I’d talked to my father briefly on the phone on the ride to the airport. He’d agreed with the plan and was going to book a plane himself, along with some of his wolves, to join us for whatever was going down. He assured me he’d be in touch with Julian de Rossi, the Alpha of the Mediterranean Pack, and that he’d have him meet us at the airport in Florence.
I’d met Julian only once before, staying with him for a short time when I’d first left the Compound at eighteen. After my time there, I’d come back to the States under the alias Molly Hannon and enrolled in the police academy. From what I remember, Julian was very much the quintessential Italian—dapper, suave, and regal. He ran his Pack with an iron claw and razor-sharp teeth. He had not been my favorite host of all time, but he had been nice enough.
My father stayed in contact with him regularly and had commented that the last time they’d spoken, Julian had mentioned there’d been trouble in Italy recently. Wolves had gone missing, and random acts of magical mishap were on the rise.
“Dang it,” Marcy muttered from the seat in front of me, tossing her phone into her purse. “Nobody’s answering. I have a literal laundry list of Coven numbers in my cell, and no one will pick up my call. How am I supposed to find out what’s going on with my aunt when no one will answer their phone?” Marcy’s nervousness about being on a plane so soon after our recent close call was right at the surface. James, her mate, laid a firm hand on her thigh, trying to comfort her.
I leaned forward, grabbing on to Marcy’s headrest. There was plenty of space on the Learjet—big gaps between the seats, which made for easy communication. “Why aren’t they answering?” Tallulah Talbot, Marcy’s aunt, was the leader of the witches and had been missing for a while now. The entire Coven had been empty upon our return from the Underworld. Tally had mysteriously disappeared right before she was supposed to guide me back through the portal the witches were in charge of keeping open. It was not in her character to leave a post like that.
Not to mention, Tally wouldn’t have left me trapped down there, which was what would’ve happened if the Princess of Hell hadn’t gained power from Lili’s heart and become the ruler of the Underworld.
Marcy twisted in her seat to face me. “I wish I knew,” she answered. “I can’t believe they’d all be incapacitated. There were at least thirty of them living at the Coven. But that’s what I’m beginning to think. When I went over to the house to investigate, there hadn’t been any evidence of a fight. It was just plain empty. That doesn’t mean much if the supernatural who took them was as powerful as Enid.” Marcy grimaced. “I hope they’re not all dead. They aren’t my favorite people in the world, but being dead is final. And if they died, they did it trying to protect my aunt.”
I patted her shoulder. “We’re going to find Tally. She’s alive, and so is Maggie.” Maggie was Tally’s toddler daughter, who happened to be a powerful oracle. “Whoever took the leader of the witches isn’t going to succeed in killing her. They wouldn’t be that foolish, nor would they have the strength.”
Marcy smiled, her expression thoughtful. “That old bat would be hard to kill, that’s for sure.”
“Would you know if she was dead?” There was no easy way to ask.
“Yes,” Marcy replied. “We share the same bloodline. It’s a powerful bond for witches. I would know. She’s alive. But I have no idea what kind of shape she’s in. She’s been missing for a long time.” A frown showed her concern. “I would only know if she ceased to be.”
“That’s good enough. I’m happy she’s alive.” I sat back in my seat. Rourke slung his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “If I had to guess, Tally’s in Italy, along with everyone else. This is where it’s all going to come down, for better or worse.”
Shivers raced up my spine, and my wolf howled in my mind. Ever since she’d received her whole soul back, thanks to our creator, Marinette, our relationship had shifted. She’d become more calm and easygoing, fading into the background.
I wasn’t complaining.
All the regular everyday stuff would be handled by me, and she would be in charge of the supernatural crises. It’d been a seamless transition, one that I’d barely been aware of. My wolf and I had finally melded, getting along in the way that I assumed other shifters did with their animal sides. There was less anxiety for both of us this way.
She howled again. What’s wrong? I asked, the hair on my arms at attention. The plane isn’t going down, is it? In response, she showed me a vision of us engaged in combat. It wasn’t a clear picture. It was grainy and foggy, and our opponents kept changing. We’re going to be fighting more than one person? That wasn’t really a shocker. I expected as much. The vision morphed once more, but this time it was a still shot.
One side of the photo was dark and bleak, the other sunny. Both had me, standing alone, bruised and bloodied.
“What is it?” Rourke asked, sensing my unease.
“I’m not sure,” I answered. “My wolf is showing me visions of us fighting. It looks like there will be attacks from a few fronts, which is not surprising. But the last thing she showed me was a picture with two sides. One dark and bleak, the other sunny and bright.” I glanced at my mate, comforted by him. He grabbed my hand. “There’s a lot at stake waiting for us in Italy. My wolf is showing me two outcomes, one good and one bad.” I had to make sure the outcome was sunny and bright. The other option was unacceptable.