I looked down at just how open my blouse was and quickly fastened the buttons. Mrs. Whittle walked in just as I finished and sat down at the table, coffee in one hand and a plate of biscuits and butter in the other. I nearly moaned at the sight. Her biscuits were positively divine, light and flaky, like a cloud on your tongue. I had to sit on my hands to avoid snatching one before she even set them down. As it was, the second the plate hit the table, I grabbed two and buttered them within an inch of their lives.
“Someone’s hungry,” she said with a smile.
“There wasn’t much to eat at the event last night, not that I could have fit much in with that evil corset cinching my waist.”
“Well, you looked lovely in it,” the old woman countered. “I’ll bet you were the belle of the ball.”
“She was a spectacle, to be certain,” Zen added, hiding his grin behind a sip of coffee.
“Were you invited to dance often?” Mrs. Whittle pressed.
“She barely had a moment to herself,” he answered for me. “In fact, I’m quite sure her appetite has been worked up because of it. She was so busy. It carried on all night long…”
I attempted to kick him under the table, but the clever bastard had expected as much and tucked his legs well out of reach. His double entendre was thinly veiled at best, and after the way we’d carried on the previous night (and well into the morning), I prayed that my magic had held and that everyone in the boarding house hadn’t heard us. If Mrs. Whittle had, she hid it well, a trait I doubted she possessed.
“It turns out that I love to dance,” I replied before taking another bite of biscuit. “I’d dance all night long if I had a partner who could keep up…”
Two could play his game.
“Were you disappointed in the skills of those that accompanied you?” Zen asked, his heavy stare raking over me. I chewed dramatically for a moment and enjoyed the subtle devolution of his expression. It went from smug to reserved to sour in a matter of seconds.
“Disappointed?” I replied, as though mulling the word over in my mind. “No, I wouldn’t say I was disappointed—”
“Because you looked quite the contrary.”
“Well, it was rather dark in there.”
“Mrs. Whittle,” he interrupted, “would you be so kind as to bring me one of those delightful jams I saw you making the other day?” She looked a bit befuddled but nodded and stepped out of the room. Once she disappeared, he leaned forward on his elbows, dark eyes pinned on mine. “I feel you’ve made your point adequately, Andy my dear. Now, back to the matter at hand: how are we going to retrieve the opal?”
“We’ll need some help with that,” I whispered just before Mrs. Whittle walked back in, jam in hand.
“I hope you like strawberry.”
Zen smiled at her like it was his favorite thing on Earth and he would lick the plate clean. The poor woman flushed and fled the room, giggling all the way.
“You’re going to have to eat that now, or she’ll be devastated.”
He took a spoonful of the preserve and shoved it in his mouth. The way he withdrew it was so sultry and scandalous that I was glad we were alone. I’d never wanted to be a spoon more in my life.
“We should get going,” I said, grabbing another biscuit from the plate before I stood. He followed suit and fell into step behind me as I walked to the front door.
“Thank you, Mrs. Whittle,” Zen called as he opened the door for me. “That jam was delectable—so silky and sweet. I could eat a whole jar of it myself.” I smacked his arm as I stepped outside. Thankfully, he closed the door before she gave him one to take with us. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “It was delicious…”
“If that woman ever sorts out what you were really talking about, she’ll drop dead right then and there.”
“But she’ll go out happy.” I hit him again and he laughed. “So, where are you taking me at this early hour, Andy my dear? Somewhere seedy and unscrupulous, I hope.”
“Somewhere far away from Whittle House,” I said, ducking into an alley near the boarding house. The roads were wet and mucky from the rain that had started some time after we’d gotten naked in his bedroom, and the stench was nearly unbearable, but I wanted somewhere secluded to call back my familiars. They hadn’t reacted to Zen when they’d appeared last evening, but they were very protective of me, to say the least, and I doubted a demon would be well received—assuming they recognized the threat.
When we came upon an alcove carved deep into the side of a building, I pulled Zen in with me, the two of us standing almost toe to toe.
“I see my demonstration with the jam garnered the desired effect—”
“Could you stop for just a moment?” I said, exhaling in frustration.
“That’s not what you requested last night,” he said, leaning in closer. “In fact, I distinctly remember you demanding the opposite—”
“I would stab you right now if it wouldn’t hurt me, too.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief at the thought. “I’m sure you would.”
“Would you be quiet long enough for me to do what needs to be done, or do you not want to get the opal anymore?” His silence was answer enough. I rubbed my wrists where my cuffs belonged and whispered their names. Seconds later, the onyx-colored snakes appeared at my feet, winding their way up my legs to my shoulders. They hissed when they spotted Zen, and to his credit, he looked a touch wary. “Zen, allow me to properly introduce my familiars, Zella and Hagan. They’re going to help us get the opal.” The snakes turned their attention to me, both extending their heads so they could look at me. “I need you to track down Grisholm’s home.” Their tongues shot out in unison, a silent acknowledgment of their orders, before they disappeared once again in a puff of fire and smoke.
“Well, they’re rather handy,” he said, eyeing me tightly. Curiosity mixed with admiration graced his features and I turned away, the weight of his gaze more than I was ready to handle in the silence that grew heavy between us.
“They came to me after my return—Ivy said that’s how familiars work. They choose you, and only when they feel you are ready.”
“Did your mother have one?” he asked.
“She did. A glorious, fiery phoenix. He died trying to protect her from Xandros.”
Zen looked thoughtful for a moment before opening his mouth to speak, but the reappearance of the twins cut him short. Their deep citrine eyes shone at me, bright with magic and satisfaction.
“You found it,” I said. A statement, not a question. The two hissed in response. “Excellent. Show me where he lives.” Zella wrapped around my arm and used her tail to draw an elaborate picture in the air with smoke and shadow. The building and address were as clear as day in the image, and I recognized it in an instant. Grisholm’s home wasn’t far from where we stood. “Was he there? Were you seen?”
The snakes’ tongues went still and their eyes dimmed. A decisive ‘no’.
“We need to hurry,” I said to Zen before stepping out into the alley.
“How far?”
“A few blocks. And no one is home, so this should be easy.” I looked over my shoulder at him, his eyes narrowed with focus. “We’ll locate the opal once we arrive.”
“And if we can’t? If it’s too well hidden or guarded?”
“Then I suppose we will have to deal with that. But if you’re right about Xandros not being able to track it by feel, as you can’t, then perhaps it won’t be.”
I turned my gaze forward just as he asked the question I could not evade any longer. “Who is this Grisholm character?”
I bit my lip. “A friend.”
“A friend?”
Not really. “Yes.”
“He is involved with the Lilies somehow,” he surmised, which was a reasonable assumption on his part, given that he’d been at the auction, too.
“He is our benefactor, and that is all you need to know.”
Silence.
“Do you trust him?
” he finally asked.
His question stopped me short, but not because it wasn’t warranted. The truth was, I wasn't sure of the answer myself. “What are you implying, Zen? That we are about to walk into a trap?” His lack of response spoke volumes. “My familiars have already ensured our safety.”
“But the Lilies know that you’re after the opal,” he pointed out. “If your fire magic hadn’t tipped them off, then you calling out to them at the auction surely did. Could they not ambush us?”
“If Ivy wanted to challenge me, it’s not as if she doesn’t know where I live. She would have stormed my room and demanded answers, but she didn’t.”
“But you weren’t in your room,” he said.
“I would have heard her in the hall—”
“Which makes her lack of appearance all the more disconcerting, because from what you’ve mentioned about this Ivy, she would surely not let this go,” he countered with enough conviction that it made me consider the potential truth in his words. His sharp gaze raked over me, and realization blossomed in my mind.
“You think she’s likely planning something else for me.”
“Yes. I do.”
Fear trickled down my spine. “Perhaps I need to go to her first.”
“And while I would normally support this endeavor, now isn’t the time.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then thought better of it. With my head down and collar pulled tight against the wind, I headed off down the alley. The knot in my belly grew tighter and tighter with every step nearer to Grisholm’s home. I did not want to believe the Lilies would ambush me, but my actions had fueled that possibility. And though my familiars could never be turned against me, I feared that they could be tricked by my sister witches.
And so could I.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
We stood outside the black door to Grisholm’s three-story brownstone and stared at one another. Zen’s amulet would keep us unseen by any supernatural beings who might be lying in wait, but could it keep us hidden from the magic that undoubtedly protected the home—or the owner himself? That was the question that burned in my mind as I rested my hand on the brass lock and melted it. The door gave way with a twist of the knob, and we stepped inside tentatively. To our collective surprise, there was no flash of lightning to greet us; no witches jumping out from hiding to take us down. There was nothing but silence, the soft tick of a clock on the mantle, and the faint pull of evil I’d come to recognize as the presence of the Demonheart Opal.
“Hagan.” My whisper drew forth the black snake, who appeared with his twin on the floor before me. “Search the house for anyone. Zella, you keep an eye on the door.”
Hagan slithered through the grand foyer to the staircase and made his way up. We followed close behind, while Zella remained in the foyer, prepared to alert us if anyone were to return—or to ambush us from behind.
We wound our way up the grand staircase to the top floor, following that pull as it intensified with every riser we climbed. Hagan led the way to a door at the end of the hall, and in addition to the Demonheart’s call, I could feel the pulse of magic emanating from it. We were close, and I knew it. Judging by the look on Zen’s face, he knew it, too.
“Wards,” he whispered in my ear.
“This isn’t Lily magic,” I said, holding my hand in front of the raw wooden door, careful not to touch it. “I don’t recognize it.”
“It’s older than that,” he said, canting his head. “Ancient…”
“All magic is old,” I argued quietly.
“Not like this.”
I turned to find him staring at the door, deep in contemplation. “So, what are we to do, then?”
Zen’s gaze fell to Hagan. “Can he retrieve it?”
The snake hissed a warning at him as he wound his way up my leg. “He is not dispensable, Zen. I will not send him into an unknown fate.”
“Would you send me?” he asked, hazarding a glance from the corner of his eye. “Am I dispensable?”
“No...at least not while I’m bound to you.”
My dry remark earned me a smile. “There must be more than one way into the room. Perhaps we should try another.” I could see the glow of sunlight through the crack beneath the door and instantly feared what he was suggesting. The last time I’d scaled a building, I hadn’t fared so well. The twinkle in Zen’s eyes told me that he was thinking the same thing. “Don’t worry, Andy my dear. I didn’t let you fall last time. I won’t let you this time, either.”
“You most certainly did!”
“Not on the way up,” he countered. “The way down was…regrettable, but necessary, I’m afraid. As I said, I won’t let it happen again.”
It took only a moment for realization to dawn. “It was you—you were the leather I felt. Your gloves…”
“I believe ‘thank you’ are the words you’re looking for,” he said as he started back down the hall. “And you’re welcome.”
Uncertain what to make of his admission, I followed behind him silently until I realized the small hole in his plan. “I think we’ll likely be noticed this time, as it’s broad daylight outside and there are humans about.”
“Not to worry,” he said as he sped down the stairs. “We’ll move too quickly for anyone to see.” If the speed with which he moved through the home was any indication, he was right. Thanks to our bond, I was able to keep up, which boded well for my climbing ability.
Once we arrived at the back of the building and established which window we needed to breach, I called forth what shadows I could with the light so bright in the sky. Together, we raced up the side of the brownstone until we reached the window. That pulse of magic was still present, but far less strong than it had been inside. With a little manipulation of my fire and a cleansing spell on my lips, I burned through the unseen magical barricade and threw open the window. We climbed inside with ease and quickly took stock of the room.
Furniture cluttered the space in a haphazard layout, chairs, ottomans, and bureaus all askew, making it difficult to navigate. As we carefully made our way around, the Demonheart’s energy drew me toward a mirror on the far wall, as though it were beckoning me. As though it were crying out to be found.
As though it knew we were near.
I made my way over to where it hung, dust-covered and aged with patina. It was innocuous to the naked eye, but the thrum of power it released was undeniable. “It’s here,” I said as I reached to draw my finger across the surface.
“No!” Zen caught my hand just before it grazed the glass. “It’s enchanted. You must not touch it.”
“Wait…” My eyes fell on the mirror again, and a chill ran up my spine. “Are you saying that it’s not a glamour...that the Demonheart is inside the looking glass?”
“So it would seem.” His scowl punctuated his statement perfectly.
“How on Earth are we to retrieve it, then?”
“You aren’t,” he said simply, “for Earth is not where it lies.”
I looked at the mirror, wide-eyed with disbelief. “It’s in another realm?”
“Yes,” he said, slipping off his coat and rolling up his sleeves, as though he were about to fight the mirror on the wall. “A clever hiding spot indeed.” My mind swirled with implications regarding what Grisholm could be, if he had power and magic so great that he could do such a thing. “I do not know how to retrieve it, Andy…”
“Perhaps if you hold me, you could tether me here while I reach for it—”
“No!” he snapped as he pulled me a step away from the relic. “If I’m right, there is no way to know what would happen when you made contact with it—where you would go.” The fear in his eyes was sobering. “I have only ever traveled this world and my own. If you were lost, I would not be able to find you. So that is a risk I will not allow you to take. And since your precious snakes are indispensable, then we cannot search with them, either.”
“Then what do we do?” I asked, fear and irritation coursing through
my veins.
His fiery gaze turned to the mirror, and he stared at it as though they were in a silent battle. “You can feel the Demonheart, correct?”
“Yes...”
“Feel a connection to it?”
“Yes…”
“Then you need to use that connection and try to pull it toward you…hope that it wants to be found as badly as we want to find it.” He reached down and took my hand in his, startling me. “Draw on our bond to help you channel your power.”
I looked at our clasped hands, and the memory of our bodies pressed together flashed in my mind. That union had been powerful indeed. I could do this, I thought. With Zen’s help, I could.
He began to speak in his demonic tongue, his voice lower and raspier than normal—like it had been in his world. I felt the power emanating from him into me, and I held onto it as I focused my mind on that invisible tether drawing me to the mirror. The glass shimmered as I grew closer, then began to ripple, light reflecting off of it like sunlight dancing on water. The movement grew slowly as I leaned in, my face only inches away, silently willing the opal to come to me. That surge of power amplified, and the waves became so large that Zen pulled me back for fear they would suck me into their undertow. But I wasn’t afraid. I could feel the Demonheart just on the other side, floating to the surface, trying to escape.
Trying to find its new masters.
“It’s close,” I said between steady breaths.
“I know,” he growled in response, sweat dampening his brow. “Just a little longer…”
The undulating mirror began to shake violently, the force of it reverberating through the room. Then, with one loud pop, a silvery arm whipped out of the glass and spat the opal at us. Zen snatched it out of the air just before the mirror shattered, showering us in dagger-like shards. He threw himself in front of me and pulled me to the floor just as I called a shield of fire to protect us. The glass melted and fell around us like rain, and I looked up at the demon on top of me, dangling the shriveled heart of the former demon king in a ray of light, his eyes wide with awe.
A Curse of Nightshade (Witches of the Gilded Lilies Book 1) Page 22