Blackwell spent what felt like hours poring over Rochelle’s sketches, though it was probably only thirty minutes. When he emerged from the RV, he stumbled on the first step at the sight of the small army arrayed around the bonfire Beau had built.
Good. He should be scared.
Of course, the members of that small army were all roasting hot dogs, which wasn’t exactly an act of aggression. And half of them were veggie anyway.
Audrey and Henry had returned from the woods moments after Kandy. The beta reverted to her human form and changed into a tailored collared shirt and slim dress pants, though she remained barefoot. The sorcerer was still in his bitten werewolf form, but he’d happily retrieved his cowboy hat before hunkering down by the fire.
I was surprised that Audrey didn’t instantly end up with her teeth at the sorcerer’s throat. Though it had been Sienna who’d killed her pack mate Jeremy, Blackwell had been instrumental in setting the stage and luring us into Sienna’s trap in the Sea Lion Caves in Oregon.
However, the incident in Mississippi with Rochelle and Beau — which had concluded with Kandy biting Henry — had indebted the pack to Blackwell in some significant way. Apparently, the sorcerer had been helpful. I wouldn’t call whatever was going on a truce. But no one was rushing to murder anyone else in the deep night in Westport, Washington.
It was a shame.
Blackwell smirked annoyingly, covering for his moment of hesitation as he descended the steps.
I returned my pissy gaze to the fire as he moved away from the RV. I was going to have to void my practically oath-sworn feud with the evil bastard. If he actually knew the location of the door Rochelle thought we were seeking, then he’d be stupid to settle for anything less. For all his darkness, Blackwell wasn’t a moron. He’d probably demand more from me, and I’d have to give it to him. I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to agree to an open-ended favor in order to move forward with our task.
The oracle hovered in the doorway of the Brave. “Henry?” she asked worriedly.
The bitten werewolf was crouched on all fours between Kandy and Audrey at the edge of the bonfire. He was gobbling raw hot dogs, though he couldn’t quite keep them in his mouth while eating. In response to Rochelle’s voice, he straightened, offering the oracle a toothy grin.
Rochelle looked appropriately terrified by his appearance.
Beau slipped out from the shadows between the cabin and the RV. He hadn’t joined us at the fire, other than to offer Kandy the hot dogs to roast, along with various condiments sourced from the Brave. Then he’d fiddled with the broken hinge on the door of the Brave until it closed but still didn’t properly latch. He reached out to Rochelle and she stepped down beside him. She’d pulled a black, puffy ski jacket on over her hoodie.
“The marshal came to see you, but …” Beau’s explanation trailed off as his attention snagged on something behind us.
I didn’t have to turn to taste the peppermint drifting toward me from the sparsely wooded area between the bonfire and the house to the south. Instead, I looked up at the sorcerer, just in time to see Blackwell’s expression twist to a grimace that he quickly smoothed over.
“Kettil.” The sorcerer acknowledged the approaching vampire with a nod.
“Sorcerer,” Kett replied coolly. He crossed to stand a couple of feet behind me.
I laughed harshly. Truthfully, the vampire’s unpredictability was really only amusing when it wasn’t directly affecting me. But I couldn’t help feeling pleased that Blackwell might be worried about whether he was moments from death.
Capturing a vampire as old as Kett in a fog spell — as Blackwell had done while defending his castle from our entry two years ago — might cause that vampire to hold a grudge. It also might garner a certain amount of respect. But respect from a vampire could turn to dismemberment with a misspoken word or a misplaced gesture. Gran called that ‘hanging on tenterhooks.’
Beside me, Drake shoved a third hot dog into the bun he’d slathered with mayo, ketchup, and mustard — along with copious amounts of sand. Then he inhaled the concoction.
Yeah, I wasn’t big on eating outside. Unless the seaside patio came with umbrellas, heat lamps, and proper tableware, of course.
“Perhaps introductions are in order?” Blackwell asked.
“No,” Kett said.
I swallowed a smirk, straightening from the fire to face the sorcerer. “We all know you.”
“I won’t work with nameless mercenaries.”
Warner rose from beside me, eyed the sorcerer, then turned his back on him. I gathered he was opting to walk the perimeter rather than negotiate with Blackwell.
“I don’t like relying on such an ambivalent soul,” Drake said. His tone was completely benign, though he had just accused Blackwell of being morally challenged. “Is there another way, oracle? Another who can show us our path?”
A vein in Blackwell’s forehead pulsed, just once. But it was probably a bad thing that I noticed. I was bloodthirsty when it came to the sorcerer. And also completely aware that I blamed him for things that had most likely been out of his control. Sienna had been beyond all of our control. Even after I’d drained her magic, right up until the moment Desmond had stepped in … until she wasn’t anything anymore.
Still, it was easier to hold grudges than admit that I was willfully blind to the faults of the people I loved.
Rochelle squeezed Beau’s hand, then loosened her grip to reach out for Drake, beckoning him away from the fire and the hot dogs. “Shall we walk?” she asked. The white of her oracle magic rolled across her eyes.
The fledgling guardian moved to her side so quickly that Blackwell belatedly flinched and stumbled to one side.
“Rochelle,” Beau said. “The dowser said we should move, and quickly.”
The oracle wrapped her hand around Drake’s as she gazed lovingly up at her mate. “I hear you, Beau. But I doubt anyone is coming through them.”
Her ‘them’ was heavy with layers of emotion. Fear. Awe. And a tiny bit of satisfaction. Smugness, even. The oracle might look like a wispy thing, but she had a backbone. Which was good, because anyone friendly with Blackwell was going to need a spine.
With Beau close behind them, Drake and Rochelle turned to walk through the short stretch of wild grass at the edge of the beach. I briefly wondered what Rochelle wanted to show Drake, but I kept my focus on Blackwell.
Blackwell glanced around. “I know the enforcer, the bitten sorcerer, who I’m glad to see survived, and the vampire …” he prompted.
I sneered. “Always ready to deal, aren’t you, Blackwell?”
“How is what you do any different, Jade?” he said smoothly. His use of my name was pointedly intimate.
I forced the delightful image of ‘accidentally’ shoulder-checking the sorcerer into the bonfire out of my head. “This is Audrey, beta of the West Coast North American Pack.”
Audrey bared her teeth in Blackwell’s direction. He nodded, offering her a tight smile.
“You’ve met Drake.” I nodded toward the trio of moonlit figures on the beach. “Warner is … checking the perimeter.”
“Drake and Warner who?” Blackwell asked.
I took a step closer to the sorcerer, seeing firelight dancing in the whites of his almost-black eyes. Kett closed the space behind me. “Do you know the location of the door?”
“I will. I believe I’ve seen a section of it before. The flower and leaf motif is distinct. Perhaps in an ancestor’s journal. I’ll have to visit the library at Blackness Castle to confirm.”
“Drake is apprenticed to Chi Wen, the far seer of the guardian nine.” I paused, waiting for the sorcerer to react.
He tilted his head in acknowledgement but gave nothing else away. It seemed a safe bet that he knew all about the far seer through Rochelle.
“Warner is the son of Jiaotu-who-was. Sentinel of the instruments of assassination.”
Blackwell hissed excitedly.
The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up.
“So they do exist,” he whispered, speaking more to himself than me.
I didn’t answer.
“Is that what lies behind the door, warrior’s daughter?” Blackwell’s smile as he voiced my title was a brief flash of white in the dark night.
Again, I declined to answer. I’d done the introductions as he’d stipulated. Now it was his turn.
“The information is relevant to my … recollection,” he said, forcing the point.
“How?” Kett asked.
Blackwell glanced from me to the vampire, then back again. “I don’t believe we’ve defined the terms of my participation in your hunt.”
“Make your pitch,” I said coldly.
Blackwell curled one corner of his mouth into a smirk. Then he thoughtfully cast his gaze over the fire toward the beach.
Drake and Rochelle stood a few feet back from the low surf, the fledgling’s dark head bent toward the oracle. Beau was a few feet off to the side, his face lifted to the moon. He took the form of a tiger, so I wasn’t sure whether the moon held any sway over him as it did the wolves. As it seriously did with Henry.
“What destinies do you suppose she whispers in his ear?” Blackwell mused.
I looked at him sharply. “You bargain with me, sorcerer, and me only. I speak for no one else.”
“Except to guarantee my safety on our … excursion.”
“No one can guarantee that,” Kett said. “Not for any of us. Also, we haven’t agreed that you will be joining our hunt.” His cool words were ominous.
“I believe the oracle has made that part of our agreement preemptively binding,” Blackwell said smugly. “Jade, you will keep your companions in check. I will not have a blade at my neck … metaphorically or literally … during our collaboration.”
“Fine,” I said.
“I’ll get you to the door depicted in the oracle’s sketches, if I can. But after that, my participation will have to be renegotiated. I won’t jeopardize my life … or liberty.”
I snorted. “As expected.”
“And you specifically, Jade Godfrey,” the sorcerer continued, “you will drop your vendetta.”
I snorted. “You can’t make me like you, Blackwell.”
“I’m simply tired of watching my back.”
“I highly doubt I’m the only one who hates you.”
“Be that as it may.”
The sorcerer said nothing else. Waiting for my response.
I glanced over to the beach. Rochelle and Beau were standing alone now at the water’s edge, the rippling surf only inches from their sneakered feet. Drake had slipped away somewhere, though he was near enough that I could still taste his magic.
“Vancouver is off-limits. I see you there, and any truce is void.” I didn’t bother to look at Blackwell as I addressed him. I had known he was going to ask for a clean slate. But I didn’t have to accept that stipulation without conditions.
“I could demand the same for all of Scotland,” he said.
“You could,” I whispered. “But could you enforce it?” I turned to meet his gaze.
He didn’t immediately back down. Which wasn’t particularly surprising. He was always ballsy.
Then he nodded. “I have no need or wish to visit Vancouver.”
“I shall no longer hold the crimes of my sister against you, Blackwell,” I said.
The sorcerer smiled. I sensed genuine gratitude in the expression, but that didn’t stop me wanting it wiped from his gaunt face.
“But we’re not friends,” I added. “Eventually you’ll do something, break some rule. And I’ll be there, waiting, to exact justice when you step over the line.”
“It’s not your place to enforce my choices.”
“And who will you complain to, sorcerer? Who has your back?”
Blackwell stiffened, then lifted his chin. “You’ll answer to the Convocation. And to the Guardian Council itself.”
I snorted. “Good luck getting justice from either.”
Blackwell bristled. Finally. “I happen to know that Suanmi, the guardian of Western Europe, is not a fan of yours.”
I laughed. “You might want to update your records, sorcerer. Or did I fail to mention the second part of Drake’s title? He’s the fire breather’s ward.” Despite my bravado, my stomach curdled in anticipation of the looming, inevitable confrontation with Suanmi.
Blackwell glanced over to the beach, then around the immediate area. He flinched as Drake — possibly summoned by my use of his name — appeared at my left elbow.
“We’ve stayed too long,” the fledgling guardian said. “The sorcerer has already indicated that the information regarding the door the oracle saw us standing before resides in his library. I suggest we go.”
Blackwell opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off.
“That’s hundreds of books. Even with Kett with us, it might take weeks to narrow our focus.”
“There are many doors in this world,” Kett said agreeably.
Drake spun away. I felt sorry for him. Chi Wen was his mentor, and even though the far seer could be rather oblique — even inconsistent — in his teachings, the fledgling wasn’t accustomed to waiting around.
I glanced behind me to watch Drake walk away. Warner wandered out of the trees beyond the cabin and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. Then the sentinel leaned back against the green SUV parked in the driveway, standing guard as always.
“Who are you hunting, warrior’s daughter?” Blackwell asked.
“What makes you think I’m hunting anyone?”
“Your company, of course. Warriors all. Strong, fierce … and impetuous.”
Kett chuckled. No one was less impetuous than an elder vampire … as long as he wasn’t bored, according to Warner.
Blackwell glanced around the area again, thinking out loud. “Or perhaps I’ve misread the force gathered around you. Perhaps you are the hunted.”
“Let’s get on with it, Blackwell,” I said. “You have a journal to retrieve. And I assume you don’t want us ripping through your wards and ransacking your library.”
“You are undeniably correct.” Blackwell tapped his amulet underneath his shirt. I wondered if he wore it constantly, as I did with my necklace. “Care to accompany me, Jade?”
He held his hand out toward me.
“No freaking way.”
“Perhaps I shall accompany you,” Kett said. “To make sure you stay on task.”
Blackwell looked momentarily ill at the idea of being accompanied by the vampire. Then he smiled tightly. “It shouldn’t take me more than a few hours to follow up on my suspicions. I stumbled across something a few months ago, which leads me to believe I’m already halfway there.”
He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a metal rune. A rune that looked like a decapitated stick figure.
It was an exact replica of the runes we’d found on the corpses littered throughout the temple of the braids in Hope Town. It was how we’d identified the skeletons as belonging to a sect of eternal-life sorcerers. A sect that Shailaja had apparently created — and which she had certainly sacrificed to manifest her shadow demon buddies.
“Where did you find that?” I whispered.
Blackwell flipped the rune in his hand, then immediately slipped it back into his pocket. “Is it connected to your current hunt?”
“Only obliquely,” Kett replied smoothly.
I had filled the vampire in regarding the story of how Kandy, Warner, and I collected the braids. I couldn’t remember mentioning the runes specifically, but the vampire had a fantastic memory.
“I come from a long line of sorcerers,” Blackwell said. “My collection is centuries old.”
“That still doesn’t explain you connecting it to our particular request.”
“You should pay more attention to the oracle’s sketches, dowser,” Blackwell said. “Rochelle’s gifts don’t frighten me as much as they apparently frighten you.”
He was challenging me, but I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I put together the pieces and shoved them back in his smug face. “So some granddaddy of yours was an eternal lifer. He was part of a sect of sorcerers seeking the instruments of assassination. Obviously, Rochelle sketched the rune. When? About a year ago? And it reminded you of what? A book? Then you found the rune in your collection.”
Blackwell stuck out his chin. Apparently, he didn’t like me undercutting his power play.
I laughed, then turned to Kett. “If you want to join him, I can’t stop you.”
Kett quirked his lips in a smile. Then he reached over to place his hand on Blackwell’s shoulder. In the moonlight, his pale skin was a sharp contrast to the sorcerer’s dark suit.
“I assume you aren’t staying?” Kett cast his gaze toward the fire and the Brave.
“Well, you know how much I adore camping.”
“Keep me apprised of your location,” the vampire said. “Sorcerer?”
Blackwell nodded. He swallowed, then brushed his fingers against his amulet.
Magic bloomed, tangling my hair. Then they were gone.
“First friend of yours I haven’t particularly liked.” Warner’s voice cut through the moonlit darkness between us.
Drake snickered as he crossed out of the woods to join the sentinel.
“Did you see the rune?” I asked, crossing to join Warner by the SUV.
He nodded, not at all pleased.
“It can’t be one of the ones we collected,” I said, attempting to reassure myself. “That would be way too obvious. Right? I mean, I’d love there to be a connection between the rabid koala and the evil jerk. So there’s probably no chance of that.”
Warner snorted, grinning at me. Ah, it was sweet when your boyfriend thought your homicidal side was cute.
The firelight flickered behind me, then died. I turned to see Beau dousing it with sand. Audrey was speaking to him in hushed tones.
Behind them, Henry — still in his bitten werewolf form — climbed into the RV. The Brave swayed underneath his weight. Rochelle was already inside and putting things away in the kitchen cupboards, preparing to leave.
Kandy jogged out from behind the cabin. She’d retrieved a backpack from the black SUV, presumably containing yet another change of clothing.
“Um … Henry?” I asked.
“He’ll be fine. They’re friends.”
“Yeah, but they could have left the fire.”
“We might as well get some food. Old toothy has a cellphone.”
“You just ate.”
“You didn’t.” Kandy crossed around to open the back hatch of the green SUV. Drake wandered after her.
Audrey sauntered over to us, carrying her high-heel pumps in one hand. Other than her change of clothing, I saw no evidence of her recent transformation. The dark-haired beauty was seriously annoying that way. I was already grubby, and I hadn’t turned into a monster and gone romping through the woods.
“Henry and I will stay with the oracle. We’ll head back to Portland,” Audrey said.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I know Rochelle prefers the coast.”
“The pack will be pleased.” She flashed her white teeth in my direction, then smirked.
“Delightful. I’m always so pleased to please the pack.”
Audrey laughed huskily, then abruptly returned to her all-business-no-fun tone. “Kandy will accompany you, to protect the pack’s interests.”
I raised my eyebrows at the beta.
She lowered her voice. “We’re waiting for the sorcerer to step out of line. The connection between him and the oracle must be severed. The sooner the better.”
“Ah. Kandy will keep you posted?”
“Kandy will enforce, as is her duty.” Audrey eyed the back of the Ford Escape over my shoulder, then pitched her voice unnecessarily louder. “Plus, she’s driving me crazy. Whining does not become a werewolf.”
Kandy snarled an answer, then climbed into the back seat without further addressing her beta.
Audrey returned her attention to me. “The pack thanks you for including us in this matter.”
“Right. I’m happy to be helpful.”
The beta turned back to the RV without another word.
Warner snorted, then crossed around our vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Beau had temporarily rigged the door to the Brave, creating a latch with a bungee cord from the inside. Audrey tossed her car keys in the air toward him as she climbed into the RV. He caught the keys without question or pause. Then, with a nod in my direction, he headed toward the Escalade parked behind the cabin.
“Beau,” I called after him.
He paused, looking over his shoulder at me but not turning around.
“If you ever need anything,” I said.
“We know where to find you.”
“Right. Okay.” I wanted to say something more about Blackwell, and to apologize again for forcing a move on them. Beau wasn’t interested, though, so I just added, “Drive safely.”
He nodded, then jogged the rest of the way to the Escalade.
Through the windows of the Brave, I saw Rochelle slip into the driver’s seat while Audrey joined her on the passenger side. I couldn’t see Henry, but I assumed he was sprawled out on the back bed.
A shadow shifted above a tree branch at the edge of my peripheral vision, then stilled. I didn’t need to turn my head or judge the angle of the moonlight to know it shouldn’t be there. I brushed my fingers lovingly along the invisible blade strapped to my right hip, waiting for the perfect moment to draw and skewer the shadow leech watching me from the darkness.
“I found a waffle place!” Kandy yelled from the back seat.
“Waffles?” Drake asked. “Show me.”
The shadow disappeared.
“Come on, Jade,” my werewolf best friend groused. “The dragon doesn’t know what waffles are. You can mope about doing a deal with a devil while we eat.”
I laughed despite myself. Apparently, I was as transparent as plastic wrap over chocolate pudding. I climbed into the passenger seat without further delay. We were blocking the driveway.
“Whipped cream and strawberries?” Drake crowed. “Yes, please!”
I glanced over at Warner, who was waiting for an okay from me. I offered him a blazing smile and buckled my seat belt. “Kandy always knows best.”
“So true,” Kandy said. “So, so true. There’s always time for waffles … and cupcakes. But apparently, you didn’t bring any of those.”
I laughed, trailing my fingers over the back of Warner’s hand and wrist as he put the SUV into reverse. “Maybe they’ll have cherries and shaved chocolate.”
“You know where to find those.” Warner leered at me as he backed the SUV out of the driveway. “Anytime, anywhere.”
Kandy gagged comically in the back seat. “Tone down the PDA, would you?”
I glanced back at the green-haired werewolf.
She grinned.
God, I was glad to have her back.
Apparently, the local diner Kandy had decided desperately needed our patronage closed at 3:30 p.m. Then the werewolf quickly discovered that everything else within a hundred-mile radius also closed in the early afternoon on a Saturday in January.
Which was how we found ourselves — blurry eyed and grumpy — waiting outside Sweet Iron in Seattle, Washington, at six o’clock in the damn morning.
Okay, I might have been exaggerating about the lack of sustenance on the West Coast. And there might have been some further conversation along the way. But I finally succumbed to the sweet oblivion of intensely needed sleep and Kandy got her waffle wish fulfilled … all the long way to Seattle.
At least it wasn’t raining. Yet.
Also, Kett and Blackwell hadn’t returned.
We’d arrived in the city around midnight, then slept in shifts in an underground parking lot a few blocks from the waffle place. Or rather, I slept until Kandy hauled me out of the SUV and dragged me through the hushed, darkened streets to the diner.
As the city woke around us, I begrudgingly admitted that from the exterior, Sweet Iron appeared to have been worth the drive and the wait. The classic Belgian waffle place was situated on the ground floor of a refurbished sandstone-brick building, just in from the corner of Third Avenue and Seneca Street. It was easily within walking distance of the Inn at the Market, where I stayed whenever I attended the Northwest Chocolate Festival. However, with so much yumminess to consume in Seattle, it apparently hadn’t popped up on my radar yet.
Drake returned from circling the block. The fledgling was having trouble staying still, but patrolling under Warner’s watchful gaze seemed to keep him fairly settled. “The sign says the restaurant doesn’t open on Sundays until 8 a.m.”
“What?” I mumbled, really not awake or at all ready for bad news yet.
“Never mind,” Kandy said, shifting eagerly back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I called in a favor. Six was the earliest they’d open, though. Donation or no donation.”
The interior lights flicked on in the diner. A silver-haired man began bustling around the open kitchen behind the glass display counters and cash register.
“You called in a favor and made a donation … for waffles?” I asked.
Warner snorted.
“These aren’t just any waffles, dowser,” the green-haired werewolf said gleefully. “You’ll be thanking me in about ten minutes. Plus it was a tax write-off for a kid’s foundation. That’s doubly worth it.”
“You know best,” I said. We weren’t exactly blazing trails to the instrument of assassination, and if Kandy wanted waffles along the way, I wasn’t going to argue.
“Always.”
A group of club-weary twentysomethings stumbled around the far corner, supporting each other and approaching us on unsteady feet.
“Hey!” a guy in the middle of the group exclaimed. “Are they opening early?”
His friends whooped in delight.
“Keep moving, bub.” Kandy curled her lip in a snarl.
The group of friends completely ignored her, stumbling over to form a neat line beside us on the sidewalk. Kandy muttered nastily underneath her breath, but didn’t make a scene.
And in the few minutes we waited in the predawn, a long line formed around us. No one even batted an eyelash at our outfits. I could only imagine that we all looked as though we were coming off a hard night of clubbing. Though what club Drake and Warner in their dragon leathers might be coming from, I wasn’t sure.
A female employee wedged open the glassed entrance door, releasing the delectable scent of fresh-baked waffles into our eager nostrils. Kandy moaned softly, then began shifting from sneakered foot to sneakered foot. The half-awake employee slowly placed two sets of metal tables and chairs in front of the windows. She had a black semicolon tattooed behind her ear, representing mental health awareness. So I instantly liked her, of course.
Though I seriously hoped there was more seating inside. My aversion to eating in the great outdoors extended to perching on metal chairs in the middle of January.
“She’s not an Adept,” I whispered to Kandy. “I thought you called in a favor?”
The green-haired werewolf grinned at me. “The vampire isn’t the only one with secret ways.”
The employee slipped back inside, allowing the door to close behind her. She turned on the red neon ‘Open’ sign as she crossed back behind the counter that ran the length of the interior of the cafe.
Kandy was inside before the door clicked closed, practically pressing herself against the glass case that shielded piles of hot-off-the-iron waffles from general pawing. We stumbled in after the werewolf.
The menu on the blackboard behind the counter listed a half-dozen sweet and savory options. The diner was simply furnished, with smooth white particleboard tables and white plastic scoop-backed chairs supported on thin metal legs.
“We’ll take three of each,” Kandy said to the guy behind the cash register. “Plus two coffees, four waters, and an orange juice.”
The cashier looked aghast, then cast his gaze at the line forming along the counter behind the green-haired werewolf. “Sorry? Three of which?”
“Three of each option.” Kandy carefully and bitingly enunciated each word. “Chocolate dipped, sweet, and savory. Just bring them as you build them.”
I snagged two of the two-seater tables, tugging them together in the farthest corner away from the door. The other customers scrambled to fill the tables and chairs around me.
“We’ll lose our place,” I said, hissing at Drake and Warner, who were still gazing up at the menu.
They appeared seriously confused at the mayhem happening over the seating. Apparently, dragons didn’t get the concept of fighting for feeding rights.
“Warner, Kandy is ordering for us.” I waved him toward the chair I’d squeezed into the corner by the window. I figured it was the only seat that allowed enough space for his shoulders.
Kandy slapped three hundred-dollar bills onto the counter.
“We just opened. I don’t have change for that,” the cashier stuttered.
“Just keep them coming and let me know if that runs out.” Then she grabbed the bottles of water and the orange juice that the female employee had already placed beside the cash register, turning away from the counter to smile at me.
The older man, whistling merrily away, was systematically filling, then closing, six waffle irons in the kitchen. I knew from experience that his white apron was doomed to be splattered in batter while he dealt with the morning crush.
I missed my bakery. No matter how much work it was every day, I loved opening to a line at the door on a Saturday or Sunday morning.
Kandy’s phone pinged as she pressed through the half dozen or so bodies between our table and the cashier. She dumped the waters and the juice in Drake’s arms to check her messages.
In an epic juggling feat, the fledgling guardian managed to catch all five bottles before they could strike the white-tiled floor.
I laughed. All those years of dragon training put to perfect use.
“BRB,” Kandy said. She shouldered her way back through the crowd blocking the door. Once outside, she stepped off the sidewalk and took a picture of the front of the waffle place. Then she jogged up to the corner to snap a shot of the street signs.
“BRB?” Warner asked. He reached across the table to relieve the female employee — Rachel, now that her name tag was close enough to read — of three of the four plates she was carrying.
Drake snagged the fourth plate, consuming one of the chocolate-covered waffles before he’d lowered himself into the chair across from me.
“It’s short for ‘be right back,’ ” I said, wondering what the werewolf was doing. “Oooo, they brought the sweet portion of the menu first.”
Two years of serious dragon training, and I was still easily distracted.
After appreciating the pretty piles of waffles covered in chocolate, powdered sugar, strawberries, and whipped cream, I braved the crowd to collect forks and napkins from the self-serve kiosk.
Kandy appeared at my elbow, reaching past me as she grabbed cream and sugar for her coffee.
“Pictures?” I asked, turning back to the table.
Kandy dug into a waffle covered in berry compote before she settled into the seat beside Drake. “Sorcerer needed them,” she said around bites. “Is there syrup?”
She elbowed Drake. He levered himself out of his chair and negotiated the crowd in search of golden nectar.
I handed a fork and napkin to Warner, then dropped the rest of the pile at the edge of the table nearest the window. They were less likely to be knocked off there by the feeding frenzy.
Two of the four plates were already empty.
“They’re on their way, then?” Warner asked.
Kandy nodded, reaching for a waffle covered in bruleed bananas, caramel, and whipped cream.
Drake returned with the syrup.
I started laughing.
Everyone ignored me.
Kandy, Warner, and Drake continued eating. The customers continued ordering. And food continued to be delivered.
And I laughed.
Shailaja had kidnapped Chi Wen with a sword whose magic was a product of my own alchemy. We were tracking the final instrument of assassination to lure her out. We were waiting on a vampire and sorcerer to return with some clue to some temple, which was most likely filled with magical devices primed to kill anyone who attempted to enter it without the secret password.
But first, we were eating waffles.
I wiped tears from my cheeks, my laughter abating to a pained chuckle. Warner squeezed my knee underneath the table.
“Good waffles,” Drake said. Every ounce of his attention was focused on scooping up as much of the syrup pooling on his plate as he could before shoveling a final bite into his mouth.
“Yep,” Kandy said agreeably.
I quashed a second round of inappropriate laughter. “I’m okay,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.
“You’re the only one who doubts it, dowser,” Kandy said.
Rachel loomed over Drake’s left shoulder with more waffles. The savory plates were topped with bacon, brie, and basil; prosciutto, creme fraiche, and green onions; and herbed goat cheese, hazelnuts, and honey. She eyed the fifteen-year-old appreciatively while she swapped out our empty plates. He didn’t notice. But then, most people found bacon distracting.
“Hey!” I said to Drake. “It’s your birthday soon.”
“Tomorrow.” The fledgling grinned at me from across the table.
I nodded, finally smiling for a nonhysterical reason. “We’ll head back to the bakery as soon as we can.”
“And you’ll bake me whatever I want?”
“Within reason.”
“Whose reason? Yours or mine?”
Kandy barked out a laugh.
Then the vampire and the sorcerer walked into the diner.
They got stared at.
We were crammed into the corner like club rejects, but it was Kett’s pale, arresting looks — swathed in pricy jeans and tan cashmere — alongside Blackwell’s naturally jet-black hair and custom-fitted charcoal suit that muted the conversation around us.
At first glance, the two appeared to be complete opposites … but then … not. Blackwell would have made a good vampire … depending on what ‘good’ meant in that context. And Kett had wielded magic before he’d been turned. I had always assumed he’d been a witch, but he might well have been a sorcerer.
Their magic was completely different. Kett’s dark-tinged peppermint was embedded in every pore of his skin, even as Blackwell’s earthy Cabernet hung back, waiting to be pooled into orbs of navy-blue magic — a blue so dark it was almost black. But they were twins in demeanor and cool charisma. Though obviously, Kett had centuries of practice over the sorcerer. Plus the whole immortality thing.
Blackwell glanced around the waffle place. I would have expected him to be disdainful, but he was carefully neutral.
Kett snagged two more chairs, practically stealing one as its occupant vacated it. She whirled around in surprise. He winked at her and she giggled.
Giggled.
At a vampire.
At an uber-powerful vampire … who she had no idea was a deadly predator.
No wonder my head was always screwed up. I kept trying to live an Adept life in a human world, and that was just … skewed.
Kandy shifted her chair closer to the window, then elbowed Drake to snug up against her. Kett placed the two extra chairs between the fledgling and me, but six people really didn’t fit well around two tiny tables.
“Coffee?” Blackwell touched Rachel’s elbow lightly as she flew toward us with more food. She blushed, nodded at the sorcerer, and deposited another four plates in front of us. In addition to chocolate-dipped waffles, this sweet batch featured Nutella and ice cream, which itself was covered in caramel, chocolate sauce, and peanuts like a waffle sundae.
I sighed. Apparently, only I saw terrifying monsters wherever I looked. Which probably said more about my outlook than anyone else’s.
I was losing count of how much Warner, Drake, and Kandy had eaten. But I hadn’t had a chocolate-dipped waffle yet, so I snagged one.
Sure, we were pretty much convening a war council, but I was good about keeping my priorities straight. You never knew when you might be consuming the last waffles of your life.
Kett sat down beside me. His knee pressed tightly against mine so that he didn’t have to touch Blackwell on the other side.
No one spoke.
As I ate my waffle, I realized suddenly that I was the one everyone was waiting on. When did I get put in charge? That was seriously wack.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“China,” Blackwell said, pulling a leather-bound brown book filled with rough-edged pages out of his suit pocket.
Drake focused on the sorcerer over a plate of waffles topped by roasted turkey breast, Havarti, and raspberry jam. China was Chi Wen’s territory. “The final instrument lies in China?” he asked quietly.
Rachel appeared over the sorcerer’s shoulder. Blackwell shifted the thick journal out of the way so she could place his coffee down on the only available wedge of table.
“Thank you,” he murmured. She followed through with cream and sugar, then reluctantly retreated to tend her other customers.
“China is an exceedingly large country,” Warner said.
Blackwell nodded as he made a slow show of adding cream and sugar to his coffee, carefully stirring between additions.
Annoyed, I looked at Kett. “What’s to stop us from forcibly taking the journal from him?”
“It’s warded,” Blackwell replied smoothly. “Keyed along ancestral lines.”
I snorted. “Not a problem.”
Kett, whose gaze was fixed out the window, cracked a grin. “It’s written in a runed language.”
“How long would it take us to decipher?”
“Too long.”
Damn it.
“Kettil and I have already had this discussion.”
“Old toothy doesn’t speak for all of us,” Kandy snapped.
Blackwell ignored her. “I will be accompanying you.”
Warner pushed his empty plate away, leaning back in his chair with his gaze fixed to the sorcerer.
Blackwell swallowed, reaching for his coffee to cover his wariness.
“It’s difficult to play cat and mouse with dragons,” I said, pitching my voice low but cheerful.
“Indeed,” Blackwell replied. “But I’m not playing. I don’t have an exact location. My ancestors were armed with charts of the night sky, not GPS.”
“Unhelpful in the wrong season,” Warner said.
“Obviously, China as a country was distinct even then. That much is clear.”
“The Himalayas are difficult to mislabel,” Kett said wryly.
Blackwell winced almost imperceptibly. All that attempt at buildup, and the vampire had stolen his finish. “Indeed. A solid landmark by which to guide our journey.”
“What is it with the freaking mountain ranges?” I muttered with a glance at Warner.
“All the better to hide massive magical makings,” he said, offering me a wry grin.
“Other clues in the text should get us farther along, but we need an entry point,” Kett said.
I slipped my hand in my satchel to finger the dragonskin map. I didn’t want to pull it out in front of Blackwell or draw the shadow demons to us, though the nonmagicals in the diner would be immune to their leechlike tendencies. But I was hopeful that I would be able to get it working once we were in China. Figuring out the country was key in my previous experiences of hunting the instruments. Then narrowing it down to the nearest portal, and triggering the map. Question was, should I try to ditch the sorcerer before then?
“Transportation?” I finally said.
As I’d expected, everyone eyed the sorcerer. Blackwell sipped his coffee sedately.
“Grid point portal?” I said with a sigh.
The evil sorcerer presumably knew all about dragons and guardians and portals anyway. We couldn’t all just sit around in a waffle place silently plotting against him while not moving forward.
“No,” Kett said.
“I doubt the sorcerer would survive the trip,” Warner said, delivering the threat amicably.
“Airplane?”
“Amulet?” Blackwell countered with a sly grin.
“All have drawbacks,” Warner said.
Kandy swiped her finger through a mixture of powdered sugar and maple syrup on her plate, then licked her finger clean. She leaned back and held up four fingers in Rachel’s direction. “We’ll take four dozen of the chocolate-dipped to go.”
“Right,” I said. “By jet, then.”
Blackwell stiffened in protest. “I won’t travel by any mundane mode of transport with …” He trailed off, making his point without outing the dragons sitting around the table with us.
“Then you can teleport ahead and wait for us, sorcerer,” I said blithely. “We’ll happily plot behind your back for the … what? Twelve or so hours it takes to fly there?”
I glanced at Kett. He nodded.
“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho,” I sang under my breath as I got up from the table. “It’s off to work we go.”
Kandy laughed, shoving past the sorcerer when he didn’t move quickly enough. Slipping her arm through mine, she threw her head back and — terribly off key — belted the remainder of the Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs song at the top of her lungs.
By the time we settled the bill, grabbed the to-go containers, and made a beeline for the door, Kandy had the entire diner singing.
Apparently, tasty waffles made everyone happy.
Good to know.