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“Well, let me know if something pops up,” I say. “I need to protect what’s mine.” My land. My clan. And Tamsin.
“I will,” Fitz assures me. “But really, it might be best to pray they don’t find you.”
“I’m not sure I have that luxury.” I let out a small groan.
“Take care, my friend,” Fitz says, his tone worried. “I shall redouble my efforts, and report back if I find anything that might help you.”
“I appreciate it, Fitz.”
I hang up the phone and curse out loud. I’ve been in some tough spots, but this one is climbing the charts. My brain is still having a hard time comprehending the existence of such a being as Darkness. I mean, I’m a warlock who turns into a dire wolf, so it shouldn’t be shocking. But there’s supernatural, and then there’s… whatever this qualifies as. It’s a category all on its own.
And Tamsin has gotten herself tangled right in the middle of it.
Not that it’s her fault…she couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. If Fitz’s friends hadn’t shown up to help her, she’d probably still be the Night Guild’s prisoner. I’ll have to find out everything she knows. This has blown up into something way bigger than I anticipated.
Most men would turn and run in the other direction. But the knowledge I’ve gained doesn’t scare me. It just makes the desire to protect Tamsin burn even brighter. I would face a hundred ancient beings to protect her. I’ll face Darkness and Death and whatever else comes for her. Because I’ll be damned if anyone… or anything… is going to take her from me.
It’s time to prepare for war.
I send a magical summons to my entire clan, and within a half hour there are several dozen warlocks gathered in the great hall of House Blackstock. It’s a room that stretches from the front of the house to the back, with windows overlooking the lake beyond. Windows from which I can clearly see MacPherson House. A giant fireplace roars at the other end of the room.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” I call once everyone has arrived. “I know we all have lives and jobs, and I do not do so lightly. But the Highland clans face a grave threat.”
My eyes scan over my men. We’ll need to get word to the witches as well, but that will have to go through Tamsin.
“You have all no doubt heard of the Night Guild.”
A murmur of assent moves through the room, along with grumblings of dismay.
“They have attacked one of our own. She escaped for the time being and is now seeking refuge here. Tamsin MacPherson.”
The rumble through the crowd grows even louder. Everyone remembers Tamsin. Many of us grew up together, and the older warlocks remember her parents. There are certainly a handful of younger ones who’ve never met her but have heard the tragic tale of her parents’ death, and the near-empty house across the lake.
“What do they want with poor Tamsin?” calls one of the older warlocks.
“The Night Guild is running a supernatural blood bank to sell hybrid blood on the black market. It’s worth a fortune. Unfortunately, they’re not opposed to creating their own hybrids by abducting witches, warlocks, and others, and turning them into demons.”
Someone curses out loud, but mostly I am met with shocked silence.
“Tamsin specializes in blood research. They took her and her sister against their will to get her to work for them.” I pause. “But that’s not even the worst part. We now know the identity of one of the leaders of the Night Guild. It’s this information that caused me to summon an emergency meeting.”
The noise in the room increases again and I raise my hands so I don’t have to yell over them.
“The leader that has been identified is Darkness. She is a powerful being, likely older than most supernatural beings in existence now. She’s incredibly dangerous, and while some of you know I’ve set up patrols around our perimeter, and we’ve already handled one spy caught snooping around, it’s only a matter of time before Darkness figures out that Tamsin is here.”
“We need to tell the other covens, too,” someone calls.
I nod. “Agreed. But I wanted Clan Blackstock to hear it first.”
“What do you think will happen, Chief?” someone else asks. “Will there be a battle?”
“I think that’s quite likely,” I say, “Though I sincerely hope it can be avoided. But a threat to one of us is a threat to all of us. We must approach this head-on.”
“Is Tamsin still one of us, though?” calls a familiar voice.
My eyes narrow as I find the source of the voice. Aengus. He stands a few feet away from me, arms crossed over his chest, eyes burning into mine. Fury stirs in my chest.
“Are you asking, Aengus, whether MacPherson is one of the Highland clans?” My voice is low, the threat of storm clouds.
