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Azaiel glanced down at her, and she carefully let go of his arm. There was a hard glint in his eye—a cold wash of winter that made her shudder. “Yeah.”
He turned and left her with a fractured, broken family and a big-ass gargoyle whose brilliant yellow eyes shot bullets her way. Rowan shook her head and sighed.
You couldn’t make this shit up.
Chapter 21
It was a cold wind that whipped along the ground, churning dead bits of leaves and yanking on the wind chimes that hung from Terre’s RV. Azaiel pulled the collar of his leather jacket up to his ears and peered into the gloom as a set of lights cut through the night.
It was nearly four in the morning. He’d just gotten off the phone with Cale, and the news wasn’t good. Cale had managed to dig up rumors that the unclaimed James witch was the most powerful woman born into the coven—if not the most powerful witch in the human realm. It was rumored her purported father was neither human nor otherworld but something else entirely—fae. Dark fae.
Cale hadn’t needed to reiterate the fact that Mallick could never be allowed to claim Rowan as his. With that kind of magick at his fingertips the dark lord’s power would more than double. And that was a modest assumption. Mallick would have the ability to sway the pendulum between the realms any way he wanted, and that was something the League could never let happen.
The balance must always be protected.
Azaiel watched the large Suburban park near the gift shop and frowned. He’d learned long ago that whispers of truth lived amongst rumors, and he had no doubt that Rowan’s blood father was fae. It explained too much—the fae that had been spotted in Salem. The undeniable power that Rowan harnessed. It even explained his reaction to her touch. Fae energy was unlike any other. It was seductive. Bold.
Priest exited the SUV, followed by Hannah and Nico. They didn’t see Azaiel at first, and he was surprised at the light banter between the shifter and the witch. She’d somehow managed to thaw the perpetual bad mood the jaguar usually sported.
He stepped down from the porch, and Priest stopped midstride. Nico and Hannah followed suit, and for several seconds, the three of them stared up at Azaiel.
“We need to talk,” Azaiel said quietly. Not here. He didn’t have to speak the words. They were all aware of the eyes and ears that listened from the shadows. There were witches everywhere.
Priest nodded and turned, signaling for Nico to follow. Hannah would have as well, but at Azaiel’s curt look she remained behind. “It’s not nice to keep secrets you know,” she mumbled.
The three men walked in silence for nearly five minutes until they’d cleared the James property line and were well down the country road. Out there, beyond the protection ward, the otherworld chatter that littered the wind was much more audible.
“What did you find out?” Priest ran a new cigar beneath his nose, offered one to Azaiel, and lit the end of his when Azaiel refused it.
“Cale and I are fairly certain that Rowan’s father is Dark fae.”
Nico shook his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and muttered, “Not good.”
Priest blew a perfect circle of smoke and nodded in agreement. “Do we know who?”
“No.”
“This changes nothing. We knew she was different from the others. Our mandate stands. She will die before we allow Mallick to take her.”
Heat burned inside Azaiel’s chest, and he thrust his shoulders back, widening his stance and glaring at Priest. “That is a last resort only.”
Priest nodded. “I agree. But you need to know I won’t hesitate to make it so.”
Azaiel’s voice dropped. “Are you questioning my loyalty?”
“No.” Priest shook his head. “I’m questioning your feelings. I see the way you look at her, which brings to mind another point.”
Azaiel didn’t like where the conversation was headed. Didn’t like that the Templar was hitting way too close to home. “And that would be,” he bit out.
“You can’t have her either,” Nico butted in, his eyes hard, his mouth tight.
Azaiel turned to the shifter and took a step forward, his hands fisted, his anger instant. Priest stepped between them, cigar stuck between his teeth and his hands held up. “Come on, boys, let’s keep this civil, shall we?”
Azaiel glared at the shifter. “Unless you know what you’re talking about, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”
Nico smiled, a cold, calculating lift of his mouth. “You won’t be able to lie to yourself much longer, Seraphim. Know this. I didn’t sacrifice my life to let someone like you fuck everything up. When the time comes, if you can’t take care of the witch, I will.”
Azaiel stepped forward, but Priest’s strong arms kept him from the jaguar.
