by Linsey Hall
“If it’s so important to find this spell, could we ask the FireSouls for help?” I asked.
The FireSouls were our friends from years ago. Like us, they were hunted for their magic. Each FireSoul had inherited the soul of a dragon, and it allowed them to find anything of value. Treasure, basically. Dragons loved treasure. They could find this thing. They kept their true species a secret from most, but Jude knew what they were.
“He already asked,” she said. “They’re busy with an emergency.”
“Bigger than this?”
“Apparently.”
“Whew.” That had to be something. “But he knows them? And what they are?”
“No,” Jude said. “I asked for him. As soon as he came to me, I went to them to see if we could freelance their services. But it was a no-go. At least not at the moment.”
“We’ll find it,” I said. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll team up with Lachlan. And I’ll find that damned spell. Then will I graduate?”
“No.” She smiled. “But it’ll help.”
“Good.”
She squeezed my arm, a friendly gesture that warmed me. She was way too young to seem like a mom, but ever since we’d lost our mother, my sisters and I seemed to seek out motherly-type affection just about anywhere we could find it.
Not that I’d tell her that. Too weird.
“Thanks, Jude.”
“Good luck, Ana.”
I had a feeling I was going to need it.
Bree, Rowan, and I walked back to our apartments without talking. The Cats of Catastrophe followed along in silence. We passed through hallways and corridors, some done up in grand style and others as ancient-looking as if they had been built in the thirteenth century.
We each had a tower apartment at the back of the massive castle, and Bree and Rowan followed me through the door into mine, up the winding staircase, and into the main entry room.
“You’re going to have to spill, you know,” Bree said.
“I know, I know.” I watched the Cats of Catastrophe saunter to my couch.
Muffin and Bojangles jumped right up to make themselves comfortable, but Princess Snowflake III knocked over a large pillow then leapt onto it, settling her fluffy white butt right onto the soft surface.
“I put my face on that sometimes, you know,” I said.
She just glared at me, green eyes glinting.
“All right, all right.” I raised my hands and turned toward the kitchen. The large round space was the living room, kitchen, and dining room in one, with a bedroom up above, accessed by an iron spiral staircase.
The whole apartment was decorated in beautiful, classy neutrals. It’d been an empty space when I’d first walked into it three months ago, but magic had allowed it to see into my psyche and had somehow decorated it in a manner to suit me.
Honestly, the classy look surprised me. I’d spent most of my life as a low-level outlaw, just trying to survive, or as a desert rat driving a monster truck across Death Valley, transporting criminals to Hider’s Haven, a place where they could hide out from the law.
The fact that the magical apartment thought I was all classy and crap was a surprise to me. I liked to paint, though, putting crazy splashes of color on canvas. For the first time in my life, these last three months at the Undercover Protectorate had given me the time and safety to work, and several of my paintings livened up the space. They weren’t great, but I liked them. And seeing my easel and paints set up on the other side of the room always gave me a warm little glow.
This was a real life here. One with a real home instead of a shack, and hobbies instead of constantly hiding. Friends instead of loneliness.
I wanted to keep this.
“Getting drinks?” Bree asked.
“Yeah.” I opened the fridge. “Champagne all right with you?”
“Pink kind?” Bree asked.
“Sure.” I grabbed a glass bottle full of pale pink liquid. It was cheap champagne—all of it was—but anything with bubbles suited me, and I wasn’t picky.
I popped the cork, poured some, and handed out the glasses.
Rowan glanced at the full couch, then at the table. “Better sit there.”
I glanced at the cats. All three of them looked up from licking their butts, and it was clear that they weren’t about to move. “Yeah, definitely.”
I sat and sipped my drink, enjoying the pop of bubbles on my tongue.
Rowan took a sip and cringed. “I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”
“Hey, hey, Miss Fancy Tastes, it’s not that bad.”
Bree sipped hers. “Yeah, I like it.”
“You only like it because it’s pink,” Rowan said.
Bree grinned widely, her teeth glinting in the light. “True enough.”
Bree was a hardcore badass, chewing up demons for breakfast and not even spitting out the bones. Which made her love of froufrou pink cocktails even funnier.
She turned to me, eyes going serious. “Now spill. I tried to listen in on your conversation with Lachlan, but he used some kind of blocking spell.”
My brows rose. “Really?”
Bree was the Valkyrie Dragon God, and as such, she’d been gifted with the powers of multiple Viking gods. One of those powers was incredible hearing, given to her by Heimdall, a Norse god.
If I ever got my act together and made my transition to Dragon God, some mysterious pantheon of ancient gods would give me their powers as well. Theoretically, at least.
“Spill,” Bree said.
I shook my head, realizing I’d drifted off a bit. “Sorry. Yeah. Well, I’m going to team up with him to solve this. He liked my theory that the spell was taken to Paris, and he thinks I’m interesting—dangerous, actually—so he wants to work with me.”
“Uh-oh,” Bree said. “I don’t like the sound of that. He looks dangerous.”
“He also looked kinda hot.” Rowan raised her brows at me, clearly waiting for me to agree.
I nodded. “Yeah. Mega hot.”
“Mega dangerous,” Bree said. “And cold. I could feel the self-control wafting off him.”
“You’re just in love with Cade, so you don’t have eyes for anyone else,” I said.
“She’s right about the self-control, though. That dude is tightly wound.”
I wouldn’t mind unwinding him.
No! Bad Ana! Down girl.
“Agreed.” I sipped, remembering the lethal strength coiled in his large body, and the dark knowing in his eyes. What he knew, I couldn’t quite pinpoint. But it made me want to shiver, and not because Bree and Rowan thought he was cold.
Far from it.
“Why Paris?” Bree asked.
“City of Lights, City of Invaders.” I explained the theory about the Romans. “But really, I just had a feeling. Something took me over and told me it was Paris.”
Rowan frowned. “Told you?”
“Yeah. It felt like magic, guys. Something I wasn’t in control of. It spoke in my mind, telling me to follow my instinct. I asked a question, and it answered.”
Bree leaned forward, eyes wide. “Is it your Dragon God powers coming to life?”
I touched the back of my neck, where a four-pointed star existed. I’d been born with the Mark of Power. All three of us had one, though we hid them with magic. If I hadn’t had the mark, I would have doubted I was a Dragon God. Was this it? Finally? “Maybe.”
Bree chewed her lip. “I bet it is. That’s how it happened with me.”
“So your new power is just knowing?” Rowan asked.
“Maybe? Prophecy or premonition or something.”
“That could be any pantheon,” Bree said.
But which one would choose me?
“You’ve got to learn to master your new power,” Bree said. “Control it. Or it will devour you. Body and mind.”
I swallowed hard, dread spreading through me.
Bree knew from experience, as it had happened to her. She’d even lost one of her powers
as a result. She’d been too slow to adapt and had lost her power to throw sonic booms.
The transition was the scariest part of being a Dragon God. I wanted it to happen—it had to happen, or I’d fail the Academy and be out on my ass.
But it was going to be really freaking difficult. As new powers developed, they went out of control inside the Dragon God. If I couldn’t learn to control them, I’d end up losing all my magic. Which was like losing my soul.
Then I’d be so damned miserable I’d just want to curl up and die. I’d seen it happen before—it was a terrible fate.
“Has your magic been acting up in any other ways?” Bree asked.
“No. Not since that time last month, when the weird white light glowed from within me.” We’d been in the middle of a terrible journey across a wasteland. Sickness wraiths had almost killed us, but I’d suddenly started to glow with a light that had repelled them. We’d thought it might be my Dragon God magic coming alive, but it had never happened again. “Just the one little premonition.”
“Be alert, then,” Bree said. “The change could be coming. And you’ll have to be ready.”
“Be careful.” Rowan’s eyes gleamed with worry. “We’re here for you if you need us.”
I nodded absentmindedly, getting up to go to the window. It was dark outside, but a full moon shed a bright glow over the amazing landscape.
I couldn’t believe I lived here. I loved it. This amazing place was my home. For all our life, we’d been hunted by an unknown threat that had killed our mother. We’d hidden from them for years, broke and scared. They were the ultimate bogeyman.
With the help of the Undercover Protectorate, we’d finally destroyed them. And here, we’d found a real home—a place where we were safe and could do good work. A place I loved.
I just had to make sure I didn’t lose it.
4
Of course I woke up to the sight of a cat’s butt right in my face. Bojangles turned around and looked at me, his little tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“Ugh.” I nudged him aside, and he flopped down and meowed, rubbing his head against my hand.
“Good morning to you, too.” A smile stretched across my face.
I completed my quick morning ritual under the watchful gazes of three cats. Since there was a carnage of ham bones on the kitchen counter, I had to assume that they’d fed themselves, probably with the help of Mayhem, the ghostly pug who followed Bree everywhere. Hams were Mayhem’s favorite, and Hans, the cook, seemed to have an endless supply of them.
Muffin, the scraggly hairless cat who sat on the counter, burped, his whiskers quivering. I laughed. I should’ve been annoyed about the mess, but I’d always wanted a pet. Our lives had been too barren before now to have one.
I gave Muffin a serious look. “Clean up after yourself.”
He meowed. Who, me? But I’m just a cat without opposable thumbs!
He even held up a paw.
“If you can run jewel heists, you can clean up your ham bones.”
Fine.
“Thank you.” I threw on a leather jacket and headed to the door. “And don’t wreck anything while I’m gone.”
Princess Snowflake III hissed, but the other two meowed their agreement.
My boots thudded on the stairs as I made my way down the tower. It was only a minute to eight, so I picked up the pace, racing through the old stone corridor and skipping down the wide, sweeping staircase.
Lachlan waited for me in the courtyard outside, the wind ruffling his dark hair. His dark eyes zeroed in on me, making me feel like a bug under glass.
But somehow, I didn’t hate it.
His attention might make me a bit nervous, but I found I wanted it. Probably because he was checking me out. From the way his gaze subtly covered my whole form, he was definitely checking me out.
The sun gleamed on him, highlighting the tightly leashed power that he possessed. His eyes glinted, almost cold, like Bree had said.
Not cold enough for me, though. He was dangerous, but I could get on board with that.
No! That was dumb and risky.
Better to play it distant and safe.
I slowed to a walk as I approached, my stomach full of flutters.
“Ready?” I asked.
He nodded.
A man of few words. I could work with that. More time for me to talk. And up close, his eyes weren’t cold. They were just blank. His face carefully controlled to show no expression.
“How are we getting to Paris?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, just held out his hand, palm forward. His magic swelled on the air, the scent of pine and the taste of caramel. I shivered at the feel of a caress, and watched as a gleaming silver light appeared in front of his palm. The light grew, becoming five feet tall and three wide. Then bigger.
“Holy fates, you can make a portal?” I demanded.
“Aye.”
I whistled. That was some rare magic. I gave him an appreciative look.
He gestured for me to step through, so I did.
The ether sucked me in, sending me on a topsy-turvy ride through space. Darkness swirled, then the portal spit me out into the gloom of a stormy day.
Paris in the rain.
It poured from above. The sky was a tumultuous gray that suggested the only reasonable place to be was in bed. It was so dark that it appeared to be dusk.
Just our luck.
I shivered and stepped aside.
Lachlan appeared a moment later, right in the place where I’d been standing. A scowl creased his face. “Bloody hell.”
“Should have checked the weather.” I popped my leather collar up, but it didn’t do much to protect me from the cold rain.
“No need.” He waved a hand overhead, and a little clearing appeared.
The rain no longer pattered coldly on my cheeks, but it splashed into puddles just a few feet away. He’d created a clearing around us, protecting us from the rain.
“Wow. You control weather?” I asked.
“In small bits.” He gestured around. “Stopping a rainstorm around all of Paris is a bit above my pay grade, but I can handle this.”
I wiped the water from my cheeks. “Good. I like it.”
“Any idea where to go next?” His gaze studied me assessingly, waiting.
Suddenly, the bug-under-glass sensation didn’t feel so great.
I reached for my new magic, having no idea how to access or control it.
It lay dormant within me.
Was it even a new power?
I had no freaking idea. But it had quit working on me. “The spell you made packs some serious punch, right? So if there’s someone in town who keeps track of powerful new magic coming into town, they might be able to help us.”
Lachlan nodded. “If the spell actually is here, then Madame Alamedra might know.”
“Who is she?”
“A ghost at Père Lachaise.”
“The big cemetery?” Even I had heard of the massive cemetery in the middle of Paris. Mostly because it had one of the most active supernatural neighborhoods in all of Europe.
“The same. She knows all of the magical goings-on in the city, and if there’s something new here, she’ll know how to find it.”
“All right. Lead on.”
He nodded and turned, heading down the street with a quick stride. I hurried to keep up. His damned long legs were hard to match pace with, but I was determined to try, since the magical rain shield was only around him. Neither did I want to be a drag, slowing him down.
We cut through the city. The streets were fairly empty, and much darker than usual, but still beautiful. I’d never been to France. I’d never been most places, unless it was to help Bree fight some bad guys.
I searched the skyline for the Eiffel Tower, but it was concealed in the clouds and rain.
“This way.” Lachlan waved for me to follow, and we turned to cross the street.
We darted in front of gleaming yellow headli
ghts, stopping near a massive stone arch at the entrance of the cemetery.
“Whoa.” I craned my neck to look upward. “Only fancy people buried here.”
“For the most part. This is the supernatural section. Blocked from human tourists.”
“They can’t see it?”
“Precisely. And they’re directed away by other pressing matters.”
Like the Undercover Protectorate’s castle. It was a handy magic.
Lachlan walked up to the heavy iron gate that blocked our way through the arch. I followed, shuddering at the magic that raced over my skin. It stung like the bite of fire ants.
“Holy fates.” I rubbed my arms, wincing. “Supernaturals aren’t welcome either.”
“Not without invitation, no.”
I debated using my shield magic, but didn’t want to waste it. I could take a little pain.
Lachlan sucked in a deep breath, then pressed his hand to the heavy iron gate. A sizzling noise sounded, and the air around his palm seemed to smoke slightly. He winced and pushed the door open.
Holy fates, it was burning his hand.
“Go.” His voice was rough.
I darted through the gate, and he followed, shaking his hand.
The path into the cemetery stretched ahead of us, bordered on both sides by small crypts and towering trees. It seemed darker in here, and colder, as if it were nighttime.
The air crackled with protective magic, still burning my skin. I hurried forward to get past the protective barrier.
Within ten feet, the feeling faded, and I sighed.
The air exploded with motion. Figures lunged out from one of the crypts, their claws outstretched for us.
I flung out my hand, calling on my magic and blasting my shield outward.
It exploded in a flash of white, creating a barrier between us and the creatures.
“That’s handy,” Lachlan said.
Panting, I studied our attackers. There were six of them, and all looked to be in various states of decay.
“Zombies?” I asked.
“Revenants. They’re similar. They guard the cemetery from visitors without an invitation. We have to convince them to let us pass.”
“Convince?”
They hissed and clawed at my protective shield, their skin peeling off their muscles and flashes of white bone peeking through. They stank like death and decay, making my eyes water.