Once Clive had given her the thumbs-up on Aron, she’d sent her new Vampire Hunter home for the night. She’d promised dirty sexual favors—the best kind—to her spouse in payment for his services, and he’d gone back to his office.

  Quickly, while it was still dark at the Keep, Rowan created a script about hiring Aron and sent it off to Nadir’s office.

  Chapter Eight

  Rowan sat up from a deep sleep at the sound of a knock on her door. “Yes?” she called out.

  Elisabeth came in, holding a tray, David at her back, a smile on his face.

  Rowan wanted to say something, but every part of her that had been conscious snapped off at the same time, yanking her back into a sleep that did not want to let go.

  Sensation seemed to slowly resettle as her consciousness sharpened, burning off that depth of sleep Rowan had come to associate with prophecy dreams.

  She floated until the scent of book leather and expensive whiskey wrapped around her attention and tugged.

  When her eyes opened, she met those of her expensive Vampire whose power smelled of smoke and peat.

  “There’s a new smell,” she muttered, willing herself to focus on him. “Is it dark? How long was I out? Shouldn’t you be at daytime rest?” Star had draped herself over Rowan’s thighs and she moved to the side, but didn’t leave the bed, keeping contact with Rowan’s body.

  “That is a great many questions for someone who passed out,” he said. “The sun has only just set.” He kissed her forehead and then her mouth as she tipped her face up. “David said you had work all morning long. You were supposed to brunch with Genevieve but that got rescheduled. You and David had lunch and then you came in to take a nap. Told him you had a headache.”

  Rowan touched her temple. Yes. It was coming back now. When she’d woken up first thing, Genevieve had canceled due to Conclave business. So Rowan had worked on a proposal for the Joint Tribunal and made several calls to the evening side of the world where Vampires were awake.

  She’d decided to lie down awhile before Genevieve was due to come over for tea and gossip. Her head had throbbed, the pain of it had sapped her energy, and finally she’d given in and come into her bedroom to see if she could sleep it away.

  Clive continued to examine her features carefully. “That was just two hours ago. The sun went down about forty-five minutes past, and I’ve been here since trying to get your lazy rear end to wake up. I’ve answered your questions. My turn now,” he said as he helped her to sit with the pillows fluffed at her back. Hating so much that she’d worried him yet again, Rowan didn’t insult him by pretending away or calling out the anxiety wafting from him. Instead, she took one of his hands and kissed it in thanks for being there.

  “What new smell do you mean?” he asked while she was still loopy with loving him.

  “I think perhaps it’s more that I can detect it now, rather than being new.” She tested the words and they felt right.

  Rowan thanked him when he handed her a mug but she didn’t sip right away. He gave her a severe look. “Don’t be suspicious. David did whatever it is you do to take a perfectly lovely coffee and ruin it with heaps of sugar and cream.”

  Pleased by the sight of her viciously handsome Vampire, she leaned in to sniff the steam. It was still warm, so she didn’t waste time, taking several sips while waking up bit by bit while considering his question about the scent. It kept her from panicking about the way she’d just...passed out, powerless over the dream.

  “You all have unique power and scent signatures. For some time, I’ve been able to scent ancient Vampires,” she admitted. They smelled of almonds and being able to detect it was something about half the population could do though most of them didn’t pay any attention. If they were very lucky, they’d never have to.

  She hadn’t been so lucky. She’d learned early on to use all her senses when surrounded by predators. Which was why she’d managed to stay alive despite the life she led.

  Rowan continued, “The last two years or so I’ve been able to detect some Vampires at the very edge of a thousand or so. They’re a little more bitter. Like the charcoal after a fire in a firepit. But those scents are about age. You. Well, you smell like money and power. I don’t think other Vampires your age all carry that scent.” She considered. “Your father. Yes. I noticed it but figured it was his den or study or whatever his man room of business and expensive liquor is called.”

  His exasperated smile was affectionate.

  And he didn’t deny what she’d said. Huh.

  “So a Stewart-line type thing and each of you has your own spin on the original.” Rowan stretched up to sniff him and then pressed a kiss to his throat before settling back against the pillows. “Can you smell each other? How come I didn’t know about this until right now? Why didn’t Theo tell me? Or someone?” Maybe in Hunter Corp. data there was something about individual-family-line Vampire scents and she’d just never seen it. Maybe Theo would have told her if she hadn’t run away at sixteen.

  “Isn’t this fun?” Clive said but clearly, he was being sarcastic, so she made a face.

  “I’m very fun. A fun factory.” She gave him the finger.

  “There’s my wife,” he murmured, and she pretended not to hear the relief in his tone. “Rowan, what happened?” he asked softly before kissing her forehead.

  “Lots going on right now. I had this...knowing thing yesterday as you know. Then there were interviews and weird stuff going on with the witches. Genevieve was going to tell me some more about that and I was going to tell her about the knowing thing so I guess I can add this dream too. Anyway. I don’t know just yet what it means. Just that it’s got to be connected somehow to something or other that’s in my way.”

  “My greatest concern is that according to David and Elisabeth you seem to have been pulled back into this dream involuntarily. And for you not to remember the hours before you went to nap...you have a very sharp memory, darling Hunter.”

  “I remembered after you told me. I don’t think the dream itself was a cause of my memory loss. My system was out of balance, and it took me a bit to find my way back to consciousness. But, in honesty, no, I’ve never been pulled back into a dream like I was today. Not that I’ve had a lot of practice yet, this is a relatively new development slash gift from Brigid. I think the knock on the door pulled me from the dream, but the dream wasn’t done. That’s the best way I can put how it felt.”

  “Tell me, then, about the dream.”

  Genevieve had given Rowan some basic lessons on how to center herself to open her magic. Her magic was where the dreams came from because her magic came from Brigid.

  She set the mug aside and controlled her breathing, creating a focus that unlocked her memory of the dream. It was too much, and her lungs seemed to seize up, refusing to work, refusing to expand. The deluge of images threatened to drown her all while she was unable to draw breath.

  Pins and needles began to prickle across her chest and her vision blurred at the edges.

  But she was forged of stronger stuff, and long-learned patience and courage clicked into place. Rowan remembered herself. Remembered she was in her home, her husband within arm’s reach. These were images she was meant to have. Meant to interpret somehow and they were not supposed to harm her.

  Warmth pooled in her belly and Rowan let the panic go. Truly opened herself to whatever energy it was that was the conduit for the dreams. She found a way to take the raw power of it and create images that made sense to her brain.

  The first few times were too fast, leaving her nauseous and dizzy. But each time she got a better grasp and after a bit, she figured a way to rewind and slow the images down.

  Words rose to her lips after she swallowed back the need to throw up. “Poker chips and a building wave. High winds. A storm. Houses on a shoreline,” she said, and he handed her the notebook she kept in the top drawer of her nightstand so she could write it all down.

  “Do you know what any of it means?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her face. He was about two minutes away from ordering her to eat something. She could see it building in the tension of his shoulders.

  “Not yet. I’ll have David get with Vanessa to start running some searches with those keywords. I don’t think it’ll be literal, that’s too easy and straightforward.” Rowan was still learning the prophecy stuff. It started off confusing but eventually she figured it out before it was too late.

  She wanted to improve, figure things out before the very last minute when it was life-and-death. She’d consult every source possible and see what shook loose.

  “I do think the storm imagery is about trouble coming. But we knew that. I’ll also see if Genevieve might have any ideas. She has such a deep knowledge of so many types of magical traditions, something that seems like one thing might easily be something totally opposite.”

  “Perfect. As she’s here, set up at our dining room table watching movies on her laptop with David as they waited for you to wake up. Once at the table, you can eat something.”

  Not even two minutes.

  She got out of bed and after a quick brush of her teeth and a tidied braid of her hair, she headed out to see her friends and devour a large plate of whatever wonderfulness Elisabeth had created.

  Genevieve gave Rowan a careful look before closing the computer and setting it aside.

  Elisabeth pointed to a chair, which Clive held out for her. So many people bossing her about. She must be still recovering from that dream because normally all that being told what to do would make her want to punch someone. Mainly she wanted food.

  Elisabeth warned, “Before you overwhelm Rowan with all your questions, let her get some food into herself.” A plate was slid in front of her. “Pork with mushrooms and roasted vegetables.”

  “Damn right it is,” Rowan said as she happily tucked in. A tall glass of water was placed nearby, along with a basket of warm bread. “This is amazing.”

  Beaming, Elisabeth made a shooing motion at the others to eat as well. Star yipped and trotted over to her bowls to scarf down whatever her dinner was.

  “They don’t get pork and mushrooms? What did they do to you?” Rowan teased Elisabeth.

  “We ate while you took your sweet time sleeping the day away,” Genevieve said. “Though it would be terribly rude of me not to have some bread.” She took a bite and made a sigh of pleasure. “Now, it’s time to overwhelm you with questions, Rowan. What happened?”

  “I meant to tell you about this over brunch today,” Rowan admitted. She didn’t want Genevieve to think she’d been hiding something from her, or worse, that she didn’t trust her friend. That Genevieve’s pretty features seemed to ease made Rowan glad she’d said it.

  Once she’d explained the knowing she’d had that was somehow connected to Aron and most likely Elmer Marsc, Rowan gave them the basics of her dream.

  Genevieve cocked her head. “Darius mentioned a coming storm only the day before yesterday. Not a direct warning to you or I would have shared. I’m not sure what the rules are when it comes to you and things outside the Trick.”

  Rowan blamed being hungry when she sought to reassure Genevieve, but really it was that part of her that was also growing, that need to protect and console that always seemed to burn bright exactly when it was needed. So much was changing in the witch’s life. So many allegiances and loyalties to weigh. Her friend must be so alone in ways most would never see much less understand. But Rowan did. “This priestess thing is new and you’re trying to find your place within the Trick and that whole world. It’s necessary for you to consider whatever you share and with whom. I trust you, Genevieve, to tell me if I need to know.”

  Genevieve nodded once and then smiled briefly. “That you dreamed of a storm as well just two days later isn’t a coincidence. And isn’t that fascinating?”

  It certainly was. Did the Devils have a gift of prophecy or was Darius one of those handful of Dust Devils with magic? Already the fear about the dream had faded and Rowan wanted to know more about half a dozen things she’d discovered that day.

  “Fascinating? I rather find my wife simply losing consciousness far from fascinating,” Clive said. He’d brought his chair closer to hers than he normally did. Close enough that he could touch her easily.

  He brushed a hand over hers and then tucked her braid back. Normally, she’d put a stop to this overprotective business because he was already prone to being in her face all the time about everything she did. With reason, she supposed. But. But, she’d scared him. He’d have woken up to news she’d been unconscious. While he was at daytime rest. While he couldn’t have done anything.

  So she let him fuss because they both needed the reassurance.

  Genevieve tipped her chin, acknowledging the emotion beneath Clive’s sarcasm. “Rowan’s gifts from her Goddess are growing. Her prophetic path and mine are aligning. This could lead to both of us being more powerful. We create a mirror and double our energy.”

  Wow, really? Like a Transformer? Cool.

  “Which keeps everyone safer,” David added and that reminded Rowan not to act so flip right then when Clive was still petting her.

  “I don’t like not being really good at it yet,” Rowan admitted. “But I’m learning with each episode. The techniques you taught me to deal with the images from a dream so I could manage to make sense and catalog them helped a lot today,” she told Genevieve. She didn’t need to go into how it felt like she was drowning, suffocating as the images flashed through her brain at dizzying speed. The important part was she’d managed it. They all needed to know she’d be all right because she was too stubborn not to be.

  Rowan continued, “This happened here at home. Even if I’d been alone, I would have woken up when I was supposed to.” She looked directly at Clive. “I’m okay. Just now with added fortune-telling dreams.”

  “Is it safe for you to travel to Prague? Should you hold off?” he asked.

  “I’m no medical expert—or expert of any type—on prophecy. But I don’t think Star would let me go anywhere if it was dangerous to do so. And I’ve traveled since my first dream with no ill effects. I think this is just another thing to add to our plus column. Another weapon. Another shield.”

  His eyes told her he hated the idea of putting her in any danger. There was guilt there. Panic at losing her. Because she knew that fear for him, she leaned in to kiss him quickly.

  “I promise. If there’s a problem, I’m not going to put myself at risk unless I have no option otherwise and I need to intervene.”

  “Spoken like a woman who grew up understanding how a nonspecific oath can get you into trouble,” Clive told her, but there was a little less unhappiness on his features.

  She was at a table with a near five-hundred-year-old Scion-level Vampire and a seven-hundred-and-change-year-old Genetic witch whose family line was apparently the Who’s Who of the magical world. One didn’t make promises or oaths or anything of the sort without thinking very carefully with beings as powerful and dangerous as Clive and Genevieve. Both seemed driven to protect her, so that made Rowan even more careful to not box herself in.

  Rowan sent him a smug smile and he kissed her temple. She loved when he did that. It was so tender, and it made her feel precious but not in a gross way.

  “I accept your promise,” Clive said by way of following up.

  “As do I.” Genevieve nodded and then added as she put her phone away, “Now that you’re awake, I need to return to my home. Just for a few minutes but there are papers I need to sign, and they were sent there. Then I will come back, and we will discuss many things.”

  “That sounded mildly threatening,” David said.

  Genevieve sent him a beautiful smile. “Did it?” She stood and in a flurry of jangling bracelets and floral-scented air, left, calling out her goodbyes to Betchamp and Elisabeth.

  It was a good thing he was as near immortal because otherwise, the fear would have taken yet more years off his life. Loving Rowan wasn’t for the fainthearted. His wife seemed to consistently draw powerful beings who wanted to kill her. And now Rowan was having these spells and knowings settling in with enough force to knock her unconscious. It filled him with fear even as pride won out. She was like no other being on the planet and part of that was her courage and outright hostility to being told what to do.

  Not once when she’d been unconscious had their bond weakened. She’d been there. Steady. Strong. Vibrant. So, he’d taken a few calls and sat at her side, occasionally ordering her to wake up. Rowan being Rowan, she’d ignored those orders for forty-five minutes.

  Genevieve had been correct. These prophetic gifts Rowan was manifesting would make her safer. There was a period of time as she struggled through to figure out how to interpret whatever she’d seen, but his wife wasn’t friends with failure, so she’d find a way soon enough. And then she’d have another strong weapon in her arsenal.

  But those forty-five minutes when she was beyond his reach would take a lot longer to leave his memory. Though she was strong through their bond, he could do nothing but sit at her side. His finest gift, and when it came to this sort of thing, he could not protect her. No matter that it was his greatest desire.

  And there was the no small matter of the development of a significant gift.

  “People will find out, eventually,” Clive said as he kept an eye on her while she steadily cleaned her plate. Her appetite was strong. To see her eating with some gusto made him feel better.

  “The prophecy stuff you mean?” she asked and when he nodded, she shrugged. “Eventually people will figure it out somehow. I’ll slip up and mention it to the wrong person, or be overheard, or someone else who knows will do so. It’s a big planet, but our paranormal world is small enough. Everyone is in everyone else’s pockets.”