Magic Rising (21 page)

“Do I know any of the other wolves with you?” I asked, switching subjects quickly again. He’d taken pains to ensure his offer was a friendly one, and I appreciated that. I lightly punched his arm. “And that’s for not informing me about your high-ranking status with your kind.”

He pretended to rub his arm. “It’s recent. Besides, we haven’t seen a lot of each other since our little vacation in England.”

“Vacation?”

“Sightseeing, blasting some enemies.” He shrugged, giving me a wolfish smile.

“Remind me never to go on vacation with you.”

“I’m more of a camping and hiking guy anyway.” He turned and rested his elbows on the ledge. His shirt looked expensive and pristine, his bowtie just right. Crescent moons glinted at his cuffs. I kept the smile to myself.
Wolves and their moon fixation.

“The tux suits you. Very handsome.”

“Thank you.”

“So what is your official title now?”

“East Coast Packmaster. I get to do all the fun stuff like liaise and schmooze with the other regions, as well as keep my own region in order. You might be seeing some new wolves in the area.”

“Michelle must be proud.”

“She was.”

“Past tense?”

“We parted ways.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, surprised. It had been little more than a week since I’d seen them together at Annalise and Beau’s housewarming.

Gage shrugged. “It wasn’t going anywhere.”

“How come? She seemed so nice.” She was nice, awfully pretty too. I’d had more than one jealous moment over her before reprimanding myself, since I had no right to feel that way.

“Don’t ask if you don’t want to hear the answer.”

I inhaled deeply and looked away.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Gage continued in a gentler voice. “I just… just don’t ask, okay?”

“Okay.”

We stood silently for a while, enjoying the dusk and the sounds of music that drifted out to us: the tinkle of laughter, and multiple conversations. The air turned cooler and I asked Gage if he wanted his jacket.

“You know we wolves run warm,” he told me, refusing my offer.

“What events are you going to?” I asked him, steering the conversation back to safer grounds. “Or is it just the election?”

“The election is the only important one left now. Other than that, we’ll be paying visits to all the nominees, including Etoile.”

“Etoile mentioned that, but she didn’t say why. She’s been so busy.”

“There used to be a time when all the races worked independently of each other. You can imagine the problems that caused, especially if another race trespassed on our turf, and vice versa. Then we got organised and started to unionise, if you like. We’ve worked together loosely for a few decades now, but now we need to make our integration more complete.” Gage paused, glanced at me, smiled, returning his gaze to the city. “We’re going to talk treaties and professional courtesy, among other things with the candidates.”

“Sounds practical.”

“Maybe. Depends on what each race wants, what the candidates have planned, and what we can acquiesce to. We’ve heard rumours that a High Council is in the offing.”

I processed that. “Like a governing body? For all of us?”

Gage nodded.

“I’m not sure we can govern
ourselves,
” I said frankly. “Never mind anyone else.”

“The plan is for each race to send its nominee to the High Council, whose rule will preside over us all. Secrets get leaked too easily. The only way we can survive is if we work together.”

“Against or in spite of humans?”

“Neither. Just away from, or when the time comes, in aid of. Like…”

“The UN on steroids?” I supplied helpfully.

Gage grinned and shook his head. “More like a lobbying group.”

“Is all this stuff common knowledge?” I asked.

“No. I’m telling you because you’re my friend,” Gage said simply. “And because whether you like it or not, you’re involved. Do you know that your position in our world is very clear?”

I recalled Hunter’s comments about the way the other demons had reacted to me with mild curiosity. “Tell me,” I said, intrigued to see how a non-witch viewed me.

“Etoile has made it very clear that you’re a part of her entourage,” Gage began. “You’re a friend of my pack and that gives you status. Your lover is a daemon, and I’ll bet that he is keeping you safe somehow.”

“There’s a registry,” I told him, keeping the part about the ring to myself. “Evan says it’s a master list of those who are protected. I’m on it.”

Gage gave me “there you have it” raised eyebrows. He continued, “Any one of these honours, is not so interesting by itself, but add all three and you’ve got someone who becomes fascinating to the other races. Then there’s the witch hunters, and Eleanor, and how she died. Did it occur to you that you brought down the Council that day? And you, just a brand new witch without fully evolved powers at the time. At least that’s what I heard and what you’ve confirmed. To some extent, all this is because of you and they—” he jabbed a finger to the ballroom, “—want to know what makes you so appealing.” This time, when Gage pushed himself off the balcony wall and straightened up, he faced me. “Evan is right to have Micah guard you and I’ll bet the only reason Micah isn’t glued to you right now, is because he knows you’re safe with me. Etoile may have been targeted, but don’t assume that you might not be also.”

“I think I need another drink.”

Gage laughed. “Yeah. All this will do that to you. Listen, it’s getting cold up here, even for me. I need to catch up to my party, and Micah’s probably had enough waiting for you. Yeah, I saw him already. Shall we head inside?”

“Sure.”

A pair of laughing witches, a man and a woman, spilled through the terrace doors a moment later, apologising profusely for almost colliding with us. I handed Gage’s jacket back to him as we reentered. After he shrugged it on and left, offering me a brilliant smile and friendly wave, I realised I’d forgotten all about the talisman and hadn’t told him what I’d found out.

TWELVE

I caught up with Etoile at the cloakroom an hour after Gage’s and my discussion. Both he and Hunter, along with Etoile‘s nomination, had given me a lot to think about. Who or what wanted to sabotage the Summit so badly? Once again, I felt like I was swimming underwater, the life-raft too far away for me to reach.

Micah was still at my side, as he had been the moment I stepped inside from the terrace. Since then, I hadn’t caught sight of Gage. Micah was frustrating me by giving me one-word answers. I wasn’t sure how to apologise, only I knew that I should. It seemed I’d hurt his feelings earlier. That said, he’d probably give me the same reaction if I’d literally bitten his ear off. It was hard to tell what made a demon cross or the depths of their annoyance.

“It’s late,” said Etoile. “Let’s head down to the lobby and shimmer from there.”

Magic still hung in the air. I could feel it. The ballroom tonight was a neutral zone, something I assumed must have been agreed upon in advance. For one thing, I thought it was a good idea. Otherwise, who knew what would happen if the witches used their magic? Or if the wolves and shapeshifters switched shapes, the demons went crazy, and the vampires… the vampires would probably enjoy a healthy snack. Second, I had to assume that if the races could all agree on something, perhaps there was some hope for a permanent union.

I looked at the long line already forming by the coat check. “I’ll grab my coat.” Micah bumped my arm. “Apparently, I have my coat,” I said, taking it from him. I noticed he had already pulled on a knee-length coat in black wool. “Did you queue already?”

“No. I just walked in and took it,” Micah replied without an ounce of sarcasm. I didn’t doubt him.

“Okay then. I’m good to go.”

We shared the elevator with a warlock, a vampire, and two shifters, though I couldn’t tell their species of choice or design. Micah and I stood side-by-side, me, feeling awkward; him… I chanced a glance. He looked bored. Typical. At the back, Etoile was speaking quietly to a man, whom she seemed to know, though I hadn’t taken a good look at him as I was scrabbling in my purse for my phone — blank screen again — as we entered. When we spilled out, Micah and I exited first, standing to one side, allowing the others to pass while we waited for Etoile. The man smiled pleasantly at me, nodded to Micah, and stepped past us.

A split second later, Micah had me on the floor, his body curled over mine. “What the hell?” I growled through clenched teeth as he pressed down on me.

“Stay down,” he hissed, holding me in place while he moved in a half twist. Nearby, someone was groaning, and I could hear heavy footsteps running towards us.

“Etoile?” I raised my voice in panic. “Etoile?”

“Here,” came her weary voice. “I’m fine. You?”

“Fine. Micah, get off me.” I gave him a gentle shove. “What happened?”

Micah moved and I pushed upwards into a seated position as I unwrapped the skirt from my ankles. The warlock Etoile was speaking to now lay on his back, one hand clutched to his side, his fingers red. He gasped for breath, his face pale. Etoile crouched next to him and was stemming the flow of blood by pressing the heel of her hand over the wound. After a moment, I wondered why she didn’t heal him there and then. I decided it was because there were too many humans present with the downstairs lobby open to all. Several businesses, including a restaurant and a bar were still open. Only the floors above the tenth were sealed off for our use. The security guards, and some onlookers, all appeared human. Someone called for first aid. Maybe an ambulance. The vampire disappeared, but the shapeshifters remained. I saw one of them sniff the air and look around.

Micah refused to budge and I had to crane my head around him as he slowly surveyed the room. “Is he okay?” I asked. “Is that Matthew Donovan?” I finally took a good look at the warlock.

“Yes. It’s nothing.” As Etoile spoke the words, I felt the force of her Influence drift through the lobby. The magic was thick and strong. As it reached the bystanders, they blinked and seemed to look at their hands or each other and wonder what they were doing. After a minute or two, they all drifted away.

“Help me get him to the elevator,” said Etoile.

“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance, miss?” asked one of the security guards crouched beside her. I’d been mistaken. He was a shapeshifter too, and seemed impervious to her magic. It stood to reason that the Council had supernaturals in their employ downstairs, as well as on the reserved floors above. His colleague, however, was human, though a strong-minded one.

“It’s nothing,” said Etoile again, placing her non-bloodied hand on his colleague as he kneeled to assist her. His eyes glazed. “Just a nasty fall. We’ll head back upstairs, out of the way. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“Uh, yes… miss,” he stammered. The confusion on his face dissipated as he got to his feet. “I think I’ll get a ‘wet floor’ sign,” he said to no one in particular before strolling away.

Etoile nodded to the shapeshifter guard and he returned the gesture as he adjusted his tie. “You sure you’re good to go?” he asked, placing one hand against the recess of the elevator doors, ensuring they remained open.

“Yes. I’ll heal him upstairs,” said Etoile. One of the shapeshifters stooped to help her get the warlock to his feet, and the few of us returned to the elevator. “You don’t need to stay, but thanks for your help. Could you wait with the guard?” Etoile told the shifters and they stepped out, relieved expressions on their faces as they moved to their kin. “Hit ten, Stella. We’ll find somewhere for him to lie down. I don’t think it’s too deep.” Beside her, Matthew groaned as he rolled his eyes. When the doors shut, Etoile placed her hands on him.

“Did you see them, Micah?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I felt something right before the shot. An intention. I shoved them and got you.”

Donovan rested bodily against the frame of the elevator, his pallor taking on the pale grey look Etoile had when she was injured. Despite his brave face, he lost a lot of blood, and his suit was covered in it. How he remained conscious, I didn’t know, but I suspected it was through pure force of will. “You have my thanks. You probably saved us. All of us,” he added, his eyes moving from Micah to me.

Micah shrugged.

Due to all the events that happened, I immediately leaped to the conclusion that either Etoile or I were being targeted; but now, with Matthew’s injury, it all seemed unclear, which was most unsettling. I slid my hand into Micah’s, giving his a quick squeeze. “Thanks,” I whispered.

“I don’t dare think what Evan might do to me if you were hurt on my watch,” he murmured.

“All the same,” I replied, “if anyone else gets shot, I’m going home.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “You really are no fun.”

“I’m a whole bunch of fun,” I argued. “Every time I see you, there’s trouble. One of these days, I’ll probably have to save your ass.”

“I doubt that.”

The tenth floor, like all the floors above, was strictly off limits to the humans who occupied the floors below, and the elevator opened onto a lobby with its own reception desk. Etoile approached, speaking hurriedly to the receptionist as we hung back. She returned with a key. Micah and I trailed behind the others as they limped forwards. In the room, Etoile examined the wound again. It had sliced right through his side, thankfully, not hitting anything serious, which probably explained why he remained conscious. It had already begun to heal from Etoile‘s ministrations in the elevator. Just like Etoile appeared sick and wan after her gunshot, so did this man.

“We should alert the Council,” he said, easing onto the bed.

“Already done. Someone will be here momentarily,” Etoile told him. “I’ve asked them to locate your wife too.”

“First you, then me,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “This doesn’t look good. The candidates… Are we all in danger?”

After a moment, Etoile agreed. Laying her hands on him, she casually spoke to him until he slumped into unconsciousness in her hands. She deposited the bloody bullet on the nightstand and reexamined the wound, apparently satisfied it was properly closed.