“I know.” I looked down at my clenched hands. “In his defense, I was horrible to him too, and my actions were partially to blame for driving him mad.”
Malik grunted.
“If Braxis has been crowned, that means Gregory's dead,” Kyrian said brightly before we could head down a dark path. “That's something to celebrate.”
“Except his coconspirator is still out there,” Mal growled. “Braxis needs to find that woman next. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't find her first. He had a place to start with her.” Mal's grim expression shifted into wicked pleasure. “Maybe we should send him on a quest. Isn't it tradition to send a suitor on a quest to win the hand of a princess?”
“He just hunted down Gregory, returned his men to Hell, and became a duke,” I said dryly. “Let him take a breath, Malik.”
Malik grunted again noncommittally.
I'd warned Braxis that I was the least of the hurdles he'd have to jump to get to my heart, and he had gladly accepted the challenge. But I don't think he really knew what kind of opposition was waiting for him. Forgiveness had won him clemency, but not me. He had a long road ahead, and I had little hope for it ending in my bed. Dear Danu, did I just rhyme? It was a bad sign when a linguist couldn't speak without rhyming. I'm not Dr. Seuss, for heaven's sake.
Somewhere in the enormous house, a phone rang.
We froze and stared at each other.
“I have mine on me,” Kyrian said.
“So do I.” Malik looked at me pointedly.
“Danu damn it!” I swore and jumped to my feet.
“She's spending too much time with Everan,” Malik grumbled as I ran from the room.
Kyrian made a sound of agreement.
My heels clicked across the marble floor and then hardwood. Where did I leave my purse this time? Not on the table in the entry. Not in the kitchen. My heels sank into carpet. Not in the library. The chiming continued tauntingly. I had moved from a modestly sized townhouse to this mansion, and I was still getting used to what that meant in terms of space. Cyprian had been trying to talk us into hiring staff, but the rest of us had adamantly refused. Unless he could find supes to clean the house for us, none of us wanted to deal with the difficulty of having humans around. Hiding in our own home didn't sound appealing. Frankly, I'd rather scrub toilets.
“Ha!” I snatched up my purse from the dining room table. Then I cursed again as I fumbled in the purse for the phone. “Hello!” I practically shouted. “Hello?”
“Amara?” it was Alexander Connolly, our liaison with the Department of Homeland Security.
In addition to my complicated love life, I was a member of F.E.A.R.—a team of supernatural agents who investigate and handle any supe incidents or criminals in America and sometimes across the world. There are three types of supernatural: Alien—those races who come to Earth from other worlds (like Mal and Kyrian), Evolved—those whose ancestors were human but have developed supernatural abilities, and Transformed—those who have been experimented on or otherwise had something done to them that altered their genetic makeup. I'm a hybrid, part Alien and part Transformed. But the other members of F.E.A.R. were Evolved. At least, as far as I knew they were. It was considered rude to ask a supe if they were Transformed. Being altered is a touchy subject since most times it was done against the will of the subject.
“Alex, what's wrong?” I asked.
Alex wasn't a supe. He was all human and currently nervous.
“We've got a strange situation,” Alex said. “Would it be all right for the team to meet at your place? Then I wouldn't have to find someone to take me into the Market.”
The market he referred to was the Supemarket, the missing R distinguishing it from a supermarket where you buy groceries. A supemarket is a community of supernaturals living secretly among humans. You'll find one in almost every major city around the world. At least, you'd find it if you were a supe. If not, you'd probably walk right past it without a second glance. The American Government knows about supernaturals, obviously, and so they also know about our communities. But knowledge isn't always power. Every supemarket was protected by seriously strong spells called wards that allowed only supernaturals, or those walking with supernaturals, past them. In short, no matter how much power you have, if you're human,