Shade rolled his eyes again. “I don’t want her liver. I just want access to the m-generator.” He paused. “Or its blueprints. Either one.”
Petra only vaguely understood what he was talking about. A week or so prior, the media had been set aflame by the news that there’d been a breakthrough in the field of m-energy — the study of magic and its use as a clean energy source.
People had been trying to figure out a way to capture magic from the atmosphere for at least a thousand years, so it was big news when an unknown witch announced that she and her research partner — another Goode,surprise, surprise— had solved the problem with a state-of-the-art generator.
There’d been some hubbub about the EVP volunteering to completely fund the first prototype right there in San Francisco, as it was a city that had historically suffered due to the destructive nature of atmospheric magic. At that point, Petra had stopped paying attention.
Even so, she knew enough to understand that there was no way on Burden’s green Earth she would be able to get Shade anywherenearthat prototype.
“I can’t do that,” she sighed, more exhausted with every second that passed. “I really can’t. Even if I wouldeverput Margot in the same room as you, it still wouldn’t work. That generator will be the single most intensely guarded thing on the entire continent.”
Although Margot might be a close second.She shuddered to imagine what the sovereign would do if he found out she’d allowed a man like Shade anywhere near her. She had a teeny-tiny soft spot for elves, but that didn’t mean she was stupid. The sovereign could pop her head off her shoulders as easily as a kid’s fist crushes a to-go yogurt.
Shade made a sucking sound with his teeth. “Ah, it was worth a try. Good thing I want something else, then.”
Pushing back on the pool table, he stood up straight and closed the distance between them. Shadows crawled up his legs, too, but they didn’t stop at his waist. Instead, the tendrils slithered up his arms and around his chest to consume his whole body up to the neck. There they stayed, moving restlessly along the base of his throat, as if they had a mind of their own.
“Tell me your name.” This time there was no playful note in his drawl.
“Why? You know it.”
He blinked slowly, once, but his expression didn’t change. He was very still. “I want you to give it to me.”
She could only stare at him. This meant something. The entire conversation had been an assessment of her, and now she felt like she was being tested on a subject she didn’t even know if she’d studied.
“Petra,” she rasped, at a loss. “My name is Petra.”
And there was that slow, violent smile again. Her heart beat faster at the sight of it. She couldn’t tell if her body wanted her to run away from it or, for reasons she couldn’t possibly comprehend, runtowardit.
The shadows curled around her right hand. She watched, disconcerted, as they lifted it up just in time to accept his nearly empty drink.
Using two fingers, Shade guided the glass to her mouth. It rested there, cool and wet from his lips, when he murmured, “There’s a good girl. Now drink.”
For the life of her, Petra couldn’t understand why she did it, but she did.
There was hardly any alcohol left. It was the aftertaste of whiskey that touched her tongue, carried by a sip of cool water. Whiskey and something like… him.
Shade’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, the look in his eyes completely inscrutable, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped around her. Had she passed the test or failed?
She had no idea, but something told her he’dwon.
The shadows followed him, drawn like the ends of a cloak toward his body and away from her in a slow, steady drag. Something deep and neglected in her stirred at the sensation even as her arm, bereft of his support, fell limp by her side. The cool glass dangled from numb fingers.
“You’re leaving?” she croaked.
“Sure am.” He passed her. On his way, he pulled one hand out of his pocket to flick her hair off her shoulder.
Petra whirled around. “But you didn’t say what you wanted?”
He gave her a pitying look, like he thought she was a little slow on the uptake. “Didn’t I?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Hm.” He kept walking. Shadows pulled away from the walls, the table, the floor. Like miles of black gossamer, they folded and draped and slithered back to him.
Petra watched with wide eyes. She’d met demons before, but never one who could manipulate shadows likethat.
“Wait,” she gasped, lunging for his arm. “Are you going to help me or not?”
