In the time that had passed since her death, I’d reached a stalemate with my guilt. My logical side maintained that Vinca knew the dangers when she’d insisted she be included in the raid on the vineyard where my first showdown with Lavinia had occurred. But my conscience constantly reminded me that if I’d only been smarter, faster, better, I could have prevented her death.

Just as earlier tonight, I could have stayed with Brooks instead of leaving him alone and vulnerable while I pursued my own goals. Unlike Vinca, he hadn’t been fully briefed about the real dangers we all faced. Also, while Vinca died fighting in a battle she’d adopted as her own, Brooks had been ambushed and punished to send me a message. Hadn’t Lavinia promised as much? That those around me would suffer until I surrendered?

I glanced over at Giguhl, whose head hung in his claws. When he’d stormed into the courtyard shortly after I left Adam and Zen to work on Brooks, he’d gone ballistic with worry. It took both Georgia and me to restrain him from going to Brooks. Once he’d calmed down enough to collapse where he sat now, Georgia left to go find Mac. The were hadn’t answered her cell when we tried to call her, which obviously was a cause for alarm. Georgia promised to get in touch once she had news.

On the other side of Zen’s building, Bourbon Street’s Friday-night pre-Halloween party raged on. Tinny notes from brass instruments meshed with the pounding rhythmic basslines. Laughter and shouts punctuated the music.

Part of me longed to prowl through that street like the predator I was raised to be. The scent of fresh human blood was strong even where I sat, so removed from the action. But another part of me, one I didn’t quite recognize, longed to just observe the humans. To try and understand how they could forget their mortality long enough to dance in the streets.

Brooks was mortal, too. All fae were. That was the rub. They could heal themselves, and some fae species naturally lived longer than others. But when it came down to it, there was only so much damage magic could heal.

The rusty hinges on the back door squeaked to announce Adam’s arrival. His stoic expression gave nothing away. I stood slowly, wiped my damp palms on my jeans, and waited for him to share his news. Giguhl came to join us, his face tight with worry.

Worry lines creased Adam’s face, aging him. His white T-shirt was spattered with blood, like some sort of morbid Jackson Pollock painting. “The good news is he’s still alive,” he began.

I blew out a relieved breath. “Thank the gods.”

He held up a hand. “The bad is he might not make it through the night. He’s got extensive internal bleeding, and one of his lungs collapsed.”

Blood drained from my head in a rush. I bit my lip with my fangs, hoping the physical pain would override the emotions enough to help me stay focused.

“We have to take him to the hospital,” Giguhl said.

Adam shook his head sadly. “Not an option. Brooks’s fae heritage might present itself in bloodwork. And even if it doesn’t, they’ll ask too many questions about how he got hurt. Maybe bring in the cops.”

“How can you say that?” Giguhl demanded. “He needs help!”

“I know. But there’s another option.”

“Magic,” I said.

Adam nodded. “But not what you think. My healing powers are too rudimentary for this sort of work.”

“Voodoo?” Giguhl offered.

“Nope. Voodoo remedies are a lot like homeopathy. For big healing magic, you need a mage.”

I blinked. “But you said—”

“I said I couldn’t do it. But Aunt Rhea can.” He jerked a thumb toward the building. “Just called Orpheus before I came out. Rhea’s in Chicago, trying to convince the mages there to join the others at the Queen’s court. It took some fast talking, but I convinced him to send her here.”

“How soon?” I asked.

Just then the air shifted. A window on the second floor lit up with a sudden flash. Without another word, the three of us hauled ass inside.

Adam’s silver-haired aunt wasted no time in getting down to business. No warm greetings or demands for explanations. By the time we made our way into the room, she’d already taken the situation in hand.

“I need dried sage, fresh sprigs of lavender, a bag of salt— sea salt, not iodized— and a pair of blue and purple candles— pillars, not tapers.”

Zen nodded. “Got it.”

“Adam, tell me what you’ve tried so far.”

While he relayed the herbs and spells they’d tried, I stood beside Giguhl, holding his claw.

A groan came from the table as Brooks drifted back into consciousness.

Rhea stopped midsentence and bent over him. She placed a hand on his forehead and whispered something too low for me to hear. He settled immediately.

Turning back to Adam, she said, “We have to hurry. You and Sabina will assist.”

My mouth fell open. “What? I—”

“None of that. Get over here and help us heal your friend.”

One thing about Rhea, she may have looked like an earth mother, but when it came to giving orders she’d have given Patton a run for his money. I released Giguhl’s claw with a wan smile and went to stand next to Adam.

Zen rushed back in with her arms full. “I found everything you needed.”

With an economy of movements, Rhea made quick work of placing the candles at the four corners of the table.

“I’ll be in the hall if you need me,” Zen said quietly. Obviously, she didn’t want to be in the way. Rhea didn’t argue. Instead, she shot her friend a distracted but appreciative glance as she sprinkled Brooks’s body with lavender. “Take the demon with you, please.”

Giguhl obviously heard her, but instead of leaving, he crossed his arms and glared at us with a mulish expression.

“Giguhl, it’s okay,” I said. “We’ll call you back in as soon as it’s done.”

He crossed his arms. “No way.”

Rhea spoke up then. “Okay, but you stay out of the way and don’t make a sound. And whatever you do, don’t break the circle.”

He zipped his fingers across his lips and tried to be as invisible as possible. Naturally, it didn’t work at all, given it’s hard to miss a seven-foot-tall demon in sweatpants and a hot pink shirt that read Laissez les bons temps rouler.

I shot my minion an encouraging smile before giving Rhea my full attention. “Now what?”

“Pour the salt to make the circle. Make it wide enough so we can both move around the table.” She turned to Adam. “The second the circle is poured, light the candles. Blue first and then purple.”

While I cast the circle and Adam prepared to light the wicks, Rhea gathered the bundle of dried sage. She whispered something. The tip of the bundle sparked, and then tendrils of smoke curled up toward the ceiling. She walked clockwise around the table before turning and going the opposite direction.

“Sage clears out the bad energy and purifies the ritual space.” Her tone was the same one she’d used when she gave me my lessons in New York.

The circle was finished, so I set the bag under the table, careful not to inadvertently smudge the line. Adam quickly lit the candles as instructed. Then he took a spot across the table from me.

Rhea stepped up to stand over Brooks’s head. “We’re going to invoke a cone of power. If you’re ever alone you can do this by yourself, but we’re going to combine our energies for more potency.”

Adam closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the sage-scented air. His hands rose, and his left hand grasped my right. Rhea took my left and joined her left with Adam’s right. Together we formed a triangle inside the circle, which I remembered from my lessons lent even more power to the circle.

“Now,” Rhea whispered, “do you remember how I taught you to call on your powers?”

I did, of course, but I had a question. “Yeah, but aren’t my talents the exact opposite of what we need here?”

Frown lines formed on her forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Chthonic powers are mostly about death and destruction.”

Adam’s eyes popped open. I felt his gaze on me even as I continued to look at his aunt for explanation.

She shook her head emphatically. “On the contrary, my dear. Your Chthonic powers also give you an immense capacity for healing.”

“But how do I access that? Before I had to tap into the pit of rage inside me to use them.”

She smiled. “For healing, you tap into the deep well of love you try to keep hidden.”

I shifted on my feet, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. Adam’s hand tightened on mine. I cleared my throat. “Okay.”

“You ready?” Rhea asked.

“No.”

They knew I was lying, so they closed their eyes. I followed suit and tried to locate a part of myself I barely knew. I spent so much of my life denying that I had any emotions at all. Then I’d allowed myself to be fueled only by red-hot anger and a need for revenge. But now I searched the far corners of myself for anything resembling what I assumed love might look like.

Rhea began to speak in a low tone. The words were in Hekatian— the ancient magical language used in spell work and rituals by mages. Despite my limited knowledge of the language, I somehow understood their meaning. “Goddess Hekate, Mother of Magic and Night Queen, raise your torch, that your light may illuminate the path toward healing. Goddess Diana, Moon Maiden and Mother of the fae open our vision and protect your humble servant so he may live to carry out your will.”

Inside, I pushed below the black cloud of anger, vengeance, and fear hovering in my midsection. Farther down, I found a deep pool. With a trembling touch, I brushed the surface, causing a ripple. When the waters calmed again, I recognized faces just below the surface. Adam and Rhea were there, but so were Giguhl and Vinca. Brooks, too.

Something shifted and the waters rose up over me like a tide. Instead of the fiery power I called upon to destroy, this surge swelled gently. Warm instead of hot. The emotions here were deep purple instead of angry red. My chest filled— diaphragm swelling and ribs expanding. Pushed outward and up. Through my limbs and into my fingers. Rose in my throat like a primal call.