Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Caden
I march into Sydney’s office and barely refrain from slamming the door. The fiery sun setting over the jagged London skyline matches my mood.
How in the bloody hell did Aquarius acquire the Doomsday Diary to put it in Sydney Blair’s very human hands? She can’t keep the book. It’s too dangerous by far.
I need to seize it.
I’m besieged by an equally strong urge to punch both Bram Rion and Jamie What’s-his-name.
Wanting to beat Bram to a pulp makes sense. He embodies so much of what I despise about magic: the blithe assumption of supremacy, the unpredictability, and the utter inability to compromise, not to mention the total lack of awareness that it might be required. Oh, and the blatant inequality. In the human world, anyone can learn to defend themselves and grow stronger each day—or buy a better weapon. But a witch or wizard never has more magical abilities than they were born with. If they find themselves at the mercy of someone more evil and powerful… God help them.
But I don’t understand my reaction to Jamie. Every time the prat even looks at Sydney, I barely restrain my homicidal urges. My gut compels me to touch her, take her, possess her until she admits she’s mine. I’ve done my best to ignore the impulse, but she’s become a fever in my blood.
Still, I’m on a mission. I’m good at those, thanks to the U.S. Marine Corps. Focus. Get in, get the job done, get out. End of story. Don’t do anything stupid—like fall in life-altering lust with Sydney. Yet no matter how much my desire defies logic, I can’t stop.
I’ve been tasked with stopping the saucy reporter from exposing magickind to the humans—a move that will protect her, too—and discover if Anka is her source of information. Unfortunately, I can’t bloody focus on anything except pushing Sydney against a wall and kissing her senseless before I fuck her into sighing bliss.
I wasn’t naive enough to believe that my assignment would be easy, but she’s been a distraction and a roadblock at every turn. The woman is both infuriating and admirably determined. Throw in the sudden and unexpected appearance of the Doomsday Diary? This has become what my platoon buddies called a clusterfuck.
Cursing, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial an increasingly familiar number.
Bram answers immediately. “You have news?”
Do I ever, but first things first. “How is Lucan?”
Bram hesitates. “Weak. We’re doing our best, but…”
Those words are a stab in the chest. Without an energy surrogate, my brother’s condition has only worsened in the past two weeks. “You best not let him die while I’m in London doing your dirty work.”
“Believe me, if I had anyone else suited to this task, you would still be gnashing your teeth at Lucan’s bedside. But matters are too critical here for me to be playing office. Duke can pass as a human, but who would believe that the Duke of Hurstgrove wants a job at a paranormal tabloid? That leaves a fifteen-hundred-year-old warrior, an attitude-challenged wizard, and you. You alone have both experience in photography and the human world.”
“Your problem is mine only as long as my brother is alive. Is that clear?”
“As if you’d drawn me a picture,” Bram shoots back. “I’m against this, but Sabelle insists on providing Lucan energy. Or trying, anyway.”
As a surrogate? Bram is a protective older brother, so his reluctance to let her serve a madman is hardly a surprise. But Sabelle has proven she’s a determined witch with the unusual ability to make others feel whatever she wants with a touch. If anyone can provide Lucan energy now, it’s Sabelle.
“Tell your sister I appreciate her.” More than she knows.
“No guarantee it will work.”
“It must.” If she fails… I can’t face that possibility. “If Lucan dies?—
“You no longer care about my cause. That’s the only reason I’m letting Sabelle carry out this ridiculous scheme,” he spits back. “Believe me, as desperately as we need help with this fight, I’ll happily release you from this obligation the moment I can. I want only those committed to the cause.”
I don’t care if Bram boots me from the magical army I never wanted to join. Being back among magickind merely reminds me of its worst. This gut-wrenching madness of Lucan’s merely underscores all the reasons I’ve loathed it for decades.
“Rion, do you honestly believe that you and a handful of ragtag wizards can defeat the most powerful magical figure in a millennium and his growing army?”
“Perhaps not, but we’ll fail if we don’t try. Tell me your news.”
He’s right. This argument is wasting time. “Sydney is guarding the name of her information source like it’s a bloody national secret.”
Bram curses. “We’re running out of time, and every word she prints about this story puts a fresh target on her back. Make her stop.”
“How?”
“I don’t care. Seduce her.”
I grit my teeth. How the devil am I supposed to bamboozle the woman I’m completely enthralled with? I’m far too serious to have Bram’s sort of charm. If I get any closer to Sydney, I’ll strip her, bury every inch I have inside her, and ask questions later. On the other hand, if something happens to her, I’ll come undone. Unhinged. It’s possible I alone stand between her and Mathias’s wrath.
I can’t fail her.
“It’s too late for that. Sydney’s next column will blow the lid off the magical war story. Before the bodies were removed from the tunnel following the battle with Mathias, Sydney’s previous photographer took a few pictures. Grainy and fuzzy, which works in our favor, but no one else managed to snap any, so she still scooped every other news source. For that photo alone, people will read Out of this Realm in droves, especially when she publishes that Mathias and his Anarki army are out to dissolve the Social Order and eradicate the Doomsday Brethren.”
“She knows about us? Who the bloody hell is her source of information? You need to find out now .”
“Don’t you think I’m fucking trying? Unfortunately, the news gets even worse. Sydney acquired the Doomsday Diary fifteen minutes ago.”
“ What? ” Bram’s shock reverberates over the phone before he curses a stream of loud, ugly words. “You’re absolutely certain?”
“I know of only one old red book bearing Morgana Le Fay’s symbol.”
“Fuck. Buy it from her. Steal it from her. Now.”
“I doubt she’ll part with it. The blasted thing was a birthday gift from a dear friend.”
“Who?”
“Aquarius.”
“The astrological sign?”
“Sydney’s assistant. Is she your missing mate?”
“That wasn’t the name—” Bram sighs. “Describe her. Perhaps my missing ‘wife’ is using an alias.”
“Short, almost fey looking. Brown, wavy hair to her waist, green eyes?—”
“That’s not her. Which raises the question, if Sydney acquired the book from this woman?—”
“Aquarius.”
“Who is definitely not my mate, how did she get her hands on it?”
“I was hoping you could shed some light.”
“No idea. Ask her. Maybe she’ll know how to locate the minx who answered my Call, then skipped out.” Frustration oozes from Bram’s every syllable. “After you recover the diary. That’s our first—and most important—priority.”
“If we don’t, Sydney is a smart, tenacious reporter. And she’s determined to write ‘fresh paranormal stories.’ Her words.”
“You think she’ll write about the diary?”
“I don’t merely think. She will.”
Bram groans. “Dear god, she has no idea?—”
“None. That’s the only good news. But once she figures out the actual purpose of the Doomsday Diary…”
“If that bloody story hits the internet, she’ll be dead.”
The thought sends me into a cold panic I don’t understand. I barely know the woman. I’m here to save my brother. But I’m consumed by thoughts of Sydney and her safety. I’ll protect her—or die trying. “She’s been told the book will grant her sexual fantasies. She seems skeptical. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
“At least until you wrest that book from her.”
“I’ll work on that and the name of her source. You’re coming to help, right? Use a bit of magic and?—”
“Can’t. There was another Anarki attack two hours ago. I’ve just returned from the Pullmans’ estate. Well, what’s left of it. Burned to the ground. Their newly transitioned daughter is missing. Everyone else is dead. I have to report to the Council.”
That’s grave news. If the Anarki are attacking again, that means Mathias is on the mend and his power is rising once more. I don’t want to care, but… I rub at my tired eyes. After seeing so much war and death in my life, attacks on families, especially on women, trouble me.
What if he finds Sydney?
“What can you do?”
“Only what we have been: search for Mathias while trying to locate Shock, whose loyalties are annoyingly questionable.”
Not as far as I’m concerned. He’s as dodgy as the rest of the House of Denzell.
“And his brother, Zain,” Bram continues. “The little prick appears to be Mathias’s right-hand lackey.”
“Have you considered telling other magical families about these attacks so they can protect themselves.”
“Are you going to pretend you care about magickind now?”
I restrain a growl. “I wouldn’t wish what’s happened to my family on another.”
Bram sighs. “Rumors are beginning to spread about Mathias’s return, but the decision to officially tell magickind falls with the Council. They issue edicts and approve transcasts.”
“Certainly a few words on how best to defend yourself?—”
“Which is why no such edict will be allowed any time soon. No one knows how to defend against Mathias, and the Council would rather err on the side of silence than inaccuracy. Bloody stupid bastards.”
“You’re one of them,” I point out.
“The lone voice of reason, I assure you. I’ve long argued that we should communicate magical news via transcasts or the like frequently. But by the time the Council agrees to the verbiage…” Bram scoffs. “It’s old news.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Dawdling old fools, Lucan has long called them, even our Uncle Sterling at times.
I’m curious why Bram stays on the Council, likely enduring one frustration after another. But it’s none of my affair. I don’t want to become more entangled in the magical world. I’m already in too deep.
“Will you come once you’ve helped the victims of the latest attack?”
“If I’m able,” Bram vows. “Keep working on Sydney Blair.”
I can think of any number of ways in which I’d like to work on Sydney. Completely naked with her on her back, restrained to my bed, comes immediately to mind. But I need to focus on my mission. “I will.”
“And if you can snag the book, do it. We’ll worry about the consequences later.”