“What am I, little one?” Daric asked, his eyes amused.
“You’re like us, but different.” Her eyes scrunched up at him, and she took his hands. “Oh. You touched something. Something …” Her breath came in small pants. “I don’t know … it’s like your hands … they have stains …” Her face went pale. “So much death … I …”
“Shhh …” Gabrielle pulled her back. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
“Mama … it’s so terrible,” she sobbed into her mother’s arms. “So much blood.”
Daric’s eyes turned stormy. “Before coming here, I transported the dagger,” he said, referring to the one artifact of Magus Aurelius that the Lycans possessed. The mages had another—a necklace, while a third was lost, which is what Daric and his son Cross had been looking for. “We change its hiding place every now and then.”
“You can really see it?” Lucas asked Marina.
“We both can,” Adelaide said. “The dark sight shows us the presence of magic, and in the case of powerful objects, traces of it.” Her small body shook as if a chill passed over her. “That object … whatever it was … bad gris-gris. Blood magic.”
“The artifacts of Magus Aurelius were infused with the blood of three hundred Lycans and three hundred humans,” Daric said. “The mages plan to use all three to bring darkness and destruction to the world.”
“Ah.” The old woman’s head bobbed up and down. “Three is a special number when it comes to magic, oui? Three artifacts. Three hundred humans. Three hundred Lycans.” She thought for a moment. “Just as I feared. Now, we must work together to find it. Whatever the Beaumonts can do to help, we will do it.”
“Thank you,” Lucas said, bowing his head. “We appreciate any help you can give us.” He motioned for them to take their seats on the third empty couch in the room. “Now, I have some good news, at least. We’ve made some progress in tracking down how the mages are able to fund their activities. Lizzie?”
The redhead stood up and took a tablet computer from her bag, facing it to the room. “It took a lot of work—I mean a lot of work, exhausting every favor I had and owing a couple more people, but I was able to trace the funds the mages have been using. The money’s been funneled into layers and layers of shell companies in the Bahamas, Lichtenstein, Estonia, Cyprus, and Cayman Islands.” She shoved her tablet forward and names began to scroll along the screen. “I was able to trace the sources from a couple of companies, most of which are owned by these people.”
Arch craned his neck forward, eyes squinting. “Peter Kyrakolous … Irina Alekperova … Sir James Dalton … J.S. Strohen … Bertrand Pinault … that’s like a list of Forbes’s Richest People.”
“I know, right?” Lizzie said. “But the paper trail doesn’t lie. Somehow, the mages were able to convince these people to ‘donate’ to their cause.”
“It’s not farfetched,” Lucas said. “They do have the necklace. That means—”
“Apologies for the delay.”
All eyes turned to the door, not because it opened, but because someone had materialized in front of it. It was Cross Jonasson, Daric’s hybrid son. He looked just like his father—tall, Viking-like, with long blond hair though the sides of his head were shaved, and he sported a scraggly thick beard. Like his father, he possessed powers that allowed him to move across long distances and materialize almost anywhere. Delacroix had previously met him in Zhobghadi when they rescued King Karim from his enemies and the mages.
“I had some business to attend to.” Cross strode forward. “Primul,” he said, acknowledging Lucas. “I have—”
Marina shrieked. “You too!”
“What’s wrong?” Gabrielle asked.
“He’s … he’s …” Her face scrunched up in determination as she walked toward Cross. The hybrid seemed frozen to the spot and didn’t stop the young girl from coming closer or taking his hand. “You’ve touched something bad, too.”
Daric frowned. “No, only I have touched the dagger.”
“But his hands,” Marina cried. “His hands.” She stared up at him. “You’ve touched it too and …” She frowned. “What’s wrong with your glow?”
“She’s right,” Adelaide said. “You’ve touched something very powerful. It’s similar to what stains the warlock’s hand, but different.”
“Cross?” Lucas’s voice was tight. “What is she saying?”
“Son.” Daric came forward, his face inscrutable. “What’s the meaning of this?”
The atmosphere in the room became thick as molasses. Delacroix held on to Mika’s hand and she squeezed back. His wolf was going crazy, hackles raised and ready for action. He didn’t know what was going on, but if there was something wrong, he had to get her out of here.
Cross’s expression remained neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She,” Lucas nodded at Marina, “can detect traces of magic. And she knows you’ve touched it.”
“Touched what?” Cross asked nonchalantly.
“The artifact, son.” Daric raised his voice, a rare occurrence for the normally calm warlock. “You’ve touched the ring of Magus Aurelius, haven’t you?”
“You have it?” The air crackled with the power of Lucas’s wolf. “All this time, you’ve had it?” His eyes glowed as his wolf reached for the surface.
Cross’s nostrils flared as he seemed to struggle to keep his stoic mask in place. “It’s not … it’s not what you think.”
“What the hell are we supposed to think?” Lucas took a step toward him. “You’ve been keeping it from us and—”
“I’m sorry,” he said, turning his head to his father. “But you have to understand …”
Lucas let out a growl and lunged at Cross, but he only got air. The hybrid had disappeared into thin air. “Goddamn … get him,” he said to Daric, his voice deadly. “I don’t care if he’s your son, I want him back here.”
Daric seemed to hesitate, but nodded. “Yes, Primul.” And then he shimmered away.
“I don’t understand, Mémère.” Marina’s blonde brows were drawn into a frown. “Did
