“I’m not afraid.” She’d been practicing. “Let me go first.”
He started out into the hallway without looking back. “I’m here for a reason, princess.”
He’d failed, a gut-punched feeling. He’d been discovered. There was no good reason for her to keep his secret. She didn’t owe him a damn thing.
How was he—or anyone—to have known how much she was capable of?
Didn’t matter. She knew. He had to think. Now. Of what he could offer to compel her silence.
Problem was, as always, he had nothing but his life and the labor of his hands to his name. And neither was worth this secret when it would give her a chance to strike at Kaye Brand. Never mind that it would also impact Webb . . . and therefore Fletcher.
Cari followed, but she wasn’t about to play the weak woman just because she felt bad about insulting Mason. She was the Dolan, and these Blakes would understand what that meant if they tried anything.
Mason drew a gun from the holster on his right kidney underneath his shirt. The weapon smoked, so she knew he’d tricked it with Shadow, too.
“You can’t get all of them one bullet at a time,” she said.
Maeve, I can’t let any of them touch him.
Is he ours, then? Maeve sounded thrilled.
He’s mine. Cari didn’t trust what Maeve intended to do with or to Mason’s star soul. Mason Stray is mine alone. I want him.
At the top of the stairs, Mason paused. “You’d be surprised how fast things go when you hit the target every time.”
Cari hadn’t the experience with shooting people to argue, so she started down after him. She put a hand on Mason’s shoulder to keep their progress synchronized. Below, the Blake family waited, including what looked like two teenage children. It didn’t take long before the Lures noticed Mason’s weapon.
Takum flicked a hand toward it. “What are you doing?”
Mason descended a few more slow steps. “I’m being careful.”
A Blake woman leaned toward them. “Did you find anything? Could you tell who did this?”
“No,” Cari said. “The investigation is still inconclusive.” She wasn’t going to inform them that she didn’t think a mage was responsible. “But it was very helpful that you kept Lorelei’s body the way it was when she died.”
One of the children, a girl about sixteen, gave a gasp of outrage. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, her voice thick. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to, like, see everything?”
Cari stepped down when Mason did. Soon the Blakes would have to back out of the way, or declare other intentions.
The old man, Takum, growled at the teen. “Shut your mouth, girl.”
The teen rounded on him. “You said the Dolan bitch would know who killed my mom.”
Takum’s eyeballs did a quick swivel to see if the word “bitch” had done any damage. “I said they were trying to find out.”
“You’re a liar!” the girl screamed.
This was familiar to Cari. Stacia and Zel had screamed a lot, too, when they were her age. And this girl had good reason to be upset—Lorelei was her mother. Cari knew exactly how it felt to lose a parent—cold, desolate, isolated.
Mason had halted four steps up from the bottom, probably waiting for them to comfort the girl or take her away to explain that there wouldn’t be any immediate gratification. Some things took time.
But Takum was more direct with his communications. He back-handed the girl with a slap that had the teen whiplashing around, her body flying limply, painfully, to collapse . . . at Mason’s feet.
Cari felt him shudder under her hand.
Could a Lure ensnare a human soul?
Mason answered her question. “If this child does not remove her hand from me, I will damage her.”
The teen immediately cringed. “It didn’t work!”
Takum grabbed one of her legs, which was sprawled near him, and dragged her off the stair. Her head bumped and she screamed again, then scrambled back behind the others, who closed in on Cari and Mason’s progress.
“The Council will never recognize Blake House again,” Cari said. It was a safe bet, though Dolan House was positioned opposite Brand and she had no authority to speak for the High Seat.
The old man gave a yellow smile. “I think our standing with the Council is about to rise.”
A bright crack to Cari’s right signaled gunfire from a Blake, and her sight blackened with Shadow.
Oh, no you don’t. Give me power, Maeve.
Mason turned to fire back, but it seemed he moved in achingly slow motion. Both shots hovered in Shadow air, sparks glinting from their sources. The moment had no beginning or end; it stretched and twisted and Cari understood that time wasn’t as Ordered as she’d thought it was. Time was nothing.
Magic filled her and filled her until there was no room for air in her lungs. Maybe she didn’t need to breathe.
All Shadow is yours. Draw magic into the world as only you can. Darken the sun. Burn the land. Bring the stars blazing down to earth.
Cari snorted. I just want to get out of here.
The Blakes’ house began to rattle. Its loose boards clamored against each other, dark faelight gleaming through the cracks. The place trembled like chattering teeth. A strange sensation of airiness filled the stair area and the rooms within her sight, as if she were freshening it up. The teen was screaming again; if Cari tilted her head this or that way, the sound could be laughter. The other child, the boy, had backed toward the front door to escape. Cari wanted him to run, because then she could pursue.
Mason’s voice cut through her delight. “Back it down, Cari.”
She smiled, feeling glorious. “No. I got this.” It was strange how good it felt. The Blake wards were as weak as old Takum, but being able to overcome them filled her with a snap of pleasure. She could do anything. The world would be hers again.
The Blakes cringed and brought their arms up to shield their heads.
She’d worked for mastery, and all in all, thought she was doing pretty well. Would it kill Mason to acknowledge it?
“Enough,” Mason said.
Seemed it would. Fine. She didn’t want to be here any longer either. Her father had told her only to use what force was actually necessary. Nothing more.
She reached with magic and lifted the Lures off the floor so that their legs dangled in the air. Then shunted them over to the right, against the wall, so that the way to the front door was clear. “After you.”
But Mason foiled her again. He stepped aside so that she could pass and he could bring up the rear—though she’d demonstrated pretty spectacularly that she could take care of herself. She walked down the rattling steps—they didn’t challenge her balance at all—across the main room and out the door. The porch was even more unstable, and she had the odd awareness that in the crawl space beneath, dark things dwelled.
Well, they couldn’t hurt her. And she wouldn’t let them hurt Mason.
Her face warmed in the sun. Really, it was a gorgeous day. The sun had never been so gorgeous. So vivid, a burnished yellow. The great life-giver. Masculine to her ready soil. She wanted to bake under it, naked, let the gold in her blood run hot through her veins.
Take it then, Maeve said. This is ours, too.
Ours. The sun even?
A beat of want sent a tremor through her.
Inside, Mason was instructing the Blakes to release the wards so that they could leave the property. Then he came up behind her and took her arm. “Let’s go.” He led her forcefully to the car. “You can let go of the house now.”