As was the case with most fae or those with fae blood, himself included, he didn’t share his age often. Immortals and near immortals held different views on time, perspectives on life, on its immediacy.
There was a weight to the air when Remy dropped her youthful guise and allowed her true self to surface that told him she far outstripped him. Humans could master a skill if they dedicated their lives to its pursuit, and fae were no different. Except the span of their existence encompassed infinite human lives’ spent perfecting what they did best.
He heard no lies in her claim to have earned her skills, and he believed in her dedication to her craft.
“I can be sneaky,” Hadley said, affronted. “I can be quiet.”
Midas bit the side of his cheek and kept his mouth shut, amused when Remy did the same.
“Okay, so I’m not fae-sneaky or fae-quiet.” She harrumphed. “I still got this.”
“We don’t have much choice except for you to try,” Remy teased. “Guess we’ll see.”
Guess we’ll see wasn’t exactly comforting to an alpha personality with a predator lurking under his skin, least of all where a covert mission and the safety of his mate was concerned.
“Last chance to use the little girls’ or boys’ room.” Remy turned into a gas station. “We walk from here.”
The OPA had briefed her on the warehouse’s location and given her a copy of its schematics to study. Based on her review, she had chosen a spot five miles away from the warehouse to park. The gas station didn’t offer much in the way of cover, but it ought to protect her ride until they were done.
They climbed out, Remy and Hadley slid into their packs, and he carried the rest looped over a forearm.
Ambrose kept a wary eye on the procession, more alert than Midas had ever seen him, and less interested in sniping easy meals too. The truce he had called with Hadley might be genuine, or it might be a long con, but either way, he appeared determined to play out the charade.
He wasn’t too worried about Ambrose killing her, since the bindings would destroy him too, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt her. Especially when access to large reservoirs of power, like the archive, gave him the ability to manifest independent of her.
The shadow turned his head toward Midas, as if he could guess the direction of his thoughts.
Midas inclined his head, not bothering to smooth away his glare, and Ambrose lost interest in him.
The first mile passed in uneventful silence. The second was much the same, except for the worsening smell. The third made his skin prickle with the steady wash of dark magic across him. The fourth shoved him, as if he had braced his shoulder against a wall and was attempting to push a building out of his way.
“Looks like this is as far as you go.” Hadley caught his arm and pulled him back from the barrier. “You don’t need to tire yourself out getting closer. Save your strength for when you need it. I doubt Ford or Hank could manage even this far. It’s better if you stay where they can easily reach you.”
“I don’t like this.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but it was no less true. “I don’t want to let you go.”
For myriad reasons, but the biggest one was how her entering Faerie while he stayed behind smacked of cowardice on his part. As if she was the one facing his past while he was too afraid to revisit it.
“Me neither.” She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. “I don’t want to go in there, the building or the archive. I don’t want to worry about you alone out here. I don’t want innocent people to die because the coven views anyone non-coven as acceptable losses. What I want is to go home, kick back, watch a movie, and stuff myself with popcorn.”
“I’m game.” Remy brightened on the spot. “I get to pick the movie, though.”
Midas tightened his hold on Hadley, lowered his head, and breathed in her scent. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“That’s why I’m going to let you go,” he said, more to himself than her. “You need to do this.”
“Yeah.” She exhaled, withdrawing. “I do.”
“Ugh.” Remy walked off a few steps. “Here come the feels.” She gagged loudly. “Good thing I don’t have any popcorn. I’d hork it up listening to you two.”
Ignoring Remy, Hadley rose on her tiptoes and brushed her soft lips across his. “Be safe.”
“You be safe.” He made it an order. “Come back to me.”
“Don’t worry.” She grinned impishly. “I’m not leaving this world until after I’ve seen you in Spock ears.”
“Actually,” Remy interrupted her. “You kind of are. We’re going to Faerie, remember?”
“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes at Remy then refocused on him. “I doubt it will do any good, but I’ll keep my phone on me.”
“I’ll text you when Ford and Hank get here, but your phone won’t work in Faerie. I doubt it’ll work in the archive. You should power it off once you’re in. That ought to insulate it enough to function when you get back if you need to call for a pickup.”
“No timer then either. Gotcha. That’s okay. We’ll wing it.” She took a step back. “Wish me luck?”
The overpowering urge to grab her, tuck her under his arm, and run twitched in his fingers. He made a fist to crush the impulse then forced a smile. She would see through it, but she wouldn’t call him on it.
“You don’t need it.” He locked his knees to keep from following her. “You’ll do fine.”
Nodding, she turned her back on him and walked away.
Nothing on Earth or in any other realm could have pried Midas from the spot where Hadley left him until she was out of sight. After her scent faded to memory, he retreated a safe distance to wait on Ford and Hank.
The derelict warehouse was hemmed in by trees eager to reclaim the land and choked with overgrowth. He selected one of the taller oaks, climbed as high as his weight allowed, and didn’t fool himself when he stared across the expanse between him and the warehouse with his heart in his throat.
His mate was out there. Rushing toward danger. Eager to do battle. Prepared to make sacrifices.
God, he loved her spirit. She would make a fine alpha one day. Midas prayed he lived to see it.
Nights like these, he was certain Hadley would give him a coronary long before then.
Once he settled in at a cross section of limbs, he kept his ears perked and a wary eye on the forest.
No birds sang, no insects chirped. No breeze stirred the leaves, and no moonlight pierced the dark clouds over his head. The sickly-sweet stench of black magic clogged his nose, and bristled fur brushed the underside of his skin in response.
This deep into enemy territory, he couldn’t risk a text or call giving away his location. The screen was a danger too, but he trusted the leaves to hide its glare. He settled for checking his silent phone every so often, which, honestly, he would have done anyway.
Fifteen minutes after Hadley and Remy left, Bishop texted him.
>>The hearts are missing.
Heart booming in his ears, he couldn’t stop his gaze from swinging toward where Hadley had gone.