“As one!” Shogun shouted and simply nodded toward her-the private meaning implicit in his gaze.

Hunter spun, staring at his brother for a moment, and then released his assent in a deeper baritone that was just above a snarl. “As one, brother.” He turned back to face the stage slowly, his expression unreadable as he stared at her.

The sight of two alphas so near to mortal combat spiked insanity within her. Sasha dabbed the perspiration from her throat with the back of her wrist. It was a slow, sensual invitation to claim her vulnerable kill zone and she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d wanted to. Her body was on autopilot, her human losing ground quickly to her inner wolf. The more the alphas prepared for a lunge, the more they turned her on. Potential combat crackled in the air; the Fae were oblivious, but the wolf packs stood at the ready for a bloody brawl-waiting to see if instinct or alliances would win the silent struggle.

Breathing deeply, watching every positioning move of the dominant males in the room, she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Hunter squared his shoulders as Shogun tilted his head. She could see thick ropes of muscles coiling tighter beneath bronze skin, beneath dark walnut skin… They smelled fantastic, canines cresting, battle imminent. They were magnificent. The air suddenly became still and there was no sound, only her heartbeat, their heartbeats.

The human part of her brain tried to wrestle with reason, tried to tell her primal instinct that this had to be part of the bad juju that was affecting the area. She had to get out of Ethan’s bar. The energy here was dangerous for her, Hunter, most likely Shogun, too. But her wolf was hearing none of it. She studied both mating candidates carefully, the she-wolf within loyal only to natural law now-which one would be the dominant male… which one would produce the strongest heirs… which one would survive the vicious battle… which male would she mate for life. They seemed to know her questions, too; their understanding reflected back at her from the wolves in their eyes.

Ethan grabbing the microphone gave her a start and temporarily broke the spell. She watched Hunter’s shoulders relax as Shogun pulled back closer to his men. Sasha dragged her fingers through her hair and let out a quiet breath. Her body ached, but a sudden death match had been averted.

“We have a Shadow Wolf envoy going with me and my wife to get word of the outcome of this meeting to Sir Rodney,” Ethan said, seeming much more confident now that Sasha had swayed the crowd. “They will bring you return word about the state of his fortress. But we felt it would be completely irresponsible to leave, not inform all of you, and then come back to who knows what.”

whatever was happening to her was kicking her ass, big time. The adrenaline jolt, quickly followed by a fast diffusing of the wolf brawl, was sending her through changes that had her reeling. Sasha bent and placed her hands on her knees, gasping.

“You all right, lassie?” a huge Gnome in the front asked. Sasha looked up and snarled. “No. Not at all.”

The crone sat back in her chair, staring at Bradley and Clarissa, and laughed. “You two can’t pay me enough to do a divination on that subject. Seeing Faeries and Elves, ha!” She shook her elderly head, causing the huge golden earrings in her sagging earlobes to bounce. “Leave it be; let it rest. It’s an old fight. Sometimes you got to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Clarissa stared at the drawn, paper-thin skin of the reader’s face, studying each line in what used to be a tea-in-milk Creole complexion. Wisps of white hair escaped her lavender kerchief, making Madame Cottrell seem like a shrunken head wearing a wig. Giving up, however, was out of the question. Her second sight was waning fast and they needed answers.

Madame Cottrell smiled as Clarissa drew a breath to speak. “You’re a seer. So why you got to come to me and try and drag me into it?”

“Because, for some reason, my sight has been off ever since I got here… except for very surface matters.” Clarissa gave Bradley a look and he only nodded.

“Mayhap that’s ’cause there’s some things you ain’t supposed to see.”

“Maybe,” Clarissa said, baiting the elderly woman into a game of indirect revelation.

“What you know about the history of these parts?” Madame Cottrell asked with a toothless grin.

“That’s a broad question, ma’am,” Bradley replied with a droll smile. “We could get into the founding of the city, the Louisiana Purchase, the Civil War… or we could talk Vamp-”

“No!” Madame Cottrell said, slapping down her bony palm on the small oval table that divided them and making the candle on it wobble. “We cannot talk about them in here, ever.”

“All right,” Clarissa said, eyeing Bradley. She toyed with the crocheted tablecloth. “We could talk about the history of magick spells in the area.”

Madame Cottrell sat back, jingling her change purse. “That’s always been an interesting subject, especially during hard economic times.”

Clarissa nodded to Bradley, who immediately reached into his shirt pocket to produce a thousand dollars in ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. He fanned them on the table before the old Tarot reader like a card spread. The reader chuckled.

“That’s just about enough to give you a history lesson that will take you to a coupla months ago, but won’t give you much insight.” Madame Cottrell picked up the bills and neatly folded them away into her sagging bosom. “Now, let me see… how can I put this delicately?” She clucked her tongue and looked off into the distance as she picked up her cards. “Lotta years ago there was a struggle between the wee folks… didn’t start this side of the water.”

“The Fae?” Bradley said, glancing at Clarissa.

“Mmm-hmm.” Carefully shuffling the deck, Madame Cottrell took her time placing cards down in a Celtic cross spread. “Good ones and bad ones, just like people-good and bad.”

“Seelie versus Unseelie,” Bradley said, nodding.

“Oh, I see we’ve got us a resident expert, huh,” the old woman said sarcastically. “You ain’t as blind and dumb as you tried to make me think.” Madame Cottrell narrowed her gaze on Bradley and then smiled. “All the better. Saves me having to explain what I really shouldn’t be explaining, no way. But, yeah… the Seelie be the good ones, the Unseelie be the bad ones. Even the worst covens don’t mess with Fae dark magick-that’s why all of Louisiana decided to stay out of this recent row.”

Clarissa stared down at the cards and placed her fingertips on the edge of the card containing a burning tower. “It’s all coming down, isn’t it? The fortress… and old alliances. Just like in the cards… that’s what it means, right?”

“Ain’t nothin’ in stone. Can’t never be sure what people gonna do-but there’s three men about to act a pure fool,” Madame Cottrell said, pointing out cards with a hanged man, a knight surrounded by bundles of twigs, and a court jester. She then laid her finger on a card with a blindfolded woman who sat with two swords in her hand. “She’s gotta make a choice, hold her ground. Seems she got blades that can cut deep no matter which way she swings ’em.”

Both Clarissa and Bradley stared at each other.

“Something is driving the allies toward war,” Clarissa said. “And they are using a female as bait.”

“You said it, I didn’t… You’re the seer, child. I just read the cards,” Madame Cottrell said smiling. “Sometimes men lose their natural mind over a pretty woman. Sometimes a pretty woman gets a kick out of watching them scrap like dogs just for her. Then, once everybody done got cut up and kilt up and the cops come, she cries. That’s the sick part. Happens every day in the bars. Ain’t so uncommon. I ain’t tellin’ tales outta school,” she added, looking around nervously as though some unseen force might be eavesdropping. “Everybody’s got a weak spot.”