Immortals After Dark 04 - Wicked Deeds on a Winters Night

“Don’t even get me started on who the elven archers know—let’s just put it this way: Their daddy’s bigger than your daddy.”
    “They all ally with those witch mercenaries?”
    She nodded. “Naughty Lykae, creating an interspecies incident like this. Six immortals you trapped. This is a Charlie Foxtrot of epic proportions.”
    At Lachlain’s irritated look, Emma supplied, “Charlie Foxtrot is code for, well, a cluster fuck.”
    “Why dinna you tell me this was developing?” Lachlain asked Emma.
    “I only knew about Regin and some growing rumblings within the House. I’m friends with the witches, but they’re very secretive and keep their plans close until they’re ready to act.”
    “There’s no need for this to escalate,” Lachlain said, his tone calm. Bowe knew Lachlain would never reveal that he was concerned about the repercussions of Bowe’s actions, but in his position he must be. “Bowe can tell me where the witch is. I’ll free the six and bring Mariketa back.”
    Bowe exhaled. Lachlain was still trying to protect him, always cleaning up after him. If he had a dollar for every time Lachlain said, “Ach, Bowe, you’ve fucked up this time.”
    But then Lachlain had never bailed him out of something like this.
    “No, I’ve told you. This is my problem.” Bowe unsteadily stood, growing dizzy just from that. “I’ll deal with it.”
    Lachlain shook his head. “How are you going to defend yourself against six verra irate immortals?”
    “They should be grateful that I returned.” When Lachlain raised his brows, he added, “I’ll make them vow to the Lore no’ to attack before I will agree to open the tomb.”
    “Then at least eat and rest until after the full moon.”
    Nïx clucked her tongue. “The House says Mari must call in before the next full moon to avert this. Besides, this town isn’t big enough to hold so many factions. They all might be allies of the witches or Valkyrie, but none are allies with each other. Any much longer with them bumping elbows, and something will happen.”
    Bowe swung a glare at Nïx. “Are you no’ overstating all this, Valkyrie—”
    From outside: “You wanna fuck over my witch? Like playing your games? Then play catch!” Something whistled overhead; the house shook—they all ducked as plaster splattered down from the ceiling.
    “ What the bloody hell was that? ” Bowe yelled.
    “That was Regin,” Nïx answered serenely. “She threw a car over us to land on the main Lykae lodge. Lucky thing the lodge is empty. Bowen, she thought the vehicle was yours. But it’s really... his .” She pointed delicately at Lachlain, who scowled before flashing a meaningful look at Emma.
    Bowe grated, “She’s throwing bloody cars ?”
    “See? Not overstating.” Nïx rose, smoothly slipped behind the curtains, then shouted out the window, “Bad form, Regin! Wrong car.”
    Immediately after, the house shook again. “Oh, much better!” Nïx assured them. “That was Bowen’s!”
    Another violent shake of the manor. Nïx peeked out from the curtains, wearing them like a nun’s habit. “Who drives a seventy-eight, Chevelle-looking—”
    “Nïx!” Emma said.
    She withdrew from the window. “The timing of all this is impeccable,” Nïx said in an abruptly grave tone. “The Accession has really arrived.”
    Emma and Lachlain shared a look. All Lorekind dreaded the Accession. Occurring every five centuries, it was a kind of mystical cull that killed off immortals. Though there wasn’t necessarily a great war or determining battle, fate seemed to seed conflicts, pitting factions against each other. Bowe’s father had told him fate would sow some families by bringing together mates—yet would reap from most others.
    “Why all this?” Bowe took uneven steps toward his closet to dress, and had to clench his jaw against a wave of pain in his ribs. “Do you no’ think that a Lore war is a wee bit much for a witch having a three-week hiatus?”
    “A hiatus... with whom ?” Nïx asked. “My pet, you’ve trapped a beautiful, nubile young woman with a school of incubi. Though Regin swears it’s not a school of incubi, but a pod —”
    “Nïx, stay focused!” Emma said, and Nïx gave her a halfhearted hiss.
    “Incubi?” Bowe rasped, a finger of dread running up his spine. “The tomb was empty, long deserted.” There weren’t living incubi in there. There couldn’t be.
    Sadness flashed in Nïx’s confused eyes. “The witch