Page 158 of Fallen Court

“Now, about that ring,” Baptiste started.

I turned to face her. Determination settled over me, heavy but not like a burden. It was an anchor, tethering me to who I was, what nothing could ever take from me. “About that,” I began, lifting my chin as I lied. “It’s at the Avalon in the top drawer of my dresser. Once the bona fides spell is down, you should have no problem getting to it.”

“The Gage family will have other things to worry about,” she agreed, her gaze searching me. “It’s not wise to show your hand before all the cards are on the table.”

But I had more cards to play.

“You’re working for Oberon, aren’t you?” I had to keep her talking, keep her distracted.

Her smile was feline. “Very good. Better late than never, anyway. What detail was it, exactly, that tipped you off?”

“It was that you don’t strike me as smart enough to plan this on your own.”

Baptiste’s lip curled, revealing her fangs. “Maybe I’ll drain you, too. Then you can be with your precious brother.”

“No, you aren’t going to do that, because Oberon wants me alive.”

“Oberon wants the ring. He doesn’t need you,” she snarled, but her face softened with reverence. “He has made himself a god, harnessed the powers of light and shadow, claimed the other magics. And he will raise an army of icons to fight the coming chaos.”

We had never been safe from Oberon. His puppets had been here the entire time, waiting for the right moment to bring down the bona fides, waiting for me to take off that ring, waiting until the Nether Court was broken.

“Reality check. He will step on you to take what he wants. He doesn’t care about you. He destroyed his land—his court—and he’s going to destroy this one if you drop the bona fides spell.” I had to make her see what she was really doing. It was our only chance. “Magic has a cost.”

“And I will pay it!” she screamed. “As I have paid it in blood for centuries. Now shut up!”

I knew what I was doing as I reached into my pocket. She needed a fae. I would give her one. “Let Ciara and Channing go.”

“I still need to kill a fae.” Her attention turned to Ciara. “Cooperate, and your brother might live. Keep trying to argue, and they both die.”

My fingers closed over the effigy. But Ciara limped forward, face drawn with pain. “Just get this over with.”

“No.” I took out the doll as the door swung open. We were out of time.

Baptiste smiled as Shaw walked into the kitchen. “And now the Cabal is complete.”

My mind reeled. Both of our brothers, here. One bloodied and nearly broken. The other standing with the enemy. With the monsters who had killed innocent creatures. Who would kill more. The betrayal hit me like a punch to the gut, sucking the air from my lungs. It couldn’t be true.

Channing was a pawn, but Shaw…

He couldn’t be a member of the Cabal. He couldn’t be working with her.

With Oberon.

He froze mid-step, and for a fleeting second I believed it might be another trick. Another brother lured here to force our hands. Shaw’s gaze darted around the room, bouncing from Channing to Ciara and back to me before it finally landed on Baptiste. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, anger coiling in his voice.

“Shaw.” Ciara dragged herself another step, her voice barely a whisper. A new pain sparkled in her eyes—one that had nothing to do with her wounded leg.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look at her.

“Shaw.” She choked back a sob as she stretched a hand out to him.

“This wasn’t part of our arrangement,” he said, continuing to ignore her. Sweat beaded across his forehead, and he continued shakily, “You said we wouldn’t involve them.”

It was enough to stir me from my stupor. I forced myself up, my knees weak, an oily dread filling my stomach. Darting to Ciara, I drew her to the floor next to Channing. My brother’s eyes were wild, his chest rising and falling as the vampire blood worked its way through his system.

I held a finger to my lips. I needed to get them out of here.

“They walked into my restaurant,” Baptiste told Shaw with a shrug.