Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
Enclave memo (internal)
We will strike the desert base in mass during the auction. Send everyone. This is our only window.
CIPRIAN
Sheena kicks her chair over. It clatters against the polished floor of the venue, drawing gasps and murmurs from hundreds of auction attendees. I grip my thighs under the table, forcing myself not to drag her somewhere the evil, yellow-eyed monster can’t see her anymore.
“Your obsession is showing, Lysander,” Sheena shouts. “If it’s me you want, come and get me!” Fuck. No. That’s not the plan.
I told Celine and Luca we wouldn’t be on the front lines of this mess, but Lysander is using the women he abducted to force Sheena’s hand. The second he spotted her, tucked at the table with Alistair and me, he’s only cared about one thing: getting his hands on her. This is going to get ugly—
The lights flicker out.
People start screaming and shoving. Gods. It’s turning into a riot.
Someone wishes for light, and Sheena grants it, bathing the crowded venue in an artificial glow. A table of burly shifters—from somewhere in eastern Europe, if their accents are real—starts barking orders. They want to grab the abducted women and run off.
I can’t let that stand. I’m enclave . . . I’ve got to protect them.
I push to my feet, but Alistair grabs my upper arm. “Don’t even think about it,” he says.
“I can’t stand aside,” I snarl, yanking my arm free.
But I’m too late—Sheena is already on it. Granting another wish, she sends the tables and chairs after the auction guests, using the furniture to herd them into a giant metal cage created by her purple magic.
I run around our table and high-five her, using the opportunity to check on her too. A drop of sweat rolls down from her hairline, but her eyes are bright and confident.
“Can you two handle this?” Sheena asks, pointing to the rapidly filling cage as she looks at Alistair and me.
“Duh.” I wink at her. “Be careful, Sheena.” I head for the cage, stuffed full of dozens of power-hungry supernaturals, and my blood heats. They deserve to be punished. They deserve to feel as helpless as the women they came here to buy.
I yank them all into a collective nightmare and show them dozens of cat-sized rats scurrying into the cage with them. Pink eyes, fleshy yeast-colored tails, and long yellow teeth. The rats are hungry, and the auction attendees are dinner. Bon appétit, motherfuckers.
I smile as they scream and trip over each other to get away from the nightmare.
“Ciprian, cut that out!” Sheena says.
I sigh and let the nightmare drop, watching with satisfaction as one of the guys who ordered his goons to grab the chained-up women cradles his broken arm. “You’re no fun,” I complain.
“Let’s combine our magic,” Alistair says.
I look at him in surprise. His blue eyes are bright and eager. My magic buzzes, and the excitement drowns out my annoyance with him. “Let’s do it!”
It’s easier this time. Pulling them into a nightmare, I force their attention to Alistair.
He slides beneath the illusion like a knife through butter and compels them to sleep.
One by one, they collapse on the floor. I smile widely at him, then wipe the expression off my face when I remember why I shouldn’t.
Shouting breaks my concentration.
We leave the nightmare, blinking free of the illusion as Lysander reappears under the dome.
Eyes wild with madness, his features contort, fur sprouting on his face in patches.
He snatches up a hostage, presses his fangs to her throat, and dares Sheena to find out if her magic is faster than his teeth.
It isn’t. I know it. She knows it. And, fucking hell, Lysander does too.
I feel like I’m trapped underwater as Sheena rolls her shoulders back and takes the first step forward. I shout for her to stop. Alistair reaches for her too, but she brushes past him. My fingers curl, helplessness sinking in as she descends the stairs and gives herself over to a monster.
“Give me the keys, or I’ll show you a nightmare you’ll never forget.
” I reach for Alistair, but he dances out of my reach, carefully guarding the pocket of his suit coat.
Adrenaline and terror rip through me, coupled with rage.
He has no right to keep me here. My best friend was taken, and I need to go after her.
“Just give her a chance, Casanell,” Alistair says. “She’s more than capable!”
“Fuck you!” I grab his shirt with both hands and shake him. “That asshole took her, and we just stood here and let it happen.”
She’s wired. I know that. She has a hidden camera with a tracker enabled. Eyes will be on her the whole time, but this was not the plan. She’s facing him alone, and I hate that.
“You underestimate her strength. She can do this.”
I open my mouth to yell at him again. If I have to wrestle his ass on the ground to get my keys back, I will.
He doesn’t care about Sheena. She’s a bargaining chip to him, not the first real friend he ever made.
If someone took me, she wouldn’t rest until I was safe, and Alistair is stopping me from doing the same.
A portal crackles to life.
Idris steps through with someone draped over his shoulders. The fae is bloodied from the battle. He demands answers. I feel worse than awful when I have to tell him we lost Sheena.
His blue eyes ice over.
Then everything goes from bad to worse.
Idris lays the body—my brother—on a wine-stained tablecloth.
The thready sound of Callum’s heartbeat is barely there.
He needs a miracle. He needs Sheena, but she’s not fucking here.
Panic unlike anything I’ve ever felt before consumes me, rolling from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
My face warps, my magic overflowing as my own fear spills out.
No part of me feels human anymore. I face Alistair as the demon I am.
“Give. Me. Your. Fucking. Keys.”
Time passes in heartbeats.
Mine. My brother’s. Alistair’s.
Gideon comes through the portal. The battle is won.
He wraps his arms around me. In a voice choked with tears, he tells me Dad didn’t make it.
I don’t understand what he means. My dad .
. . Dimitri Casanell . . . is dead? Killed by Lysander’s gang of mangy wolves?
It’s impossible. But Gideon sounds serious, squeezing me until my bones ache.
I feel myself shutting down.
Guarding Callum, I let no one near him. It’s all I can do.
Half feral, half numb, I listen to updates, feel Alistair’s eyes on me, and wait.
Sheena returns, limping and frantic, and a piece of worry falls away only to be replaced by the crushing weight of my sadness. She heals Callum, but it’s too late for Dad.
What did I do to help any of them? Not a damn thing. Some parlor tricks with Alistair to compel the captive auction guests into compliance. I was so proud when we combined our magic to subdue them. Now though . . . I know it was worthless . . . just like me.
The roaring in my ears is loud.
Everyone takes a portal back to the compound. I should go. Mom. Callum. The funeral.
My hands start to shake. It’s embarrassing, a childish sign of fear. Is this grief? Have I ever felt grief before? Would I recognize it if I did?
Fingers link with mine, warm and strong. Mine stop shaking.
I breathe desperately. If I can get enough oxygen to my brain, I’ll be able to think again. Think around this, find the positives—the funny parts. A strangled noise leaves my throat. It sounds nothing like laughter. Dad will never laugh again.
I yank my hand free from whoever is holding me back, step into the swirling lights, and let the portal carry me away.