City of the Lost (Chronicles of Arcana Book 2)

by Debbie Cassidy

  I sat on the nearest seat with a thump and took a gulp of the fragrant tea—unsweetened and clean, just the way I liked it—and echoed his words. “It won’t come to that.”

  A small figure dashed past the kitchen, leaving the echo of sobs in its wake. The thud of footsteps running up the stairs followed a moment later.

  Miss Hamilton entered the room soon after, her lips turned down in disapproval.

  I put down my cup. “What happened?”

  “Kids being cruel.” She glanced heavenward. “They’ve been teasing little Amber about her resemblance to Noir again. They’ve decided she’s his unwanted spawn.”

  “Was that her hurtling upstairs a moment ago?”

  Matron pressed her lips together and nodded.

  Indignation flared in my chest. “I hate bullies.”

  “I know.”

  “You mind if I go up and talk to her?”

  She shrugged. “Be my guest. I’m sure Azren and I will find something to talk about.” She smiled fondly at the Shedim, which was crazy considering she could see his true form. She shooed me out of the kitchen. “I have lemon cake when you get down.”

  Oh, God, love me some lemon cake. “Can I move back in?”

  Her cheeks flushed pink. “Get away with you.”

  I left her to converse with Azren and headed up the two flights of steps to the second floor, where the kids were housed. There were five rooms in total, and each housed two children, but the sound of heartbroken sobs led me to the tiny room at the far end of the corridor—a single room, my old room. Nostalgia squeezed my heart and stung the back of my nose. It was a strange coincidence that this out-of-place child should take up residence in my old haven.

  This room held so many memories, happy and sad, and I’d been lucky it hadn’t ended up being my final resting place. The fever had taken me just after my eighteenth birthday. I’d never seen Matron worried about sickness until that night. Heck, I’d never been sick before. But being sick had felt like dying, and then the angel had come—eyes like cold fire and fingers like ice. His hair had been silver light, and his lips, when they’d brushed against mine, had tasted of cinnamon. The next morning the fever was gone. And two days later, the letter from the law firm had landed on the doorstep. Thank God I’d lived long enough to collect my inheritance from a relative who hadn’t bothered to claim me when he’d been alive. Matron had speculated that maybe I’d been the product of an Arcana and neph union, but with no Arcane ability to speak of, it was unlikely.

  Well, with that trip down memory lane over, I focused on the sobs filtering through the door. Poor kid. If there was a way for me to make it better ...

  I rapped on the door and the sobs halted abruptly. “Hi, my name’s Wila. I used to live here. In this room, actually. I was wondering if we could chat?”

  There was a deep, contemplative silence and then the sound of muffled footsteps. The door opened a crack and a tear-stained face peered out, eyes wide.

  “Hi.” I raised a hand in greeting.

  “You’re Wila Bastion? The Wila Bastion who catches monsters?”

  “The one and only.”

  She opened the door a little wider. “Why would you want to talk to me?”

  Oh, man. She looked so much like Noir that it took everything I had not to stare. Instead, I gave her my best confident smile and crouched down to her eye level. “I heard the other kids were being a little mean to you.” I winced. “I really don’t have time for bullies, and I just wanted to check that you were okay.”

  Her lips tightened. “You were bullied?”

  I sighed and nodded. “Yep. In fact, this used to be my room when I lived here.”

  Her eyes widened. “It did?”

  “Yep. I think some of the others were jealous I got a room to myself, to be honest.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “Honestly?”

  She nodded.

  “I cried. I cried a lot, and then I decided I was done crying, and I punched Garret in the face.”

  She blinked at me in horror.

  Oops. “Not that I’m saying you should punch anyone, just that ...” I sighed. “Okay, I’m doing this all wrong. What I mean to say is that if you show them that they’re getting to you, then they’ll keep doing it. So ... why don’t you tell me what they’ve been saying?”

  She gnawed on her bottom lip for a second. “They say Adam Noir is my dad, and he dumped me here because he doesn’t want me. That he only comes to check on me because he feels guilty, but not enough to take me with him.”

  I shook my head. Fucking Noir. How could he be so stupid? Did he not see the resemblance? “What do you think?”

  She dropped her gaze and wrung her hands. “Sometimes I want it to be true. Sometimes I wish he was my dad; at least I’d know where I came from. But then the others remind me what that would really mean. It would mean he didn’t want me.”

  “You know what I think?”

  She looked up, her baby blues, so similar to Noir’s, locking onto me with hope.

  “I think they’re jealous. I mean, you do look like Noir, and he is pretty amazing. I bet they wish he was their dad, regardless of whether he put them here or not. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be related to an Arcana?”

  She blinked, absorbing this explanation. “You know him?”

  “Yes, we’re kinda, sorta friends.”

  “So, you’d know for sure, right?”

  Oh, God. She looked so hopeful, but what was it she was hoping for. Either way, there was no way the truth could come out, not if she was to survive.

  “Yes, I know for sure he doesn’t have any children.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Oh. Good. I mean, that’s really good.” She looked up again. “Can you tell the others that?”

  “If that’s what you want, sure I can. But I’ll need a slice of lemon cake first.”

  An hour later, Azren and I made our way down the porch steps, a packet of homemade herbal tea in my hand and a tiffin of lemon cake in Azren’s. We were halfway down the path when footfalls clattered after us.

  Amber grabbed my hand. “Thank you for making them stop.”

  “No problem.”

  She ducked her head. “And when you see him ... When you see Adam, can you say hi from me?”

  There was a conspiratorial glint in her eye, a half-smile on her lips. She knew. She fucking knew.

  “Sure. I’ll pass that on.”

  She released my hand and skipped back up the path and into the house.

  Noir was going to have to sort this out, and fast.

  3

  The radio crackled as I scarfed down the supper Gilbert had kindly prepared. Bangers and mash, my ultimate favorite, and the gravy Gilbert made was to die for. Azren, antsy from not having found any clues, had gone for a drive to clear his head. The kitchen felt empty without him.

  “Hey,” Trevor said from his perch on his cushioned seat. “What’s with the face?”

  “What face?”

  “You were chomping away and then your mouth went all weird.” His eyes widened. “Shit, it’s not that time of the month, is it?”

  “Seriously, Trev, personal space is an actual thing, you know.”

  “Just saying.” He lapped at his plate, cleaning it so thoroughly it looked washed. “So what’s the face for?”

  “I was just thinking, we’ve all been taking our meals together for the past two weeks, and it feels odd with Azren not being here.”

  He placed a paw on the table. “I get you. He kinda fills up the space with his exuberant scarfing and all the glaring.”

  I snorted. “That too.”

  “I mean, if he could inhale the food ...”

  “Right?”

  We both chuckled and then Trevor sobered. “But he won’t be with us forever. He has to go back sometime. Don’t forget that, Wila.”

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sure. ’Course I know that.”

  “Do you?” Trevor asked. “Gil and
I have noticed how close you two are getting. He gravitates toward you when you enter a room, and there’s a natural ease between you two. The kind of dynamic that precedes something deeper.”

  “We’re not having this conversation.”

  “No, we’re not, because you’re smarter than that. You know there’s only heartache in store for you if you let him get closer.” He sighed. “If he was free to stay, then things would be different, but he belongs to the dragon bitch. Remember that.”

  The food no longer tasted lush. And my stomach quivered with the first signs of anxiety. “You know me, Trev. I don’t do relationships.”

  “Yes, you keep saying that, and yet here we are—you and me and Gilbert—in a relationship.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, the big romantic L.O.V.E. The plague. The disease to be avoided. But you know what, Wila? It can also be a blessing, and I think deep down you know that. I think if you opened your heart, you’d have plenty of love to give to that special someone.”

  Yeah, except the idea of doing that brought me out in a cold sweat. It felt like shackles, and the walls began to close in.

  “At least you have the choice.” He ducked his head. “Unlike some of us.”

  Oh, God. I was such a dick. Sometimes, I forgot he’d once been a man, that he’d had a life and possibly lovers. He rarely talked about his life before, probably because it was too painful to remember, but maybe I’d backed off too soon. Maybe I’d given him too much space.

  “You never did tell me if you’d been in a serious relationship.”

  He made a chuffing sound. “Too many relationships to count.” He laughed. “Until I met Janet, and then things got serious pretty quickly. The woman was obsessed. Can’t really blame her.” He raised his head. “I’d wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, but this face probably wouldn’t cooperate. Anyway, it didn’t work out.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  He looked down at himself.

  “Wait ... she’s the one who did this to you?” I shook my head. “You told me it was a bitch witch dabbling in nasty dark magic.” There’d been no Arcana rule back then and no one to police nephs with the ability to harness magic.

  Trevor sighed heavily. “I was a regular Joe, see, and when I found out what she was, that she was ... different, I ended the relationship. She didn’t take it too well. We got into a fight, she called me a dirty dog, and then the next morning ... well, that’s exactly what I was.”

  “But she liked you. Like, liked you. Surely she’d have removed the hex or whatever it was once she calmed down ...”

  “Maybe. If she’d lived that long. The broad got hit by a bus the next morning. And that was that.”

  “Ouch.”

  The rest I knew. He’d survived by joining a freak show and working with a ventriloquist who also happened to be a neph. It seemed that being turned into a dog opened his eyes to the supernatural world. He’d lived with the neph for the better part of a century, and when he’d died, Trevor had ended up on the streets. That’s where I’d found him. He’d saved my ass in an alley fight by giving me the heads up. Naturally, I’d brought him home, and the rest, as they say, was history.

  “I’m sorry, Trev.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve had an interesting life. More so than I would ever have had as a human, and now I have you.”

  He sounded sincere, but his doggy eyes were filled with resignation. Hope was what kept us striving, it was the reason we woke up in the morning. I couldn’t let him abandon it. “If there is a cure out there, we’ll find it.”

  He waved a paw. “Nah. I’ve been thinking, wondering about the consequences and such. I was human, Wila, in my prime, and I’ve been alive for over a century. If you turn me back, what would I become? Bone and ash?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Exactly. I’m not going to take the risk.”

  I reached out and ran a hand over his back. “I promise you, Trev. If there’s a way to get you back, without turning you to dust, then I’ll find it.” I kissed the top of his head, then pushed back my seat. “I’m going to grab a shower before I head to Tay’s. You want to tag along to the party?”

  “And steal your thunder? I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Ha.”

  “But seriously.” His tone switched to somber. “Don’t turn away from the chance of love, Wila. Don’t close off your heart. You deserve to be happy.”

  How could I explain it to him? How could I explain that it wasn’t loving someone I was afraid of, but that their love wouldn’t be enough for me? How could I tell him that the truth wasn’t that I was afraid of getting my heart crushed, it was the possibility of breaking someone else’s heart that kept me from handing mine over. How could I tell him what I wanted didn’t make sense. So instead, I gave him my best cocky smile. “Trust me, Trev. I don’t need a man in my life to be happy.”

  “Hmmm. Just so you know, I’m arching a brow right now.”

  Yeah, he so wasn’t buying it.

  The air behind me shifted, signaling Gilbert’s arrival.

  I turned to face where I thought he would be. “Thanks for a lovely meal, Gilbert.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “No reports matching Lost sightings. I’ll keep trawling, but I feel we may have bagged the only pack that escaped.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The dial on the radio turned, and Missy Honour’s voice blared out at us.

  New reports of metal beasts attacking citizens, what will the Arcana throw at us next, not to mention—

  I strode out of the room. I had enough on my plate.

  The pipes gurgled and clunked. Bloody plumbing in this place was shot to shit. I’d have to get someone to come in and look at it. The damned pipes were probably as rusty as my vajayjay. With an ominous thud and an angry gurgle, the showerhead sprang to life and water jettisoned into the tub. The room was nice and steamy within minutes. Stripping off my clothes, I climbed into the tub and stepped into the steam. Hot needles of water stung my skin, but man, did that feel good. The heat chased away the aches and pains of the day. I reached up for the shampoo and a gasp caught in my throat. Fucking hell, my finger. My pinky was purple. Shit. Now that I’d noticed it, the damned thing began to tingle.

  The ruby ring Valance had given me glinted. It was too tight? How the heck was it too tight? Had it shrunk? Had my finger grown? With no other rings on my hands to compare, there was no telling. Grabbing it, I began to wiggle it, wincing as it cut into my flesh. Fuck, come on. Just over the knuckle. Almost there. I twisted and the damn thing flew off and fell into the tub with a clink.

  Crap. I bent down to retrieve it and a cold chill blasted my backside. I shot up and spun round, almost slipping in the wet tub.

  A hand shot out to steady me, and I was caught in Valance’s electric-blue eyes. What the heck? How the—I reared back and he grabbed me around the waist, stepping into the hot spray of water with me.

  His hair was plastered to his head in a matter of seconds. We stared at each other.

  “You’re taking a shower,” he said calmly, water skating off his chiseled visage.

  I blinked against the water pattering against my face and nodded, my voice trapped in my throat.

  He pouted contemplatively. “So ... you’re not in mortal danger?”

  Oh, fuck. The ring, the fucking ring. A hysterical giggle crawled up my throat and exploded from my lips.

  His lips twitched and then we both burst into laughter. It lasted mere seconds and then a hot flush of awareness swept across my skin—my wet, naked skin, which he was up close and personal with. His shirt was soaked, the skin beneath visible through the now transparent fabric. A new kind of heat unfurled in my belly.

  “Wila?” His tone was pregnant with expectation.

  It was the first time he’d said my name. Not Miss Bastion, but Wila, and that combined with the intimacy of the situation set my blood on fire.

  I pressed a hand to his
chest, intending to push him away, but my fingers curled against his taut flesh uselessly, absorbing his heat. “You should go.”

  “Look at me.” His voice was an echo reverberating inside my head.

  That voice, that compelling siren call of a voice. This was bad. Wrong. But my chin tilted as if of its own volition, and then I was trapped in his dragon gaze, spiraling out of control. My fingers clutched at his wet shirt, desperate to gain some kind of purchase, desperate to remove the obstruction of fabric, because he was inside me—in my mind, under my skin—tugging, drawing. I was melting, needing to be closer, while drowning in the essence of him—fire and brimstone and sweet almonds.

  “Oh, fuck. Wila.” His words were a rasping throb somewhere deep inside me. “What the fuck?”

  His fingers bit into my waist, and my feet left the ground. My back hit the tiles, and the roar of water blocked out everything else as his mouth descended on mine in a lip-crushing, tongue-tangling kiss. Almonds, he tasted of almonds and honey. Oh, God. Closer. I needed to be closer. As if hearing my silent plea, he lifted me up and wrapped my legs around his waist. There was only the harsh brush of his trouser fabric against me, the taut press of his chest against my breasts, his mouth, that clever, hungry mouth, and that tugging in my chest, sweet and delicious and ...

  Hungry.

  The haze that had fallen over me lifted slightly. Oh, God. This was no ordinary kiss. This was something else. Something sinister.

  A feeding.

  He was feeding off me and it felt amazing. Let him, let him have it. Were those my groans? He devoured them, rolling his groin against mine, his hard length pressing against me separated only by a thin layer of fabric. Sharp, electric pleasure radiated out from the point of contact, tightening in sweet torment until my lungs ached to take a breath. He dragged my lips between his teeth, sucking away the sting and then claiming my mouth once more. My pulse throbbed in my throat and wrists, and my heart slammed against my ribs. More. Please.

  A tiny voice whimpered in the back of my mind. No, this was wrong. Dangerous. The pleasure didn’t matter. It had to stop. He thrust against me. Oh, God. Oh ... No! The voice screamed, taking control. Summoning every ounce of willpower, I shoved at Valance’s chest, bucking against him to get free.