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  Standing before the tripous, Caia raised her hand over the bowl. She was using her other hand this time, the one with the annulet. She took the dagger and sliced deeper than before, cutting through the silver symbol on her palm, ignoring the searing pain. Her blood trickled into the bowl. Once there was enough, she morphed her hand to wolf and back again, regenerating her skin so only a faint red line was left. Exhaling, she then placed the tips of her fingers into the blood and pushed a flow of her magik energy into it.

  “Mother Gaia, hear my plea. I ask that you take back the gift of trace from your children and let us live liberated in a new world … forever your undying servants, forever loving.”

  Over and over she repeated the words the Council had advised her to use, and for a while, it seemed as if their endeavor was futile. But on the tenth round of the rite, Caia felt the beginnings of an inexplicable shudder jolting through her. At first she thought the ground was moving, but as she looked down, she found it still as glass. A fierce jerk knocked her back from the altar, and she shook uncontrollably. Panic suffused her as her teeth chattered and her brain jiggled in her skull. It grew fiercer and more painful, feeling as if her very organs were smacking against her bones and muscles.

  And then the eye-watering pain began. If felt as if someone had grabbed hold of her insides and were pulling them out of the top of her head, the energy encased in her body shunted upward and out with supreme force. She thought she might be screaming but the chaos of her body left her ignorant to anything else. She writhed helplessly on the floor of the cavern … until a sudden stillness drew the pain to an abrupt end. Caia sucked in a deep breath, air rushing into her panicked lungs with joy and relief.

  She nudged around with her energy. A giant, exhausted grin spread across her face. Caia would never have thought she would ever be this happy to be so alone inside.

  The trace was gone.

  Jaeden shot up from her chair at the exact same time Lucien did, at the same time shocked exhalations poured from the pack gathered together in Lucien and Caia’s suite, waiting for the rite to be over. An electricity had tingled through her nerve endings in one sharp, smooth maneuver, and an instant understanding thrummed in her being. It was like an instant message from the gods explaining in one concise note that Caia Ribeiro, half magik, half lykan, existed as Head of both covens and had given the trace back to the gods, unbinding them all.

  “You felt that?” she gasped around at them all. Everyone nodded.

  Reuben glanced between them and Laila. “There is no longer a hum in your energies to tell me who is Daylight and who is Midnight.”

  “Yeah, ’cause it’s gone,” Jaeden explained. “And it came with a message about Caia and her giving up both traces … telling us we’re free.”

  “Which means the Midnights probably felt it too.” Lucien shook his head in amazement, gazing at Laila for confirmation. She nodded her head slowly.

  “They’ll know about Caia?”

  “Yeah, they’ll know about Caia,” he confirmed.

  Jaeden trembled and lowered herself to her seat. What did this mean? Now the supernatural world understood with perfect clarity that there was no trace and no longer any Head for either coven. Was the war teetering on the edge of the end … or standing on the precipice of a bloody disaster?

  Caia stumbled out of the caverns, shaking uncontrollably. As she approached Penelope and Alfred waiting for her by the elevator with guards, she tightened the robe around her.

  “What the hell is going on up there?” Alfred was yelling at the wall.

  Huh?

  Then Caia noticed he was pressing his ear, and she realized he was wearing one of the earpieces worn by some of the Center staff.

  “Shut down the portals until we can sort it out!”

  Oh goddess, what was going on?

  Alfred threw up his hands in frustration. “Take those who have already gotten in into the court. But lock down those bloody portals before every Daylight on earth shows up!”

  “Caia.” Penelope, pale-faced, came toward her and took hold of her arm to steady her. “Are you all right?”

  I was until I saw you guys. “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

  Alfred grimaced. “We have a problem.”

  “I’m getting that. What’s going on? The gods took the trace back … I thought we would be good after that.”

  Penelope shook her head. “The gods removed the bind from us all. We all felt it.”

  “You did?” Caia asked, amazed.

  “Yes. But it came with a message about you being Head of the Daylights and Midnights, of what you are and how you gave the trace back to the gods. The Center has been bombarded with supernaturals demanding to know what is going on.”

  Holy Artemis. Oh, this was a problem.

  “Do the Midnights know?”

  Penelope grew even more wan. “I think we better talk to Laila.”

  29

  Method in the Madness

  Frustration tickled beneath her skin as she skimmed another page. Nothing! The history section in this library sucked. Caia groaned and waved her hand above the table, a glass of water materializing in front of her. She gulped it down, hoping it would renew her energy.

  The last few days had been exhausting. Along with the Council, she’d had to retell her story thrice over to large groups that visited the Center, demanding answers as to who she was and why the trace was gone. Caia wasn’t shocked. A good portion of the Daylights had known of her existence, but there were those who lived quiet lives away from the war who were blissfully unaware of her.

  But now they knew, and they seemed to know a lot about her … including this miraculous power she seemed to have that no one else did. Some were hostile, but for the most part, she was a curiosity and pretty much their savior. Freeing them all from the trace had brought untold happiness to many. There were the more conservative supernaturals who believed strong leadership had been the key to winning the war, but for many, it had been an invasion of their privacy.

  Once the excitement and buzz had quieted, however, the questions battered down on them. What next? Would the war go on as it was? Would the soldiers continue to train at the Center? Or was the idea to infiltrate the Midnights and find out how they were handling things?

  For the Council, it was yes to all the above. Saffron had been sent in with a few other top faeries to spy on Orina Beketov and the Midnight Council. The report came with the good and the bad—the chaos of discovering Caia’s existence, that Ethan and Marita were dead, that the absence of the trace had put a temporary stop to Midnight attacks, days before their assault against the Krôls. The bad news was, Orina Beketov wanted to continue her war against other supernatural races and was gradually winning over a very confused Council.

  The Daylight Council took this to mean the war would go on as it had and thus recommenced classes at the Center. Caia wasn’t as convinced. In fact, she had an entirely different idea. She knew from having had the trace for the past ten months that the Midnight Coven was saturated with people who would gladly welcome peace. An idea brewed in her busy brain, one she had imparted to no one, not even Lucien. But the library where she hoped to discover all she needed was proving infertile.

  Ugh, she really didn’t want to have to turn to Reuben for this one. But it was looking more and more likely.

  “You look annoyed.” Phoebe MacLachlan strode through the doors into the empty room. Caia found her dry tone somewhat relaxing after having been in the library by herself for hours.

  She nodded and slammed the book shut. “I’m not having a good research day.”

  The Rogue Hunter slid into the seat opposite her. “What are you up to, Caia?”

  Damn the lykan. She was nosy and perceptive and persistent to a fault. She was also trustworthy, and Caia counted herself as one of the lucky few who Phoebe trusted and respected.

  “I have a plan.”

  “I’m listening.”

  When Caia was done, Phoebe
threw her a look that would’ve been a smile if the lykan had known what one was. “You need to look in the archives.”

  “Huh?”

  Phoebe rolled her eyes and stood, gesturing for Caia to follow her. She wound her way through the dark aisles until they came to the back wall of the room. All Caia saw was another row of bookshelves.

  Phoebe approached the middle of the aisle and reached up to pull on a thick, bronzed-leather tome. A creak, followed by a rumbling shudder seconds later, and the middle of the bookshelf opened inward like double doors.

  Caia’s jaw dropped. “How did you know this was here and I didn’t?”

  Phoebe shrugged. “I assumed the archives were public knowledge.”

  “Uh-uh.” Caia followed her into a beautiful, well-lit room with no exit. In the middle was another library desk with green bankers’ lamps and bordering the entire room were shelves of books. Walking behind Phoebe, Caia’s gaze fell to the mosaic floor where tales of the gods were depicted in stunning color and splendor. She winced at the sharp tap her flat pumps made against what was surely a masterpiece and should never be trod upon. Phoebe didn’t seem as bothered.

  “Here.” She indicated a row of books. “You should find what you need.”

  “Phoebe, I need this to stay between us until I’ve done my research.”

  The lykan nodded, her mouth firm and her eyes guileless. “Of course. It could be a very good idea, Caia.”

  She smiled. “So, if they say yes, you’re in?”

  Phoebe snorted. “If there’s a fight, then I’m in.”

  “You want to do what?” Benedict screeched, and Caia had to stop herself from laughing at his outrage.

  The Council looked at her with a mixture of awe and horror. That could mean anything, right? Lucien smiled up at her encouragingly along with Marion and Reuben. Vanne seemed to be chuckling as if he couldn’t quite believe her gall.

  “I think it’s the only way to end this,” she insisted.

  “It’s completely insane and out of the question!” Benedict bawled.

  Caia narrowed her eyes on him. Okay, he wasn’t so amusing anymore. He was just plain annoying. “Last time I checked, there were eight other people on this Council with a vote.”

  He growled at her, “By all means, let us see you humiliated by the rest of my colleagues for your depravity.”

  She gasped. “Depravity? I’m not depraved just because I have the courage to actually do something about ending this war!”

  “Benedict,” Vanne warned quietly, “insult her again and you will have me to answer to.”

  Caia flushed under Vanne’s protectiveness but was glad for it because the warlock immediately blanched and sat down. Despite his place outside the Council, no one had forgotten how powerful Vanne was. Caia noticed Marion throwing him a mournful look. Caia sighed. After this was all over, she was going to have to do something about those two.

  “Yes, let’s be civil,” Penelope agreed, before looking up at Caia with worried eyes. “This is quite a proposal, Caia.”

  It was. It really, really was. After the trace had gone, Caia had contemplated a measure that would help sort the wheat from the chaff. No matter what happened, there was going to be bloodshed, but Caia reckoned it would be better if the bloodshed happened in one fell swoop and gave them the closure they needed to build a new world for supernaturals.

  She thought about the battles that must have been fought many years ago, when honor had been settled on the battlefield. The history books in the library had been of no real use until Phoebe took her into the archives. It was there she learned of the spells cast to summon both covens to a battleground that had been cast in protective magik, shielding it from human eyes. There, those brave enough to fight would convene, and a great bloody battle would be fought until one side had destroyed the other. It was a mighty style of warfare in which even the faeries—who were used only for spying now—shifted into their animal of choice and took part in the combat.

  Caia believed they should cast the old spell calling to those Midnights who had no intention of ever making peace with the Daylights to fight them on the battlefield.

  “Caia, most, if not all, of the Midnights will show up because their pride and superiority will expect no less of them,” one of the older Council members insisted. “We’ll be completely outnumbered.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You have to trust me. When I had the trace, I felt them all. I felt such a need for accord in them, for unity and harmony, it broke my heart. There are thousands who will meet us on that battlefield, who will never see us as anything but lesser beings, but there are thousands more who will stay home and wait for us to come to them with an offer of peace. Let us destroy those who stand in the way of that.”

  She saw the glimmer of hope in their eyes, their indrawn breaths, the way they leaned forward into her words. They wanted to believe but were afraid to do so.

  Trying to contain her excitement, her desperation, Caia lowered herself into a seat before them, her eyes wide and honest. “Have I not proven myself to you time and again? Do you not trust me to protect our people?”

  Penelope nodded, her eyes shining bright.

  One down.

  “We can meet them in battle and win because all they have is hate. And believe me, our weapons are a lot stronger than hate.”

  Alfred looked determined. “The Council has a very big decision to make. Perhaps you should retire to your room, Caia, and we will call for you when we have come to it.”

  As soon as the bedroom door closed, Lucien drew Caia into his arms and lifted her into a searing kiss, wishing he could stay locked like that forever. She gasped when he finally let her go but hung on to him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  “What was that for?” she asked as she nuzzled his jaw and neck.

  For a lot of things, he thought. But mostly for being the most extraordinary person he’d ever had the honor of knowing. He kissed her again. “For making me prouder than I have ever known.”

  She smiled sweetly, blushing. “Yeah?”

  Lucien nodded, chuckling at her modesty. “That was some speech.”

  “Do you think they’ll say yes?”

  Gods, he hoped so.

  Instead of answering, he made love to her, knowing if they did say yes, he would follow Caia to that battleground. He would fight for her because he loved her; he would fight for his pack and the hope of a future in which their children could grow up untroubled by war. It was a cause he believed in. And one he was willing to die for.

  30

  Battle Fever

  The answer was a resounding yes. Not just from the Council who had voted in Caia’s favor—except for Benedict and the elderly magik who had raised his own concerns—but from the Daylights themselves. First the Council spoke with those at the Center, and Caia was blown away by their eagerness to march into battle. When their plan to bring the war to an end was put forth, the walls shook and the floor thudded with the stamping and animalistic cries of the supernaturals. They were ready for it. This was what they’d been waiting for. Their enthusiasm eased some of the Council’s apprehension, and preparations for the spell commenced.

  Not too many days after that, Caia was invited to take part in casting the spell that would request willing Daylights to fight for their cause as well as those Midnights, who would never see themselves working side by side with other supernatural races, to meet them in battle. It was a powerful moment for Caia as she joined hands with the Council and added her energy to the summons, connected to these nine people in the exhausting spell that required the combined strength of these incredibly gifted magiks.

  The spell took a great amount of control and precision; their message was sent out mentally to all supernaturals and had to be called in pace with one another. A pendulum swung in the middle of the circle with a slow click to keep the time of each sentence in their minds to ensure they spoke out as one.

  When at last they could be sure the me
ssage had been delivered, they broke apart, their limbs trembling with weariness.

  The door to Alfred’s suite blew open, and Reuben marched inside with Lucien and Marion at his back. “We have visitors.” He grinned.

  Caia shook her head, still dazed from the spell. “Visitors?” To steady herself, she grabbed hold of Lucien’s arm as soon as he reached her.

  Marion smiled triumphantly. “Daylights who want to fight.”

  Alfred scowled. “Why are they here now? We gave them the battle date, which isn’t for another two weeks.”

  Reuben was grinning from cheek to cheek, rubbing his hands excitedly. “Some of them want to train with the best.”

  Caia couldn’t help but smile back at him. The vampyre had been waiting an especially long time for this moment. Last night he had presented her with a gift.

  “What is it?” She’d eyed the black box suspiciously.

  Reuben shrugged. “A token of my gratitude.”

  Tentatively, she took the box and opened it to reveal a tiny, ancient coin. “Reuben?”

  “It belonged to my mother. It was one of the two coins that should’ve been placed upon her eyes when she died to pay for her passage into the Underworld. When Hades made her a vampyre, she took revenge upon her father who had thought so little of her to leave her unprotected in the afterlife. She became a monster because of him. She took these coins from him after she drained him, and she carried them with her always as a reminder of who she was. I think it offered her forgiveness when no one and nothing else could. When I was ten, she gave me this one and told me to always remember who I was and to never be ashamed of it.”

  Caia shook her head slowly. “Reuben, I can’t take this.”