“Don’t tell me that’s more bad news,” she said, her voice blurred with sleep.

James strode to the window to look out. “It’s good news this time. Our peeps have arrived. They had to have pushed hard to get here so fast.”

She imagined they did push hard, as she could not personally recall ever hearing of Dragos himself summoning the Wyr to war. Granted, she was only in her twenties, but that was still a long enough period to cause people to take note.

She stood and moved to the window along with the others, and they all stared at the fantastic sight outside. A gryphon coasted in the air low over the river, wings outspread and steady as he headed for the torch-lit clearing. The golden feathers on his eagle’s neck and the tawny fur on his gigantic lion’s body were dark brown and deeply shadowed in the uncertain light. He carried three people on his broad, muscular back.

Behind him came another gryphon, similarly laden with passengers, his huge body seeming to float impossibly in the air. Then came a third. Pia smiled at the strangely beautiful, deadly sight.

Graydon, Bayne and Constantine were here, along with at least nine other Wyr.

A harpy flew in close after the third gryphon, her body and wings a study in grays darkening to black. She moved with powerful, confident assurance in the air, wheeling with precision to pass out of their line of sight and land in the clearing.

That was Aryal. Bleh, but okay. She had to admit it was far better to have that harpy with you than against you.

“Lookee there,” said Eva. “Them’s the big guns. They gonna smack that bad Elfie a good one.”

Andrea and Miguel laughed, and Pia smiled.

“That mean we can take off for Atlantic City?” Johnny asked. He still chewed a bite of his meal. “I want to practice counting cards again.”

Eva smacked Johnny on the back of his head although clearly there wasn’t any real strength behind the blow. In the next moment Pia became too preoccupied to pay attention to any of the psychos’ antics.

A large darkness sliced the night air. Like her experience with the Elven sculptures and the High Lord’s home before fire had damaged it, at first she couldn’t figure out what she was actually looking at. Then her perspective shifted and the scene became clear.

A pegasus soared over the river, his wingspread as wide as any of the gryphons. His wings and massive horse’s body were pure, unrelieved black. A glimmer of torchlight rippled over him, highlighting a powerful chest and long sleek legs. She caught a glimpse of his proud, arched neck and a graceful equine head.

“Whoa,” Eva whispered. “Now that’s a fine sight you don’t see every day.”

Unlike the gryphons, the pegasus carried just one passenger, a tall figure that appeared to be male. Pia wasn’t sure, but she thought the rider might be Quentin, her old boss and current friend—and quite possibly one of Dragos’s future sentinels. She still couldn’t get over the fact that Quentin was part Wyr. Her heart twisted. If he was also part Elven as she had always guessed, then the devastation here would hit him very hard.

Close on the pegasus’s heels came another gryphon.

A fourth one. Like the pegasus, this gryphon carried only one passenger.

Rune was here. His rider must be his mate, Carling Severan.

Did Dragos already know that Rune and Carling had come? Should she say something to warn him? Dragos had a huge telepathic range, but he had been silent for some time and she suspected that meant he was still busy with the beguiled Elves, and she didn’t want to disturb his concentration. God only knew what he might be involved in.

Pia turned abruptly from the window. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t wait but strode for the door, and the others sprang to assemble in a protective formation around her as she stepped out of the apartment. The halls were abandoned, everyone occupied elsewhere. She picked up speed as she reached the exit, and so did everyone else.

The clearing was a hive of activity. She paused to take it all in, and naturally her psychos all paused along with her. More torches had been set at regular intervals, and the whole area was well lit for the new arrivals.

Several Elves worked at the sad task of carrying out the covered bodies that lined one end of the clearing. Pia wasn’t the only one affected by the sight. Andrea muttered a curse under her breath, and James shook his head, the corners of his mouth turned down.

Pia said, “I don’t need all of you to stay with me, if you feel like helping.”

“Go on, kids,” Eva said. “I’ll hang with her. Just stay close to hear any news. I expect we’ll be heading out soon.”

Johnny touched Pia’s shoulder, gave her a small, grave smile and everyone but Eva took off.

A few Elves stood in the middle of the open clearing and waved their arms as they looked skyward. Pia glanced up as well. The smoke or fog had cleared, and parachutes dotted the clear, starlit night sky. Landing in a limited space at night was going to be tricky. She had a feeling more than a few of the arrivals were going to end up in the river.

Almost directly across from where she had paused, Graydon and Bayne talked with Ferion. Both gryphons were heavily armed and dressed in fatigues. Bayne rested his hands on his hips while Graydon rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around. All three of the males wore grim expressions.

Aryal stood nearby, arms crossed as she watched Wyr glide into the clearing. “Hurry up,” she told them as they landed. As usual the harpy’s dark hair was windswept and tangled, the angle of her high cheekbones accentuated by the flickering golden light. “Grab your chute and get out of the way. Move fast and keep moving.”

Hugh and Johnny leaped to help the new arrivals bundle up their parachutes as they landed.

Aryal shot a scowling glance across the clearing. The look in the harpy’s stormy gaze was sharp as a blade. Her glare was so intense, Pia found herself looking in the same direction to discover Quentin standing beside another male. Both men were tall, well formed and handsome, but that was the extent of their similarity. They were almost perfect in their contrast to each other.

Pia rubbed dry, irritated eyes and studied the male standing by Quentin. He was drop-dead gorgeous, with a lean, graceful body, a proud, strong face, mahogany skin, gleaming black hair and a brilliant dark gaze that took in everything around him. He was probably the pegasus that had flown in after the gryphons.

Then she turned her attention to Quentin. Like the gryphons, he was dressed in olive green fatigues and he was armed. It was a huge difference from the casual suits and designer jeans he wore at his bar Elfie’s. He used to have longer, dark blond hair that he kept bound back in a tight queue, but he had cut it for the Games. Now it was military short, which emphasized his spare, graceful features and piercing blue eyes. He looked almost like a stranger to Pia, even though she had known him ever since she had started work at Elfie’s.

Quentin returned Aryal’s stare, his own gaze glittering with such naked hostility that Pia had to blink. Whoa. Not that she blamed him in the slightest. Aryal could make a porcupine appear warm and cuddly, and the harpy was much more likely to make enemies than friends. As Pia watched, Quentin turned away to look around at the chaos in the clearing. His gaze was shadowed and his expression turned tight and bitter. Her heart squeezed. Whether or not he was part Elven himself was beside the point. She knew he’d had connections in the Elven demesne. He had lost friends here.

She wanted to walk over and hug him but resisted the impulse. He held himself in such a way that suggested physical overtures might not be welcome at the moment. Instead she turned her attention to the reason why she had hurried outside in the first place, and she looked for Rune and his Vampyre mate, Carling.

They stood together, well out of the way of those who were parachuting in. Rune was the most handsome of the four gryphons, with a tall, lean swordsman’s body and even, tanned features. His mate Carling was also one of the oldest known Vampyres and one of the most beautiful women Pia had ever seen. The last time Pia had seen Carling, her dark hair had been chopped short. It had grown longer since last summer, and now it brushed the nape of her long, graceful neck.

Rune and Carling talked with a tall Elven woman. It took Pia a few moments to place her. Then she recognized Sidhiel, the Elder tribunal Councillor for the Elves. Sidhiel had been one of Carling’s wardens when the Elder tribunal had placed her under quarantine. Neither Carling nor Rune appeared to hold any grudges over that. As she watched, the Elven Councillor nodded to the other two and strode quickly toward the main building, her features set in a mask of grief.

Pia kept her focus on Rune and Carling as she walked around the edge of the clearing, Eva keeping pace at her side. Despite the activity and noise level, something attracted Rune’s attention and he turned to watch her approach.

Even though she hadn’t known him for long before he left, Rune seemed different from how she remembered him in New York. He looked a touch sharper, his expression darker. Or perhaps that was just his reaction to his surroundings. She gave him a wry smile as she reached him. “Heya, slick.”

Rune’s smile chased the darkness from his face. He pulled her into a brief, hard hug. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good, thanks.” She hugged him back. “We got pretty warm for a little while, but it’s cooled down some.”

“I can see.” Rune glanced around, his lion’s gaze flaring with reflected torchlight.

Pia tapped him on the arm, and his attention came back to her. I don’t know who got in touch with you, but it’s good to see you, she told him.

He said, Gray called me.

She glanced at Graydon affectionately. God love him, Graydon really was true blue, right down to his bones. She turned back to Rune and said aloud, “I just wanted to tell you Dragos might snort and growl when he sees you, but don’t pay any attention. He’ll be glad to see you, no matter what he might say.”

At least she was pretty sure that was true. Or maybe she was just hopeful. One thing about being in so far over your head that you couldn’t see shore—you just had to strike out in some direction and hope for the best, because the surest way to drown was to tread water and stay where you were.

“I am not above saying I told you so,” Carling murmured. “Neither one of you communicated with each other very well last summer, and you both need to get over it and move on.”

Rune looked at his mate sourly. Carling raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes in response. Their nonverbal interaction was so like a married couple’s that Pia had to smile. Whatever had added edges to Rune’s expression, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with his relationship with Carling.

Just then Pia’s skin prickled, and the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck raised. She turned around as Dragos stepped out of the building.

Immediately his attention focused on them. His machete-edged features went still, and those gold, dangerous eyes of his reflected the lights from the nearby torches. He strode toward them, a natural juggernaut with a force of will that could move heaven and earth if he so desired. Both Wyr and Elves scrambled to get out of his path.

Nobody did expressionless quite like Dragos did, the muscles in his massive body coiled with intent. Even though she felt an intimacy with him that stemmed from some deep, instinctive recognition, in some ways he was the most unpredictable person she had ever met.

Then of course after whatever happened next, they had that whole war thing with Gaeleval to consider. Every day with Dragos turned into an adventure. She took a deep breath and braced herself for a bumpy ride.

• • •

Just after the runner had brought the news that the Wyr had arrived, Graydon said in Dragos’s head, We’re here, all the sentinels except Grym, who got the short straw. We brought a hundred of our strongest Wyr just as you ordered. Some are regular army, and some are from the Games, plus there’s two more.

Dragos frowned. That meant Grym had stayed home to keep the peace in New York, which was standard protocol for the sentinels when something extraordinary called them away, but the last bit puzzled him. Plus two?

When I made the announcement to halt the Games, Rune asked me what happened, so I told him, Graydon replied. At least I told him what I knew. He and Carling came to help.

Reaction pulsed through Dragos, every bit as complex as when he had first caught that faint whiff of Rune in the arena. He looked around the chaos in the Elven cell block. Those who had died had been discovered, and a frantic effort was being made to revive them with CPR. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work. Their spirits had already left their bodies, although he doubted anyone would appreciate it if he pointed that out.

He said to Calondir, “There is nothing else I can do here.”

Distracted, Calondir nodded. “I will be up momentarily.” The High Lord’s gaze lifted to his. “We must not delay any longer.”

“Agreed.” He said to Graydon, I’m on my way.

An echo of his earlier thoughts ghosted through his head again as he walked outside, Miguel following close on his heels.

You should have said something earlier.

I should have listened better to you.

He stepped into the death-scented night, caught sight of Pia and Eva standing with Rune and Carling, and clenched his jaw as he strode toward them. Everyone else swirled away from him, like sparks shooting from the flames of the forest fire, each one a bright but ephemeral light. Even the Elves, who were so long-lived in comparison to many others, seemed ephemeral to him, and so easily extinguished.

He stopped and crossed his arms when he reached the quartet. His frowning gaze traveled from Pia, who stood side by side with her bodyguard, to Rune and at last to Carling, where his gaze lingered. The witch returned his regard with equanimity, her expression calm.