Fi turns to Dezi, her voice steadier now. “The crap from this morning? Louie scrubbed most of it away, by the way. Rev says it already looks better online. How he can tell, I don’t fucking know.”
“You can always count on Louie to excel when he feels like it,” Dezi murmurs with a pleased smile, the dark cloud of earlier seeming to lift. “What kind of trouble are we brewing for the rest of the day?”
Revelin glances at his watch, a sigh escaping him. “Fitting for me. Can’t be fashionably late to my charity dinner party tonight.” His tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of stress that doesn’t escape me.
“Tiernan should go with you,” Khol suggests, looking at me. “Just in case.”
“Right,” I agree.
It’s not a bad idea to have backup, especially with how edgy things have been.
“Meanwhile,” Khol continues, “we’ll take our resident bloodsucker here to dig for some clues about the forest legend around town.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Revelin says with a grin. “Just no more bailing anyone out today, okay?” He’s joking, but there’s a plea hidden in his jest.
Fi just offers a noncommittal shrug, her lips twisted into a half-smile. “I’m not making promises on that front.”
No surprise there.
The decrepit buildings loom over us as we venture deeper into the side of Arrowwood locals whisper about with a mix of fear and disdain. The shadows cling to the cracked walls, and I can feel the weight of unseen eyes tracking our progress. I keep my fingers laced with Khol’s, trying not to flinch at the public display that’s more his style than mine. His smug grin tells me he knows exactly how out of my element I am, yet somehow, the challenge of it sparks a thrill inside me.
“Where did you hear about this place again?” I ask Dezi, hoping to distract myself from the unsettling surroundings and the unfamiliar warmth of Khol’s hand in mine.
Dezi’s response is cloaked in mystery, as usual. “Oh, you know, magic shops and bar talk,” he says, his voice a smooth, nonchalant drawl.
Damn him.
I growl, frustrated by his evasiveness. “You can’t just keep everything to yourself,” I snap. “We’re supposed to be in this together.”
He finally relents, his shoulders easing back as if letting go of a burden. “The artisan who crafted your cuffs mentioned a thieves’ guild,” he admits. “And the bartender from the other night seemed to think they might know something about the disappearances around the forest.”
“Maybe it’s bandits and thieves picking off lone wanderers,” I muse aloud, considering the possibility. “They might not have any interest in the artifacts or the Court.” It makes sense, more than I care to admit. I glance at both of them, their expressions a blend of surprise and wariness. I shrug off their looks. “I don’t need to argue every point, especially when you guys might be right.”
Dezi’s lips curve into a smile, a rare sight that somehow ignites a warm flush across my cheeks.Damn him for affecting me like this.I scold myself silently, my inner voice harsh and unforgiving. If I turn into some simpering fluff ball because of a vampire’s smile, I swear I’ll kick my own ass.
Khol’s sudden halt wrenches me from my thoughts, his grip on my hand loosening as he scans the street with those unnerving slitted eyes. The air around us bristles with tension, and I catch my breath, waiting for him to reveal what lurks unseen.
What does he sense we don’t?
“Here,” Khol hisses, flicking his tongue into the cool night air. His head jerks toward a narrow alleyway shrouded in shadows, a silent command that brooks no argument. Dezi gives a nod, trusting Khol’s heightened senses implicitly. Basilisks might lack the predatory prowess of other shifters, but with sniffing out danger or malice, they’re unmatched.
I release his hand as we move. He slips through the darkness like a whisper, a creature born of stealth and secrecy. We reach a stairwell leading down to a door so seamlessly set into the wall it might as well be part of the stone itself. My mate studies it for a moment, his movements unnervingly reptilian as he examines it.
“Magic,” Khol murmurs, tracing the arch with an expert touch. His eyes meet mine, a silent invitation to do what I do best—or at least, what I’m supposed to be good at.
Here’s hoping it fucking works.
Drawing in a deep breath, I descend the steps, the weight of expectation settling onto my shoulders. My hands are steady, but inside, there’s a quiver of doubt; my magic is a wild thing, untamed and unpredictable.
“Aperta portas tenebris clausas,” I mutter under my breath, the Latin incantation rolling off my tongue as I press my palm flat against the cold stone. A shiver runs up my arm, and I close my eyes, willing my power to respond.
Luckily, the reaction is immediate and intense. A violet aura flares around me, another magic meeting my own with a force that snatches the breath from my lungs. It fades quickly to an inky blackness, and I stagger back, shaking out my stinging hand.
“Dark magic,” I gasp, my pulse racing as much from the thrill of success as from fear. “It’s... strong, maybe a blend of several species.” The implications hang heavy between us; this isn’t a simple enchantment.
Could this be where we find clues for the artifact?
Dezi’s gaze is clouded with concern. “Witchling, if it’s too dangerous?—”
