“Of course,” I responded in a voice that matched hers.
Touché. I see what you’re doing. Bravo, Ms. Harp. Well done. She was the queen of noncompliance, but she was definitely a fan of Asher. She couldn’t even give Mephisto a proper glare because her attention kept dropping to our clutched hands.
“He’s such a nice man. I can’t believe he spent all that time with me when he could have been with you. I hate that I took up so much of his time.”
“I’ll definitely relay the message.” Pulling my hand from Mephisto’s, which seemingly was too distracting for her to continue walking, I opened my purse and took out my phone. “I can give you his number again, if you like.” I gave her a look that told her I knew exactly what she was doing.
“I have it.” The tension that eased out of her was disconcerting. She didn’t change like a shifter, but her demeanor toward me with Mephisto was befitting of a pack member. I would have to visit her to explain my relationship with Asher, because clearly she had the wrong idea.
Turning to leave, Ms. Harp’s sharp glower landed on Mephisto’s hand that was lightly pressed against my back, leading me to the car.
He leaned in, whispering against my ear, “I see you and Asher have made up, Ms. Jensen. He’s spending the night now. This explains a few things.”
“Ms. Harp is quite the fan of Asher,” I explained.
“I can tell. You seem to be a fan as well.” His deep voice was professionally neutral but his jaw clenched. It relaxed once he realized I noticed.
Shrugging, I said, “Not really. We just understand each other.”
He nodded his head in consideration but said nothing else. Once in the car, he gave me an intense appraising look. “Do we understand each other?” he asked softly, searching my face.
“Sometimes.” It was the only answer I could offer. Not to be evasive but because I just didn’t know the answer.
Minutes into the drive, Mephisto seemed to be pondering something. My lips curled because I suspected what it was. I sighed and said, “Asher spent the night with me. He stayed on the sofa. He came over the night before I went to the Veil because he was worried about me going into it.”
Tension eased from Mephisto’s face and he let out a soft breath. “Then I was right. Asher and I tend to have the same interests.”
I was surprised to see familiar motorcycles trailing us, occasionally speeding up to the side of the car to give Mephisto an impatient look, obviously not keen on driving at the posted speed limit. After three urges to go faster, they sped past, their bodies bent over the bikes, pushing the machines to speeds that would likely earn them a ticket or worse. Mephisto looked wistful as they zoomed past and disappeared into the night.
“They’ll be attending?”
“Not the auction. You’re only allowed one guest. They’re acting as security detail.”
“Another auction with the ‘fine people of the city,’” I teased, bringing up the very term he used to describe them when they were targeted by Maddox and his group. “I thought you preferred to work with shifters.”
“I do. But I think it is wise to be more cautious. I’m confident Elizabeth’s binding worked but not as confident that Ian won’t find a way to undo it. He’s more tenacious now. Previous failures have led to a desperation that has made him more formidable than in the past.”
“You believe he might show up at the auction.”
“I don’t know, but it’s better to be prepared.”
That’s when I noticed he had his sword on the back seat. Saw the intricate markings of the handle.
I really wished I had my weapons.
Winding up the pathway to the home, I didn’t think of an upscale building where I needed to dress up, but more that I was being led to a gothic mansion and that jeans, sneakers, and a taste for horror would be more appropriate. Faint iridescent lights provided an ambient glow to the sparse and neatly aligned trees flanking the road. The road remained poorly lit despite the silvery halo of light from the moon. It wasn’t comforting that the road led us to a small parking lot with few cars.
“This feels like the beginning of a story that would make the news.”
“Oh, Erin, you do have a vivid imagination.” He got out of the car and waited. I thought having Kai and Clay there was a little excessive, but when they pulled up to the side of the car, I did feel more comfortable.
Based on their conversation, I gathered Simeon had plans with Victoria. I suspected he had plans with Pearl, but that just sounded too weird to say. It didn’t bother me. It would make Victoria comfortable and decrease the number of disparaging calls and texts I received from her. And keep me from having to come up with creative and kind ways of telling her she was an overdramatic, high-maintenance, self-indulgent, terrible client. There are only so many ways to word that and not sound rude.
Leading to the building, tightly twined vines created a darkened tunnel, with only hints of light from the moon breaking through.
They were going for an image. I’d been to several auctions. The most elaborate was in the living room of a Victorian home. The shadiest, in a warehouse where they hadn’t even bothered to turn on the heat. In the middle of a cold room, we bid while competing against the noise of the antiquated space heaters. This auction was a presentation. An artful, dramatic display of magic and menace, and the people approaching the house seemed to be enjoying the pageantry.
Some stopped to take in the graphite-colored bricks, the turret, the similarly styled columns in the front of the home and the gargoyles. I halted too, but to roll my eyes. You don’t do something like this and not expect at least one person to be exasperated.
“Sometimes, it’s the experience that is the most exciting thing. Presentation is what intrigues.” Mephisto was dressed in variations of black except for his watch, which I suspected was platinum. Onyx tailored suit, opened to show a patterned vest. Midnight slacks. Indigo hue of his midnight hair. Glint of his deep-charcoal eyes. Mephisto also was an “experience” and a “presentation” that one or two passersby were enjoying.
Hey, lady, double takes aren’t supposed to be obvious. You look while approaching, and when you’re next to them, you do another look. Don’t do a stop-the-traffic look. It’s tacky . . . and very obvious.
Mephisto looked at me, then took a sidelong look at the woman who did the poorly executed double take.
He extended his hand for me to take hold of it. Looking at the woman and back at his extended hand, I gave a second to consider how petty it was to take it. Then I took a step onto the throne of pettiness and took it.
The muted light and rich, dark-blue walls of the interior kept with the outside theme. Breaks in the deep colors were made by light art, sculptures, and vases.
Mephisto released my hand to offer me a glass of champagne as we followed one of the hosts to our seats. The room seemed out of place, although the brightly illuminated space made it easy to see the table of the first group of items for sale.
It didn’t take long for the bidding to start, and four items in, I appreciated my policy of not taking people at their word in their name of an object or what it did. Twice, an object was called by a secondary name and given a secondary use. Everything had a secondary use, even regular things in the human world, and usually the secondary use wasn’t the most efficient. The same was true of magical objects. I wasn’t sure if it was done to entice the audience and garner higher bids or because of a general lack of knowledge. Mephisto won three of the four items he bid for. I couldn’t figure out the theme of his acquisitions.
When the next collection of items was brought out, my breath caught. I clenched my hands together, trying not to react. Inconspicuously, I looked around at the other attendees to gauge their interest. Were they simply interested in acquiring exquisite powerful objects or did they know what this item was? There weren’t unlimited funds for me to bid with, but for the Xios, the royals and Asher had approved an amount that could run a small town for a couple of
months. This wasn’t the Xios, however; it was something even better. A Nuli.
When evoked, a Nuli stored magic, and I couldn’t think of a more fitting punishment for Ian. It might not remove his mark, but it would render him magicless.
That there were people selling something so dangerous annoyed me. Because of how dangerous Nulis were, the STF had destroyed all five that existed. Was this one that they didn’t know about?
I’d mull that over later.
When the auctioneer brought forward the burgundy palm-size teardrop stone with the gold sigils running along the side, he said, “This is a Cante.” Not even close. “It is used to allow you to travel. Just envision a place of interest and it will take you there. You’ll travel like a Master vampire.” No, it won’t.
It did garner some interest. I bid low, giving myself room to increase the bid if necessary. At the half million mark, all but one other bidder remained. The woman who had given Mephisto the second look tossed me a sharp glare, warning me off. I gave it right back to her. The Nuli was mine, but as the bidding inched higher, I wasn’t sure. I sent dirty looks in her direction as if the intensity of them would have the power to keep her hand down.
Almost at my limit, I considered the money in my account. Could I go over it? Surely they would reimburse me. This wasn’t a “I’ll pay you later” situation. Transfers had to be made that night, and if not, the item went to the losing bidder.
Mephisto’s admirer finally lost interest. The auctioneer was making a last call to increase my bid when Mephisto made an offer that I couldn’t begin to better.
“Why are you doing this? I had the highest bid,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“And now I have it,” he said, his voice just as low as mine but lacking the cold steel and poorly suppressed hostility. His aloof demeanor just added to my anger. Beside shooting glares at Mephisto, I waited for another object that would be as good as the Nuli. Nothing. During the last bid, I leaned over to him.
“Did you purchase that for me?” I asked in a hopeful whisper. I was confident Asher and the royals would buy it from him to get rid of Ian, but would he sell?
His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered back, “Erin Katherine Jensen, how highly do you think of yourself? No, I know what this is. And I want it.”
After getting a sharp look from the auctioneer, we both quieted. Humming with frustration, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Mephisto couldn’t be the person who stood between me and getting rid of Ian.
He could be reasoned with, I tried to convince myself. But could he?
Over seven figures spent and we walked out of the auction carrying a plain black bag. Whether it fit the theme of the house or not, when a person spends that sort of money, they get a tote, a pretty box, or something that can be reused. Not a tacky black sack. I had to fixate on the absurdity of the bag to keep my focus off Mephisto. No emotions were displayed on the defined planes of his jawline, the wings of his cheeks, or the straight line that his full supple lips formed.
The bag in one hand, he kept the one closest to me free, his fingers brushing my hand ever so lightly in a request to hold it. There wasn’t an audience to see me ascend my throne of pettiness and I was so livid, I spent the walk trying to crush his fingers with my hold.
Satisfied with our safe return to the car, Kai drove off. Clayton studied my face, frowned, and looked at Mephisto.
“Everything okay, M?”
Mephisto’s voice held a note of amusement. “I do believe Erin is upset with me. It will pass.”
You want to bet a Nuli on that?
Clayton didn’t seem too concerned about me being troubled; I suspected residual displeasure from me attempting to take his magic. I needed to apologize, but he didn’t give me the opportunity.
“I’m sure things will work out.” Clayton’s easy mien was gone. He backed his bike away, turned around, and without another word, he was gone too.
“What the hell was that, M!” I blurted the moment we were in the car.
He leaned toward me, the delectation in his study of me just exasperating my frustration.
“Don’t call me that. That was an auction, Ms. Jensen. I’m sure you’re familiar with them. It’s where people bid on objects they want.”
“You knew I wanted it.”
“You were there to get the Xios, correct? It wasn’t there, and for that, I am regretful.”
“The Cante is close to it. It might work.” The misdirection was worth a try.
Based on his raised brow and half smile, it didn’t.
“You and I both know what it is and how it can be used against Ian. I’m not opposed to you doing that. What I don’t want is for Asher, Neri, or Adalia to have it.”
“But if we don’t destroy it after we take Ian’s magic, it will still exist. If he ever gets hold of it, he can have his magic restored. And it’s illegal as hell.”
“True, to all of it. Are you saying you don’t want it?”
“Yes, but—”
“That is the condition of its use. Once used, it will be returned to me. Madison or anyone from the STF will never know I have it. Are these rules you can abide by?” Giving me the full intensity of his gaze, he waited for an answer.
“Asher and the royals won’t be happy about you not destroying it.”
“Then you’re rejecting the offer?”
“No, not at all.”
“Good.” There was something in his face as he turned from me to start the car. It made me think of his statement about not being wise when it came to me. Was this one of those times? Part of me expected Simeon, Clayton, or Kai to pull up and give him a withering look. To remind him that all decisions regarding me had to be done by committee or something. But it was just the two of us and he was doing me a favor that would end the Ian situation.
He pulled out of the driveway, the only sound in the car soft music on the radio.
“Thank you,” I said after moments of silence.
“It’s not about cruelty to you, but survival for me.”
“That’s the problem. If you tell me what you’re trying to survive, I can help.”
“You will help, Erin Katherine Jensen. I believe you will.”
“This is one sided. You have my name and I have the name you have chosen.”
“I never asked for your name. You gave it freely. Something you should be more cautious about. Not the name but how it is said. I’m sure Cory has explained to you how important names are.”
“I think they’re more important to fae than most people. Is that why you protect yours? It’s a fae thing?”
From his profile, I could see he was entertained by my line of questioning. “Satan, elf, and now fae. Do you have iron on you? Would you like me to test it?”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Ian is immune to iron.”
“True, but it isn’t a natural immunity. He made a deal with a demon. I assure you that I’ve never made a deal with a demon.”
“Okay, Satan, so a cross is your weakness.”
He didn’t respond. Maybe he found it too ridiculous to do so, but I added the snippet to the crumbs of information I was gathering about him and the Others.
“I assume you have the other necessary item needed for the spell?” he asked as he pulled up to my apartment.
I nodded. “Can we do it tonight? I’ll call Cory.”
“No, just the two of us. I can do the spell to invoke the Nuli. Just get Ian’s blood. By tomorrow, Ian will be handled.”
I couldn’t believe that yesterday, I was prepared to kill Ian, and today, I was going to be able to render him magicless. I hadn’t realized how heavily this had weighed on me until I felt unburdened.
“Give me a minute to get the shuriken,” I said, reaching for the door.
His brow furrowed in dismay.
“It has his blood on it,” I explained.
When Mephisto started to get out of the car, I shook my head, stopping him. “It won’t take long. I�
��ll be right back.”
It was silly, but it would be quicker for me to run into the house, let Ms. Harp see me without Mephisto. I had a feeling she was keeping a close eye on when I returned and whether or not I was alone. Ms. Harp—Asher’s unrequested spy.
With my keys in hand, I bounded toward my apartment making a promise to myself to be more careful with my blood. Most of the time I wasn’t, although witches, fae, and mages were. Shifters weren’t and neither were vampires. There weren’t many spells that worked against their magic. But knowing what we were about to do reinforced how important it was.
Wind swooshed against my back and everything was suddenly obscured by black wings. A shocked gasp escaped me and then a scream when I realized I was nearly thirty feet off the ground. The fabric of my dress bunched under me while Ian held me by the straps of the dress. Fearing they weren’t going to hold much longer, or I was going to slip out of the dress and plummet to my death, I yelled.
“I’m going to fall!”
“Perhaps,” he offered, releasing one strap.
Fear captured the next scream even after he grabbed hold of my arms. He did it so clumsily, I was sure I was going to slip. He was stronger than he looked but his muscles trembled when he soared even higher and let go of my arms. It’s not life that flashes before your eyes when you think you’re going to die, it’s blinding panic and brief moments of darkness. I fell fast, grabbing for anything but finding nothing.
Arms wrapped around my waist and secured me against his chest.
“Better,” he said. It wasn’t to comfort me. He just didn’t want to lose me before we got to our destination. My heart pounded in my chest and I blinked back tears.
“You betrayed me, emissary,” he growled. Terrified that any movement would make him lose his grip, I remained silent. “The shifters are no longer under my control. You had something to do with that.” He pushed the words out through clenched teeth, his voice hard and raspy.
Silverfall Page 24
