THIRTY-FOUR
Following a quick boat ride to the capitol tier, Layla and her family disembarked near the fashion museum, where they received a private tour from a curator who was just as enthused about designer gowns as Brietta. The two of them instantly bonded over the shared interest and spent the entire tour chatting like old friends.
When they returned to a lobby lined with featured pieces and designer booths, the curator mischievously smiled and winked. Then she led them down a dim hallway to a door marked Personnel Only in over a dozen languages. She motioned for everyone to wait as she unsealed the entrance, and Brietta vibrated with excitement while watching the woman poke her head into the mysterious room.
“We have a few guests I think you’d love to meet. Mind if I invite them in?”
“They’ll have to sign an N.D.A.,” someone replied.
The hostess withdrew her head and produced a stack of nondisclosure agreements. “I promise it will be worth it.”
Brietta was quick to sign while passing the rest of the papers back. Then the curator collected them before opening the door.
“Oh, my sweet, heavenly goddess,” Brietta breathed, raising a hand to her chest. “This is where the magic happens.”
By magic, she meant dresses, as the room was full of fashion designers creating elaborate, formal gowns.
Brietta squeaked when she spotted her favorite label, and Kegan laughed while reaching for her cheek. “Are you crying?”
She nodded, but rushed to hide the evidence. “They’re all here, every top designer in Maganthia. This must be what heaven is like.”
A few of the designers laughed as they reached a stopping point. Then they left their projects behind and moved to greet the guests. Brietta fumbled through the introductions, starstruck in the wake of their talent, and Layla blushed as one of the designers whipped out his measuring tape and recorded her figure.
“Who are you?” he asked, passing the dimensions to an assistant.
“She’s an angel,” Drexel answered from the background, “a blessing from the goddess of mercy.”
The man’s eyes widened. “You are Layla.”
“Yes,” she confirmed, but then she attempted to shift his focus. “And this is my cousin Brietta.”
To Brietta’s delight, the designer measured her, as well. Then he welcomed them further into the room. “We are filling orders for the gala,” he revealed. “The one to my right will be worn by Madam Lauren, owner of The Spire, and that one was commissioned by Madam Hallisay, the council’s senior spokeswoman.”
Layla curled her lip at the mention of the council’s mouthpiece, but she managed to refrain from putting an itching spell on the inside of her fancy ball gown.
Brietta skittered from workspace to workspace, her mouth practically watering as she admired the designs, so the man with the measuring tape returned his attention to Layla. “Who will be dressing you?”
Layla blinked then glanced around, making sure he was speaking to her. “No one. I’m not going.”
“Nonsense. They will expect you to attend.”
“Who?”
“The city. The gala committee. The council.”
“I haven’t been invited,” Layla countered. “And I may not be here that long.”
“But you must assume you will and prepare.”
“I don’t have time for that. If I end up going, I’ll buy a dress from one of the completed collections and have it altered.”
His lips pursed, as if she’d shoved a lemon in his mouth, and the rest of the designers either shook their heads or stared at her with open mouths. “No,” the pushy man refused. “We will make gowns for you. When you decide to attend the gala, you can choose from our selection.”
Layla filled her lungs and geared up to argue, but then she sighed and relented. “Okay. It’s your time and resources, so do whatever you’d like. If I decide to attend the gala, I’ll come to you for a dress.” She paused and glanced at her happy and hyper cousin. Then she smiled and took advantage of her celebrity status. “Under the condition that you’re prepared to dress my companions as well. We can’t have off-the-rack women surrounding a designer angel.”
“No, we shan’t,” the man avidly agreed. Then he rushed to measure her allies, including the men.
Brietta flipped when she found out the designers were making her a gown, and when one of the them asked for her input, she pulled up a chair, summoned a sketchpad, and proceeded to list at least a dozen dos and don’ts.
Kegan had to literally pull her out of there. Then she skipped from the museum, stretched out her arms, and twirled in the middle of the walkway. “I am living the dream.”
Kegan caught her in the crook of his elbow and dipped her into a kiss, as if to sweeten an already delicious day. Then they came up laughing at their racing auras.
The Bijou Market was less than a block away, and the rare gems must have already been displayed, because the square swelled with crowds. It was even busier than the Central Market, the atmosphere electrified by excitement and buzzing with chatter, and though Layla’s approach drew several stares, she was no longer the center of attention. That honor now belonged to the glass cases surrounded by city guards. They stood toward the back of the square, roped off from the rest of the exhibit, and the only way to reach them was through a ridiculously long and narrow line with ropes and guards on both sides.
“What is this?” Layla mumbled. “The Louvre?”
Quin scanned the crowd as he responded. “Whatever they’re displaying back there is probably more valuable than anything you’ll find in hexless museums.”
Layla sniffed. “That’s presumptuous.”
He smiled at her stubborn defense of the non-magical world. “If they have something that belonged to Ava, it’s as old as humanity itself.”
“True. Guess we better get in line.”
“No. I don’t want to be surrounded by strangers in such close quarters.”
“I agree,” Drexel approved. “We’ll work around it.”
“I won’t cut in line,” Layla stipulated.
Drexel’s lips thinned, but he was learning not to argue. Instead, he whistled for eight soldiers and instructed them to hold Layla’s place in line. “Sufficient?”
She smiled and turned toward the more accessible parts of the market. “Yep.”
She wandered from booth to booth, admiring unique gemstones and metals, the likes of which she’d never seen before, but she didn’t stop until she reached a canopy shading a large assortment of precious coral. One of the smaller tables near the back held a sign that read Maganthian, and Layla approached while thumbing the ring on her left hand. Most of the local coral had already been carved into jewelry, but there were a few raw pieces, and Layla found similarities when she compared them to her ring, which outshone all those for sale.
She smiled at Quin. “This is where it started its journey to my finger, huh?”
“Probably,” he confirmed, scanning the inventory, but he seemed unsatisfied with the options.
The seller finished with another customer. Then she beamed while moving to Layla. “The angel has fine taste, but of course she does.”
“She has humble taste,” Quin countered, “but she lets me spoil her.”
“I can see that.” She grabbed Layla’s hand, making her security flinch and tense, but the vendor was too busy examining Layla’s ring to notice. “This is exquisite. Is it Maganthian?”
Layla wiggled her fingers. “Yes.”
“Hmm… He didn’t get it from me.”
“He made it.”
The stranger’s forehead wrinkled as she turned Layla’s hand this way and that, measuring the ring while judging its quality. Then she raised an eyebrow at Quin. “You carved this?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get the material?”
“A travelling expo in the Pacific Northwest, from a man named Vector.”
Her face lit up. “That’s my brother.” She released Layla and motioned for them to follow her to a sealed case in the very back. “A ring like that shouldn’t be paired with your average coral. Take a look at our premium stock.”
She opened the lid, revealing around a dozen pieces of coral, each of which was accompanied by a card detailing its history. Around half were imported, but the rest had been harvested in Maganthia and once belonged to noteworthy magicians.
Quin retrieved one of the bigger pieces, a carved butterfly with a four-inch wingspan. Then he compared its colors to those in Layla’s ring as she studied the card. “Who’s Anatara Oromar?”
“The Butterfly Maiden,” the seller answered. “When the city was sealed underwater, we lost a significant number of indigenous, winged species. Those that made it into the dome, didn’t have the numbers to survive, so Anatara launched a campaign to bring back the birds, bees and butterflies, many of which are now extinct outside the city. She single-handedly saved countless breeds and eventually opened the zoology museum. Tusian Lemming, one of the most popular artists at the time, carved the butterfly pendant for Anatara’s one-hundredth birthday, but it didn’t stay in her family for long. One of her dying wishes was for all of her jewelry and art to be auctioned off, with the profits going toward the butterfly sanctuary. Tusian was so proud of the pendant, he bought it back and displayed it with his other work. It stayed in his family for several centuries after his death and has since passed from one notable magician to another. My family procured it from an auction when the previous owner decided to downsize and move in with a mainland coven.”
“I like that story,” Layla approved, but then she flipped over the card and widened her eyes on the price. It was listed in Maganthian currency, and it was an amount she’d never seen before, so probably well over a thousand dollars, which made sense considering it was a rare antique carved by a famous artist for a celebrated witch.
“Do you have a transaction record?” Quin asked, zoning in on the details of the pendant. “It’s in excellent shape.”
The vendor dug into a briefcase as she replied. “Tusian can be thanked for that. Aside from a few pieces caught in disasters, all his work remains intact. He had a secret sealing technique that remains a mystery to this day. Here it is.” She passed over a stack of papers. “That’s every public transaction since its creation, including when it was gifted to someone.”
Quin scanned the names and ran his thumb down the value column. Then he glanced at Layla before returning the papers and pendant to their owner. “Do you have a card?”
The woman held up two fingers and summoned a sparkly business card. “If you decide to invest, I’ll come to you.”
“Thanks,” Quin replied, skimming the information. “I’ll be in touch.”
He linked his arm with Layla’s, and she smiled and waved at the local, remaining polite until they’d moved on. “You’re not seriously thinking about buying that, are you?”
He quietly laughed as he raised her hand into a kiss. “I am. Do you like it?”
“Yes, but it’s way too expensive.”
“According to whom?”
“Me. You don’t even have that kind of money on you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, or you would have bought it on the spot.”
His grin widened. “Maybe.”
“I really don’t need it, Quin.”
“I know, but she was accurate in referring to it as an investment, so if I want to buy it for you, I’ll do it without feeling the least bit guilty about it, because, someday, it will go to our daughter, and it will be worth more than it is now.”
Well, hell, Layla couldn’t argue with those perks, so she shut her mouth and decided to just appreciate that her man was willing and able to spoil her and her babies with beautiful gifts.
Since he hadn’t actually purchased anything, he insisted she still needed to pick out something pretty, so she pulled him to a short table manned by two little girls selling crowns, bracelets and necklaces made from pressed flowers.
“Did you two make these?” Layla asked.
The girls nodded, their sparkly gazes glued to Layla’s lights.
“They’re very pretty,” she offered, finding a set that matched the flowers on the bodice of her dress. Then she picked out extras for Brietta, Skyla and Aradia.
Quin happily paid for all of them, lighting up the girls’ faces by tossing in a big tip. Then he helped Layla don the organic jewelry before searching out their family.
As the ladies gushed over the pressed flowers and waved at their adorable creators, Layla’s security drew closer, and Drexel grabbed Quin’s attention. “They’re almost ready for you.”
Quin glanced at the guarded display. Then he motioned for the guys to grab the distracted witches and follow him across the square. Drexel had already spoken to the guards, who arranged for Layla and her family to approach the exhibit from a different direction than the public.
When the group of crusaders reached the front of the line, they formed a protective wall between it and the display, and one of the city guards opened a different section of rope, granting Layla and her family access to a pair of crystal-clear, domed cases atop marble pillars.
Layla tilted her head and cautiously drew closer, surprised by the small size of the enclosed gems. She’d expected something large and flashy, like the Hope Diamond, but the stone in the left case was no bigger than the zultanite in her mom’s wedding ring, and the stones spread out in the case on the right were even smaller. Platinum plaques adorned both columns, and as Layla leaned over to read them, a somewhat familiar voice rang out behind her.
“Ava’s Eye and Willa’s Tears. How appropriate they came out of hiding for a visit from an angel.”
Layla straightened and looked over her shoulder, finding Mekhi, the city’s high priest, nodding at Drexel as he approached. Returning her gaze to the plaques, Layla realized Ava’s Eye and Willa’s Tears were the names of the gemstones. The former was perfectly round and clear blue, like aquamarine, but it looked as if it had clouds floating through it, and the very center contained a bright, silver starburst. There were seven gems in the case labeled Willa’s Tears, all of them small and shaped like teardrops, and every time Layla moved, a prism of soft colors flashed from the depths of the translucent stones, as if they were actually liquid tears reflecting the auras around them.
“You’ll never see anything like them again,” Mekhi continued, standing to Layla’s right. “The secrets of the Eye died with Mother Ava. We have no idea where it came from or how it was made, but some claim it’s the most powerful gemstone on earth. Do you feel it?”
Layla definitely felt something weird, but she wasn’t sure if it came from the stones, the priest or the watching crowds, so she ignored the question and pointed to the other case. “What’s their story?”
“Willa’s Tears,” Mekhi reverently answered. “They were found in the LucDre wasteland near her body. Legend says they formed when her tears hit the scorched earth.”
Intrigued by the tale and in awe of the rainbows, Layla leaned closer. Then she jolted when Mekhi whistled and motioned for the nearby curator to join them. “We’re surrounded by guards and hosting a high-profile guest. I think it would be safe to give her a closer look, don’t you?”
The woman glanced around while gauging the situation. Then she bowed her head in agreement before touching the glass domes. The cases slid into the columns when the curator stepped back, and Layla tried to ignore everyone’s stares while moving in for a closer view of Ava’s Eye.
As soon as she bent at the waist, her stomach swished. Then the hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end. She halted and blinked, delaying reactions as her mind sped. Was it the power of the gems? Was Mekhi a threat? Or was her body merely responding to the spotlight glaring down on her, the eyes watching and the gossip whispering through the square? Whatever the case, she didn’t want to continue forward, so she straightened. Then she got stuck as a loud chorus of gasps rang out.
Shit. Everyone was stuck.
Quin growled as Drexel yelled something in French, but Aradia’s voice, though small, squeaked through it all. “Psychic attack.”
Layla flicked her gaze to the right, finding Mekhi frozen and pale. Then screams pierced the murky atmosphere as a black flash shot into the courtyard.
Layla’s agile eyes focused, discerning a cloaked magician, who skillfully landed on the other side of the columns, unhindered by the debilitating weight of the psychic spells. Surrounded by little more than shimmers and bathed in black from head to toe, the invader stood within spitting distance, close enough to kill her with his bare hands, but when her gaze landed on his face and found him looking back, she knew he wasn’t there to assassinate her. A strip of black material stretched across his chin, mouth and nose before winding over one eye and disappearing under his hood, so only his right eye was exposed, and its shiny, cyan iris reflected Layla’s recognition.
Dark lashes curtained the view. Then gloved fingers shot from his cloak, snatching Ava’s stone like a conman skilled in sleight of hand. By the time Layla flipped her attention to Willa’s Tears, they had disappeared, and with another flash of black and a flutter of his cloak, the thief was gone.
The air cleared, making everyone around Layla stumble, but she hadn’t been struggling against the negative energy, so she remained steady. Grabbing Quin, she spun around, forcing him to rotate with her, and she nearly collided with Aradia, who stared at the place the thief had stood, her eyes wide as her mouth hung open.
“Come on,” Layla urged, taking Aradia under her empty arm. Then she moved away from the cases as more than a hundred Crusaders converged on the market.
In a crowded and chaotic tumult, two dozen soldiers surrounded Layla, and several others vanished their cloaks, revealing outfits similar to those worn by Layla and her family. Even their hair matched that of the ally they were impersonating, and within seconds, they’d created two decoy groups, which were also surrounded by cloaked Crusaders.
Layla and Quin glanced at each other, impressed by Drexel’s plan, but they didn’t have time to commend him. As one group of decoys moved north and the other hurried west, Layla’s guards ushered her east, skirting tents and booths before slipping into an alley. They soon came to a flight of stairs, but only half of the guards took it as the rest led Layla around another corner and practically pushed her through the backdoor of a shop. As soon as her family and escorts were inside, the door was shut and sealed, and Layla blinked while adjusting her eyes to a dark storeroom.
Drexel swept by her as an interior curtain opened, and light flooded around a concerned shopkeeper. “I guess you ran into trouble.”
“Yeah,” Drexel confirmed. “We need to use the wine cellar.”
“Go for it,” the local agreed. “I’ll send the others down as they arrive.”
“Thanks, Sawyer.”
The seller left the storeroom, and Drexel moved to the east wall, using a key to unlock what looked like a closet, but after moving a few casks, he uncovered a seam in the floorboards that opened with a wave of his hand.
Stone stairs descended into the darkness, so a few soldiers led the way into a large underground chamber. Dozens of shelves stacked with wine and liquor bottles lined the nearest walls, but the cavern was used for more than storage, as an entire family could comfortably live there. They would have mattresses to sleep on, sofas and chairs to lounge in, a kitchen to cook in, a bar to drink at, and a large fire ring to sit around.
Drexel moved further into the hideout, but the other soldiers who’d followed them down took up protective posts near the stairwell.
Layla led Aradia to a bar stool. Then she ordered Banning to find her some water before turning to the commander. “I want all the information we can find on those gemstones. Now,” she added, glancing at the lingering Crusaders. “Before they get a chance to hide it from us.”
Drexel nodded at a soldier, who rushed upstairs to see the task through, and Aradia grasped for Layla, bringing her attention around. “That was…”
Layla squeezed her hands while scanning her aura, finding as much hope as sorrow. “I know.”
Quin’s colors flared. “Know what? What the hell is going on?”
Layla drew a deep breath while sadly watching Aradia’s eyes. “That was Alec.”
Quin’s eyebrows shot up as Drexel scowled and responded. “Who?”
Quin ignored the commander and moved closer, more mellow than before. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Kegan offered. “I see that gaze nearly every time I sleep.”
“Who’s Alec?” Drexel demanded.
“Aradia’s twin,” Layla answered. “The one who saved Brietta and Kegan from the Dark Guild.”
“By becoming a member?”
“Yes.”
Quin rested his elbows on the bar and ran his fingers into his hair. “So they’re here.”
“They’re here,” Layla confirmed, glancing at Brietta, who didn’t seem frightened about sharing a city with the witch who carved up her back. She was calm and sober, looking more mature than ever as she listened, paced and plotted.
Banning had found Aradia a glass of water, so Layla sat next to Quin and laid a hand on his tense shoulder. “Not only are they here, they’re a step ahead of us, because we have no idea why they want those gems so badly they’d take them from a crowded market in broad daylight.”
Quin looked over. “You think it has something to do with the veils.”
“What else? Can you think of another reason the guild would blow their cover like that?”
“No.”
“I can’t either. Unless they’re intentionally throwing us off the trail, but without access to the Dark Vault, we have no trail to follow. We’re standing still, as lost as ever, while they move forward with plans they’re plotting right under our noses.” She paused and pointed at Drexel. “Mekhi’s dirty. He’s probably no more than a pawn, but his timing was too convenient to be innocent. He had to know he was clearing the way for a thief.”
“They’ll want to question you,” Drexel noted. “They’ll want to interview all of us.”
“Who? The city guards?”
“Yes.”
Layla tapped her fingernails on the bar while dissecting Aradia’s aura. Then she shook her head and looked at Drexel. “No. They can question Quin and I together, but there’s no reason for them to question the rest of my family. They were standing behind us and saw nothing.”
“What will you tell them?”
“The truth. Some crazy ninja dropped out of nowhere right after an idiot priest asked the poor curator to risk her job for something as silly as a closer glimpse at a tiny gem.” She stood and moved behind the bar, searching out something resembling Scotch. Then she poured a glass for her and Quin to share. “Set up the interview. The sooner I give them my story, the sooner we can get on with our day.”
Drexel cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “On with your day?”
Layla pulled Quin’s hand from his forehead and kissed his palm. “Yeah. We’re supposed to be taking today off.”
Drexel was obviously exasperated, but he didn’t argue. “Does that mean you’re keeping your dinner reservations at The Dome?”
Layla glanced from one family member to the next, looking for objections, but even Aradia had pulled herself together. Nevertheless, Layla reached for her arm and made sure. “Are you okay?”
“Okay? I’m freaking ecstatic. He’s alive, Layla. He’s in a lot of trouble, and apparently he’s a thief, but he’s alive. I could do cartwheels I’m so relieved.”
“Hear, hear,” Kegan agreed. “I know the situation is worrisome, but Alec’s survival is a relief.”
“Then we’ll keep our dinner plans,” Layla decided. “That might help get the guards off our backs. Retreating to the shadows makes us look guilty or scared. Let’s prove we’re neither.”