I gave him a flat look. Yes. I get it. I’m practically an infant compared to all the heavy hitters around me. No need to keep reminding me. It’s shoved in my face every time something new happens, and I’m the only one surprised.
“I had a feeling I’d be seeing you again,” Miriam’s crisp voice said from behind me.
I spun to see her watching us with cautiously amused eyes. She was dressed casually in lounge pants and a loose, long, white shirt. The kind that draped nicely and was super comfortable but looked effortlessly classy at the same time.
“Really? Because I had no idea I’d end up here again,” I said.
She smiled. “Let’s go in and you can tell me what spell you need cast.” She moved past me, saying over her shoulder, “I’m surprised you triggered my wards.”
Peter tried to grab my arm as I followed her. I brushed him off and said, “I didn’t. The sorcerer did.”
She paused in the act of swinging open the door. Power gathered around her, kind of like a knight readying his shield. It wasn’t visible, more like an intangible shimmering in the air around her.
Her eyes were lit with a dark flame as she glared over my shoulder at Peter. He stepped behind me, using me as a shield.
Once again, I felt like I’d missed something obvious.
“Sorcerer.”
Her voice slithered and swam through the night. I got the sense of something pressing hard on my chest, drowning me even as I drew in air in small, little pants. What was it with everyone pulling power trips at the drop of the hat?
“I wish you hadn’t told her that,” Peter said from behind me.
“If you’d told me that you two had a history, I wouldn’t have.”
“We don’t have a history. Witches hate sorcerers. Don’t you know anything?”
I rolled my eyes. Cowering like a child behind me and he still managed to act like a tool.
“Nope. I don’t know anything. Nothing at all. I thought we’d established that by now,” I snapped.
“You’re Barret’s forever young apprentice,” Miriam said, her power easing back.
“Apprentice?” I asked raising my eyebrows and turning to face him. “I thought you were a sorcerer.”
“I am a sorcerer,” he retorted. “I achieved the station right before.”
He stopped abruptly, his eyes shifting left and right.
“Where is Barret?” Miriam asked, picking up on his tension. “The city has felt different for quite some time now, but his businesses are still operating as they have in the past.”
Peter lifted his chin. “He’s gone, and he left me in charge until he got back.”
She arched one eyebrow. “Really?”
I watched the two of them, trying to read the undercurrents. Sounded like this Barret guy had disappeared and the apprentice had been covering for him for a while now. Miriam’s words also confirmed Peter was older than he looked. I wondered how much older. Five years? Fifty? A hundred? How long did it take to become a sorcerer? So many questions and not a one to do with the reason we were here.
“As interesting as this conversation is, it’s not why we’re here,” I interrupted before Peter could fire off the insult I could see brewing. “We need your help.”
“You mean you need her help,” Peter said. “I told you I was more than capable of doing the spell.”
“And I told you I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”
Miriam watched our byplay with an assessing gaze. “He’s the sorcerer who owns your mark.”
We both shut up, sharing a look before watching her warily. I knew why I was suspicious of her having that information, but why was he. I would have thought he would puff out his chest and claim credit immediately.
“Don’t bother denying it,” she said, her lips parting in a knowing smile. “I knew that tattoo was familiar. It has a similar style and signature as his master.” To Peter, she said, “Do you understand the risk you took in marking her? These things have a way of backfiring. It’s why they’re so rarely used.”
