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The instant the object touched the wooden counter, the room seemed to grow noticeably quieter. The woman’s gaze dropped to the token, and the playful smile slipped from her face, replaced by recognition. She picked it up with surprising care, turning it over once in her fingers before giving a small nod to herself.

“Well,” she murmured and slid the token back across the counter. “I haven’t seen one of Hecate’s passage seals in quite some time.”

Ria tucked it away. “I’d rather not waste anyone’s time.”

“I can see that. If Hecate trusted you with one of those”—she inclined her head—“then I know you’re here for a good reason.” She leaned back in her chair. “Dorian moved a little while back.”

“Moved?” Asterion frowned.

“To Salem.”

“Salem?” Ria echoed.

The woman wrote down an address on a notepad. Tearing off the page—“You’ll find him here”—she slid it toward Ria.

Ria glanced at the address. It wasn’t just a street and a number. In one corner was a note in elegant handwriting. Ask for the raven with blue eyes.

Ria looked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Dorian doesn’t always answer the front door.”

“That explains nothing,” Asterion frowned.

“It will when you get there.”

Ria folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket. “Thank you.”

“Tell Dorian…” She paused, reconsidering. “Actually, don’t. He still owes me a thousand dollars.”

Ria couldn’t help snickering. “Noted.”

The woman returned to her magazine, and Ria took that as their cue to leave. Outside, she fell into step beside Asterion and looked down the street.

“I guess we’re going to Salem.”

Asterion grunted. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Ria smiled and kept walking.

Chapter 9

Asterion

Asterion folded another shirt and placed it into the travel bag, mentally reviewing everything they would need for the trip to Salem. Clothes, his weapons, and the map Ria insisted they wouldn’t need because she had the directions on her phone. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that trusting a little glowing rectangle over a proper map was wise.

His thoughts turned to the one thing he couldn’t pack away quite so easily, leaving Korinnae behind. His chest tightened ever so slightly. She had only just begun to settle into a routine. Each morning, she wanted to know what they were doing, and at the end of the day, she eagerly recounted everything she’d learned, whether it was another dance from Velvet Harmony or a new recipe Ria, or now Ismene, had taught her. For the first time since Xanthe’s death, she seemed genuinely happy, and the thought of walking away, even for a few days, didn’t sit well with him.

Then he thought of Cerberus, the absurd little fluffy dog, or rather, the legendary three-headed guardian hiding beneath that glamour. He let out a huff. If anyone, or anything, tried to harm Korinnae while they were in the Upperworld, Cerberus would make short work of them. That brought him more comfort than he cared to admit.

There was also everything Ria had done before they left Vale Crossing. She had spent nearly an hour explaining the protections she’d placed around Korinnae: Wards woven into the little calf’s clothes, layers of enchantments designed not to interfere with one another, and tracking charms that would allow Ria to find her if something went wrong. On top of that, Cerberus apparently possessed enough magic to whisk Korinnae somewhere safe if she was ever in real danger.

He still wasn’t entirely sure how that worked, or where “somewhere safe” actually was. He’d stopped asking after Ria cheerfully replied, It’s magical as if that were an answer he could understand.

He shook his head as he fastened the straps on his bag. Magic seemed to be the answer to everything these days. A few weeks ago, he would have argued against it on principle. He’d spent most of his life distrusting anything he couldn’t understand or control. Now, a witch was saving his niece’s life.

Magic hadn’t been a simple answer. It had demanded more and more of Ria each time she treated Korinnae, but the lass was finally getting stronger. The enchantments surrounding her allowed her to walk safely through the Upperworld, and even the oversized dog sleeping downstairs owed his disguise to magic. Apparently, he was going to have to get used to it.

He rubbed at the base of his horn. The world he’d spent his entire life believing in kept shifting beneath his feet. And then there was the other complication: the witch.