by Sarah Piper
Sophie made me swear I wouldn’t tell a soul, both of us giggling like teenagers as she spilled all the sweet and sexy details. She and Jael been flirting for months, all of it reaching a crescendo that night when they’d finally shared a kiss that led to another kiss that led to… well, everything else.
Until I found Haley’s napkin, I believed I was the only one other than Sophie and Jael who knew.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
The only thing I was sure about was that I needed to talk to Jael alone. So when dawn’s first light poked through the clouds the following morning, I sent a little prayer up to Sophie, and slipped out of the house as silent as smoke, leaving the two sleeping, snoring, way-too-overprotective demons passed out on my living room floor behind.
If you didn't know where to look, Illuminae was nearly impossible to find. Fortunately, I’d been delivering here for years and spent enough time with Sophie on the inside to know the club’s cloaking tricks.
From the outside, the building looked like an abandoned storefront, its crumbling bricks covered in graffiti, the windows so caked in grime you couldn’t see through them.
The entrance was below sidewalk level, down a narrow, seemingly endless staircase hidden under a pair of rotting wooden storm doors. To anyone else it looked like a delivery entrance or a cellar, and one peek into the dark abyss beyond was enough to scare off even the most curious urban explorers.
I yanked open one of the doors and headed down the stairs, pulling the door shut behind me. It felt like an hour before I reached the bottom, and from there I walked straight ahead down and equally claustrophobic corridor, pitch black but for the dim blue light spilling out around the club entrance at the end of the hall.
I recognized the bouncer—Leila, a friend of Sophie’s.
“Gray!” Leila beamed when she saw me. I was glad my first fae encounter of the evening was with someone I actually liked. Leila had waist-length, shocking white hair and bright yellow eyes, the exotic combo reminding me of some kind of Arctic cat. Her gossamer slip dress left little to the imagination, but I was digging her thigh-high red leather boots.
I could tell immediately that she hadn’t heard the news, which meant that Detective Alvarez hadn’t been here yet. Part of me was pissed—wasn’t he supposed to be turning over every stone?—but I was also grateful. It meant I’d get straight, unrehearsed reaction from Jael.
Besides, it’d only been about a day and a half. With three dead witches on his hands, Alvarez probably had lots of other clues to track down first.
“Oh my God,” Leila said, “where the hell is Sophie? She blew off work all weekend. No one can reach her.” She leaned in close and lowered her voice, her whisper like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. “But don't worry. Kallayna talks a good game, but she’d never fire Sophie. The customers would revolt—she’s our best bartender.”
“Sophie’s… taking some personal time.” I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth—not yet. Right now I needed all of my strength to talk to Jael, to find out why Haley had sent me here. “I’m actually here for Jael. Is he around?”
“Sure,” Leila said. “Be right back.”
I promised to watch the door while Leila went to find him.
Even though it was dead inside at this early hour, the place was still lit up for a party. The club had no windows, though you wouldn't know it to look around. fae magic bewitched the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor to look like an endless starry night, as if you were floating in deep space. Every few minutes, a comet streaked overhead, and in the distance, a new star was born. The bar itself seemed invisible—just a collection of floating bottles and glassware—until you got up close and realized it was just a series of mirrors and tricks.
If you weren't used to it, the whole place made you feel drunk and disoriented before you’d even taken your first sip of fae potion.
Other than absinthe, I had no idea what was in most of the bottles I delivered here from Waldrich, but I was pretty sure it wasn't just Jack Daniels and Bombay gin.
Like Leila, Jael was tall, thin, and fine-boned, with the same white hair and yellow, cat-like eyes. He wore his hair pulled back into loose, low ponytail, which only accentuated the severity of his sharp cheekbones and lush lips. Dressed in dark jeans and a tight black button-down, he looked more like a Calvin Klein model than a club deejay, and even less like a Seelie prince.
Well, aside from the otherworldly beauty.
I couldn't take my eyes off the pair as they crossed the room toward me, gliding through the faux-starry night like a majestic god and goddess.
Leila resumed her post at the door, leaving me with the prince.
“Miss Desario.” Jael pressed a kiss my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. He was definitely pretty, but Sophie had assured me his delicate looks were deceiving. It was easy to see why she’d fallen for his charms. “I'm told you have a message for me?"
“Is there someplace we can talk privately?” I asked.
“Of course.” He led me across the club and into a small sound booth the size of a walk-in closet, most of which was full of electronic equipment.
He closed the door and turned to face me, his arms completely still at his sides. He didn't fidget, didn't cross his arms or smooth out his shirt or lean back against the door or do a single thing that would have made me think for even a second that he was a regular guy.
“I presume this is about Sophie?” he asked, cool as ever. “She hasn’t returned my calls. I fear she’s upset with me.”
There was no easy way to say it, and I needed his honest gut reaction. No sugar coating.
“Sophie was murdered Saturday, Jael.”
His cold smile didn't falter, but I saw the agony in his eyes—the briefest flash of deep, heart-wrenching pain—and then it was gone.
I blew out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t honestly suspected Jael, but his reaction—however slight—was all the confirmation I needed.
The fae prince was innocent.
I gave him a few more seconds to sit with the bombshell, then said, “I know that you cared for—”
“Come with me,” he said.
Okay, so I guess we’re skipping the whole bonding-over-our-shared-pain thing…
Just as well. I wasn't really in the mood to cry on his shoulder and reminisce. Sophie may have been sleeping with him, but Jael wasn't the kind of guy you brought home to hang out with your roommate over a few beers. We had absolutely nothing in common.
Other than Sophie…
Steeling myself, I followed him out of the sound booth and up a set of nearby stairs to a glass corridor that overlooked the bar and the main dance floor below.
At the end of the corridor, a solid black door with a silver doorknob awaited, shockingly plain compared to its magical surroundings. Jael retrieved a key from his pocket and slid it into the keyhole above the knob.
Looking over his shoulder, he said, “I asked her to return with me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, then cringed. In the small space of the hallway, my voice sounded loud and crass compared to his. “Where?”
Jael frowned and shook his head as if I was wasting his time with my stupid human questions. “To court, Miss Desario. Where else?”
“But… that would mean…” I wasn't as up-close-and-personal with fae culture as my best friend, but I was pretty sure that when a fae prince invited a human to court, it was basically the equivalent of a marriage proposal.
“She declined, of course.” Jael pushed open the door, gesturing for me to go in ahead of him, then closing and locking it behind us. He touched the wall just inside, and the room was bathed in a soft glow, no brighter than the light of a full moon, but plenty enough to see by. “She told me she had important work to finish here. And, of course, there was you to consider.”
His cat-eyes narrowed, trapping me in a gaze so vicious I worried I might have been wrong about his innocence. But then it was gone, replaced with cool detachment, and I recog
nized the brief flare of emotion for what it was: jealousy.
Sophie had chosen me over him. That's how he saw it.
“I didn't know," I said. It was another secret between us, another layer in the deep iceberg of my best friend’s life. “Sophie never told—”
Jael held up his hand. “That is not why you were sent here. Please, take a seat.”
At the center of the room, eight leather executive chairs surrounded a large conference table—again, a touch of normalcy completely incongruous to this otherworldly place.
I took a seat at the head of the table, swiveling in my chair to watch Jael’s movements. He was behind me, and I didn't like it.
“Jael, what—”
“Quiet.” In a flash, he turned to the wall and pressed his palms flat against it, whispering incantations in a language I couldn't understand. It sounded absolutely ancient. The wall glowed a strange shade of deep purple I had never seen in the natural world, then slid sideways to reveal a hidden closet. From the tallest shelf he retrieved a metal lockbox like the kind they used at banks.
“This belonged to her, locked here for safekeeping each night. Do you know what it is?" he asked, setting it on the table before me. His reverent tone suggested it was important.
My heartbeat kicked into high gear. If this were a movie, the box could’ve contained anything—money, fake passports, drugs, diamonds, paternity test results. But as far as I knew, there was only one thing Sophie would go to the trouble of locking up in a secret fae vault.
I shook my head, not wanting to admit it. Not wanting to even believe it. “I have no idea.”
Jael reached down inside his shirt and pulled out a shimmering chain so fine it was nearly invisible. A tiny but intricate golden key dangled from the end.
Unclasping the chain from his neck, he said, “Sophie instructed me to give you this in the event of her departure from this realm.”
I held out my hand, and he dropped the key into my palm. It was much heavier than it looked, warming instantly at my touch.
“The key unlocks the box, but you're the only one who can unlock what's inside.” Jael watched me for a moment, his pale skin luminescent in the dim room. He really was beautiful, and despite his coldness, my heart ached for his loss. He might not be willing—or even able—to show it, but I sensed the depth of his pain. It felt nearly as endless as mine.
He really loved her…
“This room will afford you complete privacy,” he said. “Once I close the door, nothing you say, do, think, or cast will echo beyond these walls.”
I nodded, grateful for this particular bit of fae magic.
After Jael left, I wasted no time unlocking the box and folding back the lid. That was the easy part.
Accepting responsibility for the contents nestled inside?
That was another story altogether.
Nineteen
Gray
I reached into the box and retrieved the objects inside—a slim silver dagger in a jewel-encrusted sheath and a hardcover book the size of an old encyclopedia, its faded black cover etched with a silver pentacle surrounded by flowering vines.
Hundreds of bright, tiny threads crisscrossed the book, locking it in a cage of light that glowed red and pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
A blood spell.
Jael didn't need to tell me I was the only one who could see those threads.
I set the book on the table and unsheathed the dagger, taking a few deep, shaky breaths.
A witch’s book of shadows was more than a diary. It was a reckoning of her life as a witch, an accounting of her days, her magical hopes and dreams, her trials and tribulations, triumphs and failures, and yes—her spellcraft. Other than the clothes on my back, my own book of shadows was the only thing I’d taken from my old life in New York, and even though I’d stopped practicing magic the moment I crossed state lines, the book was still my most cherished possession, locked up in a fireproof safe and buried in our backyard. It was a part of me, just as Sophie’s was a part of her.
The fact that she’d secured it inside the club and bound it with a blood spell tuned only to me meant she was keeping even more secrets than I thought.
Part of me—a big part—didn't want to know what lurked behind that black cover. But Sophie wanted me to know. No matter what she’d revealed to Haley and the coven witches, no matter what intimacies she’d shared with Jael, I was the only one she’d trusted with this.
“No more secrets, girl.” Holding my breath, I sliced my palm with the blade, then made a tight fist, dripping blood onto the pentacle. My blood filled in the lines forming the pentagram symbol, tiny channels that now glowed a deep red behind the silver vines.
The room filled with the scent of apples and vanilla, and I closed my eyes, letting the warm and gentle touch of what could only be Sophie’s magic envelope me. Unlike Haley and the others, I’d never smelled it before; Sophie and I had never practiced together.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in my clearing again, my hands pressed to the white stone surface of the pedestal. Instead of the glowing indigo pentacle I’d last seen here, Sophie's book of shadows lay open before me, a soft breeze rippling through the pages and revealing her collection of herbal and crystal correspondences, custom Tarot spreads and readings, and sketches of plant life and moon phases.
I traced my fingers over a Tarot reading dated last week, but before I could read it, something In the meadow beyond the pedestal caught my attention—a woman, dancing barefoot in the dewy grass, her hair shimmering like a rainbow.
Sophie!
Abandoning the book, I ran to her, heart pounding in my chest.
“You found me,” she said, beaming. “I knew you'd come.”
She gave me her brightest smile, the one I’d seen nearly every day for seven years. It was almost exactly like the real thing, but not quite.
I pulled her into my arms and held on tight, anyway. Deep down I knew it wasn't really her—just the combined effect of our joint magic on the book, my mind conjuring up the image and feel of Sophie to go along with her written words. But at that moment, I didn’t care. This connection, this magical bond… It was the closest I would ever get to her again.
“I miss you so much.” I pulled back to look at her. Projection or not, I wanted to memorize every detail of her face, catalogue all the things I hadn’t truly taken the time to look at while she was live, even if my subconscious had.
Back then, I didn’t think I’d need to.
Sophie nodded, but her smile was fading fast. “We don't have much time.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
Sophie and I used to say that it felt like we’d known each other our entire lives, but it turns out that wasn’t the case at all.
I’d learned more about my best friend in the days since her death than in the entire span of our friendship. Part of that was because she’d kept things from me, but most of it was my fault. I’d been too stubborn, too proud, too damn wrapped up in my own shit to think for one minute that Sophie might have secrets. That she might want to share those things with me.
There was so much I wanted to say to her, so much I needed to say, but just like I knew this projection wasn't really Sophie, I also knew she hadn’t entrusted her book of shadows to me just so I could absolve my guilt.
“We need to talk, don’t we,” I said. Not a question.
She spread her palms before me. Her favorite Tarot deck—the one we’d last used that last morning in the kitchen—materialized in her hands.
I smiled sadly. “I didn't bring any tea.”
“That’s okay. maybe next time.”
I followed her to an even spot in the grass, and we sat down across from each other, a black silk cloth spread on the ground between us. The eerie black trees around us crept closer, their bare branches stretching endlessly into the sky.
Sophie turned over the first card.
I gasped. It was my least favorite card in the deck—in any d
eck. More than the Death card, the Tower struck a chord of fear deep in my heart.
Sophie's grin was almost manic, though. She wiggled her eyebrows, and in a singsong voice, said, “Don't fear the storm, Gray. Be ready for it.”
It's what she’d always said about the Tower. It was one of her favorite cards—never mind the sudden, shocking pain the Tower typically heralded. Sophie was all about the aftermath. The inevitable fresh start that came when everything you’d once held so dearly crumbled down around you.
Taking a deep breath, I focused on the imagery of the card. From the depths of a black sky, the moon shot a bright beam of light into a massive brick tower, smashing the top to bits. People jumped from the highest windows to avoid the devastation; one man already lay bent and broken on the ground.
“Something bad is coming, isn't it?” I whispered.
“Something big, that’s for sure.” Sophie shrugged. “Bad is relative.”
“You sense this? I mean, you did? Before?”
Sophie nodded. “I think you sense it, too.”
She was right. Even before the incident with the man in the alley, something had been feeling… off. Like the calm before the storm, as cliché as that sounded.
And something told me that Bean’s resurrection, Sophie's murder, and Death’s arrival were still just parts of that calm—that the real stormy shit hadn’t even hit the fan yet.
“Draw another card,” I said.
The Magician appeared next, and Sophie covered him crosswise with the reversed King of Swords. Normally I liked the King—he often showed up when I was feeling sorry for myself and needed a reminder that I had the power to kick life in the ass. But the reversal gave him a sinister cast, one that spoke of madness, brutality, and domination. With the tyrant King covering the Magician, there was no mistaking the message.
Hunters.
I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to remind myself that I wasn't alone in this. That I had Ronan. Darius. Asher. That despite Norah’s threats, Haley and some of the others might come around, too.
