Caia stumbled out of the caverns, shaking uncontrollably. As she approached Penelope and Alfred waiting for her by the elevator with guards, she tightened the robe around her.
“What the hell is going on up there?” Alfred was yelling at the wall.
Huh?
Then Caia noticed he was pressing his ear, and she realized he was wearing one of the earpieces worn by some of the Center staff.
“Shut down the portals until we can sort it out!”
Oh goddess, what was going on?
Alfred threw up his hands in frustration. “Take those who have already gotten in into the court. But lock down those bloody portals before every Daylight on earth shows up!”
“Caia.” Penelope, pale-faced, came toward her and took hold of her arm to steady her. “Are you all right?”
I was until I saw you guys. “I’m fine. What’s going on?”
Alfred grimaced. “We have a problem.”
“I’m getting that. What’s going on? The gods took the trace back … I thought we would be good after that.”
Penelope shook her head. “The gods removed the bind from us all. We all felt it.”
“You did?” Caia asked, amazed.
“Yes. But it came with a message about you being Head of the Daylights and Midnights, of what you are and how you gave the trace back to the gods. The Center has been bombarded with supernaturals demanding to know what is going on.”
Holy Artemis. Oh, this was a problem.
“Do the Midnights know?”
Penelope grew even more wan. “I think we better talk to Laila.”
29
Method in the Madness
Frustration tickled beneath her skin as she skimmed another page. Nothing! The history section in this library sucked. Caia groaned and waved her hand above the table, a glass of water materializing in front of her. She gulped it down, hoping it would renew her energy.
The last few days had been exhausting. Along with the Council, she’d had to retell her story thrice over to large groups that visited the Center, demanding answers as to who she was and why the trace was gone. Caia wasn’t shocked. A good portion of the Daylights had known of her existence, but there were those who lived quiet lives away from the war who were blissfully unaware of her.
But now they knew, and they seemed to know a lot about her … including this miraculous power she seemed to have that no one else did. Some were hostile, but for the most part, she was a curiosity and pretty much their savior. Freeing them all from the trace had brought untold happiness to many. There were the more conservative supernaturals who believed strong leadership had been the key to winning the war, but for many, it had been an invasion of their privacy.
Once the excitement and buzz had quieted, however, the questions battered down on them. What next? Would the war go on as it was? Would the soldiers continue to train at the Center? Or was the idea to infiltrate the Midnights and find out how they were handling things?
For the Council, it was yes to all the above. Saffron had been sent in with a few other top faeries to spy on Orina Beketov and the Midnight Council. The report came with the good and the bad—the chaos of discovering Caia’s existence, that Ethan and Marita were dead, that the absence of the trace had put a temporary stop to Midnight attacks, days before their assault against the Krôls. The bad news was, Orina Beketov wanted to continue her war against other supernatural races and was gradually winning over a very confused Council.
The Daylight Council took this to mean the war would go on as it had and thus recommenced classes at the Center. Caia wasn’t as convinced. In fact, she had an entirely different idea. She knew from having had the trace for the past ten months that the Midnight Coven was saturated with people who would gladly welcome peace. An idea brewed in her busy brain, one she had imparted to no one, not even Lucien. But the library where she hoped to discover all she needed was proving infertile.
Ugh, she really didn’t want to have to turn to Reuben for this one. But it was looking more and more likely.
“You look annoyed.” Phoebe MacLachlan strode through the doors into the empty room. Caia found her dry tone somewhat relaxing after having been in the library by herself for hours.
She nodded and slammed the book shut. “I’m not having a good research day.”
The Rogue Hunter slid into the seat opposite her. “What are you up to, Caia?”
Damn the lykan. She was nosy and perceptive and persistent to a fault. She was also trustworthy, and Caia counted herself as one of the lucky few who Phoebe trusted and respected.
“I have a plan.”
“I’m listening.”
When Caia was done, Phoebe threw her a look that would’ve been a smile if the lykan had known what one was. “You need to look in the archives.”