No one in this place called the Ghost by anything other than “he” or “the druid” and it rubbed me the wrong way. In Nadine’s case, she probably didn’t know his reputation, but did none of the others call him by a real name?
I’d been considering a few different monikers. My top choice was Bugly—as in busted-ass ugly. Since he kept his face hidden with stupid magic-shadow hoods, I was going on the assumption that he was too hideous for the light of day.
That wasn’t a thought I planned to share with Nadine, though. After I’d gone face-to-fangs with a rattlesnake for her, she warmed up to me in a big way, and I didn’t want to ruin our new rapport.
“So what happened with the darkfae?” I prompted.
“He came out of the house two minutes later and the fae went with him into the forest. I bet the darkfae regretted breaking his rules. Aside from the vargs—the big black wolves, you know?—he doesn’t allow fae into the valley so we don’t get hurt.”
Whenever she spoke of the Ghost, her eyes shone with an obvious case of hero-worship. Hoo boy. This was a tricky situation for sure.
As she chatted about her fellow captives—or should I say devotees?—my thoughts wandered. I’d gone into my meeting with the Ghost aware of his reputation and prepared to take him down. Nadine, and presumably the others, had gone to him in search of a rescuer. They’d wanted a new life, and he’d given them a safe place for lost mythics to start over.
Remembering Gregory Stern’s pitch at the youth shelter, I had to reassess his sincerity. How much did he know about this place? Maybe he really believed he was sending mythic kids to a secure, if unorthodox, safe house and not into the clutches of a vicious rogue.
As much as I hated to admit it, the Ghost was living up to his end of the deal. Yeah, life here was painfully simple, but their needs were met, they could train in their magic, and they enjoyed perfectly reasonable amounts of free time. No one hurt them. No one abused them. They didn’t have to sleep on the streets or scrounge for food. They were safe.
But it was still wrong. They were isolated, brainwashed, and convinced the sun shone out of the Ghost’s ass. They were completely at his mercy, but no one realized it. And my questions about the others who’d disappeared from the ranch were still unanswered.
I rubbed a hand over my face. This wasn’t a happy little mythic cult where the Ghost kept a posse of admirers to stroke his ego. He dealt in the dark arts, bought and sold black magic, and associated with darkfae. He was a known killer, a rogue that MagiPol wanted dead or alive, and he was universally feared by the local mythic community.
Whatever he was hiding here, he was hiding it very well.
“You okay, Tori?”
Startled out of my thoughts, I gave Nadine a quick smile. “Just a headache. I got a lot of sun yesterday.”
“Ugh, yeah, I hate weeding the garden too.”
I watched her fold the last couple towels, aching inside. I desperately wanted to save her, but how did I convince her she needed saving?
Morgan stuck her head into the room. “Are you finished yet? Once you put those away, help Nekhii collect eggs from the henhouse.”
Like all my days here, the afternoon passed quickly. I stuck with Nadine, and we breezed through our chores with lots of time to chat. She must have been choking on her tongue to keep so quiet during the first few days, because the floodgates had opened. Without intending it, she had revealed a lot about herself and the others here.
For example, I found out she would be training with Terrance next month—basic sorcery and alchemy. Aaron, Kai, and Ezra had guessed correctly; Nadine did have a mythic bloodline. They’d also guessed correctly that she hadn’t been aware of her heritage. Everything she knew about magic and mythics she’d learned after arriving here.
“Have you talked to Morgan about training?” she asked as we walked through the dusky shadows after dinner, each carrying an empty bucket that had recently held apple peelings. We’d thrown them to the pigs for an after-dinner snack, and as we headed back to the house, the windows glowed invitingly.
“Me?” I’d told the Ghost I wasn’t a mythic, but it seemed he hadn’t shared that tidbit. Though, even if I were one, I wouldn’t have asked Morgan about anything. Her civility hadn’t improved much since our unpleasant first meeting. “Not yet.”
“You should,” Nadine said brightly. “Morgan and Terrance can only do so much for mages and psychics, but they know some tricks and …”
She trailed off, her steps slowing. In the deepening shadows, a figure in black rose to his full height and stepped over the alchemy garden’s fence. The Ghost. He did a lot of nighttime wandering, sometimes gone for a few hours, sometimes vanishing for days. Maybe he hid his secrets outside the valley.
Determination burned through me and I walked off the path. I wanted to see what he was up to. If I could prove he was a nasty piece of work, I could convince his worshippers of the same.
Nadine hesitated, then hurried after me, clutching her bucket. As we drew nearer, movement on my flanks brought me up short. Two giant wolves—vargs—stalked out of the shadows, their red eyes glowing. Damn it. Foiled already.
The Ghost whistled quietly. The wolves released me from their cutting glares and trotted toward him. Taking that as permission, I ambled after the beasts, putting all my acting ability into feigning nonchalance.
Not bothering to acknowledge our approach, the Ghost finished tying a bundle of fresh-cut stems together. Stacked at his feet were two more bundles of twigs and four repurposed wine bottles that held bizarre liquids—one violently pink, one pitch black, one with glowing green bubbles, and one that was yellow with a red blob suspended in the middle.
He considered his pile of stuff, then reached over and plucked the bucket from my grasp. He dumped the plant bundles into the bucket, but unless he could sprout a third hand, he would have a hell of a time carrying everything himself. Folding my arms, I waited to see how he would manage it.
“Um,” Nadine said, almost whispering with sudden shyness. “Would you like some help?”
I’m not sure why, but something about the way his shoulders shifted suggested the question surprised him. He hesitated, then held his bucket out. Excitedly, she set hers down and took the new one.
Lifting the four wine bottles by their necks, two in each hand, he turned to me. I didn’t uncross my arms, debating with myself. I wanted to see what he got up to around here, but I didn’t want to volunteer to be his pack mule.
“Tori,” Nadine hissed out of the corner of her mouth, shooting me a pleading stare.
Ugh. Fine. I would help, but only so as not to ruin her special moment with her hero. I took the bottles from him and tucked them under my arms. Now he was carrying nothing. Lazy ass.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Go where? I didn’t get a chance to ask as he strode away from the garden, his coat flapping behind him. Grumbling under my breath, I followed Nadine as she skipped after him with the bucket of plant trimmings. The two vargs sped ahead of us, their noses to the ground, and I glimpsed two more dark shadows farther out. The fifth one was probably guarding the pasture or something.
The Ghost led the way, but he wasn’t heading toward the house. Not even the barn. He was walking straight toward the tree line, a forested slope rising in our path. I gulped back my apprehension. This was what I’d wanted, right? A chance to see what the Ghost was hiding beyond the valley limits. A chance to see where he went at night.
The forest shadows engulfed us, and the Ghost’s dark silhouette was even more unnerving surrounded by towering trees and crawling roots. He was back in full “bad guy” gear, with his long coat, deep hood, and dark pants. I eyed his gloved hands, remembering the runes tattooed on his forearms and palms.
This time, I didn’t walk out of the trees at the same starting point. Damp leaves rustled underfoot as we forged deeper into the forest. At first we followed a winding path, but as dusk deepened into twilight, I lost sight of the trail. B
irds and squirrels and other critters flitted about, their constant clamor almost disguising how the Ghost made minimal noise as he walked. The crunchy footsteps were all mine and Nadine’s.
Oh, and the vargs? They made no sound at all. I couldn’t see them anymore, but I didn’t doubt they were nearby.
I cradled the potion bottles more tightly. I was a city girl. Give me dark alleys and catcalling sleazebags any day. This forest was creeping me out, and before I lost my cool entirely, I picked up my pace and fell into step beside Nadine.
“Have you ever been in the forest before?” I whispered. I didn’t need to whisper. It just seemed appropriate.
“No,” she murmured, her voice as hushed as mine. “We’re not supposed to leave the valley.”
“You’ve never tried?” I asked in surprise.
“Of course not,” she replied indignantly, then paused. “Have you?”
“Umm.” Maybe this wasn’t something I should admit in front of—
“She tried.”
I started at the Ghost’s deep voice, then glared at the back of his hood. “Oh, so you witnessed that, did you?”
“I didn’t need to see you.”
Pressing my lips together, I considered all possible responses, then went with the obvious choice. “What the hell does that mean?”
He said nothing. Of course.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
The Ghost stopped dead, and I cursed my runaway tongue. The words weren’t too terrible, but I’d accidentally coated them in dripping disdain. Okay, not so accidentally.
He turned, his hidden gaze running over me. I could feel it—that calculating appraisal.
“I should’ve left you behind.”
I blinked, but that was all he said before resuming his trek. Nadine gave me a strange look, then hastened after him. Left me behind? Did he mean he should have left me in the valley, or he should have left me in the park when we met?
And why had his words sent an icy chill deep into my core?
Well, I wasn’t letting him intimidate me. Somewhere under those dark clothes and unnatural shadows was the mythic who’d earned a six-figure MagiPol bounty, yet he’d done no more than act mildly threatening—so far. Something wasn’t adding up with this guy, and I was going to figure it out.
Breaking into a trot, I zipped right past Nadine and matched strides with the Ghost. His shadowy hood angled toward me.
“So,” I drawled, adjusting my grip on the bottles, “where’re we going?”
Silence.
“What’s all this stuff?”
Not a word.
“What happens if I drop a bottle?”
No response—
“You’d probably die.”
Aha! A reply. I squashed my grin. Was I playing with fire? Throwing knives? Shooting bullets straight into the air? Yes, I was. All at the same time.
“Would you kill me?” I asked lightly.
“The contents of the bottle would kill you.”
Oh. Okay, good to know. “What are you planning to do with these?”
Silence again.
“Are you really the best alchemist on the west coast?”
His stride faltered slightly. “Who said that?”
“Someone at the farm. So, are you?”
“Maybe.”
Not particularly modest, was he? “And you’re a druid too, right?” No response, but I supposed that answer was obvious. “Are you the best druid on the west coast?”
“Yes.”
Oh yeah, real modest. “What are those runes tattooed all over your arm?” Nothing. “Are they related to alchemy? They looked very sorcerer-y to me, but I—”
“Sorcery,” he interrupted irritably. “Not sorcerer-y.”
“Yeah, that,” I replied, a cheerful bounce in my step. “So they’re sorcery runes? Like … cantrips? Wait, no, a reusable cantrip is called a hex, isn’t it? Can an Arcana mythic be a sorcerer and an alchemist? Does that count as being di-mythic?”
He stopped again and I took two more steps before halting. As I faced him, Nadine stumbled to a stop, her eyes wide.
“Sorcery and alchemy already overlap,” he said. “Any Arcaner can learn both with enough time, dedication, and drive.”
“So ‘di-mythic’ wouldn’t apply, then,” I guessed, “since it’s all the same class of magic.”
“Precisely.”
“Hmm, interesting.”
“I’m delighted to expand your knowledge of mythics and magic.” His flat tone contradicted the statement. “When we return, we can discuss where you learned about cantrips and di-mythics.”
Oh shit. He knew I was a human, and humans had no business knowing anything about Arcana. How would I explain where I’d learned about cantrips?
I smiled weakly, but before I could respond, his hood turned as he looked past me. “What do you want?”
Blank confusion fizzled through me at his question, then I peered over my shoulder.
We weren’t alone in the forest anymore.
Chapter Eleven
A thing stood a dozen paces away, regarding us with solid black eyes that glittered eerily. Its head, shaped like an upside-down egg, had only the faintest contours for features. Spindly arms hung all the way to the ground and its body was rail thin, every rib showing beneath its shiny gray skin.
I swallowed hard and clutched the potion bottles, pretending my hands weren’t shaking. A real-life boogeyman, except it was probably a darkfae, which made it even scarier.
“Druid.” Its sibilant voice, rougher than sandpaper on stone, grated across my senses. “I come to bargain.”
“I won’t bargain with you,” the Ghost answered, his tone dangerously soft again. “I already told you that.”
It hissed. “You bargain with others. Why do you refuse me?”
“I told you why.”
“Many killers walk these forests. You treat with them.”
“I don’t have to explain myself. Go.”
The creature hissed again. “You bring gifts for Hindarfur?”
“I give gifts to no one.”
“Trade, then,” it snarled. “You trade with Hindarfur?”
“I told you to go.”
A long, thin tongue snaked out of its mouth. “I will trade for your humans.”
“I will not tell you again.”
The thing peeled back its lips, baring sharp teeth. It cackled quietly. “I asked. Now we will take.”
Its “we” would’ve confused me, but as it spoke, two more creatures stepped out of its shadow, identical down to the overlong arms and spider-like fingers tipped with claws. Still, I wasn’t completely terrified out of my mind—not until the Ghost muttered a curse. Did that mean we were in real trouble?
The middle creature whipped its elongated arm up and crackling green magic shot from its hand. I jumped back—but I’d forgotten the Ghost was behind me.
His arm was half raised, light sparking over his fingers, but whatever he’d been about to do, the impact of my body interrupted him. Then the creature’s magic hit us. We hurtled through the air, bottles flying from my grasp, and I slammed down on my back. Wheezing, I lurched into a sitting position.
The Ghost didn’t.
Crumpled beside me with green light sizzling over his body, he didn’t so much as twitch. Uh. Whoops.
Nadine screamed in terror. I sprang up as the three monsters stalked closer, the centermost one cackling, its leering black eyes fixed on the downed druid. It loomed over us, three feet taller than me. Green light filled its hand as it aimed the magic at the Ghost.
Jamming my fingers in my back pocket, I grabbed my Queen of Spades card and pointed it at the monster’s hand.
“Ori repercutio!” I shouted as its magic blasted outward.
With a silent boom, the green light rebounded and hit all three beasts. Black blood sprayed everywhere as slices opened across their chests. They shrieked, their high voices splitting my skull.
&
nbsp; From out of the shadows, dark shapes tore into view. Four black wolves, teeth bared and snarls ripping from their throats, charged the three creatures. The darkfae yelped and hissed, retreating as blood snaked down their gray skin. The furious vargs herded them away.
Shoving my card back in my pocket, I whipped around. Nadine was tugging on the Ghost’s arm, trying to turn him over. The sizzling magic had died away, but he wasn’t moving.
Snarls echoed through the trees. The vargs had driven the darkfae away but I doubted they could defeat the trio of monsters. We needed the Ghost for that.
Crouching, I helped Nadine roll the limp druid onto his back. I wasn’t even sure he was alive. His hood had somehow stayed on despite our violent landing and his face was in complete shadow.
I could have felt his wrist for a pulse. I could have put my ear to his chest and listened for his heartbeat. I could have done any number of things.
Instead, I pushed his hood off.
The shadows tried to cling in place, but as the fabric fell away, they dissolved to nothing. I blinked. I stared. I blinked again. Then I looked up at Nadine, kneeling on his other side. Her eyes were huge, her face flushed, and she mouthed four words. I didn’t have any trouble interpreting them, because they echoed my thoughts perfectly.
Holy shit, he’s hot!
The notorious rogue called the Ghost, who kept his face hidden under all circumstances, was a goddamn Adonis. Messy black hair, an ivory complexion, strong cheekbones, and a sculpted jaw combined to make a deliciously perfect final product, given an extra yummy hint of danger by the black feather tattoos running up the sides of his neck. And by my best guess, he was barely older than Aaron and Kai.
Damn it. He wasn’t ugly at all. He would’ve fit right in with my three favorite mages, and I almost growled. So much gorgeousness so wasted.
His forehead crinkled. He sucked in a breath and his eyelids flickered. Panicking that he’d catch me peeking at his super-secret face, I frantically yanked his hood back over his head—a bit too frantically. I overshot my reach and my knuckles cracked against his nose.
He yelped and shot upright, his hood falling off again. Uh. Did I just punch the Ghost in the face?
Dark Arts and a Daiquiri (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 2) Page 10
