As we approached the round room, a strange sense of power rolled out from it. Someone in there was strong.
Stronger than almost any of the supernaturals here, besides Bree—who’d fully come into her Dragon God power—and her boyfriend Cade, a Celtic war god.
I gasped. “Do you feel that?”
“Yeah.” Rowan turned around to look at us, eyes wide. “Mega powerful.”
“Must be part of the problem,” Bree said. “Power like that always comes with problems.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Our massive power—or at least, our potential for power, in my case—had kept us on the run for over a decade.
I slowed as I neared the entrance to the round room, drawing in the heady sense of magic that flowed out. There were dozens of magical signatures. Each type of supernatural had their own, and they generally correlated to one of the five senses. Or more than one sense, if you had a lot of magic.
But one person in there was seriously powerful and wasn’t afraid to let it be known. While it was possible to hide your magical signature if you had the skill, this person clearly felt no need.
The room was crowded when we entered. The big round table had been removed, and the space was filled with people sitting in folding chairs. A crowd had gathered near the front, so I couldn’t see who was standing up there, but I craned my neck to get a look at the person with the powerful magic. All I saw was a sea of heads and horns and wings—the Protectorate was full of all sorts.
We found a seat in the back, and the three Cats of Catastrophe joined us, each taking a seat for themselves.
“What the heck?” I muttered.
At the front, Jude clapped loudly and shouted, “Take your seats!”
People sat, and I got my first glimpse of the person with the power. My breath whooshed out of me.
Thank fates I was seated.
The man standing at the front was insanely beautiful—in a raw, powerful kind of way. He had to be well over six feet tall. Though he wore dark jeans and a black jacket, it wasn’t hard to see that he was built like a boxer.
But his face…
Like a fallen angel, here to deliver justice. But a dark angel, with black hair and eyes. Handsome, yet a tiny bit scary in his perfection.
I swallowed hard.
Next to me, Rowan whistled low in her throat. “Who’s the hottie?”
His eyes shifted toward us, passing over Rowan and landing on me.
Where they stayed.
Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. Not because he had some kind of power over me, but because I was some kind of infatuated moron. Which was a power in itself, actually.
And that annoyed the crap out of me.
I scowled at him, giving him my best hairy eyeball.
His brows rose.
With our gazes locked, it was impossible not to notice his magical signatures. Despite the dozens filling the room, his signatures cut through the others, rolling over me in waves.
His magic sounded like the low roll of distant thunder and smelled like leather and pine. It tasted of caramel and surrounded him in an aura of silver light. But the feel of it…
Like a caress against my skin. Or a warm hug. Touching.
Lots and lots of touching.
Heat filled me.
“Quit it,” I mouthed at him.
He just stared at me, a curious look in his dark eyes.
Jude stepped forward, her starry blue eyes sparkling in the light. The Undercover Protectorate was made up of different divisions—the Demon Trackers Unit, Interspecies Mediation, Research and Development, and the Paranormal Investigative Team—but if she was taking the lead, this must be some kind of issue that needed the investigative team.
“Lachlan Munroe has a job for us,” she said. “The biggest one in recent history, which leads to this all-hands-on-deck situation. But I’ll let him explain it.”
“Shit,” Rowan whispered. “He’s the Arch Magus.”
“The most powerful mage in the world?”
She nodded. “The very one.”
I’d heard of the Arch Magus before—he had command of more magical gifts than any other Magica. This was him?
I couldn’t say I was surprised. If not the Arch Magus, I’d have assumed he was some sort of god.
Lachlan stepped forward, his presence filling the room. All eyes were riveted on him, and if I had super hearing, I’d guess that plenty of hearts were racing.
Not mine, of course.
Though it was embarrassingly hard to forget the caress of his magic.
“There’s been a theft.” Lachlan’s voice rolled over the room. It was rich and deep, and tinged with a Scottish accent that sent a shiver across my skin. An embarrassing shiver.
Something touched my thigh, and I looked down to see that the sphynx, Muffin, had pressed his foot to my leg. I met his green gaze.
Get it together.
I scowled at the cat and hissed, “I have it together.”
Sure you do.
I shot him a glare, then turned back to Lachlan.
Whose eyes were on me. He moved his gaze along and continued speaking. “Two days ago, I finished production of a spell that is highly dangerous. During transport to the buyer, it was stolen. My friend Decker was abducted along with it. Both need to be recovered quickly—which is why I’m here.”
Man, he was short on words, parsing them out like they were made of gold. I searched his gaze for some emotion linked to his friend’s abduction, but saw nothing.
And how did someone get the drop on the Arch Magus and manage to steal from him? Shouldn’t this guy be strong enough to protect the stuff he made?
He certainly looked like it. And his magic felt like it.
I raised a hand, but didn’t wait to be called on. Something about this guy made me throw caution to the wind. “What was the spell?”
He was being real cagey about that.
“An ancientus spell.”
Holy fates. Ancientus spells could bring back magic from the past, dangerous magic that had been locked away for good reason. They were insanely rare spells. Even I’d heard of the time an ancientus spell had been used to bring back the Black Death. It could kill thousands if used the wrong way. Or it could save lives.
But if it had been stolen and a person kidnapped…that didn’t sound like people who wanted to use it for good.
Who the hell had he been making it for?
I leaned toward Rowan and muttered, “Sounds to me like the spell never should have been made.”
Lachlan’s gaze lingered on me before he continued. “We have one clue about where the magic was taken. The City of Lights, The City of Invaders. But that name could be interpreted in many different ways, and so I need more help. I know that the Protectorate has the best trackers for the job, so I’ve made an offer to Jude and the rest of the directors.”
Jude stepped forward. “We will divide up into teams. The spell could be anywhere in the world. It’s stored in a crystal sphere the size of a man’s fist. Each team can interpret the clue as they wish, but the one to recover the spell will be paid a prize by Lachlan. Half a million pounds.”
Whew. My jaw just about hit the floor.
This spell was that dangerous? He had to know that the Protectorate would search for the spell for free—it was our duty. But to add that kind of incentive?
I looked at Rowan and Bree, who were equally intrigued. We’d never had that kind of money. Hell, we’d always been poor, given that we’d funneled every penny into protection charms to conceal us from the ones who hunted us.
Five hundred thousand pounds was a lot.
I looked down at the Cats of Catastrophe. They looked equally interested—even the goofy orange one had his crossed eyes glued to Jude and Lachlan.
“You guys could buy a lot of fish with that kind of dough,” I said.
Muffin gave a low meow of agreement, his tail quivering in delight.
I couldn’t believe I was having a conversation with a cat. Especially a cat wearing an emerald earring. I turned my attention back to the front of the room, unable to look away from Lachlan.
He was riveting. And suspicious.