red and white Mini was a blast to drive up Highway 179 through the walls of rocks and around the curves threading through the pines on the way to the secluded community hidden in the hills. Theia drove an automatic hybrid, which didn’t quite have the same kick.
“So what did you want to pick up, anyway?”
“Some papers Rafe’s dad kept. He said there’s some stuff about the original Covent and Madeleine Marchant I might want for my genealogy research.” There was no point in giving Rhea ammo to tease her by letting know she was researching Lucien Smok.
“Don’t we know all we need to about her?”
“Nothing is ever all you need to know about anything.”
Rhea rolled her eyes. “Right. I forgot I was talking to Brainiac’s daughter.”
“So you’re not at all curious about the origins of our Lilith blood.”
“I just think you can overanalyze things. A little mystery in life is nice.”
Mystery was exactly what Theia didn’t want. She liked to know the whys and wherefores of things. Knowledge was power. And mystery... As far as Theia was concerned, mystery was danger.
Lucien watched the revenant from the rooftop. Starlight lent a pale, unearthly glow to the proceedings as it swallowed up the dusk, leaving the red landscape sepia toned and casting flat, colorless shadows. The demon wore cowboy boots and a leather duster with a gambler-style cowboy hat, his horse tacked up in the Western style, but this was a Hunt wraith, an undead revenant of the Viking era who roamed the earth in search of dark souls. Less substantial wraiths rode beside him, their mounts, like themselves, phantoms. No one would notice them, even staring at them head-on. No one but a black-souled phantom like himself.
But the leader was different. He was no phantom but flesh and bone, unnaturally maintained, living tissue that ought to have perished centuries ago. And Lucien had seen him before. Just hours before—at the wedding of Rafael Diamante to Phoebe Carlisle.
Lucien followed the horse’s trajectory, tracking the revenant with the scope on his crossbow. He’d slipped a little something into the Viking’s drink to see if he could trigger him. The most it had done was to get him arguing with Dev Gideon, the eldest Carlisle sister’s faithful companion. Rumor had it Dev was a shape-shifter, part man, part demon himself. The entire Carlisle family seemed to be magnets for unnatural beings. Not surprising, given their bloodline.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d decided to check out the Carlisle sisters for himself, but Theia’s large, passionate eyes challenging him with far more moxie than her slight frame warranted was certainly not it. He hadn’t expected someone witty and intelligent who took no shit. She hadn’t fallen for his player persona. And she hadn’t been impressed by his name—if anything, there’d been a little sneer on her face when she’d heard it—or acted impressed by his family’s money. But maybe it was a different kind of power that impressed the Carlisle women. The kind that was infernal in origin. If only she knew.
Lucien turned in a slow arc to follow the horseman with his scope. Leo Ström’s origins were what concerned him right now. How had he come to be the leader of the Wild Hunt? And what was the Hunt doing appearing on a lovely spring evening in Sedona, Arizona? Traditionally, it was said to appear around the winter solstice and was better suited to snowier climes.
They’d scented someone now, it seemed, and even from this distance, Lucien thought he heard their victory hoots as the phantom storm that followed them swallowed up their victim and they disappeared into the night, leaving it calm and warm.
He’d have to find out more about this Leo Ström. The man was involved with Theia’s twin, Rhea, which could mean anything in terms of unnatural origin. It might even be Rhea’s own magic animating him. It was unlikely she’d created the revenant herself, since the long dead were nearly impossible to give a convincing living appearance to, no matter how much magic the practitioner had. So perhaps she’d taken possession of a revenant created by some other unnatural power. And Lucien just happened to have access to information on any of a number of unnatural powers.
He stashed his gear and changed into something more appropriate. People might talk if he showed up at Polly’s dressed like a cat burglar.
* * *
Polly was entertaining in her booth when Lucien walked in. Aware of her out of the corner of his eye, he made a point of not glancing in her direction, knowing it would drive her crazy. His ploy worked, and in less than five minutes, she’d ditched her patrons and sauntered over to the bar where he stood waiting for his drink.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She lifted her drawn-on nearly crimson brows with a little smirk as she leaned back against the bar beside him and raised her voice for the bartender’s benefit. “Whatever he’s having, it’s on the house.”
Lucien put down a twenty as the craft beer arrived. “That’s sweet, but I’ve got it covered.”
Polly pushed the bill across the slick wood toward the bartender. “That’s a tip.”
Lucien sipped his beer. “You’re such a control freak.”
“I like to treat my friends well.”
“Oh, we’re friends now?” Lucien turned to mimic her stance, elbows back against the bar.
Polly flipped her cherry-red hair over her shoulder, nails painted a dazzling sapphire blue. “Well, maybe frenemies.”
“Seems fair.”
“So what brings you back to my neck of the woods?”
“Edgar does.” He always used his father’s first name, never calling him Dad or Pop. “Smok Biotech is partnering with Northern Arizona University on a new venture. He sent me to supervise.”
“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing in Sedona. NAU is in Flagstaff.”
“I know where it is.” Lucien took a swig of his beer. “Went to a wedding.”
Polly’s eyes sparkled with interest. “The Diamante wedding? Lucky you. Those invitations were highly coveted.”
Lucien shrugged. “I didn’t say I was invited.”
Polly laughed. “Of course you weren’t. So you crashed the quetzal’s wedding and now you’re slumming at my joint. Who are you after?”
“Who says I’m after anyone?”
Crimson waves swayed as she shook her head. “Darling, don’t grift a grifter.”
He finished his beer and set the bottle on the bar. “What do you know about the Wild Hunt?”
Polly pushed away from the bar and grabbed his hand, drawing him with her through the jostling patrons trying to get the bartender’s attention. The joint was hopping tonight.
She led him to her booth, where the patrons she’d ditched were still waiting. “Meeting’s over, boys. I’ll get back to you when I hear anything.”
The two pale twentysomething men with slicked-back blond hair shrugged and scooted out of the booth.
One of them frowned and hung back as she slid onto the seat. “Don’t make us wait too long. The consequences may be dire.”
“Stop being so dramatic, Kip.”
Lucien sat on the bench. “Kip?”
Polly grinned. “Preppy vampires turned in the ’80s. Eternally embarrassing.” She gestured to one of her staff, presumably ordering a bottle of something. “So why do you want to know about the Hunt?
“Because I saw it tonight. And unless I’ve been doing way too much molly, it’s May, not December.”
“You