Page 60 of Paris and the Reaper

“Or trust Paris to sell the Stick,” Icarus said. “I’m angry as fuck at the dog, but he’s not wrong about Paris being ready.”

“We’ll cover both,” Mary said as she joined their group. She laid a hand on Mac’s shoulder, her warmth pushing back at the threatening cold again. “Paris will show you, and when he does, we’ll be ready.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Just as Machad put a hand over Paris’s gut and asked him to make a call two days ago, Mac had done the same today, trusting his gut—and Icarus’s logic—that Paris would convince Brett to bring him to the altar at the Stick for tonight’s sacrifice.

And even though they’d felt certain that Brett would wait until tonight, until Samhain when the veil would be at its thinnest, they’d quickly moved into position yesterday, ready in case Brett accelerated the schedule. Mac had flown back and forth between the two sites yesterday, Liam on his wing, but tonight, he’d committed to the Stick. And like Mary had said, if it turned out the sacrifice was at the other altar in the Canyon Lands, Adam’s team there would fight until Mac and the rest of his team made it to them.

Paris hadn’t confirmed one way or another yet, hadn’t shown him anything via their bond, which still hummed oh so quietly between them, almost as if Paris was hiding it. Not like at the condo, behind a wall of magic and inaccessible to Mac, but like he didn’t want someone else to notice it. Mac took the comfort for what it was—Paris was still alive and the bond was still there when they needed it.

“We’ve got activity in the parking lot,” Icarus radioed from where he was stationed with Jenn and members of the pack for the ground assault. Close enough to be inside the bank of fog that blocked the rest of them from seeing anything, but far enough out not to trigger anyone else’s notice. “Group of cars are trickling in.”

“Any sign of Paris or Brett?” Mac asked.

“Negative,” Jenn reported, then after a moment added, “Visitors aren’t human.”

“Shifters or warlocks?” Jason asked, the lap of water audible against the side of the boat where he, Kai, Mary, and several of Paris’s recruits waited. Two warlocks for the field and another to stay behind and protect Mary.

“Bit of both.”

“Witnesses,” Liam said from beside Mac on the bluff where they were stationed with the flock. “Like at the other sites.”

They’d been prepared for that. No reason to think tonight—especially tonight—would be any different.

“Fucking hell,” Icarus cursed.

“What?” Mac snapped, harsher than intended, but his nerves were already fraying after twenty-four hours of waiting with no indication of when or if he’d ever see Paris again.

“Atlas just got out of one of the cars,” Icarus relayed. “And he’s back in his villain attire. Fully suited.”

Noif, then, justwhen.

“What the fuck is he playing at?” Jason growled, and from Mac’s vantage on the bluff, he saw the light of a fireball through the fog, on the water near where their boat should be.

“Call the other team down,” Mary said. “This is the site.”

Mac clasped his collar, ready to yank his shirt off and shift, but Liam stopped him, hand around his biceps. “Not yet, brother. I know you want to fly, but we can’t go until Paris is there.”

“He’s right,” Jenn said. “We can’t risk scaring them off. We might never find Paris, then.”

He appreciated that Paris was her primary concern, not the giant, but fuck, this was killing him. And he was lashing out at any target. “Then someone tell Jason to put the fucking fireball out,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “I can see it from here.”

The light on the water vanished, the Bay dark again.

“What’s going on?” Mac asked after another minute passed.

“The witnesses are gathering,” Jenn replied. “In a semicircle like at the ridge.”

“Atlas is behind the altar,” Icarus added as the wind gusted around them. “That fucker, what is he doing?”

“Babe!” Mary chided before Mac could. “Details.”

“It looks like he’s sucking power from the other warlocks. He’s got his hands raised. Why’s his magic yellow? It’s usually green. Fuck, he’s chanting something, but I can’t hear it.”

“It sounds like Gaelic, Mac,” Jenn said.

Kai gasped. “Is he trying to open the portal himself?”

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