asks, eye widening. “This whole time I thought it was scary.”
Rowan gives him a bewildered look.
“I’m tired of being the one on the run.” I step forward, past the protective wall Killian and Villeneuve have formed in front of me. “I’d rather face the bitch head on. And I’ve got a few questions myself.”
Killian groans, but it’s the sound of an alpha who’s already resigned. He might complain about my decisions, but he’s always respected them.
“Regina.” His voice is rough, but there’s an undercurrent of pride in it. “If anything happens to you…”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” I reach out and take his hand. His fingers are cold, and I feel a slight tremor in them from the effort of controlling whatever is happening inside him. “I’m not the scared girl who ran away from her coven anymore. I have a pack now. I have you.”
His jaw works. For a moment, I think he’s going to argue and pull the pack alpha card after all.
Instead, he pulls me against his chest. His arms wrap around me, tight and desperate, and I feel his heart beating against my cheek.
“Why do you have to be so fucking brave?” he mutters.
I laugh, close my eyes and breathe him in. Earth and bourbon, even now with dark magic polluting his veins. “More pissed than brave.”
“Same difference,” he says, kissing my forehead. It’s the first time in weeks he’s been this close without his guard being down in his sleep.
He acts like I’m made of glass these days.
Like he’ll shatter me if he breathes wrong.
When I pull back, Vyse is watching us. Something suspiciously close to envy crosses his features before he seals it away.
“Well then,” he says, standing. “It seems we have a plan.”