Yet my mother’s crowd wouldn’t join this movement. These were the next generation, the ones still naïve enough to think they could expose their secrets without consequence, fight humans without selfannihilation. All it might take was some mystical crap about the planets being aligned or signs coming to pass.

Speaking of signs, that’s what Giles was emoting about now.

“—born of two werewolves, male and female. Not just any two werewolves, but bitten wolves. One infected as a mere child and somehow surviving where adults could not. Then he bites his lover, and she survives. The strength of these two individuals alone must be incredible, but to come together, their blood already joined, and bear children? Twins, a boy and a girl. As it is written in our prophecy.”

Prophecy? Like hell. If this guy was telling these kids that Elena and Clay’s twins fulfilled some kind of fucking prophecy—

“Those children are the genesis of a new breed of werewolves. Part of the next step in our evolution. But they are only one part of that step. We have seen more. One stands before you now. A hybrid of the two spellcasting races, equally adept at both kinds of magic. And she is not the last. There is another, born of witch and sorcerer, a child just coming into her powers now.”

Another witch-sorcerer? No way. I would have heard of it. Just like I would have heard of this goddamned prophecy.

Rage boiled up in me as I looked out over those stupid, gullible faces. I wanted to scream at them, knock some sense into their empty heads.

I shifted and glowered, and fought to keep my mouth shut. Faces turned toward me. Only they didn’t look up with the dawning realization that they were falling for the blather of a crazy man. When they saw my anger, they saw proof that Giles was right. I was furious because he’d discovered the truth.

I reined in the anger, forced myself to stand still and listen.

“Clairvoyants have attained the next step of evolution, too,” he continued. “Locked away, deep in the recesses of the Nast Cabal, there is a child, born of two clairvoyants, one of such incredible power his own people kept him hidden from the world. Now the Nasts hide this child because they know the truth—he is but the first of a new breed of clairvoyants that the Cabals are hell-bent on controlling, as they control everything else in our world.”

A grumble quaked across the room. A few people shouted things I didn’t quite catch, but I’m sure it wasn’t “Long Live the Cabals!”

“Even the half-demons are evolving,” Giles continued. “A child of Lucifer is pregnant with a babe of her own, the first grandchild this lord demon will ever see. Its mother is the key to winning us what may be the most undeniable proof that the gods of evolution have chosen us—supernaturals—as their champions. Proof that resides in the deepest cells of yet another Cabal. The Cortezes.”

That’s why Roni had been so interested in Hope. Damn it, I had to get out of here and warn her. I had to warn them all.

As I looked around—yeah, like a portal was going to miraculously appear and whisk me away—I replayed Giles’s words.

He’d said that Hope was the key to getting them proof of advanced evolution, something that the Cortezes were keeping hidden.

No, not something. Someone. Jaz. Jasper Haig, a psychopath obsessed with Hope. The guy in her recent visions.

Kate and Logan. Hope. Jaz. Hope’s unborn baby. Adele Morrissey’s clairvoyant son. Me. Some other witch-sorcerer hybrid kid I’d never heard of.

Maybe I’d never heard this exact prophecy, but I’d heard the whispers. About us. Claiming we were signs that something was coming. Something big.

I’d fluffed it off as superstitious garbage. To every supernatural in a position of knowledge and power, it was just ignorant supernaturals struggling to see patterns in chaos.

Now, though, we lived in an age where strange events could be shared with every supernatural who had an Internet connection. The people ignoring the “signs” were the informed ones, those from the council and the Cabals, with records to prove these events weren’t more than a historical blip. They were the elite, and in any society, the average citizen outnumbers the elite by hundreds or thousands to one.

I looked out at a small sample of those “average citizens” and I could only imagine how many more hadn’t heard Giles’s message. Those who needed just a little more convincing . . . like having him gather every one of those “signs” and shove them in the faces of the general supernatural populace.

The revival meeting continued for another twenty minutes, though Giles added nothing new. Just kept repeating his message and making promises, while his audience hung on his every word.

The man had the gift of persuasion and obvious experience using it. So where had he come from? I detected a faint French accent. Very faint. It reminded me of Cassandra’s, just the barest roll on her r’s and buzzes on her th’s, signs of a life in France hundreds of years ago.

Roni had hinted that Giles was old. Really old. Could he be a vampire like Cassandra? When I studied him, though, I could see him breathing.

She’d also said I was “going to flip” when I found out who he really was. Who he was, not what. Did that mean “Giles” was a fake name? But why?

Was the goal to convert me? Send me back to the council and the Cabals as a sleeper agent? Or a missionary for those open to his message?

If that was the case, then my escape route was clear. Fake a conversion. I just needed to be very careful how I did it.

When the meeting ended, Giles whisked me into the back room, where Roni, Althea, and refreshments waited. Bottled water, juice, and a lovely meat and cheese tray.

I ignored the food and drink. Giles joked that it wasn’t poisoned, and sampled the offerings first. I still wouldn’t touch anything.

Roni kept casting anxious glances my way, like she couldn’t believe I’d heard Giles’s spiel and wasn’t hailing him as a prophet. Giles and Althea seemed unconcerned. If I had experienced a sudden conversion, they’d know I was faking.

Yet once it became apparent that I wasn’t going to make a good party guest, Giles decided I was spoiling the mood. He hinted that I could stay if I ate something. When I refused it was back to my cell.

He returned me himself—blindfolded—accompanied by Roni and Severin. He’d sent Sierra on some task with Althea. Did that mean Giles had already decided I was only worth half a guard detail? Good.