Hunted

  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 th
rough 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.

  Chapter 6

  Moira ignored the concern in her mother’s eyes as well as the condemnation in Viv’s. What she couldn’t ignore was the warning sound coming from Conn. Her body reacted by flooding with adrenaline. Fight or flight. Unfortunately, at that moment she couldn’t do either. “Maybe we should get down to business.”

  Vivienne cleared her throat. “Very well, though the council would like to speak to you later about your actions, Moira.” Said as a polite invitation wrapped in hard spikes.

  Moira nodded, then tilted her head in surprise at the fourth person seated behind the large stone desk. Peter Gallagher sat to Grace’s side, his light brown eyes sparkling in his handsome face. A new member? She smiled in question at her old friend, wearing quite the wardrobe. She’d never seen the neurologist in a three-piece suit. In the charcoal-gray Armani, he exuded confidence and safety.

  “We’re trying to remote access Simone and Trevan.” Viv tilted her head to where Grace perched over a keyboard, typing furiously. “Simone is in New York and Trevan in Greece, monitoring the demon forces there. For now, Peter Gallagher was sworn in as a member yesterday, filling an unexpected vacancy.” Tension wound through the room as if half of the available oxygen disappeared. Unexpected vacancies meant someone had died. Killing a witch ... well now, not so easy to do.

  “Congratulations,” Moira murmured, forcing a smile that made her jaw ache. She and Peter had been friends for nearly a century and both taught at the university. Her father, the most renowned doctor for her people, had taught him. He’d make a fine council member. Too bad the circumstances sucked.

  A bell pealed and everyone glanced toward the side wall. With a nod from Viv, a massive screen took shape, forming a picture of a remote chamber similar but much smaller than the main headquarters—located across town. Moira squinted until the screen cleared.

  Two soldiers dragged in a struggling man, the top of his feet catching on the tumbled stones as he tried to jerk away. His bald head sported a slight sunburn that swam down his neck to be seen on his large, hairy hands. His pants were torn and blood spray arced across his chest. From the look of his swollen nose, he’d taken a punch. One soldier kicked the man in the back of the leg, and he went down to his knees in the center of the other chamber, facing the camera.

  Conn stiffened next to Moira. This wasn’t going to be good.

  She grabbed his arm. “I think we should wait in the vestibule.”

  “I don’t think so.” Low, rough, his voice caught her in the gut and held. “The man is human.”

  The man threw elbows, attempting to rise. A soldier pressed down on his shoulder, keeping him down.

  The prisoner bellowed. “You can’t do this. I don’t know who the hell you people are—”

  “Silence!” Vivienne stood. Fury spun red beneath her angled cheekbones. She glanced at Moira and then Conn, clearing her throat and visibly calming. “Miss Dunne, would you please escort Prince Kayrs to the side chamber? We have some unexpected business to conduct.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Moira nodded, dread filling her stomach as Conn’s shoulders straightened just enough to move the air around them. Her hold tightened on his arm.

  He smiled. Then he patted her hand with his large palm. “With all due respect, Councilwoman, I’d rather remain here.”

  Moira’s mother bit back a smile, concentrating on the screen. Viv zeroed in on him like a scavenger spotting a carcass. Her smile rivaled his in terrifying. “I appreciate your curiosity, Prince. But this is an internal coven matter, and we require privacy. Please remove yourself.”

  The guy on the floor in the other chamber threw out his arms. “I’ll remove myself.” His voice came through the microphone tinny and high. The soldier clocked him in the back of the head when he struggled to rise again. His palms slapped against the floor as he fell onto his knees again.

  Conn kept his gaze on Viv. Regret tipped his lips, while pure intelligence shone from his eyes. “The man is human.”

  Nothing else needed to be said.

  Moira dropped her hand to her side, focusing on the leaders.

  “Indeed.” Viv’s dark eyes flashed, her posture going ramrod straight. She blinked several times. The silence increased until the heavy weight threatened to suffocate them. Without moving a muscle, she glanced at Grace, who slowly shook her head.

  Nope. Moira’s memory clicked through every coven canon of law ... dealings with humans were public. If Conn hadn’t been invited into the Nine’s private headquarters, they could’ve pled secrecy as to the location. But Viv had personally invited the liaison to the Realm, and thus the choice to go or stay sat squarely in his hands.

  The prisoner spit blood on the floor. “Of course I’m human, you fucking freaks—”

  His voice cut off with a flick of Viv’s wrist. He grabbed his neck with both hands, his bloodshot eyes bugging out.

  Viv attempted to stare Conn down, her jaw clenched, promising retribution. “Well, Prince. Since this man is human, we have no legal reason to request your removal. Yet, as a courtesy, I am asking you to leave while we handle our private business.”

  Nicely done. Moira had learned early on t
he power of diplomacy when employed correctly. Viv was a master. Conn had to leave.

  “I appreciate the courtesy ... and truly regret my refusal.” Conn took one step forward, his voice echoing from the solid walls. “With all due respect, I choose to remain here.”

  Son of a bitch. He knew. Moira stiffened. The man knew they were considering withdrawing from the Realm. Yet he’d fought the veil ... and revealed his powers. The Kayrs had just made a move. Her head swiveled in slow motion to take him in. He’d landed on her continent as a strategic move ... nothing more. The sharp pain to her heart surprised her. Something to worry about later.

  She shook her head. The man had already tipped his hand. He may understand some of their power, but he didn’t need to see any more. If he learned anything more, he wouldn’t be safe regardless of whether or not their people remained at peace with each other. “Conn.” She kept her voice to a soft whisper. “You need to leave.”

  “No.” If fate ever held sound, the tenor resonated in his absolute refusal.

  Absolute quiet descended upon the occupants of the massive chamber. Up front, Viv pressed her hands together. “Very well. Connlan Kayrs has chosen to stay and witness the business of the Coven Nine.” Her voice implied he’d signed his own death order. She stared through the screen at the man on his knees. “Thomas Willoby. Confess your crimes.”

  “I ain’t done nuthin’ wrong.” Willoby shrugged the guard’s hand off his shoulder. “What are you people? Some crazy devil worshippers?”

  Dark amusement lifted Viv’s lips. “No. Nice try, though.” She reached for a thick manila file, flipping the top open. “Mary Johnson. Betty Maloney. June Frank.” Her chin lifted. “Those names mean anything to you?”

  “Um, er, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  While he was miles away, Moira could almost smell the stench of fear cascading around him.

  “Oh, I think you do.” Viv slammed a fist down on the folder. The man on the floor jumped. Dark energy swam along her skin, her eyes morphing all the way to midnight. “You like hurting women, now don’t you, Thomas?”