Page 49 of Blood Illusions

“Something like that, bro,” I replied eagerly. “I found the weird ornamental grass from the rock garden in this book.”

“What is it?” He stumbled out of his chair and toward us.

“Phoenix feather grass,” I told him as I pointed to the picture.

Tim looked closer at the image, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. “Well, if that’s really phoenix feather grass, those neighbors have either stumbled onto something big or they’re playing with fire, literally. Phoenix rebirths aren’t exactly your run-of-the-mill garden variety events. Means one of two things. Either a phoenix has been around there, which is a whole can of worms by itself, or someone’s figured out a way to fake it. That’s not much better. We need to tread carefully, dig a little deeper. This ain’t something to take at face value.”

Damon leaned in, scrutinizing the picture before turning back to Tim with a nod. “You’re probably right. Dad told us all about this stuff. That grass doesn’t just pop up like daisies. It means whoever’s got it knows a thing or two about our world.

“Could be hunters, could be something else on the spook spectrum. Either way, it’s not good news for us. We’re gonna have to check this out, see what kind of game they’re playing. And if they’re playing with phoenix feather grass, they’re playing for keeps.”

I thought about Justice. “Do you think the PMC knows who they are?”

Damon gave a wry smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Wouldn’t put it past them, especially Justice. Those PMC guys, they’ve always got an ace up their sleeve. Playing dumb? That’s page one of their playbook. If they know about the grass and who’s got it, they’re keeping it close to the chest. There’s probably a good reason for that. We need to be careful how we play this.”

“We’d better get our ducks in a row before we meet with them,” Tim stated.

I put my finger on a strange word. “Tim, there’s a passage about the grass and something called noctilumine.”

Damon frowned. “What’s that mean?”

Tim sighed wearily and looked at Damon and me, his expression serious. “All right, here’s the deal in plain English. This phoenix feather grass stuff is rare and powerful. It’s like a supernatural alarm system, glowing and wreaking havoc around anything dark and nasty.

“But here’s the kicker. It only grows where a phoenix, one of those fiery birds from the legends, has done its whole death-and-rebirth routine. And using it in this noctilumine concoction? That’s serious business. It’s like a truth serum for anything trying to hide its ugly face. A few drops of this, and whatever’s lurking in the shadows won’t be able to hide anymore.”

Damon scowled. “How did those people find this stuff and make…what did you call it?”

“Noctilumine,” Tim and I chorused.

“We’re playing with fire, aren’t we?” Damon sat back down in his chair.

“Yes, we are,” Tim agreed. “And if we don’t watch it, we could get burned.”

“Do you think the PMC knows about this?” I asked.

Tim shrugged. “Beats me, but tomorrow, the cat’s going to be out of the bag.”

By the time ten o’clock came, I was working on pure adrenaline. The only sleep I’d gotten was when I passed out over the ancient book. Tim, Damon, and I sat against the glass window at the Brewed Awakening, sipping our coffee. Mine was doctored with triple shots of espresso and a dollop of cream. I had to be on game when meeting with the enemy.

The sounds of the coffee machine hissing and customers chattering filled the cozy coffee shop. Despite being a busy day, we were lucky enough to snag a table by the window. As I sipped my latte, my gaze scanned the room and landed on Justice.

He strode in, towering over everyone with his dark hair pulled back into a messy man bun. My heart skipped a beat as he approached our table, dressed in a form-fitting black leather jacket over a dark sweater that accentuated his muscular build.

He wasn’t alone.

A tall man with broad shoulders towered over Justice. His long blond hair flared over his broad shoulders, and his piercing green eyes locked onto me. His long black wool trench coat covered a dark green sweater. This only enhanced his rugged appearance, exuding a sense of untamed power.

Tim rose from his chair. “Dr. Gould, nice of you to join us.”

So this was the powerful Dr. Malaki Gould, director of the Paranormal Mercenary Corps. Rumor had it he was a dragon shifter. By the looks of him, I didn’t doubt it.

Dr. Gould smiled. “Tim Shoneberg, good to see you again.” He held out his hand.

“Nice to see you, too,” Tim replied as they shook.

Damon gave Justice a cool stare.

Justice flashed me a handsome smile that made my heart melt. “Sawyer, how have you been?”

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