Page 137 of In Prey We Trust

A loud roar gets my attention and I swivel to see Flames zipping across the room in a low dive, taking out three hoods creeping up on our girl as she fights a tall one spurting red magic. His appearance scared the piss out of a bunch of nearby shifters, so BearCori is busy pushing them to the exits like Fitz. So far, I haven’t found my targets, but I also don’t see Felix or Chess. My brow furrows and crab crawl across the wall to get to the balcony above. Perhaps if I…

Blue lightning shoots across the room, getting everyone’s eyes as it zips to a corner where Chess is being pinned to the wall by two hooded figures. TigerFelix is fighting his way there, but he’s getting stopped by invisible shit as he snarls in fury. I have to find these magical fuckwits before people realize ma petite is the one shooting power; otherwise, she might get labeled as part of the rebels, not someone fighting to free our students.

As soon as the bolts hit the hoods holding Chess, Dolly darts back to the shadows and I breathe easier. Checking the area, I leap over the balcony railing to mingle with the people hiding above the fray downstairs. The mage has to be up here; the view is perfect for an area of effect attack—it allows them to see but not engage directly. Knowing that tidbit makes me think our conjurer is not Fae, but likely one of the other varieties of spellcasters. Fae know how to defend both magically and physically; they were trained warriors from the beginning of time.

That doesn’t mean they’re not involved in this group, though. I’ve smelled proof of things that cannot be without their presence.

A dull throb emits from my amulet, and my eyes widen. It hasn’t done that in many years. Shaking my head, I mutter to myself, “They are here. But how is the question, even if why seems more prudent.”

Pressing against the wall for a moment, I close my eyes, remembering the last time I saw any of the Fair Folk in person. I know what happened then—which is why they cannot be here. It’s possible some enclaves remained afterward, but not a single whisper of their existence has made it through the world since. Unless they have been biding their time… No. Despite their immortality and penchant for grudges, I do not believe they’d risk their secret lives to attack shifters with random magic users.

Unless…

I swallow hard, knowing if my wild supposition is true, the world is not ready for the violence that will be unleashed. If magic users and Fae who were not forced into the portals after the Treaty have been gathering forces, biding their time over centuries of development in the non-magical world have decided it is time to make themselves known… This results from a long planned out endgame and they have knowledge about the outcome. The Fates will have foretold this and there’s a prophecy somewhere being hidden by our crooked leaders.

The room fills with arcing colored lights and I shake myself out of it. It’s getting out of hand; a battle like this cannot continue inside or many people will die. The stone at my neck pulses again and I turn to see a very regal-looking woman dressed in designer clothes watching the mess. Her aura is far too calm and I don’t recognize her as one of the founding families of the Council.

She has to be the mage—and a powerful one at that, because she’s using no amplification tools.

I stride through the crowd, keeping my eyes on her as I reach for Flames. ~I think I found the illusionist. Keep your eyes on the team while I try to force her to leave. ~

He doesn’t respond, but I feel his agreement as I make my way through the milling dignitaries, who are too stupid to get the hell out of here. None of them are Council members—those assholes disappeared once we entered the fray, along with Dolly’s mother. They must have had a bolt hole planned for the inevitable attack and it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re watching this with glee. If you cut the footage just right, it will look as though magic users are all dangerous and traitors to their rule.

They might be, but I get the sense more is going on here and I’m going to find out what.

“Cease,” I say when I get close enough to the woman for her to hear me above the din. I push my royal command into the words, something I rarely do. Her head turns, and she gives me a knowing smirk when she sees the amulet dangling from my neck.

“The poor exiled King. Yes, we were warned you might be trouble. Unfortunately for you, that trinket holds minor magic, and you’ve weakened it by splintering a piece off.” Her eyes glow a brilliant green, then fade to black as she chuckles menacingly. “You are the wrong shifter to come for me, child of the Earth.”

I don’t have time to respond when her hand flicks at me and my feet are surrounded by rocks. They hold me in place as firmly as any bondage I’ve ever felt except they’re melding into my obsidian outer layer to prevent me from breaking free without shattering my skin. Panic floods me as I gaze at the woman, the touch of her magic on me breaking whatever illusion she’d cast over herself.

The real illusionist is a five foot tall earth pixie glowing with power much stronger than pixies have ever contained. She grins with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth as her cage crawls up to my waist, pinning me. “Aye, Monsieur. We have so many new tricks up our sleeves from resting for so long and drawing in the power of those who would force us into the shadows. Your merry band of misfits is no match for what is coming.”

My eyes narrow, catching something in her words. The exact phrasing used by any of the Fair Folk is extremely important and a long time ago, I was well-versed in diplomacy with their kind. “What you aren’t saying is that you don’t have permission to kill me, only stop me from helping.”

“Perhaps, gargoyle. But your time will come—all of your times will come. The shifters with their lust for domination, the sheep who followed without questions, and the betrayers who sided with them. None of you will escape The Reckoning. It has been foretold.”

A mighty growl that shakes the wall comes from below and we both turn to see my girl standing on a table, her hands clutched around a knife as she fights a hood with the purple magic she warned us about. My pixie captor laughs crazily when she sees me growl, slapping her leg in mirth. I flex my wings, determined to break free even if I’m in the infirmary for weeks afterward.

I won’t let them hurt her.

“Oh, punished Prince! We won’t harm your precious little rabbit. No, we have plans for her, and this is only the beginning.” She watches for another moment, grinning as blue lightning arcs around the room wildly. “There it is. Another level. Excellent. She will be pleased.”

I blink, confused by her babbling. The pixie winks at me, waving her hand at the battle downstairs casually. The invisible enemies seem to disappear, because injured shifters fall to the ground in a heap. The hooded figures mixed in go up in smoke, leaving behind their wounded and the people fighting them off. Those who don’t get up dissolve into dust that flies towards the exits as the pixie points. Her smug expression only gets more so as she laughs again and snaps her fingers. The rocks holding me disappear, but I still can’t move.

“Know this, Renard Laveaux. We will continue to take what we need to defend ourselves and win back what was lost. Your band of misfits have the choice to help or hinder—for now. Soon enough, we will not give them a choice. The girl is key and you cannot prevent our path, nor can you escape the payment long due for your own sins.”

“My sins?” I growl. “I didn’t—”

“You are not responsible for the larger war, young gargoyle. However, you have shaped our destiny since you were exiled. She will not be denied.”

A clap of thunder rents the air and I’m no longer frozen in place as she poofs. Running to the railing, I see everyone below knocked out cold, thrown to the ground with the force of her magic. Jumping the rail to hit the ground hard, I ignore the building shaking as I make my way to Dolly. Unlike the others, she’s awake, just dazed as fuck. I can almost see the birdies flying around her head as she mumbles to herself.

“Ma petite, are you okay?” I ask as I drop to look at her carefully.

“Did you get the number on that fucking bus? The driver’s a lunatic,” she mutters. “Knocked me clear into a fucking duck pond.”

“No, mon amour. I didn’t see the license plate.” Her crazy head smacked babble hits me and I laugh, holding my sides as I look around the unlikely scene. I can’t stop and even the dark rumble I recognize as my mate doesn’t make the gallows humor flowing over me subside.

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