Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic (Dowser Series)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “See how the magic slides around but not over the middle stone,” I murmured to Kett, completely ignoring the sorcerer. Clark looked as if he was gearing up for some extensive rant, flushed cheeks and all.

  Kett leaned forward, but I knew he couldn’t see magic as well as I could. “Perhaps,” he said. Vampires hated being wrong. I was surprised he was willing even to come halfway.

  “The rune magic paired with the natural magic in the stone wants to be helpful, wants to heed your command, but you have them fighting each other.”

  “Every ancient spellbook …” Clark sputtered. “This is absolutely preposterous to suggest. That I … that I … a sorcerer easily forty-five years your senior —”

  I reached out and shifted the middle stone out of alignment. Clark lunged for me. Kett’s hand was at his neck before the sorcerer had gotten to within an inch of my fingers.

  I tugged the left stone into the middle spot and replaced it with the one that had been in the middle before.

  The magic settled over the three stones. Then it flowed in a loop over and around all three. The taste of the books stored beneath Clark’s feet disappeared.

  I looked up at the sorcerer with a smile.

  One of his hands was pinned to the desk by Kandy, the other by Drake. I’d been too intrigued by the magic stones to see either of them move. The fledgling guardian looked far too interested in the sorcerer’s ring.

  Kett released his hold on Clark’s neck so swiftly that he actually stumbled forward.

  In a breath, all three — Kett, Drake, and Kandy — were arrayed beside and behind me once again.

  Clark blinked his eyes rapidly a few times. Then he remembered to close his mouth. He let whatever spell he had called up in the ring drop with an exhalation.

  “I didn’t mean to bully you,” I said. “I’m just not great at talking through magical theory.”

  Clark pulled his reading glasses off and peered down at the three stones. Then he rubbed his eyes and looked again. “I … I …”

  “You’re welcome. Of course, we four will always know what lies beneath your feet.”

  Clark blanched.

  “I was joking, sorcerer.” I turned to Kandy. “Have you noticed that everyone is so serious today?”

  “Yeah,” the green-haired werewolf answered. “And you’re not even wearing the sword. The blade really ups your bad-ass quotient.”

  Clark swallowed. “Thank you, dowser,” he said. “I see. I don’t quite believe, but —”

  “It works.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, to my question.”

  Clark licked his lips. “Yes, I would be capable. But you must understand, it would be suicide. If the spell didn’t kill me, then the demon would. Only the foolhardy would think they could control such a thing.”

  “Yeah, well, foolhardy is kind of my sister’s thing.”

  “Have you, Clark Dean Adamson, laid eyes on or heard of the black witch?” Kett asked, evoking the sorcerer’s full name in that formal way of his. The fact that he knew the sorcerer’s name spoke of their history together. A history I didn’t have the time or inclination to dig into right now.

  Clark swallowed again. “I have not met her myself, but I can give you a name.”

  Of course he could. Sorcerers seemed really big on selling each other out. I would have thought such individualism would be a relief after coming to understand the almost enmeshed nature of the witches’ Convocation. Every little thing a witch did was accountable to her coven, and all coven’s where heavily governed by the Convocation. Put one toe out of line and you were black-listed and punished. Then, hunted — if you ran — as Sienna was now hunted. But a witch would never write the names of her coven members on a piece of paper and hand it over to Adepts of unknown power.

  The sorcerers’ individualism bred mistrust and competition. At least it was currently to my benefit. Hopefully, Sienna wasn’t reaping the rewards as well.

  ∞

  Driving in London was an exercise in insanity. Thankfully, traffic moved slowly, because everything was twisted around and on the wrong side.

  It also seemed as if there was a tube station every block or so … that’s how many people lived in London and took public transportation. When I suggested we leave the SUV and try out the tube to Piccadilly, Kett looked at me as if I’d lost it. I guessed that vampires and underground rail didn’t mix.

  While walking back to the vehicle from Clark’s bookstore, I kept stepping off curbs after looking in the wrong direction. I’d already been saved by three Londoners from death by double-decker bus. Kandy had nearly torn the arm off the first guy who blocked me. Thankfully, she figured out he was trying to save my life before removing any of his limbs.

  So we drove. Kett was at the wheel while Kandy pored over maps on the iPad in the back seat — orienting herself, she said. Drake was working his way through a dozen crumpets that I’d insisted we stop for, but then didn’t feel like eating. Yep, my world was upside down.

  This wasn’t a vacation, though that didn’t stop me from staring at Buckingham Palace when Kandy pointed it out through the buildings. I think Kett was trying to keep to the back roads, except such a thing really didn’t seem to exist in London.

  “You don’t like it here,” I said as I watched Kett wring his hands on the steering wheel for the third time. The vampire wasn’t big on extraneous movement. He barely turned the wheel to navigate the SUV.

  “It’s London,” he answered.

  I let it drop and changed the subject. “The sorcerers don’t seem very organized. Not as political as other Adepts.”

  “They have their League, but I doubt they all meet more often than once a year, except in dire cases.”

  “The magic is old here. Even with all the renovated buildings. It’s old and well used. Almost tapped out.”

  “A witch would feel that way in any city with such history. Disconnected from the magic. There are not many witches of power that reside in London.”

  “Because of the magic or because of the sorcerers?”

  “The sorcerers are not the seat of power here.”

  “No? There’s no League liaison we should meet?”

  Kandy shifted forward in her seat, though she didn’t have to get closer to hear our conversation.

  Kett stilled, his gaze on the road, and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer. He often chose to not answer. Information was power to vampires.

  “There are many creatures of magic that call London home,” he finally said.

  “Many different types of Adept?”

  “These powerful few would not title themselves as such, yet it is their city. We have thirty-six hours before we must present ourselves. I suggest we be gone in less than twenty-four.”

  Well, that was an oddly delivered and underplayed threat … if it was a threat.

  “There aren’t many shapeshifters here either,” Kandy said before I could question Kett further.

  “Just your wolf hunk all on his lonesome, eh?” I teased.

  Kandy glowered at me. “He’s here for school.”

  “Shapeshifters, like witches, prefer an environment where nature can be easily accessed,” Kett said.

  “But not vampires,” I said, bringing us back on point.

  “No. Not vampires,” Kett agreed.

  “Because vampires are already magic,” Drake offered from the backseat. “They don’t need to tap into natural sources to replenish.”

  “Blood is pretty natural,” Kandy said with a sneer.

  “Exactly,” Drake responded. “There’s more blood in cities.”

  “So London is full of vampires?” I asked. As I peered out at the gray, drizzly day and the people swamping the sidewalks, it made sense.

  “No,” Kett answered. His tone was measured and thoughtful. “One vampire and his … brethren, if they’re in his good graces this century.”

  Something ab
out Kett’s even tone and careful phrasing made me shudder. I don’t think I’d ever heard him search for a word before, not in mid sentence.

  “Are you … are you one of his brethren?”

  Kett inclined his head. “I am connected to a child of his.”

  “Big vamp is your gramps?” Kandy asked.

  “By blood,” Kett replied, his tone clipped.

  I was surprised he was still answering questions. I was scared, actually, that he was still answering questions. It meant he thought the knowledge was important … and vampires only ranked life, death, and power as important, not necessarily in that order.

  “So in thirty-six hours we have to go meet your blood grandfather?”

  “No. One of his lieutenants.”

  “One of his children?”

  “If you prefer to think of them that way. As long as you understand that he hasn’t divided his power in over a millennium.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Energy cannot be created.”

  “I know, only harnessed.”

  “Yes, so vampires do not … breed often or successfully. Only the most powerful manage, and even they must be willing to lose something of themselves. To become lesser for a time.”

  “Vamps don’t give up power easily,” Kandy said.

  “No, “ Kett answered. “And they often loathe the one they have created for that exact reason.”

  He pulled the SUV to the curb in front of a five-storey apartment building. Not that it looked like any apartment I’d ever seen before. It was … very British. Hell, I had no idea how else to describe it. It was brick, stone, casings, and porticos or whatever … big, cased, paned windows … wooden door with a huge brass knocker. That sort of thing.

  Kett turned to step out of the vehicle.

  “Wait, wait,” I murmured.

  Kett paused.

  Kandy and Drake, always eager to be moving, tumbled out onto the street. The wrong side of the street — for me, at least.

  “What are you not saying?” I asked. “Is this vampire — the lieutenant guy. Is he your … dad?”

  “He is not my maker,” Kett replied. He turned to look at me. I could see his magic dancing in his skin — glimmers of red shards — and in his icy blue eyes.

  “Am I dragging Drake and Kandy into danger?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “I meant with the vampires of London.”

  Kett grinned, showing off his perfectly white, straight teeth. He was getting far too comfortable with that particular human gesture.

  “I know something happened to you while we were talking to Edmonds.”

  “You know me well.” Kett’s grin widened into a smile.

  “Stop smiling at me. Is big bad vamp going to try to fang us all or what?”

  Kett laughed. The sound was oddly husky for his usually cool tones. “No one will bite anyone without permission.”

  “But we need to be gone within twenty-four hours.”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Otherwise, there are many ways to obtain permission, right?” Yep, I wasn’t dimwitted all the time. Kett only had the okay to be in London for thirty-six hours. After that, his companions would be considered snacks. My mind boggled. Witch politics had always seemed so complicated, but at least they didn’t demand blood tithes.

  “You can’t tell me that every Adept in London allows the vampires to drink from them.”

  Kett sighed. It was a heavy, deliberate sound. Deliberate in the fact that he had to inhale to speak or sigh, but not otherwise. Heavy because he was choosy when using it. “You’re not just some Adept, Jade. And yes, any Adept of power in London forms some sort of allegiance with the big bad — as you call him — or his brethren.”

  Great. London belonged to the vampires … or at least one particular vampire.

  “Do they at least wear capes and turn into bats or fog? It would make them easier to identify.”

  “You’re thinking of Dracula’s crew. You need to go much farther east to run into them.”

  I’d been joking, but I wasn’t entirely sure Kett was joking back … though his use of the term ‘crew’ made it seem likely.

  “I can see you thinking, dowser,” Kett said. “It looks difficult.”

  Yep, now he was teasing me.

  “You’re awfully peppy all of a sudden, vampire,” I said, not feeling at all playful. “That worries me.”

  Kett nodded. “As it should,” he said.

  Then he climbed out of the SUV.

  Yeah, that wasn’t a joke either. I sighed and followed him out into the drizzly day.

  Three months of serious training in the dragon nexus and I was still lagging behind … everyone. Being able to kick someone’s ass — even potentially — didn’t make it any easier to figure them out or find them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Peter Sayers, the third sorcerer on Blackwell’s list, the second on Edmond’s post-it, and the name Clark had all too willingly given up, lived just off Piccadilly. I gathered, given the way Clark had phrased it, that this area was supposed to be famous, or at least well known. For me, all the streets and buildings in London were pretty impressive looking, no matter the neighborhood. Sayers’ apartment building was one of those all-brick deals with white-painted trim and paned windows, five storeys high.

  “Nice building,” I said as I joined Kandy, who was leaning against a lamp post and ignoring the never-ending drizzle that appeared to be the sum total of London weather.

  Kandy shrugged. “Looks all the same to me. Big, loud, and too many humans.”

  “Impressive, though. It must be expensive to live right in downtown London.”

  “I doubt he owns the entire building,” Kett said as he stepped up to my left.

  Yeah, vampires weren’t any more easily impressed than dragons. I ignored him. “Shall we buzz?”

  “Already did. You know, while you were getting cozy with the vamp,” Kandy answered. “No one home, apparently.”

  “I don’t feel any wards here,” I said, ignoring the barbed edge of the werewolf’s comment. “Wait … where the hell is Drake?”

  Kandy pointed up and to the right.

  Drake was scaling the building. The thirteen-year-old was jumping from ledge to ledge, pulling himself up on the iron railings that I was pretty sure were only for decoration.

  Kett started laughing.

  Kandy’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she turned to look incredulously at the vampire.

  Yeah, Kett laughing was more remarkable than Drake scaling a five-storey building in broad daylight in the middle of freaking London. London, England. With a population of seven million plus people. All of who seemed to be on the street at any given time.

  I glanced around. Being mostly residential, the sidewalks weren’t as crowded as South Kensington, but there were still people passing by carrying groceries, walking dogs, and parking their cars.

  Kandy started laughing.

  Oh, sweet Jesus. “It’s not funny,” I hissed as I fought the urge to literally start pulling out my hair. “What is he doing?”

  Kandy stopped laughing long enough to answer. “Seeing if the sorcerer is home.”

  “We don’t even know which apartment is his.”

  “4A. It’s on the buzzer. Probably the fifth floor. According to the fledgling, Brits number funny.”

  For some reason this statement made Kett laugh even harder. So then Kandy started laughing again. When had I become the stick-in-the-mud between a vampire and a werewolf? My life had turned completely freaking upside down.

  “We need to get him down,” I said. “Before someone sees him.”

  Police sirens sounded from a few blocks over and I flinched. Jesus, I didn’t even know what to do if Drake got arrested. He didn’t have a passport, and he certainly didn’t look or sound remotely British.

  Any minute, a Londoner was going to glance up and
see the thirteen-year-old jimmying the window on the fifth floor above their heads. That is, once they stopped staring at Kett and Kandy guffawing it up on the sidewalk. Anyone who passed gave us a wide berth. A woman with two toddlers in a double stroller actually crossed the street to avoid passing by the giggle twins.

  Drake got in the window.

  I waited, my hand on my knife, for some explosion of magic as the fledgling disrupted a ward or was confronted by an angry sorcerer.

  Kandy was wiping tears from her eyes. She caught me glaring at her. “What?” she asked. “It’s not like he was going to hurt himself.”

  Kett suddenly stilled and slowly twisted his head to the left, as a cat does when seeing a ghost, or whatever they stare at when they stare at nothing. I followed his gaze but didn’t see anything unusual, besides the fact that we were in London in the first place. It felt like being in the latest Bond film or BBC’s Sherlock — hmm, Sherlock — or a historical documentary.

  The street running perpendicular to us was actually much busier, more of a main thoroughfare. Cars and people were momentarily backed up at the traffic light. They then surged forward a half-car length before the light changed to green. A woman who’d been standing among the curb crowd didn’t move with them. She was channeling the Audrey Hepburn look as hard as she could behind thick, black sunglasses, a three-quarter trench coat, coiffed hair, and slim-legged pants. And, yeah, I know who Audrey Hepburn was. They used her in all those Gap ads a few years back and everyone freaked about tarnishing an icon.

  “I’ll meet you at the hotel, dowser,” Kett said.

  “What? Hotel?”

  “Hotel 41.” Kett tossed the SUV keys toward me. I only managed to catch them out of fear of them hitting my face. “See to the fledgling.”

  And before I could open my mouth to freak all over him because I’d been trying to do just that for the last twenty-four hours, he was gone.

  “I hate it when he does that,” Kandy murmured.

  “It’s a trick,” I said. “I mean, yeah, he moves fast. Faster than you or me, but he can’t teleport. He uses the shadows.”