“Let’s just get this over with,” Fiadh mutters, but her stride is purposeful, her spine straight as if she’s bracing herself against the weight of the world—or at least the weight of expectations.
I can’t help but admire their resilience.
We pile onto the tour bus, each taking a moment to gather the things we want to send home to our contacts. Once everything is put together, Tiernan puts it all in a pack with instructions handwritten on top.
“As much as I hate to say this, it’s not just about the music tonight,” I remind them as the bus moves, the landscape outside blurring into a mosaic of greens and grays. “Finishing up here is another step toward finding the feystag’s trinkets.”
“But it keeps Revelin in the spotlight where he belongs,” Tiernan adds with a half-smile, though the glint in his eye is all business. “That’s also important.”
I change my mind; my friends are dicks.
“They’d better keep me out of it,” Fiadh says, a hint of steel in her voice. “I want nothing to do with fame or rock star bullshit. I’m only here as moral support—and maybe protection.”
The bus rumbles forward, carrying us toward the event location and whatever surprises await.
It’s out of our control now, so we just have to be ready,
Iblink awake to the gentle hum of the magical bus, a cocoon of warmth and safety. The air is tinged with the scent of incense and engine grease—a strangely comforting blend now that I’m used to it. I stretch, my muscles grateful for the movement after hours of stillness.
I still can’t believe I’ve gotten used to sleeping in apileof men andlikeit.
Padding to the living area, I rub my eyes when I see my basilisk and vampire already up and moving.
“Morning, witchling,” Dezi greets me with his usual smug smile, already up and rifling through our stockpile of ancient lore. Khol sprawls across a nearby seat, his eyes not yet focusing on the waking world.
“You are the oddest vampire I’ve ever met,” I murmur back, voice husky from sleep. “Most of them don’t rise before dusk and you’re moving with the sun most days.”
“I’m old enough that I require very little rest to function, and as long as I keep my intake at optimum levels, I don’t experience any of the annoying side effects of my kind.” He winks at me as he sips his mug of blood and grins a bit. “Other vampires pale in comparison, spellcaster.”
Well, okay then.
Revelin strides past us, guitar case in hand, exuding the pre-performance buzz he gets before melting into themusic with his bandmates. “Catch you all later,” he tosses over his shoulder, a promise rather than a farewell.
Once Revelin’s departure leaves a palpable void, Tiernan’s security detail—a formidable troop of various bulky, serious looking cat shifters with eyes like polished gemstones—exit next. They move with purpose, their confidence reassuring, their tails swishing behind them like synchronized pendulums. Their departure eases an anxious knot in my chest.
With them scouting ahead, we’re in good paws.
I snort at my own mental pun, and Khol arches a brow at me. Waving my hand at him, I walk over to grab one of my energy tonics and plop into a chair at the table with a grunt.
“Alright, let’s dive back into this,” Dezi suggests, tapping the leather-bound tome open on his lap. We gather around the worn pages filled with cryptic text and diagrams cradling secrets of old.
Khol perks up, shaking off the remnants of slumber as his analytical mind kicks into gear. “This symbol here,” he points to a serpentine design, “it’s come up in three different chapters.”
“Could be a clue to the artifact’s location,” I speculate, tracing the curves of the symbol. We huddle closer, piecing together fragments of myth and history, seeking the thread that will lead us forward.
Dezi nods, then moves on to the next item on the list, working his way through every question he has. I don’t know the answer to much of it—I’m quickly finding out the goddamn witch school also lacked in teaching magical history, symbology, and languages pre-Plymouth Rock landing by humans.
Those motherfuckers crippled us to keep us under the High Mage’s thumb and I’m going to get my revenge for it someday.
Hours slip by unnoticed until Dezi stands, stretching out the tension from being hunched over for too long. “Time for a break, children. We should eat lunch, so we have the energy to continue late into theevening.”
I laugh softly, tilting my head. “Mmm. Atatistatement if I’ve ever heard one, old man. You only require sustenance through a straw, so that’s all about Khol and I.”
“There’s only so much ancient wisdom one can absorb on an empty stomach, witchling.” Dezi moves to the compact kitchen area, deftness in his movements as he assembles a light meal. Huge sandwiches appear—they’re meaty monstrosities adorned with crisp lettuce and juicy slices of tomato, and he adds piles of fresh fruit on the side.
“Thanks, mosquito,” Khol says, accepting a plate. “I didn’t realize you were so domestic.”
The vampire shoots him a dirty look, much like the one he gave me after my snarky comment, and sits down with his new mug of blood. “True Renaissance men can do a myriad of things for themselves, but it doesn’t mean wehaveto, snakelet.”
