Chapter 14
Blaze lifted a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and descended two steps into Jean-Claude D’Amboise’s massive sunken living room. She had on her sexiest black dress, one that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her heels were stupidly high but they made her legs look fabulous, and her bra encased her boobs like armor.
Her whole outfit was both armor and a weapon. Seductive clothing and makeup to draw the right people in, and a veneer of untouchable beauty to keep them from getting too close.
It was a fine line to walk, but she’d been doing it for five years. Ever since she left her last teacher and set up shop in Portland.
Ever since she met Jean-Claude, and he took a liking to her.
The problem was, Jean-Claude was Jean-Claude, even if he liked you. Cynical, egotistical, power-hungry, and full of himself. Any favor he did for you, he made you pay for, one way or another.
He was a powerful man, in all sorts of ways. Anyone in Portland’s magical community who got on the wrong side of Jean-Claude didn’t last long.
Luckily for Blaze, she was powerful too. Powerful enough for Jean-Claude to have more respect for her than he had for most people.
She didn’t delude herself that that would keep him from turning on her, though, if she didn’t suck up to him the way he wanted.
The way he expected.
She waited her turn while he laughed and chatted with others in the room. Blaze knew nearly all of them, by sight and reputation. Those she didn’t know were on the periphery, hoping to gain Jean-Claude’s notice. Not worth worrying about.
Finally Blaze saw her chance. She cut off a minor witch from the Red Star coven who was making her way towards Jean-Claude, and touched him lightly on the sleeve of his expensive, exquisitely tailored jacket. “Bon soir, mon ami,” she said, giving him the French greeting and kissing him on both cheeks.
“Bon soir, cherie,” he replied. “You look wonderful.”
“So do you.” It was a lie. He’d aged since the last time she’d seen him, the lines around his eyes and mouth growing more pronounced. And his energy felt… off. Darker.
No one knew how old Jean-Claude was. He was still handsome, and looked to be in his fifties. Blaze had the suspicion he was quite a bit older than that.
This was the first time she’d seen him looking like he might be feeling his age—but she’d never say so. That would be suicide.
“Are you enjoying my little soiree?”
“Of course. How could I not?”
She gestured to the room. It was filled with crystal glasses and crystal chandeliers, expensive food and expensive artwork. Expensive people.
She was lying, of course. It all made her feel claustrophobic and a little nauseated, but she couldn’t worry about that. She needed information.
“Where have you been, mon amie?” he asked. “It’s been ages since I saw you. Have you been hiding your acquisitions from me?”
“Jean-Claude, you know I have no secrets from you,” she said, flirting with him over her champagne glass. Another blatant lie. They both knew she was full of secrets. He’d been trying for years to find out her real identity, but she and her first teacher had scrubbed that clean years ago, with a mix of technology and magic.
He’d never find it. No one would ever connect her with the Silver Raven coven that way.
“Maybe yes, maybe no,” he said, flirting back. “But I have been keeping one from you. I have someone coming tonight who is very much hoping to meet you.”
He let that dangle, watching her face. Her heart lurched, though she managed to keep her expression serene. Years of practice.
“How mysterious,” she said, accepting a refill of champagne from a passing waiter. “I’m on tenterhooks.”
Jean-Claude just smiled.
Blaze’s heart was racing. Had the coven tracked her down already? Would Jean-Claude have betrayed her to them, if they came to him for information and he realized who they were after?
She knew the answer to that. Hell, yes, if they offered him enough.
What would they do when they found out she no longer had the idol? How hard would it be for them to find it?
Or did they have it already? Was it her they wanted? Revenge, maybe?
She had to get out of here. But first, she needed what she came for.
“I ran into an interesting duo recently,” she said. “Retrieval specialists. Small-time, I’m thinking, but maybe trying to make their way to the bigtime.”
Jean-Claude frowned briefly. “New operatives? Here in Portland?” He looked displeased, which meant he hadn’t authorized anyone new working in Portland. Interesting.
“Rumor has it they’re working out of St. Johns. A man and a woman.” She was taking a risk asking Jean-Claude about them. If he decided to go after them, he could very well find the idol before she did.
Jean-Claude shook his head and made a ‘tsk-tsk’ sound.
“My dear Blaze,” he said. “Usually you are far more subtle. Surely you know information is not, as you say, a freebie?”
“Of course not,” she said demurely. “I heard that you might be interested in one of my new pieces?”
Jacques held out his arm, and she tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow as they strolled over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over Portland. She’d never minding touching him before—he was an attractive man, though too old for her. Not to mention as dangerous as a poisonous snake.
But tonight she got a shiver when she touched him, as if something cold and oily were reaching out for her.
Like that smoke from the idol last night.
She was imagining things.
“Could you perhaps be referring to the Dragonfly of Morocco?” he asked. Blaze smiled and inclined her head. There was no way she was giving up that piece, but he didn’t need to know that. “I must admit,” he went on, “it would make a lovely addition to my collection. Perhaps if I were able to tell you something you wanted to know, you might consider taking pity on me, and not driving such a hard bargain as you usually do?”
Blaze laughed. “Are you accusing me of taking advantage of you, Jean-Claude?”
“I am helpless before your beauty and business acumen.”
“Who isn’t?”
He threw back his head and laughed.
She went on, “I might be able to see my way clear to coming down on the price, a bit, should you happen to know something of interest. If it panned out, of course.”
She took a sip of her champagne.
Jean-Claude shrugged. “I know of only one retrieval specialist working out of North Portland. But she doesn’t handle anything magical, so she is of no interest to me.” He winced. “Besides, her sister owns one of those horrible tourist shops. Crystals and ceramic unicorns or some such.” He sounded like she sold week-old roadkill.
It took all Blaze’s control not to let surprise show on her face. That Rebel woman wasn’t innocent. She was a retrieval specialist after all. And clearly she’d branched out into acquiring magical artifacts. Recently, too, or Jean-Claude would have known about it.
Damn. She should have stuck around and made Rebel tell what she knew.
“And her partner?” Blaze tried to sound casual.
He shrugged. “As far as I know, she works alone. If you’re looking for someone to acquire difficult-to-find magical items, she’s not the one.”
Blaze smiled, though her mind was buzzing. Could Rebel have hooked up with her partner only recently? Was that why she’d branched out?
She gave a careless laugh. “It seems it was just a rumor after all. Ah well. I guess there’s no need for a ‘friends and family’ deal this time around.”
Jean-Claude sighed. “Is it my fault you don’t want to know anything valuable?” he said. “And I hope that we are friends, regardless of any bargaining we might do.”
Blaze recognized the threat there. “Of course, Jean-Claude,” she said. “But I’ve taken up enough of your time for now. The vultures are circling.” There were people hovering nearby, all eager for a few words with Jean-Claude.
“They always are.” He sighed, but she could see the satisfaction in his face. He loved having everyone deferring to him, currying favor.
He was still smiling, but that dark, oily sensation was growing stronger. And as Blaze turned to look at him, she could have sworn she saw a black hole burning through his shirt in the center of his chest, where his heart should be.
Blaze stared, her heart pounding, breath stealing from her lungs. Surely someone else must be seeing this. How was he still standing, making conversation, drinking champagne, with that black fire consuming his heart?
He gazed at her in concern. “Blaze? Are you all right?”
She sucked her breath in with a gasp. The image faded. “Yes,” she said. “Of course. It’s just—a bit stuffy in here. I think I’ll find the ladies room and—”
“Of course.” He smiled at her, but his teeth suddenly looked sharp and predatory.
Blaze gave him a mechanical smile and turned away.
She skipped the bathroom and headed toward the shallow steps leading to the foyer. The butler had just let in three men. Tall, drop-dead gorgeous, and obviously ripped, even though their tuxes covered all the best parts. Too bad she wasn’t in the market at the moment.
Blaze stopped behind one of the oversized indoor shrubs, waiting for them to get out of the way so she could ask the butler to find her wrap and get the hell out of here before Jean-Claude’s ‘friend who wanted to meet her’ arrived.
She was getting a very, very bad feeling about this.
One of the men turned toward the living room, giving her a glimpse of his face. For a moment all she could see was blond hair and striking blue eyes.
Then recognition slammed into her. It was the man in her vision. The Knight of Flames.