just like their ancient hands and wands could conjure extreme magick when called upon.
“You didn’t tell us the whole story!” Sasha blurted out, unable to deal with the tension of protocol.
“It was complicated,” Sir Rodney said, his gaze now locked with hers and Hunter’s.
“It always is, but we’re either in it with you as full partners that you trust, or not,” Sasha said, so angry that she was now talking with her hands.
“Trust,” Hunter said evenly, “is the way of the wolf when we bond… Without it, friendship is in jeopardy.”
“If we tripped over a critical fact, unwittingly, we could have gotten killed.” Sasha got up in Sir Rodney’s face. “From now on, either you tell us what’s happening or we’re out. If you need us, we’re with you, but only as though we’re pack. Real family, all right?”
Sir Rodney watched his lead advisor slowly reach inside his robe sleeve to begin fingering his wand. But the monarch held up his hand as his personal guard tensed, ready to draw arms in case one of the wolves decided to lunge.
“You’re right,” Sir Rodney finally said, releasing a hard exhalation. “But it is not the way of the Fae to disclose sensitive information outside of our community.”
“When did you realize your magick was fading?” Sasha asked more calmly. “Or better yet, why did I have to finally go to starving Pixies to find out just how bad it had gotten?”
“That is a security breach, if it were to be common knowledge.” Sir Rodney said, lifting his chin.
Sasha looked at the five o’clock shadow that covered the Fae monarch’s normally clean-shaven jaw. “Although you were calm enough when I showed it to you, that sigil we found truly freaked out Ethan and nearly sent a Pixie into apoplexy,” she said carefully. “So you want to start at the beginning so we can investigate this thoroughly on your behalf?”
Sir Rodney let out a long, weary sigh. “A few months ago, the Will-o’-Wisps and the Pixies of the Small Court began to see their magick wane. Their glamour was sporadic, causing them to have to take extra measures to hide themselves from humankind, lest they be discovered. The Faeries in the teahouse gardens were also affected. Now a small section of the outer garrison wall can be seen by the naked human eye, if we don’t redouble our efforts daily to cover it-which is no trivial feat. It has been like a creeping death.”
“Sorcery, Vampires, the sigil is black magick, right?” Sasha looked around the room. “There’s an iron fence around the teahouse, so someone sending in bad vibes should have literally been stopped at the gate, right?”
No one answered and quiet strangled the room.
“Ethan’s wife Margaret didn’t come with him to check on a possible plague; she came as a medical and spell professional… to examine Penelope’s body for the same sigil that had been on Desidera’s-tell me I am wrong,” Hunter said, folding his arms over his chest.
“Yes. And I want to know who is responsible for this dark malfeasance!” Sir Rodney spun on his advisors, his gaze hot with unspent fury as he waited for answers. “The mark was on both girls, and still we have no answers? Desidera tells me that she is hiding something in the cellar, and then that is where we find her dead?”
“That information would have been helpful to know while we were down there,” Sasha said as calmly as possible.
“It might have saved us twenty-four hours of blind searching,” Hunter said through his teeth.
Sir Rodney looked away. “It was a Fae matter.”
“And now it’s not?” Sasha said, challenging him.
“Have you any idea what would happen to the Sidhe if rumors of a loss of power were to get out?” Sir Rodney paced away from Sasha and spoke with his hands behind his back as he walked the perimeter of the room. “You have no insight into Fae culture or you would be aware of just how dangerous any perception of a loss of power could be.” He stopped walking and stared at both Sasha and Hunter. “A weak monarch is a failed monarch. If he or she cannot keep the magick strong in the community, then he or she is destined to be overthrown-
Sasha relaxed slightly and turned to Hunter. “No less than a weak alpha at the helm of the Wolf Federations… Someone would be bound to call a challenge match.”
Hunter nodded and relaxed. “We gave you our word, and our word is our bond-to help you. That pledge will not change.”
“Thank you,” Sir Rodney said.
“But you need to tell us about the blood scent as well as the sigil,” Sasha amended.
Sir Rodney dragged his fingers through his hair. “That is complicated.”
The eldest advisor stepped forward, speaking slowly as dictated by his advanced years, but that in no way was an indicator of his keen mind. “Milord, as you know, Thompson Loughlin… one of our shrewdest Fae investigators, has a lead.”
“Good man, Loughlin,” Sir Rodney said, nodding, and ignoring the advisor’s overt hint that they had their own man working on the case-therefore there was no reason to involve Sasha and Hunter. “Finest nose for discreet investigations… I believe his mother served in a high post in my mother’s court years ago. His father was a digger Gnome in the Netherlands-a unique blend that makes him the best at unearthing hidden treasures and hidden truths. Yes, I am pleased that he is involved… Go on.”
Okay, now she knew something was being held back. Sir Rodney had just gone into a politician’s stiff spiel in front of his advisors, and he’d completely evaded her question about the blood. She’d wait for them to go through the motions, but not for long.
Glancing around the room when only silence greeted him, Sir Rodney reassured his skeptical staff. “These are unusual circumstances where we would break from tradition to speak freely before outsiders. But I trust the Shadow Wolves with my very life.” He looked at Sasha and then Hunter. “We may speak freely before trusted friends.”
Both Sasha and Hunter gave Sir Rodney a nod that contained unspoken thanks as their bodies visibly relaxed.
The elderly advisor drew a weary breath and extracted a wand from his billowing robe sleeve. Tapping on the round war table, he waited as a small, spherical miasma formed, creating a ball of mist that soon cleared as though a snow globe had settled. All eyes stared at the grisly scene of a scorched bird carcass still smoldering.
“We have seen the sigil… but it is not one we are familiar with. It will take some time to decode it, even though we know it is a brand of chaos magick. Some of the markings are taking us an inordinate amount of time to decode. But the basic feel to it is darkness.” The ancient advisor calmly returned his wand to his sleeve, causing the miasma to dissipate.
“This is an outrage; we will call for a Vampire inquisition. She could have been assaulted by a Vampire’s Black Death charge or their sorcery, if the markings of the sigil are impossible to read! It must be in their guttural language. How do we know for sure that’s not what it is?” Sir Rodney slammed his fist against the table and then walked away. “This is war.”
“Inadvisable, milord,” his second advisor warned, stepping forward with the others in a subtle display of solidarity.
“If you bring an inquisition on such speculative evidence as a Blood Oasis membership card and a few calendar markings, with only partial hearsay testimony that something was wrong from a dead Phoenix girl and your own special investigator, and we later learn it is not the bloodsuckers who are at fault… then we have not only presented a weak case that will come to nothing at the United Council of Entities, but we will have also alerted our archenemy that our defenses are weak, that our magick is fading…”
“Penelope gave us nothing through the Pixie,” Sasha added, siding with Sir Rodney’s advisors. “Gretchen was waiting for her and she never showed-they never talked. That’s a dead end.”
“I have been king of the Seelie Court for more than three hundred years. Never,” Sir Rodney said through his teeth, “has my court ever experienced such an insidious attack. Who else but Vampires would do this?” He spun on his advisors. “No… the better question is, who beside the Vampires would be strong enough or brazen enough that they could do this?”
“Need I remind you of your ex-wife, sir?” The eldest advisor just stared at him.
Sir Rodney waved him off and walked away. “After all these years, with her territories solvent, there is no reason to provoke war between us. We’ve already been down that path-she took her lot and I have taken mine here in New Orleans. There’s no motive.”
