Page 19 of Wings and Shadowthief

"Evidently, Jackie." Fay's soft voice and sweet smile cleared some of the tension in the room. "You've proven that, even enduring undue torture at the hands of a friend, you wouldn't retaliate. You're not a danger to those you love."

Jack frowned. That explained Fay's presence. He'd wondered why she'd attended his beatings, when the woman wasn't a fighter, and had a pronounced dislike for violence. Now it made sense. His family was trying to prove that he wouldn't attack innocents. Fay was a vampire, turned after giving birth to William's two heirs, but she was as close to vulnerable as their kind ever got.

"I'mnot a danger, sure, but we still don't know what that thing would do."

Or what it had done.

Jack's mind traveled back to big brown eyes, long lashes, and dark, soft skin that smelled like sunshine.

Strange; it was possible that his alter ego might have killed in Russia, but what Jack truly couldn't forgive was that it had taken Gwen and fucked up his tentative friendship with the gorgeous witch. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. How dared he? How could thatthingtake advantage of him and Gwen? It must have realized what a mess it was leaving him in.

“Well, we know it won’t attack your old trainer, or your lovely aunt and uncle.” William got to his feet, offering a hand to his wife.

The duke and duchess were technically Tris’s family, not directly Jack’s.

Tris’s father, Adrian, was William’s brother, in every way that mattered. William’s insane father, who’d inspired the iconic Dracula, had built Adrian as a weapon, using blood magic and far too many spells on a dying newborn. Though they weren’t technically born of the same flesh, Adrian, William, and their elder brother, Michael Drake, the king of American vampires, shared Drake blood and all the powers that came with it. After centuries of fighting each other, they’d recently embraced each other to fight against the rest of the world.

The Drakes had a place on Night Hill, like any member of the seven families—though their house had also been blown to pieces last Halloween—but they didn’t care one way or another. Their home was New York, and they ruled it—along with the rest of America—with an iron fist. Not overly concerned with human affairs, they focused on paranormal creatures, but the American regular government didn’t often dare to step in any direction without checking with them first.

Tris’s mother, Trisha Hunter, bridged the gap between huntsmen and sups when she fell for Adrian. Until then, they’d been openly hostile, jumping at the slightest provocation. Trisha and her sister Becca put an end to it.

Jack remembered spending countless nights at the Drake tower growing up. Whenever his parents were on a mission, which was most evenings, he was left with his cousins. Only Trisha also worked all the time, which meant that the vampires in this room had picked up his toy knives and wiped his butt more often that he cared to admit.

They were family, and he couldn’t imagine ever hurting any of them. A lot of his friends often mistakenly believed Jack had a thing against vampires. That wasn’t anywhere close to the truth. What he fucking hated was having to kill any of them. Offing a bloodsucker, rogue or otherwise, felt like betraying his people.

Not that he’d ever tell anyone that. He liked to keep his weaknesses close to his chest.

“I get what you’re saying. I, and that thing, aren’t going to mess up here. But that doesn’t guarantee I won’t be a danger to a stranger in the street.” He didn’t understand the darker part of him, and that was dangerous. “I need to control it.”

“You may certainly attempt to. Michael managed to get your mother an appointment with the Salem witches in the morrow.” Jack had known William long enough to realize he didn’t approve from the thin line of his mouth. “Just remember: witch clans are rarely trustworthy, and never straightforward.”

Fay stuck her tongue out at her husband. “I resent that.”

William kissed the tip of her nose. “You weren’t raised in a coven, princess.” To Jack, he said, “I’ve known hundreds of witches, and liked several. A witch may think of helping you. A coven helps itself.”

Jack was aware of that. And vampire clans, shifter packs, even the huntsmen, functioned the same way, to an extent; the wellbeing of their peers came before anyone else’s.

Too bad he didn’t have a choice.

Into Darkness

It wasn’t the first time that Gwen hiked up the sinuous paths of Cosnoc, but she’d never ventured on the forbidden hill alone before.

Part of her wished she could ask Chloe, or any other friend, to accompany her. Another part knew alone was exactly what she needed to be right now.

Why Fin Varra had advised her to go to Eirikr, she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t about to ignore the ancient’s advice.

“Go on,” she whispered, egging herself on when her limbs refused to move.

There were strong spells woven along the way to deter intruders, but she’d fought through them before. The hexes targeted her fear receptors, making her feel like each step took her closer to her doom. Knowing it was just a trick should have worked, like it had in the past.

Today wasn’t as easy, because she’d already been afraid before taking one step on the hill.

Afraid for her friends, for her future, and above all, afraid of herself.

She was slow, but eventually, Eirikr’s cave appeared in the distance. Spotting her goal, Gwen willed herself to pick up the pace.

At the carved entryway, marked with archaic spells she couldn’t read, she paused. “Hello?”

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