She hadn’t pulled the trigger herself, but she might as well have. And that night, she had made the decision to step away from the RFW. Yet here she was, drawn back in. But how could she sit back and do nothing when the Bill of Rights was being crushed under the heel of angry mobs? How could she let innocent women be imprisoned or executed without trials?
“You’re thinking again. You in? Or out?” The expression on Shauna’s face was impatient and her eyes glinted with determination.
Deidre took a breath, then reached down for the black jacket on the couch beside her. “I’m in. I shouldn’t be, but I’m in.”
“Of course you should,” Shauna told her, slipping into her own black jacket. She picked up a revolver, checked to make sure it was loaded, then tucked it into the waistband of her black jeans.
Deidre frowned, unable to stop thinking about the last rescue gone bad. “I thought we agreed no guns.”
“We agreed
you
weren’t going to carry one. But honey, if somebody shoots at me, I’m going to shoot back.”
“This is nuts. The whole world is nuts,” Deidre muttered.
“It’s always been crazy,” Shauna said quietly. “It’s just now, the whole crazy ass world is on a mission.”
A mission to kill witches and rid the world of magic. Which was why Deidre was here, ready to go on another raid. “There has to be a better way to end this.”
“Well, if there is, we haven’t found it,” Shauna said flatly. “Besides, if anyone could do something about this, it’s
you
.”
Deidre laughed shortly, gathered up her blond hair and quickly braided the mass to keep it out of her way. “Right.”
“Your
mother
is the President of the United States.”
“Yeah and she won’t be pleased to know I’m back in the RFW.” Deidre didn’t even want to think about her mother’s reaction. She had been delighted to hear that Deidre was stepping back from the RFW. As president, Cora Sterling walked a fine line between the citizens who wanted magic stamped out—along with the witches who wielded the power—and protecting the witches, who—hello?—were also citizens and had rights.
But then, every major leader in the world was on that tightrope. Magic was out in the open now and those with power were being hunted down like rats by the very governments that should have been protecting them. At least her mom had shown some sympathy for the women being swept up and jailed. Or so Deidre had thought until she discovered that this execution was going ahead as planned
without
the intervention of the president.
Which was why, when Shauna called asking her to help, Deidre had immediately agreed. How could she not? She had seen firsthand the women who were tortured in prison. The women who were so broken by the time they were rescued that they would never recover. And that didn’t even take into account the women who had
died
. No, as much as Deidre wanted to be able to turn her back, she couldn’t.
“Anyway,” she said, jerking her head toward the window and the two men standing in the street, “I still don’t see how we’re supposed to get past the Secret Service guys.”
Shauna grinned. “They’ll never know we’re gone.”
Twelve hours until the execution.
Finn leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and watched his lieutenants prepare for battle. There was no conversation, only the occasional whispered comment. This group had been together only a couple of months and trust was still building. They worked on a first-nameonly basis—that way if one of them were captured they wouldn’t be able to give anyone else up. Danger was a constant companion, with death hovering around every corner, and still they came to fight.
He wondered if it was for love of freedom as they claimed—or if it was just that some people always needed something to rage against.
The lights were dim and seemed to soak into the dank rock walls rather than reflect off them. It smelled like old liquor and cats down here in the chamber below the apartment building’s basement. High above ground, buildings sent spires skyward; down here, there was a labyrinth of tunnels and rooms long forgotten by those who lived on the surface.
Scowling, Finn looked at the people busily strapping weapons to their bodies, getting ready for the raid. Humans. Mortals. Willing to risk their already too-short lives in the hopes of saving innocents.
He had spent centuries avoiding contact with humans. He hated cities. The noise. The crush of humanity. The relentless reminders of just how alone he really was. Yet here he stood. In the heart of a city, surrounded by humans.
War made for strange alliances.
And they were definitely at war.
Finn pushed away from the wall and lifted one hand to his second in command, Joe. A former Navy SEAL, Joe was, like Finn, a born warrior.
“Everyone ready?”
Joe glanced at the others as they checked pistols, stuffed knives into scabbards. “As ready as they can be.”
Finn nodded and reached for the curved bladed sword he had carried for eons. He slid it into the sheath that ran along his spine. “We’ll leave as soon as she gets here.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Boss
. How the hell had his existence come to this, with humans looking to him to lead them? Joe took orders from Finn because he agreed with the missions. He wouldn’t blindly follow anyone for long, and Finn respected him for that. Trusted him. He didn’t trust many, either. His brothers, of course, but humans? They were too fragile. Too easily broken or swayed by whatever opinion was in fashion. They lived foolishly and died too soon. What was the point of knowing them? To an immortal like Finn, a human’s existence was equivalent to a fruit fly’s.
He checked his knives, then tucked a few extra throwing stars into the pockets of his black leather jacket.
But one human was different.
At least, he hoped to hell she was different.
Also by Regan Hastings
Visions of Magic