Conn leaned against the wall. A universe of contained calm inhabited the space around the vampire, as if even noise didn’t dare bother him.
Though Moira caught the glances—the shy, the daring, the downright flirtatious glances of women around the bar. Aged eighteen to sixty ... they all looked. So far, not one shored up enough bravery to approach him. She couldn’t blame them. Even with the relaxed pose, danger surrounded him, at home with the deadly glint in his eye. Conn was sexy, but frightening.
Her scowl probably didn’t help much. The man was hers. At least in that moment.
Papers shuffled as the doctor slid a file across the Formica. “I did a quick analysis after you called.” He rubbed his dark chin. “The transportation is possible, but untraceable.”
Conn focused on the doctor, his body tightening. “Who are you trying to trace?”
Kell cut him a glare before turning back to the doctor. “Why not?”
The fairy blanched. “You’re talking about hopping dimensions. We can decipher the energy signatures when somebody jumps ... but once they’re out of our dimension, they’re gone. Even if they show right back up, we have no way of knowing where they went.”
Moira sucked in air, fighting a cough at the body odor assaulting her nostrils. Damn dancers. “Is it possible to transport someone against their will?” She already knew the answer. If Conn hadn’t fired his weapon into the abyss, she’d be somewhere else right now.
The doctor shrugged. “I think so. But you’d need to combine string theory and dimensional jumping with some serious power. Concentrated quantum physics. In order to alter the subspace enough to yank someone into a dimensional journey, you’d need some amazing ability and experience.”
“Shit.” Kell leaned back. “Anything else?”
“Ah, yes. I just spoke with your father, Moira.”
“I talked to him yesterday. He’s giving the researchers a hand.” Her father was a general practitioner and expert in, well, every aspect of medicine. He’d studied for centuries and neurology seemed a favorite. “No news yet.”
Conn crossed his arms. “News about what?”
The doctor threw back half a glass of what looked like scotch. His eyes didn’t even water when he refocused. “Virus-27.”
Kell cut his eyes to Conn. “You didn’t think we’d just sit back and await the Realm’s researchers, now did you?”
“No.” Conn’s jaw tightened. “Though I assumed your researchers would want to collaborate with ours.”
Moira kept her face stoic. Collaboration depended upon them remaining allies.
“I see.” Conn’s stoic expression beat hers with pure stubbornness lining his jaw.
“Well then. Let’s go report to the council.” Kell stood. “Keep your focus on the transportation issue, Doctor. We have enough researchers for now.”
The doctor cleared his throat, his gaze darting to Conn and back to Kell. “Well, um, there’s more. Google maps show recent, um, mining in Russia.”
Kell’s shoulders went back. “Did you report to Daire?”
“Yes.”
Conn frowned. “The demons are headquartered in Russia. What are they mining?”
Moira forced a shrug. Hopefully the demons weren’t mining anything. “Diamonds? We keep an eye on all natural minerals, Conn. You know that.” This was a coincidence. No way had someone discovered the witches’ weakness.
The mines in Russia had been destroyed centuries ago. Of course, nothing buried stayed that way forever.
Kell nodded. “Daire is on it then. Thanks, Doctor. I’ll be in touch.” He strode away.
Moira followed her cousin through the bar, more conscious than ever of the daring smiles thrown at her mate. The marking on her hip pounded in time with the beat from the live band—hard, wild, and slightly out of control.
Conn grabbed her arm at the door and lowered his head to brush his lips against her ear. A shiver wandered right down to her toes.
“You’re going to tell me what the hell is going on here, Moira.” He said the words as a statement.
She heard them as a threat.
They felt like an omen.
Chapter 5
B
ack on the bike, Moira allowed the smooth ride to calm her thoughts. She angled in and out of cars driving too slowly. Saying a quick chant in her head, she restructured the fuel in her tank, sending the bike careening past Kell.
He scowled as she maneuvered by him. The poor guy had never figured out the correct reconfiguration of the fuel. He’d come close, but she always beat him.
As she left the newer part of town, the shiny lights dimmed, the streets narrowed, and the glass windows looked like stone. She passed the church without slowing, driving another three miles to glide into a narrow lot surrounded on three sides by a crumbling stone fence standing to about eight feet.
Magic raised the hair on her arms. Quantum physics, the application of energy to small matter, protected the area.
Night jasmine filled the air while crickets chirped in the distance. The moon rose high and full in the darkened sky, yet underneath, something rumbled. The wind whispered through Moira’s hair, and she shivered.
The men caught up to her and jumped from their bikes. Kell stalked to the north side of the fence and rearranged several of the stones into a pattern of a Celtic knot. Silent as death, the wall parted. Wide shoulders blocked her view of the opening as he paused.
“You’ve gone far enough, Conn.” Kell didn’t turn around.
Conn spared her a glance. “I’ve been invited by the council.”
“I’d rather you didn’t die on my watch.”
Moira nodded. “It would be a terrible thing to do to your old friend.” Thank goodness. Someone was finally on her side.
Kell had just disobeyed direct orders by warning Conn. The Nine surely was in trouble when the enforcers doubted its plan.
Conn sighed. “Enough with the drama. I can collect and use Moira’s energy. In fact, I’ve spent a century honing the ability, working with it, making it my own.”
A warning skittered down her spine.
Kell exhaled. “I wish I didn’t know that.” He crossed the first barrier.
Moira stopped Conn from following with a hand against his chest. His heat warmed up to her shoulder. “Last chance to turn back, Conn.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. Her two worlds were colliding, and everything she cared about might be crushed. The idea of him dying stole her breath. She tried to shove the fear down, but it resonated in her voice. “Be smart.”
His eyes softened and he clapped a hand over hers. Tangling their fingers together, he strode through the opening, tugging her along. “Being smart means we stick together, Moira. The sooner you figure that out, the better for us both.” Low and controlled, his tone nevertheless held a ring of determination. “When we reach the veil, will I have time to study it?”
“Yes.” Not that staring at the invisible veil would do any good.
The wall slid shut behind them. Lights sprang to life along a wide staircase of tumbled rocks leading down. She allowed Conn to keep her hand as they descended to where Kell waited next to a rock wall in a small square vestibule. He rearranged stones into another intricate knot, and leaned forward until a green light flashed and scanned his eyes. “Kellach 24456 Daisy.”
Conn snorted. “Daisy?”
How could she help him survive? Moira cleared her throat. “Daire was mad at Kell when they chose the new passwords.” Daisy was the name of a girl they’d both had a crush on as teenagers, centuries ago. She doubted Kell would appreciate that laundry being aired.
The wall parted. Kell strode inside a rectangular room where two hulking soldiers guarded a metal door. Kell removed his gun and placed the weapon in a wicker basket before adding various knives.
Moira followed suit, making sure to engage the safety on her pistol. “No weapons beyond this point.” Maybe he’d turn back, now.
The man had prepared for battle. With a shrug, he dumped an impressive array of guns, knives, and stars into the basket. He didn’t twitch a muscle as the guards patted him down, though a low growl escaped him when the guard ran his hands over Moira.
She rolled her eyes. “Knock it off.”
His deadly gaze remained on the offending guard, who tightened his jaw in a smirk that screamed challenge. He stepped slowly away when he finished frisking her.
Moira shook her head. Their guards were good. But Conn embodied the ultimate soldier.
The door opened inwardly. Marble sconces lit the walls, illuminating powerful oil paintings guiding the way. She followed Kell through, her boots light on the thick red carpet edged with hard stone. “Keep your feet on the red, Conn—if you want to retain your head.” One inch off the scarlet and the walls opened up with weapons.
Conn cleared his throat. “You hung Vicente Voltolini paintings down here.” He peered closer to a battle scene from centuries ago. “His entire battle collection.”
“Yes.” The famous vampire had depicted most of the Realm history until losing his head during the last war with the Kurjans. “He and my aunt Vivienne were ... close.” Moira tugged on Conn’s hand, heading down the path. “We’re late.”
The tunnels ran under the city, a labyrinth of routes. Some led to businesses, some to opportunity, and others to death. She’d learned the way to headquarters a long time ago; she was one of the few with the knowledge. Those who claimed knowledge equaled power truly didn’t understand the structure of being in the know. Knowledge equaled danger—pure and simple.
Kell rearranged the final stones against a blank wall, which opened to reveal an empty room surrounded by rock. Finally, he turned his serious gaze on Conn. “You might die.”
Conn’s lips twitched. “Would you miss me?”
Kell shrugged. “Never has a nonwitch survived the next step.”
“Has a mate ever tried?” Conn stared beyond Kell to the harmless-looking room.
Moira grabbed his arm. “Most are too smart to try.” Never had anyone but a witch made it through the room. Even a witch with power sometimes hurt afterwards.
Kell scratched his chin. “Dig deep, imagine healing power around you. Go after me and before Moira.” He pivoted and stepped into the room, disappearing instantly.
Conn snorted. “That amounted to an ‘I love you, man’ from anyone else.”
Humor didn’t touch Moira. “Please don’t do this.” She’d beg. Anything to keep him alive.
He pivoted, framing her face in his hands. A gentle brush of his lips over hers followed. “Trust me.”
She lacked the physical strength to remove him. His familiarity with her powers kept him safe from her magic. Helplessness clogged her throat. She cleared it. “Hold my hand. Don’t try to fight the veil’s pull, try to use it. Turn the power and make it yours.”
He’d mastered her power. For now, anyway. Maybe he’d beat the veil.
Conn frowned. “Kell said to go after him. Alone.”
“We usually go alone. There’s nothing wrong with going together.” She kept her face bland as she told the lie.
Conn stepped near the doorway, his gaze hard on the empty room. “I can feel the tension ... the change in the air.”
“Just wait.” He was about to feel more than tension. “Last chance to turn back.”
He tightened his hold on her hand, his palm warm and strong. “I’m sorry I didn’t come after you sooner, Moira.” Then he stepped into the harmless-looking room.
A static wind keened. Holding tight to his mate, Conn fought the urge to cover his ears. The air boiled, rising up around him in gusts of power. Not oxygen. Not hydrogen. But blocks of power more solid than cement.
They beat at him, scraping against skin, bruising his flesh. He tried to turn his head and check on Moira, but the air had thickened too much. Only her hand in his assured him she was there. An invisible brick smashed into his left eyebrow. His head jerked back into a solid wall, bashing his brain against his skull.
Pain clouded his mind.
Anger cleared it.
He dug down, searching inside for peace. Concentrating on the molecules battering him, he tried to alter their formation. The keening rose to an unholy pitch. The blocks sharpened, cutting into his skin.
Goddamn it.
Fury roared from his mouth, making no sound.
An edge cut into his throat. His knees weakened. Blocks of nothing kept him standing upright.
A healing balm cascaded up his arm—from Moira’s hand holding his. Like silk, the sensation traveled over him, surrounding him. He took a deep breath. The air lightened.
With a rush of energy, he stepped forward.
Into cool silence.
Without taking a breath, he pivoted and reached for her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, gulping in air. Curls sprung from her head in wild disarray. Rips ruined her shirt and skirt while small cuts bled from exposed skin. “You look like someone put you through a cheese shredder.”
He glanced down. His clothes were shredded. Blood trickled from small cuts on his arms. His face ached. “Well. That was fun.”
A solid stone wall faced him. Moira pressed her palm and forehead against it, whispering a small chant. The rock slid apart to reveal a massive chamber.
The headquarters of the Council of the Coven Nine.
The focus of the massive room was a raised rock dais complete with table and nine chairs. Tables were set forth before it and two rows of carved seats perched to the left, much like a modern courtroom. Well, except for the raw stone and breath of magic whispering about.
Moira stepped inside and took her place next to Kell behind one table, facing the four present members of the Nine. Conn released her hand to flank her other side.
Vivienne Northwood presided in the center, with Moira’s mother to her left, and Grace Sadler, to her right. Moira’s mother and Grace had been council members almost as long as Vivienne, for about a thousand years. A man Conn didn’t recognize sat next to Grace.
Moira’s mother put hand to her mouth. “Moira. What did you do?”
Conn frowned. They knew he was coming.
“What I needed to do.” Moira’s voice rang out strong and assured in the chamber.
What the hell did that mean? Conn took a better look at Kell. His clothes appeared just fine and not even a paper cut marred his skin. Surprise had Conn stilling. A rush of anger had his lungs heating. “Don’t tell me. You don’t walk together through the veil.”
“I told you to go alone,” Kell muttered. “Not in a millennia would I expect Moira to have just so foolishly endangered her life.”
“Shut up, Kell,” Moira said.
Conn eyed Vivienne Northcutt. She eyed him back. He cleared his throat. “Councilwoman Northcutt, good to see you.”
“And you, Prince. It’s a very pleasant surprise that you survived the veil.” Her eyes narrowed in calculation.
“Is it?” He’d already considered the ramifications of the Nine knowing he could use magic. If they became enemies, they’d gun for him first. He knew too much about how they worked, how they fought, and now how they shielded themselves. They’d be stupid not to take him out.
“Of course. The king was correct in not doubting your abilities.” Menace tinged her smile.
Her politeness shit really annoyed him. He forced a pleasant smile. “Just out of curiosity, what would’ve happened to my mate had the veil ripped my head off?” His words declared his claim as solidly as if he’d sent a proclamation. Moira was his. Not theirs.
Vivienne folded her hands on the table. “Death has its own energy, Prince Kayrs. If it had claimed you, Moira would’ve died as well.”
Nothing in the world could’ve prevented the low, rolling growl that rumbled from his chest.