Gideon watched from the deep shadows of an alcove. Before him, the woman he met seven months ago danced as she tested the sound and lights. It was as if rainbows and music erased her earlier sadness.

When he'd seen that single tear, it'd taken nearly all the will power Gideon possessed to stay where he was. He wanted to know who'd made Remi cry so he could destroy them. If it were Trystan, then it'd be a case of justifiable homicide.

Was Remi still with him?

Shaking his head, Gideon spun on his heel and walked down a tunnel hidden from Remi Dixon by one of the arch's pillars. As with the rest of the underground domain of Axel Moreau, it was poorly lit. However, with his beast-heightened senses, it was easy enough for him to find his way.

The club's owner was a shady businessman. Axel was a man of loose morals and questionable character. Gideon, when he ran the network of shifter loners, had come to the underworld boss now and then for solutions to his problems. The man knew far too many of Gideon's secrets, something the shaman never let him forget.

That Moreau had a human working at La Vie d'Paris was worrisome. The shady shaman never did anything without an ulterior motive. Gideon needed to find a way to watch over Remi tonight, surreptitiously repay her for saving him back in May. The club would be filled with all manner of creature from the races. It wouldn't be a safe place for a human to be, especially on New Year's Eve when the mood for celebration and supernatural antics were high.

Taking a right, then left at the next intersections, Gideon came to a familiar door at the end of a long corridor. Pausing before it, he made out two muffled, yet recognizable male voices. One was Axel Moreau. The other was the shifter king's father-in-law, Aeddon Darkin.

"I wouldn't think a witch would willingly do a shifter's bidding," Axel's deep voice taunted. Most shaman were stuck-up, egotistical pricks. The owner of La Vie d'Paris was different. He had no problem going low for monetary gain or personal amusement.

"When said shifters and I have similar goals, why not?" Aeddon rejoined.

"And what would those 'goals' be?" Axel poked.

Gideon rapped on the door twice, then entered. The less Axel knew about the male witch, the better. The dark features on the nightclub owner's face smoothed, became less intense. But his bottle glass, blue eyes were hard. They held a calculating glint.

"I do hope everything is ok in the States," Axel said with false concern.

Aeddon caught Gideon's eye, then he slightly shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't let anything slip while Gideon was gone.

"As well as can be expected," Gideon answered cautiously. He'd taken a phone call from Wolfrick Jaeger - the shifter king - above ground. Cell service was spotty at best in the catacombs. Wolf had wanted an update on their search for the demon who'd been plaguing their race for decades.

The blond, male witch grunted. He likely wanted information on his daughter, Wolfrick's mate. But he knew now was not the time to ask, not with the wily shaman listening.

"So," Axel leaned back in his chair and laced fingers behind his head. "What was it you needed from me?"

Here they had to be careful. They'd hit a snag in tracking an incubus, or rather the man he'd possessed. The demon was sealed in Hell, but some of those seals – humans – had been "broken" during the apocalypse. The barrier that kept demons where they belonged was tied to human DNA. If you killed off a bloodline, the seal was broken. As a result, Hell was able to influence those on earth more easily.

"What can you tell us of a shaman who uses a cape made of many skins?" Gideon prodded.

That got Axel's attention. Unlacing his fingers, the shaman straightened his spine. Realizing he'd given much away with his reaction, he resumed his original pose. But when he spoke, Moureau didn't deny knowledge of the cape. "It is evil, an abomination." His forcefully whispered words boomed in the office.

Gideon's pulse sped up with the revelation. It was more than they'd gotten from their ally, Owen Walker. When presented with the cape, he'd turned cagey as all shaman were. The newly minted chancellor wouldn't talk out-of-school, not until he got the rest of his council's permission. Of course, the shifter king didn't want that race's ruling body to catch wind of his part in the death of one of their own. So, they'd been at an impasse.

"Anything else?" Aeddon urged.

Shifting position, Axel rested his elbows on his chair's arms, then steepled his fingertips in front of his lips. Those disturbingly blue eyes gazed at the two men before him. "There is," he eventually answered. "But nothing is free. What have you to offer in exchange for this information."

Beside him, Gideon heard Aeddon suck in a deep breath. The witch was likely about to try and bully the shaman. From prior dealings with Moreau, Gideon knew that tactic wouldn't work. Holding up a staying hand, he offered, "How about the tale of how it came to be in our possession?"

Interest lit those glass blue eyes. Aeddon grumbled beside Gideon. They'd gone to great lengths to hide their deeds when a representative of the shaman council - Owen - came sniffing around a few weeks ago. No doubt, the club's owner had heard some of the story of the chancellor's demise through his network of spies. But the shifters had been careful to keep their part in Jakob Magnusson's death quiet.

Dropping his hands to rest in his lap, Axel said, "If I get the whole, unvarnished truth, then we have a deal."

"Wolf won't like this," Aeddon muttered, then fell silent. He'd issued his objections with the warning. It was up to Gideon to choose whether to tell the king's secrets.

After a brief moment's hesitation, Gideon decided that Wolfrick Jaeger would want information more than to keep a secret that might spark a conflict between the shifters and the shaman council. With Owen Walker now a ruling member and an ally of sorts, it was no longer a sure thing.

"The one who created the cape was possessed by a demon." Then, Gideon told Axel of how it'd attacked their king and Breqlynn Darkin, his mate. In the end, the vessel which the demon used – shaman chancellor, Jakob Magnusson – had been killed. Once Walker came to find out what'd happened, they'd destroyed the evidence of their crime.

The story of how the shifter king thwarted the shaman may have been valuable to Axel, or it may not have been. It was risky to ask for too much from the club's owner. He was all about balance and disliked ending up with the scales tipping in someone else's favor.

"And you have this cloak here?" Axel was now sitting forward in his chair. All pretense of nonchalance had been wiped away by increments as Gideon's story progressed.

"It is safe," Aeddon answered shortly. The witch was not happy with Gideon's dissertation.

Shooting the blond man a look out of the corner of his eye, Gideon continued. "You've heard our story." His focus returned to Moreau. "Time to pay up."

Sucking in a breath, Axel held it as he sat back in his chair. Several heartbeats passed before he gave a single nod, then blew it out. "You're correct," he told Gideon.

Giving a slight nod, Gideon acknowledged the statement. He hoped Axel didn't feel cheated. The shaman would be especially dangerous were that the case. You wouldn't see revenge coming until it was too late to make amends.

"Ever hear of the Navajo skinwalkers?" Axel probed.

"Yes," Aeddon answered. At Gideon's raised brow, the male witch explained further. "In Navajo culture, they are witches," the last word was layered with much disgust, "who are pure evil. They're said to have the ability to turn into animals by locking eyes with them and possessing them. It can be people they possess as well," Aeddon finished, staring at Axel.

A small smile lifted the corners of the shaman's lips. "Clever witch," Moreau murmured. Then for Gideon's benefit, Axel extrapolated. "As the witch has surmised, there is always a basis for such beliefs. Demon-possessed shaman are their skinwalkers. But it is the man who locks eyes, if you will, with evil and lets the demon in. They steal and trap the animal's souls by ritualistically killing them. Then they store it in that cape for future use."

No wonder the vile cape put everyone who came near it on edge. You could feel the evil coming off it as if it were a living thing. Gideon fought the shiver that wanted to make its way up his spine.

"One more thing," Aeddon interjected before the meeting could come to an end. Gideon held his breath. The witch better not mess up this meeting with demands Axel was unwilling to fulfill.

Intense, blue eyes zeroed in on the witch. After a moment, Moreau's dark features eased. "Proceed," he intoned.

"Can we track the demon using the cape?"

Pursing his lips, Axel considered the question for a moment. "Not as far as I know," he began. Aeddon cursed, causing the shaman to smile. "But I might know someone who can answer that question."

"What will setting up a meeting with this individual cost?" Gideon cut in before Aeddon could unwisely agree. The witch shot him a look that spoke volumes. Mostly it said, "I'm not as stupid as you seem to think."

"You'd have to owe me," came Axel's cagey answer. Gideon knew the shaman meant him. He was to pay off the balance at some future date, be indebted to Moreau.

Gideon hesitated. It was a massive debt to have hang over one's head. Axel was good about collecting in the most unusual ways and at the most inopportune times. After much thought, he slowly replied, "Very well."

A wide smile split Axel's features. The bastard knew he'd come out ahead. "Give me a few days to set something up."

Meeting over, Gideon and Aeddon started to leave. At the doorway, Gideon turned back. He had to play this right. Otherwise, Moreau would get a whiff of his interest in the human DJ. Then, Remi would be placed in more danger than she already was. "I see you are setting up for a party tonight. Can anyone come?"

The shaman studied him for a moment, likely trying to figure out why Gideon was angling for an invitation. Finally, his lips tilted upward in a smile that didn't reach his bottle-blue eyes. "You're more than welcome to join. It's a masquerade."

Gideon wasn't fooled. The shaman had only extended the invitation to see where his interest in the affair lay. He'd have to socialize while he kept an eye on Remi.

Moreau didn't do anything without a self-serving reason. The shaman's interest in Remi was more than a little alarming. She'd saved Gideon all those months ago, and now it was time for him to return the favor.

"I hate masquerades," Aeddon groused beside Gideon as they made their way out of the warren of tunnels. "Sorry, but I'm not going to play your wingman tonight."

Likely for the best, Gideon thought. Even though everyone was going in disguise, with their enhanced senses, they'd find out identities well before the unmasking at midnight. To discover a witch - the most reviled of all the races - in their midst, wouldn't go over well with the other partygoers.

As they left La Vie d'Paris, Gideon's mind turned to his most immediate problem. Where was he to find a mask and domino on such short notice?

I hope you liked this chapter. If you want to point out mistakes or want to leave a comment, I'd appreciate that! Also, if you enjoyed reading this chapter, please consider voting for it. Thank you!