by Cate Corvin
I shrugged and looked down into the dark dregs of my wine. For some reason, I didn’t mind Adrian’s oblique prying into my business. Maybe because he looked like he’d seen some shit, too. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“No. Being hunted down by the covens must’ve been worse.”
When I glanced up at him again, there wasn’t the slightest hint of mockery in his face. He seemed genuinely empathetic, even if that emotion was hidden behind a wall. Something about the conversation was starting to put me on my guard, though. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“How far did you go on your own?” There it was. The slightest tension came into his voice, like this was the real answer he was eager to hear. How far into Death had I gone on my own, without anyone watching me to see if I broke the rules?
I sipped my wine for time, eyeing his sharp-angled face. I couldn’t trust Adrian Wolfe as far as I could throw him, but there were two things I had in common with this stranger that I had with no one else: we were both mirrorwalkers, from very old, respected covens. And we were both- or had been- social pariahs.
Even if he told anyone, they’d be just as likely to disbelieve him.
“The second level.” My hands trembled a little, the wine left in my glass shivering. “I didn’t go on my own, though. I was brought there.”
“Did you lose yourself?”
The glass chimed when I set it on the edge of the balcony. “I wasn’t down there long enough to let it happen. What does it matter to you?”
It was Adrian’s turn to shrug. Even without looking at him, I felt him watching me. “You’ve never wondered why we mirrorwalkers have these rules?”
A smile curled my lips, which were a little numb from the influence of witch-wine. “Ah, I see. You’re trying to convince me to go over to the dark side, which is either… oh, suicidal or illegal, maybe both.” But my curiosity had flared up like a neon light inside my mind; had he gone further into Death? Maybe even past the second level? Possibly even outside?
That was crazy talk. Nobody did that sort of thing without dying.
“You’re no more afraid of the Tribunal than I am.” He cocked an eyebrow again, the sardonic expression natural on his features. “Illegalities aside, who’s going to tell you no?”
“You’re a very, very bad influence, Adrian Wolfe,” I said quietly, meeting those indigo eyes. “I have no idea how you talked Joss into playing around with blood-magic, but you’ve got nothing on me. I’m not stupid enough to break rules just to be a rebel. If you want to die in a horrible way just so you can stick it to the man, that’s your prerogative. I won’t run my mouth about it. But I’m not joining you in a death-wish.”
His smile was back. “I like you, Morena Bell.”
My snort was unattractive, but now that I knew what Adrian was really here for, I wasn’t going to put on a polite mask for him anymore. “Sure you don’t just like what I can do for your coven’s bank account?”
“I’m quite sure.” He leaned in close, taking my hand. Tingles rippled down my arm when he performed the same old-fashioned gesture of kissing my knuckles, never breaking eye contact. The man was a strange anachronism of a human being. “Dance with me?”
I considered him. The moonlight painted his blond hair silver, bright against his black clothes. He was Joss’s antithesis with those ethereal features… king of the underworld, indeed. He could’ve been a spirit himself. The edge of his sleeve had pulled up, exposing an inch of the knotted scar that had blood-bound them.
I wondered what the binding was for, but like Joss and Eric, his hand somehow felt perfectly natural against mine… or maybe that was the witch-wine talking. “Once, Hades.”
He led me back to the doors and pushed them open. Music spilled out past the sound-deadening charms. Most of Blacksea’s guests were well and truly fucked up now, and no one batted an eye as Adrian pulled me into the crowd.
His fingers tightened around mine as I followed him, a prince of darkness leading me back into the maze of black and white.
I allowed my mental wards to pull back as his skin warmed to mine, the taste of night-blooming flowers mixing with the pomegranate, and his peppery, masculine scent filled my nose.
Dancing with him felt like walking on clouds, spinning through thin air as he held me. My partner held me as light as a feather in his arms, searching my eyes. I fell into indigo, the deep sea, the shade where all potentialities converged and shattered again into endless possibilities.
Growing whispers became a background to the music as I drew closer to Adrian. Dancing with him felt like vanishing into a different world, but I became aware that other witches and warlocks were around us, the entire ballroom still full to the brim with people. I even caught a glimpse of Melinda, staring at us in outright amazed horror. Served her right.
Adrian touched my chin, tipping my head up as he leaned in close enough to kiss me.
“Persephone,” he said softly, so quietly no one else could have heard it. Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Meet me in the Underworld.”
He disappeared, leaving me breathless and flushed as the world sparkled and the possibilities collided into one path.
17
“Goodness. You wasted no time in getting your hooks in the most available bachelor.”
A feminine voice with an affected Transatlantic accent cut through my reverie. I held back a groan as I turned to face Melinda Thorne, a retort on my lips… but the party’s host was at her side.
Edgar Black was a small, shriveled man, but cruel lines were cut deep in his face. He hadn’t lived to over a hundred years old as a covenmaster without being a cold motherfucker.
“It’s so pleasant to see you back among your kind, Mistress Bell. I hope you’re enjoying the celebrations?” His voice was just as papery as his skin, and it was hard to concentrate on his words. Everything still glittered around me, the scent of pomegranate and pepper still strong in my nose, Adrian’s warm hands at my waist…
“Oh, it’s wonderful.” I gave him the wide, beauty-pageant grin Mom had taught me to use from a young age. “I can’t believe how much I’ve missed out on. Good thing I’ll be reforming Bellhallow.”
Looking into Adrian Wolfe’s eyes was like staring into the deep ocean at dusk, secrets lurking beneath the waves… but what had he done? The question was burning in my mind. Even if I rationally knew that breaking the rules of mirrorwalking was the worst thing I could ever do, damn if I wasn’t curious.
“So, you are reforming?” Melinda demanded. Her butter-blonde hair was piled on top of her head and glittering with diamonds. “Morena, your mother and I were very close friends She’d be horrified to find her only daughter taking up with the likes of Wolfe… there are very disturbing rumors surrounding that young man. Let me help you back into the Circle, dear.”
Friends, my ass. Melinda only cared about what benefited her.
In truth, I wanted to ditch the party and find out what Adrian meant by meeting him in the Underworld. I didn’t think I had much in common with Persephone- nor would I ever have the balls to compare myself to one of our ancient deities- but the allegory had been made clear to me. He was searching for someone like him. Someone who was so unafraid of Death that they were willing to toss all their training aside to try something new and forbidden.
Edgar Black’s beady eyes were on me. I had to save myself unless I wanted him bringing out the adoption paperwork when I was too drunk on witch-wine to think clearly. “Please don’t put yourself out for me, Covenmistress. Have you seen Joss around, by chance?”
Magic words. Her eyes, the same cornflower blue as her son’s, lit up. “He’s discussing the coven boundaries agreement with Starlake, right over there.” She pointed over my head and spun me around, shooing me in the direction of her most eligible son.
I waved to Edgar and gave him a thumbs-up as she hustled me away. “Great party, sir, keep up the good work.”
His face soured. Excellent. Now he’d be strongly rec
onsidering any idea of adoption.
I found Joss chatting with Tristan Vega, his blue eyes knowing as he looked me over. I stole him from the Starlake warlock and pulled him aside, scanning the room, but Adrian’s silvery head of hair had vanished entirely. “You knew he’d be here, didn’t you?”
“Of course.” He held up the scarred wrist. “Felt him through this.”
That was an interesting tidbit. So they felt each other’s proximity through the bond… but that couldn’t be all it was meant for.
It was only when I saw Vivienne Wolfe, her wizened lips stretched in a smile, that my roving gaze halted.
The witch had known her grandson was here, too. I would’ve bet money that she also knew that Joss wasn’t officially my betrothed. She’d told Melinda that Adrian would lure me from Joss’s side, knowing it would undermine the seeming façade of strength it presented for the Thornes.
I wonder if she knew that the two warlocks were blood-brothers, and in on this together.
But now everybody as good as knew I was a free market for handfasting. That was convenient, in one way, though it would be obnoxious to field a thousand business proposals.
I nodded to Vivienne as she whispered to the black-clad specter of her servitor, still smiling. They looked like the cat had gotten the canary. Perhaps I’d made more of a spectacle of myself than necessary with Adrian.
After years in the world of humans, I’d completely forgotten how old-school some of the coven social mores were. It was a pain in the ass.
Tristan and Camille spun in a slow circle with the music, hovering nearly a foot off the floor. Even Sophia was dancing, a smile on her face, arms looped around the neck of a young man with braided black hair… and Warden Stone winked at me while spinning a blonde witch around. Ugh, screw that guy.
The eyes that fell on me now were more curious, weighing the pros and cons. The more the witch-wine wore off, the more I found myself wondering exactly what those disturbing rumors about Adrian were.
After passing a group of witches whispering to each other, their eyes on me, I was done. A few hours of being back among my own kind was more than enough. Eric would’ve told me not to push it.
“I need to get home, Joss.” I pulled him aside, rising on my toes to kiss his cheek. I wouldn’t do more than that, not here.
“Am I invited, or…?” He turned his head, catching my lips in a kiss, clearly uncaring of what anyone here thought. As weak as my knees went, my heart fluttering, I knew Melinda was somewhere in this room silently fist-punching the air.
Besides, I didn’t want Joss to see my apartment. “I need to call Eric and make sure Cecily’s okay. When I left, she was still a little… off. Coffee date tomorrow?”
He gave me a little smile. “You just don’t want me to see your apartment.”
“Guilty as charged.” How the hell did he do that? I was an open book for him.
Joss kissed me again and walked me down the hall. “Coffee date for sure, but I’m walking you home.”
Stone was standing next to the door, still looking ten shades of gorgeous… and holding another scroll. I had no idea how he’d beaten me to the exit when he’d been dancing thirty seconds ago. “Here’s your follow-up notice, Bell.”
“You really feel like you need to do this here?” The cheerful, drunken hum in my veins made it hard to be entirely annoyed with him. Guy was just trying to do his job, right?
Until a puff of air carried the scroll to my hand with a flick of his finger. I looked down at it and tossed it back.
This time it wasn’t a puff but a breeze. The scroll zipped back into my hand. “I’ve already read it, thanks.”
Joss gave Stone a look. “Really? Come on.”
“Just doing my duties, Lord Thorne.” A tinge of actual respect came into Stone’s voice when he addressed Joss. What a wanker. “I’m saving you from dating a felon. You should thank me.”
“Let’s just go,” I muttered.
I wrapped my arm around Joss’s waist, appreciating the flex of solid muscle under my palm. He opened the door and we stepped back into the deep night of Ashville, traversing three hundred miles in a second. I tossed the scroll back in.
Right before the runestone-keyed doorway closed, it zoomed back out, hitting me in the ass as I was walking away. “Gah!” I grabbed the scroll and handed it to Joss. “Do something about this, please.”
He held the scroll in his palm and a tongue of flame ate it away to black ash. “You still have the first one, right?”
“Eric does. I just don’t want to give Stone the satisfaction. I’m taking care of the statute, but I’m not paying Grimmcliff, that’s one thing I’ll stand by. Why, are you worried about dating a felon?”
“Nah, I think it’s kinda hot,” he said, pulling me closer. “I’ll be Clyde, if you’re Bonnie. We’ll steal all the petitions.”
The cool air cleared my head as we walked, and the wake-up potion was still in full effect, which meant I was going to be sitting and staring at my phone for hours after I texted Eric, desperately waiting for a message back. “Thanks for convincing me to go. I guess jumping feet-first into the shark tank was probably the best way to handle it… but I’ve got serious questions about Adrian. Questions and reservations.”
Joss wrapped a curl around his finger. “You seemed to be getting along with him perfectly fine… better than fine.”
“Yeah, but a package deal? You’re my closest friend, Joss. I know you. I don’t know anything about this guy except rumors that he’s bad news.”
“He’s tired of being exceptional all by himself. Luckily for him, my best friend happens to be an exceptional witch.”
I laughed, the sound cutting through the quiet night. “Yeah, you’re really selling him to me. This is all crazy, you know that? You’ve got a lot to explain. Sharing a girlfriend… ridiculous.”
Joss stopped me in front of my apartment stairs. “Don’t knock it before you try it,” he purred, pulling me in close enough that I felt his lips moving against mine. “If you’re into him, it’s game on. It’ll be just like show and tell, with more showing instead of telling.”
His tongue slipped between my lips, forcing me to open for him. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Is that a proposition?” I gasped when he finally broke away.
“Dream on it,” Joss said, examining my face like he was trying to memorize me. “Call me for our coffee date, Mor. I’m going to drag Mother home before she ends up with another twenty-year-old boyfriend.”
I made a face, kissing him one last time for good measure. He activated the runestone and vanished.
I was entirely too cheerful as I walked up the stairs, dismantling the wards with a brush of my fingers like cobwebs. Tomorrow was a new day, and I’d think about getting out of this apartment
The smell of my perfume still lingered in the air, and I shed my needle-point heels as I grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it without preamble. The witch-wine would be fizzing in my veins for another few hours, and though it was gentler than human alcohol, a hangover was ever-so-slightly possible. I didn’t want the tiniest headache for what a date with Joss -and Adrian- might entail.
I stretched my bare feet as I grabbed my cell phone, which I’d left lying forgotten on my bed next to my sickle and the credit card.
A cold stone dropped in my gut as the screen flickered to life, the display scrolling past multiple messages and missed calls. I dropped the empty water bottle from numb fingers, the water threatening to rise again in my stomach.
Ten missed phone calls. A slew of messages, all from Eric.
I’m sorry, Mor. Call me back ASAP. I found something in the book.
Seriously, I know you’re angry but you need to answer. This is important.
Morena. Please answer. Please pick up.
Something is wrong with Cecily. Need help.
she’s here
I exhaled on a sob, my hands shaking as I picked up my sickle, the phone falling from my hands. I shov
ed my feet in my boots, barely hearing the silk of my dress rip as I moved too quickly.
Once again, I had let down those who depended on me. My fault, my fault, my fault.
I slung the belt of salt and nails around my waist. It likely wouldn’t help me here. I picked up the phone, redialing Eric’s number and getting nothing but the answering recording.
My fault.
If anything happened to him, I wouldn’t be able to keep living. The burden of guilt would crush me under its weight. I threw the phone on the bed as a smell reached me, a scent as lush and vivid as my perfume.
Roses.
The smell of petals ripe with dew, crushed between indelicate fingers, clenched in a fist and left to brown and rot in the sun, the vines drying as they scorched to death…
The heavenly scent became terrible, the sour rotting-vegetation smell of death, baking beneath an uncaring sun. My head whipped towards the mirror, the ring of carved wooden roses glinting in the light. The glass had fogged over once more, and I was sure that the mist was on the other side.
Someone had written a message to me with one finger, in a dainty script: He’s Mine.
My lip curled back over my teeth in a silent snarl. The bitch was wrong about one thing, and it was the only thing that mattered.
He was mine, and I was going to fuck up her whole sorry world for touching him.
I sprinted down the sidewalk in the dark, my sickle thumping against my back with every step. The night air tore in and out of my lungs as I flashed past a hapless mortal, who watched a crazy woman in a silk dress and sickle run past with his mouth hanging open.
Panic thrummed in my veins alongside the dregs of the witch-wine, spurring me even faster. The copper taste of panic filled my throat. I wasn’t too late. I couldn’t be too late.
Eric’s house was only a ten-minute drive away, but the distance by foot seemed to stretch into infinity, the few miles mocking me even as I ate them up.
The pale specter of a gaunt woman watched me as I hurtled past, her white fingers closed around a chain-link fence. The spirit of a hungry man, swaddled in rags, watched me from the gutter with rheumy eyes. All around me, the spirits were coming out to watch, the monotony of death broken by the rippling in my magic. Something had called to them.