Four

Connor was a big, fat liar. Vivian Glass, master vamp of Los Angeles, was alive and well. I was staring right at her as she sipped a blood-cocktail, oblivious to the three sets of eyes watching her from behind the one-way glass of Marcus’ office inside Clover.

The Fae had left a note on my bed while I was in the shower, a seemingly innocuous invitation for a drink at his club. Staying in my cave for another year had sounded great, but avoiding the menagerie of supernaturals below had sounded even better.

I’d commandeered Katrina as my bodyguard because despite Connor’s goodbye, I knew he wasn’t letting me outside without one. She was leagues preferable to the eldritch vamp twins, and moreover, she’d been the only person to smile at me when I’d come downstairs. Thankfully, Connor and my mother had been absent, but Adam’s glare was still stinging an hour later.

Vivian laughed at something her date said, lifting a pert chin and tilting her head charmingly. Blond curls tumbled across a bare shoulder, which was angled invitingly toward the man.

“Unbelievable,” I breathed. “I can’t decide if I’m hurt or pissed.”

“He must have his reasons,” said Katrina, eyeing the couple. Her expression was pinched. I wasn’t the only person Connor had lied to. “Maybe he thinks she’s an asset he can use.”

I watched Vivian’s date smile. A smile I knew well, one that meant he was genuinely enjoying himself. Not for the first time—but for the first time in a while—I had the slippery feeling of not knowing Connor Thorne at all.

When I couldn’t stand watching anymore, I turned to Marcus. “How did you know?”

He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Vivian’s people called a few hours ago to make sure we were stocked in her favorite blood type. I had no idea the Prime would be here.”

“He’s not,” murmured Katrina.

I turned back toward the glass. “Huh?”

She pointed. “No one’s noticing him. Look.” I scanned along the bar and sure enough, no one seemed at all impressed by the Prime’s proximity. Which would never happen.

I squinted. “Are you saying he’s using glamour to obscure his identity?” She nodded. “Then how can the three of us see him?”

“Because he’s allowing us to,” said Marcus mildly.

At that moment, Connor lifted his head and looked straight at me. I yelped and jumped back from the glass, but not before seeing him touch his chest. My fingers mirrored his and contacted the smooth surface of the arrowhead.

I lifted the necklace over my head and the compagno bond flared to life.

Meet me in the VIP lounge. Now.

The bond slammed closed. I dropped the necklace back against my chest and glanced at my companions. “I’ve been summoned. Wanna come?”

“Nope,” said Katrina.

“No, thank you,” said Marcus, touching the reddened skin on his neck.

As I strode toward the door, Katrina said, “Try to keep an open mind, will you?”

I grunted and headed into the hallway, nearly colliding with Ethan. He grabbed my shoulders to steady me. My suspicious look was met by a contrite one, but I didn’t wait for an explanation. I kept walking toward the door at the end of the hallway, throwing over my shoulder, “You can stand outside if you want. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Ethan’s sigh followed me into the dim interior of the lounge.

Connor sat alone in an oversized chair, his back to me. I rounded the chair and stared down at him. “What?” I snapped.

His head lifted, half-lidded eyes simmering up at me. “I honestly didn’t know I had a last nerve until you stepped on it.”

An urge to laugh consumed me. I bit my lips and summoned anger, but the battle was lost when his lips quirked up. I deflated, dropping into the chair beside his. “What the hell, Connor. Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t want you going after Vivian.”

Staring blankly across the room, I let the words, and the worry they contained, sink in. I thought of the lab at the Celestine Institute. Of being grabbed and stabbed with a syringe. Strapped down and at the mercy of crazy people. I saw the hole in Jesper Valcourt’s forehead. The helmet in Thomas Newberry’s hands as he walked toward me, then his fingers twitching in blood.

I remembered knowing with certainty that I was about to die, and my last sight being Connor’s face. I tried to imagine what he must have felt in that moment, and imagined our roles reversed. Terror. Anguish.

I asked softly, “My life is really in danger, isn’t it?”

He looked away, jaw tense. “Yes.”

I shifted restlessly. “What are you doing with Vivian? Besides flirting.”

His slight smile was pleased. “You smell of jealousy.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. “No more lies. What’s going on?”

He sobered. “Vampire politics are rather messy and unfortunately, Vivian is well connected. Her death would cause complications for me personally.”

“What kind of complications?”

He dragged a hand over his head. “A summons before the Conclave. Potentially imprisonment, possibly death.”

I sat forward, my mouth open in surprise. “The Conclave? I thought the rumors of a vampire super-council were bogus. Fodder for horror stories.”

He winced. “The Conclave is an archaic institution, but they are very much functioning.”

I slumped back into the chair. “Complications, indeed,” I whispered, then blurted, “They wouldn’t actually kill you, would they?”

Connor sighed. “The issue is not whether they would kill me, but the problems that would arise if they tried.”

My anxiety calmed. “You’re a scary sonofabitch, aren’t you?”

His eyes stayed cool green. “There are several among the Conclave older than me, Fiona. Scarier, as it were. It would not be an easy fight, nor would the outcome be certain.” His gaze trailed to my hand, which was rhythmically tugging on a strand of my hair. “There’s nothing to worry about, as I’ve not killed Vivian. Nor do I plan to.”

“She’s bait?” I guessed.

He nodded. “Vivian was promised partnership in the operation to mass produce and sell the Lodestone drug. As such base activity is both illegal in state law and in opposition to Conclave canon, I appealed to her sense of self-preservation.”

“You threatened to rat her out.”

He offered a slight smile. “She agreed to assist my investigation in exchange for my silence. She arranged a meeting this evening with the contact who gave her the first doses of the Lodestone and directed her to the four women. He’s a young vampire, I’m told, and likely an insignificant player. But it’s one step closer to whoever’s behind this.”

“And you’re posing as . . .?”

“Vivian’s second, Fredrick Burns.”

Something in his voice made my skin prickle. “And he’s . . .?”

He blinked lazily. “Quite dead. And yes, I know he was Daphne’s boyfriend. But as of today, he hadn’t seen or heard from her since her disappearance.”

I couldn't quite repress a shudder. “Okay,” I said mutedly. “I give.”

“Meaning?” He paused. “I cannot read your mind while you wear the arrowhead.”

I yanked the necklace off and tossed it into his lap, then met his surprised gaze. “I’m done. I’m way out of my depth.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What do you want me to do?”

He blurred and reappeared on his knees before me. Hands framed my face. His eyes scanned mine. “I want you safe. Go with Ethan. He has the skills to protect you.”

I scowled. “Is there an Option B?”

He shook his head. “Until I find out who’s behind this, I’m afraid Ethan is our best option.” I frowned, but he said quickly, “Please, trust me.”

“I do,” I whispered. “I’m sorry about—”

“Apologize when this is over.” His fingers sank into my hair and my body reacted accordingly, melting into his grip. “Will you go now? Tonight?”

“I still have questions,” I said urgently. “Why was I targeted? Was it because of the super-quake? If so, why didn’t they just plant an actual bomb? And what or who was the actual target? Maybe it the Celestine Institute. Maybe some research they were doing—”

“I’m looking into it,” he said and kissed my temple. “I will find your answers, I promise. Thank you for doing this. I know how proud you are, how hard it is for you to admit limitations.”

I sniffed. “Thanks for the reminder.”

He palmed my face. “You’ll really do this for me? Leave? Be safe?”

“On two conditions.”

His lips twitched. “And they are?”

“When this is over, you tell me everything. Every stupid, stinking detail.”

His thumb grazed my lower lip. “And the second condition?”

I drew a breath and held it, then let it out in a rush. “You help me get my magic back. And the memories the Queen stole.”

He dimpled. “Deal.”

The photograph of the women flashed in my mind. Gretchen, Sabrina, Tiffany, and Daphne smiling together in the lobby of the Black Diamond. Radiating happiness. Young and carefree. Two of them were now dead, the other two missing. Their loved ones were either fearing the worst or already in mourning.

Responsibility swamped me, along with a hearty side of guilt. Like a coward, I was running away to save my own hide.

“I will do my best to find Tiffany and Daphne,” said Connor gently.

I rubbed my throbbing temples. “I feel like I failed them.”

“Oh, mo spréach.” He sighed. “You haven't failed anyone. I’m sorry I brought you into this.”

I smiled halfheartedly. “You thought I could help.” I reached out to smooth the frown from his brow. Hesitantly, I asked, “Did you mean what you said? That I’m still not ready for you? For us?”

He looked away and my heart sank. “We can discuss that when this is over.” He moved fluidly to his feet, out of my reach, and gazed past me. “She’s agreed.”

Ethan’s voice came from the shadows. “I heard. Come on, Fiona. We’ve got a plane to catch.”

My heart heavy, I stood and walked across the lounge, but paused to look back at Connor. His face was shadowed, but I could see the barest green glow of his eyes.

“Be careful,” I said.

He nodded. “Keep her safe—”

“Or you’ll feed me to Declan, I remember,” said Ethan sardonically.

Connor’s grin gleamed in the dimness. “Exactly.”

Ethan and I walked into the hallway, and I felt the thump of the door closing behind us all the way to my bones.

“Your uncle packed a bag for you,” offered my unwanted bodyguard.

I nodded, unsurprised that my decision had been a foregone conclusion. “Whenever Delilah’s around, shit gets efficient.”

I saw Ethan crack a smile, then quickly smother it. “She wasn’t sure you’d say yes. Apparently, your timeline forks a lot.”

I frowned at him. “Forks?”

He nodded, pausing to meet my stare. “When she focuses on you, there are often two or more possible futures in any given moment, each with equal probability of occurring. Her words.”

About ten feet ahead, the door to the stairwell opened. Bass heavy music pulsed down the hallway and a gust of hot air from the club hit us. Marcus appeared, his pale face framed by dense shadow. Before I could figure out why the Fae’s expression seemed off, Ethan cursed and stepped in front of me. I saw Marcus stumble and land gracelessly on one knee. His mouth opened and closed several times.

Blood foamed on his lips.

“Marcus!” I yelled and tried to shove past Ethan, but he grabbed my arm and yanked me against a wall, blocking me with his body. “What the fuck, Ethan! He’s hurt!”

I drew a breath to scream for Connor but choked instead as invisible hands clamped down on my throat. I lurched back, slamming into the wall and sliding down it, clawing at my neck. Ethan’s hands covered mine and the vise loosened. I heaved air into my lungs. Tears stung my eyes.

Opposite us, the office door opened. I expected Katrina, but instead, a woman I’d never seen before stepped into the hallway.

Ethan turned terrified eyes to me. “She’s too strong.”

She didn’t look scary. Tall and slender, with long, straight blond hair, she was dressed unassumingly in jeans, a navy blouse, and heels. She had the beauty of a catalogue-model. Pretty, but nothing I hadn’t seen a thousand times growing up in Los Angeles.

I looked down the hallway, at the steel door of the VIP lounge. The woman said, “The vampire cannot hear you or sense you, little one. Don’t waste your breath.”

I didn’t recognize her—but I knew the voice.

“No, Fiona! Don’t look!” It was Marcus, his voice stiff with pain.

Too late.

Her eyes were gray. No, blue. Purple? And I’d been wrong. So wrong. She wasn’t pretty or even beautiful, both words useless to describe her face. Terrible came to mind. Captivating. Cutting. Exquisite.

Déjà vu slithered through me. A numbing fog, misty and warm, tingled in my limbs.

All at once, I remembered. Not everything, not even anything that made sense. I saw her laughing, sunlight sparking off the jewels in her delicate diadem. I saw her bent over a chess board, chewing on her thumbnail, one delicately pointed ear poking through the fall of blond hair. Picking flowers near a lake, fingers crushing soft petals only to bring them back to vitality with a kiss. Baking a pie, berries staining her hands and mouth. Magnificent face streaked in blood as she wept on a battlefield.

Ageless. Ancient beyond human conception.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge a powerful urge to speak. One word, however, would not be contained.

“Grandmother?” I asked.

The White Queen smiled.