by Bella Klaus
I exhaled a relieved breath and tried to figure out how Aunt Arianna had managed to infuse it in my blood and why it hadn’t already killed me. She must have accessed some high-level spells or have bartered something valuable to obtain that knowledge, and I hoped Kain would find her so she could move it out of my system. If he didn’t, I was stuck. A healer like the one who had helped Beatrice was out of the question. They would report me immediately to the enforcers, and I’d be back in the Supernatural Council building, facing execution.
Several minutes later, the door opened, and Kain slipped inside.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“Are you sure it was the stack of houses sandwiched between the red roses and the house with the purple grapes?”
“Of course,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”
Kain started up the engine. “It was empty. Not even a hairball.”
I bit down on my lip. The enforcers didn’t clear people’s houses when making their arrests, so either Aunt Arianna and the coven had decided to leave Logris to escape the implications of Valentine rising from the dead, or they’d enchanted themselves invisible.
Curiosity thrummed through my insides, and I longed to see for myself. With my ability to sense magic, I would know what they had done, but I couldn’t take the risk.
“If you’re really irresistible to vampires, you need to get out of Logris before someone smells you.”
“Right,” I muttered because Kain was right. Even staying in Striga carried the risk that a vampire might catch my scent and follow after the car. “Let’s drive to the edge of Queen’s Road and see if we can make a gap through the wards.”
“Or we can take the royal exit,” Kain said, his voice dry.
I shook the cobwebs out of my brain. “Of course.”
Back when Valentine and I were courting, he would take me into the human world for evenings out in London. I slumped in my hiding place and sighed. The first time I saw a world full of people without magic had been like finding my own race of supernaturals. Humans seemed to care more about the factors a person could influence, such as their attire, and the way they carried themselves. They didn’t give a damn about what a person had thrumming in their veins.
Three years of living in the human world had dispelled my idealized view of humans. There were good and bad, just like in any other supernatural race, and there were no shortage of snobs willing to judge a person for something they couldn’t control. However, during those first visits with Valentine, having people treat us both with equal amounts of respect had made me feel special.
Kain continued along the public gardens and around the perimeter of Striga, making sure to avoid vampire territory until we reached a part of the border farthest away from where we had escaped the Inferno hounds. Several feet before the border, we approached a copse of flowering jasmine trees, and I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Pull over and fill your trunk with branches.”
He stopped the car and turned around, casting me a frown. “Because?”
“It’s the only way I’ll get through vampire territory without someone sniffing my scent.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Do you want to take the risk?”
“Alright.” Kain stepped out of his car, walked into the trees, and uprooted a seven-foot-high sapling with long branches that drooped to the ground. After breaking it in half and then quarters, he walked back, opened his trunk and threw the pieces inside with several thuds.
By now, only the barest trace of sunlight streamed in from the distant trees that made up the border of Logris, and the shadows stretched across the street and into the gardens opposite. Casting several furtive glances from left to right and through the car’s back window, I opened the car door and stepped out into the road.
“Happy now?” he asked.
I edged around him, scrambled into the trunk, and settled on top of the broken tree. “Close it.”
Kain looked like he was suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, but at least the anguish had eased from his features, replaced by the lightness of hope. He shut me into the trunk, encasing me in the dark and the fragrant smell of jasmine.
Waxy leaves rustled against my skin, and I was sure some of the bugs living within the small tree were now crawling through my hair, but none of that mattered. I hadn’t been lying to Kain when I said I had a plan—I just hadn’t formulated it until now.
As Kain drove me over the straight roads that surrounded vampire territory, I forced deep breaths in and out of my lungs. Border control around Logris meant having one’s vehicle searched for magical items, but not the royal exits. Kain was Valentine’s heir and possibly the next king now that everyone thought Valentine dead. No one would give him trouble if he wanted to spend time in the human world… as long as they didn’t smell my scent.
To take my mind off things, I thought through my plan. Istabelle knew everything about crystals and would be able to direct me to someone who could remove the firestone from my blood. With my new power, I could burn away the curse on my blood and return to Valentine with my powers intact. After restoring him to life…
My mind went blank.
Even though he had assured me the Supernatural Council wouldn’t want to start a war with a powerful fire user, everything about their conduct earlier today said they would support my recapture and execution. I didn’t have the same amount of faith in the Council’s sense of justice as Valentine.
Several minutes later, pinpricks of magic stabbed at my body, indicating that we had passed through the wards and entered the human world. Kain continued driving for a few more minutes before stopping the car and opening the trunk.
I blinked up into Kain’s stern features. Tall street lights illuminated his ruffled blonde hair, making him look as though he had tugged on it the entire journey. Traffic rumbled in the distance, but we appeared to be in an out-of-the-way spot.
“Where are we?” I asked.
He reached into the trunk and grabbed my arm. “The Kingston Asda.”
I gulped. That was only three miles away from Richmond Park—not that vampires would ever visit a bargain supermarket.
To my left was a sprawling parking lot large enough to fit over four hundred cars. It was half-full, with passengers pushing trolleys of bagged groceries through long walkways. I turned to the right to find a supermarket the size of a small block with a huge, green sign over an entrance of vaulted glass.
“What now?” Kain asked.
I stretched out a hand. “Can I use your phone?”
As soon as he gave me his handset, I called the crystal shop. It took a single word for Istabelle to know it was me on the other end of the line. “Stay away from Central London,” she hissed. “Enforcers are crawling the streets, looking for you.”
Chapter Three
Istabelle’s warning hit me like a bucket of cold water to the face. I wasn’t sure if it meant that Valentine’s brothers were still too busy fighting Valentine to have reported sighting me to the Supernatural Council or if the enforcers had decided that I would return to Mayfair after my prison break. Either way, things weren’t looking hopeful for my plan to get Istabelle to help me remove the firestone from my blood.
Cars drove past where we’d stopped in the Asda parking lot, and a few of the shoppers pushing trolleys full of bagged groceries frowned at us as they passed. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I let Kain help me out of the trunk and set me on my feet.
“You still haven’t said what we’re going to do next.” He shut the trunk and folded his arms across his chest.
As a baby vampire on the cusp of getting his fangs, he would have heard every single word Istabelle had said about the enforcers. I had to think fast, or Kain would give up on me. Perhaps I could reach Istabelle via a trustworthy third party?
“There’s a place I can go that’s safe.” After dusting myself off and shaking the debris from my hair, I walked through the narrow gap between Kain’s car and
the red Ford Escort on the left. As he’d already left the door unlocked, I opened it a crack and eased myself inside, trying not to scratch the paintwork of the car parked beside Kain’s.
Kain slipped into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. “Is there another Master of Crystals who can help us?”
“No.” I leaned forward to where he mounted his smartphone to the dashboard, fired up his Google Maps app, and tapped in Beatrice’s postcode.
The app worked out a route. It would take twelve minutes to reach Wimbledon, and we would avoid any of the entrances and exits to Logris.
After studying the route, Kain pulled out of the parking space and drove the twisting route around the parked cars and supermarkets, until we exited onto the five-lane stretch that was London Road. “A witch or a wizard, then?”
I bit my lip. “She’s a friend.”
“A Neutral like you?” he asked in a voice laden with incredulity.
I bristled. He’d only been in the Supernatural World for three years, and he had already adopted some of the prejudices of magic wielders. Tamping down my annoyance, I said, “Actually, she’s a human I can trust not to read any messages she’ll relay to Istabelle.”
This was my plan B. Most of Istabelle’s customers were humans looking for new age solutions to their problems, which could come in the form of crystals, herbs, tinctures, or even books and services, such as sound baths. Beatrice worked around the corner from the Crystal Shop, and she could easily slip inside to buy an innocuous item that contained a message from Istabelle.
Kain nodded with a grunt of approval. “You’ll use her as your courier?”
“I wouldn’t put it so bluntly.” I stared out of the window as we veered right into Combe Lane, a long but narrow stretch of road consisting of mostly two-story houses. “All I need is a name or a phone number for someone who can remove the firestone from my blood. My friend won’t be in any danger.”
We continued for another two miles in silence. Street lamps illuminated our way, and heavy traffic slowed our progress. Seven o’clock was the tail end of rush hour, even in Outer London, as most people who worked in the center couldn’t afford to live there. It was also the reason why I never stayed over at Beatrice’s house on weekdays. There was no point squeezing onto a crowded bus or train and enduring a ninety-minute journey when everything in London was a short taxi ride away from my studio flat in Mayfair.
My heart sank as I thought about the life I’d left behind. It was a pity the past three years had been marred with heartbreak. I hadn’t made the most of my time in London because I’d been so determined to wipe the memory of Valentine from my mind. Regret rolled in my belly like a boulder and I cursed whoever had tampered with my memory. Because of them, I’d also been oblivious to the dangerous magic simmering in my soul.
Google Maps directed Kain into The Causeway, a tree-lined stretch of road that ran alongside Wimbledon Common. The traffic here was sparse, with only a few vehicles passing us as they left the wide expanse of parkland.
Kain pulled into the gravel courtyard of Beatrice’s apartment block, a sprawling mews house painted white with sash windows. Antique lanterns hung at strategic points around its L-shaped structure, illuminating its Georgian architecture.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
He turned to me with his brows raised. “What now?”
“It might take a few days to free myself of the firestone.”
“But you’ll contact me as soon as you do?” he asked.
I nodded. “Can I take your number?”
Kain leaned across the driver’s seat to open the glove compartment, and pulled out a notepad and pen. After scrawling his email address and phone number on a lined sheet, he tore it off and handed it to me. “Call me every day with your progress.”
“I will.”
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thick wallet. “Use this to pay a healer.”
I shook my head. “But it’s your money—”
“It’s Valentine’s,” he said. “Whatever happens, you’ve got to bring him back.”
“Right.” I took the wallet, my chest swelling with hope. If there were cards in there, I wouldn’t have to worry about not being able to pay for help or bribe others into silence.
Kain nodded. “Good luck. I’m going to the mausoleum to see what I can do to help. Call me tonight, and I’ll give you an update.”
I stepped out onto the sidewalk, watching his tail lights as he turned his car around and disappeared back down The Causeway. Light shone through the windows of Beatrice’s apartment, and I headed for the front door and stopped at the entry phone. After tapping in her number, it rang three times before she replied.
“Beatrice?”
She paused. “Mera?”
My stomach dropped as a morbid thought struck through my mind. What if the enforcers had linked Beatrice’s visit to Accident and Emergency to my burgeoning fire magic? Wouldn’t they be stationed around here, too? I glanced over my shoulder for signs of Kain, but he’d already disappeared.
“Mera,” she repeated. “Is that you?”
I cleared my throat. “Is it safe for me to come in?”
The door buzzed, and a lock clicked. She hadn’t said no, but it wasn’t like I had any choices. Without my mobile, I was pretty much stranded, and if an enforcer was nearby, he or she would catch up with me within seconds if I decided to bolt down the road.
Sending a prayer to every deity—both real and imagined—I stepped over the threshold of Beatrice’s apartment building and down the hallway of wooden floors and white walls to the apartment at the end.
Beatrice poked her head out through the door and stared at me with her lips parted. She had already taken off her work clothes and settled into a burgundy lounge suit and fluffy pink slippers. Her dark brown hair fell down to her shoulders, framing wide brown eyes set within a heart-shaped face.
“What the hell happened?” She stretched out an arm and beckoned me close. “You’ve been missing for days.”
All thoughts of walking into an enforcer trap melted away, and relief flooded my veins, making my muscles relax. I continued across the hallway to my best friend. After my awful time in Logris, she was a more than welcome sight. As I reached the doorway, I wrapped my arms around her neck and inhaled the vanilla scent of her hair conditioner.
“Are you alright?” I murmured into her neck. “We took you to Accident and Emergency, then they admitted you, and the ward sister told us to come back during visiting hours. Then something came up—”
“Never mind me.” She pulled me into the apartment and stepped back with her hands on my shoulders.
I stood in the middle of her hallway, a square space large enough to fit a dining table but decorated with a red Kashtan rug and gorgeous paintings she had purchased during all her work-related business trips. There was a new one that depicted the Notre Dame on fire. I tore my gaze away from the painted flames and met her worried gaze.
“Sorry for not being there when you woke up. You must have been terrified.”
She waved the apology away and walked to the door that led to her living room. “I was the silly cow who overestimated my tolerance for saunas and shouldn’t have mixed it with all that champagne.”
My brows drew together. Who had implanted that memory in her mind, Valentine or Healer Dianne? Beatrice had only taken a few sips of a mimosa. “How are you feeling now?”
Beatrice opened the door and gestured for me to step inside. Like the rest of her apartment, the living room was a wide space of white walls and parquet floors nearly as large as my studio in Mayfair. A cream-colored three-seater sofa sat against the wall on the immediate left. On its right were two matching armchairs, and on the farthest left wall, a dining table for four and sash windows that overlooked the apartment’s communal gardens. An alcove recessed into the wall opposite the sofa held a large flat-screen television.
“I’ve been worried sick.” She gave my arm a tight
squeeze as though not quite believing I was real and in her apartment. “You weren’t at the crystal shop, and when I went round to your apartment, someone mentioned a large cat prowling Grosvenor Square. You even worried your stalker.”
I reared back. “Jonathan?”
“He was waiting for me outside work, wanting to know where you’d gone.”
A shudder ran down my spine. It didn’t matter what I’d gone through—Valentine’s death, the trial, the attack of the vampire princes, and Valentine’s resurrection as a heartless corpse—Jonathan still gave me the creeps.
“Let me put the kettle on, and you can tell me everything.” She disappeared into the hallway.
I lowered myself into the armchair and massaged my temples, trying to ease out an explanation that wouldn’t be too much of a lie but also wouldn’t endanger Beatrice with knowledge of the Supernatural World. Enforcers didn’t exactly kill humans who knew about us, but what they did to their minds was unforgivable. They didn’t care how much knowledge they scooped out as long as it protected our world, and they didn’t care if they took a human’s means to take care of themselves, either.
The sound of water running echoed from within the hallway, as did the click of a kettle and the opening and closing of a refrigerator and cupboard doors. I leaned across to the arm of the sofa and picked up the remote. It was one of those advanced ones that had the functionality of a small computer. Captain Zella hadn’t lied about how many days they had kept me unconscious because it was now Wednesday, which made sense considering the amount of time I spent in jail and in the mausoleum.
About ten minutes later, Beatrice appeared, holding a tray containing two steaming mugs of tea, scotch eggs, quiche slices, a pack of chocolate digestives, and two chocolate muffins. “You looked a bit hungry, so I thought I’d give you a bit of everything.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed a mug, eyed a muffin, but picked up a scotch egg and bit through its sausage-meat exterior. Breadcrumbs fell off my lips, and I hummed with appreciation at the explosion of spiced pork.
