A half hour later she was squeaky clean with her hair pulled into a fresh braid and wearing fresh clothes. She dumped her old stuff in the trash, except for the coat that she pulled back on despite the heat. It was heavily spelled to prevent her accidentally absorbing any unwelcomed magic from items she might brush against. It’d had happened more than once in the past, overwhelming her with an influx of power she didn’t understand and wasn’t prepared to use.
Allowing herself one more muffin, she brushed off the crumbs and headed out of the building. As much as she’d loved to stay and clean out Maya’s sweet inventory, she finally had a lead to follow.
If she believed Azh—and that was still a big if—then it was possible that she’d absorbed the magic of a dragon. More specifically, the magic from Gabriela. She still had no idea where or when it’d happened, but if there were dragon artifacts out there, then someone had to know about them.
They were too rare and too precious not to have attracted the attention of the most exclusive collectors. Which meant that the black market brokers would be buzzing with interest.
One broker in particular.
Strolling through the dark streets, Wynn took the train into Manhattan. Then, avoiding the crowds that flocked to Times Square, she took the side streets to Lenox Hill. The elegant shop she was searching for was in a cream building sandwiched between a high-end boutique and a cigar bar. As she neared, she could make out the gold lettering on the glass door:
Hamilton Brothers Gallery
The lights inside were dim, but Wynn wasn’t worried that the place was closed. Unlike the more famous auction houses in the area, this shopcatered to the demons and vampires spread throughout the world. A few came to browse through the glass display cases filled with rare crystals and ancient artifacts, but the large majority were interested in the quarterly auctions held in the private rooms hidden beneath the shop.
It was there that the finest, most exclusive objects of magic were sold to the highest bidder. Items that moved through the black market and were usually outlawed by the Cabal.
Pushing open the door, she stepped into the shop, a welcome wave of cool air washing over her. It was well past midnight but the air in the city was still hot and thick enough to make her uncomfortable.
Releasing a sigh of relief, Wynn swept her gaze over the low, steel-and-glass display cases that shimmered with layers of protective spells. Next to the cases were soft leather seats for those who wanted to spend some time with the various objects before forking over the enormous price tag. Overhead, an expensive chandelier spilled out a soft light, while classical music played in the background.
Everything about the place screamed money. A hushed, exclusive atmosphere that was only for the very rich. Wynn felt a pang of regret. This was the sort of place that she’d become accustomed to patronizing. High class. Sophisticated. After years of begging on the streets for every scrap, she’d fought and clawed her way to the top.
It was utterly unfair she was once again scrambling for a living.
Squashing her futile burst of self-pity, Wynn at last spotted the male she’d come to find at the back of the gallery.
Albert Hamilton looked like a traditional English gentleman. He was short and stocky with thinning silver hair that was meticulously brushed to cover his bald spots. He was dressed in a tailored suit with a white shirt and conservative gray tie. It wasn’t until he rose from behind the antique rolltop desk that she could see the glint of ruby cufflinks that matched the deep red aura pulsing around him.
“Wynn. This is a pleasure.” Striding across the thick silver carpet that matched the wallpaper, Albert grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I heard you were in town. I’m so pleased you stopped by.”
Wynn pulled her hand free. This male might possess the polished veneer of a gentleman, but his heart was pure demon. He was cunning and ruthlessly immoral. There were rumors that he had a goon squad spread around the world to track down rare artifacts, using intimidation or violence to get his hands on the item. He used those same goonsto shut down any demon stupid enough to try to open a gallery in New York. He didn’t seem to mind the black market dealers who sold cheap knockoffs, but he wasn’t going to allow any direct competition.
“How did you hear I was in town?” she demanded. Then she gave a sharp shake of her head. “Hexx,” she muttered, answering her own question. “That demon needs to keep his mouth shut.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Albert drawled. “If he wasn’t willing to gossip, he’d never get any free drinks. Poor soul.”
“I’ll deal with him later.”
“Come. Sit down.” Albert motioned toward a nearby leather chair, waiting for Wynn to grudgingly perch on the edge of the cushion before lifting his hand toward an armed guard who was hidden in the shadows. “Tea? Or perhaps something a bit stronger?”
“No thanks.”
With a shrug, Albert moved to elegantly sink into the chair angled to face her, smoothing his hand down his silk tie.
“So, Hexx mentioned you were in the city for something... How did he say it?” He pretended to consider his words. “A big score?”
Wynn swallowed a curse. She was going to wring Hexx’s skinny neck. She might as well have announced her plans on a billboard in Times Square.
“It fell through.”
Albert studied her for a long moment, his expression impossible to read. “Unfortunate.”
“It happens.”
“True. But you must have found something.” A faint smile curved his lips. “As much as I’d like to think it’s my charming personality that draws you to my humble gallery, I assume you have a prize you hope to sell.”
She glanced toward the chandelier hanging overhead. “Hardly humble.”
