Forget About Midnight (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #9)

“That’s why I’m here. To explore our options.” Falon cocked his head to one side, studying me, and grinned. “Did you think I came to explore other things? You were good, Alexa. But not that good.”


“I hate you,” I muttered, chewing a fingernail as I pondered this.

“I hate you?” Falon echoed. “You’re usually much better at this.”

This was happening sooner than I’d anticipated. If someone had told me months ago that I’d be teaming up with Falon for any reason, I’d never have believed it. What a joke.

“Get to the point. I have places to be.” My impatience wasn’t feigned. I was standing in the middle of the room in a towel.

Falon grinned, enjoying my growing ire, but he was straight faced when he spoke. “Our best option is to do a binding. To an object. We need Gabriel to do the spell.”

Brow furrowed, I clutched my towel tighter. “Sounds too simple. What are you leaving out?”

“Just a few things. Your divine Hound blood to spark the spell. Gabriel’s witchy self. And something from Shya. A feather, to be specific.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “The hard part is obviously the feather. We don’t want him to know what we’re doing. Getting that feather will not be easy.”

“Can’t we just bind him the way he bound Lilah?” I asked, still so unfamiliar with all of the demon magic stuff. “Willow could do it.”

Falon glowered at the mention of Willow. “Not necessary. Shya bound Lilah’s power. She was still walking around free. Gabriel has more than enough power to trap him in an object, one that we have control of.”

“We?” That word didn’t sit well with me.

“Fine. You. Whatever you want.”

It sounded simple, but it wouldn’t be. The spell might be doable but getting a feather from Shya without him knowing sounded near impossible.

“I’ll talk to Gabriel,” I said, mind racing as I sought a way to pull this off.

“Can we trust him? He’s been keeping his distance from Shya, but that doesn’t mean shit. If anyone or anything tips him off, we’re fucked.” Falon rambled on. I started to tune him out.

As he talked I retreated into myself. This was too much for me. I needed time to process. To think. Naked in a towel with Falon yattering on wasn’t the time.

I nodded absently to something he said though I wasn’t listening. The feelings I’d buried regarding Shaz’s unrealistic expectations, Kale’s rejection, and Willow’s advice all threatened to surface. Having my reckless choice to hand Briggs over come back to haunt me so soon was the crap icing on my shit cake.

There was much to be done. Willow’s advice was already proving itself true. I was still a Hound. My purpose still involved battling evil, whether that be Shya, the Feds, or the sick pigs who preyed on the kids Brinley cared so much about. So I would do what I had to do. I just had to find my way out of the madness first. That wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“Falon.” I glided over to him with the smooth, prowling gait of a predator. A gentle breeze of power blew through the room. I let the towel fall. “Shut up.”

Our gazes locked. His words died mid-sentence. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. And though it wasn’t in his nature, Falon was speechless.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Jez.” I banged on the apartment door, ready to break in if I had to. “I know you’re in there, Jez, so open the door, or I’m coming in anyway.”

Getting into the locked building had been a breeze. It took very little effort to manipulate a lock. Just one of Jez’s neighbors was brave enough to poke her head into the hall to see who was making such a commotion. The lady who peered out at me from the other end of the hall must not have liked what she saw because she closed the door and locked it.

There was no obvious sound from inside, but if I listened carefully, I could hear the murmur of voices. The longer I stood there knocking without an answer, the more worked up I became. If something happened to Jez right after Kale left town… no, not an option.

I’d planned to be there earlier, before I was distracted by Falon. Once he’d scratched the dark itch I hadn’t realized I had, I’d promptly kicked him out of my nightclub. Since we couldn’t work on binding Shya tonight there had been no reason for him to stay any longer once he’d served the purpose I’d wanted from him.

“That’s it, Jez,” I said. “Last warning.”

No answer.

Busting the door down would have been a nice, dramatic way to enter. Since I didn’t want anyone calling the cops, I manipulated the lock with a gentle power push instead. It clicked, and I entered.

The kitchen was dark, and I crossed through it to the empty living room where a lamp cast a dim glow. Voices drifted from Jez’s bedroom. Perhaps I was interrupting an intimate encounter, but something about the energy in the apartment felt off. Wrong. There was more to it.