Chapter 20
“Please sign the ledger,” a small voice said as the door closed behind Ashen and me.
I turned and discovered a small fae, her large wings shaped like those of a luna moth, sitting on the edge of a podium.
“I signed in outside,” I told her.
“The ledger,” she said again. “Name, date, and time.”
I glanced at Ashen, and he shrugged. Okay, whatever;
I’d sign in again. But as soon as Ashen got a look around, I was suggesting a change of venue—earlier if anything weird happened.
The VIP room of the Eternal Bloom was both more and less than I expected. It was certainly populated by more unglamoured fae than the regular part of the bar had been at any time I’d been there. But I guess that made sense. The fae in the public section were on display.
Here they were relaxed. Most didn’t look up as Ashen led me to an empty table in the corner. I accepted the chair against the wall—I didn’t want my back to the bar’s patrons. I watched the fae who’d noted our entrance, but there was nothing malicious about their glances.
I looked around, unsure what was real and what was glamour. The unadorned wooden walls were probably real enough, but I wasn’t sure about the tables and chairs, which had been crafted with such skill that no metal screws held them together. Glamour was a belief magic so strong it reshaped reality. The basic principle was that I saw a chair, I felt a chair, and thus reality agreed there was a chair. My gaze landed on an ancient tree growing through the floorboards in the center of the room. There isn’t a tree growing out of the bar from the outside. I looked up. Branches created a false roof to the room, starting twenty feet above my head. And between the branches, I caught the glimmer of stars.
“That can’t be real,” I whispered, staring. Has to be glamoured.
“It looks quite real,”Ashen said, and I glanced at him.
His eyes glowed pale green in the dim bar.
“You’re using grave-sight?”
He smiled. “I find the world a more fascinating place when its corruption is fully revealed. Don’t you?”
If I hadn’t known I could see through glamour when I used my grave-sight, I’d have thought he was crazy. Now I wondered if he wasn’t hinting at more than he was saying.
A dangerous thing to admit in a bar filled with fae. To be sure, I edged deeper into the double meaning. “So, I take it you’re not a fan of the pretty lies.”
He inclined his head, which I took to mean we were talking about the same thing. He could See, too. Could all grave witches? Or was that why only the two of us had been able to detect the spell on Coleman’s body? I added it to the list of growing questions in my mind.
“I imagine that is where the bar got its name,” Ashen said, nodding at the giant tree. “Amaranthine. How lovely.”
I looked at the large flowers far above our heads. They glowed softly, swaying in a breeze I couldn’t feel. As I stared I thought I caught an exotic scent perfuming the air. I inhaled. Definitely flowers. It was a sweet scent that filled my mind with moonlight and laughter.
“I wouldn’t stare at the flowers,” an old woman whispered as she walked by our table.
I ripped my gaze away, and the scent faded. Flowers.
Flowers almost enthralled me. I opened my mouth to thank the woman, but the words died on my tongue as I got a good look at her.
She was bent with age, but she wasn’t human. Her puffy skin was so fair, it was translucent. Not like a ghost’s translucence, but as though her skin was only a thin membrane wrapped around a dark hollowness inside her body. She wore a plain black dress and carried a hand-painted sign that read DESIRES: BOUGHT AND TRADED. I recognized the sign. When I walked PC in the park in the Magic Quarter, I’d occasionally see her sitting on a bench, holding that sign. She’d always been glamoured to look much more human at the park.
I nodded to acknowledge her warning about the flowers, and she smiled, flashing the toothless hollow space behind her lips. Then she and her sign moved on, searching for an empty table.
“I don’t think this place is exactly witch friendly,” I whispered, leaning closer to Ashen. “Perhaps we should consider relocating.”
“I am most amazed with this bar,” he said as if he hadn’t heard me.“Look there, in that small area. Do you see the dancers?”
I did. They moved in streams of motion, gliding and twirling in a circular pattern around a fiddler. When I heard the first note of music, I looked away—I didn’t want to get caught the way I nearly had with the flowers.
“They dance the endless dance,” Ashen said, still watch ing. “And none will step out of that circle until the fiddle strings burst and the song is forced to end. Absolutely amazing.” He turned back toward me.“Do forgive me, Miss Craft. I have a special interest in all things fae. I am probably boring you. We are here to discuss the late governor’s body.” He smiled.
“Please call me Alex. Actually, since seeing Coleman’s body, I’ve developed my own interest in fae magic. You mentioned recognizing some of the glyphs. Did your research turn up anything about the spell?”
“No, unfortunately. The layers of spells on that body were intricate and topped with a distortion spell, making it hard to focus on. Quite bewildering.” He looked around. “Can I order you something?”
As if summoned by the question, a fae with cloven feet showing under the hem of her long skirt walked up to our table. She placed two glasses of golden liquid before us. Then she turned to leave.
“I didn’t order this,” I said.
She glanced back over her shoulder, and her goatslitted eyes narrowed. Then she pointed at a nearby table. A woman in a crimson dress sat at the table. She lifted her glass, also filled with the golden liquid.
Ashen picked up his glass, raising it in a silent toast.
I grabbed his forearm. “Are you sure about that?”
He glanced at the glass and shrugged. “It looks okay to me.” He nodded at the woman. Then he took a long sip of the golden liquid. “Exquisite.”
I picked up my glass and cupped it between my hands, but I didn’t drink. The golden liquid looked thick, almost syrupy. What is this stuff? I put the glass back down and looked at Ashen. “So do you know many fae glyphs?”
“Quite a few, yes. I have been studying them for quite some time.”
Good. The glyph from Helena’s body that I’d drawn to show Falin was in my purse. I’d also sketched out what I could remember of a few others. I dug them out and tried to smooth the paper before passing it across the table. If Ashen knew something about the glyphs, I might be able to piece together more about the spells Coleman was using and what he was planning.
I chewed at my bottom lip as Ashen picked up the paper.
His eyes widened. “Miss Craft, this is quite the diverse collection. You were able to See all of these on the late governor’s body?”
“Uh, no. Not all of them.” Or really, any of them.“Do you recognize any of the glyphs?”
Ashen flattened the paper between us and pointed at one of the glyphs. “This one is typically used for shielding spells, and this one is for a cage or trap of some sort. This indicates a link or a path. And this one …” He pointed to the glyph that had appeared most often on Helena’s body. Then he frowned. He turned the paper.
“That is the soul,” a harsh female voice said, but her accent made it sound like “dhe zoul.”
I looked up at the woman in the crimson dress. She pulled back the chair beside Ashen and plopped into it.
Setting her glass on the table, she plucked the page of glyphs out of his hand. He frowned, but he didn’t say anything.
“I have not seen this glyph in a long time,” she said.
“This combination—I know this spell.” She passed the paper back to me.“I hope that the body you found these glyphs on did not belong to a friend of yours.”
I went still as ice landed in the pit of my stomach.
“How did you know it was on a body?”
“This spell—you don’t survive it.”
“Then you know what it does?”
“Ya, I know. I know there will be seven victims. And I don’t like seeing it this close to the Blood Moon.”
The Blood Moon again. And seven victims, just as in the verse “and seven times she’ll know what it is he took.”The Shadow Girl’s warning had to be about Coleman and the spell he was preparing.
I glanced at Ashen. He appeared to be hanging off the woman’s every accented word. I chewed my bottom lip.
The woman, while not overtly fae, had an otherworldly essence about her. She’d asked me no questions, while I’d asked two, plus she’d bought us drinks. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up indebted.
I smoothed the paper in front of me, buying time to consider my phrasing. No questions. Just statements. “I’ve been told the spell has a very specific target. I thought the targets might be wyrd witches, but it appears that isn’t the connection.”
The woman smiled, and it was the kind of smile a cat gives a mouse after the mouse has been cornered and the cat is content to play.“Wyrd witches? No, this spell’s target is much more … genetic than that.”
Genetic? She must have meant generic. English obviously wasn’t her first language.
She was still grinning at me. Even when cats play with mice, the mouse still gets eaten in the end. It was time to go. I glanced over at Ashen. He watched her as if entranced, and I wondered what he saw with his gravesight.
I reached across the table and touched his arm. His eyes snapped to me, clear and still glowing with power.
Okay, he doesn’t look like he’s under a spell. I don’t feel bad leaving him here.
“I really should be heading out,” I said, pushing my chair back.
“Going so soon?” he asked. “You haven’t even touched your drink” I glanced down at the thick liquid. No way was I drinking that.
“You can have it if you like. I have to run.” I started to stand, but my legs didn’t respond. What the—? I looked down, wiggled my toes, and crossed and uncrossed my legs—everything worked, except when I tried to stand. I seemed to be glued to my chair.
“What’s happening?”
“No one leaves until all drinks on the table are finished,” the woman said, her smile practically cracking her face. “House rule. That is now three questions I’ve answered. What will you do for me, little witch?”
“I don’t trade in retrospect.”
She shook her head, but the jack-o’-lantern smile didn’t dim. “That is a shame.” She held out her hand, palm up as though she was offering something or panhandling.
I frowned. A shiver of magic brushed the air around me. “What are you doing?”
The magic crept closer, and a warm tingle slithered over my neck. I couldn’t stand, couldn’t back away from the table. I glanced at the glass of gold liquid. If I drank it, I could get up. Run out of the bar. But maybe that’s all the magic is for, to scare me into drinking.
I didn’t grab the glass.
The slithering magic tightened, bit into my neck like a too-tight necklace.
“Obey me,” the woman said.
My eyes bulged as the compulsion to do just that flitted through my brain. I pressed the urge down and ripped at my throat. Nothing. Nothing’s there. My heart beat against my lungs, knocking the air out of me as I fought the spell.
“She’s too strong. Drain her,” the woman said.
Ashen reached out, but he didn’t touch me, not physically. Power crashed over me. Not a spell, just pure, raw energy. The rush of cold, of the grave, hit me hard enough to snap my head back. My shields shook, and I tapped the power in my ring. Then I remembered I had no extra external shields to reinforce. It was just me against the onslaught. Oh crap. Ashen thrust raw power at me. Not just magic; he wielded grave essence honed into a weapon.
My mental shield shook again.
“Obey me,” the woman commanded.
“Go screw yourself.”
Brave words, but I wasn’t going to hold up much longer.
If Ashen broke my mental shield, I’d be hurting and defenseless. I did the only thing I could: I opened my shields myself. He attacked me with grave essence. My talent reared up, drew on the chill he threw. There was no time for centering or guiding the energy. I just drank down the cold, the touch of the grave. Wind whipped my hair from my face. My own heat burned inside me, seeking a way out of my body.
Ashen grabbed that heat. I felt his power—even as I was making it mine—reach out and draw hard. He pulled the heat out of my body and then kept pulling, his power trying to drag me out of the land of the living, into the land of the dead.
Grave-sight filled my vision, revealing the corpse sitting across from me. The glow of a present soul lit his edges, but nothing living was so decayed. As I registered the body as a corpse, more heat leapt from me and seeped into him. The decayed skin of Ashen’s face firmed, his rotted eyes rehydrating. Leathered lips cracked into a smile, and he breathed in deeply. Heat I didn’t even realize was still in me seeped away, rushing across the space to him. He took that, too, and color lifted to his skin.
I trembled, the icy wind slicing into me. I had never been this cold when still filled with the grave. Never. I felt as though I’d never be warm again. The ice in my limbs weighed me down. Made me slow. Tired.
The woman snapped her teeth like a shark catching prey and commanded, “Obey me.”