Fiona leans over the table and holds the ring over a decorative silver tray at the center. “Don’t let it touch you. It burned Reagan when she accidentally came across it in her father’s secret safe.”
When she drops it, the ring hits the silver tray and revolves on its edge with a hollow metallic sound before settling on its side. Every dragon in the room, including me, draws in a sharp breath and scoots his chair back. Being this close is like standing beside an electric fence. You don’t have to touch it to hear and feel the static buzz that threatens to zap you. If that ring could grow legs, it would hunt me. I know it in my bones.
“I don’t think you have to worry about anyone touching that thing, Fiona,” I say softly. “There isn’t a dragon here whose skin isn’t prickling right now.” As if to prove my point, Remus tips his chair back again and stays that way, trying to put even more room between himself and the ring. Ellison is uncharacteristically fidgety. Lucas’s movie-star smile is no longer in the room with us, replaced by a tight-lipped sneer and narrowed blue eyes that fixate on the ring.
Connor, who is now standing protectively next to Fiona, clears his throat. “This is the first time we’ve had access to this magic. Even before the accord, when we were at war, dragons never kept the rings for study or experimentation.”
“Why not?” Lucas asks. I was wondering the same thing.
“As far as I know, from my ancestors, Order members were always very careful to protect their rings and destroy or reuse them when a member died, but also, there was the fear that the rings could be tracked and lead the Order straight to us. That hypothesis has officially been tested with this specimen and proven false. They came looking but didn’t find it.”
“So this is our first real shot at understanding this thing,” I say in wonder.
Connor nods. “Never in the history of our kind have we succeeded in obtaining an Order ring. With it comes the unprecedented opportunity to learn how it works and how we can defend ourselves against it.”
I scoff. “Only problem is that none of us can even touch it. How exactly do you expect us to Mr. Science this thing?”
“Mr. Magic.” Conner corrects me. “All reports suggest these things are cursed with a dark enchantment. And there’s something else. Something we haven’t shown you yet.”
Fiona digs in her leather bag and retrieves a vial that, even in the brightly lit room, seems to glow in her hand. When she takes off the lid, I smell sunlight and honey. The other dragons must smell it too because Ellison leans closer to her and whispers, “What is that?”
Fashioned onto the underside of the lid is an eyedropper. Fiona draws up some of the liquid and holds the dropper over the tray. She releases a single drop that lands on the ring. The thing jumps onto its side, spinning like a top. The metal must get hot because the liquid sizzles then steams off in a puff of white smoke. Dry again, it falls onto its side, revolving in tighter and tighter circles until it comes to a full stop.
“What the fuck was that?” Seb asks.
“We don’t know,” Fiona says, returning to Connor’s side. “When my sister died, she left me a sliver of property that includes a chapel and a well. This water came from that property. We knew the Saint’s Order had been trying to gain ownership of the land but didn’t know why until now. The water has properties we don’t understand. Properties that seem to be in opposition to whatever makes that ring poisonous to all of you.”
Connor brushes one eyebrow with the back of his nails. “No dragon can understand the magic of the ring or the water. We need a witch.”
Remus and I exchange glances. We both know the witch he means, but she’s not the answer. “If I could find the witch you’re referring to—and that’s a big if—I doubt she could or would help us.”
“We talked about this, Seb. You are in the best position to convince her.”
“You mean manipulate her.” The witch in question is Zoe Willow, lead singer of Raven’s Wish. Connor wants me to hold out a record contract like a carrot on a stick. It’s unconscionable.
“Hey, witches are rare and highly secretive. We’re lucky even to know of one, let alone have an in with her.”
I shift in my chair. “I don’t have an in with her, okay? Actually, my label rejected her and her band a little over a year ago.”
Connor growls. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“I didn’t know. It was my partner’s call. Apparently, Zoe Willow showed up at an audition a strung-out mess. She’s a drug addict. Ruined her music career. Since then, she’s fallen off the map.”
Remus scratches his stubbled jaw. “She wasn’t high when I did her tattoo. I won’t work on anyone under the influence.”
“How long ago was that?” Ellison asks like a detective trying to run down a timeline. Damn it, once that dog gets hold of a bone, he won’t let it go easily.
“A few months. Maybe five or six. Venomous Ink is a busy shop. I only remember her because I usually project a little on to my clients to dampen the pain of the needle. She was mentally strong enough to push me out of her head.”
I raise a hand. “Well, there you go. Remus can contact her and see if she’ll help us. He, at least, has seen her in the flesh. I only know of her. We’ve never even been in the same room.”
“Remus doesn’t have what she wants. You, presumably, do,” Connor says.
Ignoring Connor, I stare across the table at the tattooed brother. “Remus? Any way you could give it a go first? I don’t even know where to start looking for her.”
Remus shakes his head. “My contract protects my customer’s privacy. Unless they owe me money, I don’t keep their personal information. You have as much of a chance at finding her as I do.”
“Fuck.” I glance around the room, my gaze catching on Lucas. “Zoe Willow can’t be the only witch we know. What about you? You must have worked with a few witchy actresses in your day?”
