Or maybe it would have.
“You’re right. I should have told you where I was going, but I needed to see for myself—needed to see if I was indeed to blame for their disappearance.” I dared to hold her stare, letting the true sadness and guilt I felt show through. Her stiff posture melted somewhat at the sight. “And I am to blame. They died because of me—because I cannot control this need for vengeance that consumes me. I am a danger to anyone close to me...”
“I understand your plight,” Willow said, crouching down beside me. “I do not blame you for it.”
“Nor I,” Petal said.
“I’m sure as hell not about to victim-blame,” Hazel added, “but damn, girl, you need to let your sisters help you! I know you’re a lone wolf—that you think it’s better for all of us if you operate that way—but this doesn’t have to be just your fight.”
“No,” Ivy agreed, “it does not. And it shouldn’t be.” With a whisper under her breath, Reggie appeared. Ivy pointed to me, as though that were all the raven needed to see, then sent him on his way. Before he left, Reggie circled my head and cawed; I couldn’t tell if it was a welcome home or an admonishment. Perhaps it was both.
“Have you learned more about the auction in my absence? Please tell me you didn’t abandon that to search for me.”
“We managed to do both at once,” Ivy said, coming to stand before me, her somber black dress brushing against my legs. “The masquerade event begins at eleven tomorrow night. Grisholm put together a plan for us—well, two, really. One including you and one not.” She let those words sink in before continuing. “The location has not been publicly disclosed yet—letters will be going out to select individuals the day of—but thanks to my private meeting with Judge Cartwright, we already know it and have planned accordingly.”
“Where?” I asked, as my heart hammered in my chest.
This was information Zen and I desperately needed. How on Earth we were going to manage to attend together with all the other Lilies there was beyond me, but I had to find a way. Zen knew too much about the jewel and what to do with it once we procured it to be left behind, though I still had major questions about what he intended to do with it once Xandros was dead. Asking him seemed pointless, so I’d worked through every potential way procuring the Demonheart Opal could backfire and come to the same conclusion every time: killing Xandros at any cost was the lesser evil. Even if Zen had plans for the opal he hadn’t shared—such as using it to become the next demon king himself, which seemed possible, if not probable—he’d need my soul for that, and he couldn’t exactly torture me into giving it to him…assuming it would come back to me upon Xandros’ death. And if he broke our bond and killed me, well, that wouldn’t help his cause, either.
Regardless of the unknowns involving Zen, we did know that Xandros was aware of his treachery, which made Zen a liability unless he could somehow disguise himself, as I planned to. My gaze drifted to the closet of costumes and makeup, and I wondered… “What is my job to be?” I asked, trying to keep my curious tone casual.
Ivy looked thoughtful for a moment, as though pondering whether or not to tell me. “You were to be the woman on the inside,” she said slowly, “but I think that may have to change in light of recent events.”
“Why?” I asked, jumping up from my seat. The speed with which I moved knocked Willow’s hand away as Petal fell back on her haunches, startled. I tried to keep the surprise from my face, an attempt to not draw further attention to the fact that my movement had been far too fast for a witch. “You just said it would be a masquerade. I can disguise myself—”
“A demon just abducted you and let you get away—”
“He didn’t let me—”
“How are we to know that this isn’t what they want—that they’re not using you somehow to get to the opal? We know they cannot kill humans, but they can kill us. If a human were to get their hands on the jewel, it would be much harder for them to procure. But if a witch were to possess it—”
“They could kill us without consequence and take it,” I replied, voice hollow. I wanted to argue, but she was right. I’d been so focused on getting the opal that I’d never considered how dangerous that would be; that it might be safer in the hands of humans than in my own—or Zen’s.
“I’ve been attempting to take over the minds of the demons,” Petal added, “but it’s proven difficult, especially with you gone.”
I swallowed hard at the thought. “Do you need me to burn the place down—perhaps steal the opal in the process?”
“We considered that,” Ivy said in all seriousness, “but we feared there would be too many casualties, even if you were to do it before the event begins.”
“Not if I can control it,” I argued.
“But can you? You were barely able to function before you disappeared—and without your potions—”
“I’m fine,” I snapped at her. “Time moves strangely in the demon realm. I thought I had been gone for a short time, only to return home to a hysterical Mrs. Whittle shouting about my whereabouts for the past two days. To my body, it hasn’t been that long, so provided that I take a potion today and continue to take them, I should be fine.”
More lies. I didn’t need the potions any longer. I had no shred of soul left to try to keep alive.
“She does look pretty damn perky,” Hazel said, eyeing me tightly. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe she really is good to go.”
“Yes,” I said, brow furrowed, “I’m definitely ‘good to go’—”
“We’ll see what Grisholm has to say about your involvement after all that has happened.”
“Grisholm isn’t my keeper,” I reminded Ivy, stifling the growl rattling my throat.
“Grisholm has wisdom and knowledge that we cannot overlook, and we will hear what he has to say on this matter.”
“The Lilies are self-governing,” I argued. “If you don’t want me to be a part of this, then say so yourself. Don’t hide behind a man’s coattails. You’re better than that, Ivy. Stronger, too.”
In a flash, her delicate frame was before me, her finger thrust in my face. “Do not presume to lecture me on strength and morality, Oleander Nightshade. You are not the only member of this guild with a past that haunts you, though you do love to take credit for being so. And no, I do not defer to Grisholm because he is a man. I seek his wisdom as someone who mentored me and whose goals align with my own—yours as well, when you choose to remember that fact. Do not think for one moment that he makes decisions in my stead because I cannot make them on my own. We work together because that is what leaders do. So I will hear his opinion on this, and you will do nothing until I tell you otherwise. You’ve endangered yourself, your sister witches, and the Lilies with your recklessness, and it ends now, do you understand?”
I recoiled from her as though she’d slapped me, the sting of her words permeating every cell in my body. The worst of it was that she wasn’t wrong. My underhanded attempt to manipulate her had pushed her too far—insulted her too deeply—to go unpunished. Ivy cowed to no man, and for me to have suggested otherwise had been unfair.
More guilt welled inside me.
“Then I’ll go back to Whittle House and await news of the plan.”
I walked through the library door without another word.
My sisters did not try to stop me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Zen was nowhere to be found upon my return, and Mrs. Whittle said she hadn’t seen him since she’d found us on her doorstep. Fear snaked up my back as possibilities assailed me, but it calmed when I remembered our bond. I’d know all too well if something had happened to him, which left me wondering what he could be up to. He’d admitted that he could be earthbound without limitation while we were bonded, but I didn’t know if that precluded him from going back to his realm should the need (or desire) arise. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my bedroom door. I needed to know more about this being to whom my life was now tethered, but I didn’
t think that was reason enough to summon him. Then again, what could he do about it? Kill me?
Frustrated by the turn of events with the Lilies, I flopped backward and stared at the ceiling. With every passing second, the shame I’d felt at challenging Ivy slowly turned to anger—the same anger I’d felt when I’d been twelve and my mother’s coven had turned us away, excommunicating us from them and the community at large. We’d spent a year making our way down the coast, looking for refuge in a city large enough to accept us—far enough away to escape the various rumors that followed.
But even New York had not been kind when we’d arrived, and my mother had done all she could to keep that harsh reality from me. It had been just her and me, her adamance that we not rely on another coven plain in how we had lived—how we had skirted the supernatural community, depending only on ourselves for training and education. We’d been outsiders amongst a throng of people, and it had been a lonely existence—at least until I’d met Xandros.
His image in my mind drove me from my bed. I didn’t want to think about the savior he’d once presented himself to be; how he’d swooped into my life and systematically destroyed it. So instead, I broke my word to Ivy and rushed out of Whittle House before its namesake could ask where I was going.
With my coat pulled tightly around me to block the wind whipping down the street, I headed south, letting the gusts take me away. I hadn’t a clue where I was going, and I didn’t particularly care. Given how my disappearance and unwillingness to tell the truth had endangered my involvement with the auction, there was only one thing I could do: track down Zen and form a plan of our own.
As if that mission were enough to guide me, I soon found myself near Five Points, on a little-known side street riddled with practitioners of dark magic—death magic. Druids were hard to find unless you knew where to look. I did, thanks to my mother, who’d dealt with them a time or two. But she’d always cautioned me against doing the same; she’d said the price was rarely if ever worth it.
I wondered if binding myself to a demon would prove the same.
Imagine my surprise when I spotted the demon in question standing under the cover of an awning, huddled close to a druid. Even from yards away, I could tell they were speaking in hushed tones. As if seeing him somehow alerted him to my presence, Zen looked over his shoulder. His gaze fell on me and his expression soured, if only for a moment. Distrust coursed through me, my emotions still raw from my fight with Ivy and my memories of Xandros.
I quickly crossed the street to join him in the filthy alley. “There you are,” I said sweetly, feeling anything but. “I wondered where you’d gotten to.”
“Andy my dear, what a lovely surprise. I’m just finishing up with my associate here.”
I turned to the druid and smiled. “What sort of trouble are you two getting yourselves into?”
The druid’s face was unreadable, well hidden behind his dark cloak, as was their way.
“I came here to get something—for that jewel I promised you, love.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and tucked me into his side, a show of affection, but his grip was punishing, a silent warning to stop whatever shenanigans I had planned. “So,” he said, turning his attention back to the druid, “if my payment is acceptable, I’ll take my purchase and be off.”
“I’ll take it,” I said, reaching my hand toward the druid. “It is for me, after all.”
Before Zen could object, the mute druid reached beneath his brown robe and produced a small wooden box. It was plain in every way save for one rune on the top, branded into the oak: a half circle with two parallel lines intersecting the middle. What that meant, I didn’t know, but I doubted it could be good. With reluctance I didn’t show, I took the item in my hand and tried not to recoil from the mysterious magical being before me. If demons were terrifying, druids were not far behind. Something about their eerie silence unnerved me. Zen, however, seemed far more fazed by my presence than the dark druid’s.
The thought made me smile.
Before Zen could speak, the druid backed into the shadows of the alcove and then disappeared altogether.
“I need to devise a fancy exit like that,” I said as I turned in Zen’s arm. My smile was nearly as vicious as the look he gave me.
“I know this relationship is new, but allow me to make something abundantly clear so as to avoid any unpleasantness in the future,” he said, pulling me against him so hard that the buttons of his coat dug into my chest. “I don’t like being interrupted.”
“When speaking? When eating? When—”
“When doing anything of importance,” he replied, cinching his grip tighter still. “And I do mean anything…”
“Were you planning on doing something of importance that I could interrupt soon? Or is this a general warning?”
His eyes raked over my face. My neck. The slim line of chest peeking out from my coat where it hung open. “I’m always planning something, Andy my dear. You’d do well to remember that.” The double entendre in his words and the promise they held washed over me, and I reached into my pocket to pull out his newly procured box. The sharp corners bit into my skin, helping to clear my thoughts as Zen looked on, his weighty gaze drifting from my eyes to my mouth, then back again.
“Like whatever you plan to do with this?”
He slowly wet his lips and smiled, an act I should have found maddening but didn’t. Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to ignore how it did make me feel. “Shall we head back to Whittle House so I can tell you all about it, or would you prefer to stand here in my arms and await your punishment?”
Panic and heat shot through my body before I stifled them both. “But won’t punishing me just punish you as well?”
He leaned in closer, his smile still intact as his lips brushed my ear. “Perhaps that’s the point.” He released me with a quick, smooth movement and started down the narrow way, leaving me behind, mouth open wide, breath coming in ragged gasps. Perhaps he’d been constricting my lungs as he’d crushed me against his body. Or perhaps my labored breathing was from something else entirely.
Something dark and dangerous that needed to be put away in a magical box, too.
He ushered me into his room and locked the door behind him. For a moment, I wondered if he wasn’t going to make good on his word; if he wasn’t going to punish me for my insolence. But one look at my undoubtedly wide eyes and fighting stance, and he erupted in laughter. “You never disappoint, Andy my dear,” he said as he fought to compose himself. He walked over to drape his coat on the chair, then started to unbutton his brocade vest. By the time he started on his shirt buttons, I could no longer steady my nerves.
“You were going to tell me about the box,” I prompted, thinking it best to focus our collective attention on something else. I needed a break in visual focus before I embarrassed myself by gawking at his soon-to-be naked body. This time, I didn’t have the dark to hide my reaction.
“Of course,” he said, as he slipped his shirt off and tossed it atop his coat. He watched me watching him as he slowly closed the distance between us, his bare chest brushing against my coat as his hand slid down the front of it. Fingertips grazed my hip bone as he dared to go lower, while I stood stock-still, doing nothing to stop him. They playfully walked their way down to the top of my thigh, then quickly disappeared. Seconds later, he held the unfinished wooden box in front of my face, smiling deviously as I tried to silence the thundering beat of my heart before he heard it. “This is to house the Demonheart Opal once I procure it from the auction.”
“Don’t you mean we?”
I looked up to find his dark eyes staring. “That’s what I said, is it not?”
“You want it for yourself,” I said in a hushed tone for fear that Mrs. Whittle would take that moment to linger in the hall.
“What I want is to keep it out of Xandros’ hands,” he replied with no remorse. “And we will do that by whatever means necessary, is that clear?”
I frowned, irr
itation at his tone sinking in. “You don’t give me orders.”
His smile widened as he leaned his naked torso against me. “Not unless you want me to. Which reminds me... about that punishment…”
A brisk knock at the door startled me, and Zen clapped his hand over my mouth, as though I might scream for help from the old woman. The tip of his nose brushed against mine with our proximity, and that damned pounding in my chest hammered on. “Yes?” he called sweetly.
“It’s just me, Mr. Henderson.” Mrs. Whittle replied. “I brought you some fresh water.”
“How very thoughtful of you, Mrs. Whittle. I’m afraid I’m in quite a state of undress at the moment. Would you be so kind as to leave it in the hall for me?”
“Of course.” I could practically hear the flush coloring her cheeks in her tone at the thought of Zen naked. Her brief anger with him had long since been forgiven, not that I could blame her. Even knowing what he was—what he was capable of—it was so easy to be charmed by him.
His lips were mere inches from mine, and I felt my hand drifting up to touch them until I came to my senses and shoved it into my coat pocket. If he noticed the act, his expression gave nothing away. Instead, we stood there in silence, waiting for Mrs. Whittle to finish her rounds on our floor. The second we heard her footsteps on the stairs, Zen released me. “We wouldn’t want to scandalize her any more than you already do yourself,” he said, his proximity to me unchanged.
“Ah yes, that highly-prized virtue you were so interested in speaking with me about.”
His lips twitched. “Yes. That one.”
“I shall have to do my best not to get caught leaving your room, then.”
A hint of fire brewed behind his eyes. “Perhaps you should stay here until dark. In the interest of avoiding the other boarders.”
“We could discuss our plan,” I said, my voice growing huskier in tone the longer his body remained in contact with mine. That thrum of evil coursed through me, though its effects were not the same. What had once felt wrong now settled upon me in a far more welcome way, and for a moment, I wondered if my bond to him had somehow changed the fiber of my being—if I, too, were now evil.
A Curse of Nightshade (Witches of the Gilded Lilies Book 1) Page 15
