“I like to work for it. Feel a sense of accomplishment. It’s no fun when it comes too easily.”
He pauses. Waits a few beats to see if there’s more. Then, determining it’s just me being weird, he throws his head back and roars.
“You are full of surprises,” he says.
“You have no idea.” I force a grin.
“What happened to your mask?” He casts a critical eye at my face. “You really shouldn’t be walking around like that.” He motions toward my red glowing eyes. “You’re going to scare people. I told Cade to leave you one in your office.” His gaze darkens as he looks around the club for his most disappointing son. Ready to call him out on the grievous offense the second he spots him.
“He left it.” I shrug. “I choose not to wear it.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re a member of Coyote now.” Leandro leans toward me, his voice low and menacing. “It was sealed in the ceremony.”
The ceremony. How could I forget? What may be commonplace dark magick for them was all new to me. Bearing no resemblance to anything Leftfoot ever taught me. And while the beast in me was delighted, it took every ounce of will left over from the old me to keep them from actually killing a real horse to symbolize the death of my former spirit
animal. Which also raised some suspicions.
“I’m much more than Coyote,” I say. “I’m about to surpass every last one of you.”
“That may be true, but there’s still one thing left to do. And until that time comes, don’t you forget I’m the one in charge around here.” The words are as sharp as they’re intended to be.
Still one thing left to do . . .
I close my eyes, lift my chin high, and inhale long and deep. Scenting my brother among the throngs of bodies. He reeks of anger, vengeance, and the endless loop of revenge fantasies he needs to sustain him. But the truth is, he’s pathetic, weak, and sorely lacking the appropriate amount of fear for someone in such a precarious state.
Then again, he has no idea of what’s to become of him.
No idea Leandro has designated him as the one to kill so I can make the transition into my destiny.
“Here.” Leandro removes his mask and thrusts it at me. “I insist that you wear it.”
Knowing better than to protest, which will only serve to arouse his suspicions more than I already have, I snap it onto my head and return my focus to my brother, tracking his every move through the eyes of Coyote.
TWENTY-SIX
DAIRE
With Dace under Leandro’s wing, Lita and Axel talking with Jacy and Crickett, and Xotichl and Auden expected to arrive any moment, I weave through the crowd in search of the vortex. Needing to at least be in the general vicinity long before the Richters can reach it, I retrace the path I memorized the night I broke in. Not entirely sure I’m on the right track since Dace and Leandro’s unexpected arrival kept me from actually locating it.
Still, I’m sure it exists. Portals are contrived of the purest form of energy. They can be blocked, but never destroyed.
All around me, throngs of people continue to gather. Seemingly immune to the lingering vibration of pain and destruction—the evil wrought, the lives lost (including Phyre)—that occurred here through the years.
For me, the sensation weighs heavily. You can level a structure and rebuild from scratch, but the energy of past events never quite dissipates. The essence remains. And the Richters’ use of black onyx ensures those memories are sealed for eternity.
I pause near the spot where Dace found me, and when the tourmaline ring starts to warm, I take it as a sign that I’m either in the presence of the vortex, or that Cade Richter has lured me into his trap.
Figuring it’s a win either way, I move forward. Instantly aware of a shift in the atmosphere, a heightened vibration, I gather my skirts and pick up the pace. Making it only part of the way when I’m stopped by a shaky hand with clammy fingers grabbing hold of my wrist.
Cade.
Cade is here. The vortex is near. Leaving me with no clear idea of just who’s controlling this stone.
He jerks me back against him, nudges his nose into the hollow of my neck, and drags a long, steady breath. “Nothing like the scent of Raven at night,” he says, his voice betraying an uneven pitch. “Though I must say, you do look enchanting.” He twists hard on my arm, turns me to face him. “Still, I can’t help but wonder where you’re headed in such a hurry?”
I wrench free of his grip, put a more comfortable distance between us. Rubbing the place on my wrist where his fingers left marks, I bite back a scowl and force myself to play along. “Where do you think I’m going?”
“I would hope you were looking for me.” He grins in a way that pulls his lips tightly, creases his eyes until they’re just barely visible, and causes his head to jerk to the right. Making him appear manic, more than a little demented, and I’m not sure what to make of it.