“Lyric?” I blurted, searching for the bond that kept me tethered to her. It still glowed bright but was stretched thin seeing as we were miles away from Edgemont, deep in the hills of Lycan territory.
“She’s fine. She and Avi are with Ransom,” Benedict said, his eyes sweeping over the carnage with the aloof assessment of a male who had seen far worse scenes. “But you’re needed at Conclave. Now.”
I holstered my weapons. “We’re not due to meet for another three weeks.” And hell, it was Halloween, the one night of the year it was acceptable to show a little fang out in the general public.
“Genevieve called an emergency session.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. Emergency sessions only meant trouble.
Benedict nodded as if reading my mind. “Jocelyn was attacked.”
“Is the lass alright?” Lachlan asked.
“That’s two royal houses.” Hawke wiped off his bloodied knife on the top of the plaid sofa and sheathed it.
My thoughts ran in a dozen different directions. What were the odds that the Princess of the witches would be attacked within the same six weeks Avi had been? Other than the occasional attempt of a royal overthrow, there was never interspecies violence against royal houses. We all needed the Covenant too much.
Other than the fact that Luka had to battle to keep his Alpha status every time some other wolf challenged him, we were all relatively stable and had been for years.
Was this the last attack? Or just the latest?
I turned to Lachlan. “Go to the females. Put the estate on lockdown.” Who the females were was too obvious to state, and at least the majority of the nobles had gone home after the wedding.
“You’re taking that one?” He motioned toward Hawke, whose face looked like he’d been playing at a paintball range that only used red ammunition.
“He’s good for dramatic effect,” Benedict noted.
Hawke flipped him the middle finger.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” I told Lachlan.
He nodded once, then disappeared.
“We go now,” I said to Hawke and Benedict, then welcomed the bite of ice as I wended to the hallway just outside the Conclave chamber. The original authors of the Covenant—my father, included, had been wise to seal the room against wending, especially with whatever fuckery this was afoot.
Hawke and Benedict appeared at my side, and at my nod, Hawke opened the door to the chamber.
The cacophony of arguing voices greeted us as we marched in. It didn’t escape my notice that Hawke didn’t fall behind me, but walked ahead instead, his head moving to scan left then right.
It was Hawke’s gift to sense fear and weakness—it’s what made him my most effective interrogator, and if he was unsettled enough to scout for threats, there was a good damned reason for it.
The sharp, paint thinner-like scent of anxiety filled the space as Hawke paused at the left side of my chair and stepped aside so I could pass through.
“It’s about goddamned time you got here!” Genevieve shouted, pointing her slender finger in my direction from where she, Luka, and Xavier stood facing off.
Luka was red in the face—never a good sign, and Genevieve’s hip-length silver hair was rippling from a breeze that didn’t exist—an even worse omen. Xavier stood with his arms crossed, looking bored as ever.
“Are you unharmed?” I looked past the trio to Jocelyn, Genevieve’s lilac-haired daughter, who stood proud and tall at the left of her mother’s seat, anger wafting off the young woman in waves of heat, but no fear. Good. Anger was something I could deal with, but a wounded witch posed more of a threat than even Luka at the full moon. They were their most dangerous when cornered.
“I’m fine.” She lifted her chin in Genevieve’s direction. “She’s the one losing her mind.”
The witch on the opposite side of the chair blanched.
Genevieve turned slowly toward her daughter, and the temperature dropped fifteen degrees in the chamber. “I have other daughters,” she said in clear warning.
“So, you keep reminding me.” Jocelyn smiled sweetly at her mother.
Benedict barely managed to stifle a laugh, and I darted a quick, reproaching glare his direction.
The temperature dropped another five degrees, and Patrick shivered from his seat. At least the human was smart enough to remove himself from the immortal fray. Both his attendants—one middle-aged man and a girl in her twenties, stared at the trio with wide eyes.
“Anyone care to fill me in?” I asked, falling into my seat with forced ease, hoping the others would do the same. It had been centuries since blood had stained the marble beneath us, and it would be a shame to end that streak.
Genevieve transferred her glare to me, but took her seat, her regal spine straight as an arrow. Once Luka settled in his own chair, Xavier sat, too. Patrick visibly relaxed, as did the other humans at his side.
“Tell them,” Genevieve ordered Jocelyn.
The young woman stepped forward and pushed the long sleeves of her sweater up her arm to reveal a set of fingerprint bruises. “I was out—”
“At a nightclub,” her mother spat.
“Yes.” Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “At a nightclub, when some guy grabbed me coming out of the bathroom.”
I tensed, seeing the physical proof of just how hard he’d grabbed.
“He dragged me back into a storage room where there was another guy waiting.” She pushed down her sleeves. “We fought. I won.”
“Where are they? Benedict can question them,” I offered.
“I would be glad to be of service.” Benedict stepped forward and bowed his head deeply. After what had happened to his mother a couple hundred years ago, I wasn’t surprised.
“It’s a little too late for that.” Jocelyn arched a single brow. “I froze the blood in their veins. I’ve never been a fan of men touching me without permission.”
“Damn,” Xavier noted with appreciation.
“I already took care of the…mess,” Genevieve stated.
“There wasn’t even any blood, Mother. I’d hardly call that a mess.” Jocelyn said over her shoulder before turning back to us. “I’m very efficient when I need to be, and it was a human nightclub.”
“Not to sound like the asshole here, but was it…personal?” Luka asked, power rippling down his arms as his eyes flashed silver. “Did they know who you were?”
Jocelyn blinked at him. “If you’re asking if this was an anonymous rape attempt, I’d have to say no. They went for my talisman, not my pants.” She tilted her neck to reveal a red welt on her skin just above the chain that held the key to focusing her powers.
“Shit,” Luka muttered. “It’s not like you have a plethora of purple-haired witches over there, Genevieve. They knew who she was.”
“I’m well aware,” Genevieve snapped.
I lifted my brows at Xavier, hoping he’d ask the question so I wouldn’t have to blatantly insult him after what had happened to Avi.
“Were they demons?” Xavier asked, his shoulders going tense.
To her credit, Jocelyn looked him square in the eye. “No. I was in Witch territory. The men were human.”
Every head turned toward Patrick, who put his hands up, palms out. “I know nothing of this.”