Council of Clans.”
“I’ll have to plead guilty,” Davon said, his voice heavy with defeat. “I murdered that kid, no matter what my reasons were. The werewolves want justice, and I have a responsibility to give it to them.”
“Forget that,” Arthur said roughly. “You did what you thought was your duty. I won’t allow the Direkind to execute you because their lunatic wizard is trying to start a war. You’re as much a victim as Cherise and Jimmy Sheridan.”
“But what if they do declare war?” Davon stared at him, dark eyes tormented. “I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.”
“Look, kid, I’m not giving you up to the Direkind, period. You believed you were following my orders.” Arthur demanded loyalty, but he also gave it right back.
“We need to warn the other young Magekind about this.” Morgana leaned back in her seat, frowning as she tapped a long nail on the table’s gleaming surface. “We don’t want any more of them falling into this trap.”
“I’m not sure we can prevent it.” Smoke steepled his fingers and touched them to his lips. “Warlock’s spells are damned powerful, now that he’s absorbed Zephyr’s abilities.”
“The first thing we need to do is stop sending agents from Avalon.” Arthur’s black eyes narrowed. “He’s not snatching the kids through the city wards, is he?”
“He didn’t get past my wards,” Morgana told him flatly. “I would have known.” The city’s most powerful witches had worked for days to cast the magical shield that surrounded Avalon, and Morgana maintained an intense magical awareness of it.
Gwen tapped a pen on the table, frowning thoughtfully. “We need to reinforce the wards anyway, just to be safe.”
Morgana grunted assent. “I’ll summon the others and we’ll start work tomorrow night.” Sunlight interfered with magic, so major sorcery could not be worked during the day.
“In the meantime, we shouldn’t assume the older Magekind will be immune to Warlock’s spells.” Smoke absently traced a glowing pattern in the air like a man doodling on a sheet of paper.
Morgana straightened. “Do you think he’d be able to overwhelm even the most powerful Majae?”
“We have to assume he can,” Belle told her. “Cherise wasn’t a weak witch, and he definitely warped her thinking. She said the Direkind ‘deserved to suffer.’ That’s not the kind of thing she’d think on her own.”
Tristan drew a dagger from his boot and absently tested its edge with his thumb. “He’s probably going to make another attempt to frame us for crimes against the Direkind.”
“That’s going to be a problem, because the Direkind seem to automatically disbelieve anything we say,” Belle added. “And since Merlin created them to destroy us if we ever went rogue . . .”
“. . . We’re fucked,” Tristan finished grimly.
“I sincerely hope not,” Arthur said dryly. “Either way, we’ve got to figure out how to keep any more of our people from falling prey to Warlock.” He toyed absently with Excalibur’s hilt, frowning as he considered the problem. “While still doing our jobs. We can’t protect humanity from behind Avalon’s wards, tempting as it might be to pull our heads in for a while.”
“Double the size of the teams,” Tristan suggested. “Warlock might be able to bespell two people, but four would be harder to handle.”
Morgana nodded. “If nothing else, one of the Maja should be able to gate back and warn us.”
Arthur considered the idea. “That works. It may give us manpower issues and fuck up existing missions, but it can’t be helped. We cannot afford to give that bastard an opening to use any more of our people like this. I’d rather avoid a war with the Direkind.”
“Especially if we’d lose,” Tristan muttered.
FOUR
Warlock clicked through the puddle of blood, watching the surviving bikers writhe in pain. He’d relieved the Demon Brotherhood of an impressive collection of
“I’ll have to plead guilty,” Davon said, his voice heavy with defeat. “I murdered that kid, no matter what my reasons were. The werewolves want justice, and I have a responsibility to give it to them.”
“Forget that,” Arthur said roughly. “You did what you thought was your duty. I won’t allow the Direkind to execute you because their lunatic wizard is trying to start a war. You’re as much a victim as Cherise and Jimmy Sheridan.”
“But what if they do declare war?” Davon stared at him, dark eyes tormented. “I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.”
“Look, kid, I’m not giving you up to the Direkind, period. You believed you were following my orders.” Arthur demanded loyalty, but he also gave it right back.
“We need to warn the other young Magekind about this.” Morgana leaned back in her seat, frowning as she tapped a long nail on the table’s gleaming surface. “We don’t want any more of them falling into this trap.”
“I’m not sure we can prevent it.” Smoke steepled his fingers and touched them to his lips. “Warlock’s spells are damned powerful, now that he’s absorbed Zephyr’s abilities.”
“The first thing we need to do is stop sending agents from Avalon.” Arthur’s black eyes narrowed. “He’s not snatching the kids through the city wards, is he?”
“He didn’t get past my wards,” Morgana told him flatly. “I would have known.” The city’s most powerful witches had worked for days to cast the magical shield that surrounded Avalon, and Morgana maintained an intense magical awareness of it.
Gwen tapped a pen on the table, frowning thoughtfully. “We need to reinforce the wards anyway, just to be safe.”
Morgana grunted assent. “I’ll summon the others and we’ll start work tomorrow night.” Sunlight interfered with magic, so major sorcery could not be worked during the day.
“In the meantime, we shouldn’t assume the older Magekind will be immune to Warlock’s spells.” Smoke absently traced a glowing pattern in the air like a man doodling on a sheet of paper.
Morgana straightened. “Do you think he’d be able to overwhelm even the most powerful Majae?”
“We have to assume he can,” Belle told her. “Cherise wasn’t a weak witch, and he definitely warped her thinking. She said the Direkind ‘deserved to suffer.’ That’s not the kind of thing she’d think on her own.”
Tristan drew a dagger from his boot and absently tested its edge with his thumb. “He’s probably going to make another attempt to frame us for crimes against the Direkind.”
“That’s going to be a problem, because the Direkind seem to automatically disbelieve anything we say,” Belle added. “And since Merlin created them to destroy us if we ever went rogue . . .”
“. . . We’re fucked,” Tristan finished grimly.
“I sincerely hope not,” Arthur said dryly. “Either way, we’ve got to figure out how to keep any more of our people from falling prey to Warlock.” He toyed absently with Excalibur’s hilt, frowning as he considered the problem. “While still doing our jobs. We can’t protect humanity from behind Avalon’s wards, tempting as it might be to pull our heads in for a while.”
“Double the size of the teams,” Tristan suggested. “Warlock might be able to bespell two people, but four would be harder to handle.”
Morgana nodded. “If nothing else, one of the Maja should be able to gate back and warn us.”
Arthur considered the idea. “That works. It may give us manpower issues and fuck up existing missions, but it can’t be helped. We cannot afford to give that bastard an opening to use any more of our people like this. I’d rather avoid a war with the Direkind.”
“Especially if we’d lose,” Tristan muttered.
FOUR
Warlock clicked through the puddle of blood, watching the surviving bikers writhe in pain. He’d relieved the Demon Brotherhood of an impressive collection of
Similar Books
