“Does Patrick ever join you for dinner?” I ask, still marveling that this very successful musician just served me a plate of fish.
“Most of the time,” Seb says. “He just has other plans tonight.”
I look between them both. “Speaking of plans, what is this mystery mission you two are going on tonight? You’ve mentioned it twice now, and every time I ask about it, you change the subject.”
Seb glances at Remus and takes a long sip of wine. “We are going ring collecting, in hopes of reducing the threat to our kind.”
“Ring collecting?” I’m not sure what he’s talking about at first, and then it hits me. I lean back in my chair, suddenly feeling ill. “You—you’re going after more of those enchanted weapons? Are you for real? I’ve seen that thing up close. You don’t want to be anywhere near one.”
He frowns. “It’s not a matter of want. It’s a matter of necessity. We have to start culling their numbers. We’re in hiding now, but we can’t stay that way forever.”
My stomach clenches, anxiety gripping me for reasons I don’t understand. “So, what, you’re going to hunt one of these Order members down and kill them before they can kill you?”
Seb darts a glance at Remus. “We’re going to try to cut the ring off. We’d prefer not to kill anyone, just lower the number who can hurt us, until we have another option.”
“Until I figure out a way to somehow neutralize the ring’s power, you have to remove the rings physically or kill the men who wield them, is that what you’re saying?”
He nods. I rest my head in my hands. “I should go back in tonight. You don’t have time for me to do this on a schedule.”
Seb reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’re not going back in tonight. Go to bed early. Heal. Get stronger. We’ll try again in a day or two.”
I get the sense that’s an order and nonnegotiable. Probably wise.
We finish our dinner in relative silence, and then they both stand from the table. Remus mutters his goodbyes and disappears, but Seb lingers, collecting the dirty dishes. Patrick must have left for his event.
“Is your cabin comfortable? Did Patrick get you everything you needed?” he asks.
“Yeah. All stocked up.” I follow him to the kitchen, where he places the plates in the dishwasher. “I don’t want you to go tonight. That ring, it gave me the creeps.”
He takes my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “This is what a zodiac dragon does, Zoe. We’re warriors first, and we’re going to fight to protect our people. But I’m flattered you care.”
I don’t know what to say. I just fold my arms and shake my head.
“Feel free to stay in the main house for as long as you like. There’s a home theater in the basement.” He walks past me and heads for his bedroom. And I’m left wondering why I have the strongest desire to throw myself in front of the door and refuse to let him leave.
Chapter Twenty
SEB
One perk of being a zodiac dragon is the ability to fold space. When we reach adulthood, our parents and the Oracle present us with a key that allows us to travel from place to place as easily as stepping from room to room. It also opens the portal to Cardinal Island, a realm of safety where we perform our most sacred rituals, train for war, and meet with our spiritual leader, the Oracle. Choosing a target, then, isn’t about geographical constraints. We do it randomly, picking a name from the list Imani provided us and manifesting outside the upstate New York address of Ronald Folman.
“House is dark,” Remus mumbles. Like me, he’s armed to the teeth with concealed weapons, a gun in the hollow of his back, and daggers strapped all over his body.
All the lights are out in the massive home, and my sensitive dragon hearing picks up no signs of life. I have one last trick up my sleeve, though, a talent that will ensure this house is empty. “Could be asleep. I’ll check.”
I reach out psychically, searching for a human mind inside the walls, one I can infiltrate if I need to. Dreamwalking isn’t something I do on a whim, but it’s useful when you’re on a mission. A few minutes into someone’s dreams, and you can learn a lot about them. Maybe more than they know about themselves.
But I don’t find a single head in the house. Not even a wife or servant. The place is completely vacant. “They’re not sleeping. There’s no one in that house.”
Remus does a quick Google search. “He owns a club in the city. Looks like our man is recently divorced too. I’m betting he keeps an apartment in Manhattan for late-night activities.”
I glance at the address and the Street View picture of the club. “The Red Room? Who exactly is this guy?”
“According to his profile, he’s a beauty industry entrepreneur. Looks like he owns a bunch of salons throughout the city. But this is his only club.”
I look over Remus’s shoulder at the photo he brings up of Ron Folman. The man has a scruffy beard and a comb-over. “Has he actually ever visited a salon?”
Remus adjusts his cap. “Let’s go get us a ring.”
