It’s a painful reminder of what we’ve already lost. What we stand to lose again if we can’t get our hands on that Codex.
Behind me, the men are silent, waiting for my command.
I turn to meet each of their gazes once more.
It doesn’t need to be said, but I say it anyway, a whisper that echoes with finality across the marble floors and straight into our immortal, fae-cursed hearts.
“Gentlemen, wecannotfuck this up.”
Chapter Five
WESTLYN
A storm is closing in fast, casting the gargoyles of Thornwood Cathedral in sinister black shadows. The full moon that shone so brightly through my hotel windows is now completely obscured.
Tendrils of fear curl around my heart.
This is really happening…
The stars have vanished too, but as I climb the cathedral’s ancient stone steps and gaze up at the looming spires, a wish flutters through my mind anyway—a wish that the gargoyles are more than just statues. That somehow, one of them will hear my silent plea, sweep me into his strong embrace, and fly me far, far away from this city.
“Westlyn, keep moving,” Eloise huffs. Cradling her killer bouquet like a precious newborn baby, she barges past me and races for the heavy stained-glass door at the top. “Hurry! Before the rain starts!”
I follow her into the narthex, disappointment settling heavy in my gut.
Not only did my gargoyle fail to materialize, but so did my father.
It’s the wedding of his only daughter—his onlychild, for the love of bats—and my father is nowhere to be found.
NowhereIcan find him, anyway. I’m sure he’s making the rounds inside, air-kissing the same mages who were happy to kick him while he was down. Beyond the carved doors that lead into the nave, the whole place echoes with their fake laughter and overblown congratulations.
Frauds. At least half the people on the guest list turned down his requests for loans, cold-shouldering us when we begged for protection against the thugs who kept showing up at the brownstone.
But now that our family is aligned with the all-powerful Archmage, I guess we’re all besties again.
Ahh, the politics of high-society magical life—a game no one ever taught me how to play.
Why would they? Pawns like me aren’t expected to make the big power moves. We simply go where we’re told and let the rest of the pieces fall into place around us.
“Take these.” Eloise shoves the bouquet into my arms and restarts the tedious process of pecking at my hair and dress. I try to hold my breath and turn away from the offensive flowers, but it’s no use. The damn things are on a mission to kill me, and if my watering eyes and scratchy throat are any indication, their victory is close at hand.
“For goddess’ sake, Westlyn.” Eloise glowers, her frown lines deepening. “How is Hunter supposed to feel when he sees his bride-to-be walking down the aisle with that sourpuss?”
Not as bad as he’ll feel if I have to becarrieddown the aisle in a stretcher on account of these flowers…
Wiggling my nose to stave off a sneeze, I plaster on a sweet-puss to counteract the sour.
“Should you text Dad?” I ask, my voice overly bright. “It’s almost time.”
“No need. We’ve got the front pew reserved.”Swat-swat-swat, goes her hand against my dress, obliterating invisible dust motes. “I’m sure he’ll be taking his seat momentarily—he wouldn’t miss this.”
“But… Isn’t he going to walk me down the aisle?”
Swat-swat.“You’re not a child anymore, Westlyn. The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.” Certain she’s beaten my dress into submission, she rises to her full height and grips my chin, red-lacquered nails digging into my face.
I brace for the lecture to come, but before she can utter another word, the tingling in my nose erupts, and I blast her with a gale-force sneeze at the same time the first crack of thunder booms across the skies.
Seconds later, the deluge outside begins, soaking the streets and muting the traffic to a din.
