Destined (War of the Covens 2)

Marion nodded, turning back to Caia and Lucien. “Saffron’s right. They may be small, but to older members of either coven, they are a well-known warrior pack.”

Well, that explained that.

“Pierre is arrogant and young.” Caia stood to stretch her legs. She hadn’t been on a run in weeks, and it was telling on her body. “Which is why you don’t recognize him as an old warlock. I thought because of his ability to arouse such devotion that you may have heard of him, but I’m thinking he’s just very charismatic. His trace is malevolent, his prejudice against the Daylights extraordinary considering how young he is. And … I think he might be quite powerful. Some of the others seem afraid of him.

“From what you’ve told me, and from my understanding of Pierre’s character, wiping out a respected and feared pack of lykans would cement his reputation. Although I can’t feel it in his designs, he might use a victory like taking down the MacLachlans as a reason to take to the Council and ask them to make him regent instead.”

“When is this attack going to take place?” Lucien narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest defensively; the muscles in his biceps rippled. His body language had become so familiar to Caia—Lucien was preparing for war. The butterflies in her stomach, dormant for the majority of the conversation, fluttered into a riot. She knew this news was going to be the beginning of something. Something big. Something irreversible.

“Four weeks.”

Marion pursed her lips. “I’ll be back in five minutes. I have to speak to Marita. Come, Saffron.”

And the witch was gone, along with the faerie. Not for the first time, Caia envied their flawless use of the communication spell that allowed them to travel to an intended destination instantly.

I knew it.

This is big.

“You okay?” Lucien’s eyes had softened with concern.

“I’m fine. Just preparing myself.”

“For what?”

She snorted. “The apocalypse.”

Lucien grinned. “Let’s just make sure it’s them and not us that end up in the Underworld, huh?”

“Wow, talk about pressure.”

“I’m kidding.”

“I’m not.”

He sighed heavily and strode toward her. Her every nerve ending came to life the closer he got and then sizzled when he cupped her chin in his large hand, his eyes shining with faith and strength. “You can only do what you’re doing, Caia. Yes, you’re important to this war, but are you going to end it?” He shook his head, stroking her cheek. “One person can’t stop a war, especially when you’re not the one running the show.”

She nodded gratefully, trying not to melt into his embrace. Goddess, these last few months had been hard pretending not to want more from their relationship. Or friendship, as it were, she thought grumpily. She inwardly sighed as his hand dropped away, and he pulled back from her.

“What do you think Marion’s saying to Marita?” he asked, voice gruff, almost as if he’d been as affected by their momentary intimacy.

“Well—”

“I was relating the situation as it stands.” The magik suddenly appeared before them, minus Saffron.

Caia smiled at her. Like she had with the pack, Caia had come to know Marion well over the last few months, and despite her businesslike approach to everything, she had a penchant for mischief that was funny, depending on if you were her target.

“And?” she asked expectantly.

Marion’s smile faltered, and she drew her small shoulders back as if bracing for battle. “Marita would like you to play a part in the defense of Pack MacLachlan.”

Lucien growled. “Isn’t it a bit soon?”

“I want to.” Caia placed a placating hand on his arm, her eyes hard with determination. “I knew this was coming.”

“I’m afraid Marita is quite adamant about it. Anyway”—Marion turned to Lucien with a sarcastic smirk—“not to worry. She would like to meet you as well, Lucien.”

Caia frowned. “Wait. Are we going to the Center?”

Marion nodded. “As soon as possible.”

“And how are we getting there? I thought it was in Europe.”

The magik chuckled as if Caia had said the funniest thing in the world. “Really, Caia, you should know better than that by now.” At their continued silence, she seemed to sense that neither Caia nor Lucien had the patience for ambiguity. “Okay. We want you, you and Lucien only, to travel to the MacLachlans. Not to them, exactly. There is a gymnasium on Bryant Street called Magic Fitness—”

Caia snickered. “You’re kidding?”

Marion ignored her. “Go in as inconspicuously as you can.” She threw a pointed look at Lucien. “To the left of the front entrance is a doorway that takes you down a corridor. In this corridor is a studio room, studio number three. Go in and stand in front of the first pane of floor-to-ceiling mirror on the back wall. Caia, if you place your hand on the first pane, the mirror will recognize you as a magik. Take Lucien’s hand and walk into the pane.”