“You think Mercer is involved, don’t you?” I ask as he parks the Porsche in the lot of the British Museum, per her instructions. “I thought it was just you being cautious when we arrived to pick up the weapons and car, but the mage at the airport arrived almost the same time I did. That can’t be a coincidence.”
A tic appears in his jaw. “She might be Fae, but she had a hell of a lot of mages working for her. It struck me as odd. They aren’t known to associate with each other.”
“Let’s wait and see who shows up for the car,” I tell him, dragging him behind the building. “Harlequin isn’t a fan of the council, and by extension, those like you who lead their security teams, even if you’re temporarily on the run. But I can’t believe they would have anything to do with humans either.”
A minute goes by. Then another. A shimmer appears near the car, barely discernible in the twilight. I tap Jamison’s arm, and he nods.
“What is it?” he quietly asks.
“A portal,” I reply right as an elegantly clad Mercer steps out of it.
A tall, blond elf steps out behind her and grabs her arm. She shakes him off, then turns and jabs her finger into his chest. We can’t hear what she’s saying, but it’s obviously not good. A thunderous expression crosses his face. She throws up her hands, strides over to the car and gets in, peeling out of the parking lot like a seriously pissed off woman.
“Lover’s spat?” I murmur, not wanting the elf to hear us.
“I’ve seen him somewhere,” Jamison replies, his brow furrowed. “Can’t remember where, though. Maybe I’ll think of it later. I wonder who created the portal. I’ve never seen one so transparent.”
“Gatlin said the same thing. I’ve always avoided portals, so I didn’t realize there was much difference in them,” I say with a shrug.
“You’re afraid of them, aren’t you? We’ve all noticed it.” His keen eyes are focused intently on me. “Why?”
Because they steal the people you love. Not wanting to lie to him, I change the subject.
“Speaking of…” I say, tapping my watch. “We should have left ten minutes ago.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t pursue it. He takes my hand and creates his own portal in the shadows and pulls me into it. When we step out at the other end, Gatlin is waiting for us. Jamison sways for a second but quickly gains his equilibrium.
Wearing a thunderous scowl, he glares at the two of us. “That’s the last time we’re splitting up. I’ve had it. Every time we do, one of us gets injured.” His keen eyes scan both of us, lingering on the button-down I’m wearing, clearly Jamison’s. “Do I need to get the healer?”
“I’m good,” I promise him. He lifts an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe me. “It’s true.” I lift the corner of my shirt and show him my smooth abdomen.
His golden gaze intensifies, but Jamison clears his throat, interrupting the moment between us. “Did you get everything on the list?”
“We have all the weapons,” Gatlin informs him. “More guards arrived toward the end, but Mercer, your Fae contact, created a diversion and helped them escape.”
I whistle. “Maybe that’s why they were fighting.”
Jamison nods and explains the scene we saw at the museum. “Possibly. What can you tell me about Harlequin?”
“Mercer is the only one I’ve ever dealt with,” I reply with a frown. “I could ask Maverick or Charlie. They’re the ones who hooked me up with Mercer. It was a long time ago, though.”
Gatlin opens the car and motions for me to enter. The door shuts with a soft click.
Jamison gets into the front passenger seat and turns to me. “It couldn’t hurt. I’m curious about them. The fact they’ve managed to stay hidden from the council is incredible. But why? What is their angle? Supernaturals don’t have any laws against commerce or weapons.”
Happy to have found a supplier, I never really thought of it. I pick up my phone and shoot off a text to Maverick and Charlie, asking for some insight into our mutual friends.
Maverick: Not a door you want to open.
Phaedra: Do they have anything to do with the coup?
It’s a risk to ask, but I trust Maverick.
Maverick: Maybe, maybe not. They have fingers in a lot of pies. And their reach is longer than the council’s. Stay off their radar.
Phaedra: Might be too late.
Maverick: I hope not. Call if you need us.
