Page 43 of Property of Mako
“Tonight,” Calix corrected. “We’ll need full dark; we’ll already be battling the moonlight. We break the glamour, get in, and get the girls out.”
“How are we going to break the glamour?” Spook asked.
“I’m going to the source. I know a demon that knows a witch. Glamour of that magnitude is only created by fae, which I don’t know any unless one of you do,” he replied, glancing at each of them as they shook their heads. “Or a very powerful witch.”
“You know a demon that knows a witch?” Crypt snorted. “Witches hate demons. No way one would be connected with a demon.”
“Yeah, well, I know one,” Calix confidently insisted. He pulled out his phone and made a call. “Haidyn? I need a favor.” Pause. “Yeah, I know I’ll owe you. Okay, I’ll see you there.”
He ended the call.
“I have to go to this meeting alone. I need you to trust me on this,” he said to me. “Please.”
“Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. I didn’t care about strategy meetings or supernatural politics. All I could see was Lily, terrified and alone, scribbling a message on a stolen scrap of paper and trusting it would somehow find me.
Calix must’ve seen it in my face because a few minutes later, when the others cleared out, he stepped close. “We’ll get her, Lyra,” he murmured.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “We have to.”
His hand slid to my jaw, warm and grounding, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the smell of leather and the faint trace of his cologne. Trouble was coming, and we both knew it—but for that one heartbeat, I didn’t care.
He was beginning to be that for me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
This might be nothing more than sex for him. If not, we had to face the fact that our relationship had a very short window.
Because one day, I would get old and he wouldn’t.
Then I would die.
Chapter 19
Invitation into Hell
Mako
Haidyn was waiting for me at the far corner booth of the club we used when we didn’t want to be overheard—low light, high bass, and too much smoke for human eyes to see clearly. He looked like sin in a tailored black suit, his blond hair slicked back, the faint shimmer of his demon aura making the air around him feel charged.
“Been a while, brother,” he greeted, smirking as if we’d just met for a drink instead of to discuss breaking into one of the most dangerous supernatural gatherings in existence.
I slid into the booth. “I take it your witch is in?”
His smirk deepened. “Octavia’s always in—for me.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “She’s not thrilled about this, but she’ll make it happen.”
Octavia arrived like she owned the place, her presence snapping heads around. Power clung to her like a second skin—long strawberry-blonde hair, lips painted the shade of blood, pale blue eyes that glittered like frost and fire at once. She didn’t waste time on greetings.
“Haidyn popped into the location you gave him. He told me which wards were used,” she began before she pulled a small suede-wrapped packet from her pocket. “You need this to get in.”
Carefully, she placed it on the table before us, untied the leather thong, and unrolled the suede. Inside was a small glass vial sealed with red wax. She held it out and I took it from her.
“What do I do with it?” I asked as I studied the nearly black liquid. As I tipped the small jar, there was a deep iridescent red flicker that showed itself.
“The paper has the symbol you’ll need to paint on the palm of your hand with the potion to get past the veil to enter the auction. Call it an exclusive ‘invitation.’ And don’t you dare say where you got it if this goes bad.”
“You have my word,” I promised.
“That invitation only works with that specific potion. There should be enough in there for four of you,” she said as she motioned to the potion I held in the palm of my hand. “Don’t spill it or waste it. It would take me more time than you have to gather the ingredients to make more.”
“Understood,” I assured her.
