“What did the ’goyles at the gates have to say?” Koa asked as we dug into our snacky snacks.
“They have two orders from Father.” Casimir’s jaw worked like he was chewing glass, not delicious loaded nachos. “Detain any intruder who enters the property between moonrise and moonset.”
“So we have a whole damn dungeon to interrogate?” Ko lit up at the prospect, only to deflate when Cas shook his head.
“None. Today, the only car they saw before us was a black Mercedes with three women and a dire wolf pup that drove up to the house, stayed for eight minutes and twelve seconds, then left with only two of the females.”
“Our beloved being delivered,” Ko rumbled. “Cruor! I can’t wait to get my hands around the necks of those two bitches, whoever they are.”
“What was their second order, Cas?” I prompted before his anger uncontained itself.
“Their loyalty transferred to us when we moved in.”
“Cool, cool.” I built a towering topping pile on a tortilla chip and wedged it into my mouth. “Now wha abou ouh goul?”
“Swallow before speaking, you crustacean,” Cas scolded. “And about our girl, we proceed carefully. Arabesque could have deep claws in her. Claws that we may have to extract delicately.”
“Delicately?” I snorted. “Aw, hell, no! We’re guns-up on this one all the way! I want that Sicilian witch’s head preserved so I can hang it on our front door every Halloween!”
“Arabesque is Brazilian, not Sicilian, loser.” Ko flicked a jalapeno at me. “Otherwise, yeah. It’s game on forProject: Witch Head Hunters.”
“For the last time, we’re not calling it—”
“How aboutMission: Dad-possible?” I cut in, grinning as Cas’ left eye started twitching. “Come on, bro. Dial the old man before I start beatboxing your ringtone.”
Scowling, Cas stabbed at his phone, spiderwebbing the whole screen now. Damn! Big bro needed some serious chill in his life.
Two rings, then the silken poison of our father’s voice oozed through.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Casimir?”
“Do you have our bride’s photo?”
A pause, then all our phones chimed.
An image filled my screen. Obviously covert to go by the angle. Golden curls in a riot. Face half buried in familiar wolf fur. Gray eyes wide with enough fear to choke an elephant.
My ribs caved in.
“When was it taken?” Cas asked.
“Earlier today. She had an audience with King Julian.”
Cas and I exchanged a confused look. How was the werewolf king involved in this?
“Eyes are the same.” The tip of Ko’s forefinger brushed his phone screen, gentle as a feather, and I knew he didn’t mean the color.
“So shehasarrived,” Lucian purred. “Good. I’ll send an officiant tomorrow—”
“Our bride’s our beloved.” I tossed my phone on the counter. “Cas, send him the pic Iknowyou took.”
His glare should have slit my throat, but his thumb bounced across his busted-up screen.
A beat later, and frost crackled through the line.
“So Arabesque sends a warning and a challenge,” Lucian murmured.
“Did you plant a spy in the Harrow household yet?” Koa barked before Cas or I could reply.
