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  “Kyana was just about to tell me about the key,” Geoffrey said.

  Kyana shot Geoffrey a look that begged him to die a painful death for that lie, but surprisingly, Ryker didn’t seem to care whether Geoff knew anything.

  “Oh? Know anything about it?” was all Ryker said.

  “He doesn’t know anything,” Kyana snapped. “And whatever he thinks he knows, we’re not talking about it.”

  Ignoring her still-empty stomach, she downed the rest of her drink and tried to nudge Ryker out of her way so she could stand. He didn’t budge.

  “As a matter of fact,” Geoffrey said, leaning across the table, “I do know something. Turns out I know quite a bit about many things. Want to hear some of it?”

  “What do you know?”

  Kyana looked at Ryker, waiting for the punch line. Apparently, there wasn’t one. Ryker actually bought into the bull Geoffrey was selling.

  “You don’t know jack, Geoff.”

  But the serious looks on both men’s faces had her skin tingling. Geoffrey did have an appalling ability to know things he shouldn’t. Why should this time be any different?

  Geoffrey’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Simple. You want to find the key only Cronos knew about, you find his followers.”

  Kyana rolled her eyes. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that? Why don’t we just ask for a show of hands right now? Anyone want to give themselves up for being a traitor? Yeah, we should do that.”

  “Let him finish.” Ryker reached across Kyana and pulled a wad of napkins from the dispenser and used them to dry his arms and face. “I’m guessing he has some idea how to find these followers or he wouldn’t be here.”

  That raised her hackles. What the hell was going on? Ryker and Geoff didn’t exactly like each other. Before now, she’d never heard them do more than grunt at each other. Usually they just glared in passing. Why would Ryker have faith in Geoff all of a sudden?

  “Okay,” Kyana said. “I’m listening.”

  Geoffrey rested his elbows on the table. “Someone nicked that key from Tartarus when Cronos was exiled. Maybe Cronos himself. Maybe not. Even if it was Cronos, he had to have passed it off to someone for it to be used now, right?”

  “What’s your point?” Kyana took a long pull from the bottle of raki. She’d already covered that much with Artemis and they’d already determined that the key was used as a diversion to kill the Chosen.

  “My point is,” Geoffrey continued, his blue eyes twinkling, “Cronos’s name has been muttered more lately than I can ever remember. Weeks before Tartarus even broke loose. I don’t think much of our population was as surprised as you’d expect when Tartarus opened.”

  “You’re trying to say we have a lot more Cronos supporters than we thought. So what? Sad as it may be, it’s not a crime to be a Cronos lover.”

  “Supporters who weren’t shocked when Tartarus opened? It doesn’t bother you that they might have known it was going to happen? I think that is a crime.”

  Great. So instead of one asshole, they were dealing with several?

  “It shouldn’t be hard to start rounding them up. Eventually you catch the right bastard.”

  “Mmm. A concentration camp for Cronos followers. I don’t much care to become a Nazi, thanks.” Kyana pushed her drink away and folded her arms across her chest. “And even if that wasn’t a disgusting thought, you make it sound like these people are walking around with scarlet A’s on their chests.”

  The heat of Ryker’s sudden stare pulled her attention. He looked utterly flummoxed. “What?” she asked. “I can read, you know.”

  He shrugged. “I just pegged you for more of a Stephen King fan than a Nathaniel Hawthorne.”

  Kyana rolled her eyes and directed her attention back where it belonged. On Geoffrey. “Okay, smart guy. What would you suggest we do?”

  “Get a list of Cronos’s worshippers, obviously. Start from there.”

  “Right,” Ryker said. “Because that would be simple without those scarlet A’s to tip us off.”

  Kyana smiled. A thought began to take root. “Geoff’s right. It’s a place to start. Only . . . we don’t look for the scarlet A’s that exist today. We look for the ones that existed when Cronos reigned.”

  “What will that get us?”

  Kyana fiddled with her napkin. “If we trace their friends and family forward we can get a list of those who might be following in the paths of their ancestors. Catholics tend to breed Catholics. Pagans breed pagans. I’d bet money that some of Cronos’s followers passed down their beliefs to their descendants.”

  “For thousands of generations?”

  Kyana and Geoffrey both looked at Ryker in exasperation.

  “Hell yes,” Geoffrey said. “Good on you, lass.” To Ryker, he continued, “There’s a reason most wars are started over religion. People hold tight to those beliefs even when they seem ludicrous.”

  “Add fanatics to the bunch, and you have loyal worshippers today that can be traced back for thousands of years,” Kyana added. “You’re on it, Geoff. You wouldn’t have come here if you hadn’t been looking for a taste of this mission, so here you have it. Get me a list of those who loved Cronos back in the day and trace every descendant, every close friend they ever had.”

  “Over ten thousand years? That shouldn’t take longer than another few thousand.” Geoffrey stretched.

  “You’re telling me you can’t do it?”

  He stood and glared down at her. “Of course not. I’m telling you that you should let me bend over so you can kiss my sexy arse for being well connected. I’ll have your names for you, but you owe me something in return.”

  Kyana shrugged. “What?”

  He leaned across the table, over Ryker, and came nose to nose with Kyana. “Let’s put it this way . . . you’ll be sweating and grunting like mad.”

  “You want a lay?” Kyana asked, her cheeks burning hot. Not because of Geoffrey’s request, but because Ryker had heard it.

  “ ’Course not, lass. That’d be against the laws.” He straightened and smirked. “I want you to clean my pad. Top to bottom till it shines.”

  Chapter Six

  Kyana lay sprawled on her sofa, her eyes drooping closed. She hadn’t slept in days. Her kind didn’t need more than a few winks a week, but it had been longer than that since she’d done more than close her eyes. The world around her small, two-story house had grown cold and quiet. Perfect for sleeping. But even though she’d spent the afternoon trying to rest before her journey, sleep had not come. Too much was on her mind, and the restlessness of sitting at home, waiting for the sun to set so she could find passage to a mysterious island and begin her hunt for the key, wouldn’t let her find peace.

  She pried open one eye and glanced at the clock above the television. An hour till sunset. She could survive that. By the time she finished packing, she could be on her way. She’d just close her eyes for a minute first.

  The minute she did, Ryker’s face popped into her head again. She groaned and flopped onto her belly. At least he had agreed to go pack his own bags without following her home, though it did irk her that he seemed confident she wouldn’t make her escape without him. He certainly was a cocky sonofabitch.

  She rubbed her eyes, wishing she could scratch the imprint of him from her mind. But he was as stubborn in her brain as he was in person. Permanent. Rooted. If she could just go back to that evening they’d met, she would have done so many things differently. Found someone else to turn to in her moment of grief after watching a dozen fellow tracers get slaughtered. Found someone else to leach warmth from. A willing person . . . not someone who’d rejected her and made her feel dirty for her wants. But she’d chosen Ryker because that particular night, she’d needed more than someone who would roll off her and walk away. She’d needed someone to hold her through the night and make the nightmarish images vanish, and Ryker’s arms had been the only ones she’d wanted around her.

  Her pull to him had been instant and
more powerful than any spark she’d ever had with Geoffrey or even her most recent lover, Silas. She’d wanted more than to just have Ryker inside her. She’d wanted to fully know him. And that had scared the hell out of her.

  She wasn’t sure she’d survive this job if he was tagging along—

  Something clicked in the doorway. Kyana’s eyes snapped open, her body instantly coming alive with adrenaline, all thoughts of Ryker forgotten. Her body quivered as her gaze moved to the doorknob. It clicked left, turned right. She was on her feet in a fraction of a second, her back pressed to the wall behind the door. Perched on the balls of her feet, ready to pounce at the first sign of danger, she reached for the knob, turned it, and thrust the front door open, lunging at the intruder on the other side.

  “Kyana, stop!”

  The sound of her name shouted in a familiar voice stopped Kyana in her tracks, sending her off balance and slamming into the doorjamb. A genuine smile eased the ache in her shoulder.

  “Zeus, Haven! I almost killed you.”

  The blond Witch tossed her tan arms around Kyana’s neck. “The world has gone crazy!”

  “No shit.” Kyana hugged Haven back and, though she couldn’t see it, felt her friend’s reprimanding stare. Haven was always chastising Kyana for her foul mouth. She probably had a point, but Kyana was far too old to change her ways now.

  As a Witch, she inhabited a world that was so unlike Kyana’s. Haven’s polar opposite in every possible way, Kyana had instantly hated the other woman. Haven dealt with life and light, and her pretty-girl persona was enough to drive Kyana to do physical harm. That was until they’d been forced to defend themselves against a rogue band of Dark Breeds terrorizing the Everglades ten years ago—the same fight where Kyana had first met Ryker. Instead of shrinking away and hiding until the battle was over, Haven had fought by Kyana’s side as skillfully and brutally as Geoffrey might have. They’d become family and roommates, and Kyana protected that bond above all else.

  “Where have you been?” Kyana asked, easing out of her friend’s choke hold. “I haven’t heard from you since Tartarus broke loose.” She gestured to the momentarily calm streets that undoubtedly would be overcome with chaos again soon enough.

  “Panama City.” Haven gathered her abundant hair in a manicured hand and slid the loose ponytail to dangle over her breast. She pointed at a long, angry cut that marked her from ear to jaw. “Drake and I were ring shopping when the Lychen attacked.”

  “Have you seen a Mystic?”

  Kyana wasn’t worried about her friend being changed by her encounter with the werewolf. That, like coffins, lack of reflections, and garlic for Vamps, was only urban legend. She was, however, worried about infection. Lychen had vile bacteria in their teeth and claws that, when injected into a non-Lychen’s bloodstream, could be lethal.

  Haven crossed her arms and glared. “You know I can heal myself.”

  “I know.” Kyana smiled and stepped out of the way so Haven could come in. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Hey, I was trapped in a mall for a week. It was heaven. ” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, the occasional demonic attack put a damper on things, but still, good times were had by all.”

  Kyana grinned, knowing Haven was only half teasing. As she closed the front door, Kyana recalled her friend’s earlier words and allowed herself a quick glance at Haven’s left hand. “Ring shopping?”

  “We were interrupted, obviously. But soon.”

  Marriage? Between Haven and Drake? A Witch and a Mystic? That would be the strangest union in history. Mystics were almost monklike. They didn’t typically engage in romance, even when they retired from service as Drake had. Okay, so Mystics and Witches were pretty similar in their abilities, but Witches were born and Mystics chose their path. That led to a lot of conflict between the two groups, the Mystics jealous of the Witches’ birthrights, and a lot of prejudice from the Witches toward the lowly Mystics. Did Haven have any idea how much flak she was going to get from her family when she brought a Mystic home?

  Distaste coated Kyana’s mouth. Why Drake of all beings?

  It wasn’t just that she couldn’t stand Drake’s pompous ass that brought resentment to Kyana’s heart. It was the knowledge that, once the vows were said, her already scarce time with Haven would become even more sporadic. Drake didn’t like Haven socializing with the Order. Since he’d left the Order himself to make his money Above, he’d done everything he could to snatch Haven out, as well.

  They’d had this discussion at least a hundred times over the past few months and it hadn’t made a difference, but she felt she had to try once more. “Haven—”

  “Don’t.” Her sharp blue eyes bored into Kyana, silencing her. “It doesn’t matter if you like Drake. You like me. That means you’ll come to the wedding and stand by my side the way Hope would have if she was still alive.”

  “Damn it, Haven. Don’t play the dead twin card. It’s not fair.”

  Haven lowered her gaze, and Kyana nearly apologized. “Please keep my news secret. I’d really prefer to announce our engagement when all of this has passed.” She turned and made her way to the kitchen.

  When all of this passed? Kyana’s head reeled. Did Haven think this was some minor spat between Zeus and Hades? Did she think this was going to be resolved soon? Haven had her ditzy moments, but she wasn’t stupid or naïve. At least, Kyana had never thought so before.

  Not sure what else to do, Kyana followed Haven. Hoping to ease the strain between them, Kyana smiled. “Glad you’re home.”

  Haven smiled and tossed her pink duffel bag on the floor before opening the fridge. “Thanks. I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. Will be way more comfortable than Dillard’s cold floor.” She narrowed her eyes at Kyana. “Why are you home, anyway? Shouldn’t you be out kicking demon booty?”

  Kyana studied her, wondering how much she should tell Haven. Neither Artie nor the Fates had forbidden Kyana to discuss her mission. And she knew Haven would protect the Order with her life if necessary. Besides, talking it out might help her form a more detailed plan of action. All she had to go on now was whatever Cronos’s island gave her. Kyana wasn’t quite sure what to expect once she got there, but she certainly didn’t expect to find the key. Maybe just a hint as to where it had gone.

  “I’ve been pulled off tracer duty for something more important.”

  Haven paused in her task of tossing salad greens into a large bowl. “More important than sending Dark Breeds back to Hell? Details. Now.”

  Kyana turned toward her room, motioning for Haven to follow. “It seems the Fates have discovered how the Dark Breeds escaped Tartarus.”

  “Well, it’s about time.” Haven entered Kyana’s room and flopped on the bed, catapulting a piece of lettuce onto Kyana’s satin comforter. She picked it up and popped it into her mouth. “So how did they escape?”

  Kyana opened her closet and pulled out a backpack. “Someone stole the key.”

  Laughter filled the room. Deep, you-gotta-be-kidding, belly laughter. When Haven pulled herself together, she sat cross-legged and stared at Kyana. “The key? To Hell?”

  Kyana turned from the closet and held Haven’s gaze. If the subject weren’t so serious, Kyana would’ve laughed about it too. But it was serious. Until the key was found, the Dark Breeds would continue to wreak havoc on Earth. And until they discovered who unlocked Tartarus in the first place, the Chosen would continue to die.

  “You’re not kidding.”

  “No.” Kyana turned back to her closet. “I’m not kidding.”

  She stuffed clothes into the bag, then tossed it on the bed. As she dug through the chest of amulets Haven had made for her, Kyana continued, “My mission is to find the key and close Hell and give Above back to the humans.”

  “Sounds dangerous. Should be fun for you.” Haven nodded to the bag. “Where are you going?”

  Kyana tossed a handful of Illusion Charms into the bag and sat at the foot of the bed. “To the last kn
own place the creator of the key was. If Cronos took it with him when he was exiled, maybe I’ll find some clue as to who took it from the island when he died.”

  “Cronos? Good gravy. Why don’t you look more excited?” Haven scooted to the end of the bed and rested her hand on Kyana’s knee. “You’re after something big. You should be on cloud nine.”

  “I’m not exactly a beach bunny, and who knows if I’ll be able to find shelter from the sun there,” Kyana said. “If I can’t, I’ll have to spend most of my time as a Lychen.”

  Kyana didn’t have to explain to Haven why this was an issue. Though Kyana could fight in Lychen form, she was nowhere near as strong as she was in her Vampyric body. The wolf in her was an amazing tracer, but the Vampyre in her was what kept her fast and deadly. If she ran into trouble on that island, she would have to pray for sunset in order to remain confident in her abilities.

  Haven dug into the Greek salad she’d whipped up for dinner. The stench of feta cheese and black olives stank up Kyana’s bedroom. If it lingered on her Egyptian cotton sheets, she was going to rip Haven a new one.

  “So I’ll come with you, keep you juiced up on potions to sustain your energy while you’re a pup.”

  Kyana considered the option but just as quickly discarded it. She didn’t know what she would find on that island. Most likely nothing at all, but she didn’t want Haven in danger if she was wrong. However, Haven did have a good point. Kyana hated the thought of anyone walking blind into a potentially bad situation, but better a trained Healer than her best friend.

  Haven didn’t give Kyana a chance to verbally refuse before changing the subject.

  “Did you hear that Dallas just made its last evacuation? Sending another plane of refugee humans to D.C.”

  “What are they going to do there?” Kyana asked. “Last I heard, D.C. was infested worse than anywhere.” So many had fled to the three safe zones that the human military had closed the states, refusing to let anyone or anything in. She accepted that the humans needed to get out of the danger zones, but they should at least make sure the relocation zones were safe.