Jackson shot me a look, the kind that said, “He’s lost it, hasn’t he? Completely gone around the bend.” I opened my mouth to agree but hesitated when the ward the warlock had placed on my throat yesterday seemed to heat with remembrance. I’d been spooked enough then to want to haul Jade over my shoulder and lock her away somewhere safe. I had believed there was a danger then, and hadn’t I sensed it in the woods—then, and now?
Then Chardum spoke, his voice rumbling like gravel, like ancient stone and primordial power. “That name…” The dragon frowned, his gold irises narrowing. “I have heard it before. I believe that might be what the creature in the prison I once helped guard was called—the prison I was tasked to protect with Rosemary’s father.”
Silence rippled through the group, it was the kind of silence that was heavy, cold. It swept like a wave of dread over those of us remaining, the ones who had lingered just long enough because they hadn’t quite believed the search—the danger—was truly over. Chardum, Jackson, and I...
Thorne muttered something triumphant under his breath that sounded very much like, “I knew it, I knew it,” while Jackson swore softly. For the first time, with the shadows still clinging to my boots and the taste of wrongness thick in the night air, I believed him—not just a little, and not just that there was some kind of danger, but that he was right. This really was about a threat called the Galamut: a threat so dangerous, so ancient, that our ancestors had stopped speaking of it.
Everyone went home on a grim note, but I felt a new sense of purpose. I’d found one book that referenced this thing and handed it to Thorne. I’d dig up more information, that’s what Iwas good at. The first stop would have to be the one remaining representative of Sunworld Corporation: Kiran. They had sent him here once, part of the group trying to free the thing from Chardum’s prison. So perhaps he knew.
Chapter 20
Jade
I woke slowly, deliciously, the way you do after the kind of night that should probably come with a warning label. Silk sheets brushed my skin when I stretched, every languid movement pulling a pleased little hum from my throat. My body felt… well, like it had been extremely well cared for. Thoroughly. Repeatedly. In ways I definitely planned on experiencing again.
The scent on the sheets—clean, dark, cool like winter smoke—was unmistakably Luther. It was there but faint, and growing fainter because Luther himself was not here. Figures, I thought, rolling onto my back. Typical. Man vanishes after mind-melting night of passion. Not that I was usually at his place when that happened. Usually, it was a hotel… or my place… or sometimes nowhere at all, because I’d left first.
It stung more than I cared to admit, as if I had fully expected this to be different. I refused, absolutely refused, to let that ruin the remarkable way I felt. My muscles were loose, warm, and happily used. My pulse did a little flutter when I remembered exactly how he’d made me feel.
I stretched again, arms over my head, sheets slipping scandalously low, and then I spotted it. A piece of thick cream stationery rested on the pillow beside me, elegant handwriting flourished across it. Next to that sat a white box tied with a scarlet satin ribbon, like the world’s classiest bribe. So he’d left, but not without thinking about me, that was sweet, andsomehow… very Luther. I had a feeling he always took care of everything, down to the smallest detail.
You should open it,Belfry announced cheerfully inside my mind. I yelped, clutching at the sheet and hastily yanking it back up over my naked chest. When had he gotten here? How much had he seen? It wasn’t like I’d stretched trying to be scandalous, but it certainly hadn’t been fit for any ears or eyes other than my own, and perhaps Luther’s.
“Good morning to you too!” I squeaked out, indignant, while I tried to search for him. The room was dark, the curtains thick and still fully drawn, though hints of light peeked around the edges. That light had been enough for me to see a big square white box and a folded note in, but it wasn’t enough to spot one tiny black bat.
The bat in question fluttered down from a beam near the ceiling, his small vest immaculate, gold chain gleaming, and smugness radiating off him like heat. I reached for the nearest curtain and flicked it open a bit so I could see better. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was wearing a different red vest from yesterday. That one had had a little stripe through it, while this one held a faint golden pattern of flowers. Very distinguished. The bat had a better wardrobe than I did.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,he said telepathically, though the smug puff of his chest indicated he absolutely meant to.Luther left you a gift. A very lovely gift, I might add, and a note. The note is important.He fluttered a little closer, landing on the pillow beside the box and tapped the edge of the scarlet ribbon with the thumb claw on his wing.
I exhaled, trying to gather my dignity. “Good morning, Belfry. How… was your night?” What did you even ask a bat? What counted as small talk for him? I really hoped he wouldn’t tell me what he’d had for dinner; I was certain it was going to be as yucky as the way he’d crunched on moths inside the library yesterday.
Oh, you know, this and that. I flew around. Did some matchmaking. Observed certain activities strictly for scientific accuracy.He adjusted his vest primly.It was a very productive evening.Did he just say what I thought he said? Observed certain activities? I really hoped that didn’t mean he’d been hanging around in the shadows while Luther made mind-blowing, amazing love to me.
“Oh God,” I couldn’t help but moan, heat crawling up my spine and rushing through my face. It was so strong—that sudden blush—that I couldn’t help but wonder what Maggie would say. She’d call me a prude; I was pretty sure about that. It wasn’t like a bat would care about human reproductive interactions, was it? Nope, that didn’t make me stop blushing, but perhaps that was simply because recalling last night’s orgasms made heat spiral through my body all over again. I clenched my thighs tightly together and scrambled to recall whether bats had well-developed olfactory capabilities or not.
Open the note!he insisted, with such eager excitement that it was beginning to catch on. Anything to distract me from the disconcerting way my body responded to the memories of last night. I was out of control and dangerously eager for Luther to come back for a repeat performance.
Instead, I sat up, sheet curled tightly under my arms, and picked up the note. The paper was thick and expensive, the kind of stationery you only used if you wanted to make an impression, and that impression said you had money. His handwriting was as stupidly beautiful as I expected, each letter perfectly shaped, like he’d taken lessons at some aristocratic finishing school centuries ago. Ah, perhaps he had, I thought, and then nearly giggled hysterically, because that thought was crazy—but it could very well be true.
My Jade,
An urgent matter required my attention. Make yourself at home. Please wear the gift I’ve chosen for you. I am eager to see you in it, and even more eager to take it off you again.
Yours, with love,
Luther
My breath caught. This wasn’t a man sneaking out after he got what he wanted. This was… something else. Something that made my cheeks burn and my stomach flutter in a very un-librarian way. My ex never wrote me notes like that, and he definitely didn’t buy me what had to be lingerie. The question was, where had Luther gotten a gift in the middle of the night? Did he just have these lying about in case he had to make a hasty retreat? I hated that I felt so suspicious of what probably was meant to be a nice gesture.
Go on,Belfry urged.Open the box next.He was hovering, not literally, but clinging to the pillow beside the box and peering anxiously at me. As far as a bat could look anxious,he certainly made an impression, his ears flattened, drooping almost. Something twinkled in his eyes that made me think he was as excited as he was anxious to see what was inside the box. Perhaps he didn’t know. Curiosity killed the bat, or something?
“You’re very pushy for someone who weighs four ounces,” I told him, but my hand went to touch the shiny white surface, my pinky brushing the silk of the scarlet ribbon. The cardboard felt expensive, and it wasn’t quite white, but hovered on the edge of cream.
Belfry clambered a bit higher onto the pillow, his wing tapping lightly against the headboard, his red vest and black fur contrasting sharply with the pale sheets.It was very challenging getting it from the package crate to the bed,he sniffed.I nearly sprained a wing. Show some appreciation.
I blinked at the box, then back at Belfry. The box was easily ten times his size. When I lifted it and tested the weight, I had to conclude it wasn’t heavy exactly, but for a tiny bat, it might as well have been a lead weight. “How did you even manage that?” I asked, shocked. Then again, why was I even shocked? The bat talked telepathically, why couldn’t he lift a box from one room to the next and place it on the bed?
He said nothing, but he preened a little, smug, the same way Luther could be smug. It was very suspicious. Maybe Belfry hadn’t carried the box at all; he was just taking the credit. Or maybe he had, but this was one of those magical secrets I wasn’t invited to know. I loved mysteries, but I hated being unable to unravel them. I vowed to myself I’d get to the bottom of this later, when I could catch Belfry off guard.
