“Okay, well…” I held up a finger. “There aren’t many mages as powerful as I am. Sebastian is nearly my equal. He’singenious, but I have spellbooks that are supposedly taboo these days.” I thought about what Sebastian said. “If Momar got ahold of them, I suspect he’d be giddy.”
“Dangerous books, then.”
“They are in a very safe place, trust me. A magical house isn’t something people escape from.”
His head thumped back against the lounge. “I thought I was well-read but today has thrown me.”
“You’ll get used to it, unless Edgar comes and talks to you. You don’t get used to that. Run. Don’t cross that bridge until you are forced.”
He chuckled and ran his hand down his face. “To borrow a phrase from my grandma, what a trip.”
I frowned at him. “How old are you again?”
He didn’t seem to hear. “If we hand over Tilda and the others to the Guild, Sebastian said the Guild would probably leave us alone and we could stay hidden on this mountain and be fine.”
“Except you won’t turn them over, and you won’t kill them. That’s not your style.”
“No, it isn’t. I’m not at the stage where I kill in tepid blood.”
“Tepidblood, huh?” I laughed.
“But that’s not the point,” he continued. “We wouldprobablybe fine. The Guild, or Momar,probablywouldn’t hold a grudge and wipe us out for spite.”
“There are no assurances when it comes to those groups.”
He fell silent again, and I let time pass. An emotion came through the Ivy House link from Niamh: impatience. I wondered who was annoying her. Everyone else seemed fine.
“But what about people that aren’t hidden away on a rural mountain?” he said quietly. “What about people who don’t have you to rush in at the last minute and save them from themselves? What if the Guilddoeshold a grudge or Momar wants a little sport? What then?”
We both knew the answer to that. That’s why Austin and I were here, asking for help with the convocation, after all.
“I’d planned to hear you guys out,” Drex said. “If you were in any way decent, I’d planned to join the convocation and help you sway others. I know my voice is loud in the original alpha sphere. People tend to listen when I speak, probably because I don’t speak often.” Once again he paused. “But I see now how shallow my support would’ve been. I see what is needed—what Alpha Kingsley envisioned and what you two are building. Sitting here in a peaceful town on my mountain is, at best, a waste of my skill and power. At worst, it is lethal to this pack.”
“What will you do?”
He took a deep breath. “Join the fight. Not just the convocation, but the actual fight. The next time I go against mages, my pack will be better prepared. It’s time to move again, this time for good. It’s time to establish myself in a busier place and join the shifter world in a meaningful way.”
“No more madman persona?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t say that.” He grinned. “Lord help any shifter who tries to take this pack from me.” He downed the rest of his sparkling wine. “Come on. Niamh requested I grab you. They want to talk to Tilda now.”
Ah. Now Niamh’s impatience made sense.
“Should I be dreading this?” I grabbed my glass and stood with him. He stepped out of the way for me to go first.
“I don’t know, and because I don’t know,Iam dreading it.”
Fair.
Tilda sat in a chair in the middle of Drex’s living room. The coffee table and couches had all been pushed to the walls to allow more space. Niamh sat in one of the chairs in the corner and Sebastian and Nessa stood to either side of Tilda. They’d donned their Elliot Graves and the Captain attire, and both were splattered with crimson. They were very good at mental warfare.Broken Sue and Aurora were against the walls, one at the front of Tilda and one at the back, probably watching for body language. Austin sat on the couch to the side.
“Did ya get lost or what?” Niamh demanded when we entered.
“Nah.” Drex took my glass. “I took a page out of your book and poured myself a drink.”
Niamh’s brow lowered, but amusement lit her eyes. “Sure, ye need a cooler. Do two things at once, like.”
“Okay, Jessie.” Nessa bounded over, her ponytail bobbing. “Everyone in this room knows the sordid history of Miss Tilda here. You know a little, and that is plenty. You don’t need to hear the rest. Just trust us that it is bad.”
