I turned back to my preparations. Europe awaited, and with it, the final components I needed to bring a certain king to his knees.
#
Foster Collins
I kept my speed exactly at the limit as I pulled away from the Bell homestead. No sense in drawing attention with a lead foot.
The bubble mailer on the passenger seat was another remnant of Serafina’s past, twisted to crack whatever peace she’d found with my Cimmerian boys. I should burn it like I did the cursed goat horn. But Arabesque was already suspicious, and I couldn’t afford to lose my position. Not when I had King Julian’s ear and innocent wolves counting on me to save them before everything went to hell.
The four-hour drive to Evermere stretched ahead, Michigan farmland rolling past my window. Perfect time to make some calls. I waited until I was twenty miles out, far enough that even Arabesque’s detection spells wouldn’t reach, before taking out my secure phone. The oneno oneknew about.
King Julian picked up on the third ring.
“I’m listening.”
“She’s heading to Europe,” I said without preamble. “Shopping trip, supposedly. Witches’ markets, apothecaries, black magic dealers.”
“When?”
“Today. For a week. Got the bounty from Austin Cho yesterday.”
A pause on the line.
“You think this trip is surveillance, not shopping?”
“Could be.” I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. “She’s been fixated on Prague lately. Maps, intel reports. The Woodland Realm might be her actual target.”
“Or it could be a decoy,” he said, voicing my own suspicion. “Make us think she’s looking at Prague to throw us off the scent. Force us to divert resources there while she strikes elsewhere.”
“Possible. She’s enjoying the confusion she’s creating.” I stared out at the empty highway. “All these kingdoms thinking they know who she’s targeting, all of them wrong.”
“What’s your assessment?”
I took my time to organize my thoughts. King Julian wasn’t just my employer; he was the most dangerous werewolf in North America. Giving him half-baked theories wasn’t an option.
“She’s planning something big. She ordered the apple orchard at the Bell homestead razed. Says she needs the space for something called a Hollowing Rite.”
“Never heard of it.” The king went silent, then exhaled heavily, a rare show of concern. “Continue monitoring. Report any specifics about this rite you discover.”
“Will do.” I hesitated, then pushed forward with my first request. “Call Baby Bell’s new papa and advise him to prepare for hostilities.”
“What?” A note of surprise entered the king’s voice. “Why?”
“Arabesque was talking about reaping the kid’s magic as soon as it manifests.” I shifted uncomfortably, remembering the cold gleam in her eyes. Definitely no maternal love there. “She knows the baby was adopted by parents you chose, but doesn’t appear to know who.”
“She will never touch that child!” King Julian snarled.
“I’m just the messenger,” I reminded him. “There’s more. She’s been hinting lately at looking for another husband. Preferably one with a lunar witch daughter or relative.”
“Like Jonathan Bell.”
“Exactly.” I ran a hand over my face, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t think she chose him for his isolation or naivety alone. The second she heard he had a lunar witch daughter, his fate was sealed.”
“So lunar magic is the key to whatever she’s planning.”
“Has to be. You should see her root cellar. Jars upon jars of stored lunar magic siphoned from Serafina. Others, too, but she’s favoring lunar. Whatever war she’s planning to declare, moon witches are playing a starring role.”
“I’ll have my people look into what Dark spells require lunar magic as well as information on the Hollowing Rite.”
