Chapter 23
Springing a Trap
Dodger
The forest looks so peaceful in the morning.
I stare out the cabin window, watching the sunlight filter through the pine trees.
It’s a shame I didn’t get to enjoy it more.
.. actually, I like nature much more from a distance than being part of it.
I wouldn’t mind watching Harper’s wolf in his element, however, breeze ruffling his fur and surrounded by all the scents of the forest.
Maybe I’m just feeling nostalgic now that we’re about to leave.
“Are you sure about this?” Harper asks from behind me. The floorboards creak and he places a hand on my shoulder.
I lean back into his touch. “No, but I’m ready for this to be over.”
“This doesn’t need to happen right now. We can do this on your terms and take more time.”
He’d probably keep me hidden in this cabin forever if I asked, consequences be damned. But I’m tired of running, tired of looking over my shoulder, tired of being afraid.
“It’s okay. Gonna feel nervous no matter what, but I don’t want to wait.” I turn away from the window and face him, letting him see the determination on my face. “I’m ready for this to end. I’m ready for this. All of us are.”
Harper nods without hesitation. “We can do this.”
We’re going back to Concordia to expose Asher Rowan for what he really is, a manipulative bastard who summoned a dragon he couldn’t control, then let my brother Jonathan take the fall when people died.
Rowan’s been playing the victim for years, using that tragedy to fuel prejudice against necromancers like me, all while hiding the fact that it was his own reckless ambition that caused the whole mess.
We’re packed and ready by the time the sun climbs higher through the trees. Both my guitar cases sit by the door alongside Harper’s duffel bag, and I pat my pocket to make sure my iPod is still there.
“Ready to go?” Harper asks, shouldering the heavier bags automatically. Never thought the chivalrous boy scout type was something I was into, but it turns out I have a thing for gentlemen. Gentlemen who can also fuck me sideways and turn into vicious beasts.
“All set.” I give him a lopsided smile. “You know, I’m surprised you agreed to use me as bait.”
Harper’s face darkens instantly and a low growl rumbles from his chest. “Bait isn’t how I’d put it.
Rowan wants you and he’s coming for you no matter what.
Catching him in the act is the easiest way to prove he’s up to something.
But you aren’t a sitting duck, Dodger. You can control your powers and face him now, and I don’t plan on leaving your side. ”
“So I’m not bait, I’m just...”
“Well protected and prepared and done running,” Harper supplies without missing a beat.
“Yeah.” That’s exactly how I feel. “I like the way you see it better.”
Harper handles all the details for leaving the cabin and settling into a suitable hotel in the city. Melody and I supervise while he carries the bags and gets us all checked in. Checked into one room with one bed this time.
I focus on charging my iPod and making sure my guitars are all taken care of while Harper unpacks his belongings one at a time and makes sure everything is perfectly in place, suits hung up neatly, shoes resting below in the closet.
Something tells me I’m going to pick on him for his orderliness more than once, but it will be nice to have someone around who likes and understands the power of organization.
I haven’t given him a hard time yet since he doesn’t say anything about Melody settling into the lone cushy chair, a compromise instead of making herself comfortable on the bed.
The plan is simple enough: be visible, let Rowan make his move, and catch him in the act. In practice, it means wandering around Concordia like a target with a bullseye painted on my back, trying to look casual while Harper scans every shadow for threats.
But I have to admit, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon than exploring a magical city with my mate.
We end up in this incredible broom shop on the top floor of a towering building where massive skylights open directly onto the sky.
Above us, people soar through the air on test flights.
There are apparently entire covens dedicated to flying and brooms, and I love that magic can be so fun and joyful.
“Wow,” I breathe, craning my head up, completely mesmerized watching witches soar, performing loops and dives while getting a feel for the merchandise.
“Focus on solid ground,” Harper instructs, steering me away from a display for enchanted brooms that sweep away negative energy. “You almost ran into, well, everything.”
I look at him long enough to blow a kiss. “Good thing I have you to watch where I’m going.”
“You aren’t flying.”
Unfortunately, I agree. Being up in the air away from Harper and trying to fly for the first time ever doesn’t feel like the safest position for a guy with a target on his back. Maybe another time.
“It’s an accident waiting to happen,” he grumbles. His golden eyes track the fliers above us with undisguised horror. “Who goes up that high and trusts a stick to keep them safe?”
“The stick is magical?” I try. When he scoffs, I suddenly find the surroundings next to me a lot more fascinating than what’s happening up in the air. “Ethan Harper, are you afraid of heights?”
“No!” Unable to help it, he glares at the brooms flying above us. “I’m smart.”
How does he keep getting more and more fascinating?
A tough Alpha wolf with a broomstick phobia.
When I offer him one hand for moral support and cover his eyes with the other while trying to escort him away from the scary common household products, the glower he rewards me with is one I’ll savor for life, but he does take my hand.
I’m still grinning when we leave the store, our fingers intertwined as we walk down the bustling street.
A few fliers are still visible high above, one broom making a trail of sparks as it soars.
We’re debating whether to visit the potions shop down the street or see whether the carnival is still in town when things change.
Leave it to my pursuer to ruin a perfectly lovely day.
“Well, well. What a pleasant surprise.”
We both freeze at the familiar voice. Asher Rowan steps out from behind a street vendor’s stall, looking perfectly composed in an expensive charcoal suit. His smile is warm and grandfatherly, which somehow makes it infinitely more unsettling.
I feel Harper’s hand tighten around mine as we both go on high alert. This is what we expected, what we planned for, but somehow I thought we’d have more than a few hours before he made his move.
“This is a public street,” Harper warns. “There are civilians here.”
“Right, there’s no need to cause a scene in such a lovely neighborhood,” Rowan says with that practiced smile of his. “We’re all friends here, after all.”
“How did you find us so soon?” I ask.
Rowan’s smile widens. “Good old-fashioned luck.”
“Bullshit,” Harper counters.
“No, really.” He chuckles like we’re sharing a joke.
“Of course, I did pay a small fortune for said luck to go my way. That’s the beauty of Concordia, so many witches with various talents, all eager to make some money.
They couldn’t pinpoint you precisely with all the magic in the air interfering, but I significantly increased the odds that our paths would cross. ”
“You bought something to bring us together?” I think about the glamor he used to disguise himself, the necromantic tools he thought would make him powerful.
Sensing a pattern here. “That’s what you do, isn’t it?
You don’t have any real talent, so you buy what you need from witches with actual skills. ”
For just a moment, Rowan’s pleasant mask slips. His eyes tighten and I know I’ve hit a nerve.
“Witches only get one craft,” he says after a moment. “What’s the harm in supplementing my arsenal?”
“We know what you did,” Harper says. “How you messed with forces beyond your understanding and pinned the blame on someone else when it went wrong and your pet dragon wouldn’t obey you.”
“You blamed my brother,” I say. “You covered up what you did and pretended to be a victim for years.”
“Do you want to know how I did it?” Rowan asks. “On second thought, maybe we should go somewhere more private.” He eyes people passing by across the street and consults his fancy pocket watch. “I do have places to be.”
“Don’t let us stop you,” Harper says.
Rowan casually angles his watch and opens it and I don’t realize things are going wrong until the watch face pulses with an eerie light, flashing in Harper’s direction.
His whole body goes still. His eyes are fixated on the watch, expression completely slack.
“Harper!” I grab his arm, but he doesn’t respond. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
Rowan snaps the watch closed abruptly, clicking another button. Harper stumbles backward, seeming disoriented.
“Quick, Detective Harper!” Rowan voices urgently. “Arrest this criminal!”
Harper turns toward me, confusion written across his face as he tries to focus. “What the... criminal?” He sways, looking unsteady on his feet.
“Ignore the psycho being psychotic. Snap out of it.” I slap his face, not sure how else to wake him up. He reminds me of the confused squirrels Melody and I used her befuddling bark on during another practice session at the cabin. Did Rowan buy something with similar effects?
“Dodger?” Harper murmurs, focusing on me with extreme difficulty. “You aren’t… not a criminal…”
Rowan snaps his fingers. “Yes, I feared that was too much time to steal. No matter.”
While Harper’s still shaking off whatever the hell that watch did to him, Rowan springs into action and lunges toward me.
An instinct kicks in and Harper moves instantly, getting between us and intercepting him with supernatural speed.
Rowan twists to meet him and they grapple for one terrible moment, bodies pressed together as Rowan jerks his arm upward. Harper goes rigid.
Rowan’s grinning when he backs away, stashing something in his pocket.
It starts to sink in what happened, what I’ll see when I get in front of Harper—Rowan attacked him, he had a weapon—but the sight is still horrible and punches the air from my lungs.
Blood spreads from a wound on Harper’s abdomen. Oh god.
“Harper!” I clutch him, my hands immediately going to the wound and coming away bloody. He makes a choked little noise that tears into my heart.
“The blade is special,” Rowan shares. “It’ll slow his healing considerably.”
“Oh my god.” Freaking out and trying to support a werewolf twice my size isn’t a good combination, and we both go down to our knees while I babble out reassuring nonsense. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”
“Hurting one of my own detectives is the last thing I wanted,” Rowan says, his voice dripping with false regret. “But he should have minded his own business. This is between you and me, Dodger.”
Through tear-blurred vision, I glare up at Rowan. “You bastard. I’m going to stop you.”
Before he gets any other terrible ideas, I whistle sharply and summon my hound. Melody materializes in front of me instantly, her spectral form crackling with otherworldly energy. She plants herself between Rowan and us, a low growl rumbling from her throat that makes the air itself vibrate.
Rowan takes a step back, catching on too damn quickly as he sees the air ripple and dodges the bark she releases. “Impressive. But I’m not here for you today.” He straightens his tie with infuriating calm. “I’ll be in touch soon, Dodger.”
“Help!” I shout desperately as people start to realize something is wrong. “Someone call for help! Please!”
By the time I look back, Rowan has melted into the crowd like smoke. Harper’s weight is heavy against me, and blood continues to seep from the wound.
We were wrong. So fucking wrong. We thought Rowan would come for me directly, that I was the target. But he didn’t want to capture me today. He wanted to take away my protection first.
And now Harper’s hurt because of me.