by Eden Briar
“Oh. Okay.” Suave, Indy. Very suave.
He gets up, takes my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and helps me to my feet. Then he jumps onto the street and reaches up to lift me down. As soon as I’m back on solid ground, we start walking in the opposite direction from where the three vampires ran.
“This whole name thing is usually an exchange,” he points out. “I tell you mine, you tell me yours. That sort of thing.”
“Indy.” My attention is mostly on the street. Any moment now, those guys could be back.
“Yeah? I like it. Short for something?”
“Indigo.”
I see him give me a closer look, no doubt taking in my dark hair, dark eyes, and dark clothes.
“Indigo,” he repeats slowly.
“My parents might have been color blind, or… possibly illiterate,” I suggest lightly.
“Maybe they just liked how it sounds. Or you’re named after a relative. You ever try asking them?”
Given they’d abandoned me—literally—on the side of the road when I was four, that had never been an option.
“If they ever turn up, it’s the first question on my list,” I promise as we round the corner. “Um, I hate to spoil an otherwise lovely evening but… where are we going?”
He turns serious, and somehow that just makes him all the more handsome.
“Somewhere safe. We have to get you off the streets until dawn. Every vampire in this town will be on the lookout for you soon.”
I tug my hand out of Jazz’s. “I can’t. My friend, Lincoln…”
“The human they were talking about? He’ll already be on his way home.”
“No, Linc wouldn’t… he’d never leave without me.”
He slows his pace and gives me a long look. “Hell, you really are as lost as you look. Odd for a clary.”
“My name is Indy,” I throw back, belatedly realizing what he’d said. “Wait, what’s a clary?”
His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Assume I’m not,” I grit out, anger finally getting the better of me, “and explain.”
He nods, a hint of respect mixing with the incredulity in his expression.
“It’s short for clairvoyant. In some contexts, like how those guys were using it, it’s really more of a slur.”
“I’m not clairvoyant,” I point out, feeling it’s necessary to be clear on that point.
“Uh-huh,” he says, his disbelief obvious. “And you were just in the casino because you like to play games.”
“I was there with my boss. He plays, I answer emails.”
“And you help him win.”
“No. There’s no card counting, I’m not looking over anyone’s shoulder.”
“But I bet you still know more about everyone’s hand than anyone else at the table.”
I glance away, uncomfortable under his gaze.
“Look, I don’t know about the morals of the situation,” he says, “but clarys are banned from vampire-run casinos for just that reason. Your magic-given talents give you an unfair edge, and they’re strict about it.”
“But I wasn’t even playing.”
“You think you’re the first to use a human proxy to get around the rules?”
“Proxy?” I shake my head, belatedly remembering what the ‘vampires’ had called Lincoln. My human pet. Oh hell, what have I done?
“Come on,” he says, quickening his pace. “We’re almost there.”
‘There’ turns out to be another unassuming townhouse. We climb the steps up to the door, Jazz unlocks it, and we cross into an entryway. The door clicks shut behind me, and we’re stuck in a small room.
Jazz turns to me, giving me a reassuring smile. My stomach flip-flops a little but I ignore it.
“I’m just gonna need you to glance into that mirror,” he says, pointing left.
I turn toward the mirror at the same time he does, but he’s the first to speak.
“Holy shit.”
He sounds as shocked as I feel, because… well… wow.
“Is that some kind of trick? Like an optical illusion?” But as I ask, I see Jazz’s reflection, and he looks just the same. It’s only me that’s different. My hair, which was dull brown and falling limply to my shoulders is now a beautiful wavy chestnut color. My face, my features, which have always been bland and forgettable, are more pronounced. Hell, I have cheekbones. But it’s my eyes that give me pause—they’re a deep blue and not their usual muted gray. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a stranger’s eyes staring back at me through the mirror. But this feels different. Familiar.
“Indigo,” Jazz murmurs. “Now I get it. Those are some pretty nifty glamours you’ve got going on.”
“Huh?” I glance at Jazz.
“I thought there was something special about you,” Jazz continues. “But I never figured you were a half-blood like me.”
The door into the house clicks open.
“And we’re good to go,” Jazz says, gesturing me ahead of him. “Come on in.”
I have so many questions, it’s starting to get a little ridiculous. I need a list. And maybe a PA to take notes.
With one final glance in the mirror, taking in a reflection that’s me and yet not me at the same time, I step through the doorway and into the unknown.
3
The unknown turns out to be less exciting than it sounds. It’s a boring-looking hall in a house anyone could live in. But then a door opens and a harried, distracted man steps out, his eyes on a book in his hands. He glances up at us and looks back down with a frown. Another few seconds pass before he lifts his head, his gaze narrowed.
“You know the rules, Jasper. Guests aren’t allowed.”
“She’s not a guest, Evan,” Jazz says quickly. “This is Indigo. I saved her from the vamp—”
“That was you?” Evan asks, then shakes his head. “Of course it was you. Well, she shouldn’t be here, she doesn’t belong. Clairvoyants take care of their own. Drop her off at the séance center.”
I’ve only just met these people, but it still hurts to hear the clear rejection in Evan’s voice.
“Can’t,” Jazz says simply. “She’s a half-blood.”
Evan’s eyes focus on me again, giving me a closer look. “I’m not buying it, Jasper. The vampires are up in arms; let her people take care of this.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Jazz grits out. “We are her people. She’s also a spellcaster. If you don’t believe me, check the residual energy in the mirror. She had a ton of glamours on.”
“A half-blood?” Evan repeats, still sounding doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“Half-clary, half-caster, from what I’ve seen. Just like Ben but less neurotic.”
I don’t know who Ben is, but I’m feeling a little sorry for him.
“Um, sorry to interrupt.” I wave a hand at them. “But I have a few questions.”
A few dozen and counting.
Evan ignores me, walking out into the entryway, presumably to check the mirror.
“What’s a glamour?” I ask Jazz.
“It’s like a spell you do on yourself. It’s caster magic.”
“As opposed to… other magic?”
“Exactly—sorcery, druidry, clairvoyance, spellcasting. The four magics.”
“Where do the vampires fit in all of this?”
Evan hasn’t reappeared, and I’m taking the opportunity to get some answers.
“Ah, the master races.”
“Master?” Oh, hell no.
“You won’t be surprised to learn they chose the name themselves.”
“How many of these… master races are there?” The word almost sticks in my throat.
“Three—vampires, shapeshifters, dragons.”
My mind stutters at dragons before I shove that to the back of the queue. I’ll freak out later.
“You’re half-blood too?” I’m still not convinced I haven’
t stepped into some kind of weird cult.
“Uh-huh.” Jazz looks cagey for a moment. “I’m half-caster, like you.”
“And half-what?”
“Don’t freak out, okay?”
“If I’m not screaming and tearing my hair out by now… you’re probably safe.” I’m making no promises.
Jazz still looks like he’d rather change the subject.
“I’m half-shifter,” he says. “Wolf, to be specific.”
The balancing on fences and jumping suddenly makes sense.
I look him up and down, but he doesn’t seem any different to my eyes. “So do you… become a wolf on the full moon or something?”
Evan chooses that moment to sweep back into the hall. “That is a touchy subject… Indigo, was it?”
“Indy,” I say quickly.
“Those are some unusual glamours you’re using,” he says. “The magic’s somewhat unclear. Where were you trained?”
Jazz answers, saving me the trouble.
“She wasn’t, Evan. She didn’t know she was a clairvoyant, or at least, she was in denial about it,” he adds on seeing Evan’s skepticism. “But she had no idea she was even wearing glamours. You should have seen her face when she looked in the mirror. You can’t fake that.”
Evan sighs again, like I’m the biggest disappointment, and I have the urge to sink through the floor. What I wouldn’t give for that talent right now. How is it my fault the world has gone crazy?
“As much as I would like to get to the bottom of this most riveting mystery,” he says dryly, “your interference with the vampires has already stirred up trouble. Wait until dawn, and then head home. Take Indigo with you. She’ll be safer out of town until things die down.”
“Sure,” Jazz agrees readily as Evan walks past us, back into the room he’d first exited, and shuts the door firmly behind him. It’s a clear dismissal.
Jazz turns to me. “There are guest rooms upstairs if you want to get some sleep.”
The look I give him has him grinning. “Or we could go to the kitchen, have ice cream, and get to work on that backlog of questions I can see you’re itching to ask.”
Now that I’ve had a few minutes to catch my breath, my thoughts turn to Linc again.
“Can I borrow your phone?” I’ve lost my purse and phone in the chaos.
“Sure,” he says, handing it over, which is the moment I realize that I’ve lost Linc’s phone as well. I could call the office, but even if the vampires had told the truth and let him go, he won’t be back there for hours yet.
“Uh, never mind,” I say, handing it back.
“It might be better this way,” he says softly.
Before I can ask what he means, he’s walking away from me and further into the house. Knowing my best chance of getting answers lies with him, I follow.
We turn left into another corridor, and then through a door into the kitchen.
“Grab a seat,” he says and goes searching through the freezer. “We have… chocolate chip or vanilla.”
“Break out the chocolate, I think I’m gonna need it.”
He sets a tub of ice cream and two spoons down in front of me, then settles into the seat opposite.
“Ask a question, I’ll answer. If you need it, have a spoonful of ice cream,” he says.
“You have a method, cool. Like… ice cream therapy.”
He grins at me. “It’ll help soften the blow, I promise.”
Picking up the spoon, I take a deep breath and start with, “Vampires are real?”
He nods. “Oh, yeah. They’re the real deal. Bloodsucking, daylight-avoiding, super-strong…”
“Gambling fanatics?” I add innocently.
“They’ve got a monopoly on underground casinos in certain places. Drug running in others. Human trafficking. You name it; they’ve got their fingers in it. But gambling is their mainstay in this part of the country.”
I contemplate the tub of ice cream but don’t yet take any.
“What would they have done to me if you hadn’t shown up?”
His expression turns serious. “They’ve got a zero-tolerance policy on clarys. You were a dead woman the moment you stepped foot on the premises. They’d have drunk you dry and probably dumped your body at one of the séance houses or sanctuaries as a warning to the clairvoyant community.”
I dig in with my spoon and swallow a mouthful of sweet, creamy ice cream, crunching on the chocolate chips as I contemplate my brush with death.
“Why’d you step in?” I ask. “How’d you even know I was there?” That part has been bothering me.
“I was out for a run,” he says with a shrug. “Heard your voices, thought I’d get a closer look at what was going on. Stepped in because it looked a little unfair.”
I’m still trying hard to get my head around the part where he noticed me.
“What?” Jazz asks. “Why is that so hard to believe? I saw you, you looked like you needed help, I helped. Classic hero complex, or so Archer is always saying.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” I wince even as the words leave my mouth. It sounds like a clichéd brush-off. “You have to understand—people don’t notice me, ever. And if they do, they don’t really see me. Their eyes usually slide right on by.” By rights, Jasper should have done the same.
His hand reaches across the table and covers mine.
“I saw you,” he tells me. “I couldn’t help but see you, glamours or no glamours.”
There’s a moment where we’re looking into each other’s eyes, and it’s intense and powerful.
“Next question,” he prompts gently.
I turn my attention to Jazz himself. “How come the vampires didn’t find us out on the street? You said they had sensitive hearing, and we weren’t exactly well hidden up on that bus shelter.”
To my surprise, he flushes a little at the question. “You’re not the only one who can go unnoticed. It’s my shifter side. Like a sort of camouflage. I can mask my scent and my heartbeat. Yours too, thanks to being right on top of you. It’s pretty limited, though. If we’d moved at all or spoken above a whisper, they’d have been on us in seconds. I’ve only just gotten to the point where I can shield a second person. Even then, only if they’re close, and not for very long. It takes a lot out of me.”
That explains why his hands were shaking when he pulled away. I offer him the ice cream this time, watching as he scoops out a spoonful.
“That’s some pretty cool abilities you’ve got there.”
His smile almost takes my breath away. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
I glance at the clock, taking in the late hour. “How long until dawn?”
He checks his phone. “Dawn’s at 4:42 a.m. To be safe, we’ll give it until five and then get on the road.”
It’s just after one a.m. now. That gives us another while for question time. But even as I’m thinking of my next question, a yawn escapes me.
Jazz is on his feet before my mouth is closed. “I’ll show you to the guest room and you can take a nap. Don’t worry, the house is well-warded. The vampires might be pissed right now, but they’re not stupid enough to try to break in, especially not this close to dawn.”
I glance down at the ice cream forlornly, thinking of the million and one questions I’ve yet to ask him.
“It’ll keep,” he promises.
We put away the ice cream and wash the spoons before I follow Jazz up the stairs. I’m tempted to ask to see his room, but by the time we reach the landing, I’m swaying on my feet.
Jazz opens a door and helps me inside, not even bothering to turn on the light. Is it his shifter or his caster side that’s giving him night vision? Before I can ask, I’m sinking down into a cool, soft bed.
“Get some rest,” he says. “I’m in the room right across the hall. Yell if you need me. I’ll wake you at dawn.”
I murmur an acknowledgment, but I’m already more asleep than awake. It feels like only a few minutes pass before a voi
ce is calling to me. I sit up, spying the mirror on the wall to the left of the bed. Even though the room is pitch black, I can just make out the outline of my reflection. That low whisper comes again, and I shiver as I get up, surprised when my stockinged feet touch the carpet. I pad over to the mirror, knowing what I’ll see even before I gaze at my reflection. A pair of eyes stare back at me, wide with fear. But those green eyes aren’t mine.
4
A knock on the door has me jumping.
“Indy?” Jazz calls. “Are you up?”
He opens the door, letting light into the room and chasing away the rogue reflection.
“Ready to hit the road?” he asks, frowning at whatever he sees on my face.
“Yeah.” I take one last look in the mirror, spying the familiar dull gray of my eyes and feeling the need to explain why I’m staring at the mirror in a dark room. “My glamours are back.”
“Huh, so they are. The entrance mirrors knock them out, but it’s only temporary. You really don’t know you’re doing that?”
I shake my head. As far back as I can remember, I’ve looked… well… boring. Everything about me is nondescript, meant to avoid attention. A part of me knows there’s a reason for that. A reason never to reveal the truth about what I see through my eyes.
“Well, magic will out, or so Archer always says. Come on, I want to be out of the city before the commuter traffic picks up.”
The idea of traffic is such a normal concept that I almost laugh but follow Jazz out, making a grateful dash into the bathroom he shows me, though I’m careful to avoid staring too long in the mirror.
When I emerge, as neat and tidy as I’m going to get with nothing but my fingers to neaten my hair, Jazz is waiting at the top of the stairs, wearing dark wash jeans, a navy T-shirt, and a black jacket. My heart does a little pitter-patter on seeing him, and I self-consciously tug at my crumpled, creased work clothes.
He hands me a bottle of water and a wrapped package with a flourish. “Granola bar, the breakfast of champions.”
I eat quickly as I follow him outside, not through the front entrance we’d come in the night before, but to the back where there’s a garage with a car and a bike.
