Stryker was a man of his word. His silver Jag was parked a few yards away. Rowan ducked into the passenger’s side. “I’m disappointed, little brother. I thought you’d be driving a Jeep?”
“It’s on order.” Stryker revved the engine and headed toward the gate, braking to a dead stop to inform the guard they were going for coffee. Rowan wasn’t surprised the man let them pass. Challenging two Fire Wizards was never a good idea unless you had a desire to be turned into a flaming tiki torch.
When they cleared the compound, Rowan rolled down his window. “Are you going to tell me the real reason for the sudden obsession with gourmet coffee?”
Stryker headed toward a winding road that bordered the ocean. He kept one hand on the steering wheel and turned on music with the other. The sound was a combination of electronic and classical Stryker had mixed himself, which fit into his computer-nerd persona. He attended comic book conventions in Europe, science fiction conventions in the States, and Renaissance fairs around the globe with equal enthusiasm. The Grey Council disapproved, saying he should keep a low profile. Rowan smiled, leaning back. His little brother didn’t do low profile.
Stryker took a bend in the road without slowing down. “Ready for the really bad news?”
“Worse than finding out there’s someone killing male Wizards and that the female Wizards vanished?”
“You be the judge. One of the female Wizards died before the start of the festival.”
Rowan whistled under his breath, glancing out the window at the cliffs below. The waves foamed with angry white caps that beat against the rocks as though they meant to tear down the cliffs. That tracked. A female Wizard’s power was water,and it appeared that the ocean was mourning the death. There was a shift in the atmosphere, and for some reason he hadn’t picked up on it. Why hadn’t he known—or at least felt—what was happening? It had to be the residual effects of the spells the female Wizards had created. No wonder he’d had such a powerful magical hangover.
He didn't like it when a Wizard died, but for some reason it was worse when it was a female. It wasn’t that there were so few of them, it was that their essence helped create calmness in the magical community. With each death the world seemed to grow more volatile, more hostile, less safe.
“How old was she?”
“Her name was Caitlin, and she was thirty-five years old, so the Grey Council didn’t break a sweat. The official word was that female Wizards usually die around that age. But get this—she was the female Water Wizards’ leader. Then two more female Wizards died this morning.”
Rowan felt a shiver ride his spine and balled his hands into fists as he remembered the woman he’d slept with last night. Female Wizards died young, that was the rationale for the Grey Council forbidding involvement. No one questionedwhythey died so young. Maybe it was time someone did.
Worrying that the woman he’d slept with had been one of those who died this morning, he kept his voice calmer than he felt. Rowan focused on another question. “Do they know their names or what they look like?” He almost laughed at his own question. She hadn’t told him her name. He thought he’d recognize her if he ever saw her again but figured that was more wishful thinking than reality.
“Their identities are being kept secret, and their deaths are nothing that would draw suspicion. Like always, their hearts just stopped beating…on the same night female Wizards and children vanish. Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“We don’t believe in coincidences.”
“No, we do not.”
Rowan heaved a sigh. “I’ve never heard of a female Wizard dying during Bealtaine.”
“Me either.” Stryker tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in tune to the high octane beat. Percussion instruments folded into the melody as Stryker sped around another corner. “There’s more. I awoke a little after midnight to a cold bed. The enchanting goddess who’d chosen me was standing outside our tent, talking to another woman. By her height and green aura, I guessed it was a female Troll. I heard yesterday that the president of the Talons has an obsession for female Trolls. The women didn’t know I was awake, but I caught only random words and phrases. I was still under a heavy cloud of spells. Hard to tell what was real. What Ididlearn was that they believed all three women were murdered.”
Stryker’s comments hung in the air like silence before a raging firestorm. Rowan whistled low under his breath, trying to remain calm and failing. “Why didn’t they come to us? We would have protected them.”
Stryker snapped off the music and slid a glance toward Rowan. Stryker’s anger looked like it was boiling beneath the surface. “You’ve been out of touch for a long time, big brother. And female Wizards don’t trust anyone with a cock.”
Rowan nodded slowly, knowing his brother had hit the mark. His blood simmered. He and his fellow Wizards had failed to protect their women. “Did you ask the woman you were with about the conversation she’d had with the female Troll?”
“Of course, and then she started taking off her clothes and I lost my train of thought. I’m hoping she cast a spell over me to turn my brain to mush instead of my being a complete tool.”
Rowan shrugged. “We’ll stick with the spell theory. If they don’t want you to know something, it stays that way.”
Stryker shook his head slowly. “She hit me with another wave of spells. One minute we were making love and the next I was unconscious. When I awoke, I learned that of the scores of female Wizards attending Bealtaine, only seven have been seen. Vlad, in his colossal stupidity, ordered the remaining female Wizards locked up and interrogated, believing he could contain the situation.”
Rowan watched the scenery blur past, like so many lost opportunities. “Let me guess—the remaining female Wizards announced they’d commit mass suicide if he so much as came near them. Any idea how the others escaped the island? The only way on or off is by boat or plane.”
“Debris from Vlad’s yacht was discovered in the bay. Our Grand Vizier believes they all drowned, pointing out how unpredictable the waters in the Salish Sea and Canadian San Juans are this time of year.”
“That’s insane. They’re Water Wizards. Water protects them. They would never drown.”
Stryker rolled his eyes. “Exactly. Earth Wizards aren’t that bright. Fortunately, someone reminded him of your point. His abridged theory is that they smuggled on board two planes carrying a load of caterers and staff that took off before dawn.”
“You just said they don’t trust men. Why would they risk flying in a plane in the domain of Air Wizards?”
“Like I said, Earth Wizards are dumb as mud. Now for our real destination. Remember the male Troll who hitched a ride with you yesterday? Well, for some reason he trusts us and believes he knows where the women are headed. That’s why we need your jet.”
