Chapter 9
JAMISON
Hawthorne conjures a portal to take us to Germany.
The attack drained quite a bit of both Charlie’s and my magic, so we all decide it’s best to fly back to the U.S.
Weary and in pain, Gatlin eases me into a seat on Phaedra’s jet.
I watch through half-mast lids as she takes a seat in the aisle across from me.
She looks good. Too damn good. Part of me wants to yank her into my arms and kiss the bloody hell out of her, but the other half is still furious.
Worried bright blue eyes keep scanning me from head to toe.
“I’m not going to die,” I say dryly, lifting my lids. Tension fills the small cabin. Hawthorne shifts restlessly beside me. “You didn’t have to come with Gatlin to save me.” Even saying the words stings my pride, but I’m tired of the secrets and want to see if she’s willing to be honest.
“Gatlin and I were in Germany when we received Hawthorne’s message,” she replies. Her eyes dart to Gatlin, and he gives her a subtle nod. She bites her lip, then continues. “I know I screwed everything up between us, but the thought of you hurt or in danger…I couldn’t stand it. I needed to come.”
Reluctant as they may be, her words are a balm to the fury inside me. But I’m not ready to talk about what happened, and certainly not on a plane with Maverick watching everything like it’s a bloody show.
Instead, I ask, “What were you two doing in Germany? Chasing down a panel?”
Gatlin snorts. “Committing a crime.” When I turn my head to face him, he exhales heavily.
“The only crown Phaedra deemed good enough to give Hera was locked in a museum. With no access to the council’s resources, we had to steal it.
” He goes on to explain Charlie and Maverick’s role and the necklace they also stole.
Astonished, I laugh. Gatlin loves rules and order, and yet, here he is, actively breaking them to help Phaedra. Hmm. Phaedra rolls her eyes, making me pause. Those two have certainly gotten close.
“How far have you gotten on this new quest?” Hawthorne asks in a smooth tone. His green eyes dart to Phaedra, a look of yearning in their depths, but he quickly drops his gaze to the glass of water in front of him.
Phaedra explains in a tired voice, and a portion of my anger shifts toward the gods.
After the war with the supernaturals, they receded, but it’s obvious they’re still watching.
And playing games. Hasn’t Phaedra done enough for them?
No wonder she’s been afraid. The power they hold over her life and future is absolute.
I wish I knew what they’re planning. A pomegranate appears in front of my face, bringing me back into the conversation.
“I’m second-guessing the pomegranate and lotus,” Phaedra explains as she hands the fruit to Hawthorne. “They seem too simple. The last thing I want to do is insult Hera.” There’s a slight undercurrent of contempt in her voice that echoes in the small space.
Hawthorne’s hands lightly rub the red surface. “I might be able to help.” He sets the fruit down in front of him to study it. “So, you have the two objects for the first two temples, correct? The crown and peacock pin?”
“Correct,” she confirms. “I need to do some research to see if I can find another alternative for the lotus.” Her finger slides over the delicate petal of the flower in front of her. “And the scepter.”
“Do you want…” Hawthorne trails off. “Never mind.”
When it’s clear he isn’t going to say anything else, she sighs and turns away.
In minutes, she looks to be engrossed in her laptop, but the stiffness in her shoulders tells me she’s struggling to focus.
I look over at Gatlin and find him staring at Hawthorne with a tinge of anger in his expression.
Really, though. What does he expect? This family, our bond, is everything, and her revelation tore it to pieces.
Gatlin looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
I know he’s expecting a debrief, but I want to wait until we’re alone.
I flick a glance at Maverick, then back to Gatlin, and he nods in understanding.
Besides, I need to rest. Pain wracks my body.
The spell they used to siphon my magic should have left me with nothing.
I was able to resist it for far longer than I expected. How, though?
I turn my signet ring over in my palm. The curse is gone. Probably my imagination, but it seems lighter without its heavy burden. It rolls around in my palm as I think about the last few days and the role it played in my capture.
From the moment I arrived, I could tell Lady Carrington was under a spell. She had the same blank look in her eyes that she’d had at the museum that night. It made me uneasy. I knew I could use it to my advantage, though, to get her to talk.
Confronting her, I slipped off the ring, but before I could access my magic, someone snuck up behind me and fed power into the signet and the curse, putting me in complete stasis. This gave Lady Carrington the time she needed to steadily siphon my power without me stopping her.
Only someone who knew the ring was cursed could have done it, which means it could only have been my father.
But why? I rub a hand across my chest as the phantom pain from my childhood surfaces.
He might not love me like most fathers love their sons, but he’s fiercely protective of our lineage.
None of it makes any sense. I rub my head, trying to stave off the headache threatening me.
Since we left Lady Carrington’s, my magic has slowly been trickling into the void inside me, but it’s going to take several days to fill the well, so to speak. Once it does, there’s nowhere he can run that I won’t find him.
The massive white farmhouse with its wraparound porch is a complete surprise. Gatlin mentioned Phaedra’s house in the country, but he failed to mention this was her home. No wonder her condo was sparse. It was literally only a place to sleep.
Gatlin helps me out of the SUV, up the steps, and into the house.
Every board beneath my feet is worn with a softness that only comes from age.
Inside, the white boards turn to gleaming wooden floors and an entryway full of afternoon light.
The grand staircase in front of us leads to a second floor.
A small hallway opens up past the entrance.
Gatlin looks at Phaedra. “Where do you want him to stay?”
Her brow furrows. “There’s a downstairs bedroom that might be easier for him. It’s small, though.” She scans me from head to toe, and the lines on her face deepen. “Why don’t you help him to the couch, and I’ll go make up the bed.”
Hawthorne steps into the house with our bags and looks at Gatlin. “Where should I put the bags?”
Gatlin scowls at him. “Why don’t you ask Phaedra? It’s her house.” He guides me to the left, muttering under his breath about elves getting their act together.
I chuckle, and he narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not any better.” He carefully helps me sit on the couch, then leaves me.
He’s not wrong. Phaedra and I need to talk, but I’m too angry to have a civil discussion with her right now. Later. When I can look at things objectively.
My stomach growls, and I slowly peel open my eyes. She was right. The bedroom is small, with only the wrought iron bed I’m lying on and a nightstand. It doesn’t matter. I was completely exhausted when we got here and immediately crashed.
Not wanting to get up, I lie in the dark for a few minutes, listening to the night.
Animals or insects, I’m not sure which, sing outside the house, their song harmonious in the quiet evening.
Somewhere in the house, I hear Gatlin and Hawthorne talking but can’t make out their words.
Forcing myself up, I shuffle over to my bag, pull out a pair of trousers, and slip them on.
Steadily making my way out of the room, I follow the voices and find Gatlin and Hawthorne in the kitchen, sharing a beer.
“That looks good,” I say.
Gatlin jumps up, but I wave him off and slide onto the barstool beside Hawthorne.
Gatlin strides over to the fridge. “Here.” He hands me a beer and a glass, because he knows I find drinking out of the bottle quite uncivilized. Then he returns to the fridge and pulls out a plate. “I’ll heat up dinner for you.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, taking a long drink. Cool, refreshing, and very light. I grimace, and they both laugh. “American beer.”
Hawthorne runs a healing hand over my body, and warmth settles into my bones. “Your magic is slowly returning, and your body is recovering. I wish I could speed it up, but it’s going to take time.”
I flash him a smile of thanks. “Where’s Phaedra?”
Hawthorne’s answering smile disappears. “In her office. Researching the items for Hera’s quest.”
“And wearing herself down in the process,” Gatlin inserts with a frustrated sigh.
“For three weeks, she searched for the panel in Greece and Italy, barely eating or sleeping. Since she’s been home, she’s spent every night trying to find answers to this new puzzle.
She could really use some help.” His brows lower into one of his signature scowls, but I know he’s not upset with her.
I glance at my watch in surprise. “It’s two a.m. When does she sleep?”
A small, cryptic smile appears on his lips as he looks at the clock. “Should be soon.” He sets the late dinner down in front of me. “Eat. We’ll check on her after.”
Intrigued, I have to fight the urge to shovel food into my mouth.
Taking advantage of our time alone, I tell them what happened at Lady Carrington’s manor.
“My father was using an old credit card, which I traced to the village near her manor. I went there to confront him but never saw him, only her.”
Something tickles the back of my mind but no matter how hard I focus, I can’t think of what it was.
Maybe later, when I’m fully rested, it will come to me.
“She looked like she was under a spell. I thought I could use her condition to get some answers out of her. The attack came from behind me. My father is the only one who knew the ring was cursed. It had to be him. The bloody bastard.”
Gatlin leans back against the counter. “Sounds like it. You’re not strong enough to go after him right now, though. So, what’s the plan?”
Hawthorne raises a hand. “I tracked the elf from Harlequin to a flat in London. Mercer was with him. Based on the way they were acting, I think they’re a couple.” He turns toward me. “He’s Osian’s youngest son, Caron.”
Osian’s the councilmember for the elves.
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anyone who’s not involved in this.
” Hawthorne’s eyes spark with anger as he contemplates the possibility.
“I doubt Osian’s involved. He’s too enamored with his position to risk it.
Tomorrow, I’ll go have a chat with Caron. ”
“After what happened with me, I think Gatlin’s right. At least partially,” I reply with a shake of my head. “There’s nothing we can do to help Mathias until he contacts us, but the rest of us will go nowhere alone. We’ll go together.”
Hawthorne nods. “Let’s give you another day or two to recover, then we can track him down. I have a feeling he might be able to give us a few answers. At the very least, he and Mercer can tell us how Harlequin is involved in this mess.”
I agree, knowing I need time to get to full power before I tackle my father. I look at Gatlin. “What about you and Phaedra?”
He opens his mouth to answer, then suddenly tilts his head. Unexpectedly, a broad smile appears, startling me. Gatlin rarely smiles. “Follow me…quietly.”
Hawthorne and I exchange a glance, then stand to do as he says. He leads us to Phaedra’s office where she’s sitting at her desk, computer in front of her, pen in hand with her head lying on her arm. Lightly snoring.
Gatlin walks over, removes the pen, closes her computer, then easily scoops her into his arms. She doesn’t wake.
Instead, she softly sighs and curls into his body, nuzzling his chest. A twinge of envy hits me.
Gatlin smiles at her, then crosses over to the couch to gently lay her down.
Wisps of silky dark hair fall across her face.
Gatlin slides a finger across her cheekbone to sweep them behind her ear, then pulls the throw from the back of the couch to cover her.
It’s clear he’s done this a lot. Maybe every night he’s been here with her? They’ve obviously gotten closer.
Hawthorne’s sharp inhalation is loud in the quiet air. He takes a half-step forward, then stops.
My own hands clench with the need to pull her into my arms, but I hold myself back.
Gatlin stares down at her. “She’s determined to find the panels and fix this mess.
Even talked about getting the other ones from the vampires.
” He glances up at us, his brow furrowing in a mixture of frustration and anger.
“Whether you forgive her or not, she needs our help. I know you’re both hurting, but we can’t leave her to face this alone.
I’m going with her on Hera’s quest, but she needs your help too.
So, get your heads on straight before I knock some sense into you both.
Hear me?” We both nod. “Good. I’m going to bed.
” He stalks out, leaving us with the sleeping Phaedra and a hell of a lot of feelings twisting us up inside.