And Crowe?
I glanced up as Flynn and Crowe arrived on their bikes. Worried about Alex, I texted.
Working the lunch shift today. Will I see you later?
I let her know I’d check in with her when I knew about Alex, and she seemed fine with that. I got out and walked across the lot to meet Flynn and Crowe, noting from the cars and bikes around me that Lori Medici and most of the Devils’ League must already be inside. Crowe took the steps up two at a time and held the door for me so I could enter ahead of him. Lori met us in the hallway.
“No one has any news,” she told Crowe.
Crowe squeezed her shoulder as he walked past. I followed them down the hall to the bar area.
Boone and Jackson sat in one of the booths along the wall. Flynn went over and joined them. Hardy sat, propped on a barstool, looking like he might still be slightly drunk from the night before.
Crowe went behind the bar, poured himself a shot of whiskey, and slung it back. When he was finished, he slammed the glass on the bar top. Dark circles ringed his eyes. It was now nearly seven and he hadn’t been to bed yet.
In a terse voice, he relayed the news that Alex was missing, and that someone had cast an illusion to conceal who she left with.
“Was Stephen even at the festival?” Boone asked.
“Yeah,” Hardy said. “Saw him not long after Jemmie left.”
“Was Dara there, too?”
Only a few drecks were allowed at the festival. Only those who knew the world, and Dara knew a lot about it. She would have been invited, since her son was still a minor.
“I saw her,” Jackson said. “She was playing tag with the kids in the field near the parking lot.”
“Then I need to talk to her,” said Crowe.
“What’s Dara got to do with it?” I asked. “We already agreed Stephen didn’t actually leave with Alex.”
Crowe dug his cell phone from his pocket. “Think. Why did people see Alex leave with two different people?”
Flynn said, “A complete illusion will be seen and felt by all. An unstable one will produce varied results.”
Lori clutched a coffee cup in both hands. “Not enough power to cast a complete illusion. The caster would have to be selective about who it would affect.”
“Exactly.” Crowe scrolled through his contacts. “The illusion was probably only for the people likely to stop Alex from leaving—the Devils. Whoever it was would have been interested in only one thing: getting Alex out. Dara isn’t a Devil, and we know she was by the lot. She could have seen the real guy.”
Once he’d found Dara in his phone, he made the call and put it on speaker. She answered with a sleepy voice.
“Did you see Alex leave the festival last night?” Crowe asked, skipping a greeting altogether.
“Yeah. Just after ten, I think.”
Crowe spread his arms out, hands propped on the bar top as he hunched closer to the phone. “On her own—or with somebody?”
“She was with a guy.” Dara sounded a little nervous.
“I need you to tell us as much about this guy as you can. What did he look like?” Crowe asked.
“He was young. Looked a little older than Stephen, but not by much. He was six foot, maybe? Blond hair. He was wearing a white T-shirt and those god-awful skinny jeans.”
My throat closed up. Her description sounded an awful lot like Darek.
We all looked at one another.
Dara must have read into the silence, because she asked, “Why? Is something wrong with Alex?”
Crowe ignored her question. “If you think of anything else, call me, yeah?”
“Sure, of course.”
With the call ended, Hardy let out a sigh and scrubbed at his eyes. “That description sounds an awful lot like that Deathstalker prospect kid.”
“I don’t know what it is about that guy, but he pisses me off,” Crowe said, his fingers curling into fists.
I cringed internally. I knew he’d noticed Darek last night, but I hadn’t realized he’d taken such an instant disliking to him.
Crowe straightened abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. “Fucking Deathstalkers! I should have killed that kid when I had the chance. Killian probably ordered him to take Alex. God only knows what he’s done with her.”
“Crowe,” Lori said, clearly trying to calm her son, “I’m worried, too, but it’s dangerous to jump to conclusions.”
“I know, Ma, but can you blame me?” He came around the bar and started to pace, his hands on his hips. No one said anything. Inside, I felt like my guts had been knotted a hundred different ways. Had Darek really left the festival with Alex? Where had they gone? Why hadn’t he called me back last night? Or texted me?
I checked my phone again and found nothing.
“Jemmie,” Crowe said, finally turning his attention to me. He opened his mouth to speak, glanced around, then said, “Can I talk to you in the hallway?”
Frowning, I followed him out of the bar area. Did he know I knew Darek? “What’s up?”
“You think you can cast a locator spell?”
Relief rolled through me. My secret was still safe. But it wasn’t just that—a glow of gratitude warmed my cold thoughts. He’d asked me privately about the magic, instead of putting me on the spot in front of everyone. Except… the look in his eyes was so intense that, even here, with just the two of us, that’s exactly where I was.
I sighed. Could I really say no? He was so desperate to find her.
And I was desperate to know why she and Darek had left together.
“I can try.”
Crowe nodded. “Let’s go to the house and find something of Alex’s to strengthen the spell.”
For a second, I watched him as he walked ahead of me to the door. I couldn’t help but notice the heaviness in his shoulders, as if he was having a hard time keeping himself upright.
“You should get some rest, Crowe,” I said.
He barely glanced at me as he replied, “I’ll get some rest when I know my sister is safe.”
TEN
AS CROWE AND I CUT ACROSS THE SCHOOLHOUSE PARKING lot, clouds rolled in, blocking out the early light of day. The air had turned chilly and brisk. A storm definitely seemed imminent.
Several paces ahead of me, Crowe threw on his Devils’ League vest. He glanced at me over a shoulder when he reached his motorcycle, the wind tousling his hair into a perfect mess.
“You want to ride together or meet me there?” he asked.
“What do you think?”
He didn’t answer, just slid on his black helmet, flipping the tinted visor closed with a definitive snap. While most of the Devils rode traditional Harleys with chrome everything, Crowe owned a 1960s model that he’d customized himself. The frame was matte black from rear to front, and so was just about everything else on it.
Though I knew very little about Harleys, I had to admit Crowe’s was practically a work of art. No one knew their way around a bike quite like he did. In fact, he had an annoying talent for fixing just about anything. Except our relationship, apparently.
Without waiting for me, he started the bike up and tore out of the lot, the roar of the engine echoing through the neighborhood. The sound of his bike used to make my heart do funny things. Now it just irritated me.
The Medici house was on the north side of town, tucked into the center of dense woods, and as I wound my way down the mile-long drive, I tried to prepare myself for what was about to happen. It wasn’t just that I was going to try to do magic on purpose, that I would have to brace myself for the smell and the sight and the feeling that was about to crush me like a tsunami. It was also the first time I would be alone in the Medici house with Crowe since the night we’d kissed.