“I second what Ice said,” Caden muttered.

“You had no magical protections on the book?” Duke asked.

“Of course. Against anyone magical. I never imagined a human would know of the book’s existence, much less that I had it. The only way she could know is if she’s Mathias’s pawn. I worry . . . What if he has the diary now? What will he do to her?” Bram paced, raking a frantic hand through his golden hair.

Marrok planted a friendly hand on Bram’s shoulder. “Use your bond to find her.”

With a shake of his golden hair, Bram sighed in frustration. “I can’t and I don’t understand why. I should be able to . . . It’s confounding me.”

“You touched her, aye?” Marrok asked. “Did you not use your powers to read her mind?”

“Yes . . . and no. I could read her body with my touch, but not her thoughts. I’ve never encountered such a woman before.”

Duke sighed. “What the devil should we do now?”

Panic? Caden kept the thought to himself.

“Not to add to our problems, but have you seen this?” Duke slid a newspaper in the middle of Bram’s desk. The bold black headline screamed Supernatural Forces Battle in South London Tunnel.

Bram glanced at the paper. “Out of This Realm? It’s a rag. No one takes that rubbish seriously.”

Not true. Back home, several of the reporters at the Dallas Morning News were addicted to the paper’s imaginative stories. They were more creative than The National Enquirer’s.

“That may change after this issue’s lead article. The byline belongs to a reporter named Sydney Blair. She’s disturbingly close to the truth. Most news outlets wrote off the battle with Mathias as a foiled terrorist act, a gang initiation, or the work of a madman. Ms. Blair calls it ‘an ongoing clash between powerful factions within magickind.’ ”

Bram’s eyes bulged. “How the bloody hell does she even know there’s a magickind, much less an ongoing battle? Few in magickind know of Mathias’s return.”

Though Caden had eschewed magic long ago, even he knew the necessity of keeping magickind’s existence a secret from humans. Witch hunts, trials for heresy, and burnings at the stake weren’t distant memories for a society whose citizens often lived to be one thousand. The seventeenth century was, relatively speaking, last year. No one was naďve enough to think that technology was any insurance policy against genocide. People still killed what they didn’t understand.

“I consulted Peers and People of Magickind before coming here. I found no mention of her,” Duke said. “She is no witch, nor is she mated to a wizard.”

“Human? Mayhap she’s one of Mathias’s soulless minions,” Marrok suggested.

“If Mathias wanted to influence humanity, he wouldn’t take over a tabloid reporter’s mind to do it,” Bram assured. “Besides, if she’s still leading a human life, she could not do so looking like an undead Anarki. The other humans notice walking cadavers.”

“So she’s fully human,” Duke surmised. “And frightfully well informed.”

“Or perhaps . . .” Ice glared at him. “She’s getting her information from someone who rejected magickind and would celebrate its end.”

“Me?” Caden jumped in the big wizard’s face. “I’ve no love for magic, true, but I would never advocate mass murder. Besides, ending you all would mean my brother’s death. Would I be here saving him if I was willing to kill magickind?”

Duke nodded, the cooler head prevailing. “He’s right.”

Muttering, Ice backed away. Barely.

Turning back to the newspaper, Duke went on, “Whoever she is, she’s dangerous. The rest of the article is equally disturbing. ‘The bodies discovered in the tunnel are decomposed far beyond expected, given their recent deaths.’ ”

“This is no secret.” Marrok waved his words away. “The media has been scratching over that like a mongrel with fleas.”

“Listen further,” Duke barked. “ ‘Out of This Realm has learned the bodies bear new wounds and fresh traces of gunpowder, suggesting they somehow fought in the battle, rather than merely being left behind as a macabre message. It appears as if they were actually more dead than alive prior to the battle, but able to fight due to evil magic.’ ”

“She’s guessing,” said Bram.

But even he didn’t sound convinced. Caden winced.

Duke shook his head. “Here’s more: ‘According to an anonymous source, there’s a mad wizard on the loose once more, allegedly fighting social injustice in the magical world. He’ll stop at nothing to tear down the establishment and replace it with his version of anarchy.’ ”

Caden shook his head. Poor magical bastards.

“Who is this anonymous source?” Bram demanded.

Duke laced his fingers together with quiet concern. “Ms. Blair claims it’s ‘a witch who recently found herself tangled in this magical war.’ ”

“A witch?” Ice spat. “Who knows so much?”

Caden’s heart stuttered and adrenaline charged. “Anka.”

“Or perhaps any of the other missing women, like Craddock’s daughter,” Ice pointed out. “But what witch in her right mind would spill sensitive secrets to a bloody reporter?”

Who knew? Still . . . “It could be Anka,” Caden insisted.

And possibly the first clue Caden had discovered to her whereabouts in a fortnight.

“Whoever her source, Sydney Blair knows there’s a magickind, that we’re at war, and that Mathias is supposedly fighting the Social Order,” Duke insisted.

“The moment anyone actually listens, humanity will hunt us. It’ll make the Inquisition seem like a bloody holiday.” Bram raked a hand through his disheveled golden hair and continued to pace. “And if Mathias reads this, her life may well be in danger. We must handle this situation immediately.”

Bram leaned back against his desk. The morning sun slanted through the office’s open shutters, showing just how much strain the wizard was enduring. He swallowed, then pinned a wily gaze on Caden that made his blood freeze. “I know how we can deal with Ms. Blair. You’ve worked at a newspaper.”

Caden sent him a wary glance. “So?”

“Offer your services as a photographer and shut her up, before she reveals anything more about magickind.”

He didn’t want to get involved. “Why don’t you visit her and do that wizard mind-reading trick of yours?”

“Only works if I’m touching a woman—deeply. Now that I’m mated . . . well, I can no longer get that close to Sydney Blair, or any woman except mine. So you’ll have to go and pry information from her the human way.”

Caden’s thoughts raced. Perhaps he could placate them and help his brother. If he worked for Ms. Blair, he could discern if her anonymous source was Anka.

Bram smiled tightly. Bloody bastard had Caden by the balls and he knew it. In order to make Lucan whole, he must find his brother’s mate. At the moment, the reporter was his best—and only—lead.

“Have we come to the part yet where I spank you?”

Sydney Blair closed her eyes as the last notes of “Happy Birthday” echoed through the small conference room. Had her perpetually randy coworker, Jamie, actually suggested a little light S&M with the entire staff of Out of This Realm looking on?

A dozen of the newspaper’s employees twittered with nervous laughter, except her yummy new photographer, Caden MacTavish. Mortified, Sydney risked a glance at him. The taut arms bunched over his wide chest and the chilly blue of his watchful eyes made her wince.

Sydney slowly turned to the office lothario with a glare that let him know how little she appreciated his comment. He merely wagged his brows at her and grinned from ear to ear.

“Have we come to the part yet where you leave?” Caden countered.

The words somehow sounded polite. Caden had that upper crust Londoner sound, though muted by time elsewhere. But he could still say most anything and sound civilized. His current expression, on the other hand, rivaled Attila the Hun’s on a bad day.

“You think you should be first to have a go at her?” Jamie challenged Caden. “I’ve seen how you stare.”

Sydney went hot all over—from more than simple embarrassment. Caden lit her up like a millennium fireworks show. She’d be thrilled if the man had sexual thoughts of her. But in the few days she’d worked with him, he had not appeared to notice her more than professionally, despite Jamie’s delusions to the contrary.

“Bad karma!” Aquarius, her flower-child assistant, scolded. “Mellow!”

Neither spared a glance for the little waif. Silver bracelets tinkling, Aquarius reached out to Caden. Whether she intended to soothe him or test his aura, Sydney didn’t know. She shot a warning glance at her assistant. Now was not a good time for her healing-crystal/save-the-world routine.

“You may find this concept hard to grasp,” Caden asserted, “but some men are capable of admiring more about a woman than what’s in her knickers.”

Jamie scoffed. “If he’s a nancy boy.”

Sydney smothered a laugh. Caden was definitely not gay. Despite that, she felt certain he’d never considered what went in her knickers. “Stop it, both of you! This is a birthday party, not a brawl.”

“What’s your wish?” asked Leslie from Circulation, trying to smooth the tension.

A romping shag with Caden, but since that wasn’t likely to happen . . . head reporter had a lovely ring to it. Sure, she worked for a paranormal tabloid that few took seriously, but it paid the bills. Soon, she hoped to make a name for herself writing stories that traditional journalists eschewed. And people everywhere would recognize her once she found proof of the supernatural. Until then she would write about the world she believed must exist—and her parents had utterly rejected. Besides, Out of This Realm was a scream to work at. Where else could she collect a salary for chasing Ripper ghosts and conducting interviews at the London Psychic Centre?

Her personal life, on the other hand? Disaster. How did one manage to become a sad spinster at twenty-eight? The endless string of dates from her uni days had been replaced with deadlines and staff meetings. Her last boyfriend . . . his pretty face had failed to compensate for the fact he had the IQ of a dead houseplant and the emotional range of a pea. Perhaps she should wish for a man.

For Caden.

Yummy waves of chocolate hair with caramel streaks, fathomless blue eyes, a body that belonged in magazines— and a reserved exterior that made her long to know the man beneath. Too bad the attraction didn’t run both ways. She sighed.

“She can’t tell us her wish or it won’t come true,” Holly, her editor, pointed out, then faced Sydney. “Now stop fannying about and open your gifts.”

Sydney looked at the gifts on the table, but her gaze strayed to Caden, who continued glaring at Jamie.

He was a puzzle, that one.

From the moment Caden had walked in the door, he’d been fixated on that battle in the South London tunnel a few weeks back. He’d said her story about the magical war was utter rubbish . . . but asked a load of questions, especially about her source. Not that Sydney would tell him—or anyone else—the woman’s name. Impossible, anyway. She didn’t know it.

Aquarius distracted the tense crowd by shoving a bright pink floral-wrapped box into Sydney’s hands. From the number of packages stacked on the small round table in the conference room, it looked as if everyone had brought her something.

“You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.”

“We want to show you how much we appreciate you,” said Leslie.

Aquarius started pouring cups of her infamous homeblended herbal tea as Sydney unwrapped gifts. A pair of delicate silver earrings, a relaxing massage at a local day spa, and a sumptuous Italian silk scarf trimmed in blue crushed velvet. Jamie gave her a gift certificate for a large pizza and a Blockbuster card—both of which he’d likely insist on sharing. Caden had given her a somewhat impersonal card and a small box of nice chocolates. She would have preferred a hungry kiss.

Wrapping paper and greeting cards littered the table when Sydney at last got to Aquarius’s package. The young woman was practically vibrating with excitement. “Open this! It’s from me.”

“You baked and organized and still got me something? You shouldn’t have.”

With the butterfly tattoo on her shoulder and her mesh and lace top, Aquarius didn’t dress like a normal assistant and refused to make coffee—too full of chemicals and caffeine. She wasn’t good with a computer . . . yet. But Aquarius had a knack for stories, for juggling Sydney’s hectic schedule, fielding the editor-in-chief, soothing paranoid readers and keeping internal chaos at a minimum. And despite being total opposites, she and Aquarius had become good friends. Sydney smiled at the thought.

“Are you two going to start snogging or are you going to open that?” Jamie hollered.

After tossing another glare at Jamie, Sydney turned to the gift. It was square and slightly heavy. Aquarius had wrapped it in buttery yellow linen and an over layer of white lace— different from her usual recycled choice.

“Open it. Go on,” she whispered.

An odd anticipation revved through Sydney as she plucked at the silky white bow and tore open the wrapping to reveal . . . a book. An old-fashioned book. A red leather cover with gilt framing and some sort of scripty-looking symbol on the front. Sydney tried to hide her confusion.

Caden elbowed in and gave the book a very hard stare.

Aquarius laughed and urged her, “Read the card inside.”

With a shrug, she opened the cover to reveal. Hmm . . . An empty book with ever-so-slightly yellowed pages and a little white square of paper with a formal-looking script that read:

On these magical pages, spill your sensual fantasy,

In a mere day’s time, your wishes will become reality.