Page 101 of Commanding Flame and Shield
Damien obliged, shrugging. “You know we’ll have her back. Let Ally take the lead for once. Aren listens to her. For someone who admires him so much, maybe you should take a hint.” I smiled softly, suppressing a chuckle, right as Jason draped an arm around August’s shoulders.
“Besides,” he flashed that mile-wide smile, “I’ve just been dying to sharpen my claws. What fun is a secret if there’s no one else keeping it?”
“Fine,” Marcus growled. “But so help me God, if you let them get to her—”
“There will be hell to pay,” Alec cut in. “Yes, they know. Let’s move this along.”
Three shimmering threads placed August and Alec right where I’d need them anyway, and those were the threads I projected for the coven to view and memorize.
“Alvara, this isn’t what we came here for.” August reminded me for the millionth time, straightening the deep merlot tie over his white button-up shirt. In the corner, Marcus’ old record player quietly hummed the vocals of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong singing, “They Can’t Take That Away From Me”.
“And if we withhold our help, Marcus will fall at the hands of the Renown.” I stated flatly. August groaned, the sound desperate. “Marcus has a wife—a mate—and two children to return to. I will not turn my back on him. And neither would you. Your power is strong enough to turn the entire evening around, if you let yourself.” He flicked those green eyes to me, and I knew he would find no trace of fear in my own. That he would scent the same confidence from me as his nostrils flared. “Remember. This is what I do, August.”
It was true. I stared down death more times than I could count, and my team had more than earned my trust. With August by my side, and the Westerlunds on high alert, ready to pounce at any of the triggers I’d shown them, we would all be fine.
August pursed his lips, unease still shining in his eyes. “I don’t like this.”
“I know. But this is who I am. Whoweare. In three hundred years, you won’t think anything of throwing me out like bait on a hook.” I flashed him a wink, but he flinched. I softened my expression, my voice along with it. “August, I have complete faith in you. In Alec and Aphaea. In Marcus, and his brothers. If a temporary risk is the price for saving my brother’s life, it is no price to pay.”
He nodded, but it was obedience, not confidence that shone in those emerald irises. To start, obedience would do. The visions assaulted my mind again, the thread where August was responsible for saving my life solidifying into a more concrete picture. I smiled up at him.
“See? Sixty-forty, you keep me alive yourself.”
He glared at me. “Not helping, Ally.”
“It’s helping me.” I snorted a laugh, and despite himself, August grinned. That beautiful, sincere smile I found myself living for, more and more with each day I saw it.
* * *
Lorenzo’s FineItalian Dining was a beautiful restaurant, tan stucco walls gave the entire room a great warmth that was enhanced by the abundance of vibrant dark reds and the fact that every metal surface shimmered gold. Black tablecloths covered the dining surface between each velvety, merlot booth. I marked the easiest exits, both doors and windows, and confirmed the numbers to match the visions. An old habit that didn’t intend to leave.
August’s hand against the small of my back was like a tether to this world as I honed in on my own battlefield calm. The energy of our group was palpable, and I felt the eyes on us from behind the open kitchen wall. The operatic Italian music seemed to grow quiet, at least muting within my own mind as it slowed down and went cold. Again and again, I walked myself through the thread that had grown most vivid. The others watching it play out in my mind.
I sat at the armchair at the head of the table, not missing the perceived authority it gave its occupant. Watching the vision on that chilly street corner, Marcus grinned when he saw me take it, internally reminding me that symbols have power. This was my mission—take it. So, I kept my chin tall, and shoulders broad as my hands settled on each arm. The smell of garlic and pasta was overpowering the presence we knew to be in the building. Any other time, I would have allowed the growl in my stomach to steer me towards food before this strike. But as a man in a black suit, with eyes as dark as obsidian sneered at me as he walked towards us, I knew our plan would unfold as quickly as we’d thought.
The demon’s energy was palpable, dark and warped within the skin suit. I flashed a grin back at the man as he moved our way, knowing it was all teeth, and that my power would be vivid in my eyes. Public assaults were never my favorite venture, as there was too much potential collateral, but the plan accounted for that, too. Fae, graceful as ever, walked towards the back of the restaurant to the hallway that held the bathroom. The possessed man eyed her warily, no doubt sensing exactly what we were without needing to be any nearer. It was the way he surveyed her, black eyes a dark contrast to his pale skin and honey hair, that told me he was indeed the head of this nest, and that he would know where we could find Adrastos.
The energy of the building spun into an eddy, tight and heavy at its center as the demon lost control of his glamour. The mortals around us set hands on their full stomachs, as though sensing something that reminded them of nausea. I kept my eyes on the possessed man, unwavering, power poking and prodding for any sign that the host remained. As the cyclone tightened its dark pull towards the back of the building, I sensed the others begin approaching to kick us out of the restaurant. With a smooth rise to my feet, napkin in hand, I blotted at my lipstick, giving Aphaea her cue.
Screaming ensued.
For a heartbeat, the puppet froze, glancing back over his shoulder. But when Aphaea’s distant, shrill, panicked voice shrieked, “Fire!!!” The resulting chaos was perfect, and I flashed a taunting grin at our adversary. He advanced.
Our table stood as the others began their panicked dash for the exits, each of us locking our eyes on our targets as they emerged from the kitchen and stairs to the basement, where our true aim and greatest challenge lay hidden. Fae repeated her panicked scream, and the guests began a sprint, knocking over glasses of wine, which lapped against the hardwood floor, and ripping the tablecloths with them as they fled. The metallic clatter of silver, and shatter of porcelain and glass became a cacophony within the room. Granite statues, we held our ground in the center of the restaurant, hands flexing as we each dove down into our power, to draw out our more lethal blows. The crowd parted around our long table like a river around an island, flowing out into the open air beyond us without noticing our lethal stillness.
And then they struck.
A whip of darkness lashed out for me first, and I deflected it with a flick of my wrist. The others braced shields to absorb the lethal whips of power.
Voice calm, unmoved, I demanded, “Where is Adrastos?” The name of nightmares. Confirmed after all this time. The puppet recoiled from the question, and I smiled at him, summoning all the sweetness I had left. “We’d like a word.”
“Bitch,” was the only insult the puppet could summon. I laughed, and the sound was echoed by my comrades.
“Very original.” Alec smirked, now facing the oncoming dozen attackers. That fiery swagger burned in his tawny eyes as he turned them on me. “Didn’t tell us we’d have a wordsmith on our hands, Al.”
Fae snorted as she strode back across the room, ignoring the two sentinels closing in on her position. They wouldn’t get a chance to touch her, and she knew it. The puppet glared at me and pulled out more vulgar insults in a string of profanity. I wrinkled my nose, allowing disgust to twist my features, as I pulled my power into my hands, bound together at my chest.
“Language, boys,” I hissed quietly. With that, I flung my hands out into a great wingbeat, power exploded from my chest, and the possessed bodies flew with it, bones crunching against the stone and stucco walls with a lethal finality. I snapped my fingers and the empty corpses ignited into roaring flames. Only the leader remained, staggering, snarling low and guttural, just as I’d anticipated. I flashed him a toothy grin, and our dance began.
