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  “If you want to stay with her, you can,” Liam said, pausing before pulling out of the parking lot.

  I shook my head. “The bullet’s out and it didn’t hit anything major. The poultice I put on her will help it heal faster. There’s nothing I can do about the iron poisoning, but it was just the one bullet. She’ll feel sick for a while, but if she gets a good night’s sleep, she’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  Liam nodded and pulled out his phone to check his messages. “Well, the car’s a dead end. They found it abandoned near Mount Pleasant.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Underhill might have shut down, but a company like that would have safe houses in the city. Not to mention they’d know of at least a dozen places to hide out off the grid.”

  I twisted the metal zipper on my waist pouch, pursing my lips in thought. “Connor wasn’t with them. Kylie said there was one werewolf at the crime scene. If that’s true, it’s possible Kurt and Toby weren’t involved with Jamila’s death. The Emperor could have hired Connor specifically.”

  “That would make sense if his brothers weren’t lying,” Liam agreed. “If Connor was struggling to adjust, he might leap at the chance for violence.”

  I looked at Liam as a new thought began to form. “Let’s say his brothers weren’t lying. Connor is on edge, he needs action. Not the kind of action you can get from working out, or sports, something that feeds his savage side. A fight. Something simple, something fast. Just to take the edge off.”

  Liam rubbed a hand over his face. “There are any number of places he could do that. A werewolf looking for a fight can find one easily in a city like this.”

  I leaned closer. “But this particular shifter worked for Underhill. Underhill who had a business arrangement with a certain wizard. A wizard who ran—”

  “A fight club.” Liam stared at me. “You think Connor is at Fortuna’s?”

  “I think even if he’s not there, Fortuna’s is exactly the sort of place one might go to hire someone for a murder. If we don’t find Connor, we might find someone who can point us in his direction.”

  Liam nodded slowly. “And Mount Pleasant is on the way to Fortuna’s from their apartment. It fits. They’ve got a head start on us, so we’d better hurry.”

  I leaned back in my seat as Liam headed for the racino. Despite my reassurances to the alpha, I was worried about Scath. Iron poisoning could be deadly for fey. If she needed more help, would she call me and ask for it? She’d seemed fine, but what if she was just putting on a strong front?

  “She’s fine,” Peasblossom said gently.

  I glanced up at the pixie hanging from the rearview mirror, fuzzy-slippered feet dangling in the air. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “Scath is very strong. And the bullet wasn’t in her body long enough to cause much damage. She’ll feel nauseated for a while, but she’ll be fine.”

  I tried to relax as we drove. Liam was healing faster now. Which was good, because Goddess only knew what would be waiting for us at Fortuna’s. I was actually feeling pretty confident.

  Until we pulled into the parking lot.

  I stared at the building that had once housed the main casino. “When did that happen?”

  Liam followed my gesture to the front doors. The glass was cracked, giving the impression the doors were covered by thick spider webs. Inside there was nothing but darkness. No lights, no signs of movement.

  “This doesn’t bode well for the club,” Liam commented grimly. “If it’s that bad up here, what’s happened down there?”

  He parked in the lot between the main building and the parking garage. There were no cars to challenge him for a spot, and when I looked inside the parking garage, there were only a handful of vehicles there.

  An uneasy feeling rolled through my stomach as I climbed out of the truck, and I jogged to Liam’s side to catch him before he headed inside the parking garage.

  “Hold up,” I called out.

  Liam paused and turned. “Problem?”

  “No. But you’re right, I don’t like the look of the casino. If the main building is that rough, then I’d imagine we’ll find worse in the club. Best to go in prepared.”

  I put a hand on his chest. His muscles tensed under my fingertips, but he didn’t pull away.

  “Benedicite.”

  Energy flowed from my fingertips over Liam’s body, tracing fine paths over his skin, then sinking through his clothes, into his flesh. I tried not to focus on the fact that I couldn’t see it happen. No purple light that should have told me my spell was working. No third eye, no visual magic. Like some sort of metaphysical trust exercise.

  Liam inhaled deeply. “What was that?”

  “A blessing. A little boost to help you be the best you that you can be.”

  I held my breath, waiting for him to object. Technically, I should have asked him first, before I used magic on him, even if it was friendly. Thankfully, he didn’t look upset. Not at all. In fact, I would have sworn he leaned closer.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “You can stop touching him now,” Peasblossom pointed out.

  I blinked, only then realizing that I was still pressing my palm over his heart. Was it just me, or did he feel warmer? I dropped my arm and stepped back, offering a weak smile. “Ready?”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  His voice sounded gruffer than before, and I forced myself to ignore the small thrill in my stomach. Nerves, it’s just nerves. “The spell works on me as well. Let’s go.”

  A cool breeze curled around us as we left the casino and made our way into the parking garage. It was the last week of September, and in Ohio that could mean seventy degrees or twenty. Tonight was a pleasant sixty degrees, so I was comfortable in just the leggings and long-sleeved black knit shirt. Of course, Liam’s aura helped too. Like having a moving campfire.

  Maybe if I’d been more uncomfortable, I’d have paid more attention. Maybe I would have walked slower and received a warning.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have found myself tumbling forward as my foot met empty air where the cement floor should have been.

  Chapter 8

  I flailed my arms out to the sides, trying to grab onto something to stop my sudden fall. My left hand struck cold, broken cement, and I hissed in a sharp breath as my skin split.

  “It’s a short fall,” Peasblossom barked out. “Brace—”

  I hit the floor on my feet and immediately hurled myself into a roll—thanks to Peasblossom’s warning. My senses swam with a barrage of new stimuli, sights, sounds, and horrible smells. I choked, barely avoiding getting sick all over myself as I regained my balance in a crouched position.

  Blood. Blood everywhere, blood and worse things. Someone’s intestines had been perforated. Or ripped out. And, blood and bone it was too bright. Why did I hear a crowd roaring?

  Literally, roaring?

  “Shade, goblin at twelve o’ clock! Gargoyle at six!”

  There was no time for a plan. I put my faith in my familiar and dove toward the three o’ clock position, summoning my magic as I did so. “Effingo!”

  Six illusions sprang to life, each one a perfect Shade clone. Anyone who wanted to attack me now would have to choose. Hopefully, it would buy me time to get my bearings.

  “You’re in an arena,” Peasblossom told me, flying somewhere over my head, careful not to give away which of me was the real one. “There are three arenas. Caged off. Battles in all of them. You’re standing between a goblin and a gargoyle.”

  I let all the information flow through my brain as I swiveled my gaze back and forth, finding the goblin and gargoyle. The goblin grinned from ear to ear, red eyes shining under the lights—crimson orbs a perfect match for the blood pouring over his yellow, papery skin from the slash across his left eyebrow. His face lit up when he saw me.

  “It’s the witch!” he crowed, his high-pitched voice threatening to curl my nerve endings into knots. “It’s the witc
h!”

  My heart sank as I recognized my cage-mate. It was one of the goblins Flint had brought in for my training. One of the goblins who had wanted so badly to fight with me again. At my side or against me, it didn’t matter. I’d developed something of a reputation among the goblins. A reputation I didn’t want.

  Across the room, another roar went up, a rush of excitement that exceeded the previous chaos. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the monsters in my own arena, but Peasblossom was already ahead of me.

  “Liam landed in arena two,” she shouted. “Fellow combatants one harpy and one werewolf!”

  The goblin—Joker, he called himself—studied me and the images around me, beady red eyes trying to discern which was true. The adrenaline pounding through me was not my friend, nor was the disorientation trying to scramble my thoughts. Blood and bone, as if my head didn’t hurt bad enough from the skewering of my third eye.

  The gargoyle didn’t spare me or my decoys more than a brief, dismissive glance before returning to the giggling goblin, so I allowed myself a moment to look around.

  The plain concrete walls with their crusty patches of old blood matched my last memory of the place, as did the smell of blood, sweat, and tears mixed with the warm musk of fur and the cloying scent of feathers. But now, instead of overarching notes of booze and smoke from the bar, there was the stomach-churning scent of spilled bowels and the cringe-worthy aroma of decaying flesh.

  There was no bar. There was no private room. The areas of isolated civility had been replaced with additional arenas. Peasblossom was right, they were all caged off. As if the battles were no longer above-board, there for entertainment.

  And, if the portal that had dropped Liam and me into our arenas was any indication, they were also no longer always voluntary.

  “Open the cage door, Joker,” I snapped at the goblin. “Now.”

  The goblin’s eye bugged out, and he let out a hysterical shriek and danced in place. “You remember me! You remember me!” His grin widened, revealing four broken teeth. “And I remember you.”

  “It seems I am unneeded and unwanted,” the gargoyle rasped, her voice like a stone being rolled over a slate floor. “Or will you share the witch’s attention with me?”

  “Get out,” the goblin snapped, his voice half-panicked at the gargoyle’s suggestion. “Get out, get out, get out!”

  The gargoyle didn’t wait around for Joker to change his mind. With one strong swipe of her wings, she sent her body hurtling toward the section of the arena opposite me, where a door rattled under the clasping hands of four more goblins. The gargoyle halted before the door, looking back over her shoulder at Joker.

  “Let her out!” Joker snarled, without taking his eyes off me and my duplicates. “Let her out before the witch turns her attention to her!”

  One of the goblins pushed forward. “I want in! You have to bid on her!”

  “No!” Joker howled. “She’s mine! I paid for this fight!”

  “You paid for the gargoyle!”

  “I will fight whoever answers my questions!” I called out, raising my voice to be heard over the crowd.

  The goblins at the door ripped it open, one of them reaching inside to grab the gargoyle’s arm and jerk her out of the way. All four of them flowed into the cage to stand in a line like eager schoolchildren competing for a no-homework pass.

  One of the duplicates beside me popped. I jumped to the side, rolling again to come up five feet away, the remaining five duplicates moving in perfect unison with me. Joker stood with his hands out to the sides, flexing his fingers as if he could already feel my throat in his grasp. “No questions! You’re mine!”

  “If you attack me again, I will perform nothing but harmless, painless defensive magic,” I warned. “I’ll use a force spell to hold you in place, and use my truly destructive magic to blow apart your cage—protecting you from the shrapnel of course.”

  Joker’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.

  “But,” I said, tempting all of them, “whoever gives me the best information will receive my full attention for the duration of one spell. One spell so hideous, so excruciating, that it will hurt the audience to look at you.”

  Now they were all drooling, all trembling in place. I had one, blessed moment of relief. These were minor goblins. Weak goblins who thought only of quick, easy pleasure. Like addicts, they thought only of their next fix, without a care for quality. A stronger goblin would want a fight. Not just pain, but the threat of death. A real battle.

  “Who runs this place now?” I demanded.

  “We do!” one of the goblins shouted eagerly. “The goblins!”

  Goblins were not known for their organization. Or rules. Or magic. I narrowed my eyes. “Someone made the rules. Someone handles the money for the bids you mentioned.”

  Another goblin shouted the answer before the others. “Katie and Rafe put up the cages. They work with the goblins. Asher and Khan represent us.”

  Asher. Blood and bone, would the coincidences never cease?

  “Very good,” I said, pointing at the speaker. “Now for the bonus round. Where might I find the werewolf called Connor Reeves?”

  “He’s here!” Joker looked around, movements frantic, red eyes wide. “He’s here, he’s been here for days!”

  I started to look around, then stopped. Eyes on the goblins, Shade. Safety first, then find the werewolf.

  I straightened my spine and allowed myself time for a deep breath—soaked with the stench of the club though it might have been. Goblins weren’t graceful losers, and lesser goblins weren’t known for their self-restraint either. The goblins who’d lost would not take this well. I braced myself as I made the announcement.

  “All right. It seems you’ve won.”

  I fired off the spell and the magic struck Joker in the chest, forced him to fall back. His skin sizzled and bubbled as if I’d sprayed him with acid, and tiny flames spurted from the craters growing in his flesh. Black smoke curled into the air, and he screamed.

  The losers tackled me, shrieking in protest as they each aimed for a different Shade. Two of them missed, succeeding only in popping two more of my illusions.

  The third one chose correctly.

  As he tackled me, a flash of pink caught my peripheral vision.

  “No!” screamed the goblin on top of me.

  Suddenly that goblin jerked to the side. I threw him off, trying not to throw up as the pain in my head grew worse, threatening my vision with clouds of grey.Peasblossom continued to dive at the goblin, stabbing him over and over with the small silver needle molded to look like a sword Gundersson had sent her last week.

  I still had two goblins to deal with, and three illusions left. I couldn’t count on them choosing wrong, couldn’t turn my back on them. And I didn’t have the time or desire to fight all of them. So with one last flex of magic, I focused on Joker again.

  “Keep them off of me,” I growled.

  Normally, hypnosis—even with magic—takes a little longer. You have to make eye contact, hold it, force your victim to focus completely on you. But it helped move things along if you were giving the creature a command they wanted to follow. Even better if you’d just given them a really good time and they were inclined to give you what you wanted.

  Joker laughed, a sound that was too wet for my taste, and launched himself at the other goblins. The acid and fire pouring off him happily welcomed more victims, and his fellow goblins were soon wrestling with him on the floor of the arena, each one trying to get closer.

  I limped out of the cage, praying I wouldn’t run into anyone else looking to rumble with a witch. Peasblossom nudged me to keep me going in the right direction. I must have spaced out, because my world narrowed down to the horrible smell of blood and death, the constant press of bodies. Then suddenly I ran into someone, and instead of a snarl or a muttered threat, I felt the flare of a familiar aura.

  Liam loomed in front of me. It took me a second to focus. When I finall
y forced the blobs of color before me to coalesce into recognizable shapes, I swallowed hard.

  Liam’s clothes were shredded. It was through divine intervention alone that his pants still clung to his hips. Of more concern was the fact his eyes were gold. His control was the best I’d ever seen, and I knew if I was seeing his wolf’s eyes, then he was closer to the edge than it was good for him to be in a place like this.

  “Are you okay?” I said, my voice so hoarse I worried he wouldn’t hear me.

  “Fine.”

  He didn’t look fine, but I didn’t argue. “The goblins said Connor is here.”

  Suddenly Liam’s gaze locked onto a point just behind me. I saw it in time to realize someone was there, but not soon enough to turn before an arm wrapped around me from behind. A clawed hand seized my jaw, the other arm banding around my waist. Pain lanced through my body as various injured body parts protested the sudden pressure.

  “You have been disappointing of late,” Asher whispered, his breath moving the hair around my ear.

  “Have I?” My voice hitched as I tried to breathe through the pain.

  “Let her go.” Liam flexed his hands, drawing my attention to the claws protruding from his fingertips, but he made no move to get closer. Asher could slit my throat before he got close enough to stop him.

  I took a deep breath, or as deep as I could manage given the circumstances. I’d already used a lot of magic in a short period of time. I had to be careful or the next spell I used would fizzle out before it could do me any good. Fortunately, Asher was in a chatty mood.

  “You used to be good for a fight. But now it seems you have all the good brawls where I can’t reach you.” His face shifted, and I knew he was looking at Liam. “At New Moon.” He tilted his head. “In the private home of the art-loving sidhe. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were avoiding me. And if you avoid me, then the only fun I’ll get out of you is through a more…direct route.”

  “Well, this case seems to involve mercenary werewolves,” I said lightly. “Sound fun enough?”