POE SPOKE with Abby a little longer before leaving and going on the hunt for Sean. He didn’t have to say anything to Nordik to know he thought the same. Poe didn’t want his gut to be right, but he’d spent enough time in this war, among the enemy, to know when it was on point. It didn’t mean Sean was in league with the Knights. Not yet, anyway. Sean knew about shifters; their entire family did. None of them thought one way or another about it. A few had even dated shifters. So why was Sean so hostile toward them?
“If it is Sean,” Poe said, “we can’t let the shifters exact their own brand of justice. That’ll explode the situation. We need to take care of this quick.”
“Yes, we do.”
While Poe called Carol to learn possible hangouts for Sean, Nordik visited a couple of the local shifter shopkeepers. Poe stood on the sidewalk as Nordik questioned a particularly aggrieved-looking proprietor who was gesturing wildly in agitation. It didn’t surprise Poe that Nordik could turn even the most reluctant shifter into a nonstop talking motor. He was a master shifter, after all, and most, if not all, would be happy to have his help.
Poe listened to Carol’s worry about Sean not coming home last night. Poe hoped Sean was still in town. “We’ll find him, Carol. Consider me a dog that’s caught a scent. I won’t give up.”
“I know By—um, Poe. I know.”
Poe smiled slightly. He hung up when Nordik stepped out of the shop.
“Well?” he said when Nordik reached him.
“Jeremy has spoken with several other business owners, all shifters, and there seems to be a disturbing relation between the vandalisms.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing was stolen. It’s as if they were looking for something. And there was no scent.”
Poe narrowed his eyes until they were slits of blue fire. “Come again?”
Nordik gripped his arm, his own eyes glinting with a fierce light. “There wasn’t a scent for the shifters to track, Poe. You and I have encountered such a phenomenon before, haven’t we?”
Poe gritted his teeth. “Same fucking sorcery Arcas and his minions used when they captured me as bait for you. Dammit!”
Poe turned away and paced the sidewalk, earning some wary looks from passing pedestrians, but he was too steamed to care.
“It doesn’t mean Sean’s a part of it. There’s still no proof that he is.”
Nordik said nothing. But he thought awfully loud. Poe threw him a look. Nordik’s broad face was stone, and his hands were in his pockets. The wind came up and ruffled his snow-white hair, his dark eyes intent on Poe.
“They were looking for something,” Nordik said softly. “What does Arcas want more than anything?”
“Fuck.” The scrolls. The damn scrolls. “Why would he think one of those things was here in Ireland?”
“I can’t say.”
Poe blew out a long breath and scrubbed his hand over his face. “We have to find Sean. That’s first.”
“Agreed.”
A couple of hours later, they finally found him loitering outside a mart with a few other similarly dressed juveniles. They all appeared to be looking for trouble.
“Wait here,” Poe said.
Nordik growled.
Poe gripped his arm, met his eyes. “Wait here. He definitely won’t talk to me if you’re with me. Stay out of sight.”
Nordik’s eyes glowed in frustration, but he silently did as Poe said. Poe looked back at Sean and wondered how he should approach the situation. Was Sean a troubled family member, or a knight? Someone who needed guidance, or the enemy?
As Poe neared, Sean noticed him. A glimmer of pure contempt entered his dark eyes, and Poe knew, with a falling heart, what his approach should be.
“Sean,” Poe said once he was in earshot. “I need to speak with you.”
“Get lost,” Sean said. Two of his companions sneered at him. Poe didn’t even glance at them. Malcontented youths weren’t his problem yet. But he filed away their faces, suspecting he’d need to recognize them later.
“I’m not going anywhere. We need to talk.”
Sean flicked his cigarette butt at Poe’s face before turning to leave. Poe lashed out with his good arm, gripped Sean’s, and twisted it up behind Sean’s back, effectively stopping his movement. Sean gasped and had to rise on his toes to alleviate the pressure. If Poe applied any more, he’d break Sean’s arm.
Sean’s four friends stopped short and stared in shock at the little guy with big muscles currently holding their friend, by all accounts, effortlessly.
“We need to talk, Sean,” Poe said calmly. “Now.”
“Right. Fine. Let go. Let go!”
Poe let go. Sean stumbled and rubbed his arm, scowling. Poe flicked his glance at the friends and jerked his head. They ran off. Sean tried to appear tough again and resituated his jacket in an attempt at nonchalance.
“What the fuck you want?”
Poe didn’t see any need to beat around the bush. “Why are you and your friends vandalizing shape-shifter businesses?”
Sean stilled and tried to keep his face blank. But Poe saw the pride and arrogance in Sean’s eyes, and his stomach tightened.
“What the fuck you talkin’? Look, I don’t know what my fucking mam told you, but—”
“Your mom doesn’t know anything yet,” Poe said. “You’re going down a dangerous path, Sean. A dark one. You go down far enough, you’ll never get off. Ever. Then you’ll encounter a shifter who will happily chew on your neck. Or you’ll encounter the Agency. Me. And we won’t be any more merciful.”
Sean swallowed hard and tore his gaze away from Poe’s. Poe knew Sean saw the truth in his eyes. He knew Sean saw the depth of Poe’s devotion and the coldness of his resolve.
“Where do you get the right to harm them?” Poe said, voice hardening. “Where do you get the right to determine you’re better than them? Huh? Why do you find pleasure in the misery of others?”
“You don’t know a thing. Not a goddamn thing!”
“Then tell me.”
“They—they’re abominations that must be destroyed! The world has to be cleansed!” Sean said in a voice seething with manic devotion.
Poe froze. He gazed at the young face he’d known for years and looked at a stranger.
“Oh, Sean. No. No, they’re not.” Poe shook his head. “They are as natural as you and me. More so. They are closer to nature than we are. Arcas is lying to you.”
Sean’s eyes flared. “He’s a god, you sinner!”
Poe blamed his sliced heart for his delayed reaction. Sean punched Poe full in the face, and Poe realized two things: One, the delusional teen really shouldn’t have gotten a punch in since he’d telegraphed his entire intention; and two, Carol had been right about Sean having an ability.
It was strength.
Poe flew a couple of feet into the air and landed hard, the wind knocked out of him. Blood gushed out of his nose as pain radiated through his face.
A roar sounded from behind him, and his eyes blurred with tears and pain as Nordik charged Sean and knocked him to the ground. The attack stunned Sean, but when Nordik picked him up to slug him, Sean kicked out. Nordik roared again and cupped his groin. Sean managed to free himself from Nordik’s grip and ran down the street. People began to fill the street and exit shops, curious about the noise.
Poe crawled to Nordik, the lower half of his face and front of his shirt covered in blood. He gripped Nordik’s shoulder and met his eyes.
“Coward,” Nordik said through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill him. Cheap shot.”
“Yeah, and he can’t punch,” Poe said, fingering his nose even as the crowd descended. Someone called for an ambulance. “I don’t think it’s broken. Hurts like a bitch, though.”
“He’s a knight.”
Poe wanted to vomit, and it wasn’t because of the pain in his face. “He’s a knight.”
IT TOOK a couple of hours, but finally Nordik and Poe freed themselves from the hospital. They were given pain meds, and Bronach picked them up and brought them home. She demanded explanations, but Poe insisted his dad and Carol had to hear it as well. He only wanted to say this once.
He knew it was going to break Carol’s heart. It made him want to break Sean’s face in retribution.
Poe pressed an ice bag to his face as Nordik sat with obvious care, trying not to move too much. What a sorry sight they made. And all from an untrained boy. It was humiliating, and Poe yearned for a rematch to put Sean in his place.
Carol paced as Bronach and Thorgold sat across from Nordik and Poe in the former’s family room.
“Carol, please sit down,” Bronach said in a soothing voice. “You’re tiring me just watching you.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She sat. Impatience made her leg bounce.
Poe took a large swig of whiskey, and the burn jarred him. He half wished he was drunk for this.
“I talked to Sean, Carol. And it’s not good. No part of it is good, and I don’t have many options left.”
Carol stilled. “What do you mean?” She looked at Nordik. “What does he mean?”
Nordik only shook his head, letting Poe take the lead. As much as Poe didn’t want to tell her, he knew it had to be him.
“I learned the shifters in this town have been targeted for violence and their businesses vandalized. Also when I spoke to Sean last night, he expressed disgust at my mating with Nordik. Visceral disgust. Today he called shifters abominations and said the world needed to be cleansed of them.”
Utter silence fell, broken only by Carol’s ragged breathing.
“What he said, the rhetoric, has been said to me countless times by”—Poe pushed himself to finish—“the Knights of the Dawn. Arcas leads them. Many of his followers think he’s a god. Sean’s one of them.”
“You’re wrong!” Carol jumped to her feet, maternal rage on her face. “You have to be wrong!”
Poe sank back into the sofa. “I wish I were.”
“No, this is not…. No!” Carol bunched her fists. “You son of a bitch! How could you accuse my son of something so vile?”
“You think he wants to say such things?” Nordik said, growling. He must have realized Poe had lost his voice. Nordik pushed to his feet, wincing. “You think he wants to hurt you? Poe speaks the truth. How do you think we got these injuries? Your son has the ability of strength and punched Poe and then kicked me. Are those the actions of an innocent man?”
Growls continued to rumble from Nordik’s chest even as Carol turned away, crying. Bronach hopped up and drew Carol into her arms, rubbing and crooning in comfort. Thorgold observed them all with flat eyes, his thoughts hidden.
Poe still couldn’t speak. His grief deepened and sharpened with every sob from Carol. He gripped Nordik’s arm and tugged. Nordik sat down again, slowly, and linked their fingers. His growls lightened but didn’t fade completely.
Closing his eyes, Poe pressed his forehead to Nordik’s shoulder. He’d thought his bond with Nordik had personalized the war for him. He was wrong. There was nothing more personal than having a family member, a loved one, choose the side of madness and hate. Arcas was an infection, and no one was immune. His grip was insidious and worldwide. It was supernatural in nature, going beyond the lure of his voice. If Arcas were somehow really connected to the time of Merlin and the Beginning, then perhaps his grip was something far more ancient, something only a true fae could create.
“I want to kill him,” Poe whispered. He knew Nordik would understand whom he meant.
Nordik kissed the top of Poe’s head. “As do I.”
Sean was still in the wind hours later. No one could find him. They even tried the homes of his friends Carol knew of, but it seemed all the teens were missing. The five of them didn’t tell the rest of the family about Sean but only said he was missing. Night fell swiftly, and exhaustion claimed Poe despite his fight against it. Most missions, he could go days without sleep and minimal food provisions and stay alert. But with this unexpected mission, he was sapped. He knew why. Betrayal was exhausting.
This was worse than Anu, the former Agency chief. He’d been under Arcas’s thumb, and they only figured it out when Anu sent Poe to find Nordik. It had been almost a year since then. Jesus, a year. And what had he really accomplished? One of his cousins, one of his flesh and blood, was in league with Arcas. The betrayal cut deeper, would last longer. It would scar.
Poe lay in bed with Nordik spooned against his back. Poe had fallen asleep hard the moment his head hit the pillow, but now he was wide-awake. It was just after three, and he stared out the window at the dark, cloudy sky. He’d come to Ireland to reconnect with family, to introduce Nordik as his mate, to find some peace and healing. He’d gotten just the opposite. There truly was no rest during war.
Nordik stirred slightly, his breath fanning Poe’s cheek.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice sleep-roughened.
“Yeah.”
Nordik rubbed his knuckles over Poe’s healing arm. “You need to rest. Shut off your brain for a little while.”
“Can’t.”
Nordik tightened his grip as if by sheer strength he could heal the hurts inside him. Poe closed his eyes and fought against the tears. Without Nordik this revelation might have damaged him beyond repair. At that moment he finally realized Odin and Hera had been right. He was only holding on to his sanity by his fingertips.
The sound of sirens suddenly cut through his dark thoughts. They sat up and looked out the window.
“That’s the main part of town. The businesses, the church—” Poe’s eyes widened as a hundred thoughts raced through his mind. “Nordik, what type of shifter was Abby?”
“Bird,” Nordik said as he stood up and grabbed his pants.
Apparently his line of thought ran along the same as Poe’s. Nordik had to help him dress because of his cast. Then they were out of the house even as the light in Poe’s parents’ room turned on. They ran to the main city center, only blocks away. It seemed every other building was on fire, and there weren’t enough resources to stop them all. Containment was the main objective. Poe dodged past the people and chaos, heading straight toward the church. He knew he could be wrong, but his gut said he wasn’t. With all that had been happening, not just with the vandalism here, but the increase in activity across the States and Arcas’s call for lone hunters to take matters into their own hands, thereby stretching the Agency’s resources thin, distracting them, Poe knew this wasn’t a coincidence. In reuniting with family, he’d stumbled into another mission.
Nordik was right on his heels but once or twice nearly stopped. Shifters noticed him, called to him for help. Poe didn’t hear what he said to them, but Nordik never left Poe’s side for more than a breath during their run.
They reached the church to find it, remarkably, untouched. But Poe’s worst fears came true: the convent was on fire. He gasped for breath, not because of the run but from fear, his heart pounding like an insane hammer against his ribs. He sped around the church and ignored the few firefighters yelling at him to stay back. Nordik was right behind him every step. Poe swung his head around, searching faces, and the longer it took to find Abby, the stronger the fear rooted in his heart.
“Do you see her?” he asked Nordik.
“No.”
Poe ran, belting past the firefighters, onlookers, and nuns in their dressing gowns who had made it out of the fire. He ran around the back, Nordik following with vicious curses.
“Poe! Byron!”
Poe reached the back of the convent and coughed as the smoke billowed toward him. The flames prevented him from getting closer. It didn’t take him long to know it was hopeless. He wouldn’t survive going in there.
Nordik halted beside him and gripped his arm, keeping him from moving forward. “Poe, I’m sorry, but—”
“Look!”
A side window shattered, and a lithe figure dressed in white jumped out and hit the ground hard. She was holding something clutched in her hand. Even as they raced toward her, Poe’s heart jumping in hope, three dark figures darted out from around the front of the convent and raced right toward her. Poe knew who they were even before the flames lit their faces.
Poe snarled, and Nordik growled as they charged together.
Sean and two of his friends, two of the four who were with Sean when Poe confronted him, fought with Abby. Two managed to grab her arms, and Sean yanked something from her hand. Then he kicked her in the stomach, and the other two slammed her ruthlessly to the ground before they all ran off. Poe reached Abby first where she lay in the fetal position and gripped her shoulder. She looked up, coughing, her face red and teary. She gasped when she recognized him.
“Get him, Poe!” she managed to choke out. “You have to get him!”
“Abby—?”
“The scroll. You have to get the scroll!”
There was an odd ringing in his ears as Poe stared at her, wishing his gut had been wrong about this one thing. Nordik was quicker. With harsh words spoken in his native tongue, he sprang up. The air shimmered and warmed, and suddenly there was a large white grizzly charging after Sean and his two friends.
“Nordik!” Poe couldn’t deal with any more shocks tonight. There were people here! Witnesses! How could he—
“Poe, please,” Abby cried as she clutched his arm, her other arm wrapped around her stomach. “It must be safe. The scroll. It’s my duty. It must be safe. You don’t know—”
“Yes, I do.” He hated to leave her, but he had to. He kissed the top of her head before running after Nordik.