Cold Blooded

“Yes, Angie,” I said without turning around. “Let it go. If we fight, you lose.”

“I won’t lose,” she called. “I can promise you that. And when I’m done, I’ll—”

Rourke physically picked me up and carried me out the door.

Nick slammed it firmly shut behind him, muffling the rest of Angie’s threats, which included a hearty description of her talents in the bedroom. “Easy, Jess,” Nick said when he saw my face. “Just ignore it. She got in over her head and she couldn’t back down.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “She brought it on herself. A challenge is a challenge. You can’t expect me to ignore it.” Wolves didn’t back down from a fight. Ever.

Tally stood at the bottom of a staircase, her hands on her hips. “Angie is no threat to you, but her sister is. Leave it alone. If Magdalene had a vision, we need to see her now before it’s gone. You’re wasting valuable time.”

Rourke covered my lips in a quick kiss. He broke with a low growl and leaned in close, whispering, “I like you jealous.” He licked my earlobe and chills raced up my spine. “It’s sexy as hell.”

Tally tapped her foot.

I broke away, grinning. I wasn’t going to tell him it wasn’t jealousy that had motivated my reaction, because being sexy as hell worked for me. Not being able to have any alone time with my mate was testing my willpower on every level. The car ride home had been a torture of emotions and feelings, none of which we could act on, so right now I was willing to take what I could get. Sexy, jealous lover. Check. I turned, reluctantly tearing my gaze away from his clear green eyes, warm body, and delicious blond stubble, and headed down the long hallway. “Out of curiosity, who is Angie’s sister?” I asked Tally.

“Ceres.”

My brain filtered through the small information I had on her. “The Goddess of Crops?” I asked. Crops weren’t so scary.

“Fertility. And if you want to keep your mate, stay away from her. Her specialty is stripping libido. She’s a cranky goddess and Angie is her only blood-kin. She’s not like Selene. She doesn’t play with her prey. She leaves them crying and eternally deadened with one flick of her wrist.”

Jesus. “Good to know.”

We wound our way through the mansion, passing by room after room filled with plush carpets and ornate furniture. The house was a strange mix of Mediterranean meets Tudor with lots of gables and dark woodwork, with the addition of huge, airy windows. It had a pleasant feel. Two sets of staircases later, we entered a small room in the attic. I ducked my head as I passed through the low doorway. The boys had to physically bend over.

There, sitting on a bed covered in white chenille, was a toddler no older than three.

“Maggie,” Tally crooned. “Mommy’s here.”

3

“That’s a child.” The tot in question extended her pudgy arms out to her mother. Tally plucked her out of bed and skillfully perched her on her hip. The toddler was flushed, appearing to have just awoken from her nap. Her fine blonde hair stuck to her rosy cheeks. It was clear she’d been crying.

“Indeed,” Tally said. “She’s two.” Tally lovingly wiped her hair away from her face and planted a kiss on her forehead.

A baby soothsayer? I assumed this child was the oracle, since Tally had just addressed her as Maggie.

“Is she yours?” I asked. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but Tally was old by anyone’s standards—whether her face looked thirty or forty meant nothing. She had to be centuries old, gauging by her power alone. It radiated off her in currents that came only with age. I didn’t know the average life span of a witch, but I knew, like us, they aged slowly. No supe was truly immortal, and unless we obtained a godhood we could be killed a number of ways, such as by severing our heads or burning us alive. But the average mortality of a supernatural was thousands of years. “I mean”—I cleared my throat when she didn’t readily respond to my question—“not that she couldn’t be yours biologically, but I know witches adopt often.” Many Sects brought in children through legal adoptions.

“She’s mine,” she answered. “A witch is fertile once every year for her entire life. We are born of the earth and renew each year. Our problem is finding a compatible partner, like most Sects. It has been … difficult. This is only my second child and she is a gift. And if we don’t hurry, the information she has will be lost.” She turned and crooned, “Maggie, we’re going to play the Tell Mommy game, okay?” The child nodded and brought a chubby finger to her mom’s hair and started twirling. “Let’s get the crayons. This time we’ll color pictures. How does that sound?”

Marcy had never mentioned a cousin her own age, so it was a good assumption Tally’s other child was no longer living. Children of leaders were vulnerable for many reasons, but I wasn’t about to ask. We followed them into an adjoining room, which was clearly the playroom. Tally set the child down at a little white table decorated with pale pink flowers and grabbed a box of art supplies from a nearby shelf. Two other witches were already in the room.

“Maggie, did you see Aunt Marcy in your dreams today?” Tally coaxed, setting down an array of crayons and several sheets of white paper as she knelt by her side.

The child nodded as she picked a brown crayon and started scribbling circles on one of the blank pieces of paper.

“How did she look?”

“Boy,” the child murmured quietly.

“She was with a boy?”

The crayon stopped moving as the child’s eyes fluttered and her head tilted up toward the ceiling. When she brought it back down, her eyes were completely white—like when you pulled your eyelids up and rolled your eyes back to freak out your friend kind of white.

And they stayed like that.

I covered my mouth to stifle a yell, but not very well. My wolf bared her teeth in my mind and we took a step back, knocking into Rourke’s chest.

Tally glared up at us.

“Sorry,” I squeaked.

Nick was pale across the room. Shifters were concrete creatures. Witchiness of any kind made us uncomfortable. Rourke stood behind me, a low rumbling in his chest. We were all a little freaked out. Not because the child could harm us but because what she was doing was so creepy and unnatural.

“You must be quiet,” Tally snapped. “She only has visions when something pivotal in our world happens. This means something. And it’s no coincidence she asked for the female wolf. She could have the answers to where my niece is, which would mean—”