by Quirah Casey
“What do you mean by that?” Levitsky asks.
“When Blue first came to town, I felt the darkness before she even entered Lobrooke. She has this aura; I am sure you all can feel it when you’re in her presence. When she first arrived, it was much worse, but I helped her dim the aura.” She shivers. “This is even darker. But somehow it feels familiar, similar to Blue.”
“But it’s not her.” London confirms.
“No, not her.”
“How long have you been feeling this presence?” I ask.
“For a couple months, but it was possible to ignore until just a few days ago. Last night it started to affect my magic, overriding it. I…lost control.”
“I didn’t even know that was possible. Have any of the other witches in town reported the same thing?”
“No, and they wouldn’t.”
Baptise rubs Fran’s back as another shiver goes through her body. “Fran’s magic is the strongest in town, making it the most sensitive, which is why it’s reacting this way. It can sense the threat, and it’s trying to fight it, but instead of winning it’s more like it…”
“Broke,” Fran finishes.
“Do you remember the last vision you had?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “All I remember from it is that I was talking to you.”
“Do you know how far ahead in time this vision was?” London asks, leaning forward in his seat.
“No, but…”
“But what?” I lightly touch her arm.
“You were hurt, badly, like I’ve never seen before. There was blood everywhere, so much that I couldn’t see the wound, and you required a healer.”
I never require a healer. My body always heals on its own. Any time I’ve used a healer, it was for public appearances only, because I didn’t want to give away the power of my blood.
I watch Fran carefully, and I can tell from the tight press of her lips that she’s keeping something from me, something that she won’t tell me no matter how much I ask.
“You need to find your enemy, whoever it is, and you need to kill them. If you don’t, it will be the end of this town.” Her eyes meet mine, and I nod, understanding the gravity of her words.
“We’re leaving.” Baptise says, pulling on a pair of pants.
My eyes widen. “You’re leaving town?” I ask.
Fran nods. “Only temporarily. I need solace and retreat to rebalance my powers. If I stay off balance, eventually it will kill me, or worse.”
“What could be worse?” Levitsky questions.
“She’ll be trapped between visions and flashbacks, unable to return to reality,” London says, and I make a note to find out why he knows so much about witches.
Fran wraps her hands around my wrist, and her body stiffens, tightening her grip. Her eyes grow vacant once again. Tears stream down her face; she’s in so much agony that I feel it too, we all feel it.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry, so…sorry. Blue, I can’t…I can’t help her…she’s gone.”
Her eyes roll back again and her body starts to seize. Still, a tear slides down her face.
Realization washes over me, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
Someone close to me is going to die.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I only care genuinely for a handful of people. Fran was referring to a female, and the few people I care about are all women and girls. One of them is in danger.
My heart pounds harder than it has in a long time while I sit on my couch, gazing at the TV but not really seeing it. I try to let footage of a conference between the Synod and the Senate override my thoughts.
It doesn’t work.
Visions aren’t always set in stone, I remind myself.
But the likelihood of it being false…
I have no time frame, though; the events of the vision could happen imminently or a century from now.
I’ve already called Baptise, who left town with Fran yesterday. He says that as soon as she woke up, he asked her about the vision, but she was totally unable to help. She has no recollection of the vision whatsoever.
I need a true psychic. Unlike seers and oracles, who have little control over their visions, a powerful psychic can dial into one vision as long as they have an idea of what they’re looking for. The problem is that psychics are hard to find; they know how many people want to take advantage of their powers, so they tend to retreat from society.
“Blue!”
I turn my head to find Melodiya looking at me, her eyes narrowed in confusion. Could the vision be about her? No. My best friend has been with me longer and more faithfully than anyone on this planet. Losing her…
“Blue,” Mel says, softer this time, as she walks closer, places a hand on the side of my neck and rubs softly.
My head drops as I let her comfort me, her touch cool. Letting my guard down is what will get me killed, but it’s always been so easy with Melodiya. She’s been my rock over the last century, even before I became the Blue Devil. I’ve known her since I was just a girl, one who hadn’t yet been hardened by the world. I straighten and get to my feet, and Mel’s hand falls away.
She watches me, her eyes poring over every inch of my face. “Siniy,” she whispers. She reaches out for me again. “Talk to me. What—”
“No.” I move away from her touch. I can’t relax, not now. “Why are you here?” We’re in my office, and I was so lost in thought that I didn't even hear her enter the room.
She takes a step back and sighs. This dance is so familiar that I don’t know why we bother anymore. I let her break down my walls for moments at a time, only to push her away until I can rebuild them again.
“Zyut called.” Mel says, her tone colder than before. “He has the results from the wolf’s body.”
“So what killed him?”
“His insides were liquefied.”
♛
“How in the hell could his body be liquefied on the inside with no signs on the outside?” I ask Zyut the second we get to his place. The outside of the wolf’s body didn’t have a single blemish; it looked like he was merely sleeping. Yet his insides were liquefied?
There’s no fucking way.
“It is quite strange,” Zyut says as he fiddles with a clipboard, watching Melodiya and me as we walk past him toward his examination room. “I could not use my abilities to find out what was wrong with him, so I had to result to human tactics and cut his body open. It was a shock; you can look for yourself.”
Before we even open the door, a horrid smell hits my nostrils, and I hear Melodiya retch behind me.
“Yes, it's unpleasant.” Zyut digs into his pocket, pulling out two paper masks.
“How the fuck are those supposed to help?” I growl. Surely the masks won’t keep the smell out, especially not with our heightened senses.
“A faerie enchanted the linings, so they should block all smells,” Zyut says nervously, and I grab one from his hands.
I hold it up to my face, and I’m surprised when the smell instantly disappears. “Well, shit. I’m going to have to get me a couple of these.”
“What could you possibly need one of these for?” Melodiya asks, bumping into me as she opens the door and steps into the room ahead of me.
“You never know.” I cross the threshold, and my eyes zero in on the source of the smell.
“God.” Melodiya turns to look at me, her eyes wide.
“Leave,” I bark at Zyut, and he scurries away, closing the door behind him.
It’s hard to tell exactly what is what on the inside of the wolf’s body; congealed blood and dark goo has seeped onto the table beneath him, but I can’t discern any distinct organs in the mess. What is clear, though, is the chemical that was used to do this damage.
“It's the same thing that the attackers used against you and Paris Stendahl,” Melodiya says, a shiver raking through her body.
“And the same thing that was used to kill Tarae.”
“We have to figure out what this
shit is.”
“I thought I was familiar with every weapon and poison that could be used to kill a man, but this…I’ve never seen or felt anything like it.” They say you can’t accurately remember pain, but what I felt when that liquid hit my body…I’ll never forget it.
“I don’t understand how it only melted the inside of his body and didn’t eat away until it got to the outside.”
“Maybe they used a small amount of the substance, just the right amount to melt the inside.”
“How could they forcefully get it into his body without losing a single drop on the outside?”
I inspect the wolf’s body once again, trying to find anything that I missed the first time. “I don’t know; there aren’t any rope marks to suggest that they tied him down.” But no one would voluntarily have that damn chemical near their body.
“Maybe they injected it. We’ll ask Zyut if there was an puncture mark.”
“If the body had time, the mark could have disappeared before he died. It wouldn’t have been a very big surface area for the body to heal, like rope burns would have been.”
I open the door and call Zyut back.
“Yes?” he asks, nearly tripping over his feet as he enters the room. Melodiya grabs his arm, keeping him from face-planting.
“Were there any puncture marks on the body that we missed?”
“No.”
“And the chemical used to liquefy his insides—do you know what it was?”
“No, I thought that maybe it would have traces of venom from some kind of creature, but I ran it through my system and didn’t get any results.”
“So you were able to collect a sample?” I ask.
“Yes, a small one.”
“Can you create an antidote from that?”
He shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No, it wasn’t enough.”
“If I got you more of the chemical, could you create one then?”
I can feel Melodiya staring at me, but I ignore her.
“Maybe, but I can’t make any promises.”
“Fine. We’ll be in touch.” I walk away, not taking the mask off until I’m out of the building.
“How are you going to get more of the chemical?” Melodiya asks, hot on my heels. I reach over, unhooking her mask from her ears and pocketing it along with my own.
“Like I get everything else I want. I’m going to steal it.”
♛
We don’t have any leads on the killer, and until we do, Mel and I have to maintain business as usual. I’ve sent out lots of feelers, including asking Marie to find me a psychic. But for now, I have a club to run—my customers need to know that I’m still in control of this town. This means sitting in the VIP section with some of my den’s wyryns as I drink and do my best to appear casual and relaxed.
There’s a bit of static in my earpiece, and then I hear: “Palha, there’s a man down here trying to get into VIP. He says you’re…friends? London Stendahl is his name.”
My head drops back against on the couch and I let out a long sigh. “Send him up.” I’d felt London’s presence when he walked into the club, but I’d figured that maybe for once, he’d keep his distance. I should have known better.
It doesn’t take long for London to appear at the top of the stairs, dressed in his usual dark jeans, a loud yellow shirt taking the place of his standard dark t-shirt, a smile on his face as he looks at me. There’s a man behind him—his cousin, if memory serves—but hell if I can remember what his name is.
The cousin looks around, his gaze landing on Mel and Cherilyn. He makes a beeline for them, taking a seat beside Mel.
“Long night, Pudding?” London sits next to me, pressing his leg against mine.
I scoot away from him. “More like a long month. You bring me something nice? Since apparently we’re friends now.” I roll my eyes.
“Actually, I did.”
I sit up at that. “Information?” I ask.
“Something better.”
I frown at that—I can’t think of anything better. Except…
“Did you bring me the crazy chemical killer's head?”
“Crazy chemical killer? Has a ring to it. But no, stop guessing.” His hand moves to his pocket and I reflexively grab his wrist, feeling that tingle course through my body. His eyes flicker to mine, pupils dilating. “Relax, Pudding. I’m not trying to kill you.”
“You could be.” I go of his hand, though, leaning away from him. Those sparks between us are getting too familiar, too enjoyable for my liking.
London pulls a light brown cigar from his pocket. I raise a brow. “I know I owe you a yada,” he starts, “but as you know, I can’t get one of those unless a certain blue-haired devil allows it. So instead, I brought you a yteipu, imported from London. Have you ever had one before?”
“No.”
“You’ll love it.” He lights the cigar with the tip of his finger. “It’s an herbal blend that you can only find in Poyil, a little place right outside of London. Mixed with a little pixie dust.”
He holds it out to me, and I take it from his outstretched fingers, its intoxicating smoke impossible to resist. I take a drag, expecting calm like my yadas provide, but it does the opposite, sending a wave of euphoria through my body.
“Well, shit.”
London grins, proud of himself. “I know.” He reaches for it and I jump back, holding it out of his reach. “Hey!” he exclaims.
“You brought it for me. It’s mine!” I take a long drag.
“You really do need to learn how to share.”
“I share just fine,” I say, watching Melodiya. London’s cousin says something that makes her giggle.
“Interesting.” London says cryptically, pulling my attention back to him.
“What?”
“Nothing I’m willing to share.”
I don’t like that. I change the subject.
“I’m surprised your sister isn’t with you.” I haven’t seen her since Tarae’s body was found, and I have a feeling she’s avoiding me intentionally. “She at least owes me a thank you for saving her life. Maybe if I were to remind her how it felt when her skin was melting off, she’d be more grateful.”
“And you wonder why she’s not jumping up and down at the thought of hanging out with you.” His hand brushes the back of my neck as he moves closer.
His touch lights a buzz that rushes through my body. “You really think you can touch me whenever you like, huh?” I keep my face turned away but feel myself leaning into his hand ever so subtly.
London shifts again, this time bringing his face closer to mine. I turn my head, finally looking at him. His golden eyes seem to hold me in place as his thumb rubs gentle circles against the nape of my neck. “If you didn’t want me touching you,” London whispers, “I’d be dead by now.”
He’s not wrong.
“If you think sleeping with me is going to put you in a better position to steal information, you’re wrong. I’m an expert at doing that to others, so there’s no way you can do it to me.”
He smiles slightly, his gaze slowly shifting from my eyes to my lips, which part involuntarily. “Always such a conspiracist. Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe all I want is a kiss? Just a taste?” His warm breath fans across my face as he leans closer. My lips start to tingle.
The abrupt clinking of glasses startles me away from London just before our lips meet. A smoky scent floods my nostrils as I take a deep breath, and I glance down to where the still-lit cigar has burned a hole in my jeans. Our wolf server hastily apologizes for interrupting us as he places a line of shot glasses on the table in front of us.
I shake my head, passing the cigar to London as I pick up a shot, trying to get ahold of myself.
The shot glass vibrates in my hand, and I realize I’m trembling. I focus on the server to center myself. I’ve never seen him here before, and I know there aren’t that many wolves that work in the club. But Mel hired a couple new people a few we
eks ago, so maybe that’s why I’m not familiar with him.
I notice that I’ve finally stopped shaking in the same moment that I detect a matching tremor in the server’s hand as he lines up shots in front of Melodiya, who immediately picks one up.
“He’s nervous,” London says, as if reading my mind. He sees it too.
I leap off the sofa. “Stop!” I yell, running toward Melodiya, but she’s already lifted the glass to her lips and thrown it back.
I rush to her side, but there are so many people in the way. I see Mel try to stand, unsteady on her feet, and then bend at the waist. The glass tumbles from her hand and shatters on the concrete floor. Her agonized purple eyes shoot frantically around the room and land on mine. Tears spring to my eyes as I push people to the ground in my effort to reach her. She extends a hand in my direction as she crumples to the ground, coughing up blood.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
She’s dying.
Melodiya Antipita, a woman whose loveliness, righteousness, importance cannot be contained by words—my best friend—is dying in my arms.
Blood pours from her mouth as I slice open my wrist with my teeth. I press it to her lips and cradle her head with my other hand.
Come on, Mel.
She’s unable to swallow the blood, her seizing coughs sending it rushing back out as soon as it enters her mouth.
“Please, Mel.” I tilt her head further back, extending my claws to widen the cut on my wrist.
The blood just isn’t coming as fast as I need it to; no matter how hard I squeeze my wrist, it's not enough.
This can’t be fucking happening.
When I first met Melodiya, over a century ago, I was drawn to her instantly—she shone so brightly in a land of nothing but darkness. I can’t read auras, but I could still see how light her soul was, how true. For a long time, she was my anchor, the only thing standing between me and the all-consuming shadows. Any time I needed her, whether I wanted her help or not, she was always there with her soft words and tender smiles, centering me. When I met her, Melodiya was one of the most innocent, happy people I had ever encountered.
And I ruined that.
Over the years I’ve destroyed her, putting her life in danger countless times, pushing her happiness to the side to meet my own needs. I’ve hurt her so much, over and over again, and she’s always let me, never giving up on me. Never leaving.