Sinking into the comfort of cooking could only do so much. After having my fill and leaving the rest of the food up for grabs in the kitchen, I hoped I could steal the privacy I needed.
There was no telling when I’d have another opportunity like this. Probably never.
Far from the guest hall that Delilah had dropped us in, I found my way to the third floor in search of anything that could be of use to me. Even if the spectral plane was out of bounds, some small part of me hoped I had wielded enough magic to be granted a little intuition in the waking world. I needed something to try. Somethingreal.
Tentatively, I pushed on one of the doors and flipped the light switch. A study opened before me: not the vast library I expected but lined with books nonetheless. I strolled past a workbench crowded with jars and bottles, focusing on the nearest shelf. Frowning at the spines, I found they weren’t titled—nothing to mark the difference between casual magic and how to prepare human sacrifices.Figures.
Just as I was reaching for a book, someone cleared their throat in the doorway and made me flinch.
“You have no reason to steal,” Delilah said, smoothing her hair in a way that made me suspect she had padded silently down the hall in her cat form. In any case, she didn’t appear to be limping anymore as she slowly came inside. “I’ll uphold my end of the bargain—one spell, as promised. And if that man trulyisSylvia’s father, I suppose there’s even more guarantee that it will work as you want it to.”
I started to respond, then stopped short. “Wait, how the hell did you know that we—”
“Sylvia told me about yourveryromantic endeavor.Insane, some might call it, but that’s beside the point. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Who am I to judge?” Delilah tilted her head thoughtfully. “Although, if we’re successful in making her human, it won’t be a secret very long.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose, pushing a hand back through my hair.
If we had a proper gemstone,I thought.We could put that to the test.
“I’m not worried that you’ll go back on your word,” I said. “I’m not looking for that. It’s something else. For myself.”
“A hunter who wants to dabble in dark magic,” she surmised after searching me. “Given your choice of romantic partner, I suppose that isn’t too outlandish.”
Every instinct told me to hate her, to distrust her. But who else could I share this with? Cliff would have an aneurysm if I mentioned I was evenconsideringit.
“For years, I used to see it all as black and white. But now…” I trailed off, eyeing her not with disgust but withenvy. “I wanted to know that I can still protect Sylvia even when I’m stripped of weapons. The things we’ve been coming up against these past months… Something’s changing. The world is different. Ifeel so helpless until I have a gun in my hands, and even then—” I almost wished Delilah would interrupt, but she patiently watched with an unreadable expression. “If I always had something to protect us, I wouldn’t have to feel that way again.”
I fully expected her to kick me out of the room, maybe even out of the house.
But she sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. Seeing as you’ve chosen a life that creates a close proximity with magic, perhaps it was inevitable that you’d want to wield it eventually.” She gave me a far too knowing look, then gave a slow nod. “Maybe you just can’t help it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ve had a theory for the past couple of days—but well, I didn’t have time to test it, did I?”
She strode past me, eyeing the bottles and jars on her workbench. Like the books, none of the glassware was labeled, but as she pulled a shallow wooden dish in front of her, she seemed to know precisely what each container held. She gathered nearly a dozen ingredients in quick succession and added them to the dish—dried fronds and petals, powders, and splashes of oils.
“There.” She turned to me with a small folding knife in hand. “I’ll need a few drops of your blood to be sure.”
“You needwhat?” I took a healthy step back, automatically reaching for my hip to find a weapon that wasn’t there.
Delilah rolled her eyes. “I’m not binding your soul to mine or anything. Think of this like a determination of how well you’d take to magic.” She held the blade’s handle out to me. “Here. If you can’t handle a few drops, you’re not going to make it very far to begin with.”
Reluctantly, I accepted the weapon and stood beside her. The odd ingredients in the wooden dish didn’t stir, looking more like something that had been scraped from the gutter after a storm.
With a sharp exhale, I pricked my finger and allowed Delilah to guide my hand over the dish. Three drops of my blood fell into her concoction—and the effect was immediate. A small crackle shivered through the oils and leaves, followed by a thin plume of dark blue smoke that rose like incense. I had no clue what to make of it, but Delilah observed the display pensively, nodding like this was to be expected.
“You, like many unsuspecting people, have veiled blood,” she announced.
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Magical bloodlines have thinned over many generations. It’s not uncommon at all for people to have ancestors who dabbled in sorcery and bound magic to their blood. Most people go through life without ever knowing it, but there are always signs when you know where to look.” She met my stunned expression with a small smile. “For example: getting away with rampant pickpocketing at a high-class event like the Crimson Gala.”
Stammering, I shook my head. “That’s… I mean, I’ve done that since I was a kid. It’s not like I started tonight.”
“Did you ever get caught, even once?”
My hesitation was all the answer she needed.
