Knowing we could be seeing this city for the last time brought an odd silence over the spacious car. Moving on the highway at ungodly speeds made me to motion sick to stare out the window. 

On our journeys together, Verando tended to insist on city roads for his intel and for the sheer fact he could drive his vehicle. I sink a little more into my seat and shut my eyes to block out the silence of breathing in the shielded car.  I could feel the tension in his leg firmly pressed to mine in the 'grounding' that was the norm for a lycan needing comfort. 

Before my time with the little family, I hadn't noticed it, but now that it has been brought to my attention, I see it more and more frequently. While Verando never sat at my feet as Helen did for Tyler, he was happiest when he could press or lean just the slightest bit into my person. 

I took comfort in the possessive nature, that I was the one he always returned to. Tiberius clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Did you say hello to Whitewind for me?"

The tired expression on my warlord's face indicated he wasn't in the mood for games. "This shit didn't happen until you showed up." 

The accusation is empty; we were all well aware that this had been building for some time as much as I try to forget that the original being resides in his mind. I shudder at the thought that Helen would inherit this problem; they now share the power to create.

Keeta, our resident pink vampire, manages a girlish giggle. "You're welcome then for making your life more exciting. Ti has been having all the fun! I want a bit of wolf action." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, and I ignore her; it wasn't worth our time.

 As the silence builds, Tiberius slides to the edge of his seat to take a more serious posture—the leathers of his outfit squeak against the material of the seats. 

"I brought a peace offering, clothes. You're welcome that they're the right size and quite a better style if I say so myself. There could be press at the tarmac, and we can't let them see you in a small jumper, now can we? What did Tonic tell you?" 

He hands over the stack of clothes and I'm glad to see, for the most part, I'm clean, if not a little water-stained from my time kneeling in the snow. As the gray-haired man begins to slip out of the stretched jumper, I eye the bruised shoulder and stop him. 

"Can I try and heal this?" I ask, placing my hand carefully on his shoulder. While he looks reluctant, he's much less reluctant to let them see us divided or believe that he didn't trust my magic. They couldn't know it was just his own stubborn nature that prevented me from treating him. 

Tiberius eyes me once more. 

"Can you no longer heal...? You're very powerful, are you not?" The question comes across as more curious than I'd like. 

I consider him as I press my hand to the darkened area, using my mind's eye to trace the bones and the muscles, tracking that they match up. The image is muddied by the metal plate inserted to provide support. His pain could become my own if I sought it outright, a bond between me and the wolf. 

"Solomonari specialize. My abilities are much more suited for combat than healing. I was a great healer when I was younger, but as I became stronger in battle tactics, my healing stopped being as potent."

Tilting his head, he changes places with one of the band members to sit closer to us. "Well, magic is much like a muscle; it gets weaker if you don't use it."

I frown at him. "My magic isn't like that."

He laughs in defiance. "All magic is like that. You're not special because you call yourself something different. A runner and a weight lifter are still capable of doing each other's tasks, one is just more difficult than the other. How often do you push to your breaking point?" 

I'm unnerved by his questions, he knows too much and to little all at the same time. Solomonaris weren't like other magic users in that the way we were trained was quite different. Yet, he did seem to have some knowledge. He was definitely older than either of us by a millennium. 

Desperate to get off the topic of my magic, I circled back to our discussion about Tonic. My expression guarded, as I massage, I conclude that Verando feels much the same considering the rigidity of his body. "Tonic said that there was an army waiting for us in France, that they would attack on our wedding day with plans to assassinate me." 

Murmurs fill the space, and I push my fingers against the bruised flesh, silently apologizing as his body shivers from the discomfort. 

"I'll do more tonight," I tell him softly, allowing him to retreat and pull on the button-down white long-sleeve shirt. Doing up the buttons, he slips into a pale tan waistcoat overtop. It takes some effort with his height and the available space, but he manages to wriggle out of his jumpsuit and into the pair of dark-wash jeans. 

"That doesn't surprise me. You're powerful, as I said. If anyone can stop Gabriel, it's the pair of you. Hence why you're here in this lovely time." Tiberius ponders this, tilting his head curiously as he toys with one long, singularly braided strand of his dark mane. I note around his eyes are dark and bruise-like, as if he were wearing makeup only the color seems to go deeper than that. "And you agree Gabriel has Fergus?"

I make a face because I'm not certain. Verando bridges his body with a flinch, zipping and buttoning his pants after tucking his shirt in. "He wouldn't be waiting for us with an army if he didn't have anything. If it's not Fergus, it's equally as destructive."

"Perhaps we should call off the wedding..." Tiberius ponders, eyeing the group for input but finding little to be had. "There will be too many civilians to fight back. "

"Or use it to confront his force head-on." Verando's words surprise me; I turn to pull my eyebrows down at him, taking in his experience though he wears his war face. The expressionless calm of a military mind. "We pretend like it's going to be massive, we invite no one but our own army, we fight back and slaughter the lot of them. Case closed."

"What army?" Keeta chuckles, gesturing to the space around us. "We would be the ones slaughtered. If Gabriel has an army-"

I cut her off because I agree with her. "Tonic said that Gabriel's people want no more humans; they want a world only occupied by magic users. Who would stand with us against them?" 

His expression doesn't falter, the light eyes play on the flicker of light managing to sneak in through the heavily tinted windows. "The same ones who wanted to fight with us for equality so long ago. People are scared; they think the world is ending. If there was another option, I'm sure they would join us. Not all but most, instead of touring, we'd be traveling; we are prepared for this type of recruitment only this time, we don't have a bloody court to get in our way. The world has waited four hundred years for this fight; we aren't going to get out of it by running away."

"The empire lost that fight." Tiberius reminds us, indicating that we are on the side of the opposing force. The one that swallows everything and consumes all. 

I had been asking myself, were we still the good guys? I had to believe that we were. Turning back to Verando, I resist the urge to place my hands on him, to feel what his face wouldn't show me. "If we split off, there will be three armies; this will be a world war. Not all of humanity will side with us... This could be what ends all of us. It's not the same as our small country standing against the empire."

Verando's eyes search mine, and I know his conviction is absolute. He's decided what we must do; he's just waiting for me to decide what I want. "Maybe a world war is what needed to happen all along. We knew then that the armies of man would come for us and they have."

"There might not be a world left to fight for..." I remind him bleakly. "If we don't find Fergus... the earth tremors indicate that this planet is failing. What if Gabriel is not strong enough to restart the planet? We would have wasted all this time preparing for nothing." 

Tiberius frowns. "But if we do nothing and the earth continues to spin, if you get Fergus away from Gabriel and we have no force behind us, he will annihilate all of us. My magic can only do some much, I can not interfere with this. I can only be your advocate." 

We were damned if we do and damned if we don't. My fingers trail nervously through my hair as I try to think of a different angle, another way that best uses our time. 

"How?" I demand. "How would we get the funds? The space, the people, the training? How? Verando divided the power to create; we are operating under the assumption that that didn't greatly weaken us." I try not to sound accusing; we had just left our army safely back in the depths of the Dead City. 

Exhaling slowly, Verando's tanned hand rests on my knee, and I spy the wedding ring that still makes my heart flutter. "The places where magic originated are still there. It might take some creative thinking, but we've done a lot more with a lot less." 

I vaguely recall how much of our lives were lived on the run in those short few years when the war took place. We slept outside or in conquered dwellings, was that the path we were hoping to take once more? 

"So you want to take a city...?" I ask numbly. Over and over, my mind drifts back to Xavier. We didn't have years, I wanted to go home; I wanted to spend time with my baby.

Verando shrugs, unwillingly to answer. We think differently; he easily took my home with so few forces that it was offensive. I was much less eager to uproot civilians for war, even if it involved them. 

Tiberius crosses his arms over his chest, "When we get to France, I have some friends I think you'll be very interested in meeting that might be able to clear some of this up and send us on the right path. Don't get your panties too twisted, Nic. We have only just begun."

Our time until now had felt like child's play. If I had known what to prepare for, I would have done more to prepare myself to step right back into the fray. Verando had said when we first arrived that we were stepping into a war, which Marcello had adamantly denied. It was never a planetary issue as I had so blindly convinced myself with miracles and political games wound so intricately to keep us distracted.

 Red was a sacrificial lamb; we chased her and chased this disease of this planet when the answer was beyond our sight this whole time. 

I shake my head, feeling foolish. I had lived this before; I should know better. "You said this would happen," I remind him gently. I earn my favorite look, boarding on 'I told you so.' 

Verando raises his shoulders lazily, guarding the injured one. "We all wanted to believe that this would not come to fruition. Now that it's here, we can only answer the call."

Pulling up to the tarmac, the roar and airy dramatics of aircraft all around us send my warlord's pulse skyrocketing. "Are we not getting on a boat...?" 

I almost chuckle, knowing his distaste for boats runs deeper than his loathing of dragons.

Tiberius laughs as we climb out of the car, handing over earbuds for the sensitive lycan. I spot Pascal and Sulema in the distance, coupled with our new fire mage. I can't help but beam at them, grateful that we aren't doing this alone. 

I'm relieved Grayson did not make the cut. Verando reluctantly walks alongside me near the aircraft. His hand snags mine, and his fingers lock my palm firmly against his. Holding the dark navy coat in his arm, I feel like I'm dragging him. 

"Go on without us. We'll be right there." I gesture to the Siren's to board the plane and turn to face him. "It's just like being on a dragon, I'd imagine." I can't hide my excitement. I love to fly, and I'd seen the airplanes in enough movies to allow my curiosity to run wild. "It's the fastest way to get to France."

His body trembles against his will, and the occasional spasm of fear escapes the rigid muscles. "If it crashes, there will be nothing I can do to save you. You are trusting man to build a craft that will float in the sky under its power; this isn't a charm or some-" he shakes his head in disbelief. "I've such little faith in human engineers. I feel like I'm handing you over to an executioner."

I sigh, composing myself because I find him endearing. He fears so little that anything out of his control will bring him to a screeching halt. "You can't control everything," I whisper. 

"I can damn sure try." He allows a quiet admittance of his vices. Reaching up, I unbutton the two buttons of the long sleeve and carefully refold the collar. "There has to be another way."

Smoothing my hands down his chest, I skirt over his pounding pulse. "Do you remember when you told me it's okay to be afraid? Sometimes, you'll have to do it anyway?"

I earn myself a glare and stretch on my toes to kiss his neck, his full height too tall to reach him without his help. "Come on. Let's earn a few more gray hairs; I'm getting cold."

The one thing he values more than his self-preservation is my life. Collecting my hands in his to kiss my knuckles, he feels my chilled skin and accepts his demise. 

I led him to the plane, and we climbed the stairs, me following behind him to prevent a runaway should he decide at the last minute to escape. 

The inside is spacious, with copious plush seats with various adjustments. It is more open than I'd seen in the movies, and Tiberius informs me it is their band's private jet. It wasn't necessarily safe to have Sirens traveling with the common folk, considering their job was to lead people to their deaths. So their plane was reasonably necessary; with a Siren as our pilot, we were at little risk of crashing headlong into a mountain. 

Flopping down in a chair, Tiberius props up his feet and folds his hands behind his head. "Buckle up, gentlemen; once we reach altitude, we will be in the air for over seven hours. Then, we will arrive safely in France." I feel the tension without needing to touch him; one of the band members hands me a bottle of whiskey and eyes my companion. 

"Here, lycan. Calm your nerves." Though he pointedly hands the bottle to me. "Don't allow the shift on this plane; it will crash."

"Oh good." Verando retorts sarcastically as I direct him to a seat, and he harshly pulls the seal over the window. While I want to plead with him to leave it open, I would have no such luck. I drift to the small room behind the cockpit and grab a glass and some ice, hoping to slow him down. 

Reluctantly, I pour him a drink and hand it over. It was a temptation for me as well; it was my current coping mechanism. But, I found I didn't need it so much these days.

"Mind your alcohol, please, babe." I keep my voice low, a silent plea considering his risque nature when he was intoxicated. 

Verando scoffs, snagging the drink and taking a long sip. "Babe..." he grumbles, unimpressed. "Sounds like a name for a woman."

Pascal chuckles, peeking over the top of the seat. "I would never let anyone call me Babe, but you act like quite the woman. It's good that your big, strong boyfriend is here to protect you." She teases, grinning like a sly cat, the rounds of her cheeks nearly blocking out her eyes in her amusement. 

The shaved space on the side of her head had begun to grow out, and her hair was nearly all one short length. 

I smirk in response, "Big strong husband." I correct her cheerfully, and we exchange a laugh that eases my nerves, not for me but for keeping this man calm for 7 hours. 

He downs the drink and returns the glass to my hands, though it doesn't seem to be a request for more. Crossing one leg over the other, he folds himself into a package of infuriated and overwhelmed testosterone that I dare not prod any longer. 

Motioning to Pascal to skip over a seat, she leans out into the aisle way instead and we leave him to decompress as the plane begins to take off.