Sodden and shivering, Kandy and I were intercepted by Gran two feet inside her granite-tiled entranceway.
“Basement bathroom.” Gran pointed sternly back through the still-open door behind us.
“Gran,” I whined.
“I’ll bring you extra towels. Did you find the elves?”
“One. And she pretty much found us. Then got away.”
“That last part was my fault,” Kandy said.
Gran harrumphed, then actually tapped her foot while eyeing the puddles forming beneath us. “Go. I’ll bring you something to wear. You can put everything through the wash.”
Grumbling, I hightailed it back out of the house. Crossing along the path toward the garage entrance, I jogged past Gran’s car, then through the basement door. Kandy chortled quietly behind me the entire way.
“Yeah, hilarious, wolf,” I said peevishly. “This skirt is dry-clean only.”
Kandy snorted. “You haven’t used a dry cleaner in years.”
Gran flicked on the lights in the hallway that bisected the lowest level of the house. She was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, her arms full of the most beautiful, puffy, and hopefully absorbent towels in the world.
Kandy picked up her pace, grabbing the top two towels from the stack in Gran’s arms. “Dibs on the shower!” She pressed a kiss to my grandmother’s cheek, then took off down the hall toward the bathroom just off the laundry room.
I sighed, taking a towel from Gran and halfheartedly drying my hair.
Gran smiled at me, briefly touching my cheek. “We’ll figure out how to deal with the elves. Jasmine and I have already discussed a few options with the grid.”
My stomach sank slightly. I seriously hoped that those ‘options’ didn’t include trying to tie me to the witches’ grid again. That wasn’t an argument I wanted to rekindle. “Oh?”
Gran laughed quietly. “Come. I’ll get you those clothes.”
I expected her to head back up the stairs. But instead, she headed down the hall. Halfway along, I paused at the door to the map room, glancing in to see Jasmine sitting in the center of the floor, meditating. I could understand her urge to do so. The power literally etched into the walls in black paint was awe-inspiring.
“Jade?”
I glanced down the hall. Gran was standing in the door to her storage room, holding a large box.
“You should be able to find something in here.”
I closed the space between us, and Gran pressed the box into my arms. Then she immediately began hustling back down the hall toward the stairs. “I’ll put on the kettle.”
I glanced down at the box. It was unlabeled. I set it down at my feet, then tore off the strip of tape that held the flaps closed.
Various items of clothing — jeans, T-shirts, socks, underwear — were neatly folded within. I picked up a hand-knit sweater, catching the scent of the lavender laundry soap that Gran favored. She had knitted the black cardigan years before, adding a touch of red in a geometric motif reminiscent of runes around each wrist, just above the ribbed cuff.
It had been a Christmas gift.
For Sienna.
Hot tears spiked at the edges of my eyes.
Gran had kept Sienna’s clothes. Or at least some of them. It was an uncharacteristic display of sentimentality, especially given that she never discussed her former foster daughter. Not a word about the twelve years she’d spent raising her. Or her descent into darkness.
I had long wondered whether Sienna might have been another item on the list of things that Scarlett held against Gran. Because if Pearl hadn’t always insisted on underestimating people, my foster sister might have practiced and grown into her magic safely. In fact, Gran having decided to mentor Burgundy seemed to indicate that that difficult lesson might have actually had an impact on my grandmother. Burgundy was only a quarter-witch by blood, with a talent for healing spells and charms. The sort of Adept that Pearl would once have disdainfully all but ignored.
Kandy padded around the corner, wearing only a towel. Of course, a bath towel pretty much covered the slim werewolf from armpits to knees, and even wrapped around her twice. “Your turn, dowser. Clothing?”
I cleared my throat, straightening. “Yeah.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Gran’s making tea.”
Kandy hunkered down and started digging through the box. “I’ll debrief Pearl and baby girl while you shower. I tossed my wet clothes in the washer already.”
I nodded as I turned away. Then I stepped back and gently tugged the black cardigan out of Kandy’s hands.
The werewolf frowned playfully. “Not your color, dowser.”
“I know … it was Sienna’s …”
Kandy went stock-still. Then she stood up swiftly, pulling me in for a fierce hug. Only for a moment. And just as quickly, she let me go, digging through the box of clothing again.
And I went and took a hot shower, knowing that everything happened for a reason, no matter how much those reasons hurt my heart. Without Sienna going dark, I wouldn’t have Kandy or Kett. I likely wouldn’t have had Warner in my life.
I had swapped a sister for a family of magical misfits. And while most of us didn’t completely fit in with the specific Adept sects we were born into, together we had made Vancouver our home.
But it just … just …
It still hurt losing someone who’d held so much of my heart for such a long time.
Since Sienna’s clothes were often originally my clothes, I found a pair of light-blue jeans in the box that I could actually do up. Though I did have to lay back on Gran’s basement guest bed to get them zipped. But muscle weighed more than fat, right? And yeah, I’d just go on blithely ignoring what that logic had to do with getting jeans on.
The sweater didn’t fit, though. I couldn’t get the buttons done up over my chest, though I stupidly tried for way too long. So I tucked it back into the box when I put it away again on Gran’s tidily organized storage shelves.
Kandy opted for a blue hoodie and dark-gray leggings that were easily three times too large for her trim figure. Naturally, she totally pulled off the oversized look. She even managed to salvage her sneakers with a hairdryer.
I grabbed an old pair of well-worn, lace-up ankle boots that were a trifle tight even with thin socks. Leaving my pretty boots in the laundry sink, I offered up a whispered appeal. I didn’t like to make requests of Blossom, but maybe the brownie would take pity on me and condescend to work some magic on my boots. Otherwise, I was pretty certain they’d been completely ruined by my impromptu swim.
Kandy was waiting for me, hovering in the doorway to the map room. The former recreation room occupied over half of the house’s basement footprint. All four walls and the edges of the ceiling had been painted with a detailed map of Vancouver — drawn by Rochelle, then carefully painted over in black strokes.
Jasmine had pushed the only piece of furniture, a black swivel chair, over against one wall, choosing instead to sit on the light-gray-carpeted floor in a lotus position. Her computer was in her lap, and she’d set her iPad and iPhone by either knee. With her golden hair cascading from her reverently bowed head, she looked like she was actually communing with her technology, rather than meditating.
“Did the illusion at Kits Pool spike on the map?” I put the question to Kandy, knowing she would have already had this discussion with Jasmine and Gran.
“Yep,” she said. “But nothing since.”
“So when they actively use magic, it does show?”
Kandy shook her head. “Not necessarily. Volume appears to matter. Pearl wasn’t alerted to anything by whatever spell the telepathic elf laid on Jasmine.”
“And the tussle with Audrey?”
Kandy pointed toward the southeast wall. “Yep. But the bakery always glows.”
I scanned the map, pointing to a couple of other spots that were lit up. “That’s Scarlett’s house on West Fifth?”
Jasmine spoke without lifting her head from her computer. “The witches all raised their wards after the attack on Pearl. We didn’t know if there would be more attempts.”
I nodded. “And Rochelle and Beau in Southlands? Geez, those are some heavy-duty wards.”
“They’re permanent, like at the bakery and Pearl’s.” Kandy folded her arms, leaning back into the door frame. “Part of how the witches thought they could effectively tie Rochelle into the grid. And it obviously worked. Except not for picking up elf magic.”
“The spell on Jasmine might just have been subtle. Even intermittent. And hidden under her own magic.”
Kandy grunted an acknowledgement. Jasmine’s fingers continued to fly across her keyboard.
I really, really didn’t want to ask my next question. But I was wearing my dead sister’s jeans, and it was time to be a big girl. “Speaking of the oracle, any new sketches I should know about?”
Kandy shook her head. “Not yet. Not for us, at least.”
“But we know that she at least sees the elves,” I said.
Rochelle had presented me with a sketch three months before, hand delivered by Blossom. It depicted me holding what appeared to be a large gemstone in the palm of my hand. And though the illusionist elf had a similarly cut stone embedded in her forehead, the gem I had torn from the elf in the park after I killed him had been cracked and its magic destroyed by the death blow dealt by my knife. Conversely, the gemstone in the oracle sketch appeared to be pristine, with what I still assumed were tendrils of active magic attached to it, all rendered in charcoal.
I was fairly certain those differences indicated that I hadn’t fulfilled that particular prediction. Not yet. And I was under no illusion that I was actually capable of thwarting any future Rochelle saw for me. Down that road of thought lay madness. For me, at least.
Kandy was watching me. Assessing me. “Well … we know the oracle sees you.”
“You spike on the map,” Jasmine said.
“When? Just now at the pool?”
“Yep.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You didn’t pull your knife?” Kandy asked.
Yeah. I had pulled my knife.
Jasmine looked up from her computer, all her attention on the map. “The witch magic is blue tinted. See all of the witches’ wards? Different degrees of blue, maybe indicating individual power level? Darkest at Rochelle and Beau’s place. But yours is more golden. See the bakery? I’ve heard that some Adepts see colors that correspond to magic, though I’ve never been able to. But I guess that’s how the map interprets different magic … or … this was drawn by the oracle, yes? Maybe she sees magic in color, and that translated to the map when she drew it?”
I didn’t answer — because I actually didn’t know. The oracle sketched in black charcoal on white paper, so I had no idea if Rochelle did see magic in color, as I did. Instead, I eyed the bakery depicted on the wall before me. If it was glowing more golden than the other witch magic, it was a subtle difference — to me, at least. But then, I had never been able to see or taste my own magic terribly well, if at all.
Scanning the rest of the map, I pointed to a spot of magic a few blocks northeast of the bakery. “And that? The Talbots?”
Kandy uncrossed her arms, fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Those are the protections the witches put on the entrance to the treasure keeper’s prison. The Talbots are still in Whistler, and their house wards aren’t active. We’ve got two hours until dinner. We both need to change.”
“Let’s borrow Gran’s car. Assuming she doesn’t need it. I’d like to check on the prison.”
“The elves aren’t going back to anywhere that nullifies their magic.”
I shrugged. “I’d still like a look around.”
“Fine. It’s after full dark. Baby fang should be on duty.”
For the past three months, Kandy had been employing some of the fledgling Adepts who now called Vancouver home in regular patrol tasks. She had Burgundy checking the other twelve grid points, working around her school schedule. Bitsy the werewolf was learning the finer details of patrolling during evening training runs. And Benjamin Garrick was keeping an eye on Pulou’s prison and the Talbots’ house nearby — with strict orders to stay far away from any elves who might appear. Since Benjamin was rather protective of his newfound immortality, Kandy trusted him to follow those instructions to the letter.
“I’m going to stay here,” Jasmine said. “Dinner isn’t really my thing these days. And I’m trying to wrap my head around setting up a possible online interface with the map.”
Kandy glanced at me. “That youngest Talbot is into this tech stuff.”
I grimaced. “Tony.”
Jasmine perked up again. “A tech sorcerer? In town?”
“Not this weekend,” I said.
“Huh. Might be worth a chat,” Jasmine said thoughtfully. “He won’t be as good as me … I mean, as good as I was before … you know. But he might be helpful in setting up a command center, at least. Gathering and hardwiring tech and the like.”
“Whatever,” Kandy said, bored. “But you’re joining us for dancing, baby girl. Dancing with Jade is not to be missed, and the more magic on the dance floor, the better.”
Jasmine twisted her lips, but she didn’t answer.
“Maybe too much magic?” I whispered.
Kandy shrugged. “She’ll be the least powerful person there. Audrey and Lara have begged off. So we won’t have any repeats.”
“I can hear you,” Jasmine said crossly. Her fingers were glued to her keyboard again.
Kandy snorted a laugh.
“Begged off? Just from tonight, or from the wedding too?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Kandy said, unusually circumspect.
That didn’t bode well. I glanced over at Jasmine, but she appeared to be ignoring us again, actually muttering to herself under her breath now.
I stepped back into the hall, leaving the door open while I contemplated making an effort to repair the relationship with the pack, or at least texting Kett to give him a heads-up that the beta and her enforcer might have decided to take exception to his child. Of course, the executioner might not care. I could never really tell with him.
Kandy waved her hand in front of my face. Then once she got my attention, she gestured toward the stairs at the end of the hall. “After you, dowser.”
“Ah, are you being sweet?”
“Nah. But if those jeans split, I totally want to be standing behind you. In fact, maybe you should wear them dancing.”
Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but laugh. Despite her almost drowning, dealing with pissy werewolves, or worrying about elven power plays, I could always count on Kandy to lighten the mood.
Benjamin Garrick, along with the taste of his sour-grape-jelly-bean magic, wasn’t the only Adept within viewing distance of the hidden entrance to the treasure keeper’s prison. Apparently, Mory was hanging out there as well. After dark. With a fledgling vampire.
Lovely.
I caught the taste of the junior necromancer’s toasted-marshmallow magic from the top of the concrete stairs that led to the beach. I then spotted Mory perched on a large driftwood log, only a dozen feet away from the craggy shoreline and the witches’ wards. She was knitting, of course and always.
I glanced back at Kandy questioningly.
The green-haired werewolf shrugged, completely nonplussed about a vampire hanging out with a necromancer.
Even more lovely.
Apparently, Benjamin had worked up the nerve to say hello to Mory sometime over the last three months.
I jogged down the stairs with Kandy right behind me.
Mory was wearing the Cowichan-inspired knitted sweater that Kandy and I had bought her for her nineteenth birthday. It was intentionally two sizes too large for her petite frame. The bulky hat tugged down over her currently purple-streaked, bright-red hair matched the cowl tucked into the shawl collar of the sweater, as well as the wrist warmers under her cuffs.
Mory raised her head, eyeing me without pausing her knitting. At best guess, she was working on another hat, though with a slightly less bulky yarn. Plus, it was stranded, which meant she was knitting with multiple colors, each strand leading back to the satchel sitting beside her on the log.
Yeah, I had somehow picked up way too much information about knitting for a nonknitter. But Mory and I didn’t have a lot in common, so I tried to talk to her about things she was actually interested in. And, unfortunately, my witty repartee about chocolate, cupcakes, and getting into knife fights bored the hell out of the necromancer.
Benjamin appeared out of the shadows of the cliff side to my left as I stepped down into the sand from the stairs. Hands stuffed in his jean pockets and a scarf knotted around his neck were his only concessions to the chilly temperature — though I wasn’t sure he could feel the cold at all. The dark-haired vampire settled his satchel over his shoulder, offering Kandy and me a polite smile.
“The elves have been active tonight,” I said, deciding I would treat the vampire and the necromancer as equals, rather than freaking out that they were hanging out together. That seemed like the more mature way to go.
“Nearby?” Mory asked.
“At Gran’s. Then Kits Pool.”
“The pool?” Benjamin asked. “Do elves have a thing for water?”
“Not unless it’s purple,” I said.
Benjamin tugged a notebook and pen from his satchel, flipping the book open to a page that was already half covered in neat but cramped handwriting. With his movement, I picked up the taste of the torture device on his wrist — the necromancer working that kept his vampire nature in check, and which drove Kandy’s and my protective instincts into overdrive.
“So … nothing happening here.” For my benefit, Kandy pointedly turned the question into a statement, since she thought I was wasting our time.
“Ed is just heading back,” Mory said.
Ed was the necromancer’s red-eared slider. Her dead pet turtle.
“Sorry?” I asked. “Heading back from where?”
Mory nodded behind me. I whirled around to face the hidden entrance to the prison, seeing nothing but the rocky shore.
“We’re supposed to keep our distance, right?” Mory said blithely. “And the witches can’t take down the wards every night. So Ed scouts.”
I didn’t want to know … I didn’t want to know …
“And then Ed … tells you what’s going on inside?”
Mory sneered. “Of course not, Jade. He’s a turtle. He can’t talk. I see what he sees.”
And there was the creepy I’d been expecting.
“He can’t go into the cells, of course.” Mory continued her explanation, thankfully not noticing me thinking how glad I was that I hadn’t eaten since the bridal shower.
I mean, everyone thought seeing through the eyes of a dead pet turtle was super creepy, right? Seriously useful, sure. But creepy as all hell.
Benjamin was furiously taking notes.
Kandy grinned to herself, watching me out of the corner of her narrowed eyes as if gleefully anticipating my eventual freak-out.
Well, I was going to have to disappoint her. “Great, great,” I said with completely false perkiness. “Well, keep us informed —”
“He’s back.”
Ah, damn it.
I turned, my skin already crawling even before I caught sight of the six-inch turtle as he crossed through the witches’ wards cloaking the entrance to the cave. Then he continued to shuffle his way through the sand to Mory. The necromancer scooped Ed up, brushing him off and cooing. The reanimated turtle was wearing a tiny amulet around his neck. The charm was constructed out of a dime that tasted distinctly of my mother’s strawberry magic. It was presumably what allowed him to pass through the wards.
Delightful. And again, seriously efficient. But creepy.
“So … nothing then.” Kandy spread her arms, elbows bent, to the sides, giving me an All right then? look.
“No activity here,” Benjamin said. “The Talbots left around 3:00 p.m. yesterday for Whistler. And nothing magical has been in the area since. As far as I can tell, of course. Not after sunset at least.”
Mory slid off the log, somehow looping her satchel strap over her head without getting tangled in her yarn. She tucked her turtle in her bag. “I’ll grab a ride with you guys.” She looked at me defiantly. “I’m coming to dinner. And dancing.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Why would I try to stop you?”
Mory simply narrowed her eyes at me, nodded a brisk goodbye to Benjamin, and wandered off toward the stairs. And yes, she was still knitting.
I looked over at Kandy. “Really? You thought I’d get pissy about you inviting Mory?”
“Nope,” Kandy said. “Kid has her own issues, doesn’t she?”
“Um,” Benjamin said hopefully. “We were going to schedule that third interview …”
“Nope again.” Kandy bared her teeth at the fledgling vampire, challenging him.
He looked nonplussed. “I was asking Jade, actually.”
“Be more specific then, Benny boy.” The green-haired werewolf turned on her heel to deliberately give the vampire her back, following Mory over to and up the stairs.
“Right,” I said, answering Benjamin’s question. For the modern-day chronicle he was piecing together, the young vampire had made two earlier attempts to chat with me one-on-one. Problem was, those previous sessions kept getting interrupted. “How about tomorrow?”
“At the bakery again?”
“Yeah. What time?”
“Sun sets at 4:20 … so, 5:00 p.m.?”
“Sounds good. Come to the alley door. The bakery’s closed tomorrow.”
Benjamin smiled, hitting me with a charismatic blast of his vampire magic — his version of the ensnarement ability that most vampires were rumored to wield. Though I hadn’t yet felt Jasmine attempt to beguile anyone, and Kett was either careful about it, or he chose to not continually attempt to enthrall his friends.
I grinned back at Benjamin, then jogged through the dry sand to catch up to Kandy on the stairs.
The dark-haired vampire settled down on a log, already bent over the notebook open on his knee. He was likely contentedly transcribing the conversation we’d all just had. Or formulating more questions.
“I’m texting Liam Talbot,” I called up to Kandy. “We have time to fit in a chat.”
Kandy stopped at the top of the stairs with a put-out groan. “Dowser …”
“Hey, I’m trying to be responsible. You know?” I opened my text messages and found the thread of my conversations with Liam. “The elves haven’t just decided to play games randomly.”
Kandy grumbled something under her breath that sounded like, “You hope …”
“He’s on a date,” Mory said. She was leaning on the guardrail at the edge of the paved seawall. And yes, still knitting.
“Liam?” I asked.
Kandy nodded, abruptly enthusiastic. “You should definitely text him then, dowser. What’s it been? Three days since your last check-in? Anything could have happened.”
I gave her a narrow-eyed look. “I probably shouldn’t interrupt his date.”
“Better than bothering him on shift,” Kandy said perkily. “Plus, I wouldn’t mind seeing who the detective constable deems worthy of dating.”
“He got the promotion then?”
“Just had to pass an exam,” Mory said. “After his probationary period. Homicide unit. Though there might have been a bit of magic involved. I heard there isn’t normally supposed to be any special treatment for international police officers. But he’s back at the same rank he had before, in Boston.”
“Boston, eh?” Kandy drawled. “And just how do you know so much about Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass Sorcerer?”
Mory jutted her chin out belligerently, but she didn’t otherwise answer.
I shook my head, choosing to text Liam while the werewolf and the necromancer had a staring contest.
There’s been some activity tonight. Would like to chat.
“I thought you were banging baby fang,” Kandy said.
“What?” Mory cried, blushing fiercely.
“Aha!” Kandy looked at me triumphantly.
“I am not …” Mory’s voice cracked. “I’m not having sex with Benjamin.”
“Aha! Ha! Ha!” Kandy crowed. “I thought Tony Talbot was more your speed.”
“What?!” Mory looked over at me for reinforcement, torn between being utterly frustrated and getting seriously angry.
“Liam is a little old for you, isn’t he?” I said instead, so very helpfully. “He’s what, twenty-three?”
My werewolf BFF chuckled, grinning gleefully at the necromancer.
Mory snapped her mouth shut. Kandy had actually managed to distract her from her knitting, but apparently the necromancer wasn’t going to continue the argument.
A text message from Liam pinged through on my phone.
>I’m available at 9 am tomorrow.
I’m available now.
Kandy leaned over to look at my phone, then snorted.
Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, indicating that Liam was typing something. The dots continued flashing … and continued …
Kandy chortled. “He’s telling you off. The sorcerer has balls, all right. But he’s a moron.”
My phone pinged.
>I’m at Browns on West Fourth.
Kandy started guffawing.
“What?” Mory eyed the werewolf with obvious distrust.
“He deleted whatever he was going to text,” I said. “Possibly.”
“Scared of the dowser!” Kandy whooped, hustling across the swath of grass between us and Gran’s navy-blue Lexus where we’d parked on Ogden Avenue.
Mory eyed me. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Respect?”
I almost demurred. I almost said no, almost tried to fall back into my old everyone is a friend routine. Then I simply nodded. “It’s clearer that way.”
“And easier to protect everyone, if they know to defer to you.” There wasn’t any judgement in Mory’s tone, but I felt it nonetheless.
I shoved my hands in the back pockets of my dead sister’s jeans, not bothering to deny my position — my status — to the necromancer. Because I also wore the instruments of assassination around my neck, and there was no denying the responsibility that had come along with my claiming of them. Unintended or not.
Mory tucked her knitting away in her bag. Then she bumped her shoulder against mine in an unusual display of camaraderie. “Let’s go ruin Liam’s night. Then eat something.”
I barked out an involuntary laugh, having no idea what the necromancer held against the detective. Except, of course, the simple fact that he was a sorcerer. It made sense that Mory carried the same prejudice as I did. She had certainly learned to not trust sorcerers at the same time I had — including Mot Blackwell himself.
Without pestering her with questions, I wandered across the grass with the tiny necromancer at my side, silently contemplating that I was pretty certain that Mory had a thing for Benjamin Garrick. Because for a necromancer, there couldn’t possibly be a worse romantic choice. For countless reasons. And everyone had to pick wrong at least once or twice until they figured out who the right choice was. Didn’t they?
Browns Socialhouse was a restaurant that specialized in elevated pub fare on the corner of West Fourth Avenue and Vine Street, just west of and across the street from the bakery. I was a rather big fan of their teriyaki chicken dragon bowl, for obvious reasons. And Kandy often dragged me there on a Thursday or Friday to watch whatever sport she was currently — and most often raucously — following.
The pub was at capacity when we arrived, reminding me that we were about to be late for dinner ourselves. Still, the two rows of tables lined up on the tiny sidewalk patio along Vine Street were empty. Even with heat lamps set above them, it was too chilly to dine outside in December in Vancouver.
I didn’t bother shouldering my way through the guests waiting to be seated in the tiny vestibule beyond the glass front door. I could see Liam through the windows, watching hockey — Canucks versus Flames, it looked like — on a massive TV over the bar. He had a half-full pint glass of what appeared to be a golden lager in hand. The woman seated to his right, watching the game as well, was darker-haired than the sorcerer but lighter skinned. She wasn’t, however, magical. Or if she was, any taste of that magic was hidden underneath Liam Talbot’s creamy-peanut-buttery power.
Mory peered around my shoulder, snorted inexplicably, and then wandered back to climb into the back seat of Gran’s car. We’d scored a parking spot out front of the Starbucks on the same side of the street.
Kandy laughed under her breath, eyeing the sorcerer and his apparent date. “So the eldest Talbot is a bit of a player.” She turned her back on the window. “Good to know.”
“One date doesn’t make a player,” I said.
“True, dowser.” Kandy flashed her teeth in my direction. “Not terribly observant. But true.”
I huffed out a laugh, then texted Liam.
We’re outside. Waiting.
Blunt, and just on the edge of pissy. But then, I generally preferred to be snarky when dealing with sorcerers. All except Henry Calhoun, that was.
“So when is the marshal making another appearance?” I asked, trying to kill time.
Kandy shrugged belligerently. “I don’t have Henry’s schedule in my head.”
Inside, Liam tugged his phone out of his pocket, glanced at his screen, and said something apologetic to his date. Crossing to the far edge of the sidewalk, so that I wasn’t blocking the door, I glanced at Mory in the back seat of the car. “Think they’re dating, then? Mory and Liam?”
“Nah. She’s playing around with us.” Kandy joined me, deliberately looking away from the pub as Liam made his way through the tables toward the entrance. “Or they aren’t exclusive.”
“He is a little old for her,” I said, repeating myself from earlier. Though I knew I was being overprotective, I was apparently unable to stop myself.
Kandy snorted. “Says the woman scheduled to marry the five-hundred-year-old.”
“You know all those years don’t count,” I said, peeved. “Warner is only like … fifty …”
I started to laugh. Kandy joined me as Liam pushed open the door. He was wearing a light-brown ribbed sweater and light-blue jeans. The sweater was a little loose on him, its sleeves covering the backs of his hands. The collar of a white T-shirt showed at the edge of the oversized neck. The look was deliberately, almost affectedly, casual. But there was nothing casual about Liam Talbot. His dark hair was almost too short, his jaw always freshly shaven. I would have bet that he went for a jog every time he consumed any sort of ‘bad’ calories.
I grinned involuntarily, imagining him needing to run home in order to burn off the cupcake I forced on him every Thursday.
Liam’s step faltered. His gaze was glued to me.
Apparently, my smile was a little off-putting. Well, that was new. Okay … newish.
Kandy chuckled darkly. But quietly, so the sorcerer might not have heard.
“Sorry to interrupt you,” I said, deciding to play nice since I was actually intruding on his date. “The interlopers have made a couple of plays.”
Liam glanced to both sides of us, but the sidewalk was empty for a dozen or so feet in either direction. “Tonight?” He closed the space between us.
“Yep,” Kandy said. “And in Whistler yesterday.”
Liam raised a concerned eyebrow.
“Your parents know,” I said, lowering my voice as a group of chatty guests exited the pub. “But the elves seem to be back in Vancouver now.”
Liam nodded. “Okay. Good to know. Has anyone been hurt?”
I shook my head. “No … well, not by the elves.”
Liam eyed me but didn’t ask for clarification. He was smart like that.
“This evening, they attacked Jasmine —”
“The vampire?” Liam asked.
Kandy lifted her lip in a snarl. “What do you care?”
I stifled a grin.
Liam eyed Kandy warily but steadily. “I’ve never met her … so I was just asking for clarification. Attacking a vampire seems like an odd opening move.”
“Right …” I briefly considered going back and filling him in on Whistler, but Kandy glanced at the time on her phone, then shifted impatiently. “There were a couple of … interactions before that, but —”
“All easily handled by Jade,” Kandy interjected. “No need for you to puff out your chest and start flashing your gun around.”
Liam frowned, seemingly missing the gender-dynamics lesson the green-haired werewolf was belligerently trying to foist upon him. But with Angelica as his mother, I seriously doubted that Liam was overprotective because he thought women were weak. As far as I’d figured out, he was that way because he was accustomed to being the strongest magically — and therefore the least likely to be targeted — among his siblings.
“Point is,” I said, “I wanted you to know. Two elves, one skilled in illusion and one skilled in telepathy. Well, some sort of telepathy, but not just mind reading.”
Liam tilted his head to one side. “Like what?”
“Psionic manipulation. Jasmine thought so, anyhow. Transmitted through some sort of blood magic. I had a sample of the blood they used, but I lost it.”
Liam glanced back and forth between Kandy and me, his shoulders and jaw suddenly tense. Then he glanced back inside the pub.
Seeing his concern, I realized that I had somehow forgotten to be as worried about the magical prowess of others as I should have been. Which was plain stupid of me. I turned to Kandy, apologetic. “I think maybe we should cancel —”
“Absolutely not!”
“I know you’ve been planning this for months, but …” I trailed off. Honestly, continuing with a bachelorette party when we were possibly under attack was irresponsible. “We should be tracking the elves … really.”
“We’re already pretty clear that we can’t track them,” Kandy said. “And we know they’ll come to us. You’ve already quashed all their volleys … the warrior, the illusionist, and the telepath. Easily. So if they can’t get through you, they seriously can’t get past all of us gathered together.”
“Plus …” Liam said thoughtfully. “You might actually draw their attention. Grouped together.”
I was surrounded by insane people. Even the police officer — sorry, detective constable — thought it was a good idea to draw the elves out. “And any innocents who happen to get caught in the crossfire? At the restaurant, say? We just write them off?”
“Of course not,” Liam huffed indignantly. “But you can control the environment, keep it contained.”
Kandy grumbled. “I’ll cancel the dinner. We’ll get takeout instead and eat at your apartment. It doesn’t get much more contained than that. But we’re still going dancing!” She stomped off toward the car before I could respond to her plan.
Liam gazed after the green-haired werewolf, then lifted a hand in a wave when he spotted Mory in the back seat. The necromancer didn’t wave back.
I looked at him pointedly. “So? Anything to report?”
He cleared his throat, shaking his head.
“What about the rash of break-ins you were looking into? The ones you said where nothing was stolen? Have they continued?”
“No. Last one was at BC Place two days ago. Which is weird, but there wasn’t any magical trace when I went by to check it out.”
I frowned. “BC Place … weren’t there others around there as well?”
“Not enough to make a pattern.”
“And how many does that take?” I asked teasingly.
“Well, uh, at least three.”
“I’m joking.”
He nodded but didn’t smile. “All the incidents were in large spaces, though. If you are looking for some sort of connection between them. Large, empty spaces.”
“And how are you checking for magic?” I asked. “Do you have … some sort of a device?”
Liam nodded, but he didn’t elaborate. Adepts were fanatically close-mouthed about their personal magic.
“And it’s calibrated for elf magic? How? Did you take it to the park before the residual fully faded?” That was the residual from me murdering the warrior elf. But I was certain I didn’t need to add that part.
Liam looked at me, a little aghast.
Great. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one prone to making assumptions. “Yeah, if the elves can hide from my dowser senses and Kandy’s nose, then your device might not be picking them up either.”
Liam cursed under his breath. “They’re from another dimension.”
“When you have a moment, maybe take your device down to Kits Pool. The illusionist put on a little show there about an hour ago. You might be able to pick up a trace of it.”
He nodded, already turning back to the pub. “I’ll head there now. Then I’ll backtrack through the series of break-ins.”
“At least finish dinner,” I said as he opened the door to the pub and stepped back inside.
Liam waved his hand over his shoulder, acknowledging me but obviously intent on his new course of action. The door slowly closed behind him.
Well, his date was going to be seriously peeved. Most likely at me. I hustled over to the car, eager to be out of the way of any deadly looks. If she was a local, she might recognize me from the bakery — and I had a reputation for being fun to uphold.
Whether or not I was perpetually a magnet for magical chaos, my cupcakes should make everyone happy.
Kandy circled the block in Gran’s car, dropping me off at the mouth of the alley before looping back in the opposite direction. Her plan was to stop at Mory’s so the necromancer could get changed, then pick up Jasmine at Gran’s before meeting up for a take-out dinner at my apartment. The green-haired werewolf had shoved her phone into Mory’s hands as we pulled away from the pub, seemingly ready to dictate text messages the entire length of the drive.
Apparently, I had foiled the second stage of her intricate bachelorette party plans with my uncharacteristic caution. But my inability to easily taste, and therefore track, the elves’ magic was unnerving me. At some point, their games were going to become deadly — and more and more, it felt as though I wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it until there were bodies on the ground.
Just like the incident with the warrior elf in the park. And he’d been wounded before the fight started.
That was supposed to be my job now, wasn’t it? Protecting my territory? That was what everyone kept insisting, anyway. And by ‘everyone,’ I meant Kandy and Gran.
I stepped out of the Lexus, holding the door open as I stooped and offered up a tentative request. “Sushi, maybe?”
Kandy snorted dismissively. “In December? Really?”
I stifled a laugh. The werewolf ate anything at anytime. She was just being pissy.
“Sushi Gallery has great party trays.” Mory spoke up from the back seat, her face illuminated by the ghostly blue light coming off Kandy’s phone. “Including veggie options for Rochelle.”
Kandy sneered something under her breath — most likely a comment about the lunacy of vegetarianism. “I’ll take care of it, dowser.” She lifted her foot off the brake pedal.
Thusly dismissed, I shut the car door as the vehicle rolled away.
Kandy sped off down Vine, cutting right on West Third Avenue. I waited until the car was out of sight, then I turned to scan the dark alley. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Magic rippled near the door to the bakery, and the illusionist elf stepped into view. Her pale skin was luminous, though the stars hadn’t broken through the heavy cloud cover. She didn’t have so much as a blemish from having been badly burned just a couple of hours earlier. Apparently, elves healed in our dimension more quickly than I’d thought.
The elf had traded out the ruined light-blue jacket for a light-yellow one, in the same design as far as I could tell. It didn’t do wonderful things for her coloring. Which was a nasty thought that I kept to myself.
I had tasted the illusionist’s mossy magic the second I’d stepped out of the car, but I hadn’t been sure whether I was simply picking up residual or if another trap had been laid. And with Mory in the potential line of fire, I wasn’t interested in triggering anything that might have inadvertently hurt the necromancer. Though I knew Kandy would be pissed that I hadn’t told her.
“You are getting more difficult to sneak up on, dragon slayer,” the elf said, practically purring the words.
A chill ran down my spine at her use of my title. She knew way too much about me. And I knew far too little in return. I took two steps toward her, painfully aware of the brightly lit apartments on either side of the alley. It was dinnertime. Everyone was at home, and within easy view of whatever display the elf was about to put on.
I ran my fingers over my knife, still sheathed and invisible. Doing so stirred up the damp-forest taste of the elf’s magic.
She watched me for a long moment. Then she held her hands slightly out to the sides, as if indicating that she held no weapons — and therefore meant no harm. “I let the werewolf and the death witch leave, didn’t I? When I already know that to harm either of them is the best way to harm you.”
My heartbeat ratcheted up. For the first time in a long while, I felt the beginnings of a true creeping fear. One-on-one, I knew I was a match for the elves. I’d proven that without a doubt. But they were coming at me in a different way, undercover and annoyingly observant. And executing a plan I had no capacity to fathom.
I was about to wade in. I was about to be out of my depth.
I might have been physically strong and mentally resilient. But I just wasn’t all that clever. And there was nothing I could do about that except learn from my mistakes. Like the mistake I was certain I was about to make.
“I am Mirage,” the elf said.
That threw me. I’d been expecting an attack, a renewal of threats. “Mirage?”
The elf tilted her head to the side. “It fits, doesn’t it? I used one of your dictionaries.”
I nodded, dropping my hand from my knife and casually moving closer still. “It fits. But why are you here, Mirage? In the back alley of my bakery?”
“I knew you’d eventually come home. And I …” She touched her neck thoughtfully, maybe remembering the feel of Gran’s magic searing her skin. “I am … bereaved by the loss of my brother.”
A nasty pinpoint of pain formed in my chest, just over my heart. She meant the elf I’d killed. The murder I’d so coldheartedly flung in her face. “He’d hurt —”
She waved her hand, cutting me off. “He was doing his duty. And, I assume, you were doing yours.”
I waited for her to continue. To tell me why she’d chosen to try to chat with me instead of throwing another illusion my way.
“We don’t belong here,” she finally said. She looked up almost mournfully at the dark, cloudy sky. “Even the rain is the wrong color.”
“What should it be? Purple?”
She laughed quietly. “No. Only the seas and tributaries are purple in my world.”
“So … you want to go home?”
She looked at me steadily, but she didn’t respond.
I laughed ruefully. “You think I’m stupid. Ignorant of the incursions your race has continually made into earth’s dimension?”
“No.” The elf shifted, stuffing her hands in her pockets. Then she just as quickly removed them, showing me her palms.
She was nervous.
Now that was odd.
“I’m not here … in this alley with permission.” She reached up and touched the clear gemstone embedded in her forehead. “I’m not transgressing, but … I thought if I could bring my liege an idea, a chance to go home … then …”
My liege. So the illusionist — and presumably the warrior before her — took orders from someone. Likely the telepath, who’d also been locked away with them. Damn Pulou. If he’d responded to my requests to meet, then I might not have been standing in the alley completely blind to the history of the trio of elves he’d stashed in Vancouver.
“Return home, then,” I said. “If you can travel here, certainly you can go back?”
“Not without help.” Mirage stuffed her hands in her pockets again, gazing down at her feet. Her uber-straight hair fell forward, and for a moment she looked almost human. Vulnerable.
It was totally a ploy. Just another trap. And I was going to walk right into it.
“What kind of help?” I said.
“I’m not quite certain. The working … the technology, as you would call it, is beyond my understanding. There is a device that opens a doorway.”
“And without it, you can’t go home?”
She nodded, but stiffly and just once.
“Anyone else getting shades of E.T.?” I muttered.
“Sorry?”
“Never mind. An earth movie from the early eighties.”
Mirage nodded, once more lifting her face to the night sky. “Did he die well?”
She meant her brother.
“He did.” I quashed another pinch of pain over the devastation I’d wrought, whether it was necessary or not.
“We were only half alive in that prison,” she said. “I wasn’t certain I was still alive. I could not feel … anything. Could not create anything. And I did not know if anyone else lived until my liege opened the door.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Do you?”
I nodded but didn’t elaborate.
“You have many religions in this dimension,” Mirage said.
“We do.”
“What do you believe, dragon slayer? When you die, do you cease to exist?”
“No,” I whispered. “I am … magic.”
She nodded sadly. “And my brother? And me, when I die at the end of your blade? Am I the same magic?”
“Yes.” I struggled to keep my voice steady against a wave of mixed emotion.
“Will you meet with my liege if she will agree? Then take our request to the dragons?”
“I will.”
She smiled, but not victoriously.
“And …” I added, hardening my tone. “If I’m walking into a trap, I’ll slaughter you both.”
“Just like my brother.”
“Yes.”
“And if it is a trap, and you fail. Who will come after you?”
I closed the final two steps between us, feeling the magic of the bakery wards brush against my shoulder. “If you have to ask, you haven’t been paying as close attention as I thought.”
“A future I would avoid … Jade.” She reached out to me, offering to shake my hand. “If you don’t see me again, I have died in my attempt to convince my liege that we should leave.”
I gazed at her hand, though I didn’t take it. “If that happens, shall I avenge you?”
She laughed mirthlessly. “I have been watching. Closely. I know you by your actions. Killing my liege is beyond even you. But I would never wish such a fight upon either of you. Will you come to a meeting? Will you at least hear our request?”
“A ceasefire?” I asked.
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “A temporary end of aggression, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Agreed. Though I can speak only for myself.”
I reached over and grasped her hand then. Her skin was smooth, her grip strong. Her elf magic fluttered underneath my fingers like the wings of a bird trapped in a cage. “I will listen then … Mira.” I hesitantly offered up the nickname, hoping to cement our tentative bond. Hoping that the nuance — the offer of friendship — would translate, even though we came from different dimensions. The illusionist’s obvious love for her brother led me to believe that she was capable of forming such a bond.
She smiled, flashing her shark-like teeth at me. “Mira. Yes. That fits this place better.” She released my hand, then spun away, jogging down the alley.
As I watched, she gathered her magic and disappeared from my sight. I tasted just a hint of her moss-and-evergreen-bark power as she went.
I had most likely just negotiated and set up the terms of the trap meant for me. But at least I would know when it was coming. And that it wouldn’t be directed at anyone else.
I turned to open the exterior door of the bakery, hoping that I’d have enough time before Kandy returned to change and to properly blow-dry my hair. Hoping I was wrong about Mira.
I didn’t much like leaving my city, let alone the country. As a result, I could only barely imagine what it would feel like to be trapped in another dimension. Away from everyone I loved. So even though I was certain I was being played, that yet another game had just been set in motion, I still hoped I was wrong.
But wrong in a good way for once.