CHAPTER 42
Caster was certain of two things as Mark explained the plan to Marcus and his father.
He loved him more than he thought possible, and the Goddess’s wisdom was undeniable.
He was perfect for him in every way. His grasp of strategy, the way his beautiful mind put everything together with incredible precision, made him the perfect person for him.
The pressure that came with being the Crown Prince of a race that expected him to be on top of his game at every turn was too much to bear sometimes.
But would they accept a werewolf as co-ruler? That’s what he wanted Mark to be.
He smiled at the look of pure admiration on his father’s face as the details of the plan tumbled out of Mark with enough enthusiasm to give him hope that they would win this fight.
The Mark who had begged him to make the world stop, too scared of the influence Zeke had on his wolf, was gone.
It was easy to see where the courage came from.
In that memory of their encounter, Zeke proved himself the weak despot who desired power, but was unsure what to do with it once he had it.
Those were easy to deal with. And as much as Caster wanted to wring the life out of him, he could see the wisdom in letting Dean handle that.
Instability in the werewolves’ ranks would not help any of them.
“Yes,” His father said over the silence that had ensued once Mark was done with the basic layout of the plan.
“But I am still rather concerned about your safety.”
He looked at Marcus, who nodded, their ability to communicate without words a testament to their centuries of friendship.
The King then turned his attention to Dean.
“We were having the same problem with vampires who chose my brother’s side, but like you, we have that handled.”
Dean’s nod was emphatic enough that Caster was sure any revolt in his ranks was dead and buried. “On my side, it was mostly Zeke’s family and friends. They’ve all been persuaded to see the error of their ways.”
“What are we doing with our traitors?” Cy asked, and Caster thanked his brother for seeing aspects of this he failed to.
“You know the penalty, and I suspect everyone knew it, which is why your uncle failed to get too many recruits.” Marcus’s answer was reassuring. “I am more concerned with the Made-Vampires he mass-manufactured. This will be a major PR issue.”
“The witch just wanted them for her power. I think she killed them again to speed up the process,” Riley said.
Turning a human into a vampire was a process that took too much time and effort to justify the payoff.
Most humans didn’t survive the initial turning, and even if they did, it took months, sometimes years, to come to terms with the Vampire as it overtook their humanity.
Caster had only seen it a few times, and he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.
Magic had to be involved in the way Ethel and Uncle Lucien had managed to make so many.
“That means we have an edge with the numbers,” Marcus said. “But we still don’t know how to counteract the witch’s power.”
“We know where it comes from,” Mark said. “Those red-eyed demons are the source somehow, but she is unable to replenish it.”
“There is someone we can ask.” Riley looked at Caster and tilted his head as if begging him to understand. “I know you don’t trust him, but he’s the one who saved us. I don’t know how.”
“You mean Pierce?” Caster could not muster the energy to counter the shiver running down his spine at the thought of the demon. They’d shared space for a brief moment when his soul had been trapped a step away from the Underworld, that shared experience a moment he didn’t wish to revisit.
Riley nodded. “As soon as we teleported here, I started a spell to track the energy that pushed us out of Damien’s house. I thought that perhaps it was my Grandmother, but it was unlike anything I’ve seen.”
“How did he get out of that place?” Caster asked, still certain with every fiber of his being that they couldn’t trust Pierce. His self-interest was too pronounced.
Riley glanced at Mark. “I suspect the same way Ethel followed Mark into the Underworld.” He sighed. “This is probably a bad idea, but I think we should summon him. He is already here…”
“Are you sure there is no other way?” The King asked, but his tone suggested he already knew the answer, an answer Caster was close to accepting.
Riley shook his head and shifted on his feet, an action so uncharacteristic, Caster’s worry for his friend rose to the fore again.
“No one knows her the way he does. His hatred for her is something we can depend on.”
He waved a hand over the house. “The protection spells on the house kept him from accessing it; we just need to make sure he never gets in here.”
“He will want something in return,” Caster said. “He wouldn’t tell me why he wants her dead. That may prove a huge future problem.”
His father nodded. “Yes. But for now, his interests and ours are aligned, and given the witch’s growing power, we might need him. Still, we won’t go into it blindly.”
“No, we won’t,” Marcus said. “Riley, how do we protect ourselves from him?”
“We can’t have protection spells on the cabin if we’re to lure the witch and Zeke there.” Riley shook his head. “The protection spells I have on all of you should be sufficient.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “But we have to trust him, even a little. Or at least trust his hatred for Ethel.”
“Summon him, let’s find out what he knows and how much he’s willing to help,” Damien said, and a chorus of agreements rang out in the room.
Riley paused for a moment, glanced at him and then at his father.
Caster sighed the moment his father granted his permission.
He understood the logic of it. This was primed to be the fight of their lives, and they needed as many allies as they could muster if they were going to survive it.
He only prayed the Goddess knew what she was doing and they weren’t trading one monster for another.