She played along though, describing her wounds, and then tapped her cane on the floor three times. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d started that, but doing things in threes had become second nature.

  “If the extent of your injuries is to be believed, how is it you’re standing?” Gerard nearly scoffed.

  Genevieve interrupted, “You dare accuse a guest I’ve brought with me of deception? Are you addled? She is standing because she’s a Vessel to a goddess and mated to a Scion. Do you realize the sheer level of power she possesses to be as recovered as she is right now? If not, you are every inch the fool she’s got to believe you are.”

  Aw. Rowan didn’t say anything or even make any outward indication of her feelings, but it was rather nice to be defended that way.

  But Genevieve wasn’t done. “Did you know Sergio and Hugo had contracted with the Shanks to do this deed? Do not lie to me.”

  Fiona gave a frustrated growl. “Why on Earth would we have known? We’ve done business with the Procellas, as we’ve said, but that doesn’t mean they’d take us into their confidence for whatever it was they were thinking to do. I suppose in some way it’s a shame they’re all dead—except Bess and Hugo—given what they’ve done.”

  “Hey, before Genevieve says anything else, let me ask you something. Earlier when you were talking about your dealings with the Procellas to use their cargo space, you said they were the connection between us. If the Procellas were a middleman, so to speak, who’s the other party?”

  Sweat broke out on Fiona’s forehead. Huh.

  “I misspoke. I meant when they might be contracted on a ship versus it being their ship.”

  Rowan cocked her head. “Did you though? Because what it sounded like was Sergio or Alfonso or whatever hooked you up with another party to move some cargo.”

  Like perhaps the Procellas were a needed ingredient so they had to deal with them to get connected with some other party. Which would explain why anyone would tolerate them longer than five minutes.

  But now they scrambled to protect this other party, which told Rowan that was who she needed to identify.

  Neither answered. They most likely knew if they lied it would make things worse so they avoided speaking at all. Rowan had been in their place a time or two, but never because she was a murderous asshole.

  “Oh, and one last thing,” Genevieve said. “The Procellas—all of them—are alive. They were not in the mansion when the mage firebomb hit it.”

  “Mage fire?” Fiona said. She was going for shocked to hear it, but missed that by a mile.

  “Can’t hire out to wolf shifters for that. No, this was an all-witch-type situation. Interesting, right?” Rowan said with a fake smile.

  “I’m certain that can’t be. Perhaps it was one of those sorcerers. You said some might have escaped,” Gerard said of the conspiracy between those in the magical community and some shithead Vampires. Many had suffered. Many still did. Rowan thought back to two weeks before and the little house in Long Beach they’d looked at where three young people, two of them witches, had lived before they’d disappeared.

  “Borrowed or stolen magic can’t make mage fire. A Genetic witch makes mage fire. You know that as well as I do,” Genevieve said.

  “How do you know? There are human accelerants that can do that type of damage.”

  How was it they believed Genevieve wouldn’t have gone to get magical signatures from the scene? Signatures that led them right here to these witches.

  Genevieve chuckled and the menace in the sound sent goose bumps racing over Rowan’s arms. “First be glad the human authorities are as clueless as you assume I am. I was at the scene. So was Rowan. I guess we forgot to mention that part. It’s a good thing we all possess a great deal of protective magics of our own. I cannot imagine how the Dust Devils would have responded should I have died. Why, whoever was behind it may as well have walked into a volcano because they’d have been hunted down and executed.”

  “We will still do that,” Darius said in a rumble. Within that rumble were sharp edges and heavy stones. “Our priestess was in that home. And more than one other who was under our protection.”

  “So you see,” Genevieve said, “it’s important we get answers so we can meet this threat. Because that’s assuredly what this is.” As she spoke, the energy in the air seemed to build. “Once again it is our own who are responsible for this sort of deranged violence. We, who pledge to always be shelter to one another against the outside world, are proving to be our own worst enemy. We are Conclave. We have existed for thousands of years, and we will continue to do so. We will find out what is happening, and it will be dealt with. Should you decide to remember anything useful regarding your business with the Procellas, contact my office immediately.”

  They got up as one and headed out to the front entry.

  “I know you are withholding information,” Genevieve said. “You are playing a very dangerous game. One I’ve played for centuries longer than you have. Come to your senses before it’s too late. Don’t leave the city.”

  They left while the Clares still made excuses.

  “I managed to get into their home Wi-Fi network and Vanessa piggybacked into their system. She’s making a clone as we speak,” David said. “I’ll get everything shared with the Conclave as well once we begin to get data.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rowan awoke at roughly nine the next morning feeling better than she had since she’d been ambushed.

  She’d flown down to Southern California, ruffled a lot of feathers, found some important connections, and had come home where her delightful husband had talked her into taking some of his blood. Naturally that’d led to some intense sexytimes where she had to do little more than lie back and let her man do his thing to all her parts.

  It didn’t suck, that was for certain, having someone care that way for her. Even when he was bossy and nosy.

  She told Star, “I’m going for a walk. If you want to join me, now’s your chance.”

  Star hopped up and did a little tippy-tap dance on her way to the door.

  Rowan wasn’t a huge fan of running. Or exercise in general. But she needed to do it. To regain the strength she’d lost after the ambush, and to keep sharp. One never knew when a mage firebomb would be set off, so it paid to be at a state of readiness.

  It kept her alive.

  Used to be, she exercised like she ate and slept. Purely to survive. Now she had reasons to take the time to enjoy a good meal with people she enjoyed and trusted. She slept in a bed her Vampire husband had bought her as a gift. Lived in a house he gave her.

  Such a different—and better—life than she’d had before.

  Today she opted for a brisk walk at a park a few miles from the house. The mountains stood tall and imposing all around her as the two of them began. They gave off magical energy the Devils and witches in the area seemed to gobble up. The sky above was that impossible blue of autumn.

  There were a million things she needed to do, but mainly she was doing them all. The issue was nothing seemed a direct path. In the past two years, each time she’d thought herself at the end of a conspiracy of some sort, there’d be something worse behind the next door. Another layer of complication. She and her friends had been across the globe multiple times, getting the shit kicked out of them, fighting back the chaos eventually to fight another day.

  So many next days.

  There’d been the Blood Front. Which had flowed into the sorcerers who’d been working with a faery who’d been banished to this world from his. Witches had joined in and now there were werewolves?

  Good goddess what a fucking mess.

  “They could all live excellent lives without any of this murderous behavior,” Rowan told Star. She’d left the leg brace behind, and they’d started walking slow and steady. Why not bounce some ideas off Star while she was at it? “These Blood Front Vamps. The ones still alive. They could be Vampires in this world. They’re already moneyed and entitled! But noooo, they have to start new clubs every ten minutes. Human-hating clubs. They could have bocce ball clubs, or book clubs. Instead they have Sanguis Principatus—because of course it has to be in Latin. Though honestly the Brotherhood sounds racist as fuck, so I get the rebrand. And these fucko witches are up to some shady shit. For what? They could just be fabulously rich and paranormally powerful. That’s a pretty fucking nice life. One I’d get if they’d just stop being assholes.”

  Star barked her agreement.

  “So right now, I’ve got these Sanguis Vamps. And, the Vampire lord dinguses in Theo’s dungeon. Doubt that’s connected. But they’re both Vampire related. Add the witches. And because of the witches, murder shifters. What a fuckin’ motley band of scumbags. I’d very much like to have most of this in hand before we have to leave for the Joint Tribunal.”

  The gentle incline on the path gave way to something more challenging. Rowan kept herself aware of the strain on her healing muscles, but so far, she’d remained limber and strong.

  “I do like to think your being here with me means we’ll all survive. So you know, silver linings and all that.”

  Rowan threw the stick Star brought her, content to watch as the dog retrieved it, brought it back to her so she could toss it again and run after it. Over and over for the next forty five minutes or so until they got back to the car.

  “If it’s ever a choice between me and him,” Rowan said quietly to Star, meaning Clive, “make it him.”

  Star snorted, getting dog snot all over Rowan’s forearm.

  “What was that for? Ew!” She used the sleeve of the light zip-up jacket she’d brought along to wipe it off.

  Star growled, not something she’d ever done to Rowan. Others, yes.

  “Lady, ma’am, would you like to explain just what it is you’re doing?” Rowan asked her.

  Star snorted again and then turned in a neat little circle and gave Rowan her behind. The silent treatment.

  “I still want you to save him if it comes to a situation when it’s him or me,” Rowan said as they drove back toward home.

  Then Star farted the grossest, most horrifying wet dog food stench. Rowan had to roll the windows down, laughing at how petty her dog was.

  Star jumped from the car when they got back home, trotting to the door and waiting for Rowan at the base of the steps leading to the main entry from the garage.

  “I’m leaving the windows down because that was so awful,” she said.

  Star yapped and ran inside, tail wagging, smile on her face.

  After a shower and some breakfast, she and David headed to the motherhouse where Rowan was about to have a call with Theo.

  * * *

  He looked healthy. Rested. Part of that nervousness that always rose before she could see with her own senses just what state he was in relaxed. His gaze was clear.

  But he was pissed. She could see the lines next to his mouth as he gave her a long look via their video connection. That day—night where he was—he lounged in a wine-colored chair that complemented the navy sweater and gray trousers. His silver, waist-length hair had been caught away from his face.

  Intense. Angry. But sane. She could handle that.

  “Petal, I do not much care for yet more news of your involvement with a violent event.”

  Not like she much cared for it either.

  “I am well,” she said. Rowan found with him it was best to lead with a reminder that she was alive and fine. That way he couldn’t derail. “I’m out of a cast now. I have a brace and a cane. You’ll be pleased to know the cane makes an excellent weapon. I broke several very expensive pieces of art with it just last night.”

  He laughed then with a clap of his hands. “Tell me about it! Who did you do this to? Not my Scion, Petal?”

  “No, no. Our home is filled with lovely things I would never be so careless with.” She told him a very edited version of the situation the evening before at the Sansbury house.

  “And you believe these witches are responsible for this spell that could have killed you?” The menace in his tone sent chills racing over her skin.

  “A witch helped keep me safe, vater.” She reminded them both who he was. The last thing Rowan wanted was Theo deciding to go starting a war with the Conclave over this. “The majority of witches are no more responsible for what a few of their number did than all Vampires are responsible for the things the Blood Front and this Sanguis thingy do.”

  “And what of the witches who tried to have you killed?”

  “Oh, they’re totally responsible. And they will pay. I’ll see to it myself.”

  He examined her features carefully for long moments and then nodded. Accepting her assurance.

  “If you need anything you will seek it from my Scion or my Voice. If I am sleeping, you will contact the daytime staff. I will not hear no to this,” he said finally.

  “As you wish. If you are feeling magnanimous,” she began carefully, “some information from the First regarding Sanguis Principatus would be quite useful.”

  He wanted to play a game. She saw that in his smile.

  It amused him to make her win the information. Normally, Rowan would go through it, giving him what he demanded. But she was tired. It shouldn’t be some sort of complicated dance every time she needed information to keep herself alive!

  There was no use complaining. What would that change? This was their world and though his methods had been—and remained—unacceptable, there was no denying they’d hardened her enough to survive.

  Love was...complicated.

  “And why should I assist the Hunter Corporation?”

  Because your Vampires have spent the last several years trying to kill me at every turn. You claim to be concerned for my well-being but you allow these murderers access to the process.

  She settled on, “Because you are the First. These creatures are ultimately your responsibility.”

  “My Voice his informed me it is in our best interests to share information with you regarding these fools,” he admitted. He’d wanted her to dance to entertain him even though he’d already given permission?

  In anyone else, Rowan would have delivered a response so blistering her victim would ache for weeks to come.

  But Theo was not anyone else and Rowan knew that.

  She inclined her chin slightly in appreciation.

  “They are a different sort of threat than the Blood Front, but it is the same direction. There are times, Petal, when it is best to let boys break their toys, grumble, and plot because it lets them release their negative emotions. Mostly they never get past the talking stage. These Sanguis Vampires like coin.”

  “And blood?”

  His lips curved into a smile that was more frightening than amusing. “Blood is coin in our world, Rowan. You know this better than most. They have, for the most part, remained out of our notice. Small transgressions are not worth my energy. Them trying to harm you? Well, that is worth notice.”

  She thought so too. But as with everything else, it was the why.

  Then he said, “Planning for Yule and New Year has begun in earnest,” reminding her of the deal she’d made just a few months prior. She’d done it to save Clive’s life. Clive’s family line, who’d always been loyal to the Nation with the exception of two who’d been handled by her spouse and father-in-law. She’d had to go to her foster father and do some bargaining, giving him what he wanted most, her presence at his Keep as his daughter.

  She’d be paraded around. She’d have to wear ridiculous clothing and jewels and it would be horrible. However, Clive and House Stewart would continue to rise in stature. That mattered to her most.

  Plus, though he sweetly pretended not to, being the son-in-law of the most powerful being in the Vampire world and having ten days of parties celebrating them both thrilled him and his family. They should fear it. Theo noticing you wasn’t a good thing always. It was best, she’d realized early on, when he forgot about you.

  But if she could protect them all, she would. And though she’d hesitate before admitting it out loud to anyone but Clive, Rowan loved Theo.

  So. They’d attend fetes and dinners. They’d light candles and go ice-skating on the pond at the Keep. She’d be transported to a place where the modern world wasn’t absent as much as the past dominated.

  Electricity and running—hot—water, yes, thank goodness. But there were also times when it felt like she’d walked into the pages of a historical novel set in myriad times from before the current era to modern-day touches.

  The man still liked a horse-drawn carriage, but instead of heated bricks, his modern conveyance had interior heating.

  “I will have cook, who is doing most of the planning, connect with your young valet. He holds the keys to your kingdom, I’ve discovered.”

  Cook had a name. Dina. She was lovely and undoubtedly had three-quarters of the staff already at work on whatever ridiculous display Theo had in mind.

  “David controls something far more important than my kingdom, he is the keeper of my schedule. He does a fine job.”

  “He has grown into it from what I have been told and have observed. The first meeting he wanted to run screaming from the room.” Theo chuckled.

  “But he didn’t. He was barely twenty-three years old when he was confronted by the first Vampire to exist and he stood his ground. For me. He is my protected.” She wanted to reiterate that. It wasn’t so much that she thought Theo was going to hunt David down to execute him. But he got jealous from time to time. He lost...sight of himself and his responsibilities sometimes and in those moments he was more dangerous than anything she’d ever been confronted by.

  If such a time popped up, she wanted, somewhere in the back of his mind at the very least, him to know there were lines that if he crossed, things between them would be broken forever.