I met each of their gazes. A brief blur of faces, of eyes, of expressions: judgment, curiosity, and blatant hatred.

Yeah, well, I was thrilled to meet them too.

Maeve appeared from one of the doorways, walking beside a giant of a man, easily six inches taller than me or Zay, and almost as wide-shouldered as Mackanie Love. Black hair, dark beard with a dust of gray cut close to his jaw. He wore an old bomber jacket complete with wool collar over a T-shirt, jeans, and lumberjack boots. He smiled as he talked with Maeve. He gave off an easy, ready-for-a-fight kind of vibe, like he was in the company of old friends and old enemies and would be more than happy to take either down.

Some of the tension in the room shifted. Not that it was much better; it was just different.

Zayvion started off toward Maeve and the big man. I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see if this, perhaps, was Terric. But Shame’s fake smile had turned into something introspective. Wicked. Boy was planning something. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but anytime I’d seen that look on his face, it had been trouble.

“Who’s that?” I asked as I strode toward an empty table in the exact center of the room, not caring who was staring at me, nor what faction I might be sitting down with.

Shame followed. “Hayden Kellerman. One of Mum’s old friends. Might be my new da, the way she’s looking at him.” He yanked a chair out from the table, grinding the thing across the wooden floor, and then slouched down into it, scowling.

“You don’t like him?”

“Are you even in the same room with me?” He gave me a brief, sideways look. No smile, but plenty of twinkle in that eye. “I thought you were good at reading people.”

“So you do like him. What? Don’t want your mom to know?” I took the other chair, and sat with a lot less noise, thank you.

“Better that way. For some reason she doubts the purity of my intentions when I give her pointers on her love life. Especially when it comes to me handing out her phone number.”

“Doubts your purity? Can’t imagine why.”

He kicked my foot under the table, not hard, and went back to his sullen scowl.

I’d missed dinner, so checked out the cheese, chose a few squares, and popped one in my mouth. Very good. Mild and a little smoky. I watched Zayvion make his way across the room, pausing to talk and shake hands with at least a dozen people as he slowly strolled toward Maeve and Hayden.

“He’s popular tonight,” I noted.

“Guardian of the gates,” Shame said like that explained it all. “I think he’s been in Alaska.”

“Zay?”

“Hayden.”

“And?”

“And. Nothing.” He picked up a glass of water, took a drink. He looked much more relaxed, or maybe he had been relaxed and I just hadn’t been paying attention. This many powerful magic users in one room made me jumpy.

No, it made me want to stand up and walk out. But that wasn’t the way it worked. Once a part of the Authority, you didn’t leave without checking your memories at the door. And I planned to keep hold of as many of my memories as I could.

I watched Zayvion work the room, all Zen and smooth, deadly confidence. Looked good on him. And it made an impression on the other people in the room too. Made them sit back, calm, or sit forward, anxious, reactions that were interesting in and of themselves.

For the first time, I realized Zayvion was a respected, or maybe even feared, member of the Authority. Not just a student. Not just a man who patrolled the streets looking for bad guys. But a very dangerous man who used all forms of magic—Life, Blood, Death, Faith, light, and dark—to guard the gates, to keep magic in the way the Authority intended it to be kept, and the people of this city safe. Even if it meant opposing fellow members of the Authority.

“Shame?” I asked, keeping my gaze on Zay.

“Mmm?”

“Am I dating royalty?”

“You tell me.”

I smiled. “King Jones. Doesn’t sound very royal.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “He’s a beauty, though, isn’t he? Especially when he’s working. Can make a mountain bow down to the sea.”

I sat back to enjoy this. Maybe I’d get a good look at a part of Mr. Private I hadn’t seen before.

Zay finally made it over to Hayden. I was right. Hayden was about six inches taller than Zay, and twice as broad at the shoulders. He made Zay look tiny, towering over him like that. Hayden would make a hell of a Viking, swinging a battle-ax or carrying a cannon over one shoulder as he stormed the castle gates.

He shook Zay’s hand, then wrapped him in a huge bear hug, slapping him on the back so loud, I winced as it echoed through the room.

“Good to see you, boy!” Hayden’s voice carried over the rest of the conversations filling the place. “Looks like you’re about to be put through your paces! Think you’re up for it?”

Zay stepped back and answered, but his response was so quiet, I couldn’t pick it up, not even with Hound ears.

Still, Hayden laughed. “That’s what I like to hear. Got some new kind of fire burning in him, doesn’t he, Maeve? What you been doing to this boy while I’ve been gone?”

“Excuse me,” said a man behind Shame and me. “Are you Daniel Beckstrom’s daughter?”

Danger. That was all I knew. Shame tensed from head to foot, both hands off the table now. The cheese knife was missing.

I inhaled, taking in the stranger’s scents—the plastic of too much hair gel, and a deeper note of something faintly metallic. He was not familiar to me. I turned.

He was maybe midthirties, shorter than me, looked like he knew his way around a gym, and gave off that professional broker, banker, doctor vibe. Wore a Nike T-shirt under a Windbreaker, and jeans with tennis shoes. Clean haircut. Clean-shaven. Small, close-set brown eyes. I’d never seen him before in my life.

“Your father was a good man. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

If he thought my father was a good man, my opinion of him just took a dive. Still, I had manners. “Thank you. And you are?”

“Mike Barham.” He held out his hand. I didn’t take it.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “If you’ll excuse us, I don’t want to miss out on the main event.”

He glanced at Shamus and gave a halfhearted attempt to look surprised. “Shamus Flynn,” he said. He didn’t sound angry, but hate radiated off the man. “I didn’t know you were in town. Still living with your mother?”

Shame didn’t turn. Didn’t twitch, didn’t look at him.

Mike’s smile slipped. He walked around to stand next to Shame, which did not seem like a very smart thing to do. “You still mad at me about the position up north?” he asked. “You know the best man won. Plus, you’d never make it out there without your dear mother to protect you. It’s dangerous out in the real world.”

Something inside Shame coiled and burned, ready to leap. One more word out of Barham, and I was pretty sure Barham would have a cheese knife stabbed in his throat.

“Blow me, Barham,” Shame said.

Barham shook his head. “You are a spoiled little boy, Flynn. Your father used to tell me you were his biggest disappointment. He used to tell me he had wanted a son, not a fag.”

Shame rolled his head back and smiled up at him. “Tell me more about my father, Mike. Please do.”

I’d never heard that tone out of Shame. It was sweet, nice. And scared the hell out of me.

“You,” I said to Mike Barham with enough Influence to stun a rhino, “move away. Now.”

He jerked, and glared at me. He opened his mouth.

“Go,” I said.

He did as I said, because he couldn’t not do it. Under my Influence, he turned and walked away. He ended up across the room, where he sat at another table, and threw me angry looks.

Whatever. I was not going to just sit there and listen to him insult my friend.

It took Shame a full five minutes to finally let go of the cheese knife under the table, and place it back on the table. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t say anything. Just rolled his head down and stared off on some middle distance.

“So, he’s a prick,” I said. “Want to talk?”

He shook his head imperceptibly. I didn’t push him on it. I’d always thought Shame was straight. Not that it mattered. If Mike had wanted to make Shame angry, he’d done a bang-up job of it.

I glanced around the room, looking for Zayvion. He was absorbed in a quiet, intense conversation with another man I’d never met. The man with Zay was slender and tall, wore black slacks and a black turtleneck, and held himself with an elegance that made me think of historical movies with sword fights and aristocrats. His hair was so blond, it was white, and long enough it fell between his shoulder blades, pulled back and banded. He and Zayvion were both turned half toward us, talking quietly, but also with hand gestures, as if they had a lot to say, and not enough time to cover it with words alone.

Hoping to change the mood, I nudged Shame.

“So who’s Zay with now?”

Shame blinked and seemed to come back from a long, long distance. He inhaled, and looked in the direction of my gaze.

“Terric,” he breathed.

It wasn’t the sound of a man who hated another man. No. In that one word, in that one name, was longing, need, the sound of something precious lost.

I didn’t realize they had been intimate. Or maybe they hadn’t. Maybe the draw between Soul Complements wasn’t about the sex. Maybe it was just about magic. Using it, having it, letting it use you, immersed and joined by it in ways unimaginable. Power.

Whatever it was, Shame’s body language was that of a starving man using all his strength not to yield to the poisoned feast before him.

I thought about putting my hand on his arm to console him, and decided against it. Shame was keyed up and I didn’t want to get a cheese knife in the throat.

“Zay and him friends?” I asked instead, trying to draw Shame down.

“We all were once.” Saying that seemed to help. He closed his eyes a moment. Maybe he realized he was sitting on the edge of his seat. He relaxed in stages back into his normal slouch and rubbed his gloved hand over his eyes.

“Balls,” he said. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Were you and Terric lovers?”

“No.” He sighed behind his gloves. “I’m not gay. But that man . . .” He pulled his hand away from his eyes. “Soul Complements. It’s . . .” He just shook his head. “Him and me . . . and magic? No. It doesn’t—can’t—work.”

“Did you refuse to be tested to see if you and he were Soul Complements because you were afraid you might want sex with him?” Yes, I am tactful that way. And also stupid.

He stared at me for a moment. “It’s good you and I are friends, Beckstrom,” he finally said. “Because I’m willing to ignore that ridiculous nonsense that just fell out of your mouth. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with sex, okay? There were other reasons, other . . . bad things.”

“Like?”

“Like I’m done talking about it. And like I wish Mum had ponied up a bottle or two of wine right about now.”

“I can see why she wouldn’t want to serve alcohol to a roomful of trigger-happy magic users,” I said.

“She doesn’t have to feed it to the magic users. She could just feed it to me.”

“I’ll buy you a beer if you give me a who’s who on the rest of the people here.”

“Done.” He sat and leaned his elbows on the table. “The three women laughing over there? Dark wavy hair, coffee skin, and beautiful matching sets of big, lovely—”

I slapped him on the arm.

“Hey. Eyes. I was going to say eyes. What were you thinking? They’re the Georgia sisters. Life magic. The blonde next to them, about Mum’s age in the biker jacket who looks like she can wrestle an alligator? Darla. Death magic.”

He shifted in his seat a little. “The Russian underwear model over there is Nik Pavloski, and the family man next to him is a sweet-hearted killer named Joshua Romero. Faith magic—that means they’re both Closers. At the table near the wall is the ass wipe, Barham. Life magic, and the woman sitting next to him who looks like she hates him—petite, pale, black hair with a red streak, and a knockout scowl—Paige Iwamoto. She’s Blood magic. Stab him, baby—you know he deserves it.” Shame licked his lips and stared at Paige, as if he could will her to wield the cheese knife.

“Shame,” I said.

He looked away from Paige and Mike, giving the room a subtle glance while he reached for a piece of bread. He would make a good spy.

“You know the rest of the people in the room, I think.”

I looked around, the remaining people standing and sitting at the other tables: Kevin Cooper, Violet’s bodyguard; Sunny, whose demeanor was the exact opposite of her name; Ethan Katz, who was my dad’s and now my accountant; the twins Carl and La, whom I’d seen briefly at my test; the ex-quarterback-looking dude whom I’d also seen briefly at my test; and a few other suits—two women and a man—board members from Beckstrom Enterprises I’d met over the last couple weeks. The rest of the people I’d seen off and on at Maeve’s, but hadn’t been officially introduced to.

“Pretty much,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, about that beer.”

“If I could please have your attention.”

I glanced at the front of the room. Victor, trim and gray-haired, stood behind the long table, an open laptop in front of him. His suit jacket hung on the back of the chair, along with his tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow. Even from this distance, I could see that his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he’d just been through the longest meeting of his life, and been elected to stand up and give everyone the bad news.

Maeve, looking more composed and refreshed than Victor, sat to his left. Next to her was Liddy Salberg, a quiet, mousy woman, who took plain to the extreme. I’d first seen her at my dad’s burial. She’d also been at my test, and she’d since been my teacher in Death magic. I never seemed to get a good read off her body language. That mousy exterior hid something else—I was sure of it—though I’d never seen her be anything but polite and professional.

Still, I got the impression that she didn’t like me, or that I made her nervous.

At her left was Sedra, the head of the Authority in Portland. Always cool, always portrait-perfect, her unchanging expression and porcelain complexion made her look like she was carved out of marble. Only her blue eyes gave her a hint of life. Her bodyguard, Dane Lannister, stood behind her, looking how he always looked: relaxed and deadly. There was something about him that made me pause, like a bad taste in my mouth, but try as I might, I couldn’t think of what it was about him that bothered me.

Instead, I wondered who usually filled the empty seat next to Sedra, wondered if perhaps it had been my father.

Interestingly, Jingo Jingo, who usually made himself a part of any gathering, was nowhere to be seen.

Weird.

“Please be seated, so we may begin,” Victor said.

Everyone made their way to seats, filling the tables ahead of us, and behind us.

“Please, please, please,” Shame whispered so quietly, I wasn’t sure if he said it or I imagined he did.

Zay and Terric walked toward us, a study in opposites, and yet both powerful, calm, confident. Terric angled to take the seat next to Paige. Zay sat next to me, shifting his chair so he could better see the front of the room.

“Exhale before your head explodes,” Zay said quietly. “He’s not coming to the table.”

Shame exhaled.

Victor began speaking. “As many of you have heard, we have an unprecedented warning that a wild-magic storm will be hitting the Portland area soon. We think it will strike within the next forty-eight hours. That gives us some time to coordinate our efforts and work together against this threat.”

He paused, taking the time to make some eye contact. I’d seen my dad do that when he was facing a hostile audience. While Victor did that, I glanced at the body language within my range of sight.

Tight. Pensive. Maybe not explosive but damn close. Pretty much the same as when I’d walked in.

I’d already figured that these people were secretive and suspicious. But until this moment, I hadn’t realized that these people barely tolerated one another.

Neat.

That brewing war? I’d put my bet on the table that it was done brewing. All it needed now was a spark to set it off.

My stomach clenched as I realized the war might already be on, and lines might already be drawn as to who should use magic, and how it should be used. And I had no idea who wanted what, nor whose side I was on.

I reached back in my head to see if Dad had something to say about all this, but he had been quiet as a corpse—ha, not funny—ever since I walked through that door.

I had the feeling he didn’t much want to give Liddy or Jingo Jingo or anyone else an excuse to go digging around in my head looking for him.

Victor was done with the eye-contact pause.

“Our largest concern for the citizens of the area is that the wild magic will interrupt, or warp, the spells already in place in the city. We’ve compiled a detailed list of businesses and services that we will monitor and protect, and prioritized them from the most vital to the least, and divided that by the quadrants of the city. Since St. Johns has no conduits for magic, we’ll just need to cover four of the five quadrants.”

He glanced down at the laptop, then back up. “I know many of you have . . . vested concerns in the way magic is made available to the public. Here in this city, and in others. Now is not the time to push those agendas forward. Loss of life has never been the Authority’s goal, and certainly now, more than any other time, a significant loss of life at the hand, influence, or neglect of a member of the Authority would carry dire consequences to any and all involved.”

Threats. There’s a neat way to ruin friendships and attract enemies.

“We’ve put together a suggested list of which businesses and services we’d like members to monitor. It’s been an . . . exhausting few days.” He took a drink of water.

“This list isn’t perfect. I’m sure there will be changes. We’ll distribute it in a moment. Are there any questions so far?”

There were. About forty-five minutes of questions, most of them dealing with things I did not understand. It was like everyone had suddenly switched to a foreign language, half of which sounded like it dealt with magic, and the other half sounded like some kind of underground lingo.

“Should I be understanding any of this?”

Zay leaned back a bit. “It’s pretty standard elbowing and power plays for who gets to do what.”

He didn’t look concerned, so I took his lead and passed the time trying to remember names and what kinds of magic the people in the room preferred to use.

The gathered members of the Authority were pretty evenly split between the four disciplines—well, five if you counted the mix of magic and technology my dad had pushed into use.

But watching how they spoke to one another, or more so, how they didn’t speak or look at one another, I could see the tension, the cracks and fractures, between them, divided not by what magic they used but rather by who should use it, and how.

And I found it fascinating—no, frightening—that no one had mentioned that there was the very real possibility that the well was already being affected by the coming storm. The magic in it was being drained—maybe by the storm. Seemed to me that we had two potential disasters on the horizon.

Perhaps that went without saying.

It sucked to be the newest kid in the club. And I hadn’t even earned my decoder ring.

Sedra stood. Everyone watched her, waiting. It wasn’t exactly reverence, but more a shared acknowledgment that she would make the decisions they would all have to live with. For good and bad.

“We will set spells in place to further monitor vital systems and services throughout the city,” she said, her musical voice at contrast with her strict demeanor. “But until the storm hits, we wait.”

You couldn’t have quieted a room faster if you’d shoved a sock in every mouth.

Zayvion looked Zen on the outside, but inside he burned with anger.

“I thought it was agreed we would coordinate our efforts,” he said, his quiet voice filling the room.

“That,” Terric said, “is what I also understood. We would plan for the worst, and meet it head-on. We have time on our side for once. We can plan how to mitigate the magical onslaught.”

With every word Terric spoke, Shamus hunkered into himself, his hands tucked into his pockets, one shoulder hitched as if he could deflect the pain.

Sedra gave both men a cool, emotionless gaze. “Closers,” she said, like it was a dirty word she didn’t want in her mouth, “will need to watch for gates opening, for breaches between life and death. I expect you are willing to do your duty and abide by the wisdom of the Voices of the Authority?”

Voices. She meant the highest-level magic users: Maeve, Victor, Liddy, and Sedra herself. My father too, once, though no one had yet taken his position.

“I will do what is asked of me,” Terric said.

“Zayvion?” she asked. “Will you abide by the wisdom of the Authority?”

Okay, I was starting to dislike her imperious, overly formal, condescending tone. Oh, who was I kidding? I hated the way she high-handed people. I’d watched it over the last couple months. When this woman said jump, everyone asked her when they should come back down.

Yes, she was the head of the Authority. But there was something unrelenting about the woman. As if she had to work hard to cover her hatred for everything and everyone around her. And I knew Zayvion Jones, the gate-guardian-do-my-duty-until-death, would bow to her just like everyone else.

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep the city safe,” Zayvion said.

Well, well. Not exactly a “yes, ma’am.” I wondered whether she would let it pass.

“So let me get this right,” Hayden said. The burly giant was standing by the door, arms crossed over his wide chest. If Zayvion’s voice had been loud, Hayden’s was thunder. “No pre-spells, no triggers, no traps, filters, no backup conduits or overload lines? How exactly are we supposed to keep these places, hospitals, prisons, nursing homes, warded from the effects of the storm?”

Victor nodded. “We’ve decided to approach this with as little magic use as possible because of how powerful the storm appears to be. Too many spells and too many members supporting those spells, managing the pain—even with Proxies—will limit how quickly we can react when the storm hits.”

“The big plan here is to wait and see how bad we’re beat before we start fighting?” Hayden chuckled. “There’s a winning strategy.”

Victor glared at Hayden, but the big man just put his hand out, as if to say it wasn’t his bright idea.

“All considerations have been addressed, Mr. Kellerman,” Victor said. “We work together, as we have worked together in bygone times. If we fight each other, there will be consequences that will benefit none of us.”

“Well, then.” Hayden clapped his hands together and so effectively broke the tension building in the room, I wondered if he’d cast a spell. “Sounds like all that’s left is to gut and clean. What part of town am I covering?”

He strode across the room toward Victor. As he passed, people sort of shook off the intensity of the meeting. Smaller conversations cropped up again, and people stood, stretched. Shame was on his feet, and heading to the lunch counter and bar at the back of the room. I turned to watch him. I wasn’t the only one.

Terric shifted in his chair, and stared at Shame’s back. His expression seemed calm, but the tightness at the edges of his eyes, in the angle of his jaw, spoke of restraint. And desire.

Interesting.

Shame slipped behind the lunch counter and dug around for something. I heard the thick clink of beer bottles; then Shame reappeared, three beers caught in the fingers of one hand, the fourth already pressed to his lips.

He lowered the beer, grinned at me, and then strode over, changing his gaze to meet Terric’s straight on.

Boy didn’t run from trouble. That was sure.

Terric stood and walked over to our table. Looked like he didn’t run from trouble either.

Zay turned to face Shame too. Shame was still grinning. Since I was not about to be the only person sitting if this was going to turn into a brawl, I stood as well.

“Allie.” Shame offered me a beer. “You still owe me.”

I took it even though I didn’t like beer.

“Zay.” Zayvion, behind me, reached over my shoulder and took the beer Shame offered.

“Terric.” Shame extended the last beer to him.

Terric took the beer. “Think you owe me more than a beer, Shamus.”

Shame’s heartbeat rose, but I didn’t think the other men noticed. They weren’t Hounds. They didn’t have to live off instinct and the subtle shifts in the people around them to survive.

“Well, today you’re getting a beer,” Shamus said. He tipped his and gave us all a half nod. “To the hunt. To the kill. Till the world stands still.”

“To the hunt,” Zay and Terric said.

I just raised my beer and took a tiny sip. Nope. Still didn’t like the stuff.

“I heard about Greyson,” Terric said.

Shame nodded. “Have you seen him?”

“I just got in a couple hours ago.”

Shame glanced around the room. “It’s not like they’ll let us out of this, but we’ve got a few minutes. Want to see?”

Zay took another drink of his beer. He wrapped his hand around my hip and hooked his thumb in my front pocket, the heel of his hand pressed against my hip bone. This close, I could feel his worry and anger that did not show through that Zen exterior. I didn’t know exactly what he was angry about.

Terric paused, just a beat too long, before answering. “I’m sure you have somewhere else to be,” he said to Shame. “I know I do.” He took another swig of the beer, looked Shamus right in the eyes. “Thanks for the beer.”

Shame nodded. Looked easy. Casual about the whole thing. But that response was a slap in the face.

Terric turned to me. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to meet you, Ms. Beckstrom. I hope to remedy that in the future.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I said.

Terric made brief eye contact with Zay. Something changed in his expression. Sort of like ice breaking under pressure. He turned back to Shame. “Don’t take me being here as anything other than it is. Authority business.”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Shame said.

“We have an understanding, then?”

“Hatred, with a heaping side of grudge?”

Terric smiled, a fleeting thing that seemed to warm through the ice, flicked to life by Shame’s agreement. “That should cover it. Except for one thing. While I am here, you and I will not get in each other’s way.”

“You know me, Terric. I’d rather be almost anywhere than near you.”

“Shame—,” Zay said.

“No.” Terric held one hand toward Zayvion. Then to Shame, “We stay out of each other’s way. Tell me we’re clear on that.”

“Twenty-twenty,” Shame said.

Terric nodded. “Good. I’ll speak with you soon, Zay, Allie.” He strode off toward the front of the room where people were poring over Victor’s laptop and maps. I realized I’d been holding my fingers spread and ready to cast a spell. I closed my hand and stuck it in my pocket.

“You didn’t have to be an ass,” Zayvion said.

Shame tipped his beer up to his mouth again. Empty.

“You know I love you, Jones,” he said, “but stay the hell out of my business.” He didn’t wait for Zay’s reply. Didn’t have to. He’d known him long enough he could give himself whatever speech Zay had planned.

Shame turned and walked away, to the bar again. He slipped behind it, found another beer, then stormed out the doors there, patting his pockets for a smoke.

Zay leaned into me a little more, or maybe he pulled me back toward him.

“They’ll be okay.” I tried to say it as a statement, but it came out all question.

Probably because Zay’s doubt and concern washed through me. He hurt for Shame like a brother who knew there was nothing he could do to fix the pain Shame had gotten himself into.

“Terric won’t try to hurt him, will he?” I asked. “He’s a good guy, right?”

“We’re all good guys,” Zay said.

Yeah, he believed that as much as I did.

“Zayvion?” Victor was making his way across the room, looking like a man who knew how to wield a sword. And since he was one of my teachers, in magic and in physical defense, I actually knew he could swing a sword. Very well, as a matter of fact.

Zay pulled away so we no longer touched.

I’d never seen Victor looking so ragged. His eyes were bloodshot, and his usually clean-shaven face shadowed a beard.

“I’m going to go over the quadrants and coverage with the Closers now,” he said. “Would you join us, please?”

“What about Chase?” Zay asked.

“She’s here.”

Zay took a second to find her in the crowd. I did too, since I hadn’t seen her earlier. I spotted her walking in through the archway at the front of the room. Beyond that arch was the hall that led to sitting rooms and a stairway to the basement, where her ex-lover Greyson currently resided in a cage. She looked angry, shell-shocked, sick. Like she’d just seen something, or done something, very, very wrong.

Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be doing any better if it were Zay in that cage. Chase was handling this a lot better than I would, even if she hadn’t come to see Greyson before now. And it didn’t take a genius to know she had just come from seeing him.

The woman radiated a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe stronger than any Repel spell she could have cast. It worked like a charm. Everyone steered a wide berth around her and left her alone.

Another person detached from the shadows beyond the archway and walked in behind Chase.

I’d wondered when he was going to show up.

Jingo Jingo was a big man, not like Hayden, who had height to balance out his width. Jingo was just heavy. There was something about him that made him seem even bigger. He had an immensity that took up more room than his bulk justified. He radiated a dark presence as if shadows and other, haunting things clung to him. The light, pouring down from the high rafters, couldn’t clean the room of it.

He bothered me, even when he was laughing like he was everyone’s friend. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t like him.

He rambled over to Chase, right into her leave-me-alone zone.

Fire, meet oil.

I thought for sure Chase would give him hell. But when he neared, she seemed to cool down, her fire snuffed to ash, her anger suffocated, gone dead as he reached out and stroked her arm reassuringly. Her shoulders slumped, her head fell back to rest against the wall behind her, and she closed her eyes. She looked exhausted.

And when he spoke—a low rumble I couldn’t pull into words—she opened her eyes. She looked like a lost child, hopeful, maybe even desperate for his reassurance, his guidance. She did not look like the powerful, angry Closer I knew.

What was he doing to her? What was he telling her? What had they done down there with Greyson?

“Allie?” Zayvion said.

Right. He had been asked to do something. Look over Victor’s plans or something.

“See you soon,” I said.

Zay walked off with Victor, both heading toward Chase.

Even though Jingo Jingo did not turn around, as soon as Victor and Zayvion were on their way toward Chase, he dropped his hand off her arm.

Chase seemed to come to, and get her bitch back on. She scowled at Zay and Victor, and made it clear she didn’t like following them to one side of the room where Terric and a small group of other people—Nik and Joshua and maybe three others, probably all Closers—stood.

Closers. People who could reach into someone’s mind and take away their ability to use magic. People who took away memories.

Maybe I wanted to know what they were talking about. Especially if it had to do with the removal of memories—I had Hounds on the street I needed to look after.

Got halfway across the room too before Shame fell into step with me.

“Don’t know what’s stuck in your craw,” he said, his breath heavy with beer and cigarette smoke and that clove scent that was all his own, “but you got company.”

“What?”

I’d been so focused on studying the faces and body language of the group of Closers at the front of the room, I didn’t notice everyone was looking over at the main door.

And standing in the doorway was someone who most definitely should not be here.

Davy Silvers.