is this…how are you…”
“That’s a rather long story, and one we don’t have time for at the moment. Perhaps you should just spill all of your lies to Piper now and see what her next move is.” He glanced my way, his sharp eyes full of anger and resentment and a hint of warning. Whether or not we allied with the fey king, he would get his pound of flesh for what had happened to him.
“You said you would hold Larken long enough for Piper to strike,” my father called out, dragging the conversation back to the matter at hand. “I want to know how.”
Phineas composed himself and grinned at the warlock lord. “I can compel her, too, though it is much harder with her than it was with Piper. I will only be able to do it for seconds, at most. There is no room for hesitation or error. I no longer have lands to retreat to if we fail—no border she is unwilling to cross. It is the proverbial do-or-die moment for us both.”
“She’d need to be here for that to work,” I pointed out.
“And she will be once I call her to me—because I’ve found you.”
I mulled that idea for a moment, thinking of all the ways the fey king could be duping me. But there was still the possibility that he wasn’t lying—that he really did want her dead as much as I did. That tracked with everything I’d believed about him until he’d appeared with my mother, shocking the shit out of us all. Maybe that was the ruse. Maybe he was playing her, not me.
Then again, maybe he wasn’t.
The entire plan hung on the word of a manipulative sociopath who’d tried to kill me at least once. Not a stellar foundation by any stretch.
“If I wanted you dead, Piper, I’d have made my move already,” he said, and I internally cursed my lack of a poker face. “I would not have risked coming here without Larken.”
His logic made sense, but I still couldn’t shake my unease.
“So, how do we do this?” I asked. “I need logistics.”
“I will summon her to me, hold her mind for a moment, and you will take her out.”
“And if I can’t kill her fast enough?”
His smug expression fell. “Then we have a problem, but I am confident in your skills. I have seen some and heard of others. I am certain that, if you channel your hatred, you’ll be able to do what needs to be done quickly enough.”
That made one of us.
“So, what was that bullshit at Central Park?” Knox asked, looking at his new pack lined up in the distance.
“Appearances,” Phineas replied. “Why do you think I convinced Larken to use your wolves against you?” Our lack of response prompted him to continue. “I knew she would appreciate the irony of it, and would also buy into the idea that I wanted to punish you in the process. But I knew they could only do so much damage before you would figure a way out. In fact, I all but ensured your escape with that move. You should really be thanking me, not questioning my motives.”
I stepped closer, my eyes searching his cruelly beautiful face. “I’ll consider it—after my mother is dead.”
He closed the distance between us and reached for my face. “Then let it be done.”
“Kill her!” a shrill voice screamed from somewhere in the distance.
I slapped his hand away and blasted him with wind, putting distance between us in a flash. Ice-blue magic ripped through the air and crashed into his back, blowing a hole through his coat and his flesh. Kingston stormed toward the fey king, anger twisting his expression.
“It was a trap,” he snapped, blasting the king again before he could regain his footing.
The New York pack moved to protect Phineas but was met by a wall of enforcers all too keen to take them out. And all the while, my mother called for her husband to do what he’d obviously promised he would, to keep up his end of the deal—to deliver my head to her.
“No!” he yelled as he shot a wall of ice at Kingston, shards of it splintering off like blades of shrapnel. I melted them with a single blast of fire, and he turned his angry eyes to me as magic blossomed in his hands. With his focus solely on me, he didn’t notice when Merc ghosted up behind him, fangs descended like the predator he was. They