by Linsey Hall
Ever since then, this had been a lucky shirt. One of many, since I made a point to collect them.
For good measure, I popped into my trove and grabbed another lucky pendant. It was a match for the one I was currently wearing—a black pearl that had been enchanted by a tree spirit that I’d met in Iceland a few years ago. Doubling up on pendants meant doubling up on luck, so I clipped it around my neck. It rested next to the other lucky necklace and my comms charm. Maybe it was a bit over the top to wear two lucky necklaces and a lucky shirt, but with what was ahead of me, I figured I was going to need it.
I was probably somewhere on the edge of being a hoarder, but I didn’t figure I was there yet. Though I did try to show some self-control. If I let myself go wild with the lucky charms, I’d probably look like that little kid from the Christmas movie whose mom wrapped him up in the snowsuit and a million scarves. I’d be loaded down with pendants and charms and lucky this’s and that’s.
But for now, I was good.
With one last look at my colorful apartment, I tugged on a black leather jacket and slung my sword sheath over my back. It would have been great to get some potion bombs from Connor, whose mad skills with the cauldron made my fighting life so much easier, but he’d been out at a concert. None of the potions in his workshop were marked, and I sure as heck didn’t want to get them confused. Number one rule in potions—know what you were slinging.
I grabbed the sweater I’d borrowed from Roarke off the back of the couch and barely resisted giving it a sniff to get a lungful of his wonderful scent.
When I got down to the street, Roarke was waiting for me at the car. He leaned against the sleek black body of the vehicle, two coffees clutched in his hands. A thin sweater clung to his muscles, and my heart raced at an embarrassing pace.
I forced my gaze to his and said, “One of those for me?”
“Yep. Espresso, just like you like it.”
“Black as my soul?”
“Precisely.” He grinned.
I loved that he kept up with my jokes. He handed me the coffee. I took it, my fingertips brushing his. He pulled away like I’d burned him, his gaze turning opaque.
Despite the heated looks he sometimes gave me, and our even hotter kiss, he didn’t want to touch me if he could help it.
Frowning, I headed around to the passenger seat, sliding inside and tossing the borrowed sweater on the back seat as Roarke pulled away from the curb.
“So, do you have an Underpath that leads straight to Cambridge?” We’d use the same Underpath entrance we always did—the one in the alley next to Mad Mordecai’s tea shop in the Historic District. But on the other end, I’d love it if we could just pop out right in Cambridge without having to rely on one of his demon chauffeurs. I really didn’t want to see what one would do around me. Would it disobey Roarke’s orders?
“Yes,” Roarke said as he turned into the business district. Traffic was fierce since it was rush hour, and he weaved in and out of the other cars. “There’s an Underpath in a haunted pub.”
“Lots of pubs seem to be exits for your Underworld transpo-network. Why pubs?”
He shrugged. “They’re all so old, with thousands of people passing through over the centuries, that they’re usually haunted. Someone inevitably dies and doesn’t want to leave the party.”
Made sense. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, noting the controlled way he drove the car. Minimal movement, no jerking or speeding up too quickly. Certainly no slamming on the breaks.
Everything about Roarke was precise. Controlled.
Like how he hadn’t kissed me since that first time four days ago.
Why was that?
Just the memory made my skin heat. It’d been the best kiss I’d ever had. He’d clearly wanted me. He’d even said he liked me. That I was special. Which, I’d admit, I liked. A heck of a lot. Who wouldn’t?
But since then, he hadn’t made a single move. Except to look at me. And boy, did he look. I could feel the heat of his gaze like fire. They weren’t neutral glances. Nor even friendly.
He wanted me.
But he did nothing about it. Didn’t even talk to me, really.
“So, how do you know this guy at Cambridge?” I asked, desperate to get my mind off the mystery of Roarke. “What exactly did he help you with?”
He glanced at me quickly, indecision on his face. “Something I couldn’t do myself.”
Talk about dodging the question. “Yeah, I know. How?”
I was prying, but I didn’t care. I wanted something to prove I knew him. That I could trust him. That I wasn’t being an idiot for liking him.
He sighed so quietly and briefly I almost didn’t catch it. “Horatio, who we’re going to see, was friends with someone I cared for. He tried to help him but couldn’t.”
“Your brother?”
“Oh, look, we’re here.” He pulled the car to the curb and turned it off, hopping out so quickly that one could assume the car was on fire.
So, looked like I wouldn’t be getting answers to my questions any time soon. Roarke’s secrets would stay his secrets. And it was damned hard to trust someone who kept so many.
It was damned hard, but I managed not to dwell on the fact that I, too, kept many secrets. If I was going to be a hypocrite, I wasn’t going to think so hard on it.
I followed Roarke across the street, dodging a group of fae revelers. Their wings drooped slightly, a clear sign of fae drunkenness. We dodged them and continued on.
It wasn’t late, but the party started early here in the Historic District. This part of town had the highest percentage of bars per street, so folks usually came here to party. P & P was where the hipsters went, the ones who wanted to play checkers while sipping old Scotch. The Historic District was where you went if you wanted to dance in bars while drinking dollar shots.
I liked both options.
Roarke led me into the alley, reaching for my hand as we neared the spot in the wall where the portal was hidden from all eyes but Roarke’s. I gripped his hand tightly, not wanting to become separated. He’d made it clear how dangerous that could be.
Roarke squeezed back, making my heart speed up at the feel of his palm beneath mine.
No matter how much my conscious mind might be wary of him, my subconscious was ready to get aboard the Roarke train. Headed to Roarke & Me City, population: 2.
I snickered at my stupid humor, then glanced up at him to see him watching me with that same strange expression. His dark eyes were hot, but his hands were clenched in fists. Like he wanted to reach out and touch but didn’t dare.
“Ready?” I demanded, annoyed with the mixed signals of hot eyes and cold behavior.
“Yeah.” He tugged me forward gently. “Remember, don’t let go.”
“I know.”
For good measure, he looped his arm over my head and wrapped it around my shoulder, making me shift my arm so that I could maintain my grip on his hand. I shivered at the heat of him against my side.
He reached for the wall, light glowing around his hand. Magic surged on the air, moving outward from his palm toward the wall. The familiar pale gray glow lit the wall, looking a bit like a passage.
We stepped in, darkness crashing around us as gravity disappeared. I clung to the feeling of Roarke at my side as my stomach plunged. The ether sucked us in, sending us on a rollercoaster through the blackness.
A moment later, we slowed. A door glowed in front of us, and Roarke pulled me through, then let go of me and stepped away as soon as physically possible. Like I burned him.
Only problem was that we walked straight into the middle of a rollicking bar fight. I shoved aside one guy who nearly flattened me, and Roarke stepped between two others.
“Settle down.” His voice was deep and commanding.
The men immediately stopped fighting, but didn’t look at Roarke. The enchantment that obscured activity around the Underpath entrance kept the men from realizing we’d just walked out of nowhere, b
ut they’d still responded to the command in his voice.
With the fight settled, the pub was cozy, lit with Christmas lights that looked like they stayed up year round. It was late, probably past midnight, but the pub was still full of happy people. Two ghosts sat in the corner, visible only to me. They waved. I tried to ignore them, looking around the room instead. A fire blazed in the hearth, next to which sat a demon.
I blinked, then squinted.
Yep. A demon. He could pass for human, but something in his strange gaze—which was riveted on me—was clearly demon. Could I recognize him because of my Ubilaz powers?
This pub was full of supernaturals, but all of them passed for human, and there was no way a demon would be allowed in a place like this.
He stood, his eyes still trained on me, and stepped toward us. I turned my gaze straight ahead as we wove through the tables of patrons drinking pints of dark beer, but kept my senses alert in case he followed us.
It was snowing when we stepped outside, fat fluffy flakes falling on the historic street. I shivered and zipped my jacket. It was dead quiet out here—not a person to be seen on the entire street. Behind us, the buildings were Tudor, their distinct black timber and white plaster looking so perfect that you’d think it was Disney World’s version of England. Except it was legit. On the other side of the street, the massive, ornate stone buildings of the university soared into the dark night. They looked like the fanciest old churches America could boast, with intricate stone architecture and ornate glass windows, but most were probably academic buildings.
I looked up at Roarke. “It’s possible we’re being followed.”
“I noticed that.” Roarke turned left and headed down the street at a fast pace.
I followed. “He was a demon, right? Even though he looked human?”
“Yeah.” Roarke studied the university buildings as we hurried along. A tall wrought iron wall separated them from the street.
I glanced behind us, noting the demon stepping out of the pub and looking around. He was only ten yards behind and closing in fast.
There was nowhere I could go in the whole world that demons wouldn’t perk up at the sight of me and follow.
I stopped and turned, meeting the demon head on.
“Abomination.” Its voice was gravelly, its eyes trained on me as it reached for a dagger at its belt. “Power thief.”
I swung back and punched him in the nose, following it up with a knee to the gut. He bent over, wheezing. I was about to draw my sword and go for the kill shot when I pulled up short.
I couldn’t. Or I’d risk taking whatever power he had.
Roarke joined me.
The words burned as I asked, “Will you finish him off? I don’t want to take his powers.”
The demon lunged for me, knife outstretched and nose pouring blood. Roarke grabbed him and swiftly broke his neck, then dropped the body.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Any time.” Roarke gestured to a section of the wrought iron wall. “We can go in here.”
There was no gate. “We gonna jump over?” I stepped near and gasped. The electric prickle of a protection charm stung my skin.
“Not yet.” Roarke stepped up to the wall, then drew back his fist and slammed it into the invisible wall created by the protection charm. Bright white lines radiated out from his fist as he tore through the ether, and the enchantment broke. The prickling that had bothered me disappeared. My muscles relaxed just slightly.
“Now we jump over.” Roarke turned and cupped his hands low.
I stepped into them, and he hefted me up. I gripped the cold iron and pulled myself over.
With a heave, he tossed the demon’s body over the wall, then jumped over.
“What’d you do that for?” I asked as he landed silently beside me.
“Don’t want a human stumbling over him before he disappears. At least the campus is full of other supernaturals.”
Good point. I turned to face the campus, gasping at the sight. It hadn’t looked like this from the other side of the wall. Old-fashioned street lamps glittered with sparkly light. Magic light, not flame, like they were full of hundreds of fireflies. The light fell on the ornate old buildings, making them appear to glow. And though the snow gathered on the grass on either side of the walk, the pathways were clear and dry. Roses bloomed on bushes despite the freezing temperature. It gave the whole place an enchanted air.
The protection charm on the fence must have hidden the obvious signs of magic.
“Wow, maybe I should have studied harder.” Or gone to school at all. The fact that I could even read was a miracle, considering the only parts of my childhood that I could remember took place in a freaking dungeon.
Roarke shoved the body behind a snow-covered rosebush and glanced up at me. “You could still study here if you wanted. You’re smart enough.”
A smile tugged at my mouth as I imagined the libraries that this place must have. They’d be huge and old and beautiful. I loved my trove full of books, but there was nothing like that feeling of discovery in libraries.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.” His gaze was serious, but it moved away from mine quickly.
“How do we find your buddy?” I asked, determined to change the subject. It was hard to maintain any kind of objectivity around him when he was complimenting me.
“That’s the thing,” he said. “I’ve never been to his office. Just my, ah….friend.”
He’d been about to say brother. I was sure of it.
“I do know that his college is somewhere in the middle of campus,” he said. “The whole place is laid out as courtyards surrounded by buildings. Each is a college. A river that runs through the whole campus. I thought you could use your seeker sense to find it.”
Nerves skated through me. Of course he wanted me to use my dragon sense on the fly, something I wasn’t a huge fan of. I preferred to have my books to give me a boost.
“I can try.” My gaze roved the campus, noting the many buildings and alleys and tiny areas. It was a freaking maze—and that was just the part I could see from here. “But info helps me. And I know almost nothing about this guy.”
“I think he works at Boadica’s College. It’s dedicated to the pursuit of magical control. Horatio Penderren is a Mind Mage.”
“A Mind Mage? What kind?” They could be dangerous. Each controlled a different portion of the mind. Those who could manipulate the thalamus, for example, could cause great pain for their enemies.
“He can manipulate people’s self-control. Which means he could help you manage your magic.”
“Makes sense. Well, let me try.”
I closed my eyes and focused on what I knew, calling upon my dragon sense. The faintest quiver pulled at my middle, but not enough to get a target on where we were going. So I imagined how much I wanted to control this power. My dragon sense relied on desire as much as knowledge, so if I didn’t know enough to find this guy, then I was going to focus on how danged much I wanted to find him.
Controlling my magic was the only way I’d survive. With these demons after me, and now with the Order on my tail, I needed to get a handle on my magic fast. The desire to control my power was so strong that I could almost taste it. I imagined it tasted like boxed Merlot.
It did the trick.
The familiar tug about my middle directed me into the campus and slightly north.
“I’ve got something.” I set off down the path, momentarily pretending I was a student here. It was a lovely image, quickly replaced by the realization that I was hooked on my high-adrenaline lifestyle. I loved books, but I loved hunting treasure and demons just as much.
The thought of demons made me glance behind us to see if any followed. None did. But if someone saw us, would they realize we were intruders? I quickened my pace.
Roarke kept pace with me as we hurried by the ornate buildings, his gaze alert as he studied our surroundings. The deeper we walked into the university, the more
obvious it became that this place was eight hundred years old. Lights glowed behind ancient, mullioned glass windows, shining on people bent over books. The feel of the magic grew stronger, too, varying signatures competing for dominance.
In addition to the usual Magica signatures, I got a whiff of fur and the feel of fangs nipping my skin.
“Do shifters study here, too?” I asked.
“Yes.”
The path we followed terminated at a massive wall of prickly green hedge. On either side loomed two tall, ancient buildings, their ornate stonework seeming to form eyes that glared down on us. There was nowhere to go but through the bushes or the buildings.
I called upon my dragon sense. It pulled toward the hedge. There was a small gap right in the middle.
“Twenty bucks that’s a hedge maze.”
“Not taking that bet. You’re right.”
“Let’s go.” I led the way in, following my dragon sense.
Inside, roses bloomed on the hedge walls. Snow crystalized their petals, but the scent was still rich. We were only a few feet in when the tall hedges cut out the light of the lamps that had dotted the main path. We had to rely upon moonlight, which there was precious little of. The snow clouds obscured most of its glow.
A moment later, glittering lights appeared ahead of us, leading the way. They were bright in the dark. Enchanting.
“They’re a trick,” Roarke said.
I blinked and shook my head, trying to clear the slight haze in my mind that the lights had created. He was right. As soon as we came to a branch in the path, my dragon sense pulled in the opposite direction of the lights. I turned, heading down the narrow lane with Roarke at my side. Without the guiding lights, it was darker, so I drew my sword and fed it some of my Phantom power. It was a trick I’d worked on, and the blue glow gave us some light to see by. Now that Roarke knew what I was—or at least, part of what I was—so I could use a bit of my strange magic in front of him.
“This maze is clever,” I said. “I bet we’re going into a more protected area.”
