I sounded a lot braver than I felt, and Alex rewarded me with a grin. “It’s a date, and if you stand me up, well, I’ve got another smelly charm tucked away for a special occasion.”
With a spring in her step, she started walking again, tugging me inside a red tent, the flap embroidered with golden filigree. A hand-painted sign staked into the ground read WARES. Because the festival wasn’t really yet open for business, we had the place to ourselves, though Lori already had it all set up. Two long rows of tables dominated the space, with cuts organized for sale on the tabletops. Even if they hadn’t been labeled, I would have known what they were by their scents alone, if not by the telltale wisps that rose from their intricately carved surfaces. But none of them was too strong, so I breathed through my mouth and cautiously walked deeper into the tent.
There was a table for almost every kindled power here. Not every family was represented in person—my mom’s family, the Cabreras, were scarce in the States and based in Brazil, and the Kitsamuras were based in Japan. However, there were other kindled who, through our tangled family trees, had inherited the powers associated with those family names. Apart from the Medicis, who had their own trading space, the only one not represented was the Croft family. Their tollat magic had been both famous and despised in the kindled world—it included the ability to siphon others’ magic and use it as one’s own. But the Croft family had died out in the late nineteenth century, and to my knowledge, no one had turned up with those powers in the past fifty years or so, with one notorious exception.
Henry Delacroix, the former president of the Deathstalkers. With his death, it appeared the tollat magic had gone extinct. Our kindled world had lost a slice of its vibrancy and variation, but no one thought it was a bad thing.
I spotted the Niklos table and headed for it. They possessed animalia magic—the ability to talk to animals, control animals, sometimes shape-shift into them. I’d never met my grandmother Niklos on my mom’s side—she’d died before I was born—but I’d always been interested in her magic. Talking to animals seemed like a very useful ability. Katrina was a Niklos and apparently had that power, but she was nowhere in sight anymore, thank God.
Alex wandered over to the Stoneking table and fingered a cut with a swirling silver design on the front.
“Let me ask you something,” she said.
“Okay.”
“Do you think it’s possible to bind another family’s magic to your own?”
I thought about that. “I heard that if you mix your blood with another kindled, you get temporary access to their power and a sort of rush.” Blood magic was severely frowned upon in the kindled community. My dad had once told me it led down a dangerous path, but he wouldn’t explain much more than that. I’d only been about ten at the time. “I’ve heard that it’s addictive. Is that what you’re talking about?”
She bit her lip. “I’m thinking about a lot more than mixing your blood with someone else’s. But blood is the key, right?”
I gestured at all the cuts around us. “That’s how you make these. It’s the only way to share power. A measure of blood plus a specific incantation or rune combination to trigger the magic.”
“Yeah, of course, but that’s using your own magic. I’m talking about stealing someone’s power for good. Getting it directly from blood instead of a cut.”
My eyebrows rose. “Are you planning to—?”
“No!” She glanced at the entrance to the tent as if she was worried someone was listening. “I’m just wondering about something called blood power, and how dangerous it is.”
“Why?”
She bit her lip, apparently not yet ready to spill.
I let it slide for the moment. “The only way I’ve ever heard of taking another person’s power without a cut is doing blood magic—but that’s more about combining and mixing power, isn’t it? Oh, and there’s tollat magic. Siphoning someone else’s power.”
“That’s only temporary, too, though. Right?”
I ran my fingers through a hanging display of cuts strung up on leather cording, sneezing as the scents mixed and hit my nose. “I guess we’ll never know. But you’re talking about something permanent? What’s up?”
She shoved her sunglasses up on the top of her head and looked over at me. “That thing I wanted to tell you… I found something of my dad’s, some notes he was keeping before he died and—”
The tent flap rustled as someone entered, cutting Alex off. We both turned to the newcomer.
Darek stood in the doorway. He looked from me to Alex and pulled back a step. “Hey.”
A flutter of excitement burst open in my chest, along with a stab of anxiety.
Alex tossed a terra charm back to its table. Her earlier seriousness disappeared, replaced by a flirtatious smile and a batting of her eyes. “And who are you?”
“Darek. Delacroix.” He grinned, stepped past me, and offered his hand to Alex. “Alex, right? We actually met briefly at last year’s festival. I guess I’m not that memorable.”
She blinked at him. “I must have been trashed. I can’t imagine forgetting that face.”
He gave me a quick glance, still smiling. “Fair warning—I’m a Deathstalker. I know we’re mortal enemies, but I can’t help but appreciate beautiful girls when I see them.”
She narrowed her eyes, but I could see the half-smitten smile creeping across her lips.
I suddenly felt a little sick.
“Is that right?” She shook his hand. “I suppose lines can be blurred for one day. This is my friend Jemmie.”
Darek gave my hand a brief shake and turned so he faced us both. He’d showered and changed recently, his blond hair still damp and raked back from his forehead. He was now wearing ripped black jeans and a white T-shirt, a pair of sunglasses hanging from the collar.
“Were you looking for something in particular?” Alex asked. Her eyes flicked to me, speaking our unspoken language. This one is cute, the look said. See, you should have worn short shorts!
If only she knew.
Outside, the roar of motorcycles sounded in the distance. Alex let out a breath, disrupting a lock of hair that hung along her face. “That’s my cue. Jem, I’ll catch up with you in a bit. Nice meeting you, Darek. I hope my brother doesn’t kill you.” Alex side-eyed me, and waggled her eyebrows, before slipping outside.
When I was sure she was out of earshot, I whisper-shouted at Darek. “What are you doing?”
Darek frowned. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“She can’t find out we know each other. You heard what she said—Crowe is looking for the slightest excuse to crush bones. Especially Deathstalker bones. Remember—he thinks Deathstalkers killed his dad.”
“I asked some of the guys about that earlier. Michael Medici died in a motorcycle accident out on Bayou Road.”
I nodded. “But Crowe said it looked like his venemon magic had been turned on him. Is that something Killian could have done?”
Darek laughed. “You met him last year, right?”
“Yeah, but just a handshake at a mixer. It’s not like we’re pals. He doesn’t really—”
“Look like the leader of a gang?”
“I guess not.” He looked more like an accountant, actually. “But come on. I’ve heard talk.”
“It’s true, Killian is a badass. And I guess he could manipulate someone into using their own magic against themselves if he wanted to, but trust me, the guy is determined to keep our club straight. I would bet my life he didn’t harm a hair on Michael Medici’s head. Unless he was bald. Was he bald? I never met him.”
“Stop.” I grew serious. “A lot of people around here are still grieving his death.”
The smile melted off Darek’s face. “I’m a jerk. I’m sorry.” He reached out and touched my arm, and I sighed at the warmth of his fingers, wanting to relax into him again. “Forgive me?”
I laughed. “Okay. Just this once. But be careful about what you say around here. Promise?”
“Will do. Now…” He wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled me into his side. The cigarette-and-mint smell of him was heavier than it had been before. “Alex likes me. I’m a likable guy. What say we stop Romeo and Julietting around and take this public? It would be the talk of the festival.”
“Absolutely not.” I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. He’d kept his voice light, but there had been a note of hope there, and I still wasn’t quite sure it would be fair to him to start something.
He laughed and pulled me closer into a half hug. His mouth pressed against my temple. “It’s okay, Jem. I mean, you’re breaking my heart here, but I can try to withstand the pain a little longer.”
“I have to go,” I said, and pulled away.
Darek grabbed me around the waist and tugged me back.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because if Crowe walked in right now, one of us would be gutted. Probably me.”
“Damn. Abusive much? You know that’s what you’re supposed to call that behavior, right?” Now he looked pissed. His fists were clenched. Crap. With the Harleys parked, the Devils could be heard shouting and laughing outside, and fear pulled me taut.
“I was exaggerating. He’d never hurt me.” Not physically, anyway. He’d already hurt me emotionally, too many times to count.
“Don’t make excuses for him,” he whispered in my ear. “In fact, don’t think about him at all.” Darek’s fingers found their way beneath my shirt, to the sensitive skin at the small of my back. His fingers were ghosts, his touch light but somehow far-reaching, too, so that I felt it all the way down to my toes.
I wanted him to stop.
I didn’t want him to let go.
My knees threatened to buckle. The minty bite of my magic was all around me, clinging to him where our skin connected like it didn’t want to let him go, either. I closed my eyes just long enough to summon an ounce of self-control. Darek’s hands withdrew, and he stepped away.
“I’ll see you later, then? At the house?” he asked.
I blinked. “Um… sure.”
He started for the door.
“Wait.” I brushed past him. “Let me go first. Just in case.”
He nodded and waited in the shadows of the tent as I ducked outside into the stark light of day, suddenly blinded.
SEVEN
I LOST ALEX FOR A FEW HOURS AFTER SHE’D LEFT ME WITH Darek. I spent most of that time wandering the grounds, greeting and chatting with a few people I hadn’t seen since last year in New Orleans, talking about their journeys to Hawthorne and their plans for the summer. I finally ran into my best friend near the beer tent. By then, the sun had started to slip lower in the sky, the branches of the surrounding woods reaching to swallow it entirely. People had started to arrive in greater numbers, and the makeshift parking lot at the eastern end of the property quickly filled up. The scent of magic all mixed together blended into a heavy funk that made my stomach churn and my vision blurry. My happy Jack Daniel’s buzz had pretty much worn off, and beer was going to be a necessity.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Alex said, and grabbed me by the hand. She tried to pull me away from the beer tent, but I planted my feet.
“I’ve been looking for you, too,” I said. “You were about to tell me something when Darek walked in and—”
“Calling him by his first name now, are you?”
“What else would I call him?”
“Hot Stuff, maybe.”
I sighed. “So what were you going to tell me? Something you found of your dad’s?”
“Later. First, we are on a mission,” she said triumphantly, as if we were setting off to save the world. But I knew Alex well enough that I was immediately on guard. Her missions usually led to trouble. Actually, everything Alex did led to trouble.
“What sort of mission? And can I have a drink first?”
“Operation: Eavesdrop. And no, you can’t.” She tugged my arm, clearly willing to put up a fight.
With a whine, I started walking. “Who are we eavesdropping on?”
“My brother.”
A few kindled I didn’t recognize hurried down the path ahead of us, lighting lanterns suspended from curved iron hooks. Two of the kindled used conventional grill lighters. The third used her outstretched hand and a breath of shimmering pink air. The wick inside the lantern caught quickly, the tip of the flame crackling with magic. It reminded me of fireworks—a snap and sparkle, along with the earth-and-flowers scent of terra magic.
Alex led me to an unmarked tent that sat on the edge of the large clearing, far enough away from the festival entrance that no one had managed to stumble their way back here yet, and if Crowe had his way, no one would.
Shhh, Alex mouthed, and pressed a finger against her lips.
I rolled my eyes, because obviously I knew the finer points of eavesdropping.
The lanterns here hadn’t been lit yet, and the shadows had gathered in wide swaths, giving us enough darkness to disappear. Suddenly I was eight years old again, and listening in on our parents as they drank and practiced and talked about the old days.
Adult conversations had always been their own kind of magic, and although Crowe wasn’t much older than we were, club business—business we weren’t technically privy to—was just as exciting to listen in on. Plus, the fog of magic was a little lighter here with fewer kindled and cuts around, so I could breathe and see a little easier.
We crept around to the back of the tent and got as close to the canvas as we dared.
I could hear the shuffle of boots over dry grass as someone circled the inside of the tent.
“Jane warned me something might go down tonight,” Crowe was saying. “You all know we’ve made a lot of enemies. The Deathstalkers are here and shouldn’t be underestimated, even if their numbers are small. And I’ll be honest—I’m not sure if the Sixes and the Kings consider our beef settled from earlier this year—”
“I’m thinking you served that beef to them pretty well-done, Crowe,” Boone said. A ripple of laughter went through the tent.
“I did what I had to do to discourage further patch-over attempts. Now, I know this is supposed to be a celebration, but it’s also an opportunity for someone to make a move. We’re all here in one place and half of us will be drunk by midnight.”
A few of them whistled and clapped.
“I want our people safe,” Crowe continued, and the tent fell silent again. “And we need to protect those who can’t protect themselves for whatever reason. Brooke, keep an eye on Old Lady Jane. She might not be a Devil, but she’s important and valuable.”
“And old,” said Brooke, laughter in her voice. “And weird as shit.”
“Be careful about saying any of that to her face,” said Crowe. “Unless you want her to tell you when you’re going to die.”
“She wouldn’t!”
“She would,” said Crowe. “She’s done it before, and she’s never been wrong.” He sounded solemn now. And miserable.
Next to me, Alex’s eyebrows rose in question.
“Boone,” Crowe went on, “I want you on Alex. She’s bound and powerless for the time being. Kent, keep an eye on my mother. She can hold her own, but you can’t be too careful. Hardy, I want you on Jemmie.”
I let out a surprised gasp. He was willing to waste one of his best men on shadowing me?
Alex scowled at me and I clamped my mouth shut.
From the crunch of his footsteps in the dried grass, I could tell Crowe was moving through the gang as he gave each of them their assignments. The light inside threw his shadow against the canvas as he approached, and he was now just feet away, a thin flap of fabric the only thing between us. I held my breath, hoping he hadn’t heard me. I wasn’t sure what he’d do if he caught us listening in on a conversation we definitely should not be listening in on.
“Flynn, keep an eye on the Stalkers,” he went on. “They have eight full-patch members here who you all know, plus a prospect. Darwi
n or Derwood or something.”
Alex stifled a snort.
“I think his name is Drake,” offered Hardy.
“Nah, it’s Drew,” said Flynn. “I ran into him near the outhouses earlier. He definitely looked like he was about to shit his pants.” He had altered his voice with his inlusio magic, deepening it so that it echoed inside the flimsy tent. Puffs of his power wafted from within, and I inhaled the cigar scent of it.
Crowe chuckled. “Well, I’m guessing if none of us have heard of him and he hasn’t drawn enough attention for us to even remember his name, he’s not a major threat. I’d know if he had a rep.”
I let out a breath of relief—Darek would have been stung to hear the Devils dismiss him like that, I was sure, but it was the safest thing.
Alex arched an eyebrow at me. I tried really hard to keep my face blank, but it felt like I was biting back a smile.
Crowe doled out a few more orders before dismissing everyone. When the tent was empty save for him and Hardy, Hardy said, “You really think they’ll make a move tonight?”
“I don’t know.” A chair groaned as one of them sat down. There was silence for a minute. I couldn’t see him, but I could picture Crowe scrubbing at his face, revealing just a sliver of his worry to the one person he was okay showing it to. Hardy was his best friend, his brother in all things but blood. “Jane doesn’t have anything concrete. She hasn’t had anything concrete in the year or so she’s been advising me. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be vigilant. She’s seemed more on edge lately.”
“You think she’s holding back?”
“Don’t know why she would. She might be a little strange, but she doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. She’s the one who came to me when she got a sense something would happen at the festival.”
“Doesn’t she know exactly what’s going down?”
“She said it’s too big to wrap her head around. It involves too many people at once, too many loose threads as she calls them. And… I think she worries that her predictions might actually shape the future in a bad way.” He muttered something else I couldn’t make out.
Devils & Thieves Series, Book 1 Page 8