Warrior Enchanted: The Sons of the Zodiac (12 page)

“Gods help me if you can’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grey extended his hand, palm up. “Take my hand.”

Finley extended hers in return, the sharp jolt as their fingers entwined shooting through her stomach in a sparkle of fireworks.

“Hang on.”

Before she could reply, the room disappeared from view on a rush of air.

D
rake took another bite of syrup-covered waffles—not so much because he wanted it, but because he knew his strength depended on it—as he stared across the kitchen table. His gaze hadn’t left Emerson’s for more than fifteen seconds at a stretch, while Callie fluttered and forced food on both of them.

“I’m fine, Drake. You don’t have to keep watching me like I’m going to disappear,” Emerson grumbled as she picked at half of a bagel.

“Bad choice of words, seeing as how you did disappear from my sight an hour ago.”

“She’s not going to disappear in this house,” Callie said, swatting him on the back of the head before laying down a freshly filled platter heaped with more waffles and several pieces of French toast. The fresh platter dwarfed the heaping pile of bagels he’d brought home earlier, which sat at the opposite end of the table. “Let the woman eat.”

Even as he made a show of rubbing the back of his
head, Drake didn’t miss the small smile of gratitude Emerson shot Callie. “I’m fine, Drake.”

He reached out and brushed a finger over her left cheekbone, the bruise that swelled under his touch sending a renewed rush of anger hurtling through his system. “He laid a hand on you.”

“I was there, Drake.” Emerson ripped another piece, color rising in her cheeks. “I’m not helpless and I’m fine now. Can we just drop it?”

Quinn’s heavy voice boomed outside the swinging door, announcing his arrival. “What the hell happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Drake grumbled before reaching for another waffle.

“Well, who was the target?” Quinn pressed as he reached for his own plate. “You or Emerson?”

“It was me.” Emerson’s gaze grew thoughtful. “Or at least I thought it was me. But maybe you’re right. He did ask Drake about the apple.”

“Is Grey back?” Drake reached for more bacon. Despite his lack of hunger, Callie had figured out—as usual—the perfect food to keep them fueled. “Have you even heard from him?”

“Other than a text that he’s fine, I’ve got nothing.”

“Convenient,” Drake added drily.

“Or very inconvenient. I don’t think he’s shaken the lawyer loose yet.”

Drake didn’t miss the avid interest that filled both Callie’s and Emerson’s faces as each leaned forward eagerly.

“What lawyer?” Emerson was the first to get the question out.

“The op last night was a mess from the get-go and Grey’s source of information was captured.”

“He’s probably been busy wiping her mind,” Quinn added around a mouthful.

“Doubtful.” Drake shook his head. He quickly got the rest of them up to speed on their Aries’s challenges with his informant.

Quinn’s gaze sharpened, his security skills veering onto high alert. “You think she’s still aware of what’s going on?”

A heavy thud reverberated around the room as Grey materialized before them with a slender woman in his arms.

Drake didn’t miss Emerson’s raised eyebrows, but it was Callie who spoke first.

“I’d say that’s a big messy yes.”

Magnus slipped into the warehouse, the dim lighting no match for his recently heightened senses. Everything was different now, he thought as he ran a hand over his shoulder blade, even his fucking eyes.

The layout matched his intel, so he allowed himself a moment to relax as he waited for his target. A few oddly arranged folding chairs sat in the middle of the room and he took one, stretching out his long legs.

He hadn’t intended to become an assassin, but oddly, the job suited him. He enjoyed the way his large body easily provoked fear in his targets. Add to that the unexpected side benefits and he couldn’t complain.

What he hadn’t banked on was the way the kills fueled the fever inside of him. All that horrible anger that
gripped his nerve endings and wouldn’t let go no matter how hard he tried to leave it behind.

Memories—still so vivid in his mind’s eye—rose up, their cadence familiar, their moments bitter.

His mother’s voice, full of promises for a better life.

The realization as all her carefully laid plans came crashing down around her.

And the moment—that hideous moment—when she’d vanished through the portal, her form and her soul lost to the other side.

Even now, all these years later, he couldn’t escape the anger and the hatred that boiled in the very darkest parts of his soul.

As he gave the anger free rein, allowing it to roil and churn through his system while he prepared for the kill, his mind drifted past those last images of his mother to more recent images.

Emerson.

His little sister had always been independent—always convinced of her choices—but she’d changed with them in the time he’d been gone. Had grown harder, somehow. Her absolute defense of her pure magic practices, for one thing. He knew how she felt about the darker side of magic, but the loathing he’d seen reflected in her gaze when he’d dared her to think bigger had been a surprise.

Didn’t she ever wish to toy with the dark side?

And then there was her relationship with their neighbor. The big man next door made him itchy, his laconic gaze and easygoing smile too easy. Too casual. Magnus didn’t trust him and he most certainly didn’t trust the man’s influence on his sister.

A heavy scraping at the sound of the door being unlocked caught his attention and Magnus sat up fully in his chair. Thoughts of things he couldn’t control fled in the face of the one thing he could. A light flared in the small entryway at the far side of the room, but he stayed where he was, unwilling to leave his seat.

He didn’t need to in order to accomplish his task.

Another light flared, this time over his head, and two men crossed the room deep conversation, both ignorant to his presence. With deliberate slowness, Magnus pushed back on his chair, allowing the metal to echo gently on the floor.

The two men scrambled in alarm, drawing guns from their waistbands, but he was on both of them before they could get off a shot.

Emerson took another bite of her breakfast, curious at the drama playing out around her. She’d diligently avoided becoming too enmeshed in the politics of Warrior Central, but even she wasn’t immune to the big shit-storm that had just arrived in the kitchen.

There was no doubt the woman attached to Grey was a mortal.

While Emerson knew she fit in the same category, her skills had always made her far more receptive to the unexplainable things in life most people didn’t understand.

And didn’t want to.

She’d spent most of her life keeping her skills a secret from everyone she met. While she intuitively understood most people weren’t broadminded enough to accept someone who could conjure elements, it had always
hurt to hide such an important part of herself from the world.

Add to it the fact that witchcraft had a relatively shitty history in the timeline of human events and she’d always found it far easier to close herself off.

Without warning, Magnus’s words from the evening before hit an uncomfortable chord in her mind.

Life changes, Em. People change. Times change. And if you don’t change with it, you’re nothing but a dinosaur.

While her brother’s mysterious behavior and harsh judgment didn’t make for a great welcome home, his words had churned something up she couldn’t shake. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite discredit the feelings.

“You okay?” Drake’s whispered words floated over her, drawing her attention back to the kitchen and the sudden realization a fight was brewing between Grey and Quinn.

“I am. But”—she pointed toward the woman standing next to Grey—“she looks like she’s had her fill.”

Slipping off her chair, Emerson moved toward the doe-eyed woman who clutched Grey’s hand. “Come on and sit down.”

“They look pretty angry.”

Emerson waved a hand, conjuring a breezy attitude she didn’t quite feel. “They’re just barking at each other. It’s a pretty regular occurrence.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

Grey broke off his argument with Quinn as his gaze snapped toward the woman. “You refused to cooperate.”

“You kidnapped her?” Emerson felt the shock
straight to her toes. Grey had always seemed like the levelheaded one.

“No.”

Emerson turned toward the woman. “Did he?”

“Not exactly. But he’s not crazy about letting me leave, either.”

Grey’s normally cool head and even cooler voice rose a notch as he watched them take seats at the raised butcher-block table. “Look, Finley. If you were more susceptible, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Susceptible?” Finley’s mouth dropped. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re too smart for your own damn good.”

Before she could say anything, Drake stepped between his Warrior brothers. “You two need to calm down. Quinn. I’m sure there’s a very good reason Grey brought her here.”

“There is,” the Aries quickly added.

“Then out with it.”

Callie set a plate and cream cheese in front of Finley and pointed to the bagels. “Eat. You look about to fall over. And you can ignore the ‘susceptible’ comment. None of the women in this house are what anyone would call shy and retiring.” She shot Grey a dark look. “Or susceptible.”

“You’re not helping, Cal,” Grey shot back as he took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

As the testosterone continued to roll through the room in crashing waves, Emerson piped up. “Look, could someone do a quick recap for those of us trying to catch up?”

“Only if you tell us how you got a shiner,” Quinn interjected.

Drake got everyone up to speed on their park incident while Quinn fired a series of questions. “Phobos asked about the apple? How’s he involved in this? Did Eris borrow him from Enyo?”

“No idea.”

Emerson tried piecing the names together. She knew Enyo from the incident last year with Kane and Ilsa, but Eris was a new one. “Who’s Eris?”

“Wait.” Finley spoke up, her interest clearly piqued. “Enyo and Eris are characters in Greek mythology. Are you somehow suggesting they’re real?”

“Yes.” Grey’s tone was firm.

“But it’s not possible.”

The implacable tone didn’t let up. “A lot of things that have happened to you in the last twenty-four hours haven’t been possible, but they happened.”

“This is why you brought me here?” Finley looked around the table at the assembled group. Emerson was pleased to see the level of fright in her eyes had diminished, with rising anger rapidly taking its place.

“Until we figure out what’s going on, I want to keep an eye on you.” Emerson knew all of the guys could be hard-asses when needed, but Grey’s attitude was unrelenting.

Before any of them could interject, Grey added, “And before you all make me out to be the bad guy, Finley should be frightened. You all should. There’s some serious shit brewing and I’m convinced the apple’s only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Eris won’t rest until she has it back.” Drake’s green
eyes were thoughtful. “The incident in the park this morning made that abundantly clear.”

Quinn spoke, his voice far calmer than his earlier shouting match with Grey. “Then we need to draw her out. Just like we’ve done to her sister.”

Eris handed Phobos another towel as he dabbed at his face. The burn marks were healing, but it did nothing for his attitude, which was getting more riled by the minute.

“She burned me, Aunt Eris.” That incessant shifting from foot to foot was worse as his body healed, the nervous motion even more annoying than usual.

“I can see that. But you still haven’t told me who you think she is.” Eris had her suspicions—her sister had mentioned a witch who had paired up with the Warriors last year—but she hadn’t realized the woman had stayed so chummy with the guys. Or one guy in particular, based on her nephew’s report of the woman who tossed fire having been out running with the Pisces.

Could it really be that easy? The witch
next door
?

“I don’t know, but she’s got some power behind her.”

“Did you get any information on the apple?” In the midst of planning her assignation with Rogan it had seemed like a good idea to send Phobos to deal with the situation. Now she was paying for her folly.

“No. The fish played dumb.”

“He’s the Pisces Warrior.”

More hopping. “He’s a smelly, oily fish to me.”

She held back the sigh, knowing full well it was her
own fault the morning hadn’t been a success. Maybe it was time to bring out her new weapon. Although she was loath to use her new toy too often, the old tricks in her arsenal were increasingly ineffective as the Warriors fought with the spoils of technology and the basic battle benefit of knowing thy enemy.

It had been like this more and more over the last century and a half. Technology had added a new dimension to their battle that neither side could have anticipated.

On one hand, her ability to create discord was easier than ever. Internet viruses were a personal favorite, but even some basic innuendo and rumor could cause untold problems as it flew through the human world like wildfire.

Of course, it also gave the Warriors a distinct advantage, as everything could be tracked and accounted for.

What a dilemma.

Phobos had shifted to pace the room, the mumbled sounds of “smelly, oily fish” rumbling from his chest at regular intervals.

“He likes her, you know.”

Eris looked up from her own pacing to stare at her nephew. “What’s that?”

“The fish. He really likes her.”

“Well, of course he does. He’s a man and she’s a woman.”

“Not just the sex kind of like, Aunt Eris. He looooves her.”

Now this was something she could use. “What makes you think so?”

Phobos stopped and cocked his head, not all that
unlike a snake when staring down its charmer. “He looks at her like he loves her. And he touches her like he loves her. And he protected her.”