She allowed herself to relax and let the magik’s essence pour through her. A man. A young man. He was happy about something. It felt like love—he felt like he was in love. She stiffened again.
“Caia, what’s wrong?” Lucien reached across for her hand.
“Nothing,” she whispered.
And that was the problem. The young Midnight’s essence was untainted. There was no malice or hate in his soul. No bloodlust for war. And his wasn’t the first Midnight’s trace she’d felt this from. Why were there Midnights who didn’t seem to care about the war? There was no evidence of that black, syrupy pool of hate Ethan had reveled in, that Pierre du Bois and his followers swam in.
She wasn’t stupid. Caia knew there was no black and white in war, or in most situations, for that matter, but the centuries of beliefs and warfare had taken on its own soul, its own being. Daylights were supposed to want equality and peace; Midnights wanted the extinction of “lesser” supernatural beings they considered a threat to mankind. So why the Hades were there Midnights who cared more about the kind of puppy their fiancée might like than whether their Head of Coven had gone missing?
“Caia?” Lucien reiterated.
She shook away the trace at the sound of Lucien’s panic.
“I’m okay,” she reassured him.
“You look upset.”
Should she tell Lucien what she suspected?
Her eyes drank in his concern, her whole body warming over his distress for her. Lucien was a big believer in “Midnights bad, Daylights good.” He would think she was crazy or reading the trace incorrectly. No. For now, she’d keep quiet, and Lucien would keep smiling at her.
“Just nerves again.”
He snorted and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re nervous about. You’re like a god to these people. I, on the other hand, am the Alpha whose pack you chose over the Center.”
Caia laughed. “Yeah, I forgot about that. Hey, maybe you should be nervous.”
“Nice. Thanks.”
“Ooh, look, your loogie coffee is coming.”
“You’re cute, you know that? I think if you continue to be this cute, I’m going to leave you here to go out on a date with Melissa yourself tonight. I’ll send a postcard from the Center.”
“You can’t go through the portal without me.”
His answering look would have frozen water. “How much do muzzles cost these days?”
He couldn’t have been more relieved than when they finally pulled into the lot of Magic Fitness. The day spent in close quarters with Caia had been harder than he’d imagined. Lucien glanced at her as he parked. She was smiling nervously back at him, her long, pale hair pulled away from her face making her catlike green eyes seem larger and more vulnerable.
She should have been his.
He shook off the aggravating thought that settled a heavy rock on top of his heart. He was acting like a whipped pup.
“Ready?” he managed.
“Sure.” Caia nodded and climbed out of his truck.
They walked in silence into the gym, and he had to stop himself from taking her hand. Her anxiety was oozing out of her pores, and he had a feeling there was more to it than just the Center. Sometimes he thought it might be because of him, but she had gotten good at hiding her feelings. As far as he was aware, she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend and her Pack Leader.
So what in Hades was up with her? He was the one who should be nervous, as Caia led them through the gym to studio number three. No one approached them, despite how inconspicuous a huge, dark-haired guy and his tiny gorgeous blond companion were.
This was it. This was where he might lose whatever hold he had on Caia.
“We’re here,” she said, reaching to grab the gold door handle under the sign that said Out of Order.
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, readying himself. Her green eyes met his. Should I? she seemed to ask. His answer was a brief, stoic nod.
This was about more than them. That had been their problem from the start.
The door swung open and he followed as Caia tentatively entered the barren space. The mirrors were attached to the back wall just as Marion had said they would be. Lucien shut the door behind them and walked as quietly as he could to where Caia now stood facing the first pane of mirror.
She blew air out between her lips. “This is it.”
“Yeah.”
“Take my hand.”
He reached for her and they clasped hands, and slowly, as if moving in slow motion, she reached a slender arm out toward the pane. He saw her hand tremble, and he squeezed the one enfolded in his own. That seemed to spur her into action, and she laid her open palm against the mirror.
The atmosphere in the room charged and the air pressure changed; it felt like they had climbed too high. The floorboards creaked and shifted, and Lucien grabbed tighter on to Caia. And then his eyes widened in amazement as the mirror turned to liquid under Caia’s touch, her entire hand sinking through the mercury mass. She looked back up at him, smiling in astonishment and excitement, her nerves seeming to have disappeared.