“It was almost six hundred years ago,” Birth said. “A paragon wished to turn the balance in her favour. She used her power to attack us.”
“What happened then?”
“My predecessor died in a final battle against her,” Warrior said.
“The Eleven won, but at a cost,” Knowledge added.
“And if he does make a move…” I said.
“Attack,” Warrior said. “Fight back. Do not lose yourself to a paragon. They may consider themselves a higher power, but
we
are balance.”
“But the shifters have been able to harm me. Not physically, but in other ways. If this paragon turns the Senate against me, I’m screwed.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way,” Birth said. “You’re meant to survive.”
I thought of my conversations with Adam, the only living angel I knew. According to him, his daughter and I had survived the circumstances of our births for certain reasons, but it seemed as though those reasons had run their course. Maybe my good luck was running out.
“Have patience while dealing with this paragon,” Knowledge said. “It’s not enough to win.”
Then they all vanished, and after a second of distortion around me, I was back in the basement of the office building.
“Yeah, helpful, arseholes,” I muttered and turned to leave. Breslin startled me on the stairwell.
“Everything all right?” He looked me over with worry in his eyes as he did every time I’d met with the rest of the Eleven.
“Just another unhelpful conversation,” I said. “Do you know anything about paragons and what kind of power they have behind them?”
“I have some old documents that might shed some light. Come upstairs. You wanted to know about the protection over you.”
I carried on the conversation in his office upstairs. “The Eleven made it sound almost as though the protection over me might not count if the paragon comes after me because I haven’t been a part of the group long enough.”
“I’ve gathered from my research that the longer you spend as one of the Eleven, the stronger the protection becomes, almost as if it slowly becomes a part of you. And then when you get old or injured, it dies a little with you. It’s fascinating really, almost as though the protection is a sentient being. I know we’ve been aware of some of the details, but most of it’s been forgotten, most likely,” he admitted. “I wasn’t around for Baba Yaga’s early days. Not even close. She lived a very long time. She had probably forgotten what it was like to become the Matriarch by the time she passed the job on to you. And she didn’t have to deal with her own fear very often. She was a hag, a particularly infamous one. The world feared her.”
“I really need to get scarier,” I said, flipping through a book on his desk. “If the Senate turns on me, things will get bad quickly. I wish Phoenix or even Elathan would come back and just… fix everything.”
“You think they would side with you?”
I shrugged. “Elathan has a soft spot for Esther. He would at least speak for her, and he’s pretty scary himself when he feels so inclined. I definitely think he could help her. And Phoenix is…” I thought about it. Phoenix had been kind of a friend until he’d distanced himself. I knew that if Lorcan wanted to help me, Phoenix would back him up, but if the paragon gave Phoenix an ultimatum—maybe by saying he had to choose me or the werewolves—I was pretty sure I would instantly earn myself a new enemy. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m feeling a definite lack of friends on the Senate right now. The regular government is just happy to not have to deal with the crap the Senate covers.”
“What about Shay?” he asked. “He’s a useful ally.”
“Shay quit the Senate for a reason.” I wasn’t exactly sure what that reason was, but I could guess he wanted to get away from the intrigue, not be dragged back into it. “He’s my last-resort ally for now. I don’t want to put him between me and the Senate if it comes to that.”
“Does it have to come to that?” Breslin asked, adjusting his glasses. “Does it always have to be you versus whoever?”
“It just works out that way sometimes,” I said. “Willow asked me to be an advocate for those without a voice, to speak for those the Senate won’t listen to. That just goes really well with being the Matriarch. Maybe that’s how I meet my next lost soul.”
“Still waiting?”
I frowned. “Maybe I’m not doing it right. Should I go looking? Do I track them down?”
“They tend to come to you,” he said. “When it’s time, it’ll happen. And perhaps I can serve as a hand to you when you’re dealing with this advocacy idea. The notion appeals to me, I must admit.”
“I’d be happy for the help. You know, that supernatural register still exists, and people have been turned away from the country for being too dangerous. If that register had existed when I first came into the light, I wouldn’t have passed muster.”
“And you want to make sure everyone has a fair shot.”
I pressed my lips together. People like Esther and Val would never have had a chance, either. And Jess had told me about the way people secretly helped and protected each other on the streets of Dublin. How many other people were still in hiding, terrified of the register and terrified of being exiled? Willow and Vega were both on the right track. The vampires and shifters didn’t need our help. Those without a pack were the ones who really needed help.
Breslin helped me dig through his dusty old books for answers. We didn’t find much we didn’t know already. The paragons had been set up for almost two thousand years, and they had an army behind them, stationed all over the world. I wondered if any were in Ireland, just waiting for a call to arms.
The untethered were another story. We found stories of feral shifters with nobody to tether them, nobody to keep them sane. Most of them were injured in some way. Many of the stories seemed to involve a kind of madness, as though the shifters degenerated without a pack to support them. But I couldn’t imagine Esther ever ending up that way. Despite her injury, she had no trouble living amongst humans. And Val had spent years alone with Leah, keeping them both safe. The untethered agenda was a blatant fabrication.
But a nagging feeling in my gut made me wonder if it wasn’t right for a shifter to be alone. Maybe Esther would eventually succumb to madness without her brother to keep her safe. And then there was the fact that Esther’s heritage came from a different continent. Was her existence an upset to the balance? And if I was actual balance, did that put me at odds with her?
For the first time, I felt a pang of fear that I would end up facing the kind of ultimatum that I imagined Phoenix would be forced to fulfil. If it came to balance versus any of my friends, I worried the Eleven would expect me to reset the balance at the cost of my friend’s life. Or worse, they might deal with the imbalance themselves and come for her in the dead of night, without warning.
My stomach bottomed out. The very things that protected us might one day be the thing that separated us forever.
Chapter Six
A couple of days later, Willow called to inform me that Mac still hadn’t reappeared, and the Senate were starting to show concern. “I’m sure the silly sod is just hiding out, but we’re already down so many seats right now that it’s worrying.”
“Nobody’s heard from Phoenix or Elathan, either,” I reminded her.
“It’s likely a panic over nothing. I just thought you should know.”
But it played on my mind until Peter called me later that afternoon.
“Got some news. Thought you might wanna know,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked. “Has Mac shown his face yet?”
“Not to me. Val got an address out of those shifters. They were a bit cold to her when she approached them, but this morning, one of them contacted her.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
I could hear his amusement over the phone. “He said Daimhín confirmed Val’s story. Apparently, she confirmed that the hellhound has been looking for a way to escape you for ages.”
“Escape me? What, like moving onto fae territory?”
“Whatever Daimhín’s game is, it worked,” he said. “She helped us, whether she meant to or not.”
“She doesn’t help for free, which is something we should probably worry about.”
“Worry tomorrow. Wanna come with? We’re checking out a farm in Meath. It’s supposed to be a favoured hangout for new pack members, but Val didn’t like the vibe she got from Daimhín’s bodyguards, so it could be trouble.”
“Sounds interesting. Yeah, I definitely want to see this for myself. No luck on any of the other leads?”
“Turns out there are no other leads. Nobody’s seen any of the free shifters, or those closest to them, for quite a while.”
That took me aback. “They’re
all
missing?”
“Not necessarily. From what I hear, all of their belongings are gone, too, so they could have decided to run. I’m sure we’ll find out what’s really going on soon enough. We’ll pick you up in an hour. Be ready.”
I changed while I was waiting. I was curious about the farm. Was it a hideout or a meeting place, what had made the shifters decide to help Val, and why the hell had Daimhín suddenly decided to pitch in?
Likely her perverseness kicking in.
I couldn’t get in touch with her until night, anyway. Her current assistant was a volunteer, and I didn’t trust the man’s word. Humans could be manipulated—and unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones.
When Val and Peter arrived to pick me up, I sensed the anticipation in the car. The scar on Peter’s chin deepened as he spoke, and his hazel eyes glistened with excitement. He’d rolled up his sleeves, displaying muscular, hairy forearms and the occasional flash of the crosses tattooed on his wrists.
Val was barely containing her hellhound half. Her shoulders bulged into a half-shift, and the bumps that ran from her forehead down to the nape of her neck kept sharpening and disappearing again. They were both looking for trouble, and I would have to be the boring one who kept them both on a leash, especially if we bumped into Mac. He had likely wound us up in the hopes that we would attack first and give him a reason to get rid of us for good.
After well over an hour of driving, we pulled up outside a massive gate surrounded by thick, unkempt hedges on an isolated country road.
“This is it,” Val said.
“There might as well be a sign outside calling this a trap,” Peter said.
I got out of the car and stood inside the open gate. A winding dirt track led toward several buildings, which were more barn than farmhouse. Beyond those were empty, sloping fields, and I barely made out the outline of a small cottage on the horizon. Most importantly, there were no cars and no signs of life nearby.
So why did the shifters send Val here?
Peter leaned out the window. “Might as well do this properly.”
“And when we get done for trespassing?” I asked.
“The gate’s open, and Val was invited.” He grinned. “In for a penny.”
I got back into the car, and we drove through the gates and up the dirt track to the first barn.
Peter slowed then cut the engine. We all got out of the car. The barn was locked. The padlock and chain seemed excessive, given that the farm was in the middle of nowhere. It was decrepit, too. The only sign of life was the well-trodden path of flattened earth leading up to the doors.
Val pushed Peter out of the way and gripped the chain and lock. With a grunt, her shoulders expanded. I knew without looking that her eyes had turned red. She yanked the chains apart in one swift movement then flung the pieces aside. I gaped at Peter, who shrugged in a helpless gesture.
Val pulled open the doors before I could stop her, but the barn was completely empty. Still, something bothered me. I reached out with my other senses and spread out, trying to find signs of life. Many lazy spots of energy clustered beneath us.
“Underneath,” I said after a moment. “There are people underneath the barn. Shifters. Be careful,” I warned as the others immediately began their search.
The barn was full of dried-up hay and old tools, but I caught sight of footprints in the dust. I followed the trail to where it ended at a pile of musty-smelling sacks. I kicked them out of the way, revealing a trapdoor. I pulled it free, hearing the others make sounds of surprise behind me. The way below was dark, but I could make out steps.
“One of you stay and keep watch,” I whispered then nodded when Val made to follow me. Peter looked impatient, but he didn’t complain.
We descended the damp-smelling stairs until we reached the bottom. After a moment, my eyes adjusted to the weak lights illuminating a wooden hallway.
“This way,” I said under my breath, taking the lead. Something pulled me onward, telling me I was supposed to be there. Maybe a lost soul needed me. I crossed my fingers.
Please let me be in time.
Partway down the hallway, we began to find heavy wooden doors with crudely cut narrow openings large enough to see through. Behind the doors, people lay on beds, weak and unconscious, but breathing.
“Shifters,” Val said.
“Free ones, once,” I guessed. “Go upstairs and tell Peter to call Shay immediately. He needs to see this. Ask him to get in touch with Willow. She’ll want to know about this.”
Val left at once, and I carried on the search. The doors were all locked, and I could have easily found a way to unlock them, but the people within were safe for the moment. I needed to make sure Shay saw the entire scene as it I’d found it. If the makeshift prison was Mac’s doing, and he’d intended to keep Esther there, then he was in trouble. Our find could solve all of our problems. But then I remembered that the shifters had willingly sent Val to the farm.
To ambush her?
Being held captive would kill Val. I made a mental note to punch Mac right in the nose next time I saw him.
At the very last door, the occupant was stirring, moaning as if waking from a disturbing dream.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ve found you. You’re safe now.”
She blinked a couple of times and found me at the door. She seemed to understand I wasn’t a shifter or a risk to her because she nodded then murmured, “Others.
More
.”
“I’ll find them,” I promised her, and she fell back asleep.
I raced back to Val and Peter, my stomach turning. “I’m going to check out the other buildings,” I said. “One woman was starting to wake up. Keep an eye out for Shay, and be careful in case the shifters planned for Val to come here and get locked up herself.”
“Scumbags,” Peter said hoarsely. “They deserve—”
I squeezed his arm. “They’re found out now. They won’t get away with this anymore. This is a win, Peter. Nobody can defend this crap.”
Val went to check on the women while Peter stayed at the front door to keep watch. I took his car and drove out to the next barn. It was falling apart, apparently succumbing to the last storm. There had been a trapdoor inside, but it was completely collapsed. I really hoped nobody had been in there.
I travelled on to the final barn then, dreading what I might find next. The door was already open, and a sack of rancid meat had toppled over outside. Wary, I crept into the barn and found the trapdoor. It had been ripped open.
“Weird,” I whispered. I felt as though I were walking into a trap, but a desperate need to know made me keep going. Shay was on his way. No matter what happened, I would free those people.
Downstairs, there were more cells. My stomach sank as every cell I passed revealed female occupants—all heavily pregnant.
“What the hell?” I said under my breath. Then I heard movement from one of the cells. I chanced a look within. The pregnant woman inside looked deranged. She screeched when she saw me and flung herself at the door. Her scalp was visible under many bald patches, and her face was full of scratches. Her claws were present, as though she couldn’t quite stop the oncoming shift. I backed away, terrified that the woman might harm herself because of me. If so many of the shifter women were pregnant, then it had to be by design, but that one poor woman looked absolutely insane.
I swallowed hard. Was that what untethered really meant, or had she been tormented?
I made my way upstairs again, sickened by what I had seen. I sent Peter a brief text, describing what I had encountered, but I switched off my phone, unable to stomach talking about it or saying the words aloud. Mac was sick, and he would pay.
Just to put the barns behind me, I moved on toward the run-down cottage in the distance. Filthy off-white net curtains hung across the broken windows. I got out of the car, needing to breathe fresh air. But I caught the scent of death instead.
A shiver of fear ran down my spine as I moved toward the cottage. The stench only intensified. The cottage hid death in its midst. At the doorway, I hesitated. The door had been torn off the hinges. And the distinct smell of old blood surrounded the frame. Splashes of it decorated the dirt, drying in place in a strangely hypnotic pattern.
I forced myself to step into the cottage. My eyes watered as the worst of the smell hit me, and my stomach roiled. The decaying body on the dusty floor before me had been there for days, probably since the meeting with the Senate. Mac’s eyes were wide open and glassy, the only part of him unmarked. His mouth was distorted into a frozen image of terror, and a chunk of his cheek had been ripped away completely.
Or eaten.
Somebody had tortured the shifter alpha. He was almost naked, his potbelly relaxed in death. I lifted the collar of my T-shirt to cover my mouth and chin in a vain attempt to stave off the smell as I moved closer to the body. Most of his body was bitten, scratched, or otherwise injured. His chest was bruised and covered in deep scratches and some kind of friction burn. Purple welts marked his wrists and ankles. His arms and legs were broken badly. The bite marks looked savage and many had ripped flesh free, too.
How many of my friends had wished him harm over the last week? We were in trouble. A killer was out there, torturing men and leaving women trapped underground. Had Mac been the perpetrator at all? Or had he caught the true criminal in the act? I couldn’t make sense of the scene.
The smell overwhelmed me, and I had to run outside. I dry-retched, barely noticing a car approach. I assumed Shay had turned up to view the scene, but when I looked up, I saw a group of shifters.
The leader sniffed the air, puzzled. “Death,” he said, and ran into the cottage.
The other four surrounded me.
“Relax.” I held up my hands. “It wasn’t me.”
“Mac’s dead!” came the shout from inside the cottage.
Strong hands gripped me from all directions. I struggled against the muscular arm around my neck, but it was no use—I was outnumbered. I really hoped Shay was on his way.