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“I won’t tell you not to warn them,” Alice said, softly. And Fey knew without asking which two Witches Alice meant. “But you have to promise me you won’t do so until after your part of the plan is over. We can’t risk it, Fey. Even if you trust them to help, I need you to wait until your part is over.”
“I understand,” Fey answered. She rolled her shoulders back. Her body itched for the kind of relief only a few hours punishing herself in the training gym would provide.
“And you,” Alice said, looking from Sam to Rex. “You need to work with Karla to make sure you keep your Factions off the streets that night. We need to keep civilian casualties to a minimum, and I am relying on you three to keep the peace. We can’t have anyone taking advantage of the distraction to wreak havoc in the city. Or, even worse, having them caught up in the slaughter.”
“You’ll have no trouble with us,” Sam insisted.
“What about the predators?” Fey asked, and Sam blinked at her with his large, liquid eyes.
“My dear lady, I speak for all of us, not just the prey,” he insisted. “We are not as… separated, I think, as you have been led to believe. I have been working with a representative from the Wolves and the Lions of the city, and they have assured me that whatever date we tell them, we can expect nothing but quiet from them and their kind.”
Fey nodded. “And the Vampires?”
Alice visibly winced. “That is our only problem,” she sighed. “I only met Sam through Phillip—he put me in touch with all the other Shifters, and with Karla. But no one, and I mean no one, has any reliable connections to deSanguine or any of the other Vamp families. And every message I’ve tried to get to them has been ignored.”
“I can help with that one,” Fey admitted with a sigh.
Alice shot her a surprised look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been associating with Vamps in my absence, little sister.”
Fey only smirked in reply. “Trust me,” she said. “I can get the word out, and you won’t have to worry about the Vampires. You don’t need me until the big night, right?”
Alice shook her head. “No. You know what you have to do. And you know where to find me if something changes.”
“Good,” Fey said. “Can you help me get a message out to someone?”
“That depends,” Alice answered, cautiously. “On exactly who it is you are trying to contact.”
“Not any of the Blades,” Fey clarified.
“Then probably, yeah. Who did you have in mind?”
Fey smiled. “The Prince of the Vampires.”
Chapter 49
It took a few hours before Alice managed to find her an untraceable phone, and she warned her that any messages Fey sent could still be intercepted and recovered, if Alastair were being monitored. It would be best, she advised, to couch the message in some sort of code.
In the end, Fey decided not to text Alastair directly at all, just in case. Instead, she pulled the wrinkled business card from the pocket of her fighting leathers and sent the message to Jasper.
Goddess Park. Midnight.
Fey stared at the message after it was sent, frowning. She needed a way to let him know who the message was from, to give him a clue that it was her, and who it was meant for. When she realized how, she smiled, and sent one last message:
Love, Shirley Temple.
Then she handed the phone back to Alice, who promptly popped it open, removed the sim card inside, and snapped it in two.
“You can never be too careful,” she insisted, calling Fire to burn the slivers of plastic away to nothing.
Alastair was waiting for her when she arrived, just before midnight, and Fey couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been standing there at the foot of the Goddess Statue since sundown. She wouldn’t put it past him.
The park was empty, aside from the two of them. Only Vamps and party kids were typically out in the city this late on a weeknight, and neither of those groups spent much time in this district. Overhead, the moon hung high and bright in the dark, night sky, casting a white glow over the world. It illuminated Alastair’s messy black hair as she approached him.
“Hey,” Fey called softly, and his head jerked up at the sound.
Before she knew it, he had her wrapped in his arms, crushing her against him.
“They said you were dead,” he whispered gruffly against her cheek. “I didn’t want to believe it, but… fuck, it’s good to see you, Witchling.”
