by A. D. Winter
He wore a white V-neck T-shirt that showed off the valley of his chest, along with a tweed coat that was rolled back at the sleeves. His black leather pants were tight, and his boots were steel toed. Hanging from his neck, a colorless stone shimmered against his skin, teasing the depth of his power.
He was a wizard, and he was completely gorgeous.
He stood before the orcs, smoking a ciggy of dragon’s weed, and in a crisp Anglian accent that I recognized as high lingo, he asked, “I don’t suppose I could join this little soiree of yours?”
“Well, if it isn’t the Robin Hood of the quarter,” the leader said with a sneer. The others burst out laughing. “Running around in your little tights?”
The young wizard scratched his chin, seeming more amused than scared. “For your information,” he replied, “I was raised by someone who actually knew Robin Hood, and let me tell you, he did not wear tights.”
“Get lost, Dryden,” the leader said. “This is our party. Don’t make us turn you into a side dish.”
“I see.” Dryden leaned over and whispered in my ear, “It appears that our hosts aren’t the forgiving sort.”
“You just figured that out?” I asked.
The orcs spread out around us, blocking our escape. And I knew things were about to get ugly. Backing up against the wizard, I felt the strength of his body and arched a brow. Not bad.
“I’ll distract them,” he said. “Meanwhile, you make a run for it.”
“And leave you all the fun?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me and grinned. “Tough and beautiful. I like that.” His voice was smooth and full of mischief. “Very well. Stay at your peril.”
He flung his ciggy into an orc’s face, then summoned a ball of light in his hands. The light was bright, and the orcs had to squint to see. “Get behind me,” he whispered. “This first blast is a bit of a corker.”
“Just don’t burn the hair,” I said. “It took a lot of time to grow it this length.”
Dryden snorted. “Details.”
With a frightening blast, a ring of fire exploded from his hands, and the orcs were knocked back against the walls of the alley. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give us the precious few seconds we needed to attack.
The orcs were barely shaking off their daze as I stepped away.
“Where are you going?” Dryden asked.
“To take out the troll.”
“By yourself?”
“How else am I going to save your butt?”
“Save my butt?” He hiked a thumb at his chest, insulted. In the background, one of the orcs was rushing at him from behind.
I rushed past him and assailed the orc with a number of strikes, knocking him back until he fell to the ground.
I glanced back at Dryden. “You see what I mean?”
He rolled his eyes. “Lucky shot.”
I laughed as I raced back into the fray, somersaulting over a line of orcs and landing before the troll.
This was my element; this was what I loved.
I punched him in the face, broke his nose, cracked his jaw to the side. And for good measure, I even kicked him between the legs. When I was done, I shoved him over with the tip of my finger, and he fell to the ground, motionless.
I was already turning around when I saw a sharp ax flying for my nose. It’d been thrown by the leader of the orcs. He was watching me from the end of the alley, grinning as he waited for the ax to make its mark.
But it didn’t.
A blue shield erected itself before me, deflecting the ax at the last second.
I looked over and saw Dryden with his hand outstretched toward me, a smirk on his impossibly handsome face. “You’re welcome.”
I frowned. “Lucky shot!”
Picking up the ax, I joined the fray once more. The orcs were incredibly tough, as well as exhausting. It was like hitting one of Master Chun’s punching bags for a whole hour.
But the young wizard was incredible.
He shot fireballs from his hands, levitated over orcs, conjured shields at the last second, able to keep the enemy at arm’s length while never losing focus on his attacks. He was probably only an academic, but his strategy and composure were those of a grand master.
He shot a ball of mist at the orcs, blinding them for a moment, then followed up with a series of fireballs that burned their skin. They screamed out in pain as they did their best to put out the flames. But Dryden had obviously sought to frighten them more than hurt them, and the fire quickly burned out.
With their faces bruised, their skin smoking, they hurried to pick up the troll and retreated back into the street.
I joined Dryden in his view of them.
“Friends of yours?” I asked.
He arched a brow at me. “I thought they were with you.”
“They’re not really my crowd, if you know what I mean.”
“Actually, I don’t.” He leveled a mischievous gaze at me. “Perhaps you’d like to explain over a bottle of Witch’s Vine.”
I hesitated, genuinely enthralled by the invitation. It’d been a while since I’d gone out on a date, and he was definitely a catch. Yet as attractive as he was, I still had more important things to do. Time was ticking, and the warlock who’d made the potion was still out there. I needed to find them, and I couldn’t let myself be distracted by this hunk.
“Maybe another time,” I replied, already turning to leave. “Thanks for the help though.”
“Leaving already?” he asked.
I stopped to look back. “Got things to do, people to see. Can’t stand around here looking pretty all night.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“Stalk much, do you?”
“Only when it comes to defenseless young women who need my protection.”
“Who said I was defenseless?”
“I did.” He strode toward me with a cocky grin, his bangs falling lazily before his eyes.
If I hadn’t been wearing a robe, he probably would’ve seen my heart banging out of my chest. But he was all trouble. In fact, men like him carried secrets in their back pockets and were only interested in one thing. No, thanks.
But there was opportunity here. He was a magic user and, according to the orcs we had just beaten up, a regular in these parts. I could use him to find what I needed.
“How well do you know this place?” I asked.
“Like the back of my hand.”
“Ever deal in potions?”
He shrugged. “I’ve dabbled a bit. It was part of the curriculum in my early years. But not really my thing.”
“How ’bout those who make them?”
“Why?” he asked.
“I need a guide,” I said. “But if you can’t help me—”
“My dear,” he said with a grin. “I know every dark personality in this accursed place. If potions are your game, then you’ve found the right man. But I must warn you. Those who ask scary questions are met with scary answers.”
“Good,” I said. “Lead the way.”
12
Ivy
I followed closely as he led me out of the alley.
I wasn’t familiar with this part of the quarter, and for all I knew, he could’ve been the warlock himself, leading me to my doom. But I didn’t have a choice. The image of the fae dying kept racing through my mind, and I was determined to find the warlock who had murdered her.
We stopped as we came to a portly building with a single black door.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“You don’t trust very easily, do you?”
“Not when I’ve only known the person for a couple of minutes.”
“The fight with the orcs has left me famished,” he revealed in dramatic fashion. “And I need to regain myself before we continue.”
“A restaurant?” I asked. “You brought me to a restaurant?”
“Not just any restaurant,” he replied. “The Shunned Monkey!”
I frowned in con
fusion. “The Shunned Monkey?”
“It’s the best in the city,” he said. “But I’ll need you to be on your best behavior.”
“What are you trying to say?” I crossed my arms and angled my head at him.
“Well, from what I can tell, you can be a bit of a … savage,” he replied. “Not that I’m not into that sort of thing. But you have to understand, the owner of this establishment has a prejudice against chosen.”
“And why’s that?” I asked.
Before he could answer, the door opened, and a gigantic figure appeared in the doorway.
By Danu’s large eyes.
Dressed in a black tuxedo, its sharp horns spiraling from its blue face, was a frightening demon. It towered above us, its harsh face scarred from where an inquisitor’s ax had found purchase.
Well, that answers that.
“Who’s there?” the demon demanded. His voice was deep, and I could actually feel it vibrating in my chest.
Blue-skinned demons were from Qin, the part of Salvation that was ruled by ancient dynasties that had once ruled in the human world. In all my time training in that secretive world, I’d never come across one in the flesh. I needed to be careful.
“Aadinatha!” Dryden said with parted arms. “It’s good to see you, old boy!”
“Dryden? Is that you?”
“In the flesh.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” he replied.
“Unfortunately,” the demon muttered.
“Tell me,” Dryden said, ignoring the slight, “how’s the hoof?”
“Better since you lit it on fire.”
“Yes,” Dryden said in a repentant tone. “I did have a bit too much to drink that night. I’ll make sure to avoid the Witch’s Vine this time around.”
“What do you want?” the demon asked, clearly annoyed.
“A table,” Dryden replied. “One for me and my associate.”
The demon swiveled his gigantic head at me. “And who’s your associate?” He took in my scent, checking to see if I was dangerous.
As quickly as I could, I cleared my mind of all thoughts and focused on nothing but cute little bunnies.
It didn’t work.
The demon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “She smells of death.”
“It’s my deodorant,” I replied.
The demon cocked his head to the side, seeming unconvinced. “No. You carry a reek. A curse—one that I want no part of.”
He drew a blade from his belt, and I quickly stepped away. Demons were notorious for their great strength, but their skill with a blade was considered even greater. I’d clearly made a mistake by coming here.
“Aadinatha, please,” Dryden said, raising a hand at the demon. “We’re merely here to eat—that’s all.”
“Not her,” he said. “She’s searching for something.”
“You’re right,” Dryden confessed, halting the demon with a hand. “She is here for something. But not what you think.”
“What do you mean?” the demon asked.
“She’s actually … a food critic.”
The demon frowned. “A food critic?”
“Yeah,” I said, gripping Dryden by the arm. “A food critic?”
“Of course,” Dryden continued. “From the Salvation Gazette.”
The demon blinked as he thought. “As in the Salvation Gazette?”
“Is there any other?” Dryden asked.
The demon lowered his blade, and I saw a new expression on his face.
“You see, Aadinatha,” Dryden said, “this was just a simple misunderstanding. She’s nothing but a food critic.”
“Well, that would explain the reek,” Aadinatha said. He sheathed his blade, fixed his tuxedo, and smoothed the length of his horns. “Please excuse my manners,” he said with a bow. “My behavior may be rude, but I assure you my cuisine is not.”
Dryden glanced back at me, urging me to reciprocate.
I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t a food critic, and I definitely wasn’t polite. But I gave it a shot anyway.
“Well … I should hope not,” I said in my best scolding tone. “Otherwise, you’ll feel the sting of my pen come tomorrow.”
The demon bowed again and stepped aside, waving us to enter. “Please, do come in.”
The restaurant was a pocket of seduction and beauty, a sliver of concealment that was barely lit by the candelabras hanging from the ceiling mural. Everywhere I looked, I saw black lacquer walls with green vines. Flowers were blooming in the faint light, and the scent of fresh spring filled my senses. Not bad.
Aadinatha sat us at a booth in the back, a cozy little nook where I could keep an eye on the front door. I checked my timepiece and saw that it had already been seven hours since I had escaped the cells.
By the goddess’s long legs, I am losing time.
Aadinatha clapped his hands, and a tiny monkey charged out of the back. He quickly filled our glasses with water and left.
“I’ll give you two a minute to look over the menu,” Aadinatha said. “But might I recommend the harpy. It’s fresh, and we roast it with rosemary and a clove of garlic. Quite sumptuous indeed.”
After Aadinatha left, Dryden drew a ciggy from his coat and lit it with his finger. “So, what do you think?” He leaned back in his seat and gestured to the restaurant.
“I think I need you to take me to the potion makers.”
“All in due time.” He took a drag of his ciggy, then licked his beautiful lips. “But in the meantime, you must be a little impressed.”
I shrugged. “It’s not bad for the quarter. How’d you find it?”
“I live here.”
My brows rose in disbelief. “I’m sorry?”
“Upstairs.” His gaze lifted to the ceiling, and I caught a glimpse of a dragon tattoo stretching across the side of his neck. It was a bit naughty, and oh-so sexy. “It’s not the nicest of places. But it’s cheap. I just have to deal with a bit of rudeness now and then.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Well, they don’t really like foreigners,” he whispered. “Specifically those who don’t speak Qin. But worry not, my dear, for you have me to guide you in this strange land.”
“Oh?” I asked with a raised brow.
“You see, Qin is a very difficult language,” he explained. “Not just anyone can learn it, especially when it comes to the inflections. It requires a very focused mind. The slightest mispronunciation could spell disaster. You’re lucky that I’m here to help you.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“Take this one, for example.” He motioned to one of the servers, a young man with short black hair and a mouth that was in a perpetual frown. “He’s the worst of them all. Lives next door. Never utters a word to me, even when I do him favors. You’d do well to steer clear of him.”
“Will do.”
I sat up as the server arrived at our table.
“What do you want?” the young man asked, tapping his pad impatiently.
“I’ll have a Dwarf’s Ale,” Dryden said confidently in his best Qin. His grammar was correct, but the emphasis was lacking. He’d clearly never had the language beaten into him like I had. “And the young lady will have a Fairy’s Best.”
“Fairy’s Best?” I feigned a look of shock as I glared up at the young man, and in perfect Qin, I added, “He expects me to drink that swill?”
The server’s eyes widened in amazement, and Dryden perked up, appearing as if he’d just seen a monkey poop out a dragon. He rushed to correct himself, clumsily clearing his throat to speak. “Uh, I mean, whatever the lady wants. How about a Witch’s Vine?”
The server glanced back at me, waiting for my approval.
I gave a weak shrug. “What can I expect from such a savage?”
The server shook his head in disappointment, clearly disgusted with Dryden’s behavior. “I’ll be back,” he assured me with a smile.
“Thank you,” I said sweetly. “You’re very kind.”
Dryden waited for the server to leave before he spoke. “How come you speak Qin?”
“I was trained there,” I said.
He snorted. “I should’ve known. Only an inquisitor could fight like you do.”
“You couldn’t tell by the jacket?” I asked.
He shrugged. “This is the Forgotten Quarter. I see stolen jackets like yours every day. But you, apparently, you’re the real thing.”
I fought back a smile, enjoying the compliment. Usually guys only complimented me on my looks. But here, he was actually remarking on my ability. I liked that.
For a moment, I toyed with the idea of revealing the truth. That I’d just been excommunicated from the Order and was currently on the run for my life. But I doubted that would’ve gone over well. So I kept my mouth shut.
I looked up as the server returned. He rested a stemmed glass of Witch’s Vine before me, then slammed the mug of Dwarf’s Ale before Dryden, spilling some of it into his lap. Dryden glared up at the young server, heated.
“You ready to order now?” the server asked.
“Yes,” Dryden said, wiping his shirt with a napkin. “We’ll take two gryphon steaks and a side of roasted potatoes.”
“The potatoes will cost extra,” the server said as he began to tap his pad again.
“I’m sure they will,” Dryden replied, keeping his gaze fixed on me as the server left.
For the next couple of minutes, we enjoyed our drinks. Every now and then, he asked me a question. Where I was from. Why I had become an inquisitor. If I was dating anyone. It was the usual small talk of a guy hitting on me.
After a while, I began to notice the glares from the other women, striking beauties from Qin. They stole glances at the young wizard from the other tables, clearly taken by his good looks.
“Is something wrong?” He stared at me from across the table, his light-blue eyes narrowing into slits.
“Why’d you help me?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” he replied. “You were in trouble.”