When he entered the weapons room, he found Heather staring into her mirror. That dark mirror always made him nervous.

“The trade’s set,” she said. “We meet the panthers in the swamp at dawn.”

He’d finally get his justice. He’d claw the flesh from Brandt’s body, make the bastard beg, and then send him to hell.

Tanner inhaled. The thick scent of incense was gone. Incense—and magic. “Did you really think that was wise?”

Heather looked up slowly. Her face seemed paler. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was perfectly expressionless. She did that when she lied. Let all the emotion drain away until nothing was left.

He tapped his nose. “Shifter senses, remember? When we came in, I noticed you’d added something extra to your usual incense mix.”

Her lips curled in a faint smile. “It was just a light spell. Harmless, really.”

Did he look stupid? “What did it do?”

She shrugged. Her hands were on the mirror, as if she were trying to shove images back inside of it. “The spell I cast simply lowers inhibitions. It makes us more likely to take the things that we want.”

His eyes rose toward the ceiling. He had no doubt what Azrael wanted. “Brandt will smell him on her.” He looked back at Heather.

“Yes.” Her smile held an icy edge. “And it will make him furious.”

Furious was probably way too mild of a word. “Brandt killed her last lover.” When he’d first started digging into Jade’s life, he’d learned details that made even him shudder. She hadn’t been given an easy time of it, no thanks to Brandt Dupre.

Heather lifted her hands from the mirror. “But we’re counting on him not being able to kill Az, right? That is our master plan.”

Not our. “Did you scry? What did the mirror tell you?”

Her smile faded. “Someone will find death at dawn.”

“Brandt.” About damn time. Satisfaction had his body tensing.

“His heart stops.”

Tanner suspected his grin was savage. Working with Heather had been a risky business, but he’d known the witch held just as much of a grudge as he did.

Brandt had a way of leaving hell in his wake. He’d nearly broken Heather. Promised her eternity, a love that wouldn’t die . . .

But then he’d met Jade, and he’d tried to destroy the witch he didn’t want any longer.

Heather rubbed her right shoulder. Tanner knew her fingers pressed against the edge of scars that began at her shoulder and ended at her heart. Scars made by a shifter’s claws.

“Brandt can be a jealous bastard,” she said quietly. “That jealousy will make him weak. He’ll be so enraged that he won’t stop to think. He’ll just attack.”

Blind rage could be a weakness. For a shifter, it could also be a deadly power. Rage gave the beast within strength.

He sure hoped this gamble paid off. Because if it didn’t, there’d be no escape for any of them.

Tanner turned away from her.

“Wait!”

Shoulders stiff, he turned back. She was frowning at him. “The magic . . . it didn’t affect you?”

No, it had. He wanted. Heather was a beautiful woman, but he knew just how deadly she could be. Brandt hadn’t only left scars on her body, he’d twisted her soul. Use her, don’t trust her.

So he was holding on to his control. The witch wouldn’t get any more power over him.

“What will you do when Brandt’s dead?” He asked her instead of answering the question. As long as he’d known her—and he’d first found her years ago, nearly dead and covered in blood as she tried to crawl out of the swamp—she’d never talked about her own future. Others, yeah, she talked about what would come for them all the time.

Had she ever scryed to see what her own life would be like?

Her brows lowered. She shook her head. “I don’t—”

He sighed. Tanner knew fear when he saw it. “Maybe you should figure it out.”

She bit her lip and didn’t look quite so all-powerful.

“You’re not evil,” he told her. Twisted, just like he was, but at her core, Heather wasn’t without a soul. “Maybe, maybe you can find the girl that you used to be.”

Her hand slipped to her heart. Pressed over the soft fabric that covered her. “She’s lost.” Sadness hunched her shoulders and made her eyes look lost. “Sometimes, I think she’s dead.”

“No.” His answer was instant. “Brandt’s the one who’s dead. The bastard just doesn’t know it yet.”