There was no one there. Not even the lime-colored parrots that liked to roost there, smug and loud, like it was their right. Just the dense sort of fog that tended to roll in over the water on warm nights like this one.
Cal.
Kaz lowered his gun. Shoving it back into the holster he always wore, he silently cursed his itchy trigger finger. Ofcourseit was Cal. No one but his friend, his family, and his team knew he owned this apartment. Even if an enemy somehow did break through the mesh of wards and security technology that made it a fortress, he doubted anyone would be stupid enough toknock.
Wiping his clammy palms on his jeans, he stomped around the couch, through the open dining space, and over to the balcony doors. A touch of his hand to the locking mechanism in the wall prompted it to slide open on silent rollers.
“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack,” he growled, stepping back to allow his friend in.
The fog crept inside, moving gracefully but in no way naturally, to cover the dark wood floor. Kaz blinked and it was gone.
In its place, a broad-shouldered, pale-skinned man stood — as naked as the day he was made.
Calamity stood calmly in the face of Kaz’s ire. He was a suspicious sort and had seen enough in his century of watching over the city to be mostly unflappable.
Neither was entirely surewhenthey became friends, only that they were. At some point their mutual exchange of favors had become a tentative alliance. It suited them both, and though neither were the kind to open up about their feelings, they were intensely loyal to one another.
Perhaps it was because they were both loners, or maybe it was their mutual hatred for his father that bound them together. Whatever the reason, they looked out for one another.
Kaz had worried over the fact that he was the only one to care whether Cal lived or died, but a few years ago, the elemental had shocked him by mating with a weather witch — a journalist who’d gone on to make Cal something of a celebrity by publishing his life story in a bestselling book.
“I don’t see why you’re surprised. I doubt anyone besides me would be tapping on your window at nine o’clock on a Tuesday.”
“I know for a fact that you know how to use a phone,” Kaz grunted. “You could text me when you want to drop by.”
Cal waved his complaint away with one bone-white, long-fingered hand. His hair, a mass of silvery strands that reached his waist, waved in an invisible current when he said, “I only use the phone to speak with my sister. And this isn’t a social visit.”
The fine hair on the back of his neck stood up. The last time Cal showed up with information, it was when he discovered the man who helped bomb Margot’s Healing House: a dumbass were named Roger, who Kaz was now reluctantly responsible for managing. He was a coward, but at least he was a half-decent informant.
“What’s wrong?”
“You asked me to let you know if I ever heard anything about your witch.”
“She’snotmy—”
Cal’s eyes, inky black with neither sclera nor pupil, couldn’t exactlyroll,but the feeling was there. “If she’s not yours, then maybe you don’t need to know that three gargoyles associated with the McCoran clan are planning to abduct her tonight.”
Kaz was a decisive man. He didn’t have the Solbourne name, but he had their quick thinking, their boldness. Normally he did not hesitate. In his line of work, he couldn’t afford to. When you traded in secrets and intimidation, hesitation got you killed.
Or worse: it got someone you loved killed.
But when Cal’s words registered, his mind did not immediately jump into action, sorting out the best possible plan of attack, the suspect list, the things he would need to do to keep his people safe. It didn’t do anything at all.
He went simply… blank.
For what felt like several long seconds, his mind stalled out, wiped completely clean.
And then there was rage.
All non-essential parts of him stayed shut down as the cold, distinctly elvish fury scorched a path through his psyche.
He protected his people. It was the only constructive way he’d found to channel his brimming aggression, and over time it had become an essential part of his being and self-worth.
Atria was a threat to his equilibrium and the fortress he’d built around himself, but she was alsohis.His people.Hismate. His to protect — from himself but also from the world.
He didn’t waste time doubting his friend. If Cal said there was danger, there was. Cal dedicated his life to protecting the city his birth had very nearly destroyed, and over the many decades since had developed a keen sense for when something was wrong. If he said Atria was in danger, it was simply a fact.
In a deceptively calm voice, Kaz asked, “Who?”
