Chapter 3
Chapter Three
CONNOR
B ones senses something’s up. The German shepherd has velcroed himself to my side, even following me into the bathroom as I shower off the smell of the restaurant. From the night I found him eating out of the dumpster behind Diabolique and took him in, he’s been highly attuned to my dragon’s energy. My restlessness is now his restlessness. I’d take him on another walk, but Seb, Remus, and Ellison are due here any minute, plus I don’t want to risk missing contact from Donovan. With any luck, he’ll respond before the official meeting of the four.
Then again, Donovan will expect the murder in Paris to send shock waves through the brotherhood. If there were any way for him to get a message to me, I suspect he’d already have done it. The Order must be holding their resident dragon in a position where he either can’t reach the phone or can’t risk contacting us.
Which means I’ll have to settle for plan B .
If only I had a plan B.
The doorbell rings, and I hear my Firetender, Zaire, welcome someone inside. The talented artist has served me faithfully since taking his oath three years ago. Our Firetenders get close access to our creative energy, and in return we get an enthusiastic servant. I’m lucky to have him.
“Seb and Remus have arrived,” Zaire announces.
Bones leaves my side to go greet the two dragons with an animated tail wag. Remus rubs the dog’s head affectionately, and Seb gives him a thump on the side.
“Thanks for coming. Help yourself to a drink at the bar if you need one. We’ll start as soon as Ellison arrives.”
“Are you sure we can’t start without him?” Seb slants a wry grin, his presence filling the room. The Taurus dragon is the picture of casual elegance in a pair of Tom Ford jeans, a relaxed button-up shirt, and a waxed canvas jacket. He clasps my hand and grabs my shoulder firmly in a way I picture him doing with every band he signs as an executive at his record label. Seb is as loyal as they come, but it’s true what they say about bulls and china shops. When he thinks he’s right about something, he doesn’t care how many teacups he has to shatter to prove it.
At his side, Remus, dressed in his faded blue jeans and wild, shoulder-length hair, isn’t as sophisticated as Seb but he’s easily as intimidating. Equally as large, the tattoos that peek out from the sleeves of his leather jacket cover much of his torso. Remus is quiet but deadly. There’s a lot going on upstairs, but he generally keeps it to himself until he can’t anymore. And then look out. The tattoo artist may take his time to deliberate, but once he makes up his mind about something, you don’t want to get caught between him and his goal.
“Remus. Good to see you again.”
“Same.” He strips out of his leather jacket and drifts toward the bar at the back of the room.
I need Remus to side with Seb and me about taking direct action on Lucy’s murder. Ellison is reliably conservative on issues like this. He’ll want to cross every t. But the longer we wait to rustle the grass, the longer the snakes can hide in it, and that means more civilian lives at risk. As he crosses the room, I try to guess where he stands, but his body language doesn’t give anything away. Fuck, the Gemini can be hard to read, but then his sign is known for being conflicted. Twins in one body, not always in agreement.
Another knock comes at the door, and Seb and I exchange glances.
“Ellison is here,” Zaire announces, escorting him into my living room before bowing and exiting in the direction of the kitchen.
Bones nudges Ellison’s leg with his nose, his tail barely wagging. It’s a greeting but not an enthusiastic one. Yeah buddy, I feel the same way.
Ellison gives the dog a reluctant pat that turns into a push. He doesn’t want dog hair on his dress pants. Typical Ellison.
“Thanks for coming,” I mumble.
He strides into the room in a tailored and pretentious gray suit, an attaché case in his hand. He’s a partner at the law firm of Stuck Up, Backed Up, and Fucked Up, aka Goldberg, Weber, and Strunk. Ellison falls in the backed-up category. The guy’s sphincter is constantly clenched. Throw out any idea and Ellison will come up with thirty reasons why you can’t do it. It’s ironic his sign is Cancer because he is literally a cancer on my proactive Aries ass.
We lock eyes and exchange curt nods. Everything I need to happen today revolves around my ability to lead this team, which means a scuffle with Ellison is off the table.
“If everyone could take a seat, I’ll officially call a meeting of the four to discuss retaliation for the murder of civilian Lucy Vale.” I remain standing, my back to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Upper East Side.
“Have you heard back from Donovan?” Seb asks, dropping into one of my leather side chairs and crossing an ankle over his knee.
“Donovan?” Ellison’s brows shoot skyward and his mouth bends into a scowl. “Are you sure you want to involve him? Why risk his safety when we haven’t even confirmed the Order’s involvement?”
Why do you think, shithead ? I can feel my blood heat in my veins. “Their involvement is a given. Lucy Vale was murdered in front of a sculpture of an angel slaying a person with wings we all know represents a dragon. The Order’s motto was written in blood above her head. What other proof do you need? An attack on a dragon civilian on public soil is a breach of the accord. We need to retaliate before it happens again, show them there are consequences. If we can’t get a confirmation from Donovan, we should pick one of them off and hold them until the Order answers for their crimes.”
Ellison scoffs. “You do that and we’re at war, Connor. We need to contact the Order for an official response first. It’s possible one of their members went rogue. We can’t jeopardize the peace accord unless the Order officially claims responsibility for the attack.”
I take a step toward him, pointing at the ground between us. “Don’t you think the message above Lucy’s head is enough of an admission?”
“Only one way to find out.” Ellison pulls out his cell phone and dials.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Finger to his lips, he hits Speaker, and we all stare as the device rings once, twice, three times.
“Cifarelli Enterprises, this is Brandy. How may I direct your call?”
“Stefan Cifarelli please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Ellison Weber from Goldberg, Weber, and Strunk, returning his call on a legal matter.”
Like this would ever work.
“One moment please. I’ll transfer you.”
I squint at Ellison. Bastard .
“Stefan Cifarelli’s office. This is Pam. How can I help you?”
“Pam, I’m trying to reach Stefan Cifarelli. I’m returning his call on a legal matter.”
“I’m sorry. He’s not in the office at this time. Can I take a message?”
“Actually, this is a pressing legal matter of urgent importance. Is there a way you could connect us?”
I snort. Have to hand it to the guy, that’s sort of brilliant.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. Mr. Cifarelli will be out of the office for a personal family event until the middle of next week. Unfortunately, he’s not taking calls, but if I can have your name and number?—”
“Odd. I swear he told me to call him immediately.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Must be an important event.”
“What message would you like to leave for him?”
“Thank you, Pam. I’ll just call back next week.”
He stabs the End Call button.
“Family event?” Seb mumbles. “What kind of family event has Cifarelli incommunicado for over a week?”
Remus holds up his phone and snorts. “ Page Six says Roman Cifarelli purchased a custom diamond engagement ring at Harry Winston’s recently, and rumor has it he’s marrying New York Times best-selling author Fiona Morrow.”
Seb snaps his fingers. “Doesn’t she write those thrillers about a woman who breaks free of a deadly secret society and makes it her life’s mission to take every one of them down? The Alex Rogue thrillers?”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Ironic. You think she knows she’s marrying into the very threat her main character vows to bring to justice?”
I brush off his question. “Any rumors on Page Six about where they’re tying the knot?”
Remus taps his screen a few times. “No, but that kid from Florida who tracks celebrity jets says Roman traveled to the Marseille province in the south of France two days ago.”
“No shit. Seems suspicious that the Cifarellis are in France at the same time a dormant dragon is murdered in Paris.”
“Coincidental.” Ellison scoffs. “Marseille is at least an eleven-hour drive from Paris.”
I whip out my phone and do my own calculations. “An hour-and-a-half flight. He’s a fucking billionaire. It would be nothing for him to rent a plane or chopper.”
“You can’t be suggesting that a member of the family did this? If the grandmaster or his son wanted to dissolve the accord, there would be quicker ways to do it than slaying a civilian in public. And why? This accord has worked for them as much as it’s worked for us.”
“Worked for us? After what they did to my nephew and his mate Reagan?” My voice is raised, something I promised myself I wouldn’t do. But after watching the Order hunt Reagan down like an animal and shoot her in the back not even twenty-four hours after forcing her to shift, I know the kind of evil the society is capable of. “I’m saying a member of the family could have done this. Might even be using the wedding as an alibi.”
“Why? There’s no motive.” Ellison glares at me like I’m on the witness stand. “For that matter, if it was them, why openly use the Order’s motto? It would be far easier to believe this murder was committed by someone who wanted us to believe it was them.”
“A third party?” Seb scratches the back of his neck. “Someone not on our radar? ”
Ellison shrugs. “It’s possible.”
Searching for a mysterious third party sounds like a great way to waste time. Good thing I’m in charge. “There’s one way to know for sure. One of us should go to this wedding and confront Stefan.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Seb holds up a hand. “Calm your fire sign, Aries. That’s a good way to end up in a cage. You set foot on Order property, and they have every right to capture you.”
I fold my arms. “If they have the wedding in a church, he’s fair game.”
Seb’s mouth forms a firm line. He wants to support me, but I can tell this idea is pushing his boundaries. “For all you know, they could be having the event at the estate of a friend.”
“The Chateau de la Rosalie.” Remus grunts, holding up his phone again. “Or so it’s rumored.”
“Is that an Order property, Ellison?”
Ellison pulls out his laptop and storms the keyboard, mumbling under his breath, “This is such a bad idea.” His fingers stop their mad dance, and he shoots me a sideways glance that says here it is in black and white. You’re an idiot. “Yes, it’s registered. It’s Order property.”
“I want a map of the boundaries. I only need to get close enough to get inside Stefan’s head.” All dragons have psychic abilities, one of which is the ability to slip into an unguarded mind and read a person’s thoughts. Easy enough if they’re asleep or distracted. Two minutes in Stefan’s dreams and I’ll know what he knows about the attack.
A chorus of negativity rings out around me .
“You can’t be serious!” Ellison bellows.
Even Seb is shaking his head. “It’s too risky. At least clear this with the Oracle first.”
Remus, though, studies me as if he’s working something out in his head. “I actually think it’s a good idea.”
Every eye locks on the brother in surprise.
He strokes the two-day stubble on his chin. “Wedding days are pure chaos. They’ll be bringing in flowers, food, tables, servers. The family is going to be distracted with a million details, and they’ll all be together. With the right balance of stealth and timing, Connor’s right, he could slide into Stefan’s thoughts and get the truth before anyone knows he’s there. And the time to do it is the exact moment we know that every Order member will have their eyes on one spot and one spot only.”
I can’t help the smile that twitches into existence on my face when I pick up what he’s laying down. “During the ceremony.”