Devils & Thieves (Devils & Thieves #1)(26)

“I’ve been looking for you, too,” I said. “You were about to tell me something when Darek walked in and—”

“Calling him by his first name now, are you?”

“What else would I call him?”

“Hot Stuff, maybe.”

I sighed. “So what were you going to tell me? Something you found of your dad’s?”

“Later. First, we are on a mission,” she said triumphantly, as if we were setting off to save the world. But I knew Alex well enough that I was immediately on guard. Her missions usually led to trouble. Actually, everything Alex did led to trouble.

“What sort of mission? And can I have a drink first?”

“Operation: Eavesdrop. And no, you can’t.” She tugged my arm, clearly willing to put up a fight.

With a whine, I started walking. “Who are we eavesdropping on?”

“My brother.”

A few kindled I didn’t recognize hurried down the path ahead of us, lighting lanterns suspended from curved iron hooks. Two of the kindled used conventional grill lighters. The third used her outstretched hand and a breath of shimmering pink air. The wick inside the lantern caught quickly, the tip of the flame crackling with magic. It reminded me of fireworks—a snap and sparkle, along with the earth-and-flowers scent of terra magic.

Alex led me to an unmarked tent that sat on the edge of the large clearing, far enough away from the festival entrance that no one had managed to stumble their way back here yet, and if Crowe had his way, no one would.

Shhh, Alex mouthed, and pressed a finger against her lips.

I rolled my eyes, because obviously I knew the finer points of eavesdropping.

The lanterns here hadn’t been lit yet, and the shadows had gathered in wide swaths, giving us enough darkness to disappear. Suddenly I was eight years old again, and listening in on our parents as they drank and practiced and talked about the old days.

Adult conversations had always been their own kind of magic, and although Crowe wasn’t much older than we were, club business—business we weren’t technically privy to—was just as exciting to listen in on. Plus, the fog of magic was a little lighter here with fewer kindled and cuts around, so I could breathe and see a little easier.

We crept around to the back of the tent and got as close to the canvas as we dared.

I could hear the shuffle of boots over dry grass as someone circled the inside of the tent.

“Jane warned me something might go down tonight,” Crowe was saying. “You all know we’ve made a lot of enemies. The Deathstalkers are here and shouldn’t be underestimated, even if their numbers are small. And I’ll be honest—I’m not sure if the Sixes and the Kings consider our beef settled from earlier this year—”

“I’m thinking you served that beef to them pretty well-done, Crowe,” Boone said. A ripple of laughter went through the tent.

“I did what I had to do to discourage further patch-over attempts. Now, I know this is supposed to be a celebration, but it’s also an opportunity for someone to make a move. We’re all here in one place and half of us will be drunk by midnight.”

A few of them whistled and clapped.

“I want our people safe,” Crowe continued, and the tent fell silent again. “And we need to protect those who can’t protect themselves for whatever reason. Brooke, keep an eye on Old Lady Jane. She might not be a Devil, but she’s important and valuable.”

“And old,” said Brooke, laughter in her voice. “And weird as shit.”

“Be careful about saying any of that to her face,” said Crowe. “Unless you want her to tell you when you’re going to die.”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She would,” said Crowe. “She’s done it before, and she’s never been wrong.” He sounded solemn now. And miserable.

Next to me, Alex’s eyebrows rose in question.

“Boone,” Crowe went on, “I want you on Alex. She’s bound and powerless for the time being. Kent, keep an eye on my mother. She can hold her own, but you can’t be too careful. Hardy, I want you on Jemmie.”

I let out a surprised gasp. He was willing to waste one of his best men on shadowing me?

Alex scowled at me and I clamped my mouth shut.

From the crunch of his footsteps in the dried grass, I could tell Crowe was moving through the gang as he gave each of them their assignments. The light inside threw his shadow against the canvas as he approached, and he was now just feet away, a thin flap of fabric the only thing between us. I held my breath, hoping he hadn’t heard me. I wasn’t sure what he’d do if he caught us listening in on a conversation we definitely should not be listening in on.

“Flynn, keep an eye on the Stalkers,” he went on. “They have eight full-patch members here who you all know, plus a prospect. Darwin or Derwood or something.”

Alex stifled a snort.

“I think his name is Drake,” offered Hardy.

“Nah, it’s Drew,” said Flynn. “I ran into him near the outhouses earlier. He definitely looked like he was about to shit his pants.” He had altered his voice with his inlusio magic, deepening it so that it echoed inside the flimsy tent. Puffs of his power wafted from within, and I inhaled the cigar scent of it.

Crowe chuckled. “Well, I’m guessing if none of us have heard of him and he hasn’t drawn enough attention for us to even remember his name, he’s not a major threat. I’d know if he had a rep.”