Then the vampires: Kazimir and Lucia, plus two others who stood so still I wondered if they were actual statues.
The room was alive with tension, but nobody spoke. Instead, all eyes were on the map spread out across the table—a massive, glossy printout of the Texas Panhandle, with Palo Duro Canyon circled in red multiple times, as if someone wanted to burn a hole through the paper.
I drifted to the edge of the table, taking it in.
Menace noticed me first. He raised a brow and grinned. “Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour. Ready for showtime, Gunner?”
“Always,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Doc materialized at my shoulder, some kind of smoothie in hand. “Nice of you to join us. The witches want a blood sample before we go.” He produced a tiny kit, already loaded with a fresh needle.
“Now?” I asked, but held out my arm.
“Now,” he confirmed. “They need to tune the ritual to your signature. Makes it easier to breach the veil without frying your brain.”
I looked away as he drew blood, focusing instead on the witches. One of them—a sharp-featured woman with silver braids—was painting sigils on the map with a brush dipped in what I hoped was just ink. She didn’t look up as she worked, but her hand was rock steady.
“Is that going to work?” I asked nobody in particular.
“Best shot we’ve got,” said Wrecker, who was manning a laptop patched into the kitchen Wi-Fi, monitoring satellite images and comms from the compound perimeter. “This particular witch can breach a shielded safe house from five miles out. It’s good to have us all accounted for.”
There was a sudden silence, and then the room seemed to chill as if Jack Frost had blown by.
Archon entered, flanked by four enforcers.
They didn’t look like the angels in stained glass: no wings bared, no halos. Instead, they wore immaculate white suits, their hair cut close, eyes a shade of gold that seemed to pierce everything they landed on. Their movements were synchronized, fluid, and more than a little terrifying.
Doc nearly spat out his smoothie. “Jesus Christ.”
Menace whistled, low and impressed. “Didn’t know we rated the full Seraph response.”
Archon smiled, and it was both kind and deadly. “The Council requests observance, but the Dominion requires enforcement. When a demon king crosses the line, we attend personally.”
I stared at the four enforcers. “Holy shit.”
Archon turned to me. “Nah, it’s just ordinary.” He winked.
That was enough to break the tension for a moment, and laughs carried through the room.
Rafe looked up from the map, his dark eyes gleaming. “So, what’s the plan?”
Bronc leaned forward, spreading his hands over the table. “According to the angel, Maltraz is most reachable at the canyon. The witches will protect the entrance to the gate after Archon commands its opening. The wolves will form the vanguard. Vampires on flanks. Angels will then provide oversight and keep the humans away. Dominion Law prohibits their entrance to any hellscape. We fight our way through, locate Brie and extract fast.”
Menace added, “No heroics. If it gets hairy, fall back. Our primary objective is Brie. Secondary is to fuck up Maltraz’s operation as much as possible.”
Wrecker clicked through a set of maps, highlighting choke points and cover. “We’ll have drone eyes over the Canyon, and Parker’s running point from here. Any movement, any weirdness, we’ll know.”
Aspen slipped into the room, wearing a battered leather jacket, a black tunic, and black leggings. She looked more witch than baker today, herhair up in a high pony, a silver chain around her neck. Oscar the prairie dog was nowhere to be seen, but I had a feeling he was lurking in a pocket somewhere.
She caught my eye and smiled tentatively, but brave. “Hey, Gunner. You good?”
I nodded. “Thanks to you. And Archon.”
She stood beside me, arms crossed. “We’re going to get our girl. I believe that.” She set her hand over mine. “I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”
I swallowed hard, felt the fire settle into my bones. “Okay,” I said, then louder, “Okay.”
I tried to say thank you, but my voice didn’t want to cooperate.
