Ascended (War of the Covens 3)

Wow. She really was on her own now. But she’d been here before, and she could do this. She could do this alone.

At that, she spread open the paper and began investigating the trace. To her absolute relief, the first two were Midnights, one of whom was a member of the Council who had propagated the idea of a witch hunt against Nikolai. The other Midnight wasn’t nearly as prominent within the coven; however, he was equally a racist and believed in the rightness of the war. She let loose a long stream of relieved air. This was good. This was really good. No guilt for killing the bad guys, huh?

She straightened in her seat and touched the third name. Eliza Emerett. With a whoosh Caia was pulled into the girl’s trace, her essence dousing her in floods just as Laila’s had.

She felt sick to her stomach when she realized why.

Eliza Emerett was an eleven-year-old Midnight. An eleven-year-old innocent girl with no real understanding of the war. The only world she knew was that of her parents, the farm they owned in England, her horses Star and Pooka, the cat, Lightning, and the two dogs, Bob and Fred. And let’s not forget her imaginary friend, Nicky, who hung out by the old oak tree down by the stream.

The trace devoured her, refusing to let go, and Caia struggled, pulling and twisting to be released, the nausea of her find overwhelming.

She jerked back and felt her head slam against the wall behind the armchair. Reuben shot up from his half sleep and stared at her in concern. Saffron was slower to wake, but Caia waited for her to do so.

And then she pinned them both with a look that would fry their asses to the bed.

“You bastard,” she whispered.

He groaned, scrubbing his face before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned toward her, studying her face quietly. Finally, just when she thought she might change into a lykan and attack him, he nodded at the paper. “What happened? What did you find?”

She glared at him. “You really don’t know?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Eliza Emerett.” She stabbed the name on the paper with her finger.

“What about her?”

Was he deliberately being a jackass or did he honestly not have a clue what she was talking about?

She stood and he watched her warily as she approached him. Yeah, he better be wary. “She’s eleven, Reuben.” She threw the paper at him. “She’s an eleven-year-old Midnight. Her biggest fear is when her old dog, Fred, is going to bite the bullet!”

Saffron groaned and buried her head in her knees. Reuben swore and snapped up off the bed, crumpling the paper in his hand. “Nikolai,” he hissed.

Caia stopped, watching the tension ripple through the vampyre’s body. “You really didn’t know?”

“No!” He whirled on her.

“Wow.” She relaxed a little, seeing how upset the news made him. “You’re not so evil after all.”

He chortled but the sound was anything but happy. “Don’t kid yourself, Caia.” He sneered at her and held up the crumpled paper. “This wouldn’t stop me. Nikolai knows that. He seems to have forgotten, however, that we aren’t dealing with me. We’re dealing with you. And I know even threatening the pack couldn’t get you to kill a little girl.” He slammed a fist into the wall with a rare show of loss of control. “We are so screwed!” he spat, ignoring the crumbling plaster.

Caia looked at Saffron whose face was blank. “Well … at least he knows when he’s hitting a brick wall. I mean, metaphorically speaking. You know … I’m the brick wall. I won’t budge on the killing of a little girl and he gets that. You get what I—”

Saffron threw her a look of disdain. “You’re prattling. Shut up.”

She stepped back against the wall and let herself slide to the floor. “Where do we go from here?”

“Hades?” the faerie suggested dryly.

Caia made a face. “Not helpful.”

They stayed in tense silence for a while, avoiding eye contact. Finally, Reuben cursed again under his breath. “Why is this going wrong? This isn’t the way it should be going. That damn Prophet …”

Something niggled at Caia.

Reuben? The Prophet? Yes! That was it!

Caia’s head jerked up. “The Prophet!” She leapt to her feet in one fluid movement. “That’s it.”

Reuben frowned. “What’s it?”

She smiled slowly. “We need to talk to the Prophet.”

When they weren’t getting giddy with excitement like she was, Caia almost slammed their heads together. Then she realized she hadn’t actually explained what she was so excited about. It had been a long week.

“Okay,” she said hurriedly. “My original plan was to get the Council to take away Marita as Head of the Coven and have the gods replace me. That way I’d be in control of the trace and begin peace negotiations—I know, I know, how terribly naive. But what if we find the Prophet and ask him if he thinks the gods will take away the trace if I do become Head of both covens?”