“But I can assure you,” Valor says as if there was no interruption, “if I do hear anything, I’ll reach out. I may think laws about bloodgiving by supernaturals are a little… stricter than necessary, but I can’t condone drugging people to circumvent things.” He rubs the side of his face. “I would send you to Atticus, since he’s far older than any of us and has pretty much seen it all, but he’s such a recluse, I doubt he’d have much connection to any newer happenings.”
I nod, although I can’t suppress a wave of disappointment. Valor was so helpful last time we crossed paths with him, part of me was sure he would hold the answers we need this time around too.
A door down the hallway clicks closed and Poe tenses again like he’s assessing potential threats.
“I’m about to head out, Sophie Mae, so if you…” A lean, blond man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, stops short when he catches a glimpse of the three of us standing in the kitchen. His face scrunches quizzically as he takes us all in, his eyes lingering so long on Poe I can’t help wondering if they’ve crossed paths before. “I didn’t realize we had guests.”
Sophie brightens at the sight of the man, who’s dressed in khakis and a blue dress shirt. Valor turns back to his cooking as she crosses the kitchen and embraces the newcomer, resting her forearms on his shoulders and lacing her fingers behind his neck. She presses up on her toes as he leans down until their lips meet in a slow, sultry kiss.
A shock like electricity flashes through my body. The last time we crossed paths with Sophie, I assumed she and Valor were an item. She was clearly close to Hagan, too, but I figured his crush on her was unreciprocated. But what if I read the situation wrong? There’s nothing platonic in the way she kissed Valor or this new guy.
When their kiss finally ends, Sophie turns within the circle of the man’s arms to face us. “Cary, these are the people we were telling you about—the ones who wanted to find Elowen.”
The friendly-looking man winces at the name. “I hope you found what you were looking for.”
“Are you an anchor, too?” The question bubbles out of Bryn like she’s been dying to ask it. But it isn’t until the words hang in the air that I realize it’s the exact thing I want to know.
Sophie tilts her head. “What’s an anchor?”
The glistening excitement ebbs from Bryn’s eyes, but she recovers quickly. “It’s like… If someone’s magic is hard to access or unpredictable, they need something to focus their energy. And sometimes that thing is a person.”
Sophie giggles and Cary chuckles. Even Valor’s shoulders shake with laughter. Whatever reaction I was expecting from Bryn’s explanation, it wasn’t this.
“What’s so funny?” There’s an edge to my voice so I take a breath to calm myself.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie says, and she looks it, even behind the dimples she’s sporting. “It’s just, no, I’m definitely not an anchor. In fact, if there’s a such thing as an anti-anchor, that’s me.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” I insist. “Do you unfocus magic or something?”
“I mute it,” Sophie says matter-of-factly. “When someone’s within a certain radius of me, they can’t use their abilities.”
Her assertion is so ludicrous I find myself preparing to ignite a fireball in my hand a split second after she’s finished speaking. Except, to my surprise, nothing happens. This isn’t like the countless times it’s been difficult for me to call on the spark of magic within me—it’s like it isn’t there at all.
As if sensing my distress, Sophie reaches her hand toward me reassuringly. “Don’t worry. As soon as you’re not around me anymore, everything will be back to normal. There aren’t any lasting effects.”
Although her words calm me, the wrinkle of concern stays firmly lodged between Bryn’s eyebrows. “But if you’re not an anchor, then… I mean—not to be nosy—but it seems like you’re with…” She gestures vaguely between Valor and Cary.
Sophie nods knowingly. “Don’t worry—you’re not being nosy. You’re right; I’m with both Valor and Carrigan.”
“And Jonas and Hagan,” Cary adds with a smile.
The full force of Sophie’s admission hits me like a ton of bricks. Although she’s not a magical anchor like Bryn, there is something else that has put her in a position to love and be loved by four men. Just a like that, a situation that seemed extreme-but-worth-it feels somehow… normal. Questions begin spinning in my head—from queries regarding sleeping arrangements to the logistics of lovemaking schedules, but I keep myself from popping off with them rapid-fire.
Instead, I stand and marvel at the extraordinary right here in the same city we find ourselves in.
Bryn blinks a few times as she processes this new information. But Sophie seems to be doing some wheel-spinning of her own. Moments later, the light turns on behind her blue eyes.
Sophie appraises both Poe and me with new eyes before turning her attention back to Bryn. “These two?”
Bryn bites her lower lip. “Plus two more. Silas and Calder.”
The other woman beams. “The other guys from before?”
My girl nods, staring at Sophie with something akin to wonder. I can feel something passing between them—an understanding and a camaraderie that few others could ever experience.
Poe sets a gentle hand on Bryn’s shoulder. “I’m sure you two could come up with a lot to talk about, but maybe we should save that for another day.”
A moment passes before Bryn nods. “You’re probably right.”
Sophie holds her hand out to shake. “Well, then, I look forward to that day.”
Instead of shaking her hand, Bryn surprises Sophie by going in for a hug. The two embrace, and the sight pulls at my heartstrings. I can’t help thinking that whatever power brought me, Bryn, Poe, Silas, and Calder together also conspired to force our paths to intersect with Sophie’s. A beautiful future stretches out before me, complete with girl-dates between Bryn and Sophie.
Before we leave, Sophie passes her phone number to Bryn. By the time we’re back into our rental car, I’m feeling rather optimistic.
But Poe exhales noisily as he climbs into the driver’s seat. “I hope Silas has better luck.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Silas
Stepping into Waywards feels different than it ever has before. Perhaps it’s because I’m not alone. Calder walks beside me, trying too hard to be nonchalant. Although he played it off on the drive here, his exaggeratedly casual strut makes it clear he’s nervous walking into a bar whose clientele is exclusively daemons and vampires. I doubt he’s afraid for his safety; Calder’s not the kind of elitist douche who believes daemons and vampires are nothing more than an amalgamation of the worst stereotypes about them. Instead, I figure he doesn’t want to draw undue attention to our visit.
But if that’s the case, his worry is for naught. It’s mid-afternoon now—after the lunch crowd and well before the influx around dinnertime. There are only twelve people in the dining area, and none of them so much as glance up as we make out way toward the bar. Three women sit in a booth in the back, gesticulating broadly as they sip margaritas and munch on a large plate of loaded nachos. A group of six men and women take turns at a pool table along the side wall. Two men hunch over a high-top table, sipping on mugs of beer as they converse. An older man sits at the far end of the bar, a line of empty glasses informing the world he’s at least five shots into his routine.
Although I can’t tell just by glancing, I’d bet each of them is a daemon. It’s possible some of them are vampires, but the sort who frequent this place aren’t usually the ones who possess the enchanted rings that allow them to walk in daylight.
Well, I suppose there is one vampire here—the very one I came to see. Jesse steps out of the kitchen through the swinging double doors, looking every bit the part of an old west saloon keeper with his black vest and long white apron. A slight crinkling around his eyes is the only indication that he may be surprised that I�
�m traveling with someone.
“Whiskey?” Jesse asks as I take a seat at the bar. Calder sits beside me, seemingly unsure what to do with his long legs. First, he perches his feet on the brass bar running along the floor. Then he opts for folding his legs up to hook his heels on the rungs of the stool. Finally, he settles on leaning forward far enough to press his feet to the floor, as if he’s expecting to have to take off running at any moment.
Jesse regards him mildly during his awkward shuffling, and I fight the urge to punch Calder in the shoulder and tell him to knock it off.
“Whiskey sounds great,” I say when Calder finally stops twisting on his seat.
Jesse nods. “And for your friend here?”
Calder’s eyes widen like he’s surprised to be addressed. With each passing moment, I regret not insisting he stay in the car while I came in. “I, uh… Just a beer. A stout, if you’ve got it.”
As Jesse moves to fill our orders, I nudge Calder with my elbow. “Will you chill out?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m nervous. I’ve never been under cover before.”
I stifle a groan. “You’re not under cover. You’re just checking on a lead with me. Now, please, stop acting so squirrelly or we’re gonna get kicked out of here.”
Although I’m not convinced Jesse would actually make Calder leave for acting weird, the threat brings its intended result. As if a switch has been flipped, Calder’s posture relaxes to something natural and he looks less like an under-age kid waiting for the bouncer to realize his ID is fake and more like a regular guy having a drink with his friend at a bar.
Friend. It’s the first time I’ve applied the word to Calder, and I’m surprised how well it fits. It’s strange how by being accepted by Bryn, I’ve been adopted into something larger. And although I know that at this moment, Calder and I aren’t really hanging out just to enjoy each other’s company, I have a flash of what could be. One day, when we’re done worrying about curses and euphorium and vampiric plots, Calder and I could go to a bar like this and shoot pool or throw darts. Hell, maybe Poe and Taj could come, too. Although Bryn is the glue that initially bound us all, she doesn’t have to be the only thing that keeps us together. When this is all over, we can explore what it means to all be friends.
When Jesse returns with our drinks, I’m so overwhelmed by my realization that he’s turned to go back to the kitchen before I remember my agenda. “Hey, Jesse? Can I ask you something?”
In a display of his preternatural speed, Jesse is before us again in a flash. “What can I do for you, Silas?”
I fight not to crack a smile when Calder flinches at Jesse’s sudden reappearance. “We’re wondering if you’ve heard anything about vampire blood supplies lately.” Calder and I went back and forth on the way here about the best way to ask our questions, and we settled on being direct without giving too much away. While I’m fairly certain Jesse’s not the kind of vampire who would be okay with hooking people on drugs as a way of getting their blood, the fact is I can’t be sure. I have no idea of Jesse’s backstory, of how old he is or what life he led before opening Waywards. There’s a chance he chose to open this bar because he wants nothing to do with other kinds of supernaturals.
Jesse’s eyebrows twitch together—the only indication my question has surprised him. “Should I have?” There’s a note of concern in his voice, and I can understand why. At least half of his clientele relies on the human blood he imports—all through legal channels; I know because he displays his elders-approved blood certificate on the wall the way a nom bar posts its liquor license.
Jesse’s gaze flickers to Calder. “He’s cool,” I say quickly. “Not here to stir up any trouble.”
“I’ve been getting all my blood through sanctioned channels,” Jesse says. “And I abide by all the ordering limits. Has someone been saying otherwise?”
I shake my head. Although he hasn’t raised his voice, there’s a tightness in Jesse’s jaw that speaks to his agitation. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just…” I glance at Calder, who gives an almost imperceptible nod. “We’ve got it on pretty good authority that Lillian Castle is making her move into the blood trade.”
Jesse frowns. “And this is a concern why? It’s about time that woman start doing some honest work instead of chasing after this crime lord persona. Word is Mona Ward is out of play. If Lillian Castle goes straight, maybe fewer of our kind will get caught up in that dark lifestyle.”
I can’t help a surge of pride at Jesse’s words. He’s always seemed like a benevolent presence, and it’s good to hear a few of the thoughts he tends to keep so close to his vest.
“It would be great if Lillian were getting into the business legally,” Calder agrees. “But we’ve got reason to believe she won’t be dealing in sanctioned blood.”
Jesse’s eyes shift from side to side as he tries to connect the dots we’ve lined out for him. “Do you think her people will start killing to get it?”
“No,” I say. “We think she’ll be dealing in supernatural blood.”
Jesse’s eyes widen and his mouth pops open in a perfectly round O. “You can’t be serious.”
Calder blows out a breath as his hand slips around his condensation-slicked pint glass. “I guess it’s safe to say this is the first you’ve heard about this.”
“You’re damn right it is,” Jesse says, sounding inexplicably offended. “It was well before either of your times, but I was there when the secrecy laws were being written. There are good reasons why it’s illegal to sell supernatural blood. There are some who engage in mutual blood play with other supernaturals and—” He holds up both his hands, palms parallel to the floor. “—to each his own. But if there are scores of vampires taking magical blood, it won’t be long before they get it in their head they’re too powerful to be policed by the likes of the elders’ council. Some of the young ones don’t understand how very careful we have to be. One wrong move and we’ll go from characters in scary stories noms tell one another for fun to feared and reviled freaks of nature, rounded up and tested on. Or—worse—exterminated.”
I’ve never heard so many words from Jesse at one time. I always assumed since he catered to vampires and daemons who might not be on the right side of the law, he was largely neutral when it came to most things. Hearing the passion in his voice now sends a chill down my spine.
But it also fills me with a sinking sense of defeat. Vampires have long memories. Jesse’s stances are probably well-known in their community, which means there’s no way anyone is going to give him details about Lillian’s master plan.
“Thanks for your time, Jesse,” I murmur.
He nods. “Any time, Silas.” His eyes flicker to Calder one last time. “Don’t be a stranger.”
As Jesse makes his way toward the kitchen again, I slip off my chair. “That was a waste.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing. Just because no one tells a guy like Jesse something doesn’t mean he doesn’t know it. Bartenders hear everything. If he hasn’t overheard anyone talking about it, maybe we’ve got it wrong.” Calder tilts his head. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the car.” I lift my chin. “Why are you still sitting there?”
He lifts the pint glass in his hand. “I haven’t finished my drink yet. And neither have you.”
I open my mouth to argue. If Jesse doesn’t know anything, we need to chase down another lead. We don’t know if Bryn, Poe, and Taj learned anything useful from Valor. The full moon is tomorrow. If Lillian is planning something big, when better to unveil it than right after she absorbs her fourth and final magical affinity? She’s always had a flair for the dramatic. Pairing an announcement with the unveiling of her new power over earth magic sounds exactly like something she would do. Not that she’ll actually take on Bryn’s magic since Elowen broke the curse. But Lillian won’t know that until the time comes for her to take on the power and it doesn’t manifest.
But before any of the words come out, I sto
p myself. While I know better than to think ignoring these troubles will make them go away, rushing to the next thing doesn’t guarantee anything either.
So I reclaim my seat and lift my whiskey—two fingers today; the perfect amount, as usual. Calder clinks his glass against mine and we both take a drink.
And just like that, for the first time since I walked in here today, this place feels like home again. But for once it’s not because of the familiarity of my surroundings or the knowledge that Jesse will know my order before I do; it’s home because of who I’m here with. Calder. My friend. Home isn’t just a place, it’s the people you’re with. And for the first time in years, I’ve found my people.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bryn
Nothing. We’ve got absolutely nothing.
The fact has been spinning on a continuous loop through my mind for the last few hours since Silas and Calder returned to Twin Rivers after following up on their lead. Until then, I was holding out hope that we would have something to go on, but we’re no further along than we were this morning when Ryder told us about Lillian’s latest move.
All we can do is wait for Lillian to strike again, and if there’s anything in the world I hate doing, it’s waiting around helplessly. I did enough of that when Mona held me captive.
For their part, the guys are doing everything they can to distract me. While we waited for Silas and Calder to return, Poe and Taj took me to a few stores downtown, insisting I pick out a few outfits beyond the clothes I escaped in and the two outfits Sophie so graciously packed for me before we went looking for Elowen. Although I’ve been making do—washing clothes in the sink and hanging them to dry when I can—I can’t deny the appeal of having some clothes that are mine.
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