Wrath

“Don’t you have a car or something?” I asked.

“Ha!” He laughed as though I’d made a hysterical joke, and then gave a shake of his head. “We’re bikers. Cars are for pussies. Someone might have a truck or somethin’ somewhere, but it could take a few hours to track one down.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” I muttered with a sigh. “Tristan’s given me a few lessons, but I haven’t really ridden by myself.”

“The rest of ya’ll?” Trevor asked as his eyes scanned the others.

“No worries here, mate,” Jax said.

“I’ll, uh, ride with Jax,” Blossom answered, taking a step closer to the were-croc. She looked up at him. “If that’s okay with you?”

His face broke into a grin as he gave her a nod.

“I think you know my answer,” Vanessa said.

Trevor’s gaze came back to me. “Do you want to ride with her again or on your own?”

I cocked my head as I considered his question, grateful my headache had faded.

“On my own,” I finally said with assurance. As Vanessa would say, I needed to pull on my big girl panties, and this was one of only a few ways I could be independent. I already relied on others for so much. “As long as Blossom can handle the extra shield?”

“You have to have your own shield anyway,” she said. I opened my mouth to protest, but she stopped me. “Council’s orders, direct from the matriarch.”

Trevor gave me a refresher course, and then I made a few circles of the property as practice. Afterwards, the pack leader led us to a group of bikes at the far end of the parking lot.

“These are the ones I can spare. Take your pick.”

He helped me choose the best one for me—a Harley Softail he’d turned into a bobber with flat black paint and purple trim. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

“You were kind of my inspiration on this one, so it’s fittin’,” he admitted.

“You built all of these?” I asked, not sure what to make of his admission and not wanting to embarrass him.

“I mostly repair. The packs keep me pretty damn busy with all their fuck-ups, especially when they go Daemoni hunting, but I build when I can.”

“Wait—Daemoni hunting?” I asked, my stomach knotting. The Amadis had rules and hunting down the enemy as I imagined a wolf pack would do did not fall under those rules.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Trevor said. “We run the woods, and when we find them too close to Normans, we run them off, is all. Protect the innocents. It’s the most fun we can have during the full moon.”

I nodded as an idea occurred to me. “Instead of running them off, you think you can trap them somehow? Capture them?”

He eyed me with bemusement. “Maybe the newly turned.”

“Perfect.” I gave him Tristan’s and Charlotte’s cell phone numbers so he could call us when his pack captured any young Daemoni—or others who wanted to be converted. “If we can get here, we will. Otherwise, we’ll send someone else to take them to a safe house. You’ll be helping us build our army.”

I tried to make myself sound authoritative so my order came out that way—as an order. Because I knew Trevor and how he put his pack before all else.

“Anythin’ for you and the Amadis,” he said, although I didn’t miss the reluctant grunt that followed.

Well, it was better than nothing. At least I felt like we’d accomplished something for our mission.

When we arrived at the Atlanta safe house after a maze of backcountry roads to avoid checkpoints and Daemoni hunters, I hadn’t expected to see two more motorcycles there. After a long hello kiss and embrace, Tristan explained that he’d bought them in Jacksonville. They were the first vehicles they found for sale where they’d appeared.

“They bought them,” I emphasized to Vanessa.

She shrugged. “I didn’t see a wad of cash or a stack of credit cards in the few things the cops gave back to us.” She lifted her chest and gave her breasts a shake. “Unless you’re talking about using other ‘currency’.”

I rolled my eyes, but she was right—Tristan had had all of our cash on him when we’d had to bail off the plane.

I’d thought he’d been speaking to me while they were on the road, but I hadn’t heard the loud Harley engines in the background. Then Charlotte demonstrated how she’d magically muffled the sounds.

“Wouldn’t a car or van be easier?” I asked. “Especially now with all of us?”

Charlotte shrugged. “With Blossom’s help to shield and cloak, the bikes aren’t difficult. A lot easier to squeeze into tight spots when other drivers can’t see you. Or to sneak past a checkpoint.”

“Huh,” I said with a nod of understanding. “We managed to avoid any checkpoints. Did you pass a lot?”

“Three, which are three too many, considering this is the United States of America.” She shook her head slowly. “Not normal at all.”

So apparently we’d be riding motorcycles for our mission, but for now we only rode from the safe house to my old home in Atlanta, which served as a secondary safe house and wasn’t occupied at the moment. Although the Amadis had made it appear to have burnt down a couple of years ago, A.K. Emerson’s “heirs” rebuilt it, making it look exactly like it had before. Because it was exactly like it had been before—the fire and resulting rubble had all been an illusion.

An odd mix of emotions slammed over me when we walked in through the back door by the garage and I flipped on the lights for the family room. Tristan had never lived here with us, and, at the time, I’d never known the rest of the people here whom I called friends. Sheesh. I’d been nearly Norman then, nothing like the person I was now. So having them all here in this house full of memories felt a little weird. Mom, Dorian, and Owen had been the people in my life then, and one was gone by choice and the other against his will, and Mom was halfway around the world. My heart squeezed as I suddenly wished she were here, telling me everything I was doing wrong but loving and supporting me anyway. I bit my lip as I thought about how much I needed my mom.

Ridiculous. I had to hold on to the anger. I couldn’t let this place get to me.

When Tristan and I passed Dorian’s old bedroom on our way to my former suite, I nearly broke down. The Amadis had changed it, though, into more of a generic guest room rather than a little boy’s room. It’s not his anymore, I reminded myself. It’s just a place.

Climbing into my old king bed in the master suite—a bed where I’d cried oceans, threw temper tantrums, and allowed Foggy Alexis to move in—with Tristan on the other side felt weirder than any of the rest, though. But in a good way. I snuggled into his arms, which he wrapped around me tightly. Finally, for the first time since several nights ago when Blossom had magicked me to sleep, I relaxed a bit. And I caught him up on all of my events and experiences, down to what happened in Sundae’s office.

“You don’t know who it was or where they were?” Tristan asked when I finished. His heart pounded into my ear as I lay on his chest and drew random shapes with my finger over the ridges of his stomach.

“I was pushing really hard and completely lost track. They could have been five miles from where we were or fifty. Maybe more. But I’m sure it’s nothing. No one to worry about.”

“Probably. Unless you think it could be Kali?”

My finger stopped by his belly button, and my brows pushed together. I hadn’t considered that possibility. “I don’t think so. I think I’d recognize her signature by now, even from that far away. On the other hand, whoever it was became enraged when I found them. I’d never felt anything like it before, not even when Vanessa used to push me out.”

“Mad because you found them or because you were in their head?”

“You mean, like they’re hiding something and knew who I was?”

“Maybe. They could even know Dorian’s whereabouts.”

“Huh.” My finger returned to skating over his abs as I pondered this idea. “So maybe we should go back and try to find them again?”

“Let’s see what you and Blossom can do from here first,” he said as his hand rubbed circles over my lower spine. “You said the spell nudged you north again?”

“I think so, but I could have imagined it. You’re right. We have to stay focused on Dorian. If it was Kali, then maybe he’s not with her.”