by Linsey Hall
Potions & Pastilles turned into a bar in the evenings, and the FireSouls often came here to unwind. I’d like to pop over to say hey, but there was no time.
Actually…
“I’ll meet you at the counter, okay?” I said to Lachlan. “You can brief Connor.”
“Aye, all right.”
He strode off as I stepped toward the FireSouls, gingerly digging into my pocket for the plastic baggie that contained the gelatinous potion.
“Long time no see.” Nix tucked her dark hair behind her ear, her green eyes glowing.
“Gee, what’s it been?” I grinned. “Three days?”
“Too long.” Del scratched Pond Flower’s head.
“What have you got there?” Cass nodded toward the baggie, her red hair glinting in the light.
“A potion we’re trying to track. We thought Connor could maybe identify it, but could you give it a look too? See if you can sense where the owner might be?” FireSouls were capable of finding just about anything, as long as it wasn’t blocked by a spell and they had a bit of information to spark their dragon sense.
“Got any info about it?” Nix hovered her hand out, ready to touch the bag.
“Nothing, unfortunately. Just that we found it in the Protectorate.” Since those details weren’t about the potion, it wouldn’t help them. And even though I trusted them, it wasn’t my place to tell them about the cavern under the Protectorate castle. That was Jude’s domain, and I didn’t need to step on it.
Nix blew out a sigh and took the bag, her face scrunched up. “I get nothing.”
Cass took the bag from her and tried. “Nothing.”
Del gave it her best shot last, but she just shook her head. “Sorry, pal. As far as I can tell, it’s just some slime in a bag. We’d need a bit more to go on.”
“Thanks though.” I smiled to cover my disappointment. “Hopefully the potion master will have an idea.”
“He’s the best there is.” Cass raised her can of PBR, the cheap beer that she adored. “And he’s great at popping the top on a beer, too.”
“So multi-talented.” I grinned, but she was right. Connor really was the best. “I’ll see you guys later.”
I turned and headed toward the counter, picking up on the sound of some old country playing over the speakers. Connor always chose the music for the shop, and often wore the band T-shirts to match his selection. Today, he wore a Lyle Lovett shirt.
I passed by a few college kids playing a game of checkers while drinking a golden liquid that looked expensive—how they afforded it, I had now idea—then passed an old man filling out a crossword puzzle while drinking a pink cocktail that steamed with a glittery smoke.
Connor grinned at me as I approached. “My favorite rescuer.”
“Why thank you.” I bowed. We’d really bonded while escaping the fortress-like winery in Tuscany last week. “Did Lachlan explain what we needed?”
“He did. I can give it a look now.” He leaned back and shouted over his shoulder, clearly talking to someone behind the swinging door that led to the kitchen. “Sis? Can you take over?”
A moment later, Claire stepped through, her dark hair gleaming. She was wearing black leather from head to toe, and a sword was sheathed over her back. “I was just about to head out on a job.”
In addition to helping out part-time at P & P, Claire was a mercenary. She killed demons most of the time, but every now and again, she’d be here.
“Just for a sec,” Connor said, his British accent still thick despite the ten years he’d spent in America. “It’s important.”
“All right.” Her gaze moved between me and Lachlan. “I can only assume it’s a matter of life and death, if it’s you two.”
“Fair assumption.” I glanced at Lachlan. That did seem to be the thing that brought us together. I didn’t mind. My life had always been full of super dangerous situations, so adding in the company of a hot dude…
It wasn’t the worst.
Even if I wasn’t supposed to do anything more than look at him.
“Go on, then. I’ve got the counter.” Claire took the apron from Connor, who led us back through the kitchen.
I followed him and Lachlan through the narrow space, toward the little workshop at the very back. It was cluttered full of ingredients and vials and small cauldrons.
“Welcome to my domain.” Connor spread his arms out wide.
“I like it.” I’d never had the skill for potions—or the opportunity to practice, really—but I’d always loved the mad-scientist-looking lairs that most potion masters seemed to keep.
Lachlan and Connor hovered over the table, getting to work with a little cauldron, some flame, and a variety of bottles of colored liquid. I hung out near the back, watching as they tested various samples. Colorful plumes of smoke burst toward the ceiling, while the air filled with various scents—some nice, some definitely not nice.
I tapped my foot, anxious for a result.
“Getting impatient?” Lachlan asked without turning around.
“Um. No.” Lachlan chuckled as if he could hear the lie. “Any luck though?”
“Maybe.”
I waited a few more tense moments, until finally, Connor fist pumped the air. “Got it!”
“What is it?”
He turned, his eyes bright. Excitement gleamed within, but behind it was worry. “It’s a Sylthian potion. They’re really rare.”
Lachlan turned. There was no excitement in his eyes, just worry. “Only a few people are strong enough to make it, and there are only a couple who are selling it. I have a guess on who made this, though.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Torlock the Dark,” Connor said.
I frowned. “Where’s he live?”
“She.” Connor shook his head. “And I don’t know. I can ask around, but she’s famous for being hard to get to.”
“Then how do people buy her stuff?”
“They have to really want it,” Lachlan said. “And it’s so expensive that she doesn’t need to sell a lot of it.”
“What did that potion do?”
“It destroys a person’s soul. They disappear forever. Just…poof,” Connor said. “And there’s no antidote, obviously.”
A shiver of ice raced through me. “Holy fates. I carried that in my pocket?”
“It became neutralized once it sat on the ground for a few seconds. It’s only good as soon as it smashes into a person.”
My shoulders sagged. Thank fates. And that was good for Caro, Ali, and Haris too. If the potion was still active, I’d have had to warn them, and then Jude would know what I was up to.
“So someone must have dropped the potion bomb as they were running away from the cavern,” I said.
Lachlan nodded. “Aye. Thieving cowards.”
“We’ll catch them.” I frowned. “We just need to figure out where Torlock the Dark is. What kind of name is that anyway?”
“Mega melodramatic,” Connor said.
I glanced at the ornate old clock hanging on the wall. It was getting late. “I’m going to need to be at class soon. But we have to find Torlock.”
Indecision tore at me. I couldn’t skip class—Jude would kill me. The Protectorate was like a magical version of the FBI or Scotland Yard or whatever human crime fighting organization was the best. I had no idea. But I did know that rules were important, and Jude had looked me in the eye and asked if I’d be in class.
I’d said yes, and I wanted to live up to my promise.
But I also wanted to solve this damned crime.
“I have some contacts I can ask about Torlock,” Lachlan said. “You go to class, and I’ll do that.”
“And I’ll make some cocktails.” Connor grinned. “Good luck, because I think you’re going to need it.”
4
As usual, I was getting my ass kicked in class. I’d managed a couple hours of sleep before it started, but it clearly hadn’t been enough to prepare me for what was to come.
>
Not that I did much better when I was fully rested.
Today, I lay on my back, head spinning as I stared up at the enormous rafters overhead. Tweety birds flew in circles in the air above me.
I blinked.
Okay, that was my imagination.
Pain flared as I tried to stand. Lavender had really hit me with a big one. She was a telekinetic, and we were skirmishing. Unfortunately, she’d chosen to throw a huge wooden bench at me at the exact same time my shield magic faltered.
My core magical skill was really giving me hell these days, flickering in and out like an old lightbulb. It meant my Dragon God powers were coming to the surface— Maybe.
Aching, I dragged myself to my feet. On either side of me, two other pairs of students faced off.
But I only had eyes for Lavender.
Her dark hair gleamed in the light as she snickered at me. “I thought you were supposed to be someone special?”
I just scowled at her and tried to call on the magic inside me, begging my Dragon God side to come up with a new power. According to Bree, when she’d gone through the transition, new magic had just appeared out of the blue whenever she needed it. Times of strife called on gifts that could help. The Norse gods had heard her in her hour of need and delivered.
Whoever my gods were…they were clearly on lunch break.
All I had was a shoddy power of premonition and possibly some kind of light power that did…light. Honestly, I barely knew how to describe it, just that it had once appeared and driven off sickness wraiths.
“You really shouldn’t be here,” Lavender said under her breath, purple eyes glittering with pure donkey meanness.
“Matching your contacts to your name is a bit much, don’t you think?” She was just a mean person, the type who liked to pick on the lowest one on the totem pole.
Unfortunately for me, that was my spot.
“You and your sisters shouldn’t be here. Bree is a freak, and Rowan is worthless. No magic at all.”
Hot tar seemed to fill my chest, spilling out at the mention of my sisters. It was fine if she wanted to be a bitch to me. But my sisters?
“Oh, no you don’t,” I said.
“What? You going to hit me with your practice sword?”
I growled at her. In skirmishes, I was allowed to use whatever I wanted to fight with. Since I had no offensive magic, that meant weapons. Unfortunately, Jude insisted on ones with no sharp edges.
“That’s what I thought,” Lavender said. “You’re just as worthless as your sister Rowan.”
Rage like I’d never known welled in my chest. It bubbled and boiled like a witch’s cauldron, flaring out of me in a burst of light so bright that it slammed Lavender off her feet, throwing her into the wall behind her.
I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. All the wind was knocked out of me, and I stood there, my mouth open like a gasping fish.
Stunned silence surrounded me.
Lavender was still on her back, and everyone rushed toward her. Hesitantly, I stepped closer.
Angus, Lavender’s friend, held up one hand, eyes flashing. “Don’t.”
I raised my palms. “All right.”
I squinted at Lavender. Did she have no hair?
Oh shit.
My light had blasted her hair away. And her clothes were singed, black and dotted with holes. What the hell kind of magic had I just thrown at her?
Jude rushed to Lavender’s side and dropped to her knees by the girl.
Is she okay?
I wanted to speak the words out loud, but it was super obvious that no one wanted to hear from me. Half the other students looked at Lavender, concern on their faces. The other half glared at me.
Jude looked up, then pointed a finger at me. “You and I need to talk. Later.”
I nodded. “Yep.”
Jude turned back to Lavender, who was trying to sit up, but failing.
A low meow caught my ear, and I turned.
Muffin sat in the doorway, his skinny, hairless body as dark as shadow. His green eyes gleamed, complementing the ruby in his tattered ear. Frazzled whiskers twitched. Behind him, Bojangles rolled by, chasing his orange tail.
Come on, failed hunter.
I glanced back at Jude and the rest of the group, torn. Did I stay here and wait for my talk? Or find out what Muffin wanted?
Since I didn’t like getting yelled at, it was an easy choice.
I hurried toward Muffin on silent feet, slipping from the training room. Lachlan waited out in the stone-walled hallway, a fluffy Princess Snowflake III draped over his shoulders.
“I have no idea how she got up here.” He pointed to the cat, bemused. “One second she was on the ground, then she was here.”
She rubbed her face against his, white fur sticking to the dark stubble on his cheeks.
“Hey, Princess,” I said.
She turned to me, blue eyes glinting, and hissed.
“I love you, too.” I grinned. “Don’t forget that dead mouse painting you made me. Maybe you did it in a moment of weakness, but I know you like me.”
“Dead mouse painting?” Lachlan asked.
“Yeah, I’ll show you sometime.” I looked back at the door. “Let’s get out of here. Did you find Torlock?”
If he had, and we could get a good clue, I could bring that to Jude. Maybe it would smooth over the hair-loss incident with Lavender. Not that Lavender would ever forgive me—that was a lost cause. But I needed to get on Jude’s good side.
“Yes, I found her. She’s hiding in a realm of shadows and mystery.”
“Of course she is. What’s it like?”
“It’s a place that takes myths and fairy tales and twists them.”
I frowned. “Is there a difference?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s going to be dangerous. You need contacts and an invitation to find her. We have neither.”
“But we have our wits.”
He smiled at me. “That we do. And also some moderately reliable directions.”
“Moderately reliable? I can deal with that.” Then I frowned. Caro, Ali, and Haris were on the trail of this too. If we were hunting something as big as this, shouldn’t I give them a heads-up? We’d lose our lead—and I really wanted to be the one to bring this info—but this was bigger than me. Anyway, working as a team had helped us save Connor last week. It was always the smart way to go. “I think we should give the others a heads-up.”
“Agreed. Are they here?”
“Maybe.” I touched the comms charm at my throat. “Rowan? You here?”
Bree was off hunting that demon in Ireland, but Rowan should still be here. I’d called her when I’d gotten back earlier this morning, just to make sure she wasn’t on lockdown.
“Hey! Yeah, I’m in the kitchen with Hans and some other folks.”
“Caro, Ali, or Haris part of that gang?”
“You’re in luck. They stopped by real quick to pick up sandwiches to go from Hans. They’re on the hunt for a clue.”
“Good. We’ll be there in a sec. I want to talk to them.”
“I’ll tell them to hang on.”
Lachlan and I hurried through the hallway, heading toward Hans’s kitchen on the bottom floor of the castle. Princess Snowflake III rode on his shoulders the whole way, and though he looked slightly uncomfortable and weirded out, he didn’t boot her off.
It was a smart decision, since she might claw his eyes out. Muffin stalked alongside, while Bojangles rolled like a tumbleweed, chasing his tail.
“How does he not turn his brain to mush, doing that all the time?” I asked.
“Meow,” Muffin said. You’ve seen his eyes, right?
“True.” The little orange cat was so cross-eyed I was surprised he could walk straight.
We entered the main entryway and took the stairs down to the kitchen.
Hans took one look at us and shouted, “Juice!”
I caught the juice box that he hurled at me, and Lachlan did the
same.
“Do I look that bad, Hans?” For whatever reason, the head cook at the castle was convinced that juice solved all ills.
Hans shrugged, mustache quivering. “You could always use juice.”
I stuck the straw into the little box. “Thanks.”
He nodded. Boris sat on top of his chef’s hat, the little brown rat snacking on a piece of cheese. He eyed Princess Snowflake III, but didn’t so much as twitch a whisker. Boris was a tough rat.
Caro, Ali, and Haris stood near the table, each with a brown paper sack in hand. Rowan sat with a big bowl of soup.
“Thanks for not turning my sister in,” I said to them. Rowan had briefed me this morning, saying that Caro, Ali, and Haris had kept her appearance in the caverns a secret from Jude.
“No problem.” Caro’s platinum hair gleamed in the light, complementing her silver jacket and gray jeans. “But we can’t do it often. Jude would kill us.”
“Made a judgment call, though,” Ali said, flashing a quick smile. “Rowan’s good people.”
She grinned. “Thanks, Ali.”
“Why’d you want to see us?” Haris asked.
“I’m hunting for the same thing you are,” I said.
“An extracurricular activity?” Caro grinned.
“Pretty much. But I didn’t want to keep any info I found a secret, since I want to find Arach’s magic.”
“More than you want credit, you mean.” Ali bit into an apple, his white teeth gleaming.
“Credit won’t do me much good if we lose our friends and the Protectorate loses its magic.”
“True.” Caro nodded. “So spill.”
I told her about the potion and Torlock, along with our plan to hunt her.
Caro nodded, clever eyes keen. “Good, I like the direction you’re going. We’re headed a similar way, but we’re after another potion maker.”
“Melevakan?” Lachlan asked.
“The very same,” Haris said.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“The only other potion maker besides Torlock who could make the Sylthian Potion. We were going to find him if it didn’t pan out with Torlock.”
“We’ll take care of Melevakan,” Caro said. “You try Torlock. One of us will be right.” Her gaze turned to me. “But don’t tell Jude what you’re doing. I think it’s great, but she’ll be uber mad.”