Chapter One
Crilus
Moonscale London
The Apartment Above the Raven’s Perch
“He’s nervous because it’s pitch dark,”my crow said to my wolf.
They weren’t wrong. The air always danced with nervous tension when new clients crept up the back stairs behind the bar to the tiny apartment I used as a workspace. It wasn’t the main apartment where my cousins crashed with me for now but a smaller one off to the side. It was supposed to be for storage, but I found other uses for it once I realized it was the perfect spot to host clients. It wasn’t visible from the street, providing the perfect hideaway for when I needed to partake in magic that wasn’t completely above board. The same sorts of magic that my sire spat nails about me practicing. What’s a few hexes here and there? It was in my very elven blood because of him. It wasn’t like I was enslaving a whole pack of wolves for the sake of a tyrant or to get revenge. So, what if I hexed a few exes, cast a few revenge spells, and gave a few shifters a short-term case of magical mange?
“Don’t think so hard about Dad. He’ll start paying attention,”my crow warned me.
The birdbrain was right. He wasn’t a wolf, but he was all over the pack link and the family web seemed to grow stronger every day. I moved across an ocean to find some freedom to explore magic, and I didn’t need him butting in on this client in particular.
“Are you up there or is this some serial killer situation?” the cheetah shifter called out.
“You were given the instructions,” I said and took a long sip of my hot chocolate.
“Uh… Question.”
“Ascend.”
“Why can’t I see? I can see in the dark, dude!” he said, his voice quivering the tiniest bit on the ‘dude.’
“My brand of magic isn’t for the weak of spirit,” I said, blowing the sweet steam away from my mug before savoring another sip.
“Nothing about me is weak. This is just bad customer service. Do people really play along with this?” he asked.
“There is nothing to play along with. You were given instructions when you made your request. Either ascend or go back to your mundane life and stop wasting my time. I don’t have all night because you’re a fraidy cat.”
“Does that work on people?” he asked, taking another step up.
I didn’t answer. Either Jon would figure out how to walk up thirteen steps in the dark or he wouldn’t. His deposit was nonrefundable. So it was no skin off my pointed ears either way. I pulled my feet up under me in the chair and took another long swig of my hot chocolate. The creamy liquid was going cold because Jon the cheetah couldn’t be bothered to hurry it up. For the fastest land mammal, he wasn’t living up to his reputation at all.
A few minutes later, Jon sprinted up the last few steps and squinted at me through the candlelight when he reached the top. His lip snarled making him look even more like the annoyed cat he was.
“So nice of you to finally join me,” I said, pointing to the spot on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. “Sit.”
“Why do I have to sit on the floor?” he asked, opening his mouth to breathe in the scent of the room.
He crinkled his nose and shook his head. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Big cats seldom loved the scents that went along with my brand of magic.
“Sit,” I said again. “Look, you’re the one who needs my help. Either you do what I ask, or you leave empty handed.”
“How do I know for sure that you can even get the job done?” he asked, running his hands through midnight black hair before lowering himself onto the floor.
“You don’t,” I met his gaze. “Except you’ve heard what I can do. You’ve heard about the clan my genetics hail from. Meadow Clan Elves have never had a problem using their magic for whatever they wanted.”
“I also heard the Crow King’s forces beat their asses and wiped them off the face of the earth.”
“Not so. My sire survived as did his siblings. They are the Meadow Clan now. So am I. So do you want to flesh out your needs or do you want me to give you whatever I think you need?”
His eyes went big and for a second, I thought he was going to ask me what I thought he needed. He wasn’t brave enough to make that inquiry. Most of my clients weren’t. Instead, Jon leaned back on the heels of his hands and studied me in the candlelight. He had midnight black hair and big cat eyes. He was tall with long limbs and pursed his lips whenever he thought too hard. His eyes shone brightly with my reflection. My hair was down, and I wore the traditional elven robes that I spent two weeks sewing before I opened shop here. The robes had nothing to do with my magic, but they did mean clients were willing to pay more because they believed the robes made me more authentic.
“I need you to make me loyal,” he said.
“Loyalty isn’t a quality magic can bestow. If you lack it in your character, you’d be better off with a therapist than me,” I said, hating to admit the truth because it meant saying goodbye to the other half of his payment.
