Callum still stuck to his heels like a red-headed shadow. “I have to go too.”

  Like the pegasus shifter had conveniently needed to go at the same time as Joe the last four times. He’d also insisted on accompanying him to the water station (twice), the food truck (once), and the random crew that Joe had invented a pressing need to greet (fortunately, it had turned out that he did know one of the squad bosses there. Even more fortunately, she’d informed him—after her initial surprised, pleased hug—that she had a boyfriend now).

  Joe was surprised at how easy it had been. He’d thought he’d have to act a lot more suspicious to make Callum follow him.

  Now Joe stomped through the camp yet again, taking care to be as loud and visible as possible. He put on an aggrieved tone. “Did Rory put you up to this? Does he think there’s something I’m not telling you guys?”

  “Is there?”

  “I told you, the hellhounds have given up trying to kidnap me. You don’t have to keep following me around like a—”

  He’d intended to say bodyguard, but his throat closed around the word. For a moment, all he could see was Seven. Her beautiful grey eyes, the elegant line of her neck, her strong, intoxicating body. How she’d stood, straight-backed and alone, as he’d left her behind.

  Callum’s green eyes narrowed fractionally. Joe became aware that he’d just left his sentence dangling, and hastily added, “Uh, like the world’s worst secret agent. Seriously, bro. I got this. Trust me.”

  Seven trusted him. She’d looked at him with such terrible, terrible trust, despite the awful things he’d said to her. In his desperation to make her let him go, he’d heartlessly exploited her insecurities, implying that she wasn’t good enough to protect him…and yet she’d still trusted him.

  When she found out…

  He hoped she did hate him, later. Maybe that would help her. He had to cling to that, to his certainty of her strength. She would make a life for herself; achieve her dreams. She would be happy.

  Callum, on the other hand, was looking even less happy than usual. He continued to dog Joe’s steps. “Fool me once.”

  It took him a second to work out what the pegasus shifter meant. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.

  “Would it kill you to speak in complete sentences every once in a while?” Joe snapped, then winced. That wasn’t what he wanted his last words to his friend to be. “I’m really sorry, bro. I didn’t mean that. I’m kinda on edge.”

  “I know.” To Joe’s astonishment, Cal reached out, awkwardly clasping his shoulder. It was just the briefest contact, but Joe couldn’t remember the last time Callum had willingly touched anyone. “Joe. We’re friends. Whatever is wrong, you don’t have to face it alone. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  For Callum, it was practically a Shakespearean soliloquy. Joe had to fight back a sudden mad urge to tell the pegasus shifter the truth. Maybe Cal would understand…

  No. He couldn’t risk it. He had to stick to the plan.

  They’d reached the edge of the encampment. Joe drew Callum behind a parked bulldozer, glancing around. No one was in sight.

  It was time.

  He dropped his voice. “Okay, look. I admit it. There’s something going on, something I couldn’t tell everyone else. If we’re going to defeat the demon, I need you to do something for me.”

  A blink was the only sign of Callum’s surprise. “What?”

  Joe drew Seven’s stunsword out from under his jacket. “Hold this. Not like that,” he added quickly, as Callum reached for the hilt. “This end, right here.”

  Callum shot him a puzzled look, but obediently clasped the blunt, retracted business end of the weapon. “Now what?”

  “Now I’m really, really sorry,” Joe said, and activated the stunsword.

  He caught Callum as the pegasus shifter collapsed. He could only hope that he hadn’t zapped him too hard. The mate bond had let him channel just enough of Seven’s essence to fool the weapon into thinking he was its rightful owner, but he had none of her skill or finesse at controlling its magic.

  “Sorry,” he told Callum again. He rearranged the pegasus shifter into a more comfortable position. He tucked the stunsword under Callum’s elbow like a teddy bear. “See that this gets back to Seven for me, okay?”

  He struck out from camp, heading randomly into the forest. He had no idea where he was going, but that didn’t matter. He thrashed through the undergrowth, making as much noise as he could.

  Come on, come on. He took off his jacket, pretending to wipe sweat off his brow as if overheated. Here I am. One sea dragon prince, ready and waiting. Come on, Wulfric, whoever you are—

  Something sharp plunged into his shoulder. Cold numbness filled him.

  With relief, he closed his eyes, and surrendered to fate.

  Chapter 29

  Time had never moved so slowly. She felt like a ghost in the deserted compound, frozen in an unchanging moment, forgotten and fading. She kept trying to keep herself busy, but any task she started immediately felt wrong. How could she presume to tend to the spare tools or clean the communal areas? She wasn’t a hotshot crew member.

  She couldn’t practice sword-drills, either. Even if she’d had her weapon, she had forfeited the right to step through the ancient, honorable forms of a sea dragon warrior. Though her dishonor was not yet public, she had already given up her name. She wasn’t Seventh Novice of the Order of the First Water.

  She wasn’t anyone.

  The Thunderbird watched her impassively as she drifted from building to building, bereft of purpose. Its still, silent presence was no comfort. The great bird seemed to be waiting for something, just as much as she was.

  In the end, she gave up and went to the gym. For hour after hour, she lifted weights and ran through conditioning exercises, all while keeping half an ear out for the sound of an approaching vehicle. Joe had said that Atlantis would send someone to fetch her, but not when or how.

  She’d expected a helicopter, or possibly a car. What she hadn’t expected was for a tall, curvy, motherly woman to breeze into the gym without so much as a knock.

  “Goodness, that’s a steep mountain. And a long walk up from the lake.” The woman settled her ample backside onto the end of the weight bench. She pushed back her long, tightly curled black hair, revealing a sweaty but smiling face. “Could I trouble you for a drink?”

  Tongue-tied, Seven handed her water bottle to the Pearl Empress, Queen of Atlantis, the Heart of the Sea.

  “Oh, that’s better.” The Empress took a long drink, then splashed a little water into her palm, patting it onto her forehead. She wasn’t wearing a crown, or formal robes of state; just a simple silk sundress that clung to her generous curves. “I really don’t know how you firefighters do it, you know. Just being outside in this heat has me melting into a puddle. I can’t imagine working flat-out for twelve, fourteen hours, and then getting up the next day and doing it all over again. I’m sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Neridia.”

  It took Seven two attempts to form words. “Yes. I know.”

  Neridia made a little grimace. Her eyes were exactly the same turquoise as her son’s. “I suppose you do. Atlantis is a small place, after all. Please don’t do that.”

  Seven, who’d been belatedly sliding off the bench to drop into a formal genuflection, froze. Feeling about as graceful as a newborn goat, she got to her feet, straightening into parade rest. “Your Majesty—”

  “Oh, no.” Neridia winced, just like Joe had done when she’d first addressed him by his title. “If I’m going to be your mother-in-law, we’ll have to ditch some of the etiquette. Otherwise family dinners are going to be terribly stilted.” She hitched over a little, patting the bench next to her. “Here. We need to talk. Sit down.”

  Seven did so. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

  Neridia’s eyebrows lifted a little. “What for?”

  “For…for being your son’s mate.”

  Neridia gave her a long, considering look. “Are you sorry about that?”

  Under the pressure of that penetrating, sea-deep gaze, the truth slipped out. “No.”

  Neridia’s generous mouth curved upward. “Good. Then there’s hope for you both.” She leaned back on her hands, gazing thoughtfully around the shabby gym. “So this is where my son has been hiding from me.”

  Seven thought of Joe’s deprecating words when he’d first shown her around the base; his flippant tone, and the clear love in his eyes. The warmth of the mate bond pulsed in her chest.

  “He does miss you,” she said. “And Atlantis. But he belongs here, too. Please don’t make him give it up.”

  Neridia’s face softened. “I would never ask him to give up something he loved.” She let out a soft sigh, her voice dropping. “I wouldn’t have to. He’s far too good at doing that all on his own.”

  Oh, Joe’s mother knew her son. “He—he is very certain that this is the right path for us.”

  “Yes, I know,” Neridia said, rather dryly. “He explained it to me at great length, and with a great many words. He was very convincing.” She pinned Seven once more with those unnerving, sea-colored eyes. “Now I want to hear what you think.”

  Seven couldn’t hold the Empress’s gaze. She dropped her own to her hands, fidgeting. “I trust him. If he says that this is right, it must be.”

  Neridia tilted her head. “Because he can see the future?”

  Seven stared at her. “You…you know?”

  “I have always known.” Neridia’s calm aura faltered. For a moment, she was just a mother, helpless to help her child. “Ever since he first started screaming in his sleep. But he always insisted they were just nightmares. He wouldn’t…” Her folded hands tightened. “He wouldn’t come to me.”

  On impulse, Seven put her hand over Neridia’s. “I think he wanted to. But he was frightened. He thought that if anyone knew, he would lose his freedom.” She hesitated. “You know that he doesn’t want to be Emperor, don’t you?”

  Neridia was silent for a moment. A tear overflowed, running down her cheek.

  “My biggest regret is that I didn’t give him a normal childhood,” the Empress said quietly. “I should have kept him out of the spotlight. But I couldn’t bear to leave him with a foster family, or a nanny. I told myself that he was only little, he needed to be with me just as much as I needed to be with him. And the Sea Council was so thrilled that the Imperial bloodline would continue, and everyone in Atlantis loved seeing the adorable little Crown Prince toddling at my side…I should have done better. I should have protected him.”

  Her own mother’s face flashed in her memory. “Nobody’s childhood is perfect. The most important thing is that he knows what it feels like to be loved, unconditionally, just the way he is. That’s the greatest gift you could ever have given him.”

  Neridia sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her nose in a very un-regal manner. “I am so happy that you’re his mate, Seven. And I would love to have you by my side in Atlantis. As a knight, and more. The Sea Council needs more diverse voices, voices like yours, if we are truly to do right for all the people of the Pearl Empire. But…”

  Neridia drew in a deep breath, straightening. It was like she drew on an invisible robe of state as she did so. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t wearing a crown. She didn’t need one.

  “But first,” the Empress said, meeting Seven’s eyes, “I need you to tell me, honestly, that you truly believe that Joe is right. That your place is with me, in Atlantis, and not by his side.”

  Her shark circled around the glowing mate bond at the center of her soul. Seven reached for her animal, for her sense of Joe, for her heart.

  She listened.

  She shot to her feet. “I have to go. I have to go right now.”

  Neridia nodded, unsurprised. “I rather thought you might. Is there any way I can help? Any assistance I can offer?”

  “No. Thank you,” Seven added, belatedly. “Thank you for everything.”

  She didn’t wait for a response. She was already running, out the door, past the startled Imperial honor guard waiting outside. She ran, through winds that were already starting to pick up, under clouds that were thickening and darkening every second.

  And she could only pray that she wasn’t already too late.

  Chapter 30

  He awoke with cold chains around his wrists.

  It was so familiar that for a moment his mind rebelled, reflexively trying to break free from the vision. But there was no waking up. Not this time.

  This wasn’t a vision. This was real. It was finally happening, now.

  Oh, sea. He’d been hoping to have the strength to meet his fate with a cocky grin and a witty quip. Now, he was just grateful for all those trips to the toilet. At least he would go out with dry pants.

  He opened his eyes a crack, trying not to let on that he was conscious again. He was lying on his side, dry leaf litter against his cheek. Chains bound his arms and legs, uncomfortably tight. There seemed to be an argument going on above his head.

  “I don’t like this, Lupa.” Joe recognized the deep voice of the wendigo shifter, Mort. “He walked straight into our hands. This has to be some kind of trap.”

  “He’s bound and drugged. Wulfric injected him with enough basilisk venom to keep him from shifting for days.” Joe felt Lupa’s small foot nudge him in the ribs. He stayed limp, playing dead. “What could he possibly do to hurt me?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out.” Mort blew out his breath. “Look, Lupa. I know you’re only doing this for me, but I don’t want any more innocent lives on my conscience. I’m begging you. Let him go.”

  “No,” Lupa said flatly. “Go and help the rest of the pack. Keep the Thunderbird from interfering.”

  “Little one—”

  “I said no!” Lupa’s voice rose sharply. “I’m not losing you! Now go!”

  Joe heard Mort stagger back, as though Lupa’s power had physically shoved him. The wendigo hesitated, then let out another long sigh. Human footsteps turned into the crunch of giant paws, heading away.

  Lupa kicked him in the ribs again, harder. “I know you’re awake. Stop playing dead and get up.”

  Dying on his feet seemed more dignified than dying flat on his back. He sat up, wincing as the drug made the clearing spin around his head. He reached for his dragon, but it was still unconscious. He felt cold, naked without his animal. The mate bond was the only spark of warmth remaining in the vast, silent sea of his soul.

  Lupa dragged him upright by his chains. He started to topple over again the moment she let go of him. Lupa made an impatient, annoyed sound, and propped him up against a tree.

  “If this is a trick, it’s not going to work,” she informed him.

  “No trick,” he croaked out. “But you don’t want to do this.”

  She folded her arms, glaring at him. “And why is that?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that you don’t.”

  “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know that your name is Lupa.” He jerked his chin in the direction the wendigo had vanished. “I know his name is Mort, and that you love each other like family. I know that you’d do anything to protect him. That’s why you plan to sacrifice me instead of him to…” He struggled to remember the name she’d called in his vision, the name she’d used to summon the demon. “To Unktehi.”

  She caught her breath. “How do you know that name?”

  “I know a lot of things. What I don’t know is why you’re doing any of this in the first place.” His feet were sliding out from underneath him. He fought to stay upright, to hold her shocked stare. “But I know you don’t really want to. Something’s making you, something bad. You don’t have to do this, Lupa. Whatever you’re facing, my friends and I can help. Please. Let us help you. You’ve made some bad choices, but you can’t be all bad if you can love someone like you clearly love Mort.”

  For a moment, he thought he had her. Her topaz eyes were wide, vulnerable. For a moment, she looked very young.

  Then her face twisted. She tossed her hair, revealing the horned-serpent mark on her forehead.

  “You think love is enough?” she spat. “You think that’s enough to make someone a good person, worthy of redemption, no matter what else they’ve done? You know nothing. Nothing. You can’t help me.” The biting scorn in her voice wavered, just for an instant. “No one can help me.”

  With a final toss of her head, she turned away. She knelt down, pressing one hand to the ground.

  “Father of Serpents,” she began, just as he’d seen in his dream. “Blood calls to blood. The world turns, the storms fade, and the time of snakes and shadows comes once more.”

  He hadn’t really expected to persuade her to trust him. He’d known it would come to this. Still, his guts clenched in fear as the mark on her forehead lit up.

  “Rise, horned consort, ever-hungry one,” Lupa went on. “The one who gnaws at the roots of the world. Accept this sacrifice—”

  “Unwilling sacrifice!” He twisted his wrists together, futilely straining against his chains. “Very, very unwilling!”

  “Be quiet,” Lupa snapped over her shoulder. “Accept this sacrifice—”

  He raised his hand—well, both hands, since they were chained together. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I clarify just how unwilling I am? I know I kinda walked right into your clutches, but I honestly am exceedingly unhappy to be in this position. I just want to make sure that’s noted down. You know, formally. Just in case it matters.”

  Lupa stared at him as though he’d started speaking in sea dragon. “This is your big plan? Do you seriously think you can rules-lawyer your way out of a demonic ritual?”

  He raised his eyebrows at her hopefully. “Can I?”

  “No.”

  “Pity. Well, it was worth a try.”

  It had been worth a try, but it wasn’t his plan. His plan was very, very simple.

  Just keep talking.

  Long enough for the Thunderbird to battle its way through the pack and torch the place. Ideally, before the demon rose. Not because he was hoping to get out of this alive—he had no illusions about that. He’d never seen anything in his future past this day.

 

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