FORTY-FOUR
Diamond awoke Saturday to discover the strangers who’d been crowding the outskirts of her property had dispersed, and hourly reports were coming in from the business district. By all accounts, the exposé had worked. The cloud of concern looming over the city had lifted, and the citizens’ moods had bounced back. All three tiers bustled with business, and the tourists who’d been staying in Avasummus until the dome was investigated were flooding through the entrance tunnel.
Fae’s Frozen Fare had to hire extra help to keep up with the influx of customers, many of whom lingered in the Central Market, chatting about the article while hoping for a glimpse of its subject. This gave the Crusaders’ spy ring a chance to eavesdrop on the gossip, which wasn’t always positive, as some people had yet to determine if a witch with such immense power could be trusted, but the majority believed Layla’s statement about the dome. They respected her right to defend herself against the likes of Agro, and either out of intrigue, fear or reverence, they were willing to let her stay in their city.
A meet and greet was scheduled for that morning, and though Quin insisted Layla could cancel, she refused. Instead, she doubled the length of time she usually spent in the sanctuary, and she still had to turn people away.
After another intense training session at the Arena, she returned to the cottage for lunch. Then she donned makeup and a designer gown to go get ice cream.
City guards had to part the crowd in the Central Market for her to reach Fae’s cart, and many of the onlookers waved copies of the Chronicle at her, asking for her autograph.
Layla profusely thanked Fae while getting a chocolate ice cream cone. Then she told Drexel to find a place where she could sit and sign the scrolls.
Her hand cramped by the time the line thinned, but the ache and inconvenience paid off when a little girl around five approached and unrolled her copy of the exposé.
Her bright, green eyes were wide with wonder as they took in Layla’s aura, and an excited grin curved her adorably pouty lips as she laid her little arms on the table and leaned forward. “My momma says you’re proof girls are powerful and smart and can do anything, even fight the bad guys.” She stretched out a hand and touched a tiny finger to the parchment. “Will you write to the girl who can do anything? I need it so my brother will stop treating me like a baby and let me save him when we play pretend.”
Layla stifled a laugh, but she didn’t hold back her grin. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Dianea,” she proudly answered. Then she proceeded to spell it without having to be asked.
Layla basked in the child’s innocence while writing the inscription. Then she spun the paper around for her approval.
“For Dianea,” the child read, pointing out the words as she went, “the girl who can do anything, including fight the bad guys. Love, Layla Callaway.” She beamed and hopped. “Oh, thank you so much!”
“You’re very welcome,” Layla returned. Then she motioned for her to wait as she asked Quin to purchase some flowers from a nearby vendor. Once she had the blooms in hand, she separated them into two bouquets and handed them to Dianea one at a time. “One is for you, and I want you to give the other to your mom. There’s no better ally for a smart and strong girl than a good mom, and it sounds like you have a great one.”
“I do,” she enthusiastically confirmed. “She’ll love them. I love them! Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Layla countered, her spirits lifted and her energy renewed.
She continued signing Chronicles and other paraphernalia until Drexel closed the line. Then she and her family escaped to Sawyer’s pub for a break.
“I think it went well,” Layla decided, letting Quin order her a stiff drink.
“Are you kidding?” Drexel countered. “That was magnificent.” He slapped the bar, making a rare exception as he treated himself to a shot while on the job.
“He’s right,” Quin agreed, urging Layla to relax into his side. “You were magnificent. Watching you work is like watching a goddess wing bloom beneath morning dew.”
“He speaks in poetry,” Sawyer laughed, sliding over their drinks. “Is that the key to winning an angel’s heart?”
Layla giggled through a sip that warmed her throat and belly. “It doesn’t hurt.” Then the light shifted as a smooth and masculine voice floated across the room.
“When men doth quell and quake within her light, I am the one who will rise up and fight. My guard must hold ’til I can see her through. Until the bitter end, I shall be true.”
Layla spun around on her barstool, finding a tall and muscular silhouette blocking the sunlight flooding through the open entrance. When the wizard moved closer, she realized he was around her age, and she couldn’t help but notice his face was as handsome as his voice. He glanced at Quin’s narrow gaze and halted. Then he brazenly scanned Layla from top to bottom.
“May we help you?” Quin asked, his fingers curling around Layla’s shoulder.
The stranger continued to gawk as he lifted a sheet of paper. “I wanted to see her.”
“Now you have,” Quin countered.
Layla glanced at the paper then found a pen on the bar. “Do you want me to sign that?”
“Sure.”
His colorful aura brightened as he smiled and stepped closer, bringing Quin to his feet, but the stranger didn’t seem intimidated by her mate’s swelling muscles and aura. His focus stayed on her, and he didn’t display a hint of fear as he handed over the paper.
Layla politely smiled before turning toward the bar with it. Then her jaw dropped. “What the…”
Her allies forced the stranger back as they converged to see what was going on, and a few of them mumbled something along the lines of uh-oh. Layla couldn’t be sure; her blood pressure was on the rise, and a thrumming whoosh filled her head.
The paper was a flyer promoting her gauntlet run, offering free admission as well as paid preferred seating, and it featured two photos of her, one taken at that morning’s training session – sweat, ponytail, sports bra, the whole messy package – and another taken in the Bijou Market the day of the jewel heist.
“That’s creepy,” Brietta observed.
“Fuck, yeah, it is,” Quin simmered, snatching up the flyer. Then he demanded everyone move so he could address the stranger. “Did you do this?”
“Of course not,” the guy answered, as calm as ever. “They’re going up all over the city.”
“Oh god,” Layla mumbled, reaching for her drink.
Bryce rushed outside and returned seconds later, a flyer in his hand. “It’s true.” He read the paper and filled everyone in on the details. “It’s a city sponsored event, with the official winner’s ceremony to take place at the Equinox Gala. They’ve lined up an entire day of activities and several opening acts. Layla’s level five run is the main event.”
“Oh god,” she repeated, slumping on the bar.
“I didn’t mean to be the bearer of bad news,” the stranger offered. “I just wanted to see you and wish you good luck in the gauntlet.”
Following one more scan of her aura, he left without his autograph, and Layla downed her drink before requesting another.
“We can fix this,” Quin insisted, but then he blinked at the flyer as his colors slowed. “We can’t fix this. Fuck.” He crumpled up the paper and burst it into flames. Then he ran his hands into his hair, taking a moment to calm down before sitting next to Layla and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, love. I’d go tear them all down if I thought it would do any good.”
Layla brooded over her booze, embarrassed and mad as hell, yet unable to do a damn thing about it. “They’re hoping I’ll drop out.”
Sawyer slid over her refill, whistling as he scanned Bryce’s flyer. “And if you don’t, they’re set to make a pretty profit off you. This will pay for the gala with funds leftover.”
Drexel dejectedly sat and ordered another shot. “We took away their ability to smear your name, so they decided to bank on it.”
“It’s smart,” Bryce admitted, “but no one ever accused the council of lacking intelligence.”
“They mean to kill her,” Quin snapped. “Are you telling me they’ll do it in front of everyone in the city?”
“Yes,” Drexel answered. “Then there will be no questions as to how an angel died in their Arena. They’ll get hell for letting her run, but her reputation as the most powerful witch in the world will crumble, and the council won’t have to fight rumors that they conspired against her. Watch, they’ll be her biggest fans from now until her run.”
Quin muttered another curse. Then he found Layla’s profile and sighed. “We’ll get you through this,” he whispered. Then he kissed her temple and repeated himself, as if that would make it true.
Layla summoned Bryce’s flyer, giving it one more scan before sliding it away and finishing her drink. “I’ll play their game. On one condition. Who wants to deliver it for me?”
“We’ll see it done,” Bryce offered. “What’s the condition?”
Layla spun away from the bar while wiping her mouth. “After I destroy their gauntlet, the council will publicly declare me the earth angel. If they refuse, I’ll make every minute of every day a living hell for them.”
A grin stretched across Drexel’s face as he nodded at Bryce, who offered Layla a quick bow before rushing from the tavern.
Layla stood and pulled the back of Quin’s hand to her chest. “We need to go to the blood exchange and return Artrenity’s books.”
They’d finished A Beginner’s Guide to Blood Magic in the Bedroom the night before, and if the claims within the pages were true, Layla wasn’t sure it was a good idea to bring bloodshed into the bedroom with her and Quin. It would probably be the most powerful dose of the best drug ever, getting her so high she’d refuse to come down and end up draining the love of her life.
The excitement in the city was high before Layla entered Sawyer’s tavern, and by the time she left, the atmosphere buzzed with palpable energy. The flyers dotted every city surface, fluttered in nearly every hand, and a few drifted down the walkway only to be caught by giggling children, children who looked forward to watching an angel beat the gauntlet, not die in it.
Layla struggled to keep her head up as gossip and pointing fingers followed her across Mid-Tier, and she had to force a smile when people stopped to wish her good luck.
Low-Tier was much the same, scattered with flyers and enthusiastic magicians, so when Layla reached the blood exchange, she didn’t hesitate to step through the black curtain into a dim and smoky reception area that smelled of liquor, leather, berries and cannabis.
Layla’s family followed her in, and Brietta shivered while huddling close to Kegan. “Did anyone else feel like they were being watched out there?”
Layla raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not the blatant stares,” Brietta clarified. “There was… something more… like we were being watched from the shadows.”
“We probably were.”
“Welcome,” Artrenity greeted, emerging from a back room. “What a pleasant surprise.” He moved to a minibar and poured drinks from a fresh bottle of brandy. “Come, come. Get a drink and have a seat. I just heard you’re running the gauntlet. The city hasn’t seen anything like this in many lifetimes. To say we’re excited is an understatement.”
Layla had accepted a drink and moved to a black, leather sofa, so the others followed her lead as Artrenity sat in an armchair across from her.
“We brought back your books,” Layla revealed, motioning for Quin to hand them over. “Thanks for letting us borrow them.”
“Absolutely,” Artrenity replied, setting aside the literature. “Did they answer all your questions?”
“They quenched my curiosity.”
His expression fell. “And they didn’t leave you wanting more?”
“I wouldn’t say that. They gave me a few things to think about.”
“I take it that means you’re not here for my services.”
“What services do you offer?”
“The menu is endless. Primarily, I connect people seeking an exchange. I make sure my clients are safe and that their blood is pure, and I can help guide them through the spells and collection if they need it. Sometimes the exchange is anonymous, sometimes they’re completed in private rooms in the back, or you can simply purchase or sell a vial.”
“How much would a vial of my blood bring in?”
Artrenity straightened, suddenly serious as he leaned forward. “How much are you asking?”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I’m telling you to name your price.”
“I see.” She leaned back, trying to ease Quin’s tension by squeezing his hand. “How much does your blood sell for?”
Artrenity lifted the vessel around his neck while giving the Maganthian cost, which was around two hundred dollars. “It fluctuates depending on supply and demand,” he added. “If all of you sold me a vial, the price of mine would drop, but it would spike if everyone made a purchase and depleted my stock.”
“What would you do with my blood?”
He eyed her as a sheepish grin twitched his lips. “Truthfully? I’d probably keep it. Responsibility might kick in and convince me to sell a few drops to recover my cost, but I’d prefer the experience to the profit. Plus, my wife might kill me if I don’t share the good fortune.”
He freed his smile as he took a drink, and Layla wasn’t sure if she was creeped out or flattered by the idea of him and his wife getting turned on by the power in her blood. “So what’s it worth to you?” she asked, casting a silencing spell around the conversation. “And before you respond, let me just tell you I’m not interested in currency.”
Artrenity had noticed the shift in the atmosphere as the shop’s music ceased, and he glanced around the lobby before returning his attention to Layla. “You want an ally in the enemy trenches.”
“Yep.”
“I’m not a member of the Dark Guild.”
“Maybe not, but you have their confidence.”
“Only somewhat, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Not only are they clients, they’re killers.”
“Are they in the city?”
“I think you know they are.”
“Do you overhear their conversations?”
“Sometimes, but rarely anything of note.”
“Are any of them here right now?”
“Not that I know of, but there were a few here half an hour ago.”
“Give me your smallest vial.”
Quin’s grip on her hand tightened as his aura darkened, but Artrenity was too excited to notice, his eyes brightening as he summoned a tiny, round jar with a glass lid.
Layla kissed Quin’s shoulder before prying her hand free. Then she accepted the vessel and recalled what she’d read in Blood Magic for Beginners. The puncture she magically made in the tip of her forefinger was so tiny she easily refrained from flinching, and the blood had yet to seep through as she positioned it over the open jar. “Tell me something useful, and I’ll give you a drop.”
Artrenity licked his lips while staring at her finger, but his forehead creased over slanted eyebrows. “I’m afraid I know nothing useful.”
Aradia dug into Banning’s satchel and withdrew a photo of Alec. “Has he been here?”
The shopkeeper concentrated on the picture. “No. I’ve never seen him.”
“Good,” Aradia approved, tucking away the evidence. “Thank you. Now forget his face.”
Artrenity hopefully looked at Layla, as if something so simple would get him a drop, but she shook her head. “I need more. How long have they been coming in?”
“A few months. I received a spike in business about a week before your arrival.”
“Where do they stay?”
“I’ve heard them mention a base, but they’ve never said where it’s located.”
“Have you heard them mention the Seven Sisters or the Servants of Ava?”
He blinked and tilted his head. “Not that I recall, and it seems like that’s something I’d recall.”
“What about the veils?”
“No. I’m not in the habit of eavesdropping on my clients.”
“What will it take to get you into the habit?”
He rubbed his thigh as he longingly gazed at the blood quivering between her finger and the jar. “Four drops.”
Layla squeezed, and Artrenity’s breathing hitched as her blood hit the tip of the vial and slid inside.
“Sorry,” he offered, trying to pull himself together. “You’re preserving and stabilizing it, right?”
She glanced at him through her lashes, her concentration still on the magic, and he held out a hand while tugging at his collar. “Sorry. Please continue.”
She did, bottling four stabilized and preserved drops of blood. Then she sucked on her finger while capping the vial and handing it to Artrenity. By the time she removed her finger from her mouth, it was back to normal, so she wiped it off and gave it to Quin, who made sure it was okay before kissing it.
Artrenity sealed her offering with wax before slipping it into a pocket of his cloak, and the silencing spell disintegrated as Layla got to her feet. “Find something I want, and I’ll give you more the next time we see each other. Enjoy.”
“Oh, I will,” he assured, walking her out. “Thank you.”
She nodded before turning and stepping into the lane, which bustled with foot traffic flowing to and from the tattoo parlor a block away. Though Layla didn’t think it was possible to garner any more attention than she already had, somehow, the crowds of onlookers had grown thicker, and their stares felt more invasive.
She and her allies headed west, and as she approached the building with the tattoo parlor, shouts rang out from the rooftop bar. “There she is! Look at her.”
Layla peered up at a group of wizards, who grinned and waved. “Come have a drink with us!”
She shook her head no, and a few of them feigned broken hearts as one of them gave it another shot. “Aww… come on. I put all my money on you downstairs, but I’d sell my soul to buy you a drink.”
Layla squinted and tilted her head, unsure what that meant. Then two women exited the tattoo parlor as one of them waved a receipt in Layla’s direction. “There’s the witch who’ll make me rich.”
That’s when Layla remembered there was a gambling den on the second level of the building.
“Is this a sick joke?” Quin disapproved. “They’re gambling on her life.”
“I doubt they realize that,” Drexel quietly countered. “None of them have seen anything higher than a level three run. They have no idea what they’re in for.”
Another shout echoed from the rooftop. “Look! I didn’t have to sell my soul to buy you a drink. Do you like brandy?”
Layla’s nostrils flared as she smacked Quin’s shoulder with the back of her hand and pointed toward the second floor. “I want you to go in there and bet all the money you have on me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Does it look like I’m joking? I refuse to be the only person in this city not profiting off my hard work and broken bones. When I beat this thing, not only are they going to declare me an angel, they’re going to pay me.”
“Okay,” Quin relented, motioning for Weylin to take his place next to Layla. Then he selected a handful of guards to follow him into the building.
Apparently the guys on the roof thought he was coming for them, because their confidence drained as they scrambled. “Oh, shit,” one of them panicked. “Our bad. It’s cool. We’ll send the drink down with him.”
Layla and Weylin smirked at each other. Then she looked to Brietta, who was surely getting a kick out of the locals’ attempts to flirt, but that wasn’t the case at all. She wasn’t even paying attention to the exchange. Instead, she stuck close to Kegan while eyeing the shadows and searching every face that passed.
“You still feel someone watching?” Layla asked.
Brietta nodded, but tried to relax. “It’s stupid. Everyone’s watching.”
Nevertheless, Drexel dispatched a group of Crusaders to sweep the nearby alleyways and rooftops.
When Quin exited the building with a ticket for the pricey wager in hand, they continued toward the docks in the Low-Tier bazaar, which was too crowded for people to move freely, so Layla’s entourage had a difficult time sticking together and squeezing through. Crusaders cleared one of the docks, allowing Layla to safely board a boat. Then she twisted in her seat to make sure there was room for her family on the next watercraft. Brietta scanned the masses while awaiting her turn to board, and her knuckles turned white over Kegan’s cloak as she blinked then craned her neck, trying to see over the crowds.
“Make room for Bri and Keg,” Layla demanded, motioning for Bryce to give up his seat and go get them.
When he tapped on her shoulder, Brietta jumped and spun around. Then she scampered to Layla’s boat, squeezing in beside her as Kegan sat next to Drexel.
Layla wrapped an arm around her cousin’s shoulders and whispered. “What’s going on?”
“She’s out there,” Brietta breathed. “I kept thinking I saw her, but then it would be someone else, so I thought maybe I’m losing it, but I swear on my wardrobe I just saw her. But then… then she was gone.”
She nervously looked around, and Layla followed her gaze, wishing she could back up her claims. “Who’s out there? The witch who scarred you?”
“Yes. Zephora. I feel like she’s following me, but I’m scared I’m going crazy.”
“Listen,” Layla soothed, “even if you are imagining it, your fears are understandable. And there’s a good chance you did see her, so give yourself a break and take yourself seriously. I am.”
Brietta stopped searching and found Layla’s eyes. “You are?”
“Very. From now on, no one goes anywhere without guards, and we’ll increase security at the resort so everyone can sleep easy.”
“Thank you. That might help. I hate that sneaky bitch. Someday, she’ll have to face me, and I’m going to make sure I’m the last thing she sees.”
Layla scanned her cousin’s determined aura and sharp jawline. Then she urged her to lay her head on her shoulder and relax through the ride. “I have no doubt.”
~***~
That night, Drexel moved most of his troops to the bluff, instructing them to set up camp around the cottages and treehouses, and every entrance to the grotto was assigned a constant rotation of guards.
Everywhere Layla went, the rest of her family went, unwilling to separate, so they all spent the next five days at the Arena, butterfly sanctuary, library or resort. Timber hadn’t returned, and Layla feared they’d never see him again, yet she instructed Drexel to have his spy ring keep an eye out for the nomad.
By Friday, Layla had conquered multiple level five trials, so she took off the eve of her publicized run. Not because she was confident. She wasn’t. Her nerves were frazzled, her body was tired, and her head churned out every useless what-if imaginable. But another training session wouldn’t fix any of that. The shielded spells thrown at her by her allies couldn’t fully prepare her for the deadly magic strangers would fling at her the following day. The real gauntlet would be far more difficult and deadly than the trial runs, and it would take everything inside her – the power, the fear, the anger and righteousness… the angel – to survive.
She spent Friday morning on the phone with her grandparents and Benzio. Then she ate lunch outside with her family, but after sharing a few drinks with them, she told Quin to take her to bed.
They stayed there through dinner, losing track of time as they got lost in each other, but they had to pull themselves apart when Artrenity stopped by.
Drexel and Bryce shadowed the guest into Layla’s living room as she climbed the stairs, still pulling her messy hair from the collar of the dress she’d thrown on.
“Was it as good as you hoped?” she asked, skipping the pleasantries.
“Better,” Artrenity confessed. “I have some information for you.”
“In exchange for what?”
He lifted an empty vial. “A few more drops.”
“We’ll see. What did you hear?”
“I think they’re responsible for the jewel heist.”
“I know they are. Did you hear why they wanted them?”
His shoulders fell. “No… just something about grabbing the bull by the horns.”
“Anything else?”
“I heard them mention the word masquerade a few times, and the bit of context I caught led me to believe they’ll have soldiers at the Equinox Gala. They’ll be in the crowds tomorrow, as well. They um… some of them would like to see you die.”
“Of course they would. Have you heard anything connecting them to the council? Any high-profile names?”
“No city officials, but I hear the name Murdock a lot.”
“What about Zephora?”
Artrenity paled as he glanced over his shoulder, as if the witch might be standing behind him. “She’s been in a few times. Meaner than hell and almost as hot as her temper. She bosses the others around like she’s their queen. She’s the one who mentioned taking the bull by the horns.”
Layla motioned for him to hand over the vial. Then she sat on the sofa and pricked her finger. “Anything else?”
“They talk about the library.”
Layla halted and looked up. “What about it?”
“They’ve bitched about not having access and complain about the high priest in charge. They don’t seem to think too highly of him and are pretty big assholes about it. I don’t know what they want with the library, but I’ve heard them talk about the key multiple times. I think they’re looking for it, and it sounds like they plan to leave once they have it.”
Layla digested the information then returned her focus to the blood collection. “Is that it?”
“It is, my lady.”
“None of that really helps me, but since you risked your life to get it, I’ll give you twice as much as last time. Let me know if you hear something relevant. Don’t come here asking me to prick my finger for vague and useless clues again.”
“I understand, but I’m not sure what you’re looking for.”
“More about the priest or the key, and pay extra attention to Zephora. If you hear something that proves they’re conspiring with city officials, I’ll fill a vial the size of the one around your neck.”
She narrowed her concentration on her task, and as her blood dripped into the bottle, Quin turned his back on it and stepped toward its recipient. “What exactly are you doing with her blood?”
Artrenity swayed and fidgeted with the front of his cloak. “Well… I… that’s rather personal.”
“You don’t say? It’s pretty personal to me, too. Are you just getting off on it?”
“I suppose you could say that. I’m not doing anything nefarious with it, if that’s your concern.”
“Yes. That is my concern.”
“Then you can relax. I’ve told no one about our deal and my wife thinks I paid for it. She and I shared it while we were home alone with no negative affects whatsoever. After the initial rush, we made a kickass dinner and some sweet, sweet love. It was a good night. I hesitated to come back for more so soon. I don’t want an angel to think I’m a junky. It’s just that… well… you know, she’s running the gauntlet tomorrow. I may not get another chance to take a collection.”
Quin kept his feet planted and his arms crossed. “Your priorities are astounding.”
“Can you blame me? You’ve had her blood.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Artrenity’s mouth fell open. “You’re full of shit.”
“No.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“He’s very protective,” Layla answered, handing the capped vial to their guest. “He doesn’t want me to bleed.”
“Oh.” Artrenity glanced at the vessel then met Quin’s stare. “So you’re uncomfortable with everything about this.”
Quin’s neck and jaw flexed as he swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s her blood, so it’s her decision.”
Artrenity nodded while sealing the bottle. “I respect that. But for the record, you have no idea what you’re missing out on. If she’s willing to try it, you should take her up on it.”
“You’re not winning any favor from him,” Layla cautioned. “You should stop while you still have your head.”
“Right,” Artrenity mumbled. “I’ll be on my way then. May Willa’s blood guide you through the gauntlet.”
“Thank you.”
He left, immediately followed by Drexel and Bryce, and Layla sealed the entrance behind them before turning toward Quin. She had to give his wrist a solid tug to get him to uncross his arms, but once they were open, he welcomed her into them.
“I’m jealous,” he confessed.
“I know,” she whispered, vanishing her dress. “But he only gets a few drops. You get the whole package.”
He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. “That makes me feel better.”
“Plus, you know it’s there if you want it.”
“Your blood?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, I know. But we don’t have time for experiments tonight. It’s time to tuck you in. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“We’ll get through it.”
He touched his lips to her forehead while lying down with her. Then he sprinkled kisses on her nose before finding her eyes. “Together. We’ll get through it together.”