by Eden Briar
“Right, so I guess I should do some introductions.” Jazz steps to the right so I can stand by his side. “Everyone, this is Indigo. Indigo, this is Archer, head of our guild.” He points to the tall guy in the middle. “And Lynea, who teaches, among other things, defensive arts. And last, but by no means least, Peter. Or Evan two-point-oh, as I like to call him.”
No one’s lips so much as flicker at his joke.
“Hello.” As uncomfortable as I feel, someone other than Jazz needs to say something.
“You shouldn’t have brought her here, Jasper.” Archer barely spares me a glance as he takes Jazz to task. “Let the clairvoyants handle their own problems.”
“Oh, for heaven’s—” Jazz starts to talk, and then cuts himself off. “She’s only half clairvoyant. She’s also half-spellcaster. The clarys will take one look at her and shut the door in her face. You know how they are. This is exactly where she’s supposed to be. I’m sure Evan told you that as well.”
“He mentioned some glamours of an unusual nature. It’s possible someone else put them on her.”
“And then they magically put themselves back in place before we got here? Pull the other one, Archer.”
“Indigo, perhaps you could clear this up for us,” Archer says, finally turning his attention to me.
My voice is tight when I speak. “It’s Indy. And as far as I’m concerned, I’m none of the above. All I did was visit a casino with my boss. The next thing I know, there’s these guys calling me a clary and trying to kill me. Jazz rescued me, and the mirror changed my hair and my eyes and my face. Now Lincoln doesn’t know who I am anymore, and the vampires might be holding a grudge, and I—”
I cut myself off before the tears can come, reaching for the duffel bag Jazz is holding. It’s clear I’m not welcome here. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
I turn back toward the door when a woman’s voice reaches me.
“Forgive our skepticism, Indy. To say female half-bloods are rare would be an understatement. Right now, whether you are or are not isn’t the material issue. You’re clearly something belonging to our world while knowing nothing about it. That is a very dangerous combination. Jazz did the right thing bringing you here. This house is exactly where you need to be.”
When I glance back at them, Lynea is looking at Archer in challenge.
The other man holds her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Yes, you should stay, for now. Until we find somewhere more appropriate.” He frowns then. “We don’t have a female wing, as such, and we’re short on space. I’ll see what I can do about arranging suitable accommodations for you, but you may have to make do with sleeping on a couch for tonight.”
“She can stay in my room,” Jazz jokes. The look Archer gives him would make plants wither. “But she won’t,” he continues.
“No, she won’t,” Archer says with a note of finality.
My heart sinks a little in disappointment. The first guy to really see me, ever, and we’ve got the equivalent of a strict parent watching over us.
Lynea interrupts my thoughts. “Go get some dinner in the kitchen. We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow.”
Part of me wants to be stubborn and insist on discussing it now, but another part of me, the part that struggles to hold back a yawn, is longing for a soft surface to stretch out on. Even if it is a couch.
6
Jazz shows me to a bathroom where I wash up, avoiding more than a quick glance in the mirror that confirms my eyes are gray once more. I wander in the direction of the kitchen Jazz had pointed out, hoping for some food, or at least some coffee. When I step through the door, I almost walk straight into someone. I stare wide-eyed at the guy who’s staring right back at me. He’s handsome and somewhat familiar, though I’m certain I’ve never set eyes on him before. I feel a pull toward him, and I know he feels the same when he leans in toward me.
From behind him, I hear Jazz’s voice.
“Come on in, Indy. Oh, hey, you haven’t met Ben yet, have you?”
The guy blocking my path steps to the side, and Jazz moves into view.
“Indy, Ben. Ben, Indy.” Jazz waves his hands from me to the guy and back. “And we’re done.”
“Good introduction,” I comment dryly.
“Thanks, I’ve been practicing.”
I turn my warmest smile on Ben. Any friend of Jazz’s is a friend of mine.
“Hi, I’m Indy. It’s nice—”
Before I can get another word out, Ben steps around me and out the door.
I stare after him, my mind slow to follow.
“…to meet you?”
“Don’t take it personally.” Jazz catches me by the elbow and guides me toward the table. “Ben can be a little… unfriendly.”
“Is Ben your brother?”
I’m casting around for some reason to explain the familiarity.
“No. We’re not related. But we grew up together. Our moms were close friends.”
“Were they both spellcasters?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Ben’s father’s family are clairvoyants. My dad’s the shifter. At least, so I’m told.”
There’s a long story behind that simple statement, but I decide it’s not the time to pry. The smell of food wafting across the room is as good a distraction as any.
“Lynea said something about dinner?”
“Oh, yeah.” Jazz turns toward the kitchen, waving for me to follow. “You’re in luck; Peter’s on cooking duty this week. His lasagna is the stuff of legend.”
Jazz shows me where the glasses and cutlery are, and I get us some water while he dishes up a huge portion of the delicious-smelling dish. My mouth is watering before we even sit down at the nearby table.
“There’s a dining room next door,” Jazz says, gesturing with his fork as he picks it up. “But it can feel a little empty where there’s only a few of us eating.”
“I like it in here,” I tell him. “It’s cozy.”
“This place used to be a lot busier. They had three times as many people living here, and lots more who lived outside but worked in the guild.”
“So there was a girl’s wing at some point?”
Jazz makes a face at my question.
“Like Lynea said, female half-bloods are rare. They’ve always been.”
No need for a girl’s wing, then.
“So Lynea’s not…”
“Oh, she is. She’s a half-caster, half-shifter like me. Cat-shifter, though. Not a wolf.”
“What about Archer?”
“He’s a spellcaster, through and through.”
“Then how’d he end up running a guild for half-bloods?”
“That’s a long story.”
Jazz is looking less and less comfortable with the direction of our conversation, so I tuck into my lasagna and drop it for now.
Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t eaten for hours, but the food tastes amazing, and I’m staring down at an empty plate in no time.
“I like a woman with a good appetite,” Jazz says with a grin. “There’s seconds if you want.”
“Don’t tempt me. If I eat any more, my stomach might burst.”
“It’d be worth every bite,” Jazz says with conviction.
I’m just about to reply when Lynea steps through the door.
“Good news. Archer has found you a room for tonight. You’re spared an uncomfortable night’s sleep on the games room couch.”
Jazz winces. “Ouch, yeah, that would be a long night. Where’s Archer stashing her?”
“Somewhere you won’t find her,” she says archly, gesturing me toward her. “Don’t worry about the dishes,” she adds when I go to pick mine up. “Jasper will take care of them.”
“Sure I will.” Jazz is undeterred by Lynea’s sharp manner. “Sweet dreams, Indy. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Shaking my head, I offer him a goodnight as I grab my bags and follow Lynea from the room.
“So, you teach defensive arts?” I ask, wan
ting to get some answers to my growing pile of questions and hoping for a paint-by-numbers level of explanation.
“Yes. I train those under our tutelage on how to best utilize their individual talents to defend themselves. It’s a key part of our training philosophy. It’s most important that our students are able to keep themselves safe.”
“The world of magic is a dangerous place, huh?”
I sense there’s more to it than that and hope she’ll explain.
“It can be, as you’ve seen. But it’s different for half-bloods.”
There’s something about the way she says it that makes it sound… personal.
“Different how? Are you all persona non grata in the magic world?” I remember the way the vampires spoke to Jazz, like his half-blood status was a mark against him.
She hesitates, and I wonder if the explanation is simpler.
“Do you have half-blood kids?”
I can tell it’s the wrong question the second I ask it, the tension visible in her body.
“No,” she says tightly. “No children.”
I don’t ask any more questions, letting silence fall between us, but I resolve to quiz Jazz about it later.
We climb a flight of stairs onto the second floor and walk along a corridor, stopping at the bottom of another set of stairs.
“You’re up here,” she says, pointing.
She must see something in my face as I look up the dark, foreboding staircase, because she turns on the light and starts up it. I trail after her, finding that it doesn’t look half as scary once we’re standing on the landing. There are three doors, each nondescript, giving no hint as to what lies behind them.
“Those two are storage,” Lynea says, gesturing to the doors on the left. The door on the right she pushes open, switching on yet another set of lights.
I don’t know what I’m expecting, but it’s not this.
“Wow. It’s beautiful.”
It’s easily twice the size of the bedroom in my tiny apartment, but the decor is far nicer than any room I’ve ever called my own.
“Are all the rooms like this?”
Lynea looks uncomfortable at the question.
“No. No, they aren’t.” She points to another door, on the left side of the room. “There’s an en suite bathroom through there.”
“My own bathroom, huh?” I step toward it as Lynea heads back to the landing.
She pauses at the door. “If you need anything, Jazz’s room is the second on the left downstairs.” Her knowing look says it all, and I don’t know whether to blush or smile. Either way, I think I like her.
“Goodnight, Indy.”
“Goodnight,” I call after her, setting my bags down on the bed. It’s queen-sized with a duvet cover, a mountain of pillows, and a blanket neatly folded at the end. The decor tells me it’s definitely a woman’s room, the colors and the furniture subtly hinting at it. But it seems strange that they’d just have this room sitting here, lying empty. Have I put someone out of their bedroom for the night?
My worries fall to the wayside when I open the bathroom door and see inside. There’s a bath, an actual bath. Every surface gleams; it’s like it’s never been used before. Or maybe someone here has a magical talent for cleaning.
Heading back into the bedroom, I grab a top and some shorts and get ready for bed. I avoid the mirror in the bathroom and the one in the bedroom, knowing I won’t sleep if I see stranger’s eyes in my reflection. No matter how many times I tell myself it isn’t real, it still scares the heck out of me.
I switch off the lights and climb into bed, stretching out on the spacious mattress. Closing my eyes, I’m asleep in seconds.
7
Part of me is convinced my ‘veil of invisibility’ will return at any moment, but when three different people stop to greet me as I make my way downstairs the next morning, I start to suspect that it’s really and truly gone. I almost miss it. Almost.
I wander into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway when I spot both Jazz and Ben at the table. I consider ducking back out, but Jazz catches sight of me before I can.
“Morning, Indy.”
He glances at Ben, but the other man studiously ignores me as I step into the room. Jazz does something I can’t see, causing Ben to jerk and look up, and then roll his eyes and turn to me. “Good morning.”
The words are forced out begrudgingly but they’re something.
I manage a small smile in return.
“Morning. What’s for breakfast?”
Jazz gestures toward the kitchen with both hands. “Help yourself. We’ve got bagels, cereal, toast, or bacon and eggs if you feel like cooking.”
Low-effort breakfast sounds like my kind of speed this morning so I grab a bagel, slice it in half and stick it in the toaster. I turn around and lean against the counter while I wait, watching the guys eat.
Jazz turns in his chair so he can see me. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a log. I don’t know what that mattress is made of, but that was the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.”
“Mattress? I thought they’d found you a more comfortable couch to bunk on.”
“No, Lynea put me in the room upstairs.”
Jazz frowns at that and even Ben turns to look at me. I’m surprised when he actually speaks to me of his own volition.
“The third floor?”
“Yeah. Why?”
The guys give each other a look.
“Nothing,” Jazz says quickly.
“Tell me.”
I’m getting tired of unanswered questions.
“It’s just a rumor.”
“What rumor?” I ignore the toaster when it pops behind me.
Jazz is reluctant to answer my question, but I’m not letting up. It’s Ben who replies, looking perturbed. “You met Archer last night, right?”
“Tall guy, head of the guild, no fun? Yeah, we met.”
There’s a flicker of a grin on Ben’s face, there and gone in an instant.
“He had a kid, a daughter, who died a really long time ago. It was meant to have been hers, or so the rumor goes.”
But that makes no sense. Archer isn’t that old, maybe in his forties. If he’d had a daughter a long time ago and kept her room the same… it would have been a kid’s room. There’d have been unicorns and rainbows on the wallpaper, and maybe a princess bed, and teddy bears and toys.
I don’t share my thoughts with the guys, instead turning around and putting my bagel onto a plate. I join them at the table, and I can’t help but notice how Ben inches his chair away from me when I sit down. What is his problem?
“It’s not catching. Whatever it is you think is wrong with me.”
That earns me a confused look from Jazz. There’s a moment when I think Ben is going to say something, but all he does is push back his chair and stride from the room.
I make a face and look over at Jazz. “Something I said? I’m really not a morning person.”
“It’s not you, it’s him.”
“So you’ve said. But I still kind of feel it’s me.”
“Trust me, it’s not. Ben is a… complicated person.”
Aren’t most people? It doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse to be a jerk to someone he only just met.
My attention turns to breakfast and the heavenly cup of coffee before me, until it occurs to me that I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
“Hey, so, what’s the plan for today? I mean, I’m here at the guild, I’m safe. What now?”
I need to find a new job, a more permanent living arrangement, and avoid getting killed by vampires in the process.
Jazz sets down his coffee and opens his mouth to reply, only to be beaten to the punch by Lynea, who strides through the door. That woman has oddly perceptive timing.
“You’re with me for the morning, Indy. Archer has asked me to do an assessment of your skills and start some basic training to see about making sure you can keep yourself alive.”
Lynea ignores my grumbling.
“Sure, but you’re not in the human world anymore. Life just got a lot more deadly.”
Jazz weighs in. “Yeah, there’s like a… casual danger in the magic world. By virtue of everyone having their fair share of preternatural power.”
“Sounds like I’d be safer back in the human world,” I mutter sullenly before straightening in my chair. “What if you’re wrong about me being a half-blood? Or an anything? Maybe it was just some bloodthirsty vampires making up a story to have an excuse to bite me.”
Jazz deflects that easily. “Still wouldn’t explain your glamours. Your eyes are back to gray this morning.”
I’ve been avoiding mirrors as best I can, so I hadn’t noticed.
“What if Archer’s right and someone else put those glamours on me?” Who and why would do that, I don’t have the first clue.
“The way they renew like that tells us they’re being powered by magic, and strong magic at that.” Lynea taps her foot impatiently. “You’re not wearing an amulet or any other potential source of magical power. Which means you are the source of that power. Whether you accept it or not, you have magic in your blood. So, let’s see what you can do with it.”
She makes it sound almost… exciting. Instead of a scary burden that I’ve been forced to bear.
“Fine.” I push to my feet, carrying my plate and cup back into the kitchen and stacking them in the dishwasher. No one can say I’m an inconsiderate guest. When I turn back around, Lynea is already by the door, clearly eager to get going. I force a smile onto my face and follow her.
“Can you work out in those clothes?” She looks me up and down as we step out into the corridor. I’m wearing leggings, a long T-shirt, and some sneakers. Just the kind of clothes to wear when running away from scary monsters. I wasn’t going to be that girl in the horror movie who tries to run in high heels, twists her ankle, and gets horribly murdered for her trouble. Nope, not me.
