“Yes. But I was vague about what each one of us is, magically speaking. Elliot Graves doesn’t need a detailed rundown, are ye jokin’?” Niamh frowned. “He gets to know head count, and that’s about it. He can be surprised like everyone else.”
Given we hadn’t been told to stay home, he was apparently fine with that.
The crew waited outside the limos, dressed in pristine suits or flowing dresses, looking the part of a prestigious magical unit.
“Jet is standing by?” I asked, approaching Austin at the back of the group, standing beside his people with an air of patient confidence. Nothing but tranquil waters drifted through the link. He clearly wasn’t worried about the unfamiliar conditions we’d be facing or the danger from Elliot Graves and the other mages we’d be meeting.
“Yes. Waiting for us on the private magical airstrip.”
“How is that even possible, to have a private airstrip for magical people? That doesn’t make sense,” I mumbled, stopping in front of the shifters.
“It’s a private piece of land owned by magical people.” Niamh stopped with me. “We pay a fee to use it. Honestly, girl, where is yer head at?”
Kace stood beside Austin, his face hard and his onyx eyes tracking me.
I nodded at him, then nodded at Isabelle beside him. Good additions to the team.
I hadn’t met the guy next to Isabelle, though, and his whole vibe sent shivers racing across my skin. I backed up a step, unable to help it.
A wicked scar ran down his cheek and pooled under his severe jaw. Sharp cheekbones set off a narrow nose, ending in a little uptick that would’ve been cute on anyone else. His eyebrows rose over heavy-lidded eyes with long black lashes. He topped Austin’s height and then some, probably six-five, but his huge shoulders nearly made him look shorter. But it was his eyes that tripped me up. They weren’t just hard—they were off-kilter. When this guy looked at me, I felt like shrinking into myself and waiting for death. Pain lurked in those eyes. Imbalance. As though he’d been broken ten times over and had barely stitched himself back together.
“You remember Kace and Isabelle,” Austin said. I nodded. He motioned at the man on the end. “This is Brochan.” His name sounded like the word “broken” with a lilting accent. It fit perfectly, and I half wondered if he’d named himself. “He’s something of a unique situation. I hadn’t thought to include him originally because of his newness to the area, but after learning a bit more about his history, I figured he’d be a strong asset for our team.”
“Well, I didn’t send his name in,” Niamh said, bracing her hands on her hips. “What sort of unique situation? Because this isn’t the time for Jessie to be meetin’ someone new, and it definitely isn’t the time for some unhinged shifter to lose his marbles and act the bollocks.”
Brochan’s stare rose from the ground, where it had been resting after I had—quickly—broken eye contact, and narrowed in on her. Darkness moved within that gaze, raw and ruthless, setting me on edge.
Niamh’s eyebrows lowered. “Goin’ta give me that look, are ye? Don’t think I know yer type, do ye? I know what kinda guy sits in the corner, back to the wall, and drinks by himself until he staggers from the bar. And he’s not the sort we should trust in close quarters, especially since he hasn’t trained with Jessie these last few weeks.”
“I trust Austin’s judgment,” I said, feeling the urgency to get moving. We had to get on the road if we were going to make our time window at Elliot’s, between two o’clock and two eighteen. We needed to be punctual. “If Austin thinks Brochan is a good fit, I’m okay with that.”
“Well, don’t come crying to me if they don’t let him in because his name isn’t on the list,” Niamh murmured.
“Austin only brought three, so he’s clearly replacing someone. We’ll just give him that person’s name,” I replied.
“Shauna? He doesn’t look like a Shauna.”
“I don’t mind being a Shauna,” Brochan said. “Maybe Sue for short?”
“Yeah, fine, whatever. Let’s get going.” I made a circle in the air with my finger and turned for the lead limo.
Mr. Tom struggled to drag a large suitcase without wheels toward the open trunk of the middle limo.
“What do you have in there?” I asked, hurrying to help.
“My disguises,” he said as we labored to fit the suitcase into the space.
“Why do you need… What kind of…” I just shook my head and stepped back. “Fine, are you ready? We need to go.”
“Yes.”
Austin met me at the front limo. I stopped beside the open door, the driver waiting to close it behind us. Ivy House sat in the morning sun, large and hulking, a magical shadow hanging from it like a curtain.