Change of Heart (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 3) Page 17

  From the gleam of the hinges and the exposed framing, I could tell the box was made of silver bars. A wooden exterior and interior made it possible for wargs to lift it, or shelter in it, without it burning them. It would hurt like a mother if they ripped through the thin plywood to the metal beneath, though.

  Lyssa was too big to be carried, but that didn’t stop me.

  “Midas,” I called. “I found a survivor.”

  The kid had seen too much already. I wasn’t going to walk her into the center of camp to see what her alpha had done to himself, or the others. I stood with her on my hip, bouncing her as I would a small child, and let the nearest tent shield her from the rest.

  Midas jogged to us, his expression grim, and patted his pocket once for my benefit. I nodded that I understood he had found a clue, and then the three of us waited for the medics to arrive while Lyssa sobbed into my neck and told us where to find the other kids.

  I could only pray we found them alive.

  Seventeen

  The ice in Midas’s veins had nothing to do with the carnage surrounding them and everything to do with what Hadley had done. She had commanded him, and he had obeyed. That power over him ought to set the animal within him pacing, but it had sprawled in a dark corner of his mind to nap.

  The two halves of his nature had called a truce, but the reprieve left him jittery with unspent energy.

  With the beast ascendant, and his mind fraying, he could have killed Hadley.

  A snap of his teeth, and her delicate neck would have broken in his jaws.

  He had done it before, so many times, to so many other females.

  Only their mate bond had saved her, and she had no idea of the power she held over him. Until she had wielded it against him, he had no idea of the power she held over him.

  “Abbott is on the way.” Hadley nudged him toward the road. “He’s going to treat us and cut us loose.”

  The cleaners had arrived to catalog the carnage, and sentinels had extricated the traumatized children.

  Ayla Clairmont, tipped off by one of her spies, had already contacted the paranormal branch of social services about adopting the pups who had lost their entire families. Wargs required pack to thrive, to learn control and how to hunt, and her alpha instincts would have demanded she assume the duty of their education.

  Noticing the way Hadley used her elbows, he worried for her. “How are your hands?”

  “Crisp.” Her palms were mottled black, red, and white. “Hurts like a mother.”

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t save Mendelsohn.”

  Midas was certain that even if they had arrived sooner, they wouldn’t have stopped him from self-harm. Good alphas prided themselves on defending their pack, and Mendelsohn had destroyed his in a fit of drug-fueled mania. His bacchanalian leadership style lent itself toward his pack having a higher than usual number of females, and they had been no match for their alpha on a tear.

  “We have to shut this coven down.” Pain tightened her features, but she didn’t complain. “They’re going to pick us off, faction by faction, until they’ve created a power vacuum. Then they’re going to waltz in and claim the territory as their own.”

  “We won’t let it come to that.” Midas ached head to toe, but he blocked out the worst of it. “We’re going to hunt them, and we’re going to end this.”

  “They’re always three steps ahead.” Her exhale ended on a cough. “We can’t even find them.”

  “Faete, the club, was glamoured to conceal it from prying eyes,” he reminded her. “The coven could be holed up right under our noses, and we just can’t see them.”

  A calculating stillness swept through her body, and her lips parted. “Bishop was right.”

  The resignation in her tone set his skin prickling. “About what?”

  “His friend gave me a gift to help me find a Martian Roach, but he gave me one before that too.”

  Warning sang along Midas’s nerves, a premonition of danger. “What gift?”

  “Sight.” She tapped the center of her forehead, indicating a third eye, then brushed her fingertips over her eyelids. “The sight.”

  The moisture dried from his mouth as his thoughts caught up to hers, but she wasn’t done yet.

  “He gave me a preview when I dropped Bishop off with him, then he arranged for a private viewing.”

  “You’re not making any sense.” He eased closer to her. “What do you mean?”

  “You see, but you don’t see yet.” The approaching lights bathed her face in reds and blues. “That’s what he told me.” She frowned. “He claimed he opened my eyes a crack.” She looked to him. “He knew I would need that gift to find what we’re searching for, and he let me test-drive it.”

  “The second gift revealed a trail to the roaches. What did the first do?”

  “It allowed me to see past the glamour on his home to what was really there.” She flagged down Abbott. “With that gift, I could walk the streets in a grid until I found them. They couldn’t hide from me.”

  “Think of the cost,” he warned.

  “I am.” Her gaze drifted back to the Mendelsohn pack. “I can’t afford not to pay it.”

  The healer and his retinue arrived with grim countenances. They saw to Hadley, and then to Midas, but Abbott didn’t waste his breath asking them to be more careful. The mechanical way he treated them made it clear he had other things on his mind. That, or he had shut down his emotions to prepare for what awaited him.

  Once they got the green light, Hadley lingered a moment with Midas. “I have to find him.”

  “All right.” She hadn’t let him bargain alone, and he would return the favor. “Let’s go.”

  She salved his pride by not asking if he could handle the trip. Neither of them was in prime condition, but the coven was pounding the city on all fronts. They couldn’t afford not to hit back. Even if it cost them.

  “I have to call the other packs.” She booked them a ride first. “Clairmont and Garou should be put on alert.”

  The Clairmont warg pack lived in the city, in downtown. They were small, urbane, and insular. He doubted they trolled the streets for drugs, but if the coven had thought to dress it up, make it cost, the pack might have been tempted to give it a whirl.

  The Loup Garou were thugs. Odds were, they had been first in line to try Faete and decided, against common sense, to invest. They peddled whatever sold, and there would be paras willing to pay for a high that lasted hours instead of minutes. No doubt the old man would create addicts among his own people, but Midas doubted Garou lost sleep over it.

  Midas gave her room to warn the other alphas while he sent a text of his own.

  “That’s our ride.” She pulled up an address from a conversation with Linus. “This should be fun.”

  The way she squared her shoulders, ready for a fight, belied her bravado.

  The address Hadley read to the driver was unfamiliar, but Midas recognized the gentrified neighborhood by its reputation. High-end brothels catering to every kink imaginable operated in this area. His pack had more than a few members who spent their weekends, and their paychecks, behind these closed doors. He figured it was their business, so long as they made it to work on time come Monday.

  The hotel that drew Hadley’s eye had an artfully weathered blue door. Haint blue, if he wasn’t mistaken. He learned about the color during his time in Savannah. It was an old Gullah tradition to paint the ceilings of porches to keep away ghosts. He hadn’t realized it was practiced this far north in the state.

  “Ears perked and eyes open.” Hadley started up the steps. “I don’t know what to expect.”

  The door opened as she raised her fist to knock, and she cocked a hip and planted that same fist on it.

  The man, who wore only black leather pants slung low on his lean hips, was aware he was beautiful in a way that mortals envied, and knew how to use his appearance to his benefit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t leave so much skin on display as a carnal enticement
to invite visitors to look their fill then wonder how much it cost to touch.

  Dark eyes, luminous and curious, appraised them both. The tips of his ears, which he took no pains to disguise or hide behind a curtain of midnight hair, were dagger sharp in the way of high fae.

  “Hadley,” he said warmly. “What an unexpected surprise.”

  “I doubt it.” She locked gazes with him. “You baited your trap.” She honed her glare. “Consider it sprung.”

  “You aren’t much like your master, are you, little shadow?” He chuckled under his breath. “He loves the game.” He looked her up and down, and he took his time about it. “You’re more straightforward.”

  More than one person had mentioned Hadley’s lack of tolerance for dancing around subjects. Midas appreciated that frankness about her, but it did set her apart from Linus’s leadership model.

  “I don’t have time to play.” She tightened her hands into fists at her sides. “I prefer to speak plainly.”

  “So eager to prove yourself,” he murmured. “So eager to matter.” A smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. “You’ll slow down, in time.”

  “As much as I love cryptic remarks, I’m sure you can guess why I’m here.”

  “Come in.” He stepped aside. “You too, beautiful one.”

  Midas glowered at him as he crossed the threshold, and the twin scents of blood and sex filled his head.

  “I won’t hurt her,” the male promised. “That costs extra.”

  Based on the slender whip hung from a loop on his pants, he meant it.

  “The parlor is empty this time of day.” He guided them into a lush room with a roaring fire that put off no heat but added ambiance. “Have a seat, please.”

  Several ornate chairs and one chaise framed the center of the room in a conversational grouping. Midas sat in a chair that put his back to a wall and gave him a view of the door. He sighed with relief when Hadley sat on the spindly arm of his chair rather than accept the unspoken invitation to join the man on the chaise.

  “There’s a witchborn fae coven killing my people,” Hadley started, “and I need your help to stop them.”

  “Necromancers, you mean?” He flicked a glance at her shadow. “Or do I misunderstand?”

  Midas frowned at the darkened outline stretching across the floor, but it was just that—a shadow.

  “The people of Atlanta,” she ground out between her teeth. “All the people of Atlanta.”

  “Fae are immune to Faete,” he countered her. “Witches too. The coven wanted to be certain it couldn’t be turned against them.”

  “You’re telling me since it can’t hurt you, it’s not your problem.” Hadley vibrated with rage. “How nice it must be to sit on your nice chair in your nice house and know you’re safe.”

  “It is rather nice, now that you mention it.” He toyed with the curling ends on the whip. “I could make it nice for you too. Help you forget your worries.” He smiled, and it was cruel. “Help you forget yourself, your past.”

  “The past is what brought me here. It’s what shaped me. I’m not giving up a minute of it.”

  Leaning forward, he purred, “Are you that afraid of what you might become otherwise?”

  “I made mistakes, and I paid for them. I don’t need those erased to be aware of what I’m capable of and how dangerous that makes me. I’ve always known. The potential for evil has always been in me, and you can’t change that. Only I can.”

  “Hmm.” A frown creased his brow. “You keep your sins close as a reminder, as a punishment.”

  “We’re done here.” She glanced back at Midas, a warning in her eyes, then back to their host. “Thanks for wasting our time, Ruel.”

  The use of his name did it. Froze the smirk on his mocking lips, darkened his laughing eyes into pits that yawned full of terrible endings.

  “What did you call me?” The tips of his fingers lengthened into talons. “Who told you my name?”

  His Name, whispered once into his ear as a child and then forgotten, the one that held power over him.

  Midas let his magic hum beneath the surface of his skin, let it burn in his eyes.

  “Ruel,” she said again. “That is your name, isn’t it, Ruel?”

  Possession of his name was dangerous enough. To use it three times was binding.

  “You will regret this inhospitality.” His glamour rippled, distorted. “You were an amusement, but now I see I was wrong.” The bottom half of his body shivered, exposing birdlike legs and claws. “You’re an annoyance.”

  “You forced my hand.” Hadley sounded tired. “All I wanted was your help.”

  “Command it of me,” he growled. “Then be gone.”

  The promise of violence saturated the air, a vow that vengeance would be his for this insult.

  “I used your name to get your attention.” She strained toward him. “I don’t want to force you to comply. I want you to cut the crap and bargain with me so I can get back to the people who need me.”

  Silence lapsed while Ruel considered her, and then he crossed his taloned legs.

  “I will give you the sight,” he said slyly. “I will give it to your mate as well.”

  “Leave Midas out of this,” she warned. “This bargain is between you and me.”

  “Give me back my name, let me erase it from your mind, and I will open your eyes.”

  Midas had to admit, as far as bargains went, this was a straightforward one. On the surface. But fae were masters of exploitation.

  “The bargain is struck,” she said before Midas could warn her to slow down, to think his phrasing through.

  Rising with sinuous grace, Ruel approached them. He knelt at Hadley’s feet in a mockery of subjugation.

  “This won’t hurt.” He raked his fingers through her hair, his claws scratching her temples. “There we go.” He smiled at Midas. “I’ll just take what’s owed.”

  Black motes glittered on his fingertips when he lowered his hand, and he blew them across the room with a long breath, scattering them like seeds from a dandelion, his name lost on the wind.

  “But this will.” Ruel chuckled as he stabbed her between the eyes with his fingernail. “Awaken, little shadow. See the world as it truly is and be seen as you truly are.”

  The scent of her blood raised Midas’s hackles, but Ruel impaled him in the next instant with the same claw.

  “Awaken.” His cold eyes laughed at Midas. “See the beast you’ve claimed for your own.”

  The fae rose and prowled from the room with delight sharpening his cruel beauty.

  Neither he nor Hadley so much as breathed while the lush room transformed around them. The sight, gift or curse or both, burrowed into their minds, fading the lies and revealing the truths. But the décor wasn’t the only shocking change.

  “Hadley?” Midas gripped her arm. “What’s happened?”

  “I got what I wanted.” She heaved a sigh. “But then, I always do.”

  Midas shot to his feet and circled around to find another woman in Hadley’s place.

  And at her shoulder lurked a shadow that no longer bothered to mimic her shape but fashioned itself into a tall man that stared at him openly with its blank face.

  Her build was almost identical to Hadley’s, but their features set them apart enough they might have been distant cousins rather than sisters. Her eyes were a startling blue, and her hair was a luminous gold. A key-shaped tattoo dominated her left forearm, and hints of more ink peeked out from her clothing.

  “Amelie Pritchard.” He leaned in, filled his lungs, but smelled only Hadley. “I don’t understand.”

  She had been Grier Woolworth’s best friend since they were kids. He recognized her from Savannah. She had been under house arrest in Grier’s carriage house for the crimes she had committed, the murders. As a dybbuk. A creature of darkness that fed on energy, on magic, on innocent people.

  “This might help.” She removed a silver ring from her finger. “Now do you get it?”


  A different scent filled his head, darker and richer. More potent. It made his stomach tighten, with want or sickness, he couldn’t tell. The stronger her essence grew, the fainter Hadley’s became, until it vanished beneath the tide of misery and grief this woman carried in her.

  The fae had tricked them. That must be it. But how he twisted the vow to produce this, Midas couldn’t guess.

  “Let’s get out of here.” She refused to look at him. “We can talk outside.”

  All of a sudden, he regretted asking to know more about her. He should have been content with what he had, what they had, instead of pushing her. This fae bargain wasn’t his idea, but it still felt like his fault.

  Eighteen

  A lump in my throat made swallowing hard and speech impossible. Midas followed me out onto the sidewalk, and I was tempted to keep walking. I couldn’t outrun my past, but I could prevent it from catching up to me for a few more seconds.

  That was cowardice talking, though. I had known this moment was coming, and I should have done more to prepare for it. Truthfully? I hadn’t wanted to waste the time I had with Midas on imagining our end. It had been rocketing toward me since I agreed to the courtship, and I knew that. I knew that. So why did it hurt so frakking much?

  Midas pivoted on the top step and cast a frown back at the building. “It changed.”

  “The sight shows things as they truly are,” I reminded him. “This address exists under a glamour.”

  The switch between perceptions had freaked me out the first time I had my eyes opened too.

  The boutique hotel was gone, and in its place sat a cottage missing from a fairy tale. In my role as village idiot, I had wandered into the forest teeming with monsters and begged one for a favor. Then I had the nerve to be shocked when, wrathful and petty, it bit the hand I extended toward it.

  Cautious, Midas prowled up to me. “Who are you?”

  The pain behind my ribs swelled until my heart no longer fit in my chest, until I wished the worthless organ would burst and spare me from the next few minutes.