She nodded as she tugged a folded piece of thick paper out of her hoodie pocket.
“You knew I needed it?”
“Yeah, but I thought I might pick up more, or even something different, if I tried to read you as well. But … you know. I’m still practicing.”
I took the paper from her, holding it by the edges and carefully easing it open. It was a detailed charcoal sketch of what she’d just shown me. She must have torn it out of her sketchbook, then carefully trimmed off the ragged edge.
“I know these leaves and flowers,” I said.
Rochelle reached for her sketchbook on the dinette, but I was already digging through my satchel for the dragonskin tattoo. Maybe if I compared the sketch to the map, I could work out the location of the door.
“Wait,” Rochelle said. “That’s … um … that’s not all.”
I chose my next words carefully. “I only want to know things that are relevant. Things connected to the far seer. Or at least things that will help me find the final instrument of assassination, and therefore draw the maniac who’s kidnapped the far seer to me.”
Rochelle’s eyes widened. “Kidnapped? The far seer? Who could kidnap the far seer?”
Damn. I hadn’t meant to mention the kidnapping part. But Rochelle being in my head had severely rattled me.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, though my words came out more pissy than soothing. “I’m sorry. I also could be wrong about the kidnapping part. It’s just that this …” I waved my hand in the direction of her sketchbook. “This weirds me out.”
“I know. You don’t want to know if you’re going to die.”
“Who would?”
“But if you did, would you run? Wouldn’t you try to change your destiny?”
I forced a smile, feeling the edges of the sketch I held crumpling underneath my fingers. “What fun would that be?”
“Be flippant all you want, Jade. But I know you. I know why you do what you do. I know you believe. You believe you can only do what you’re meant to do.”
“Yes, I believe. Will I fail?”
Rochelle shrugged. “I’m not sure what failure would look like in this case.”
“Wouldn’t me dying be a failure?”
“I don’t think so. And neither do you.”
I laughed. Rochelle was laying claim to my soul. And laughing was all I could do.
“I don’t see death …” The oracle whispered the words as the white of her magic rolled across her eyes. “But … I do see … rebirth.”
“That sounds worse.”
“Yes.”
Great. Lovely. Fan-freaking-tastic.
“There’s something else. Something I can’t see beyond. Something hidden from me, behind a veil of magic, maybe.”
“Delightful.”
“I see a … golden fire …”
“Golden fire?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m going to be reborn through this golden fire?”
“No.”
“That’s clear, then. Have you at least got a timeline?”
“I’m trying my best.”
Guilt stopped my snark in its tracks.
“I owe you, Jade,” Rochelle said quietly. “For fixing my mother’s necklace. For sending Chi Wen.”
“No one sends a guardian anywhere,” I murmured.
“Whatever,” Rochelle said. “But I’d just as soon have you out of my head, you know?”
“Sure.”
“The golden fire washes you away. It burns the vision of you up. And I can’t see anything beyond. I can’t even sketch it. It’s … too much.”
I just stared at the oracle. “I can’t do anything with that.”
“All you can do is endure.”
I shivered. Rochelle was echoing my own thoughts, from all the terrible hours I’d spent staring at her sketches in Chi Wen’s quarters in the dragon nexus. It was disturbing.
“There’s more …” Rochelle swallowed her next words. She was rubbing her charcoal-dusted fingers again, as if soothing herself.
“Who is it?” I whispered. “Who’s going to die? And can I stop it?”
Rochelle looked startled. “I don’t see anyone dying. Any of your friends, I mean.”
“Because you don’t see them at all?”
She placed her hand on her sketchbook, then gazed out the dark window of the Brave. I hadn’t noticed from the outside, but she had pulled the curtains open at some point. Maybe when Henry was losing it. “No … I’ve seen them. All of them … and one other.”
Rochelle’s hesitation was becoming disconcerting.
“Who?” I said quietly.
She lifted her gray-eyed gaze to me, then stared at my right hip where my knife was invisibly sheathed.
“Don’t be mad,” she whispered.
“I will be mad,” I said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to be mad.”
Rochelle nodded, then swallowed hard. She lifted her eyes from my knife and resolutely locked her gaze to mine.
“I would never hurt you,” I said.
“Of course not.”
“Who, then? Beau?”
Rochelle shook her head, then she flipped open the book to a sketch similar to the one I held. Except I was in this drawing, standing before the leaf-and-flower-carved door. She carefully lifted the edge of the next page and turned it.
I stepped closer to peer down at the newly revealed sketch, which resembled a wider-angle view of the previous image. I was standing in front of the door as before, but five other figures occupied the smudged shadows around me.
“Warner,” I murmured, immediately identifying him by his broad shoulders, then by the curved blade he held at the ready.
“Is that his name?” Rochelle asked quietly. She turned the page to reveal a detailed sketch of the sentinel’s strong profile.
Despite my anxiety, my heart did a little dance at the sight. There was something utterly titillating about seeing him captured in stillness on the page. I could stare at him forever.
Rochelle flipped back to the main drawing.
“Drake,” I said, pointing at the figure positioned just behind my right shoulder.
Rochelle nodded, flipping the pages forward to a detailed sketch of the fledgling guardian. He looked older in smudged charcoal than he did in real life. His Asian features were highlighted in black and white.
Rochelle started to flip back again, but I touched the top of her hand to stop her.
She flinched as if I’d shocked her, though I felt nothing.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “But we don’t have much time. Perhaps you should just rip off the Band-Aid?”
The oracle nodded, squared her shoulders, and flipped a page.
“Kandy.”
Next page.
“Kett.”
She hesitated. Then, with her hand shaking, she revealed the fifth shadowed figure.
Son of a bitch.
Blackwell.
“I’ve texted him,” Rochelle murmured. “He’s on his way.”
I was spinning away from the tiny green-topped table before she voiced her last words. My knife appeared eagerly in my hand. I busted through the door of the Brave, breaking something in the process.
Drake and Warner were standing beside the firepit, overseeing Beau, who was building a fire with paper and kindling. They spun toward me as I leaped from the RV.
My feet hit the ground as the taste of buttered baked potato and sour cream set my mouth watering. Though I hadn’t tasted it in over two years, the magic of Blackwell’s ruby amulet was unmistakable. And where it manifested, Blackwell appeared. The teleportation power of the amulet was an awesome trick, and with the portals out of order, I was more than a little jealous of the sorcerer’s prized possession. That wasn’t going to stop me from trying to skewer him, though.
Tracking the amulet’s magic, I executed two more quick steps to the left, pressing my knife to Blackwell’s neck just as the sorcerer magically appeared in the middle o
f the clearing.
“Stop!” Rochelle screamed from behind me.
Blackwell’s dark eyes widened. His clean-shaven face was unusually gaunt, but he wore his typical ensemble of tailored dark suit and white dress shirt. The sorcerer’s taste in clothing was even more expensive than Audrey’s or Kett’s, right down to his Italian-leather wingbacks. Not that I was currently checking out his shoes.
Before I could press my advantage, the magic of the amulet concealed underneath his dress shirt flared again. Blackwell disappeared.
“You need him,” Rochelle shouted.
I spun around, glaring at the oracle, who was hanging out of the busted door of the Brave. It was hanging half off its hinges. A wash of regret momentarily distracted me. I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining anyone’s home.
Drake and Warner fanned out from the bonfire just as it flared into flame. Their movement called my attention back to the hunt.
Magic bloomed near Rochelle. I lunged. The oracle awkwardly flung herself down the stairs of the RV in a crazy attempt to block my attack.
The sorcerer appeared behind her.
I slid to a stop.
Blackwell scanned the area behind and above me.
“Hiding behind a child, hey, asshole?” I sneered.
“Hey!” Rochelle cried. “I’m, like, practically twenty-one!”
“Warrior’s daughter.” Blackwell offered me a thin-lipped smile.
“How do I need him?” I growled at Rochelle.
She shook her head, questioning her words even as she spoke them. “Why would he be there? Do you know where the door is? If I see him with you, then maybe he leads you to it.”
Blackwell laughed mirthlessly.
I eyed him, warring with every instinct that told me to wipe him from the face of the planet now and forever. Then I sheathed my knife and stepped back.
Rochelle let out a shuddering breath.
“How can I be of service, Jade Godfrey?” Blackwell’s smile widened to reveal his teeth.
“Are you sure?” I spoke to the oracle, but without taking my eyes off the evil sorcerer standing behind her.
Rochelle nodded, but it was the utter regret etched across her face that sold it for me. She’d already told me I survived whatever was coming — in whatever form that survival took — so she was concerned she was sacrificing Blackwell.
“Screw it,” I muttered. Then I turned my back on the sorcerer. I needed to walk away or I was going to skewer him.
“Show me, Rochelle.” Blackwell’s tone was muted and kind … and edged with a sick sort of eagerness. “You have sketches, yes?”
Warner and Drake fell into step with me.
“Who is this?” the sentinel asked.
“Some asshole with a death wish.” Pausing my pissy state of stomping away, I turned around and reached up to retrieve my necklace from around Drake’s neck.
The fledgling bent down obligingly.
Warner pivoted to face the Brave, presumably studying Blackwell.
“And we’d better warn Kandy and Audrey that he’s here,” I said. “Or there will be blood.”
Drake nodded, then slipped off into the dark woods.
Gazing up at Warner, I settled my necklace over my collarbone. The sentinel’s moonlit profile was an aching reminder of Rochelle’s sketch. I might have no idea where we were going or what we were getting into, but we’d be there together. There was some comfort in that.
I sighed. “I guess we should patrol.”
Warner brushed his hand against mine. “Drake, Kett, and I will patrol. You get caught up with your BFF.” He nodded toward the cabin behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder just as Kandy emerged from the woods. She was back in human form, clad only in a sports bra and tattered leggings, and grinning manically. Though whether that was from her run in the woods or news of Blackwell’s appearance, I didn’t know.
She jogged over to collect her sneakers and T-shirt, then winked at me as she turned back to dig a change of clothing out of the Escalade. Her hair was still green, though it usually reverted to mousy brown when she transformed. Apparently, she’d spent our year apart honing her shapeshifter skills.
“Go,” Warner said. “Shailaja will send scouts before she shows up. We’ll have warning.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It really is too bad she isn’t an idiot. Crazy, intelligent people are just freaky.”
Warner snorted, then stepped off into the trees behind us to join the honeyed-almond and peppermint magic I could taste already roaming the nearby woods. And I crossed the yard for a much-needed gab session with my best friend.
CHAPTER TEN
Blackwell spent what felt like hours poring over Rochelle’s sketches, though it was probably only thirty minutes. When he emerged from the RV, he stumbled on the first step at the sight of the small army arrayed around the bonfire Beau had built.
Good. He should be scared.
Of course, the members of that small army were all roasting hot dogs, which wasn’t exactly an act of aggression. And half of them were veggie anyway.
Audrey and Henry had returned from the woods moments after Kandy. The beta reverted to her human form and changed into a tailored collared shirt and slim dress pants, though she remained barefoot. The sorcerer was still in his bitten werewolf form, but he’d happily retrieved his cowboy hat before hunkering down by the fire.
I was surprised that Audrey didn’t instantly end up with her teeth at the sorcerer’s throat. Though it had been Sienna who’d killed her pack mate Jeremy, Blackwell had been instrumental in setting the stage and luring us into Sienna’s trap in the Sea Lion Caves in Oregon.
However, the incident in Mississippi with Rochelle and Beau — which had concluded with Kandy biting Henry — had indebted the pack to Blackwell in some significant way. Apparently, the sorcerer had been helpful. I wouldn’t call whatever was going on a truce. But no one was rushing to murder anyone else in the deep night in Westport, Washington.
It was a shame.
Blackwell smirked annoyingly, covering for his moment of hesitation as he descended the steps.
I returned my pissy gaze to the fire as he moved away from the RV. I was going to have to void my practically oath-sworn feud with the evil bastard. If he actually knew the location of the door Rochelle thought we were seeking, then he’d be stupid to settle for anything less. For all his darkness, Blackwell wasn’t a moron. He’d probably demand more from me, and I’d have to give it to him. I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to agree to an open-ended favor in order to move forward with our task.
The oracle hovered in the doorway of the Brave. “Henry?” she asked worriedly.
The bitten werewolf was crouched on all fours between Kandy and Audrey at the edge of the bonfire. He was gobbling raw hot dogs, though he couldn’t quite keep them in his mouth while eating. In response to Rochelle’s voice, he straightened, offering the oracle a toothy grin.
Rochelle looked appropriately terrified by his appearance.
Beau slipped out from the shadows between the cabin and the RV. He hadn’t joined us at the fire, other than to offer Kandy the hot dogs to roast, along with various condiments sourced from the Brave. Then he’d fiddled with the broken hinge on the door of the Brave until it closed but still didn’t properly latch. He reached out to Rochelle and she stepped down beside him. She’d pulled a black, puffy ski jacket on over her hoodie.
“The marshal came to see you, but …” Beau’s explanation trailed off as his attention snagged on something behind us.
I didn’t have to turn to taste the peppermint drifting toward me from the sparsely wooded area between the bonfire and the house to the south. Instead, I looked up at the sorcerer, just in time to see Blackwell’s expression twist to a grimace that he quickly smoothed over.
“Kettil.” The sorcerer acknowledged the approaching vampire with a nod.
“Sorcerer,” Kett replied coolly. He crossed to stand a couple of feet behind me.<
br />
I laughed harshly. Truthfully, the vampire’s unpredictability was really only amusing when it wasn’t directly affecting me. But I couldn’t help feeling pleased that Blackwell might be worried about whether he was moments from death.
Capturing a vampire as old as Kett in a fog spell — as Blackwell had done while defending his castle from our entry two years ago — might cause that vampire to hold a grudge. It also might garner a certain amount of respect. But respect from a vampire could turn to dismemberment with a misspoken word or a misplaced gesture. Gran called that ‘hanging on tenterhooks.’
Beside me, Drake shoved a third hot dog into the bun he’d slathered with mayo, ketchup, and mustard — along with copious amounts of sand. Then he inhaled the concoction.
Yeah, I wasn’t big on eating outside. Unless the seaside patio came with umbrellas, heat lamps, and proper tableware, of course.
“Perhaps introductions are in order?” Blackwell asked.
“No,” Kett said.
I swallowed a smirk, straightening from the fire to face the sorcerer. “We all know you.”
“I won’t work with nameless mercenaries.”
Warner rose from beside me, eyed the sorcerer, then turned his back on him. I gathered he was opting to walk the perimeter rather than negotiate with Blackwell.
“I don’t like relying on such an ambivalent soul,” Drake said. His tone was completely benign, though he had just accused Blackwell of being morally challenged. “Is there another way, oracle? Another who can show us our path?”
A vein in Blackwell’s forehead pulsed, just once. But it was probably a bad thing that I noticed. I was bloodthirsty when it came to the sorcerer. And also completely aware that I blamed him for things that had most likely been out of his control. Sienna had been beyond all of our control. Even after I’d drained her magic, right up until the moment Desmond had stepped in … until she wasn’t anything anymore.
Still, it was easier to hold grudges than admit that I was willfully blind to the faults of the people I loved.
Rochelle squeezed Beau’s hand, then loosened her grip to reach out for Drake, beckoning him away from the fire and the hot dogs. “Shall we walk?” she asked. The white of her oracle magic rolled across her eyes.
Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic Page 18