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The Paragon hung up his call, then growled a long list of ice cream flavors. For a moment his glamour grew smeary. “Killian and Hazel are in Drake Hall,” he said. “They’ll get here as fast as they can, but Drake Hall is well outside Magiford city limits.”
“Queen Leila?” Noctus asked.
“Out on a Court tour,” the Paragon said.
“Try her dad, Lord Linus,” I called. “He’s in charge while she’s gone. Do you have his number?”
The Paragon opened his contacts and thumbed a number, then held his phone up to his ear.
We were halfway across the parking lot by this point, with Noctus leading us and the squad of elf guards guarding the rear—their weapons drawn and gleaming with magic.
“Noctus, put me down,” Ker gruffly said, her voice tightening with pain.
“Can you even hear right now?” Noctus asked.
Ker, blithely proving his point, wriggled in his grasp. “I’m not some drooly puppy that needs to be minded, I can take this kind of pain.”
Noctus bent over, and Ker landed on her feet, tottering a step as she winced—her ears had to be ringing. “Aristide, keep track of her,” Noctus said.
“Got it.” Aristide let go of me and reached out, snagging Ker’s arm.
Ker startled, then relaxed when she realized it was Aristide. She took his hand off her arm and instead clasped it, threading their fingers together. The contact seemed to soothe her as she gave in to the werewolf instinct for contact and crowded close to the vampire.
I backed up to give the pair some room and glanced up at the Cloisters.
Now that we weren’t underneath the front overhang, or directly next to the Cloisters, I could see the entirety of the building.
The Curia Cloisters was fairly sprawling, several stories tall, and constructed of very solid materials—brick and stone. The highest point of the building was the domed ceiling that covered the largest assembly hall.
At the apex of the dome was a flickering bubble of magic, colored deep red, but translucent enough to show someone was inside of it, standing next to a glowing smudge.
“There!” I pointed to the roof, then belatedly remembered Aristide. “Someone is on the roof—hiding in a defensive barrier.”
“That sounds ominous,” Aristide grumbled. He bumped Ker, who saw my pointed finger and followed it up to the roof.
The sight made her growl in her throat. “What do you want to bet that’s the fae we’ve been tracking hiding in there?” Her voice was a little louder than necessary, but she tilted her head back—scenting the air.
The elven guards exchanged rapid fire barks in elvish, and the Paragon yanked his glasses off so he could squint up at the roof. “Is that…?”
“Yes, he’s got an elven heirloom,” Noctus said.
“You can see it?” the Paragon asked.
“No,” Noctus said. “But the wild magic in the area is reacting to it.”
“But he’s a fae! I thought elven weapons couldn’t be wielded by anyone but their owner?” I desperately asked.
“Wielded, yes,” Noctus said. “But some royal weapons can be hijacked, so to speak. Use the right magic and techniques and you can harness it for a spell—though it takes forever to power up and as a result isn’t very worthwhile.”
“It seems not everyone agrees with your estimation,” the Paragon grimly said. “Where are the Cloisters Guards, and why aren’t the remaining defensive spells activating?”
“Because shadow creatures are spawning at the back of the building,” Charon grimly said.
He stepped out of the shadow of a truck, his hood off, sporting a cut on his cheek that bled a little and made his barely existent frown extra grim. His linen shirt was singed in places, and he held both of his handguns—barrels pointed to the ground.
“I knew the bloodshed would be impossible for Aristide to smell with the blood spell in the air, but I thought Ker would have heard…” Charon trailed off when he glanced at Ker, who glanced from him to the roof with worry but no recognition of his words. “The noise spell?”
“The noise spell,” Aristide confirmed.
