“Do you know if you all had anything to do with cursing a mage by the name of Caspian?”
“Caspian, Caspian . . .” She repeated the name several times without appearing to recognize it.
“He was the original Raven Cursed. Punished for killing a witch when she wasn’t in human form. She’d transformed into a raven. The witches were said to have cursed Caspian, but they aren’t strong enough to perform a curse that would affect his entire bloodline. Do you know if the Caste intervened on the witches’ behalf?”
“We never intervened in the petty quarrels of mages and witches. They’re still at it. No, Caspian didn’t kill a witch, he killed one of us. There wasn’t any way that could go unpunished.”
Again, I got a peek into the malice Caste were capable of. They might have been self-absorbed, but they weren’t above vengeance. I sucked in a sharp breath.
“My grandmother told me stories of how the mages petitioned for only Caspian to be punished. The Caste agreed. You would have thought it would have stopped the animosity between witches and mages. After all, that’s what led to his curse.” She shrugged, making it quite evident she was done with our trek down memory lane.
She gave my attire another long sweeping look and then an approving nod. It didn’t matter if she liked the dress or not, it was functional. It allowed my little weapons to be hidden on my body, along with the weapons I had in my purse.
Taking the calming breath I needed to deal with her, I let a few moments tick by before I spoke. “Victoria, the full moon was almost a week ago. You’re hardly at risk of being taken. The Roboro gem was destroyed. I’ve checked all my sources; there aren’t any more. You’re safe. You really don’t need me here.”
She was safe, for now. I wasn’t sure for how long, but Immortalis had been searching for fifty years for a way to get back into the Veil. I suspected it would be another fifty before they could, because I had destroyed the object they were going to use. Victoria wouldn’t ever be completely safe because she was a descendent of the people who cursed the Immortalis. They would always need her blood to remove the curse but for now, she didn’t have to worry about it.
“Well you need to be here because I’m getting a feeling.”
I wouldn’t be able to get out of bodyguarding duties because her spidey senses were tingling. Victoria wanted me to protect her, so it appeared that I’d be spending my evening at Kelsey’s “guarding her,” despite the conspicuous guards already in the restaurant.
She abruptly stopped pacing around her expansive Parisian-inspired office. The cream-colored writing desk she lightly rested her fingertips on was just a few shades deeper than the walls. The luxurious rug in the middle of the floor had the same soft coral, beige, and blue hues as her silk shirt. With people like Victoria, it wasn’t hard to assume that her attire was deliberately chosen to exude the same effortless luxury, refined confidence, and importance as her office.
“For the past few days, it’s felt like someone here has been watching me. I want you here just in case,” she said, returning to clacking her three-inch heels over the hardwood floor.
For someone afraid of being abducted, it seemed like shoes she could run in would be the practical choice. But who was I to judge? No, I was judging.
“I don’t like feeling like this,” she went on. “I’ve had to hire protection for Pearl, too. Just in case they try to use her to get to me. I would hate someone to use my kitten against me.”
You can give her a pretty little collar and call her a kitten all you like, she’s still an apex predator. But sure, worry about your poor little kitty.
“She has claws and weighs a hundred pounds. I think she’ll be fine.” I attempted to sound assured but instead it came out derisive and condescending. Victoria shot me a narrowed glare. If she had the ability to curse, I probably would have earned it for that snide remark.
“She’s eighty-five pounds and a defenseless kitten,” she retorted.
Was she screwing with me? She had to be screwing with me, but seeing her distress I quickly realized she’d slipped into the land of delusion when it came to her cat.
“Of course. I understand. I’ll stay here tonight and look around and then I’ll have someone set up a Klipsen ward,” I offered. Klipsens were expensive wards that required a lot of magic and several days to set up. While most wards could be disabled with magic, using a number of techniques, Klipsens were very difficult to disable and kept people from Wynding in.
To satisfy Victoria, I did another surveillance of the restaurant exterior and the patrons. Standing outside Kelsey’s was a reminder of its exclusivity. The alabaster stone building stood out among the brown and tan buildings on the block. There were floor-to-ceiling windows in the front. A mere glimpse was all they afforded from the outside because strategically placed art gave the patrons privacy. If the swanky exterior hadn’t tipped me off that it was a posh establishment, the doorman that greeted me would have.
The outside was just a hint of the opulence customers were treated to inside. Cream-colored leather seats against dark wood, beautiful art on the walls, orbital lights adding to the contemporary look. The club’s interior was more modern than one would expect from the exterior, but everything about it touted exclusivity. A place to be—a place you wanted to be. Which was why the club was able to enforce its no cellphone rule. Texting or taking a call in the place got you banned. Whoever was privileged to perform received the patrons’ undivided attention.
Glass in hand, I walked through Kelsey’s, sipping from what had to be the best Sprite I’d ever had. It wasn’t. It was just a plain Sprite, like any of the others I’d had during my life. My drink served as a reminder of the effects of the D’Siren Victoria had in the restaurant, which amplified the experience. The man with the deep baritone voice, crooning at the piano, had ensnared the audience. They were hanging on to his every melodic tune, enraptured. I wondered if he was nearly as talented as his enthralled audience seemed to believe or whether it was another trick of the D’Siren.
Finally seated at the bar, I scanned the crowd; mostly supernaturals with a few humans intermingled. Magic inundated the spacious establishment. In the corner was a special section, with comfortable-looking club chairs giving the people seated a view of the crooner. It had a Great Gatsby vibe: the vivacity of the twenties and its aged charm, and Deco with a modern flair.
From my perch I had a good view of the large room. Taking a bite of the Key lime tart placed in front of me—an offering from Victoria, I assumed—I closed my eyes to savor the decadent mixture of sweet and tart, then shoved another large forkful in my mouth. It was sinfully delicious. When the bartender placed a glass of white wine in front of me, I took a small sip. Pinot Grigio. Crisp, with hints of lime and apple. While indulging in the heaven on my palate, I inhaled the flowers on the bar. They filled the air with sweet floral redolence.
Then I jerked my nose away and saw it for what it was—a plain, boring, run of the mill white tulip. The wine, nothing special, and the Key lime tart might have been from a box. In this house of mirrors, everything was an ambrosial experience full of decadence, delectable flavors, allure, and deception. I pushed that knowledge to the forefront and slid the tart and wine aside.
“You didn’t like the wine?” asked Asher’s smooth deep voice from behind me.
“I’m working, I really shouldn’t be indulging,” I said when he’d moved to position himself in front of me. The aged aromatic scent of the brandy in his hand was another deceptive thing about Kelsey’s. I enjoyed the way brandy smelled but never the taste. Each time he brought it to his lips, the glassy-eyed euphoria it brought him made me rethink it. I wanted to try it again, and this time I wasn’t going to discreetly spit it back into the glass.
“I figured you’d like the tart,” he said, looking at the plate. “After all, it’s your favorite.”
“How do you know it’s my favorite?” An edge of accusation swept over my words and I focused intently on him, looking f
or any signs that he was about to be deceitful.
“Our last job, I picked you up after you’d visited your mother. You smelled like Key lime pie, and if your visits with your parents are like most, I’m assuming one of them prepared your favorite dessert. Am I wrong?”
His hauteur made me want to tell him he was wrong.
“I prefer Key lime pie.”
“We all prefer pie, and if I could have had them make it for you, I would have. But they only serve Key lime tarts here.” His attention moved from the tart to the wine. “Did you enjoy the wine as much as the tart?” His smile widened.
That was from him, too. I should have known. Victoria was too busy working on her Oscar performance of the woman living on the fringe of terror who somehow managed to find the spirit to soldier on and make her grand appearance in her restaurant to greet her guests.
I shrugged. “I’m working.”
His eyes slowly roved over the room. “What’s the job?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be worth my fee if I blabbed about my jobs to anyone who asked, now would I?”
“There should be no secrets among friends,” he drawled, taking another sip from his glass before a lazy smile moved over his lips.
“That’s not remotely true. Everyone has secrets. And we aren’t friends. You were simply removed from my hate list.”
“Then I need to work harder to get on your friends list. I will make that my personal goal. I’m sure it’s a lofty goal but I’m up for the challenge.”
“You can start by not being a backstabbing ass. That would help.”
Now I was the one looking around the room, matching faces with the magic that wafted through the air. Witch, mage, fae, and shifter magic created a mélange of smells and energy that in a smaller space would have been overwhelming. I thought of Mephisto and the other three whose magic mirrored his. Would an expansive space like this prevent me from feeling like I was ensorcelled in magic? Drowning under the weight of it? It hadn’t worked in Mephisto’s castle-like home.
“Have we returned to this tired debate? I never backstabbed you. In fact, I warned you off.”
“You got me the Mystic Souls, we’re good,” I said, immediately regretting opening the door for questions about its early return. But he didn’t inquire about it.
“If you get a break, please feel free to join us.” He nudged his chin toward the area across the room, the exclusive section where three men and two women were seated. I recognized one woman as the Alpha of the Northwest Lion’s Pack, LLC. Like the Northwest Wolf’s Pack, LLC, they had gone corporate to no longer be considered a pack. They weren’t fooling anyone. The pack and a pride still existed.
As the woman’s hazel eyes landed on me, the desire to ask her why they didn’t call themselves Northwest Lion’s Pride as opposed to pack diminished. It was just me being pedantic, but it was something I had always wanted to ask the Alpha, or rather CEO, who could give me some insight. Her predator’s scope kept me in her line of sight. The angular features of her face framed by auburn hair gave her a feline appearance, sleek like a cheetah rather than the lion who shared her body. The sapphire-blue dress complemented her warm coral skin.
Asher took a seat next to her and whispered something. Her cool appraising gaze became more intense. When she laughed, her eyes sparked with amusement. My attention immediately went to Asher who raised his glass to me.
There’s a level of immaturity we all maintain. We delight in the nostalgia of our youth and the silly things we could get away with. Sticking your tongue out as a child might not be appreciated but it was acceptable. Doing it as a fully grown adult was puerile as hell. I should have been ashamed of doing it. I wasn’t. And I felt a special form of delight when Asher choked on his drink.
The warm glow of the lights in the restaurant gave the intimate feel of candlelight, adding to the allure of the place. There was just enough swank and exclusivity to appeal to the who’s who of the supernatural world, and I knew that when I saw the vision in midnight ease into a small table off to the side, seating himself away from the crowd but able to observe the room and everyone in it. His lips curled into an inviting smile.
I would have known he was there even without the visual. The subtle air of magic changed, becoming more intense, electric, and heavy. He blanketed the air with his distinctive magic. He knew how to subdue it but he wasn’t even trying. He was leaving breadcrumbs for me. Mephisto.
Grabbing my glass of wine, I moved to the back of the restaurant, noting everyone and everything; nothing looked suspicious. Victoria reluctantly agreed to me leaving her with the other three guards when I assured her that I was just a phone call away. I also reminded her that she did have use of some magic; after all, she used it to evoke the D’Siren. It might not be as strong as some, but it could protect her.
Before I left, I took another look at the remainder of my tart, questioning whether its divine taste was the D’Siren at work or whether it was actually one of the best desserts I’d ever had and pairing it with the wine wasn’t a bad choice. Unable to resist, I glanced at Asher and caught his gaze. I could see the invitation in his eyes. Still having some trust issues when it came to him, cozying up to him for a night of music, fun, and drinking was something I needed to avoid. Besides, I didn’t need to get too comfortable in places like Kelsey’s.
The cool night breeze was welcome, a palate cleanser after the magic-permeated room. The refreshing breeze that cooled my overwrought senses was interrupted by the magical signature of the fae, floral with hints of ground cacao. This distinctive magical energy wasn’t just fae, it was Neri and Adalia, the fae king and queen. Their striking and stately appearance made them difficult to ignore.
They didn’t have guards with them, and I wondered if the heightened security in Kelsey’s wasn’t just for Victoria but because of them.
Walking past me, they gave me a look as if they expected me to bow or show some sign of veneration. I ignored it. They would only receive the deference they expected from other fae. They were their leaders and therefore deserving of it. The Master of the vampires, the Alphas, Arch-mage, or the High witch were extended the same deference by those they led. If mutual regard was shown by one leader to another, it was out of courtesy, not obligation. I wasn’t a fae; I owed them nothing. Since the mages didn’t claim me, any regard I extended to them was a politeness not an expectation.
For some reason, Neri seemed to forget those unspoken rules. The bridge of his slender nose that he looked down with such condemnation was as razor-sharp as the lines of his jaw and enviable cheekbones. His wide mouth never moved into anything that resembled a smile, just a taut line. His appearance could be harsh, but there was always a glint of delight in his eyes and it brightened even more whenever he looked at Adalia. Her appearance was a contrast to his. Where he was all defined lines and unyielding angles, she was rounder, softer. Smooth edges and delicate curves. Heart-shaped face, supple lips that set in a resting smile, and soft brown eyes that held the royals’ shared pretension.
Kelsey’s catered to a clientele who believed in dressing in fine suits and beautiful dresses for the occasion, yet these royals were a little overdressed. His silver Cambridge suit paled his parchment coloring even more, whereas her vibrant yellow floor-length gown complemented her dusky skin. Adalia commanded the street the way a model would the runway, her legs slipping out from the slits in her dress that were wardrobe malfunctions waiting to happen.
But it wasn’t their appearance or their command of the space that held my attention; it was their magic. And if they were any closer, I would have leaned in just to feel it again. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if just a whiff of their magic or a need to bathe in their energy would be enough. I could see the headline now: “rogue death mage attacks king and queen of the fae.”
I sped up to get away from them but came to an abrupt stop at the sound of the growls of three wolves with their teeth bared, pounding in our direction. Snatching off my shoes, I tossed them asi
de, preparing for whatever may happen.
One wolf lunged in my direction but I hopped onto the car closest to me and climbed to its roof. Neri sent a wave of magic, sending the other two sprawling onto their backs several feet away. They rolled and came to their feet and charged at the fae.
Glassy eyed and seemingly ravenous, they appeared to be driven by a force that had stripped away their volition. I looked around for the source. Magic could be used against shifters, but none of it could control them or their change, although there were rumored to be magical objects that could. Not that anyone had ever seen them. I suspected Asher was in possession of any that might exist.
More shifters appeared from the opposite direction. Neri and Adalia shot magic that stopped the coyote, hyena, and cheetah racing in their direction. In the short reprieve, the royals formed a protective shield around themselves.
The animals surrounded it, pounding, biting, and clawing. It wavered but held. If it gave, the couple would be surrounded by shifter animals, bigger, faster, and stronger than their human counterparts and with the human intelligence that allowed for better strategy and hunting skills. The animals were employing attrition, assaulting the barrier and forcing Adalia and Neri to fight to hold it up and keep repairing the slashes and rents.
“Stop,” I commanded, hoping to reach the human part of them that could override the magical impulses driving them. I scanned the area again for the person controlling them.
It wasn’t the scent of magic that caught my attention, though, it was the silver spark that flickered like lightning from the roof. It was like the magic in my home. My heart started pounding in my chest when I realized I might be looking at the very thing that had escaped. He was too far away for me to make out his features, but the expansion of feathers behind the figure was undeniable. Wings. The person slipped farther into the darkness until he blended with the night.
One of the wolves broke from the pack and came after me. I moved to the middle of the car’s roof. Its claws clacked as they dug into the metal for purchase. In my purse I had a Taser and a knife. Holstered at my leg was a Beretta Pico. There weren’t silver bullets in it, so it would just hurt like hell, but even so, shooting a shifter when it wasn’t under its own control seemed wrong.
Silverfall Page 4
