“Master’s own house was broken into many years ago. And the books were taken. He has been trying to find them ever since.”
“And he tracked them here?” I asked.
The kobold nodded. A long silence fell then, but the threads of Maverick’s blood magic continued to pulse, steady as a heartbeat.
I sighed, using the wall to steady myself as I thought about what in the world I was going to do now. “Well. I guess I’m gonna need to put this new power of mine to use.”
The goddess tingled in my fingertips, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Healing and renewal. That was what I’d gainedfrom the goddess. I was fairly sure I could heal anything or anyone now. With enough time, faith, and elixir.
“I’m pretty sure I can save your master’s life, book or no book.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The house had emptied by the time we regrouped.
The scent of burnt sage and spilled wine hung faintly in the air, mingling with the acrid sting of ozone. Someone had set the kobold, who was named Dirk, on the kitchen counter like a misbehaving cat, and he was now sulking among the coffee mugs, tail twitching irritably.
Olga crouched beside the table, examining the elixir I’d brewed earlier. The liquid shimmered faintly, a soft gleam under the lamplight.
“Ja—it looks good,” Olga murmured, tilting the vial.
Dirk snorted. “It’s beginner’s work.”
Wanda bristled immediately, one hand planting on her hip. “You’ve got some nerve, lizard-boy, mouthing off after you trashed half Poppy’s house.”
I cut in. “He’s right. Itisbeginner’s work, because I’m a beginner. But it’ll do.”
I wiped my hands on my brewing apron, drew in a slow breath, and picked up the phone. My fingers hovered for a moment before I punched in the number Dirk had reluctantly provided.
“Everyone hush,” I said. “Let’s see if our dying alchemist answers his phone.”
The room fell still. I dialed the number with one hand, using the other to scratch Burns under the chin. The fairy dragon was beginning to grow on me. If Smith wasn’t careful, I was going to dragon-nap his cuddly companion and start an inter-city incident.
“Hello? Who is this?” a scratchy voice asked. His voice held a vague German accent, but it was very faded, no doubt owing to all the time he’d spent here, in the States.
“My name is Poppy Morton,” I said evenly, though my annoyance was clear, “But I suspect you knew that already. Which is why you didn’t approach me directly. And that was silly of you. You could have just asked for your books back if they’d been stolen from you. There was no need to send your little minion to wreck my home and terrorize my family.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then Klaus’s voice rang through—sharp and skeptical. “Do you really expect me to believe you’re sincere and that this isn’t some kind of trick?”
I sucked in a frustrated breath. “This isn’t a trick and, yes, I am sincere. I’m also sick and tired of people assuming the worst about each other. I like to think I was given the gift of alchemy to do good for others, not play petty games.”
There was silence on the other line for a second or so. “I am listening.”
“Here’s what I’ll do: I’ll give your kobold back. He is safe and he’s unharmed. I’ll even try as best I can to help you with whatever is killing you.”
“You… know about that?”
“Dirk was forced to tell us. Don’t blame him. In fact, I won’t help you at all if you take any of this out on him. I want your word that you won’t.”
“I will not harm Dirk.”
“Good,” I answered and then paused. “But if you want your books returned, you’re going to have to earn them.”
There was a lengthy pause. If not for the steady rattle of his exhale, I would have thought he’d hung up. “And how exactly do you propose that I earn them?” Klaus asked, doubt dripping from every word.
“You help me brew all the stock Dirk destroyed,” I shot back. Klaus grumbled something unintelligible.
“I would agree save for the fact that I am so sick, I can hardly leave my bed.”
