“You know what-”

Hunter held up his hand. “Before you launch into a fullblown mental download, give me a minute. All right?”

Sasha blew out a breath, forcing a damp curl off her forehead. The shade from the tree gave a little respite, but not much. Her mind raced ahead of Hunter’s, unable to get the gears to slow down. She looked at the telephone, wishing that a signal could go through to Sir Rodney’s castle. Talking by cell phone by day didn’t worry her in this remote, sunny location; if it was Vamps, the only way they could intercept her call was at night or through human helpers.

Impatient, she dialed Ethan again, this time speaking to him more calmly as she let him know her list of suspects, which was pretty much every enemy they had in New Orleans. Although she talked on the phone to Ethan, she faced Hunter as she spoke. The message was really for him. He had to get this mental download; he had to help her figure out how many hands were in the pie at one time. More importantly, they had to figure out how to reverse the bad spell.

“They will not force my hand!” Sir Rodney shouted.

“But milord, we must employ patience,” Thompson Loughlin warned. He rubbed a meaty palm over his salt-and-pepper thicket of hair, adjusting his uncomfortable human businessman’s attire. “I have been to town; the humans are still unaware.”

Sir Rodney’s gaze narrowed. “Patience, you say? You heard what Ethan McGregor said that Sasha told him. Her humans saw the absence of a glamour on Fae archers at a diner! Ethan’s missive was fraught with histrionics! He had to shutter his doors at The Fair Lady to human patrons in the French Quarter, because none of his glamour is holding. Human workers are managing Finnegan’s Wake, and the bed-and-breakfast has been turned over to Sasha’s and Hunter’s squads to fend for themselves, man, because the Fae workers cannot be seen behind the counter. In the last twenty-four hours, something has happened, something insidious to speed up this dark magick, and we’re still chasing theories and ghosts!

“If the Seelie glamour is fading in the human streets, we must warn our people,” Sir Rodney said, pounding his fist in his hand. “Also, Sasha Trudeau’s list of suspects is formidable. At this point, who has done this is not as much a priority as how we can stop it.”

“Sire, we must find the culprits; they cannot go without redress,” his top advisor warned.

“But knowing how to stop it has everything to do with who cast this madness against us!” Sir Rodney shouted, totally contradicting himself. “How can you possibly come up with an antidote if you cannot even break the code on the sigil? If we know who our enemy is, then we know the extent of their capabilities… It’s as though they are one step ahead of us at every turn, as though they are reading our minds!”

“Indeed, sire,” his advisor said calmly.

The two men stared at each other in the king’s private chamber.

“Milord, as you are aware, this could cause an uprising amongst the citizenry, if they felt your power was fading, thus affecting theirs, and they were not duly warned. Two rare Phoenixes are dead, but that is not our fault, as tragic as that may be. No one could have foretold those events any more than humans could have stopped Jack the Ripper. But if our Fae community were to learn that you had foreknowledge of our weakening powers and did nothing to alert them so that they could seek shelter and safe haven, that would be grounds for impeachment, sire.”

When the king only looked at him, the elder advisor pressed on. “It is our primary responsibility to make sure that our constituents are safe from outside harm… That the wolves uncovered a sigil means that this is worse than we’d originally concluded. If those outside of the Fae community found a sigil, you know what that means… the perpetrators are baiting us, mocking us.”

“But who would be so bold…” Sir Rodney walked over to the high, leaded, beveled glass windows of his chamber. “Chaos magick is not just the province of the Unseelie Fae, but could be employed by strong covens, Vampires, any dark sorcerers. This is outright terrorism!”

“Milord… as we investigate, our first order of business is to protect our citizenry.”

A paranormal community emergency call had gone out to all the allies, and the result filled The Fair Lady with multiple Parliaments of varied entities. Time was too short to get everyone quickly to the Sidhe; Ethan’s place, reinforced by readied soldiers, was the best they could do with short notice.

Fae archers; burly Order of the Dragon riders and their colorful, silk ribbon-sleek mates; Pixies; Brownies; Gnomes-every ethnicity of Elves was present. All except the members of the shy, forest-dwelling Mythics, like Unicorns and Yeti, were in attendance-but even they sent proxy representatives by way of nature Sprites and Wiccan Whitelighters.

Phantoms moaned and hid within earshot inside the walls, while tiny Faeries danced gray plumes of fear amid the bar lights. There were so many paranormal leaders crowded into the main hall that there was now standing room only.

The establishment drew its shades to the human public as the afternoon sun cast golden prisms against the immaculate blond wood floors. A discreet sign was hung outside-PRIVATE PARTY-so as to not offend the limited human clientele or law enforcement. No Vampires would have been allowed, however, under the given suspicions. But that point was moot, since the meeting was strategically being held during the day. Only allied wolf packs were given admittance.

Sasha looked around the room, knowing that Sir Rodney’s worst nightmare had come true. The secret was out amongst the allies; it had gotten so bad that an executive decision had to be made-for the safety of his people and those who clung to his protection, there had to be some disclosure. Pure defeat filled her; she and Hunter had failed.

Ethan cleared his throat and tapped the stage microphone, trying to wrest order from the nervous patrons, while his bartenders passed out free drinks and overflowing steins of Fae ale to quell unrest and to make his message easier to absorb. The steely-eyed captain of the Fae guard awaited a proper introduction as Ethan tried to bring order. Then the door opened one last time and she saw him.

The sun framed Shogun with his retinue not far behind. His gaze hunted for her, found her, and locked on her with breathtaking intensity. Golden bronze, clean shaven, his hair an onyx spill down his back in sharp contrast with the white linen shirt and pants he wore. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him and her libido came to life with a vengeance though Hunter stood right next to her. Yet she couldn’t look away.

How could this be; why was this happening? Sasha felt like she was suddenly drowning in a well of emotions that made no sense.

This is insane, she thought to herself, casting her gaze to the floor while she struggled to breathe. Get it together, Trudeau.

Hunter’s attention had snapped to the bar’s entrance and now he tilted his head, narrowing his gaze. The two brothers nodded in strained recognition. Heaven help her-her inner wolf was clawing at her insides. whatever had affected Hunter earlier in the day, she now had a full appreciation of his agony. Her breasts had become heavy and tender in a matter of seconds, the tips of them stinging pebbles that ached so badly she had to ball her fists at her sides to endure. Sasha briefly shut her eyes. She craved touch; wetness betrayed her, engorged her till she bit her bottom lip.

Eyes forward on Ethan, ever the soldier, she stood at attention, watching the proceedings and hearing nothing. Her goal was singular-to get through the meeting without starting a Wolf war.

“Now that most of the leadership is assembled, we must make you aware of some strange goings-on that have some of us deeply concerned,” Ethan said, hedging. He waited until the crowd settled down more and shouts and calls asking what the gathering was all about subsided. “My two lovely Phoenix waitress showgirls were recently found flamed… without the normal transition back to their gorgeous human bodies.”