who could work magic, and he was both immortal and incredibly powerful. He was also murderous, ambitious, and insane. Belle and Tristan had locked horns with him the month before, and had damn near died doing it. If he’d surfaced again . . .
Belle stood and looked around at the Majae. Unlike the vampires, they did eat, which is why she’d spent the day cooking for them. “There’s more hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen, girls. Please finish them off. Stay as long as you want.”
As Tristan stepped aside, she stalked past him through a chorus of good-byes. “All right, where am I opening this gate?” she said after he’d closed the door behind her. “And what the hell’s going on?” And why have you been avoiding me?
Tristan shook his head. “Actually, I don’t know many of the details myself. William Justice is my contact. He’s the Wolf sheriff—the top werewolf cop, appointed by the Direkind Council of Clans. He’s a good guy . . .”
“As opposed to the aristocratic nutjobs we dealt with last month,” Belle muttered.
“Right. This guy fought for us during the Dragon War.” He was referring to the battle the Magekind had fought a year or so ago, back when they’d been ass-deep in alien demons and calling in every ally they could find. The Sidhe, Dragonkind, and assorted werewolves had joined the battle against the Dark Ones, and a lot of them had died doing it. “He’s been contacting me for help on cases ever since, usually when he needs me to bring in magical firepower.”
Like vampires, werewolves couldn’t use magic beyond the limits of their own bodies; for spell work, they needed witch help.
“So where is this scene?”
“South Carolina. Some podunk little town.” There were a lot of werewolves in South Carolina, Merlin only knew why. Tristan reached into a pocket to pull out an iPhone. “Hey, Justice? I found my witch. Help her with her gate, would you?” He offered her the cell, and she accepted it. The touch of his hand sent a flush of frustrated heat zinging up her arm.
Belle dragged her attention away from his stern, handsome face as she put the phone to her ear. Some Maja had enchanted it to carry inter-dimensional transmissions between Mortal Earth and the magical city of Avalon. She could sense the buzz of an active spell as she handled it. “Hello, Justice?” Good name for a cop.
“Look, you people need to get over here now ,” growled a deep voice with a distinct Southern drawl. “The kid’s parents have called every wolf in the fucking county. The mood’s getting ugly. I need to get you and the knight in and out before I have a riot on my hands.”
“I’m sorry for the delay,” Belle told him. “We’re on our way.”
“Do you want to gate directly to the scene?”
“Not if you want me to sense any magic cast by the killer,” she told him. “A dimensional gate produces a pretty strong blast of magical energies that would destroy older traces. We’re going to have to come in some distance from the scene if we don’t want to contaminate it.”
“You do realize that means you’re going to have to walk through a pack of pissed-off family members?”
She shrugged. “Can’t be helped.”
“All right. How far out do you want me to get?”
“At least a couple of blocks.”
“Okay. Give me a minute.” She listened to the rustle of clothes and the murmur of angry voices, then the click of boots on cement. Silence fell, broken by the chirp of distant crickets. “I’m there.”
Belle concentrated, drawing on the hot roil of the Mageverse as she used the phone’s magical connection to home in on Justice’s location. Magic poured from the tips of her fingers, conjuring a glowing point in the center of the hallway. A heartbeat later, it had expanded into a shimmering oval: an inter-dimensional gate.
Avalon, the Magekind’s capital city, was located in another universe entirely, on a world that was a twin to Mortal Earth. Magic was a physical law
Belle stood and looked around at the Majae. Unlike the vampires, they did eat, which is why she’d spent the day cooking for them. “There’s more hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen, girls. Please finish them off. Stay as long as you want.”
As Tristan stepped aside, she stalked past him through a chorus of good-byes. “All right, where am I opening this gate?” she said after he’d closed the door behind her. “And what the hell’s going on?” And why have you been avoiding me?
Tristan shook his head. “Actually, I don’t know many of the details myself. William Justice is my contact. He’s the Wolf sheriff—the top werewolf cop, appointed by the Direkind Council of Clans. He’s a good guy . . .”
“As opposed to the aristocratic nutjobs we dealt with last month,” Belle muttered.
“Right. This guy fought for us during the Dragon War.” He was referring to the battle the Magekind had fought a year or so ago, back when they’d been ass-deep in alien demons and calling in every ally they could find. The Sidhe, Dragonkind, and assorted werewolves had joined the battle against the Dark Ones, and a lot of them had died doing it. “He’s been contacting me for help on cases ever since, usually when he needs me to bring in magical firepower.”
Like vampires, werewolves couldn’t use magic beyond the limits of their own bodies; for spell work, they needed witch help.
“So where is this scene?”
“South Carolina. Some podunk little town.” There were a lot of werewolves in South Carolina, Merlin only knew why. Tristan reached into a pocket to pull out an iPhone. “Hey, Justice? I found my witch. Help her with her gate, would you?” He offered her the cell, and she accepted it. The touch of his hand sent a flush of frustrated heat zinging up her arm.
Belle dragged her attention away from his stern, handsome face as she put the phone to her ear. Some Maja had enchanted it to carry inter-dimensional transmissions between Mortal Earth and the magical city of Avalon. She could sense the buzz of an active spell as she handled it. “Hello, Justice?” Good name for a cop.
“Look, you people need to get over here now ,” growled a deep voice with a distinct Southern drawl. “The kid’s parents have called every wolf in the fucking county. The mood’s getting ugly. I need to get you and the knight in and out before I have a riot on my hands.”
“I’m sorry for the delay,” Belle told him. “We’re on our way.”
“Do you want to gate directly to the scene?”
“Not if you want me to sense any magic cast by the killer,” she told him. “A dimensional gate produces a pretty strong blast of magical energies that would destroy older traces. We’re going to have to come in some distance from the scene if we don’t want to contaminate it.”
“You do realize that means you’re going to have to walk through a pack of pissed-off family members?”
She shrugged. “Can’t be helped.”
“All right. How far out do you want me to get?”
“At least a couple of blocks.”
“Okay. Give me a minute.” She listened to the rustle of clothes and the murmur of angry voices, then the click of boots on cement. Silence fell, broken by the chirp of distant crickets. “I’m there.”
Belle concentrated, drawing on the hot roil of the Mageverse as she used the phone’s magical connection to home in on Justice’s location. Magic poured from the tips of her fingers, conjuring a glowing point in the center of the hallway. A heartbeat later, it had expanded into a shimmering oval: an inter-dimensional gate.
Avalon, the Magekind’s capital city, was located in another universe entirely, on a world that was a twin to Mortal Earth. Magic was a physical law
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