Her expression soured for a moment. “Hardly.”
“Then what is it?”
“I spoke to Grisholm earlier today. He had some information for me. I tracked you down on my way to deal with it.”
“What did he learn?” I asked, unable to hide my anticipation.
Again, she leaned in close as we walked, but this time the wind did not prompt her—the need for discretion did. “There is to be an event soon—a very private and exclusive, if not somewhat dubious, auction—at which some very rare items will be sold for exorbitant amounts of money.”
“You mean a black market auction.”
“Indeed.”
“These objects…will they be of this world?” I asked, doing my best to speak in code within earshot of passing humans.
“Not all of them, according to Grisholm’s source. It is his understanding that there are some very powerful individuals involved in the planning.”
“Individuals like the judge and police chief?”
She shook her head. “More powerful than that…” She looked at me through her lashes, and I understood her implication.
“And he has reason to believe that the gem we want will be there?”
“He has not been able to confirm that, but given the secrecy surrounding the event and the abilities of those Grisholm knows are involved, combined with the timing of the new arrivals in the city, it seems very likely. At least we know it is likely safe for the time being, if it indeed will be there. The others involved…their abilities will keep it from falling into the wrong hands until it can be sold.”
“When is the auction?”
“Three days forth on Friday, which means that it’s imperative that the translation is completed and ready to go by then. It’s the one place we can ensure those we seek will be. We will have the upper hand if we plan accordingly—”
“An ambush,” I said, smiling wide.
“Precisely. I’m on my way to visit our beloved Chief Laskey to see if I can draw some information from him.” She looked up at me and winked. “There are no rules against me using my ability on him, now are there?” She stopped and kissed me on the cheek. “Please don’t be angry with Petal, Oleander. She only did as I bade her. And if it’s any consolation, she didn’t want to do it and felt terrible about it for weeks.”
“I’m glad she was able to get past her guilt.”
“Your sarcasm is noted without comment. Now, when will I see you later?”
“I’m not sure.”
“But you’ll have your answer for me by tomorrow?” I nodded. “All right. Tomorrow, then.”
“Goodbye Ivy. Try not to overwhelm the poor police chief. He’s but a simple man with a simple mind. I’m sure a gander at your breasts alone will be enough for him to divulge his darkest secrets.”
She laughed as she adjusted the deep neckline of her purple silk dress. “I will take that under advisement.” She walked off toward the station house and disappeared into the crowd.
I stood in the street and contemplated the decision I would soon have to make, until a horse nearly ran me over. I backed into an alcove and tried to clear my head, but a sudden jolt of fear overcame me, and I turned to find a particular demon smiling down at me. “What a lovely coincidence, Andy my dear. Tell me, are you ready to give me your answer now?”
I took a deep breath and stepped back out into the street, hoping that, this time, a different horse might succeed where the last one had failed and put me out of my misery.
CHAPTER NINE
“No,” I said, heading back toward the boarding house.
“No, you aren’t ready, or—”
“No, I won’t do what you ask.”
“Well, that’s incredibly inconvenient for us both,” Zen said under his breath, though still loudly enough for me to hear, as I assumed was his intention.
“What’s incredibly inconvenient for me at the moment is the fact that one of the Lilies is keeping tabs on me, which, by nature of your persistence, will soon become an inconvenience for you, too.”
“Oh, I very much doubt that,” he said with confidence both unfounded and unshared.
“Because you can’t be killed by my sisters?”
“Well yes, there is that,” he said matter of factly, “but that’s not the reason.” I stared at him in silence as we walked, until he took my cue. “You’re concerned that our association will be discovered, but there’s no need.” He reached under his collar and withdrew a cord with a simple silver circle tied to the end. “I have this, you see, so our time together is sacred—”
“It most certainly is not—”
“—and we can’t be seen together by your sisters.”
I stopped short. Interesting… “Are you being serious? They can’t see you at all?” He shook his head. I started walking again. “But what if those prying eyes are less literal and more…abstract than that?” I asked, hedging on the subject of Petal’s powers. “More cerebral, so to speak?”
His brow furrowed in thought, then shot halfway up his forehead in surprise. “Oh my, Andy, you do keep the most fascinating company. Your little guild of vigilantes must be quite powerful.”
“A fact you’d be wise to keep in mind.”
He waved a hand at me to dismiss my threat. “Yes, yes, you’ve made your point—”
“Which is more than you’ve done—”
“—but we should be secure from that as well, because this little circle keeps me hidden from beings of power I don’t wish to be seen by, which means that, when you are with me, you’re not really with me.”
“Are you saying that I look like I’m walking down the street talking to myself?” My incredulous tone did not go unnoticed.
“Of course not, silly woman. Humans can see me—”
“But others cannot?”
“Exactly.”
Interesting, indeed. “And your kind?”
“It doesn’t work on them, I’m afraid, but we can’t recognize one another easily here. There is no flashing beacon that screams ‘I am a de—’”
I ribbed him with my elbow, knocking his breath—and that word—from him in a loud huff. “We don’t say that in public. Remember that.”
His coughing slowed, and he smoothed his coat and straightened his hat. “For next time?” he asked with a sly smile. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“No. That will never happen, but you’ve solved a problem for me today, so you may go forth on your own knowing that you’ve done at least one good deed in your existence.”
“I’m overjoyed,” he deadpanned.
“Good. Now run along.”
“I won’t be running far,” he countered.
“We’ll see about that.” I turned down Fourth Avenue, and Zen didn’t follow. Instead, he stared at me, dark eyes full of menace, showing both who and what he truly was. I was certain I hadn’t seen the last of him.
Demons were notoriously relentless.
There was quite a tableful for dinner that night at Whittle House, the boisterous conversation drifting outside the quaint brick building. I walked in to find Mrs. Whittle fussing over the gentlemen at the table. She always acted as though running the home was a tedious chore, but in truth, she adored it, which was evident from the way she doted on her boarders and spoiled them—especially the younger men. At first, I’d thought it was flirtation, but then one day, I’d happened upon a turned-down picture in the parlor. I’d thought it had been bumped, so I’d picked it up and placed it upright on the piano. The handsome young man in the image had smiled back at me until Mrs. Whittle had come in, all in a dither, and snatched the photo away. She’d cradled it to her bosom like it was her treasure; and that was when I’d realized what it was—or at least who the person in the photo had once been. She’d muttered his name and something about cholera. The rest I’d put together on my own.
What was left of my heart had broken a bit for the poor woman at that moment.
“Miss Nightshad
e!” a portly gentleman at the far end of the table called, followed by a chorus of my name from the other seated men. I was a bit of a novelty at Whittle House, being the only woman residing there, aside from the mistress of the home. I was the only witch, too, but no need to tell them that.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” I said as I took my seat between Thomas and Robin, brothers who had come to the city to find work. They were masons, and two of the best in the business. If you gave them five minutes, they’d tell you so.
“Did you have a nice walk?” Thomas asked, smiling like a cat in the cream.
“I did.”
“Are you doing anything this evening?” Robin’s excitement at the question gave me pause.
“I think I’ll stay in and read. And you?”
The poor boy practically deflated.
“Ah, Miss Nightshade, why not give the lad a chance?” Mr. Smith, who lived across the hall from me, called from the head of the table. “You’ve got no other prospects at the moment, and he’s got a good job!”
“I’m afraid I’m just not the marrying sort, Mr. Smith.”
“You don’t have to marry Robin,” Thomas said into his bowl of soup, “but you could let him have a go—”
“Thomas Jeffries!” Mrs. Whittle cried from the doorway. “Get out of this room this instant!”
“I was only teasing, Mrs. Whittle,” he argued.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Whittle. Don’t worry yourself. The truth is that I’m not very hungry,” I said, pushing away from the table, “and neither Thomas nor Robin will be ‘having a go’ with me, anyway. I prefer men to boys…”
Raucous laughter erupted from the others as I strode to the stairwell, poor Mrs. Whittle clutching her wooden spoon to her chest like I’d just dropped my clothes and gone for a naked stroll down Broadway. I’d have to apologize to her in the morning.
Sometimes I felt that was all I did over breakfast (or lunch…or dinner, as the case often was).
I opened my room to find the vial waiting for me on the dresser. I left it there for a while as I read. I liked to take it at the same time each day whenever possible; I’d become a creature of habit in that regard. And since Hazel wasn’t certain how consistently the potion needed to be taken or how strong it had to be, I wanted to keep the other variables to a minimum whenever possible, though that had gone by the wayside over the past few days.
An hour or two after sunset, I walked over to the dresser and took the vial in my hand. I looked out over the gaslit city, wondering how many demons were about and if they would find a way to get the Demonheart Opal before we could. Ivy seemed satisfied that it was under magical lock and key, but I wouldn’t be until I held it in one of my own hands while the other killed Xandros.
I uncorked the vial and pressed the cool glass to my lips. My body felt at ease knowing that Hazel’s concoction was on its way, its healing powers ready to help fill the void left by my missing soul. But as I tipped the vial back, a shadowy figure walked past Whittle House. I leaned closer to the window to better see who it was, and flame-filled eyes turned to me. I gasped at the sight of Zen letting his demon show through, and I dropped the vial in the process. Brown liquid spilled on the wood floor, and I scrambled to pick it up before all of it was lost.
I stared at the mess I’d made and cursed the demon under my breath as the elixir poured through the cracks in the wood. With only half of it left, I said a silent prayer that it would be enough to serve its purpose. Only time would tell.
There was no sign of Zen when I went back to the window, so I drew the curtains to block out the view and quickly got ready for bed. I needed all the sleep I could get. Tomorrow promised to be a day full of unknowns.
CHAPTER TEN
I awoke feeling as though I’d been drugged, was sick, or was drunker than I’d ever been in my life, which would have been impressive had that truly been the case—my drinking abilities were legendary. Every movement I made was laborious and painful, and I nearly tumbled out of the bed for lack of strength in my legs. It was a damn miracle that I managed to get cleaned up without passing out. Since I’d arrived in New York and started taking Hazel’s potions, I’d never missed one dose. I’d known that spilling some of it might be a problem, but not even in my wildest dreams could I have imagined just how wrecked I would be without the proper amount.
I wondered if I’d even be alive had she not concocted it in the first place.
Once I was dressed in my leather pants, boots, and a clean blouse, I splashed some water on my face and drank whatever was left in the pitcher. I felt slightly better, but only better than death. I needed to get to the guild on my own, which seemed unlikely, given my state. I contemplated my situation as I made my way downstairs painfully slowly, taking one step at a time.
“Miss Nightshade, are you all right?” Mrs. Whittle called from the hall below. “My Lord, dear, you look frightful!”
“Good morning to you, too, Mrs. Whittle.”
“Come sit at the dining table. Breakfast will be done shortly.”
“Coffee?” I managed to grunt in response.
“I’ll get it for you now.” She hesitated and gave me an appraising look. “I don’t want to nag like a mother, but you really shouldn’t drink so much. It’s far from ladylike.” She took in my pants and unbound hair, then let out a sigh of defeat. “I suppose it’s a bit late for that discussion, though, isn’t it? It’ll be a wonder if you’re ever married off—oh! That reminds me, I have someone to tell you about—”
“It’ll have to wait until after that coffee, I’m afraid,” I said, inching my way along the wainscotting on the wall.
“But—”
“Coffee. Please. I feel like my damn head is going to explode at any moment.” She took a step back, clutching her collar. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Whittle. I promise to keep my cursing to a minimum today if you’ll bring me coffee...”
She muttered something undoubtedly unfavorable under her breath as she stalked down the hall toward the kitchen. A pang of guilt tugged at my chest, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the pains plaguing my body. They refused to be usurped so easily.
I’d have to remember to craft a better apology for the old busybody later.
I walked down the hall, preparing to ignore the other boarders. I wasn’t in the mood for them—not with the throbbing in my head—and I was quite certain that the feeling was mutual, at least as far as Robin and Thomas were concerned. But the closer I got to the dining room, a different feeling altogether started to assault my senses. Panic overtook me as I rounded the corner, prepared to do battle on top of the cherry table Mrs. Whittle adored so much. Then I saw the lone man in the room, staring at me with a sly smile on his face.
The most creative string of curses ever uttered ran through my mind.
“Why Miss Nightshade, to what do I owe the pleasure?” There was mischief and mayhem sparkling in Zen’s eyes as he taunted me from the far side of the table. Or was it fire? In my state, I couldn’t be certain.
“Hello…”
“Mr. Henderson,” Mrs. Whittle called as she rushed into the room, coffee in hand, “do you know Miss Nightshade?”
“I do, in fact. We were recently acquainted.”
Mrs. Whittle leaned over to pour my coffee and whisper in my ear. “That is what I wanted to talk to you about.” She jerked her head toward Zen in a conspicuous manner, though I thought she’d meant it to be anything but. Subtlety was not the woman’s strong suit.
“Too late for warnings now,” I replied, feigning cheer. I picked up the mug and downed half of the scalding coffee with no regard for my sensitive flesh. One of the perks of being a Daughter of Fire. “So, Mr. Henderson, is it?”
“Yes—”
“I thought you two were acquainted?”
“On a first-name basis only,” I said, winking at the old woman. The scandalous answer nearly sent her backward, ass over teakettle, coffee pot in hand.
“She’s only teasing you, Mrs. Whittle,” Z
en said, swooping in to spare my reputation. “Miss Nightshade has quite the dark sense of humor. She can be such a devil at times…”
I choked on my coffee, nearly spitting it across the table onto his perfectly tailored coat. The deep blue of it set off the black of his hair beautifully. I quickly searched for the cream on the table and poured some into my mug.
“You must be incredibly astute,” Mrs. Whittle said, her cheeks turning rosy, “but don’t let that dark humor put you off, Mr. Henderson. Our dear Miss Nightshade is quite the catch. It just takes the right eye to see it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Whittle,” I said through gritted teeth. She turned to take in my icy glare and excused herself, announcing that breakfast would be out in five minutes.
The moment she disappeared, Zen leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and resting his head on his folded hands as mayhem filled his heavy gaze. “I think she likes me.”
“I think she just wants to pawn me off on someone.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “She thinks you’re a catch.”
“She thinks saying that will get me out of her hair.”
“Not if I’m staying here, it won’t.”
My eyes went wide at the suggestion; then I quickly regained control of my features and settled them into a scowl. “The house is full.”
“It is now…” That goddamn smile returned and my blood began to boil, while something entirely different happened to other parts of me, despite my half-dead state. “It’s fortuitous timing, really. Apparently, Mr. Smith—you know, the older gentleman who’s lived across the hall from you for several months now—was called away to visit family late last night. He took off right away, not too long before I came to inquire about rooms to let.”
“How very fortuitous, indeed,” I said over the top of my mug, “though not for poor Mr. Smith.”
“I’m sure it was worth his while,” he replied, reaching for the coffee. He gestured the pot toward me, and I reached my mug underneath. He poured slowly, never taking his eyes off me, and yet somehow knew exactly when to stop before flooding the table. “So, Miss Nightshade, care to tell me why you’re so…under the weather this morning?”
A Curse of Nightshade (Witches of the Gilded Lilies Book 1) Page 8
