Theia aside. “She didn’t want me to tell you this, but our unwanted guest pretty much ruined her plans for the reception.” Dev glanced at Rhea leaning into the car to block Ione’s view. “It was supposed to be ours as well.”
Theia stared at him, confused. “Your what?”
“Reception. Don’t react. She might snap if she realizes I’m telling you. But we drove up to Vegas a few weeks ago and tied the knot.” He allowed himself a little grin while Theia suppressed the urge to squeal and jump up and down.
“You complete bastard. I can’t believe you’re telling me this now when I can’t do anything.”
“I suggested to Tweedledum that you and she could plan a little celebration for Ione later when she’s cooled down.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t say Tweedledee. Because Rhe is definitely Dum.” Theia grinned but kept it subtle. “And you can count on us.”
Rhea joined Theia as Dev and Ione drove away, waving like Stepford wives only to start jumping and squealing in unison the second the car was out of visual range.
“Can you believe the ovaries on that one?” Rhea laughed as they spun around. “Eloping and stealing Phoebe’s thunder? Phoebe’s going to be furious.”
“I don’t know how she kept it to herself all this time.” Although Ione was certainly better equipped to keep a secret than the rest of them. Theia glanced at Rhea as the dance died down. “You’d better not tell me you and Leo are up to something similar.”
“Me?” Rhea laughed. “Right. Like I’d get married.” She winked, which wasn’t reassuring. Everyone in the family was pairing off, and Theia was the odd one out. Rhea, as usual, could see what she was thinking. “Why don’t you just let me read you again?”
“No. There’s no reason to rehash what I already know.”
“Which is what? That your love life is cursed? I think you’re being way too literal about it. Just let me ask a more specific question.”
The night was getting chilly now that the sun was down. Theia pulled the shawl she’d borrowed from Ione around her shoulders, tucking her tattooed arm underneath it. “I’m good, thanks. So, takeout?”
Rhea sighed through her nose, her mouth in a thin line of annoyance, but shrugged her acquiescence. “Indian?”
Theia gave it a thumbs-up. “You order. I’ll drive.” She held out her hand for the keys.
“You’re not driving Minnie Driver.”
“Your car is not a person, and yes, I am. I saw how much champagne you had.”
Rhea tossed her the keys and got in on the passenger side, patting the dash. “Don’t listen to her, Minnie. You are too a person.” She pulled up the delivery app on her phone and started making selections. “Whose house are we going to? Phoebe’s or Rafe’s?”
“Neither, actually.” Theia ground the gears, and Rhea swore, gripping the seat. Theia ignored her, putting the car in gear properly. “Do you still have the address for Rafael Sr.’s place in your phone?”
Rhea glanced over at her. “The Ice Palace? Yeah, why?”
“There’s something I need to pick up. We can pretend we’re filthy rich, like Phoebe.” She grinned without looking over.
“Ha. Phoebe, married to the richest man in town, and still keeping her little bungalow.”
“I think she’s still freaked out about those reporters outside Rafe’s window filming him going spelunking in her cave that time.”
“He is quite the cave diver. Oh, dammit.”
“What?”
“We totally missed the opportunity for cave-diving puns. They’re visiting cenotes on their honeymoon.”
“Ah, damn. We’re off our game.”
Driving the labyrinthine route from Covent Temple back to the highway was much easier than driving in. A proximity glamour kept passersby from noticing the otherwise startling white byzantine spires against the sienna red hoodoos and hills of Sedona, and the disorientation spell on the road was an extra measure to confound those who might be purposefully looking for it.
Rhea’s red and white Mini was a blast to drive up Highway 179 through the walls of rocks and around the curves threading through the pines on the way to the secluded community hidden in the hills. Theia drove an automatic hybrid, which didn’t quite have the same kick.
“So what did you want to pick up, anyway?”
“Some papers Rafe’s dad kept. He said there’s some stuff about the original Covent and Madeleine Marchant I might want for my genealogy research.” There was no point in giving Rhea ammo to tease her by letting know she was researching Lucien Smok.
“Don’t we know all we need to about her?”
“Nothing is ever all you need to know about anything.”
Rhea rolled her eyes. “Right. I forgot I was talking to Brainiac’s daughter.”
“So you’re not at all curious about the origins of our Lilith blood.”
“I just think you can overanalyze things. A little mystery in life is nice.”
Mystery was exactly what Theia didn’t want. She liked to know the whys and wherefores of things. Knowledge was power. And mystery... As far as Theia was concerned, mystery was danger.
Lucien watched the revenant from the rooftop. Starlight lent a pale, unearthly glow to the proceedings as it swallowed up the dusk, leaving the red landscape sepia toned and casting flat, colorless shadows. The demon wore cowboy boots and a leather duster with a gambler-style cowboy hat, his horse tacked up in the Western style, but this was a Hunt wraith, an undead revenant of the Viking era who roamed the earth in search of dark souls. Less substantial wraiths rode beside him, their mounts, like themselves, phantoms. No one would notice them, even staring at them head-on. No one but a black-souled phantom like himself.
But the leader was different. He was no phantom but flesh and bone, unnaturally maintained, living tissue that ought to have perished centuries ago. And Lucien had seen him before. Just hours before—at the wedding of Rafael Diamante to Phoebe Carlisle.
Lucien followed the horse’s trajectory, tracking the revenant with the scope on his crossbow. He’d slipped a little something into the Viking’s drink to see if he could trigger him. The most it had done was to get him arguing with Dev Gideon, the eldest Carlisle sister’s faithful companion. Rumor had it Dev was a shape-shifter, part man, part demon himself. The entire Carlisle family seemed to be magnets for unnatural beings. Not surprising, given their bloodline.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d decided to check out the Carlisle sisters for himself, but Theia’s large, passionate eyes challenging him with far more moxie than her slight frame warranted was
