Ascended (War of the Covens 3)

They stared at her blankly for a moment before Reuben asked, “And why would the gods take away the trace?”

She threw up her hands in half-assed exasperation. “Because! The trace exists for one reason only—a weapon for each leader of each coven. If I’m the Head of both covens, then the purpose of its existence no longer endures! Surely the two traces would cancel each other out. The gods wouldn’t see a reason for us to have it anymore.”

The vamp and faerie stared at her for what seemed forever and then they looked to one another. Slowly but surely, a mirror-image grin spread on their faces. Reuben turned back to Caia, his eyes glittering with respect. “That’s brilliant, Caia.”

“You think so?” she whispered, feeling the first glimpse of relief and warmth shimmer within her chest since the loss of the pack.

“I more than think so.” He shrugged into his coat. “Right, we have to find the Prophet.”

18

The Prophet

The last few weeks had been excruciating to say the least. Patience, she discovered, was not one of her virtues. But at least she didn’t have to stay in that horrible place with Dee and her band of merry bloodsuckers anymore. Caia never would’ve thought she’d be so grateful to be invited by Nikolai to stay at his safe house. His safe house wasn’t a basement apartment full of blood and empty kitchen cabinets. Yes, the fridge in his safe house was filled with bags of animal blood belonging to Reuben (courtesy of a butcher—she wasn’t going to ask when he’d had time to visit a butcher, as she was realizing there wasn’t any point interrogating the most mysterious person she’d ever met), but the safe house was a modest-size beach cabin with no neighbors for miles. It was plush and luxurious inside, and Caia could lose herself in the sound of the surf while they anxiously waited for the Prophet to get back to them.

After leaving Dee’s lair, Caia had tracked down the Prophet in the trace. The old guy was in Greece, putting up his feet while the Midnights figured out just who was in charge now that Nikolai was AWOL. Tracking him was the easy part; it was getting a hold of him that was proving to be problematic. Caia wasn’t confident enough in her communication spell to travel somewhere she’d never been before, and she didn’t have Vil because, well, he was with the pack. Saffron could transform into a bird and fly there, but that would take days they didn’t have.

In the end, it was Nikolai who came to the rescue. Reuben called and asked him if he’d ever been to the Prophet’s place in Greece, and surprise, surprise, the Midnight had. Nikolai told Reuben to bring Caia and Saffron to his beach house, and he’d get the Prophet to come back with him to speak with Caia. And that was exactly what he did.

Caia hadn’t known what she’d been expecting. Okay. So she did know. She’d been expecting some withered old man with a long, white beard, wearing ancient Greek dress and banging around the place with a staff. Pretty much Gandalf, except Greek. The Prophet hadn’t been anything like that. He had been old … like, seventy old, but with a full head of pepper-gray hair and a trim physique. He walked like a man years younger, a handsome older man in white linen trousers and shirt. The dude was less Gandalf and more Sean Connery.

He’d been a charmer, all right. He’d approached Caia with a careful smile, his light eyes drinking her in from head to foot. Almost tentatively, the Prophet had taken her hand between the palms of both of his and shook it gently.

“So this is Caia Ribeiro.” He’d smiled, shaking his head in wonder. “You’re just what I imagined.”

That had amused her. “You’re the only one who pictured me like me. I think people were imagining … taller and, well … just taller.”

He chuckled warmly and nodded. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“And now you wish to speak with me?”

Caia gestured to Nikolai’s sofas, and the Prophet followed her to the seating area. He laughed a little at the way Reuben, Saffron, and Nikolai trailed them, barely giving them room to breathe.

“Nice to see you, Kirios.” The Prophet grinned at Reuben.

The vampyre narrowed his eyes on him. “Your last bout of information regarding the Septum turned into crap. That’s why you’re here.”

“Jeez, Reuben, are you always so rude?” Caia admonished and turned politely back to the Prophet. “Ignore him.”

“Ignore him?” Reuben spluttered. “Old man, you sent us on a twenty-year goose chase.”

The old man shrugged lazily but his eyes turned serious. “And yet here I am speaking with Caia. And she has something very important to ask me. Something that will matter. So … maybe the goose chase wasn’t really a goose chase after all.”