Having gathered outside, most of us pile into Dane's SUV.
As the next tallest besides Dane, Ambrose takes the front passenger seat, leaving me sandwiched between Penelope and Shanti in the back.
Freya had opted to ride with Julian in his old VW, having proclaimed that she 'loves a man who can handle a stick.'
As for how Penelope had arrived, I'd spotted a blue vintage bicycle leaning against the side of the house on our way out. Given it had only one speed, and there were several impressive hills in the ten miles between Ambrose's house and Julian's cottage, I gathered she was not quite as frail as she appeared.
"So what is the plan?" I ask, as Dane pulls out onto the main road.
Dane meets my eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror before returning his attention to the road.
"I was hoping you'd have an idea, actually. You're the closest to this, now, Noah," he says. "What do you think we should do?"
I stare at the complex knot of locs bunched at the back of his head. It's too intricate for him to have done himself, and I'm guessing it's Julian's work. It seems to mirror the knot of nerves coiled in my stomach.
My alpha brother always has a plan, and expects it to be followed unquestioningly. Any other time, I'd have been flattered to have him turn to me like this, but at the moment I'd actually been counting on his usual quick grasp of authority.
"I don't know, Dane," I admit. "Aengus has all the cards—the relics, the hostages, his rakshasa things... it feels like we're just walking into his trap."
"What's he holding over us?" Dane prompts.
"That he'll hurt or kill Mathilda and the others, and send the rakshasas after me," I recount.
"Call me callous, but I only care about one of those things," Dane growls. "Anyway, what do we have that he wants?"
"The final relic, and Ambrose."
"And you, Noah," Ambrose says, twisting to look back at me. "Ainach needs his heart as an anchor in this world. Without that demand, Aengus might have had me—or Ainach—destroy each relic as he attained it: no ritual required."
"Right." Dane nods. "So, how do we level the playing field?"
"If we destroyed Aileen's relic, pre-emptively," Penelope posits, leaning forward with her pale eyes wide, "would that not disrupt Aengus' intent?"
"No," Ambrose counters. "It would rather hasten it. Each gift-relic is bound to the soul of the recipient. Destroying it would destroy the bond. Aileen would perish, and one link in the chain binding Ainach would be broken. Besides," he adds, "to destroy a dragon's gift is no easy thing, as Aengus has discovered. Only something like dragonfire will do the job, and I'm not willing to be the cause of my aunt's demise—if I can help it."
"That is admittedly reassuring," Shanti says, reaching into the sleeve of her silks and producing the relic itself—an old paintbrush with a dark handle of stained wood and a tip of fine bristles—which she hands to me. "Here—I give it to you for safekeeping, Noah. As for the rakshasas," she goes on, "leave them to me. I am familiar with their ways, and can distract them. As a daughter of the Nagaraja, I will not take part in violence myself; but this at least, I can do."
"Ambrose," I say, leaning forward to touch his shoulder. "What if you could get to Aengus' relic, or to Aengus himself? With him...neutralized, so to speak...wouldn't everyone else be free?"
He nods. "Yes. The trouble is doing so without the others coming to harm. I've a feeling he'll have some safe-guards in place."
"That should be our objective, then," I decide. "We may not have the upper hand, but we've got each other. Three werewolves, a nagi, a half-fae, a dragon and..." I glance at Penelope, "...and Penelope, isn't nothing, after all."
Penelope's eyes widen, and she reaches for my hand, her cool, slim fingers grasping mine.
"In our brief acquaintance, Mr. Hunter, you have brought me unaccustomed joy," she says shyly. "You have shown me consideration and kindness, and I hope I may have the privilege of calling you my friend."
As far as I remember, our 'brief acquaintance' consists of a one-sided conversation on the topic of decomposition and a shared observation of insect cannibalism, but I nod and smile anyway. I'm not about to trust her with my pets, or let her serve me tea, but as far as the Oakfields and Thornes go, I find I rather like her.
"I hope I may call you the same," I say.
She smiles, long pale lashes veiling her eyes, and turns to Ambrose, who watches us with a slight, pensive frown.
"I am at your service, cousin," she says, "and will help however I may."
"Good," Dane nods. "So, Noah. Game plan?"
"Um..." I swallow. "If I can keep Aengus' attention somehow, then maybe you and Freya can free the others, while Penelope and Julian secure the relics. Then Ambrose..." I meet his eyes, "...well, once it's safe, Ambrose can take care of Aengus, I suppose."
"Good enough," Dane grunts. "Just be careful, and if things go south, we run. Especially you—you're part of what he wants, remember. No heroics. Understand?"
Now he sounds more like the high-handed, dominant alpha I'd been relying on, and I can only nod.
Ambrose reaches back to take my hand in his, and the rest of the ride passes in silence.
When we arrive, pulling up to the curb in front of the rambling old mansion, a tangled mix of feelings struggle for dominance in my chest.
It feels like I'm coming home, but like my home is someplace I don't recognize anymore—the way a familiar place can turn strange and frightening in a dream.
Julian's sapphire-blue Beetle putters to a halt behind us, and he and Freya climb out. As they approach, Freya keeps casting him odd looks, and I gather he must have told her something of his own troubles on the way over.
Taking charge, Dane quickly fills them in on our plan.
"Sounds good to me," Freya says, stepping closer to Dane and then lowering her voice. "But, uh, are you sure we should all go? I mean... in our respective 'conditions?'"
She jerks her head towards Julian, without much subtlety, and he scowls.
Dane, though, surprises me. "We're all fit and ready, in our own way," he says, nodding at his mate with a look of love and confidence that's meant for him alone. "We're in this together, and that's how we'll fight."
~ ☾ ~
Shanti leans close to me, inhaling with her nose almost touching the skin at the base of my throat.
"You have a mild, but distinctive scent," she comments. "Subtle, clean and masculine, but pleasant. Give me one of your garments—the closer to your skin, the better."
"She wants your undies," Freya interprets, hissing in my ear.
"Freya!" I hiss back, pushing her away. "No she doesn't!"
Thankfully, it's my habit to wear a sleeveless undershirt, and I turn away and pull this from beneath my outer garments, then hand it over.
Shanti bunches it in her hands and takes a sniff, and I feel my face heat.
She nods. "Yes, this will do. Here—" She lifts one of her silks from over her shoulders and places it around mine. "—this will help to disguise you. Now, be careful not to let Aengus see you until the rakshasas are let loose. I will amplify your fragrance, and with any luck, they will be drawn away by it, and will ignore you."
"Thank you," I say. "You've been a good friend, Shanti."
She smiles and rests a soft hand on the side of my face.
"This is not goodbye, Noah Hunter," she says. "Have faith in yourself and in those who love you. We shall see each other again—quite soon, I hope."
She releases me, and then, with a final smile, she retreats, disappearing around the corner of the house.
Dane turns and squints towards the sun, which is just slipping behind the peaks to the west.
"We should get moving," he says. "I have a feeling that Aengus is a man of his word—at least as far as his promise of 'Imma start hurting people at sunset,' goes."
I nod and start towards the front door, but a hand closes on my arm and makes me turn.
Ambrose looks down at me, his red-brown eyes lit, his face pale, and his auburn curls tumbling over his shoulders in a tangled cascade.
"Noah, wait," he says, pulling me close and setting one hand to the back of my neck, his eyes flicking between mine.
"What?" I prompt, when he doesn't continue.
"I just... I wanted to..."
He shakes his head, seemingly at a loss, and then he kisses me.
It brings me right back to our first kiss—at Thaddeus' party; the unexpectedness of it, the surprising heat of his lips on my lips, and the way my body and heart and mind had reacted to his fire and spice. I realize now that I had known, even then, that he was mine, and I was his.
There's something painful in it now, though, and I see that, as much as that first kiss was our 'hello,' he thinks that this might be, already, our goodbye.
Not if I can help it.
"Ambrose," I breathe against his lips when he lets me go. "I'm here. I'm with you—no matter what. Together—you and I—we're good. You're good, and I love you. Remember that, okay?"
He nods, his forehead pressed to mine. I feel a shiver pass through him beneath my hands, and reflect that—even though he is, objectively, a lot older and more experienced than I am—the need for love and reassurance does not diminish with age.
Which is a whole tragedy in itself.
"I love you," I say again, tightening my hold on him and shutting my eyes against unwanted tears. "I love you, Ambrose Thorne."
I feel him smile.
"As I love you, my lovely little wolf," he laughs, his voice sounding a bit rougher and deeper than usual. "And never fear; if we burn tonight, it shall not be with a fire that destroys."
I look up at him, and see something a little different in his face.
"Ambrose?"
He winks at me, a flash of deep flame sparking in his eyes.
"As ever," he says, showing a hint of a sharp tooth at the corner of his mouth. "Come then. Let's not keep my 'father' waiting any longer, now."