Lucas growls, “You are trespassing, so unless this has a point?—”
“Trespassing?” Dimitar’s smile takes a lethal edge. “That’s rich coming from you.”
I’m losing my patience. My magic crackles and the books shift uneasily. “Give Jinx back to me, or I swear to all the arachnid gods, magician,” I hiss through my teeth, “I’ll make sure to skin you alive nice and fucking slow if you’ve harmed my familiar.”
Lucas’ hand tightens on my arm, cutting off my blood flow, but I don’t care. All I can see is red, my eyes threatening to flicker with the darkness within me. My skin ripples with the cold power that begs to be used.
The curtain shifts again and Ivan, Dimitar’s second in command, steps through. The burly magician with his silver forearm bracers nods in greeting, the right glinting green with the Transformation Thread and the left humming with power that amplifies the magic. I glare back. His thick mustache twitches, his brows heavy.
Lucas is vibrating with tension, his jaw tightening until his teeth click.
Two ghouls follow and I sneer. Ihateghouls. My shop is going to stink like rotting flesh for days now. The glamour emanating from their gold chains doesn’t work on me. I see past it to behold the creatures in all their horrific glory. Their pupils reflect a white glow, the flesh of their faces slightly drooping. There’s a patchwork of various colors where they’ve carved off chunks of their victims to patch up rotting holes. Dimitar keeps them well supplied; I don’t see any hints of bubbling rot. Though the one on the left should really tighten the stays to get that skin more flush to its skull.
They’re a form of disgusting, bastardized magic that only the Amur would dare wield. If the Archweaver saw them, he’d lose his fucking mind at the abhorrence. Not that the Archweaver has a leg to stand on after what he did to his sister. The ancient texts used to create these creatures were supposedly burned with the priesthood two thousand years ago, but one of their grimoires survived and landed in the first magician’s hands. Leon used his gained knowledge on the corpses of weavers to create his ghouls, and they filled in the ranks of his army during the Revolution, while he worked on crafting more tokens. It’s why properly burning a weaver after they pass to the Tapestry is so important.
My jaw flexes. One day, I’ll return to my father’s home and ensure Viola is put to rest. But first, I need to get Jinx back.
A third ghoul steps out holding a large iron box. Pain forces the breath from my lungs and rage vibrates my bones. “Howdareyou. To even touch—The pain—” My head throbs, my body shaking. I’m going to lose control in a blacked-out rage. The pain of being caged in iron must be something nightmarish for Jinx. “Youmonster. Cruel, disgusting monster.” The floor trembles and my eyes dim. My voice warps. “I’m going to ruin you.”
Dimitar is unfazed, waving a hand as if I’m throwing a tantrum. “We don’t need to make this difficult.” The drooping ghoul pulls out a pair of iron cuffs. “Come along. Your daddy is waiting for you.”
Power crackles along my fingers. My smile turns violent, my eyes cold and black. “I’d like to see you try, Dimitar.”
Valen emerges from the shadows, his boots clicking on each step. His hand brushes along my lower back, steadying me from the violence in my blood. His gaze meets mine and I can practically hear hisCalm the fuck down before you kill us all.
My teeth clench, my hands balling into fists. He’s right, though I’m loath to admit it. I’m more likely to implode and take the whole city with me. That’s not how Jinx is going to get out of the box. I need to calm down and think. Then I’ll skin Dimitar. My back room could use a new rug.
Valen steps before me, partially blocking me from Dimitar and giving me the much-needed privacy to get my shit together.
Valen smiles blandly, his icy eyes glowing. “Come now. There’s no need for that. Surely, we can come to an understanding.”
Dimitar’s eyes brighten with amusement. “Can we?”
Valen shifts his weight to his other foot. “Tell me, Amur. Are you here for the bounty or has Atticus offered something more tempting?”
A fang catches on his tongue. “And you think you could top his offer?”
Valen’s grin takes an edge. “Why, yes. I can.”
Dimitar hums, his head tilting. “Tempting. But there’s only one deal I’ll make, and it’s not with you, weaver.” His yellow eyes land on Lucas and my blood goes cold, smile falling. “Hello, old friend.”
Lucas isn’t breathing and my hand slaps over his. My nails dig into his wrist, but he ignores me and replies coolly, “Dimitar.”
The Amur waves to the shop. “Now, I can pretend that I was never here. Perhaps I didn’t arrive in time. Perhaps the wards never weakened enough for me to slip through.” He gestures to the box. “Maybe the box opens and nothing was caught.”
A grimness shadows Lucas’ face. “What do you want for this generosity?”
“Nothing much. After all, what are friends for if not to be generous with one another? I’ll just take the small fortune that I’d be letting slip through my fingers.” His smile takes an edge. “And you can work off the sum.”
My nails draw blood, my hand shaking. Lucas’ eyes narrow. “And you’ll call off all the bounty hunters? Everyone?”
“Within reason.”
“No. With an absolute. And chase the weavers back to their forest. No one is to bother Astoria, not even a mildly annoying customer. Got it?”
Fear sharpens my voice. “Lucas!”
He doesn’t look at me. “Do that and we have a deal.”
