“T his is a terrible idea.” Even standing in his own kitchen, Harper looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Agreed, but it’s the best I’ve got.” Nikolai had waited until arriving to broach the subject—easier to dispel Harper’s misgivings in person—and hadn’t explained all the details yet. First he needed Harper to agree.
“Can’t you just . . . I dunno, persuade Medea to remove the curse?”
“She denies placing it. I told you, the woman is crazy.”
“And your solution is to do something even crazier?” He eyed the box in Nikolai’s arms with trepidation.
“If it mitigates the symptoms, yes.” He put on his best pleading face, the one Harper couldn’t resist. “I need this. I need your help. Please tell me I can count on my best friend.”
Harper sighed and shook his head. “Alright, what do you want me to do?”
Nikolai grinned internally at the victory and set the box on the counter. “When the ladies arrive—”
“Ladies?” Harper said sharply. “What ladies?”
“The curse likes to hit in the middle of sex, so I ordered two of them to double my odds of triggering it.”
Harper stared at him, aghast. “Ordered? Are you telling me you hired two prostitutes to come to my flat?”
“I needed professionals. Women who would arrive on time and leave once paid, not stay and fuss over me.” Despite expecting an uncomfortable afternoon, he enjoyed watching Harper squirm.
“Goodness, Nikolai. My neighbor already has it in for me. If she sees a couple of prostitutes knock on my door—”
“Then maybe she’ll stop worrying over the constant parade of men. Look, I need the prostitutes to make this work. I’ll tell them to come get you once I start acting funny. Make the ladies leave, then give me the box. There’s gloves in there so you can hold them up, in case I’m too out of it.”
“You want me to wear gloves , but you’re going to lick the damn things?!”
There was a gentle knocking on the door. Perfect timing.
“That’ll be them. Please, Harper, just do this for me. Please?”
Harper groaned but didn’t argue further. Nikolai slid the box along the counter toward him and went to answer the door.
“Welcome, ladies! Please come in.” He smiled and offered to take their coats.
They shed their long overcoats to reveal summer dresses. One woman turned a suspicious eye toward Harper. “You said there’d only be one of you.”
Nikolai laughed. “He’s my valet. I sometimes fall ill—nothing contagious, I assure you, but he’s here to assist me if it happens. This way, ladies.”
He directed them to the bedroom, where he spent time boasting about his sexual prowess. Neither woman believed him, of course, smiling politely as he raved about how he’d show them a good time. He hated to look a fool, but the more he built up the encounter, the more likely the curse was to hit. They’d know the truth soon enough.
A threesome was more challenging than he thought it would be, though he performed admirably, tongue buried deep in one while a hand worked the other. Fingernails bit into his scalp as the first woman neared climax. He turned his full attention to her—she would remember him as the client who proved her wrong. Him, Nikolai, the greatest lover who ever—
Like clockwork, the fog descended and he slumped to the floor like the Useless waste that he was. The women were only humoring him. He’d paid for their services, hadn’t he? A liar paying for lies. He curled on the rug next to the bed, vaguely aware of the women talking over him in hushed voices. The door opened and closed.
“Nikolai?” Harper’s concerned voice spoke near his shoulder. “They’ve left. Let’s get you up.”
Firm hands grasped him under the arms and hauled him into a sitting position. Medea was right, he was trash. Harper should drag him into the hallway and leave him like the garbage that he was. He stared blankly at the box on the rug. It wouldn’t work. Nothing would work. He slumped over and Harper had to right him again.
“Hang in there, Nikolai. Just give me a minute.” Harper opened the box to reveal two sacks and a pair of gloves. He donned the gloves and removed the larger sack, which wriggled as he picked it up.
In the library, Nikolai had written every variation of Yoxtl’s clue he could think of into the master grimoire. Nothing relevant came up for “dapper frog,” so he searched for “frog” and “toad.” This yielded a number of books. There were many frogs and toads with toxic or medicinal properties—poison dart frogs, cane toads, giant monkey frogs, corroboree frogs . . .
Two stood out as contenders, both native to Yoxtl’s home region. The first was the cane toad. While “cane” referred to sugarcane, it could also be interpreted as the walking variety, which was used in “dapper” dress. Poison dart frogs were another possibility. While their name did not suggest dapper, they were vibrantly colored and could be considered well-dressed compared to other frogs.
Both were incredibly toxic.
The experiment would no doubt make him ill, and he had prepared a variety of healing potions and antidotes just in case. If the poison mitigated the effects of the curse, it would be worth it. He could always isolate the active ingredients later. Right now he just needed to know if either poison worked.
Harper extracted the cane toad from the bag and grimaced as the fat, ugly thing struggled to break free. Something dark squirted between his fingers and splattered against his cream-colored pants. Harper shrieked and nearly dropped the toad.
“It pooped on me!”
He held the animal up to Nikolai’s face. Nikolai stuck out his tongue and Harper dragged the amphibian over it.
His tongue erupted in fire. He grabbed the bedsheet and tried to wipe away the pain. Why was it so hot in here? He fumbled to loosen his collar but found only bare skin. Oh right, he’d undressed for the ladies. Lights danced before his eyes, beautiful in their brightness. Everything was wonderful!
“. . . Nikolai! Nikolai! Wake up! Oh God, please don’t let him die.”
He opened his eyes to a blurry mass of pink and gold.
“Oh, thank goodness,” exclaimed Harper. “Can you hear me? How do you feel? Your heart—it won’t stop racing. You vomited and fell over. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to get a potion into you, but you kept retching.”
He tried to sit up, but his head pounded him into the floor. “I felt . . . it worked for a second there.”
“Like heck it did! Didn’t you hear anything I said? You almost died! Drink this.”
Something pressed against his lips. He took a sip and coughed. So sore. It had worked—hadn’t it? No, the high had merely driven the malaise away for a moment. Already he could feel the nagging doubts plucking insistently at his mind. He was worthless and stupid and . . .
He locked eyes with Harper. “The frog now. I need to try the frog.”
Harper flung up his arms. “Are you mad? No!”
“Please, Harper, I have to get rid of this thing. I have to.”
“At least wait until you’ve healed up. You should see yourself. You’re beet red and shaking. If you collapse again and I can’t get a potion into you . . .”
“I can’t have this curse interfering with my life. Harper, please help me. You’re the only one I trust.” He bit his lip and tried his best puppy-eyed expression. Reaching for Harper’s hand was out. If his motor coordination was as shot as he thought it was, he didn’t want to fumble and reinforce Harper’s belief that he was too ill to try again.
“Don’t you dare lay this on me! You think I can’t tell what you’re doing?”
“Please?” Harper loved him. He’d do it.
Harper bowed his blond head and crumpled. “Why do you do this to me?” He reached for the second sack but made no move to open it. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.”
Unlike the toad, the frog tasted peppery. The world swam before him. Colors. So many colors! Harper melted into the floor. Always so brightly colored and glittery, that one. Nikolai tried to scoop him up before he could seep through the carpet, but the bright colors slipped through his fingers.
“No, Harper, where did you go?” He grabbed the floor but came back with nothing.
A red candle appeared, such an angry hue. It shouted at him, but he couldn’t make out the words so he turned aside. No time for that. He’d been looking for something. What was it?
He groped forward with his hands. Silver beams of light shot from his fingertips and radiated out in a blossom of color. He swayed his hands back and forth, watching the light dance. He laughed and ran his fingers along the wall. Colors trailed behind them.
An angry noise tugged at his attention. The red candle snuffed out the glittery candle. Pain lanced through his body and the colors dispersed, replaced with agony. His limbs pounded and he tasted blood.
* * *
Nikolai’s health ward screamed at Medea. Just once she’d like to have a free day without a ward going off. Apprentices were equipped with health and location tracking wards, ensuring she didn’t go too far while sparring and allowing her to find them in case of an emergency. They were supposed to be a rarely used precautionary measure, yet this was the second time Nikolai’s had gone off.
The question was why. As much as she wanted to keep him alive, if he was drowning in the pools again or if he’d engaged in risky behavior, well, actions had consequences. She reached along the magical thread.
Poison coursed through Nikolai’s body. Given the recent attempt on her life, the two were probably connected. Whoever the assassin was, they were clever. The man she’d dueled in Safe Harbor had probably been a decoy. Poisoning Nikolai was the perfect way to lure her away from the island, which meant the assassin knew how her wards worked. What trap did they have planned, and should she walk willingly into it?
If she did nothing, Nikolai would die, and she couldn’t have that, not when it wasn’t his fault. Where was he? Somewhere in London, but not close to the gateway. By the time she got there he’d be dead—unless she teleported.
So that’s how the assassin planned to get her.
Teleportation required one to break up and reassemble the body. The spell was beyond the ability of most casters, demanding great focus and will to hold oneself together in the ether. Those who failed disintegrated into nothing, but that was not what worried Medea. The process left one sick and groggy and stripped away bodily enchantments. Her protective spells would be gone. Could she even remember them all, let alone recast them in time to ward off an attack? She’d have to disable her opponent fast and hard, before they could take advantage of her weakened state, and she’d have to do it while stabilizing Nikolai.
She felt along the ward. Odd—Nikolai’s body had healed a bit. Had he solved the problem on his own? Still worth checking on, but it gave her time to use a gateway. Much safer.
She set a brisk pace to the gateway room. London assaulted her with its polluted air and unrelenting din of passing cars and people. She strengthened her shields, muffling the worst of it, and strode up the avenue looking for a cab.
The ward blared against her senses. Nikolai was dying, and he was dying now .
Heart racing, she closed her eyes, shielded her external senses, and felt along the magical thread to his position. She flew apart, yet held herself together. That was the key—to retain the idea of your body, grasping it close with your soul, while allowing the physical pieces of oneself to move freely through space. An instant later, she slammed her body back together.
Teleportation sickness nearly brought her to her knees. Every inch of her body screamed. Her gorge rose, but she managed to swallow it back down. Thank god she hadn’t eaten yet today. Shields up. Assess the threat. She couldn’t appear weak, not now.
There he was, her opponent—a young man Nikolai’s age. She didn’t recognize him, but that meant nothing, and anyway he had an illusion over his head. No doubt he’d made himself look like someone Nikolai knew in order to gain his trust. Nikolai fumbled against a wall, hallucinating.
Before the assassin could say a word, she threw him against the wall, bound and gagged him with her will, and ripped the illusion from his head. Flaxen gold hair and blue eyes turned to curly brown and brown.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The man’s eyes widened but he said nothing. Oh, right, the gag. She released his tongue.
A loud thump, followed by several lighter thumps, sounded behind her. She tore her eyes away from her enemy. Nikolai convulsed on the floor in a pool of sick. The sight did nothing to allay her nausea. Stomach acid stung the back of her throat and she bolted from the room, fumbling through the large apartment until she found a trash can, and heaved into it. Jelly-legged, she wobbled to an armchair and collapsed, shoving the trash can between her knees. Damn teleportation sickness.
Breathe. Stabilize the boy. Interrogate the prisoner.
Thoughts in order, she cast Stasis on Nikolai and examined the damage. Dealing with poison once it permeated the body was never fun. Always best to prevent it from entering at all. The assassin had been thorough, using multiple poisons to attack a number of Nikolai’s systems, while amplifying the effect of each. She’d have to kill and regrow whole swaths of tissue. The blood vessels were so constricted that if she released the Stasis, he’d immediately go into cardiac arrest. She cast a few cleansing spells on Nikolai. A proper healing would take a more concentrated effort. Time enough for that later, after she’d dealt with the threat.
When she was certain the teleportation sickness had passed, Medea rose to confront her attacker. The big baby sobbed from his position on the wall, as though she’d crucified him or something rather than just held him in place. If he thought he had it bad now, he was woefully mistaken.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“He’s dead,” the boy wailed. “He’s dead and it’s all my fault!”
“He’s not dead, no thanks to you. Who are you?”
“He’s . . . he’s not dead?” The boy looked behind her, at Nikolai’s still form. “Then you have to help him!”
“I am . He’s in stasis. I’m going to ask you one more time, and then I start removing body parts. Who. Are. You?”
“H-H-Harper.” The boy took a shuddering breath. “Nikolai’s friend. Surely he’s mentioned me? We went to the Academy together.”
“Nikolai doesn’t discuss his personal life with me. And people don’t usually wear illusions to disguise their appearance around friends.”
“I always wear it. Ever since the war.” He laughed nervously. “Earned me the nickname Goldilocks. Heal Nikolai—he’ll tell you.”
He seemed sincere, but she’d been wrong before. Maybe he did know Nikolai but found out about the apprenticeship and decided to settle some age-old debt. No, he would have issued the Servitus aut Mors if that were the case—unless he found a way around it. Unlikely. Had someone approached him and asked him to lay the trap? She scanned the apartment and several nearby but could sense no magical presence.
“Who put you up to this?” she asked.
“Nikolai did. I told him it was a bad idea, but—”
“You expect me to believe he asked you to give him two vasoconstrictors back to back?”
“Vaso . . . what? It was just an experiment that went horribly wrong, that’s all.”
Experiment? Nikolai did this to himself ? But why? What the hell had he gotten himself into now?
“The poison. Where is it?”
“There, in the sacks.” The boy glanced over her shoulder, toward the floor. “Though I think one got loose. I’m afraid I was a bit distracted.”
She floated a sack over. Careful not to touch it, she peered inside. Bufo marinus . The cane toad’s toxin was mildly hallucinogenic, and some idiots sought the temporary euphoria despite the risk. Nikolai could be stupid, but she hadn’t thought he was that stupid.
“Is this what you two do on his days off?” she asked, voice rising. “Take hallucinogens for fun? If that’s how he plays, he can damn well endure the consequences.”
She tossed the bag back in the box and released the boy. He slid to the floor and scrambled to his feet.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean I’m going to cancel my healing spells and remove Stasis.” Just like that, another apprentice gone. She hated to see all that potential go to waste, but she would not prop up someone who seemed so dead set on getting themselves killed. Immortality had to be earned .
“No, please don’t!” The boy ran in front of Nikolai’s body and threw out his arms.
“You really think that’s going to stop me?”
“He wasn’t doing it for fun. He had a good reason!”
“The same reason every young boy has, I’m sure. What is it this time, ‘expanding your mind’?”
“I—I can’t tell you.”
She crossed her arms and gave him her best scowl, which she’d been assured was quite severe.
Something hardened in the boy’s eyes. “I can’t .”
A true friend. It never ceased to amaze her that men like Nikolai could inspire such loyalty. Couldn’t they see through the facade?
“Look, Harold—”
“Harper.” The boy shifted and rubbed his arm. “He told me you were bad with names.”
“Harper. I believe in consequences . While I am perfectly willing to heal my students for any injuries they sustain during training, or as the result of an assassination attempt on me—which I thought this was—I am not willing to heal someone senseless enough to poison himself for no good reason. So tell me, what was Nikolai’s reason? And before you answer, consider this: if I remove Stasis now, his heart will stop.”
The boy shot several nervous glances at Nikolai. His mouth opened and then closed again. She took a step forward, hoping it would spur a decision.
“Wait! He had a clue—‘dapper frog’—that was supposed to help solve his, er, problem.”
“Dapper frog?” She frowned. What on earth did—Ohhhhhh .
She called a pillow from the bed and sat next to Nikolai. “Would you mind getting me a glass of water? This is going to take a while.”
* * *
Nikolai groaned and opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize the bedroom, though the decor was Harper’s taste. He sat up and immediately regretted it. The world spun. His fingers clutched the bedsheets as he tried his best not to vomit.
Harper bustled in with a tray and a smile. “You’re up!” He set the tray on the nightstand and felt Nikolai’s forehead. A mop of dark brown curls adorned his head.
“Why am I in your bedroom? And where’s your illusion?”
“I forgot to put it back on, and the other bedroom was, uh, dirty. I had Medea put you in here. Are you well enough for soup?” Harper uncovered a white bowl and steam billowed forth, carrying the scent of beef and vegetables.
Nikolai clutched his head. “Medea was here?”
“She burst in just before you collapsed. It was awful. You were twitching all over, then you went rigid and stopped. If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t know what would have happened. Why didn’t you tell me she had wards on you?” Harper dipped a spoon into the broth, carefully blew on it, and raised it to Nikolai’s mouth.
Nikolai waved the spoon away. “Because I didn’t know. What kind of wards?” Medea had to be using them to track his movements. So that’s how she knew he’d been nosing around the cave.
“She didn’t tell you? They let her know if your health gets low. She thought I’d poisoned you. When she found out what we’d been doing—”
“You told her?!”
Harper absently rubbed his arm. “I didn’t have much choice. She was furious. Almost stopped healing you. Oh, before I forget.” He reached into his jacket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “This is for you.”
Nikolai took the letter—a lecture of course. Medea railed against him for his lack of judgment, and in particular for conducting the experiment without a healer—“If you’d bothered to learn healing spells, it wouldn’t be an issue . . .” He skimmed the rest. It was more of the same. Learn healing, lack of foresight, blah blah. He crumpled the paper and threw it into the wastebasket.
Harper shook his head. “I have to say, from talking to Medea, I don’t think she’s the one who cursed you. She seemed rather concerned, at least until she found out you were licking toads.”
Poor Harper, always so trusting and gullible. “Of course she seemed concerned. She’s not done draining me, or whatever it is she’s doing. That’s why she’s got wards tracking my health. Probably to make sure she doesn’t finish the job too fast.”
“I don’t know, Nikolai . . .”
“You don’t know her like I do. Look, I didn’t want to tell you this before, because you’d only worry, but the woman has a dungeon full of people.”
“What?”
“I know she seems reasonable, but she’s got it in for me, like she’s had for every other apprentice.”
Harper looked at him imploringly and scooted closer. “Then leave. We can figure out the curse once you’re safe.”
“You really think that’s going to stop Medea? She tracked me here, didn’t she? The only way for me to best her is to get rid of this curse. Then I’ll have a fighting chance. I managed to make an invulnerability potion—that should give me an edge in a fight—and I’ve got someone looking into where she hides her magic.”
Harper didn’t look convinced. “How can she be hiding magic?”
“I don’t know, but she does things with magic that no one else can. There’s a cave on her island, and I can feel something back there, something powerful, but I can’t get to it. When I tried, the curse stopped me, and afterward, Medea blocked off the cave.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want you nosing around.”
“She’s hiding something.” Just like Petrov. Two years, and the bastard had a room full of black magic hidden in the shop the whole time. He would not be denied again.
Harper tugged one of his dark curls down his forehead. “Everyone’s hiding something.”
“Are you going to go back to blond?”
“I have to. It’s my stage look.” Harper shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal, but Nikolai knew the truth—he was terrified. “It’s really no different than makeup. But maybe, around friends, I could start taking it off.” He shot Nikolai a pleading glance.
“You can always be yourself around me.”
Harper sighed and stared at his lap. “I know. Even after all these years . . .” He shook his head and closed his eyes, then ran his hands over his hair. The brown curls disappeared, replaced with flaxen gold. When his eyes opened, they were blue again. “I feel safer like this. I know I shouldn’t have to hide, but . . .” He took a shuddering breath.
Nikolai leaned forward and placed a hand on Harper’s shoulder. “You’re safe now. And you know if anyone messes with you, you can come to me, right? Nazis or bad critics, I’ll kill anyone who threatens you.”
Harper chuckled, thinking it a jest.
“I do have a favor to ask.” Nikolai reached for the bowl of stew and took a bite. Heavenly. “Did you tell Medea about the dapper frog?”
Guilt was written all over Harper’s face. “I’m sorry, Nikolai, I had to.”
“It’s fine. Can you let me see it?”
Harper winced. “You’re not going to like how you look.”
“Just visualize it, please. I can go from there.”
As soon as Harper nodded, Nikolai plunged into his mind. Such an odd thing, that someone would allow him access so. Didn’t Harper realize how vulnerable it made him? The thought of what Nikolai could do made him giddy. But Harper was a friend, he would stick with what he needed to know.
Medea glared at Harper, and he could sense his friend’s residual fear at the encounter. Harper glanced behind him, treating Nikolai to a view of his own body splayed in a puddle of vomit.
“Dapper frog?” said Medea. Her expressions were fleeting, but plain as day—confusion, comprehension, then an almost imperceptible nod of the chin. Yoxtl’s vague clue made sense to her. He was on the right track.
“Thank you, Harper.”
“What did you find?”
“The clue is real. It’s just not a literal frog.”
Harper pursed his lips. “Maybe it’s a plant. Know any botanists?”
Nikolai smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do.”