Much like his namesake, Vlad had risen into a leadership role in the good old-fashioned way—through bloodshed and treachery. The Grand Vizier might have the expression and demeanor of a friendly lap dog, but the man had a thirst for power, a thirst equal to that of the Talons. It was no accident he was the Grand Vizier. No one crossed him. Wizards were at the top of the magical food chain. Their only real enemies were dragons, and according to the latest census, those were extinct.
Vlad dismissed his secretary, took the room in a few long commanding strides, and clasped Rowan’s hand in a vise-like grip. “Glad you could come on such short notice. We have a record number of Wizards attending this year’s festival. Most of them arrived late this afternoon, which might make what I’m about to ask more difficult.”
“Constantine said it was urgent.”
“Let’s go out onto the terrace. There’s an old saying, ‘the walls have ears,’ and I don’t want to take any chances. I’ll bet humans aren’t aware the expression originated with Air Wizards who liked turning their enemies into castles.”
“Probably not.” Rowan wasn’t buying Vlad’s paranoia. The guy was living in a fortress and had routine security sweeps twice a day. There was another reason he wanted Rowan on the terrace. Target practice came to mind, with Rowan as the target. Or maybe Vlad wanted to make sure everyone knew Rowan was here.
Vlad surveyed the grounds like a king would survey his conquered domain.
Rowan walked to the edge of the terrace. He took his time responding because he knew it would piss off the Grand Vizier. It also gave him time to sort out why he’d been called to solve the mystery. Constantine and Vlad must be desperate. They didn’t like what they couldn’t control, and trying to control a Fire Wizard was a gamble few risked taking.
Rowan leaned against the iron railing. Vlad was being patient, which only made Rowan more suspicious. Two could play that game.
Late afternoon melted into dusk. A new moon was rising, and stars were hidden behind thick clouds. The Grey Council had chosen an ideal location for one of their compounds. The site was secluded. Secrecy was a main component for the magical community. At the height of the Wizard’s power, when they numbered in the thousands, instead of hundreds, Bealtaine had been held out in the open.
Over the centuries, humans became jealous of magical communities, and they, along with the Wizards, were hunted and faced extinction. Then the Grey Council was approached by a human governing body who called themselves The Talons. They would offer protection, if the Grey Council agreed to theirconditions. An uneasy truce was formed. It didn’t take a seer to foresee that it was falling apart.
Vlad broke the silence. “Did President Constantine fill you in?”
“Constantine didn’t say much, other than someone was murdering Wizards and making it look like a drug overdose. We have enemies and a lot of people who want us dead. What information do you have so far about the murders?”
“On each victim, the eyes were gouged out and an autopsy showed a high level of drugs in the Wizard’s bloodstream. Each was overdosed. We think the murderer could be one of the Talons or a member of the Grey Council.”
“That’s a big leap.” Rowan didn’t like Vlad’s assessment. None of it made sense. Vlad had blown by any thought one of their enemies could be a suspect. “Gouging out a Wizard’s eyes takes away his power, making him as vulnerable as a human. Did you find out what drugs were used?”
Vlad reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, handing Rowan a clear plastic bag containing a white powdery substance. “This was found attached to the most recent Wizard, with a note.”
“Cocaine?”
“I wish. Look closer.”
Rowan held it near an electric sconce attached to the stone wall. Specks of crystals sparkled like they’d captured the Aurora Borealis. “What is that?”
“The note claims the drug is poison to Wizards. It’s called‘Magic Carpet Ride.’”
“Do we know what whoever’s behind this wants?”
“That’s why President Constantine asked you here. He wants you to stay for the festival and see what you can find out.”
“Why me? You have enough soldiers to invade and take over a small country.”
“Actually, a continent would be closer to the truth.” Vlad laughed, a grating sound that reminded Rowan more of tectonic plates rubbing together than spontaneous humor. “But now is not the right time. Soon, perhaps. Why you, you ask? Simple. Everyone knows you don’t trust either the Talons or the Grey Council, so people will believe you if—no,whenyou find the murderer.”
Vlad might not be exaggerating about the size of his army, his intent to take over the world, and his reasoning for asking Rowan to take over the case, but he was lying about his involvement. Rowan could smell it on him.
Chapter Five
Morgan stood behind a heavy red-velvet curtain on the Talons and Grey Council’s island compound as a new resolve wove through her. She must not fail Caitlin’s request to do her part. Morgan had learned that two female Wizards had just died of heart attacks a few hours ago, with their deaths declared a result of natural cause. Both were around her age. Thirty-five.
She gripped the curtain, fighting the impulse to rip it down. She had to trust that the plans would work for both kidnapping the children before they were taken from the island and helping her sisters escape not only the island but the threat of these premature deaths. No one knew if escaping the control of the Earth Wizards would prolong a female Water Wizard’s life or shorten it, but Caitlin believed it worth the risk. The plan was to leave the women’s compound on the island and seek refuge with the magical community.
As part of the plan, Morgan had taken special care with the Siren Glamour spell. It cloaked her identity and made her irresistible to any male Wizard she chose as her mate during the festival. Her task was to choose Rowan.
Each new dawn, male Wizards were initiated, the weapons and tools of their trade dedicated and blessed, and vows of loyalty given. But the seven nights leading to Bealtaine were devoted to lovemaking and was the only time a female Wizard could become pregnant. The consequences of the festival were too important for a female Wizard to leave to chance. They had to choose their mates wisely.
The marble terrace where she stood swept onto lush gardens with ponds decorated with Greek and Roman statues. Music from harps and flutes floated through the air like soft-flowing mountain streams. Its beauty was an illusion, created to reduce inhibitions and fuel passion.
