A half dragon, Gideon had always been resilient, strong, fast, and with natural shields against spells written on his skin, but ever since Kleos shared her energy with him, her cousin was something else entirely.
Cas still won easily. I could tell he was bored. He took it easy on him, moving around a little, evading his attacks. Gideon used to solely rely on his physical strength, like me, but now each hit was accompanied with fiery light. Cas blocked, parried, dodged. And occasionally, he riposted, each of his attacks precise, painful, merciless.
I could tell that he had to make an effort to restrain himself. He would naturally go for the kill. The silver daggers he summoned had blunt edges, but each one hit the mark—heart, gut, throat. If allowed to penetrate the skin, they couldand would have killed the target. Despite wearing reinforced protected gears, his natural shields and the bluntness of the weapon, I could see big bruises forming on Gideon’s skin as the sparring session continued.
Gideon chuckled, delighted. “Where have you been all my life? Damn, I want to fight you every day.”
I shook my head. He was one big bruise and he wanted more.
I should have spent the time training myself but I wasn’t sure what the point was, so instead, I used the treadmill, running as fast as the machine allowed.
Cas was right: I was wasting my time against my usual partners. Gideon might have been a decent adversary if he fought me as seriously as he fought Cas, but he wouldn’t.
I needed magic in order to fight literal gods—Gideon, Cas, even Kleos.
I’d always felt that lack. The unfairness of the fact that I was the only person in the whole of Highvale without a single drop of magic in my veins. And since learning that I was supposed to be a bloody goddess, that feeling of inadequacy had only grown.
I wasn’t Artemis, the virgin huntress who transformed men with a single glare. I sure as fuck wasn’t a bloody virgin, to start with, and my glares didn’t do anything at all.
I would get better, in order to stand toe to toe to my friends, tohim.
I had to.
We managed to stop by the next three names on our list that Wednesday.
Alin Klein offered to let us inspect her bar, which I knew meant we wouldn’t find anything. I thanked her for her assistance and moved on to the next. Henry Baker was more promising, as he ran the moment we introduced ourselves. I caught him in less than three seconds. That sort of achievement would have made me feel good a week ago, but after Cas mentioned that I was a dragon playing against dormice, he’d taken the fun out of it.
It turned out Henry ran because he was selling nexirs, highly regulated concentrated potions meant to increase one’s magic—regulated because it took the blood of living shifters to make it, which was rarely given voluntarily. We brought him to the Guard and let runners handle him, before taking a break for lunch.
The third and last criminal turned out to be the most useful. Sandra Wong, owner of a famed teahouse, received us in a gorgeous office with gold wood, offered us tea that Cas accepted, rice cakes that I munched on, and nodded as we questioned her about recently acquired reserves.
“I’ve purchased fifty such things in the last few days. Top quality. I’ve never seen better wares. I was assured that the crystals were not obtained through force—which is the only thing the law is against,” she said lightly, pushing her long blue hair off her shoulder. “I checked through truth spells to be certain. Was I in the right?”
She was smart. And she served good cakes.
“They were obtained through thievery,” I countered. “That’s just as illegal.”
“I was not made aware of such thing. Thievery is an unfortunate part of life. Why, isn’t half of the contents in the archives, or in museums across the world, obtained by thievery?”
I decided I didn’t want to get into a pointless argument with someone like her. She would be far more useful on my side. Besides, I liked the fact that she’d checked the most important thing: that no one had been harmed, killed, or tortured for the crystals.
“Look, if they’re not what we’re looking for, you can keep the goods you paid for. We just need to know if they’re part of a specific set. Seeing one would be enough.”
“I see. And my lot is part of the set?” the shrewd businesswoman probed, one eyebrow raised.
“We’d have to take it—but the Guard will compensate you fairly for the loss.” I didn’t add that we’d observe her in order to figure out her seller. We both knew that would happen.
“What would the Guard consider fair compensation? I do expect to make a bit of money. Top quality, as I said. My seller didn’t know what it was worth. I can sell them for fifty gold apiece.”
Cas and I exchanged a glance.
“What did you buy it for?”
“Fifty gold for the lot,” she replied easily.
Her seller absolutely knew that they were worth far more. If they sold that cheap, it was because they wanted to distribute it fast.
“We’ll pay ten gold apiece,” Cas offered. “Your alternative is the Guard searching the premises and seizing—well, whatever they can in an establishment such as yours.”
