by S. M. Boyce
Bonnie laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, Kent.”
“Shots?” he asked.
“Yeah, the usual.”
He turned and grabbed three shot glasses and filled each with Patron. He poured in one seamless line across all of the glasses without spilling a single drop.
“How did you do that?” Kara asked.
He laughed. “Magic.”
She grinned. “Magic, huh?”
“Oh yes, I’m a wizard.”
Bonnie grabbed one of the shots and drank it. “I’m going to stop this joke before it goes any further. In about two more lines, he’ll tell you he’s a wizard in bed and that you should see how he uses his—”
“Bonnie!”
“What, Kent? It’s exactly what you were going to say.”
He laughed. “True. I suppose I test out too many of my pickup lines on you.”
Bonnie nodded. “Well, little Miss America over here is taken, so hands off.”
Kent took one of the shots and glanced at Kara’s empty ring finger as he handed her the last drink.
“Yeah? Where is he?” he asked.
Instead of answering, Kara looked at her shot. She’d come this far, but drinking it would mean letting her guard down. She would be vulnerable. Could she handle that, even for one night?
She hesitated, but picked up the shot glass without another thought and downed it all in one swallow.
Gah, that burns. She shivered.
Bonnie leaned on the bar. “They’re having a lovers’ quarrel. Can I get a tequila sunrise?”
“Sure, love”—he turned to Kara—“and American, don’t forget to enjoy yourself. Just because your man isn’t here doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.”
“And by fun, he means with him. In bed,” Bonnie said with a grin.
Kent smiled again and grabbed some bottles from behind him. After a few minutes of shaking and stirring, he poured two bright orange drinks and pointed out a free table along the wall.
The dance floor was empty, so Kara followed Bonnie to the table. They slipped into the booth and just—talked. They laughed and poked fun at each other. As people trickled in, Bonnie pointed out a few boys she knew. And for once, nothing else in the world mattered to Kara but relaxing.
They took turns getting another round when the time came for it, and hours passed by like minutes. A gentle buzz resonated in the back of Kara’s mind. Her defenses dissolved, and all thoughts of Ourea slipped away.
She felt great.
Bonnie poked her shoulder. “Let’s get one more round and then go dance it out of our systems!”
“I’ll get them this time,” Kara offered.
She slipped out of their booth just as the lights lowered. Strangers pushed by her as she fought her way toward the bar. She hadn’t even noticed half of these people come in.
She managed to slip in close to where they’d been earlier, but Kent kept his eyes trained on a group of ladies in tight dresses down the line. Kara found an empty barstool and waited for him to look over. For entertainment, she played with a mini plastic sword someone had left behind, laughing as she tried to stab a peanut.
When did little plastic garnishes become so entertaining?
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She shivered and looked over her shoulder. Bodies pressed by, but no one eyed her. Still, the feeling wouldn’t go away.
She scanned the rows of people in the low lighting until she saw him. A man stood along the far wall, staring at her. Her heart skipped a beat. He had olive skin, dark hair, black eyes…
…and was not Braeden.
She took a deep breath.
Relax, Kara. He’s not here. That’s not him. Why should you feel guilty? He left you! You don’t have to twiddle your thumbs, waiting for him to swoop in and—
“We have to go,” someone said nearby.
Kara looked up to see the Braeden lookalike inch in beside her. He frowned and glanced about. His fingers tapped on the bar as if he couldn’t get out fast enough.
Wait, was he talking to me?
“Excuse me?” she asked.
He grabbed her elbow with a grip so tight it stung. “Come on. We need to leave.”
“Ow! No way! Who are you?”
“Now. Let’s go. We—”
Another voice, this one with an English accent, broke into the conversation. “He isn’t bothering you, is he?”
Kara looked over her shoulder to see a young man with rich blond hair and sharp green eyes. He had a thick build that was mostly muscle and glared at the lookalike who still had a firm hold on her elbow.
She twisted in the first man’s grip. “He is, actually.”
The lookalike let go.
“Good thing he’s leaving, then,” the blond man said.
The Braeden lookalike tensed his jaw and hesitated, but ultimately slipped into the crowd without another word.
“Well, aren’t you my knight in shining armor?” Kara asked.
“Nah, I’m the villain,” he said with a chuckle.
Kara grinned. “Clever.”
He offered his hand for her to shake. “My name is Theodore. What’s yours?”
“Of course your name is Theodore.”
“You can laugh all you like, but you should tell me yours, too.”
“Kara.”
She cringed. Oops. She’d meant to lie and say Anne. What should she—
Ah, screw it.
The little plastic sword shot out of her hand and landed somewhere in the throbbing pulse of dancing bodies that had materialized in her hours spent at the table with Bonnie. She was pretty sure magic had not been involved in her losing her little toy. Oh well.
“Can I call you Teddy?” she asked.
“Good Lord, no. What are you drinking?”
She laughed. “The only thing I know to order is a tequila sunrise.”
“It does the job. Might I get you away from your alcoholism for a dance, though?”
She hesitated. Her smile faded as she thought of Braeden.
Theodore reached for her hand and smiled. “No harm in just a dance.”
“Okay then, Theodore, but I need to let my friend know first,” she said.
He slipped a hand around her waist. “Lead the way.”
Kara headed back for the table with Theodore in tow, only to find that Bonnie had company of her own. The Scottish girl winked when she saw Kara and pointed toward the dance floor.
Have at him! Bonnie mouthed.
Theodore laughed. “It looks like we have her blessing.”
Kara grinned. Theodore grabbed her hand and led her to the middle of the crowded dance floor. Bodies twisted to the music. The thundering bass lines reverberated through Kara’s body. Her ears hurt from being close to a speaker. The recorded vocalist told everyone to dance, mentioned a few sexual innuendos, and then—yep, chorus. Not altogether imaginative, but fun nonetheless.
And thanks to Kara’s ever-waning attention span, fun was all she cared about.
Theodore reached around her waist and pulled her close. His hands pushed and swayed with the music, moving her body in time to the beat even if she missed the cue. She could smell his cologne: a musky combination of spices and musk and bark and sweat and just the slightest hint of something floral, too.
He smelled good, but Braeden smelled better.
But he left me!
Her grip on Theodore’s arms tightened as the veiled anger deep within her flared. The lights flickered. For a moment, the club-goers danced in complete darkness.
Theodore brushed back the hair covering Kara’s ear and leaned in. Her skin prickled. His breath rolled over her neck.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Kara’s stomach lurched. The edges of her vision darkened. Blue and purple spotlights spinning around the deejay veered in and out of her peripheral vision. Her knees shook and gave out, but Theodore caught her.
She didn’t know what just happened. Kara pushed herse
lf upright, but Theodore’s grip on her arms sent pins and needles into her fingertips. She had to stand, to get back to the table.
“I’m fine,” she said.
Theodore caught her as she teetered again. “No, you clearly aren’t. You look like you could use a break. I actually have that VIP room up there.”
He pointed upward. Kara forced herself to look up. A wall of windows above the bar overlooked the dance floor. Stairs wound up to it from the right. The windows reflected the scene below, no doubt tinted to keep anyone from peering in.
Theodore leaned down to speak in her ear again, but he held the back of her neck this time. Warmth rushed through her at his touch, quelling the nausea. A treacherous thought flickered in her mind, and she wanted him to just hold her like that forever.
“Come sit for a while. I promise to be a perfect gentleman. I’ll ask the bouncers to bring up your friend if that would make you more comfortable.”
Buzzing swirled in the back of her mind. Queasiness pitched in her stomach. Her cheeks flushed, and she nodded.
“Thank goodness. You look ill,” he said with a sigh.
Theodore tightened his hold on Kara’s hand and wrapped his other around her waist. He led her through the crowd and gestured to a bouncer. They shared a few words Kara didn’t hear before the bouncer jogged off. She glanced at Theodore, and he smiled.
“He recognized you. He’ll be back in a few with your friend.”
She smiled. If he was lying and tried anything once they were alone, she would just beat the tar out of him, drunk or no.
He led her up the stairs, guiding her the whole way. Kara looked out over the dance floor, hoping to see Bonnie, but the hundreds of bodies pulsed together in a constant rhythm to the music. She could barely tell the girls from the guys, they were all so close.
Theodore opened the door and let it swing inward before guiding her inside. A row of black couches covered the wall to their left. To the right, the wall of windows revealed the dance floor and a perfect view of the deejay on his stage.
Theodore led Kara to a couch and shut the door. As soon as he let her go, the nausea abated. Her head cleared a bit, and the room brightened. She saw new details, now. A woman stood at a mini bar on the far wall, her back turned. Fake plants added a splash of green to each of the room’s corners.
The woman by the mini bar turned around and grinned.
Deirdre.
Kara gagged and pushed herself to her feet. Panic raced through her body, paralyzing her for a moment. Cold dread ate away at the buzz in her mind.
Theodore shoved her back into the couch. “Sit, Kara Magari.”
Kara obeyed in that she sat on the edge of her seat. She eyed him, pulse racing. Her fingertips danced along the edge of the cushion, waiting for the right moment to push off and race for the door.
Only an arrogant drunk would try to fight Deidre. Kara had to get out.
Theodore crossed his arms. His skin began to peel away, cracking and dripping like wax until the blond Englishman faded and a taller man glared down at her. He had a slender build and short dark hair. A well-trimmed beard accented his perfect features.
Kara stifled a curse—she’d managed to run across yet another isen. And if he’d come with Deirdre, he was probably evil, too.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Take a guess, my dear,” he said, his voice thick with a Russian accent.
“Niccoli?”
He nodded.
“I thought you didn’t run your own errands,” Kara said, glaring at Deirdre.
He grinned. “Is that so? Well, I do run the important ones.”
So the floral note of his cologne had been lilac, and the woody smell had been pine. Kara kicked herself for letting her guard down, but the drinks had dulled her senses. That’s what she’d wanted them to do. She had allowed herself one night of genuine fun because she’d never dreamed that someone would find her. Not in Scotland. Not on such short notice.
Lavender fire erupted around her hands, but the flames barely reached her wrists. Her strength and power were too far away to reach.
Niccoli frowned. “Is that the best you have? I’m disappointed.”
Kara glanced to the exit, trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this mess, but Deirdre clicked her tongue and laughed.
“You really shouldn’t try,” she said.
Niccoli took a step closer. “It wasn’t easy to find you. Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”
“You want the Grimoire. I’ve heard this a million times. You’re nothing new.”
“I couldn’t care less about that book. It’s useless to me. No, I want you.”
A wave of confusion crashed over her, and the fire in her hands dulled.
“Why?”
“Because you, Kara, are an isen. I couldn’t steal your soul if I tried.”
The flames in her hands went out. Her brow wrinkled. She looked to Deirdre, who frowned in disappointment.
No. That was impossible.
Kara’s pulse raced as she tried to process what Niccoli had told her. She wasn’t an isen. She couldn’t be. It was a trick, or just a blatant lie.
Niccoli inched closer. The flames reignited again in Kara’s palms. He shook his head and stopped moving.
“I am not an isen,” she said.
“I couldn’t care less if you don’t believe me. I don’t waste my time. Is the water ready, Deidre?”
“Yes.” She turned off the faucet. A few lingering drops fell from the tap, spreading ripples across the full sink.
“What’s that for?” Kara asked. She needed to get out of here.
Niccoli paused, as if unsure whether or not he should answer. “Being awakened is a painful process, Kara. To turn, you must meet Death. To meet Death, you must die.”
Kara’s throat went dry. These crazy people were going to drown her.
A fresh wave of panic stabbed through her. She raced for the door without another thought or even a plan.
Niccoli grabbed her wrist and spun her away from the exit. Pain shot through her arm at his grip. He pinned her against the wall with her hands over her head. His force kicked the air from her lungs. The flames dancing over her fingers went out with a hiss.
Deirdre sauntered over with a small wooden box in her hands—the wooden box Kara’s dad had told her to find, all those months ago. Deirdre must have grabbed it. Of course she’d known about it; she’d stolen his soul and with it, his memories.
Kara shot her knee into Niccoli’s gut. He grunted, but the blow hadn’t been enough. His grip tightened. He pressed his thumb against her forehead. A chill began at his touch and coursed through her body, freezing her in place. Her finger twitched, but otherwise, she couldn’t move.
Deirdre smashed the box against the wall and grabbed the small leather item that fell out of it. It was a wrist guard, but with one tweak: a row of small barbs pointed inward, toward where its wearer’s skin would be, in a strange pattern Kara couldn’t recognize.
Deirdre wrapped the guard around Kara’s wrist and pressed on the leather until its spikes dug into her skin. Kara yelled from the pain.
Niccoli covered her mouth with his hand, and the scream died.
He leaned in. “When you’re first awakened, the power will be almost too much to handle. This wrist guard is a training tool that will teach you to control yourself.”
Kara tried to speak, but pain still coursed through her arm. It brought back memories of the spikes Aislynn had used to subdue her. The pain throbbed with every heartbeat.
“Look at me,” Niccoli said.
She glared at him. The edges of his hands covered some of her vision.
He sneered. “You have nothing. Your master is gone. Your book is gone. Your lover, your friends, everything you know—all gone. I am all you have left. Without me, you are utterly alone.”
In response, Kara bit his hand with everything she had.
He flinched and pulled away, cursing in a
language she didn’t know. She kicked him hard in his stomach. He curled over, leaning against her as he recovered from the blow.
She leaned in. “I can save myself.”
Heat charged through her body. Purple flames erupted over everything: her hair, her cheeks, her clothes. Niccoli screamed and pulled away, letting her hands go as the flames clung to him. It was enough.
The sprinklers roared to life, dousing the room with indoor rain. The fire on Kara fizzled out as she bolted for the door.
Deirdre lunged, but Kara shot a fist into the isen’s throat without a second thought. Deirdre gagged. Kara threw opened the door and jumped over the stairwell to the floor. She landed with a thud. A sharp pain shot up her calf.
A small part of Kara nagged her about how easy it had been to escape Deirdre. The isen couldn’t be taken out by a quick punch, not after everything Kara had seen the terrifying woman do. Yet she’d barely fought. Kara wanted to analyze it, to guess at what Deirdre had up her sleeve, but she didn’t have time. If it meant not being drowned, she would have to run with it.
People raced by, yelling as the sprinklers over the dance floor soaked them. Puddles formed in the dips on the floor. The deejay pulled plugs and threw tarps over his equipment, cursing loud enough for Kara to hear from the other side of the room.
An exit sign blared from under the stairs, so she limped toward it. That was, at least, until a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows beneath the stairwell.
She cursed.
“Quiet, Kara! I’m trying to help,” a man said.
In the dim shadows beneath the stairs, she saw the boy from earlier—the one she had mistaken for a moment as Braeden.
She twisted in his grip. “Get away from me! How do you know my name?”
The boy’s skin cracked and peeled, just like Niccoli’s. She cocked her arm to punch him—not another isen!—but he grabbed her wrist. She wrestled with him, but it took only a moment longer before she recognized Stone.
She groaned. He let go of her wrist.
“Find her!” Niccoli yelled over the screams from drunken girls getting soaked by the still-pouring sprinklers.
Stone pushed open the door beneath the stairs and gestured through it with a bow. “Unless you’d like to die or be enslaved for eternity, we should probably go.”