Chapter 2
Marcus
The woman is a pain in the ass. Beautiful, no doubt about that, with those defiant emerald eyes and porcelain skin. But beauty isn’t something that impresses me after all these years.
There’s something about her. And I don’t know if it annoys me because it’s infuriating…or because I can’t ignore the appeal.
Kara’s accusations ring in my ears. “This is what vampires do – take what they want and destroy lives.” Her eyes had blazed with such conviction, such raw power.
And that crackle when our skin had touched.
What the hell was that? Not the trace of magic from the charm she’d been holding, I’m certain of it. Something else.
I stride into my penthouse, yanking off my jacket and tossing it onto a leather armchair. The city sprawls below through the windows that span the front of my apartment, a glittering expanse of lights that usually soothes my mind. Not tonight.
That witch. That infuriating, captivating witch.
I pour myself a glass of bourbon, though alcohol does little for our kind. The familiar burn is welcome as I down it in one swallow.
“Computer, display Evelyn Blackwood’s file.
” The smart glass windows along one wall shift, overlaying text and images.
The Blackwood matriarch’s face appears alongside details of her position on the Conclave, known associates, recent movements.
Her features are smooth, ageless, and even in her advanced years, as beautiful as her granddaughters.
I frown at the photo, remembering the flashing images I’d picked up from the crystal charm earlier.
I close my eyes, focusing on the lingering hints of magic I’d sensed at the Blackwood home.
The images flash through my mind – snippets of dark corridors, stone walls slick with moisture, the sharp tang of saltwater.
Underground passages near the harbor, perhaps?
But then the scene shifts – an abandoned factory with broken windows, metal staircases winding upward.
Another flash – an assembly of steel that makes no sense.
Damn it. Lucien’s moving her, making it impossible to get a fix on their location.
I press my fingers to my temples, trying to hold on to the fragments. Five hundred years of tracking has honed my ability to sense magical traces, but Lucien knows how to counter such talents. He’s an old hand at this game.
My phone buzzes. Lake Blackwood’s name appears on the screen with a text.
Any progress?
I type out a response.
He’s moving her through different locations. I’m getting flashes, but nothing concrete enough to track.
His response comes soon after.
Conclave gathering tonight. Georgia and I are headed there now. Need both councils together on this. Can you pull some strings from your side?
I give a grunt. I have some influence now that I’m stepping into Darick’s shoes, but it remains to be seen how far that extends.
Probably. If Arabella’s in the mood.
He responds with a thumbs-up, and the text string ends. I rub a hand along my jawline, scowling at the still-lit screen. The Blackwood man was dead-set against us but seems to be coming around. Let’s hope his daughter sees sense soon, too.
Still frowning at my phone, I shoot off a text to the kid who handles our tech.
Pull up any footage you can find around vampire territories near water.
It’s a long shot, but it might bear some fruit if I can narrow the field down.
I pour another bourbon, trying to shake the memory of Kara’s scent – rose petals in the sunshine; I can’t remember the last time I smelled anything touched by the sun.
Her power had been strangely electrifying, leaving traces that still linger.
Damn witch. Everything about her sets my teeth on edge – that sharp tongue, the way she holds herself like she’s ready for battle, those flashing green eyes full of contempt.
And yet…
The door clicks open. Darick’s familiar footsteps cross the polished floor.
“Drinking alone?” He helps himself to my bourbon. “That’s never a good sign.” He takes a sip and smacks his lips. “Ah. Been a long time since I could really savor a good drink.”
“Just thinking.” I turn from the window. “How’s the clan handover going with the other elders?”
“Smooth enough. They’re practical – they know that having you step into my role makes sense with everything that’s happening.
” He settles into one of the leather chairs.
I stare back out of the window. “You seem distracted.” Darick’s tone turns knowing.
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain green-eyed witch? ”
I shoot him a dark look. “She’s insufferable.”
“Mmhmm.” He smirks. “That’s not what I asked.”
“She hates our kind.”
“Can you blame her?” Darick swirls his drink. “After what happened to her sisters?”
My phone buzzes – the tech kid’s response. I welcome the interruption, ignoring Darick’s smug grin as I check the message. It’s short and to the point.
Got something interesting. Files on their way.
My mailbox pings with an incoming file. I tap a button and images flood the smart glass – security footage from various locations around the harbor and waterfront district. For several minutes, Darick and I examine the information, scrolling and stopping as we pick out anomalies.
“Look at this.” I gesture at one feed showing the old fish processing plant. “Movement here, just after midnight.” The grainy footage reveals shadowy figures slipping through a side entrance.
Darick leans forward, studying the images. “Can we enhance it?”
“Already done.” I swipe through enhanced stills. “See the way they move? Definitely vampires. And that build…” I point to one lean figure. “Could be Lucien.”
“Seems likely.” Darick’s eyes narrow. “But why would he be so careless? Security cameras aren’t exactly subtle.”
I run a hand over my hair. I’m frustrated.
“That’s what’s bothering me. It feels staged – too perfect.
” The footage shows clear entry points, obvious movement patterns.
“He knows we’d check cameras first. This could be meant to draw us away from where he’s really keeping her.
” I exhale. “It feels like we’re grasping at straws. ”
“What about that charm you mentioned? The one Kara had?”
“Would’ve been useful if she’d let me examine it properly.” I scowl, remembering her fierce refusal when I’d reached for it. “The magical signature was strong – could have given us more to work with.”
Darick’s lips curve into that infuriating smirk. “I think she’s gotten under your skin.”
“She hasn’t gotten under anything,” I snap, perhaps too quickly. “She’s stubborn and difficult and—”
“And beautiful.” Darick chuckles. “These Blackwood women have a way, old friend. I speak from experience.”
“This isn’t like that.” I turn back to the wide panel of glass, changing the subject. “It’s hard to tell who’s moving through there. Any one of them could be Evelyn Blackwood.”
“Or none of them.” Darick’s brow furrows as he leans closer.
“That’s what I’m worried about. If we convince Arabella that we need to rush in there to save the witch, then get there and find nothing, she’ll think we’ve cried wolf.”
“That’s the last thing we need,” he mutters, rising from his chair. “There’s something else we need to discuss.” Darick’s tone shifts, growing heavier. “The artifacts Lucien’s been collecting.”
I set my glass down hard enough that the crystal protests. “Like the one he used on Mia?”
“Exactly. Ancient vessels designed to store magical energy.” Darick paces to the window, his reflection ghosting across the cityscape below. “He drained her power when he lured her to that meeting, storing it in that cursed receptacle.”
“And now he has Evelyn.” The implications hit me. “She’s one of the most powerful witches alive. If he taps into her power, too, he’ll have a formidable weapon.”
“Which means whatever he’s planning, it’s big.” Darick turns back to me.
I run my hand around the back of my neck, mind racing. “Hardly a surprise. We’ve suspected for a while that he’s after Arabella’s seat. But maybe it goes further. Because he’s pulling in the heavy hitters. First Mia, now Evelyn – both Blackwoods, both immensely powerful.”
“And both connected to prophecies and powerful sorcery through their bloodline.”
“But what’s the endgame?” I move to my desk, pulling up files on the artifacts we’ve traced to Lucien. “What does he intend to do with so much power?”
Darick chuckles, and I smile wryly. “Okay, stupid question. The fucker’s always been power-hungry.”
“You’re right, though,” he adds. “With the influence he already has, plus the magic he seems to have amassed, I wouldn’t be surprised if he could stage a coup right now.”
I grimace because the prospect is frightening. Lucien Marlowe has caused enough trouble without being given the reins to our kingdom. If he was our leader, I don’t want to think about what might happen.
My attention snaps to Darick as his phone rings. His expression shifts instantly as he answers. “Rowan? Slow down—”
Even from across the room, I can hear the panic in her voice. Something about Kara. Gone. Acting alone.
Damn it.
“She did what?” Darick’s tone sharpens. He puts the call on speaker.
“She and Mia were arguing about following up a lead on one of Lucien’s properties,” Rowan explains, her voice tight with worry. “Next thing we knew, she’d shadow-jumped. Mia’s beside herself – she wanted to go after her, but we wouldn’t let her.”
I slam my glass down. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! That reckless, stubborn—” I cut myself off, rubbing a hand over my face. We’d specifically discussed the need for careful planning, for working together. But no, Kara Blackwood has to charge in alone, like some avenging angel.
“Which property?” I demand.
“She said something about an estate in the north?”
I heave an exasperated breath, my jaw clenching. “The old Delacourt place. Marlowe took it over in the early 1900s.”
“Goddammit,” Darick mutters. “That place is a fortress of dark sorcery and deadly traps.”
“And she’s walking right into it.”
“We need to do something, Darick.” Rowan’s voice rises an octave. “Mom and Dad have gone to the Conclave, and we can’t reach them. This is something we would normally have turned to Gran to help with, but—” She stops. Obviously, that’s not an option right now.
“I’ll handle it,” I say, already moving toward the door. I pause, confused by the urgency coursing through me. Since when do I feel such a compelling need to protect a witch who clearly despises me? The feeling makes no sense – she’s made it abundantly clear she wants nothing to do with me.
Yet here I am, reaching for my jacket, ready to rush to her aid.
“Marcus.” Darick’s voice holds a warning. “Don’t go in without backup.”
“There’s no time,” I growl, frustrated by both the situation and my inexplicable reaction to it. “That witch is going to get herself killed.”
And for some reason I can’t explain, the thought is completely unacceptable to me.