“We can offer him the box, and then stall for time. Becket said the scroll probably won’t last long before it breaks, and without Karim to try and extend its life… by the time he gets the box, it’ll be useless.”
A moment passed, and nobody questioned my intention to let the scroll fall apart if it meant we’d get Karim back. I wasn’t about to tell them, but that fact alone was enough to fill me with a kind of pride and warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“You realize, as soon as he figures out he’s been duped, he’s going to want to kill us,” Axel said.
“Yeah, did you forget he already wants to eat my heart? Pretty sure he’s going to try and kill me no matter what.” I looked around the room. “So, are we happy with the three-two vote?”
RJ reluctantly nodded. Danvers rolled her eyes and nodded also. “I guess,” she said.
“Good.” I turned to look at Axel. “This is a party, right?”
“It is,” he said.
“Then we need to find something to wear.”
“Formalwear is usually encouraged at such an event,” Becket said, startling the hell out of me. He was standing by the stairs, and had clearly been listening to us speak.
“How long have you been there?” I asked, perking up, “I’ve needed to talk to you all day.”
“I know, but I’ve had things to deal with as well. Going to the Athenaeum is a good move. Asmodius will have no other recourse but to talk whilst there.”
“Alright, so it’s settled,” Danvers said, “But we still need clothes.”
“I have an idea,” I said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Even before I met Axel, I wasn’t a stranger to black tie events and obnoxiously extravagant properties. Kandi was never the kind of girl to allow herself to be lured in by young men wrapped in expensive suits, promising her unimaginable riches. Those were the kind of guys she knew to steer clear of. But she had on occasion been invited to parties and formal events by some of the older gentlemen who on occasion stopped by the Glittered Goddess.
It was my experience that, the older the guy was, the more harmless he was. These men weren’t driven by dark desires. Usually they were widowers, or recent divorcees who simply wanted to have a beautiful girl on their arm for the night. Someone to show off to their rich, old friends. I would dress up for the night, show up, chat, and flirt, and when the party was over, I’d leave with a bunch more cash than when I went into the place.
It was flattering and lucrative, but it also gave me a taste for nice things. As a dancer, I made more money than I would’ve made at any job I could’ve possibly taken up at the time. And whenever one of these older men would hire me out for the night, my income would soar. That meant I could afford to buy more expensive jewelry, more enticing perfume, and the kind of lingerie that could turn otherwise stoic, resolute men into dogs eager for my scraps.
Those days were behind me now, but I still owned some—not all—of the armory I’d collected over the years. The red bottomed heels, the figure-hugging silk dresses, the lacy French lingerie; they sat in my closet like weapons ready to be pulled out and used as the moment demanded.
I had to promise Danvers she could pick something out to wear tonight in exchange for her escort back to my place—we never went anywhere alone, not since the heist. It had been weeks since that night, and if not for the fact I now knew I had demon bodyguards keeping me not only safe, but also hidden from magical senses, I probably wouldn’t have come here.
She’d resisted coming at first, but once I showed her my extensive collection, I didn’t think she’d ever want to leave. I also didn’t think a lot of my clothes would fit her, what with her being still technically a teenager and me… not being one.
“I may never leave this apartment,” Danvers said, admiring her form in the standing mirror in my bedroom. “Can we just stay here instead of going back to Becket’s?”
I smiled at her. “I’ve missed being here, that’s for sure.”
Danvers then caught sight of the chrome pole I kept in my living room. “Holy hell, is that a stripper pole?” she asked, rushing over to it.
“Only skeevy guys call it that… but yeah, it is.”
She spun around it, but couldn’t quite get the hang of how it worked. She kept trying to pull herself along it with her arms, when really there was so much more to it than that. “This is awesome,” she said, “I can’t believe you just have one of these.”
“Girl’s gotta practice somewhere, right?” I asked, “Anyway, get down from there—you’re gonna hurt yourself and I can’t deal with that tonight.”
Danvers slid off the pole and walked back into my bedroom. “I guess you’re right,” she said, “But I totally want lessons.”
“You wanna dance?”
“Why the hell not? Looks like fun.”
“Another time, maybe once we figure out whether or not this place has been tapped. For all we know there are cameras hiding around.”
“We looked everywhere and didn’t find any bugs except for that dead roach in the sink.”
I shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”
“Seriously? This is New York city. You can’t expect me to believe bugs gross you out.”
“They don’t gross me out, I just happen to not like cockroaches. Especially the ones that can fly.”
Danvers chuckled at her own reflection. “It’s funny.”
“What is?”
“Back when I was a kid—”
“—you are basically a kid.”
She glared at me. “Shut up and let me tell you a funny story.”
I went back to picking out my own outfit. “Continue,” I said.
Danvers paused. I could still feel the heat of her glare, but then it went away, and she kept talking. “So, when I was a kid, back when my family used to live in a squat, I used to keep them as pets. I even used to name them.”
I cringed. “Ew. Why? And, how?”
She giggled again. “I’d number them with whiteout, so I’d know who they were. Every couple of days, I’d find a new one scurrying around, so I’d grab it, and number it, and name it.” She paused to think. She started giggling again. “I just remembered, I used to race my roaches.”
“You used to race them?”
“Sometimes, when I got bored, I’d build tracks out of boxes, plates, pencils, anything I could find for them to race around. I’d keep score sheets and everything.”
“That’s… kinda cute, but also pretty disgusting. And maybe illegal? I don’t know.”
Danvers scoffed. “Illegal? Racing cockroaches? Get out of here.”
“If it’s not illegal, it should be, because… gross.” Another shudder ran through me at the thought of grabbing a roach with my bare hands and marking it with whiteout.
“Let me see… there were Poe and Lovecraft… Shelley, Barker, Dickens, Doyle—and King, obviously.”
“You named them after authors?”
“Oh, I love books. Horror stories are my favorite. There was this little book stand on the corner of my block who sold second hand books; all the books I could want for a dollar. He’d only come around once every few weeks, I guess, and I’d head down there with my single dollar and grab as many as my little hands could carry.”
“Wait a sec,” I said, turning around with a dress in my hand. “When did you live in a squat?”
“My parents didn’t always have money. We had some pretty humble beginnings, matter of fact. That dollar I used to spend on those books, if I didn’t find one on the street every now and then, I probably wouldn’t have had it that week.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “And by find on the street, you mean lifted out of someone’s wallet?”
“Not always, but sometimes. Times were tough. I mean, my parents are complete assholes, but I like to think they started doing what they do to try and get us out of poverty.”
“Do you believe that?”
Danvers pulled her hair up into a tight bun. “My parents
are locked up in Harrowgate. I probably won’t see them again, and if I do, it won’t exactly be a happy family reunion. I know they’re greedy fucks who don’t care about anyone else, but they weren’t always that way. Remembering that helps me live with the name I carry.”
“Ever think of changing it?”
“No. Not really. I like Danvers. Got a cool ring to it, and most people are afraid of it.”
I smiled at her. “I can’t argue with that… anyway, what do you think of this?”
Danvers turned around, scanned the dress I was holding up, and grinned. “I think he’s gonna love it.”
My jaw dropped. “He?”
“Please, don’t act like you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. I know you and captain fancy pants have something going on.”
“There’s nothing going on between captain—Axel—and me. We’re friends.”
“Deny it if you want, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you, you’ve seen it too, and I know you well enough to know you like it.” She shrugged. “You could do worse.”
I stared at her; gawked at her. I was about to argue with her a little more, try and convince her she didn’t know what she was talking about, but this was Danvers. She was as sharp as a knife and as stubborn as a bull. There’d be no way of budging her from her insane thoughts even if I tried. And they were insane.
Axel and I didn’t have a thing. How could we? He was the son of a mob boss, the former heir of the biggest magical crime syndicate in all of New York. I was little more than a common thief. Not to mention the niggling little detail that his father wanted to kill me and eat my heart. If I knew what was good for me, I would stay the hell away from him.
I decided instead to focus on preparing for tonight’s event. There were several stages to getting ready for something like this, and so far, all I’d done was pick out a dress to wear. It was a great dress, though. Black, strapless, and floor-length; gossamer and lace. One of my favorites.
Danvers picked out a floaty red dress, with a skirt made of layers of soft tulle. She held her hair in a neat pony tail, painted her lips red, and added a touch of darkness to her eyes. I had no doubt she was going to turn heads tonight, but that was perfect. The more eyes she could draw to herself, the fewer that would be on me, and the easier I could blend in.
RJ and Axel were both waiting for us downstairs by the time we left the apartment, both men wearing classic black suits with white shirts and black ties. Axel extended his hand as I arrived at the edge of the sidewalk. With the other, he opened his passenger door and helped me inside. RJ did the same for Danvers, helping her into his car. Given where we were going and who we were likely to run into, we’d decided to take separate cars to the Caucus just in case.
“You look… stunning,” Axel said, settling into the seat.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice a low purr. Like an inner demon, or an alter ego, I could feel Kandi rising to the surface. Her confidence, her mannerisms, the way she spoke and moved. It wasn’t a subtle change, but it was something I had little control over.
Axel cleared his throat as he shut the door. He walked around the front of his car, got into the driver’s seat, and pulled us out onto the road. A moment later, RJ was on the road behind us, a quick flash of his headlights to confirm he was with us.
“If my father…” Axel started to say, but then he stopped himself.
“If your father… what?” I asked.
“He’s going to try and get into your head.”
“Stronger men than him have tried.”
Axel glanced at me, an eyebrow cocked. “Is that you, Kandi?”
“Depends,” I said, checking myself out in the mirror above the dash. “Who do you want me to be?”
A pause. “I want you to be the best version of yourself. Do whatever you can to keep my father from manipulating you. He’s good at this.”
“He’s a Psionic, like you, but he’s forbidden from using his magic, right?”
“That’s right. Athenaeum is hallowed ground; not even the Praetors can use their magic there.”
“Then he’ll have to try to manipulate me the old-fashioned way, and in that arena, he doesn’t stand a chance.”
Axel drew in a deep, nervous breath and concentrated on the road. “I hope you’re right…”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We drove until the city lights of New York were little more than a suggestion against the dark horizon. The skyscrapers of Manhattan Island tucked under low-hanging clouds the color of bruises. I had no idea where we were going. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left the city, couldn’t remember the last time I breathed air as fresh as this.
We’d jumped off the highway and gotten onto a lonely road flanked on both sides by thick woods. I could smell the ocean from here, the dew forming on wild grass, trees, and flowers. There wasn’t a police siren within earshot, no sounds of cars backfiring, or horns blaring. This was a natural place, almost untouched by human hands except for the road we were driving on.
And at the end of that road, a magnificent structure; a monolith in the dark. It looked like a gothic temple. A square building with hordes winged horses—Pegasi—adorning its highest parapets. At the center, a tall spire rose into the sky, the spire itself topped with a dome surrounded by angels bearing trumpets.
The angels reminded me of Seline, an old Aevian acquaintance of mine. I didn’t get to see much of her anymore. Aevians and mages didn’t really get along. Natives, they called my kind. We called them Outsiders. There was a kind of natural animosity between our kinds; we couldn’t see each other without wanting to kill one another.
It was an urge. Maybe psychological, or maybe it was magical, but it was there. The only way to get over it was to meet with the same person over and over again until it went away. But that’s easier said than done, especially for the weak of will. Seline and I had broken that wall a long time ago, but she was busy running the Obsidian Order, last I heard.
Maybe I’ll reach out one day, I thought, when this is all over.
Axel pulled the car up to the front of the building. Despite its gloomy façade, the Athenaeum was well lit on the outside. Spotlights shone upwards into the faces of the Pegasi and the angels. Along the driveway, smaller lights illuminated the asphalt and some of the surrounding grass. And there, at the top of the Athenaeum itself—I hadn’t seen it until now—a pentacle made of blue fire burned against the night sky.
It looked like a star; not like a pentacle, but like a brilliant ball of celestial fire we’d stolen from the heavens and brought down here. I marveled at it, couldn’t take my eyes off it. I’d never seen anything so openly magical before. Already I could feel the power of this place electrifying my skin, sending my senses into overdrive. It was like getting too close to a generator, feeling its power buzzing through you.
Axel brought the car right up to the door, where a valet waited to drive it the rest of the way to the parking lot just out of view. I took his arm and started walking along a cobblestone path toward the door, catching sight of RJ and Danvers making their approach just as I reached the beautiful, wooden, double doors at the entrance.
A doorman waited to greet us on the way in. I let Axel do all the talking. He introduced himself, and then he introduced me only as Kandi, which I was grateful for. I didn’t want to use my real name here, not yet. Once through the front door, we were shown into a small, modest foyer with another set of double doors on the other side of it.
In here, two Magistrate Legionnaires—neither of which I recognized—made sure we weren’t carrying weapons and read us the rules of the Athenaeum. There were only two. No magic of any kind, and no violence of any kind. After accepting the Legionnaires’ rules, the doors to the Athenaeum itself opened.
Soft, orchestral music wafted through the open door, as did the heady aroma of freshly cooked food, and even alcohol. Directly beyond the little foyer was a grand hall with a vaulted ceiling that looked like a hollowed-out cathedral, com
plete with gold furnishings and marble columns rising all the way up.
Between the columns there was more than enough room for the many attendees to move around, to drink, to talk. But it didn’t look like the party was constrained to this room. Massive arches led into different parts of the Athenaeum, which people were freely flitting in and out of.
“How do you feel?” Axel asked, as we walked deeper into the gathering of mages.
“Like I’m charging million dollars an hour for my company,” I said, “How about you?”
“That’s a little steep, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure I can find someone else who can afford me in here…”
I felt Axel’s bicep squeeze a little. “That won’t be necessary. Actually, I have something for you.”
“For me?”
Axel gently urged me to turn around and look at him. From his pocket he produced his mother’s choker with the amber jewels, and my heart quickened. “Axel… I can’t.”
“Please,” he insisted, “It belongs on a pretty neck, like yours.”
I couldn’t deny him. I just couldn’t. Turning around again, Axel gently clasped the choker to my neck. His hands were warm and soft, his touch sending delightful ripples down my spine. When he was done, I faced him again, lightly touching the gemstones with my fingertips.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Beautiful…” Axel said, his voice trailing off.
Swallowing, I craned my head around and scanned the room. “Any sign of your father?”
“None. But we should move around the place. There are people here who know our family. I don’t want to risk any of them stopping us to talk.”
“How about you give me a tour? This place looks huge, and you said it’s part library, part museum. I’d love to see some of the stuff in here.”
Axel pointed with his free hand. “This way, then.”
A server came up to us holding a silver tray—on it, long-stemmed champagne glasses. “For the monsieur and mademoiselle?” he asked.
Soul of the Storm (The Wardbreaker Book 2) Page 8
