Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic (13 page)

Clark held my gaze. This time I didn’t smile. He nodded.

“I have read this history, page by page. There are three incidents that take place in London. Is it to one of those you refer?”

“The witch we seek has the sacrificial knife that was used in the Dorset Street rising,” I said.

“What good would such a knife do a witch?”

“I don’t know. We’re still in the finding-the-puzzle-pieces part of our investigation.”

“Information such as you seek is something I usually trade for.”

“All right,” I said. Then I waited. I was getting better at waiting, because I had learned during my dragon training that waiting was also the state of anticipating … taking a pause to watch which foot your opponent shifted his weight to, or to notice where or to who his eyes flicked.

Clark glanced at Drake, but then quickly looked away. The sorcerer couldn’t just openly demand to know what sort of Adept the fledging guardian was, because not knowing made him look weak.

He then slid his gaze to take in Kandy, who’d become antsy by my side. She rolled up on the balls of her feet and rotated her shoulders.

The air in the bookstore wasn’t musty in the least. I cast my gaze around while Clark decided what he would ask us in return for information. Once beyond the wards, I had expected to feel magic from the books Clark collected and sold, but most of the shelves contained completely nonmagical hardbacks written and probably purchased by humans. History dominated many of the shelves — broken down by year and region — but a smattering of fiction paperbacks held a prime spot by the front door. A large section in the back corner seemed devoted to London specifically.

I’d expected magic to be buzzing at me from various points around the room, but besides a couple of books on Clark’s counter, all the magic was concentrated behind and below where the sorcerer stood. This area — another basement level, I surmised — was warded from detection. Obviously, I could feel those inner wards, but I shouldn’t have been able to feel the books hidden by those wards at all.

My gaze fell on three rocks sitting on the counter between Clark and me.

The sorcerer was watching me again. “You won’t consent to leave the book with me?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

I shook my head. “I have something more valuable to offer you, sorcerer.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe me for one moment.

I grinned. I used to loathe being underestimated, but now I was becoming a bit of a show-off. It wasn’t a great character trait by any means, but Kandy, Kett, and Drake didn’t care. On a daily basis, they were far more sure of themselves than I ever was.

“You have a large — I’m guessing rare by the various tastes — collection of books in your basement, sorcerer. You’ve taken pains to hide them, but you haven’t succeeded.”

Clark, who’d been thoughtfully tapping the demon history book, stilled. Then, he covered this pause with an amiable smile. “Of course I have a rare book collection. I advertise as much.” He gestured to the shelves behind him. Those shelves did indeed hold a variety of magical books, but their magic was dim, almost flavorless.

“I’m not referring to those tasteless bits of bound paper. I’m speaking of the hundred or so books that lie beneath your feet.”

Kett slipped by Kandy to stand directly beside me. He was a big fan of hidden collections.

Clark’s eyes flicked to the vampire and then back at me. A glimmer of magic drew my attention to a ring he wore on his left index finger. The ring, which had been invisible before, was now imbued with his gingerbread power.

“Can you cast with that ring, Clark?” I asked, derailed by the bright shiny object — yes, I was still me underneath all the sword training and dragon DNA.

Clark looked startled. Then he smiled. “Dowser,” he said.

I gifted him with an answering smile. Yeah, if I was going to blather on about hidden books and invisible rings then I wasn’t hiding much from anyone, which was fine by me. Hiding took too much energy, and I didn’t have any to spare.

“I’m surprised Blackwell lets you out of his sight.”

“Who says Blackwell has any dominion over me?”

Clark’s smile broadened. Sorcerers were such power sluts.

“Have you seen or been contacted by this witch with the book and the knife?”

“No,” Clark answered readily enough. “No witches at all. Just you, dowser. Not for about three weeks.”

“She would be …” — I wasn’t sure if Sienna still looked all black-witchy and veiny like she had the last time I saw her — “… unmistakable.”

Clark’s smile faded as he nodded. “Dark?”

“Yes, and possibly accompanied by a fledgling necromancer.”

“No necromancers either. But then, they keep to themselves and aren’t fond of old books, or of London in general.”

“Too many ghosts,” Drake whispered behind me to Kandy.

“I got it,” the green-haired werewolf replied. “I’m not an idiot, boy.”

I leaned over and flipped the pages of the chronicle until it was open to the picture of the sacrificial knife and the demon rising of November 9th, 1888.

Clark peered down at the entry. “I still don’t understand what a witch would want with a book about vanquished demons. They can’t be raised again, knife or no knife.”

“Would you be capable of raising a demon?” I asked.

Clark paused. His ring glowed brighter for a moment. I drew back from the counter and wrapped my left hand around my necklace. That caught his attention, and the glow in his ring subsided.

Going around asking sorcerers if they could raise demons was so asking to get my ass kicked.

“You said you had something valuable to trade, dowser,” Clark said.

I glanced over at Kett. He was a far better poker player than I. He nodded.

I stepped back up to the counter and took a closer look at the three stones laid out across the edge closest to me.

At first glance, the stones appeared to be smooth, slightly flattened, hunks of granite in different shades. Perhaps they’d originally been collected at some river’s edge. However, I could taste pulses of power coming from underneath them. This magic was a dimmer version of Clark’s clove-and-nutmeg spiced gingerbread. Even without flipping them over, I was totally willing to bet that each stone was carved with a rune. And that the three runes — connected to each other — were the anchor for the inner ward over Clark’s hidden book collection.

“The stones are in the wrong order,” I said.

Clark bristled as if I’d just informed him that his child was hideous and stupid to match. “No witch knows runes better than a sorcerer,” he snapped.

“See how the magic slides around but not over the middle stone,” I murmured to Kett, completely ignoring the sorcerer. Clark looked as if he was gearing up for some extensive rant, flushed cheeks and all.

Kett leaned forward, but I knew he couldn’t see magic as well as I could. “Perhaps,” he said. Vampires hated being wrong. I was surprised he was willing even to come halfway.

“The rune magic paired with the natural magic in the stone wants to be helpful, wants to heed your command, but you have them fighting each other.”

“Every ancient spellbook …” Clark sputtered. “This is absolutely preposterous to suggest. That I … that I … a sorcerer easily forty-five years your senior —”
 

I reached out and shifted the middle stone out of alignment. Clark lunged for me. Kett’s hand was at his neck before the sorcerer had gotten to within an inch of my fingers.

I tugged the left stone into the middle spot and replaced it with the one that had been in the middle before.

The magic settled over the three stones. Then it flowed in a loop over and around all three. The taste of the books stored beneath Clark’s feet disappeared.

I looked up at the sorcerer with a smile.

One of his hands was pinned to the desk by Kandy, the other by Drake. I’d been too intrigued by the magic stones to see either of them move. The fledgling guardian looked far too interested in the sorcerer’s ring.

Kett released his hold on Clark’s neck so swiftly that he actually stumbled forward.

In a breath, all three — Kett, Drake, and Kandy — were arrayed beside and behind me once again.

Clark blinked his eyes rapidly a few times. Then he remembered to close his mouth. He let whatever spell he had called up in the ring drop with an exhalation.

“I didn’t mean to bully you,” I said. “I’m just not great at talking through magical theory.”

Clark pulled his reading glasses off and peered down at the three stones. Then he rubbed his eyes and looked again. “I … I …”

“You’re welcome. Of course, we four will always know what lies beneath your feet.”

Clark blanched.

“I was joking, sorcerer.” I turned to Kandy. “Have you noticed that everyone is so serious today?”

“Yeah,” the green-haired werewolf answered. “And you’re not even wearing the sword. The blade really ups your bad-ass quotient.”

Clark swallowed. “Thank you, dowser,” he said. “I see. I don’t quite believe, but —”

“It works.”

“Yes.”

“Now, to my question.”

Clark licked his lips. “Yes, I would be capable. But you must understand, it would be suicide. If the spell didn’t kill me, then the demon would. Only the foolhardy would think they could control such a thing.”

“Yeah, well, foolhardy is kind of my sister’s thing.”

“Have you, Clark Dean Adamson, laid eyes on or heard of the black witch?” Kett asked, evoking the sorcerer’s full name in that formal way of his. The fact that he knew the sorcerer’s name spoke of their history together. A history I didn’t have the time or inclination to dig into right now.

Clark swallowed again. “I have not met her myself, but I can give you a name.”

Of course he could. Sorcerers seemed really big on selling each other out. I would have thought such individualism would be a relief after coming to understand the almost enmeshed nature of the witches’ Convocation. Every little thing a witch did was accountable to her coven, and all coven’s where heavily governed by the Convocation. Put one toe out of line and you were black-listed and punished. Then, hunted — if you ran — as Sienna was now hunted. But a witch would never write the names of her coven members on a piece of paper and hand it over to Adepts of unknown power.

The sorcerers’ individualism bred mistrust and competition. At least it was currently to my benefit. Hopefully, Sienna wasn’t reaping the rewards as well.

∞

Driving in London was an exercise in insanity. Thankfully, traffic moved slowly, because everything was twisted around and on the wrong side.

It also seemed as if there was a tube station every block or so … that’s how many people lived in London and took public transportation. When I suggested we leave the SUV and try out the tube to Piccadilly, Kett looked at me as if I’d lost it. I guessed that vampires and underground rail didn’t mix.

While walking back to the vehicle from Clark’s bookstore, I kept stepping off curbs after looking in the wrong direction. I’d already been saved by three Londoners from death by double-decker bus. Kandy had nearly torn the arm off the first guy who blocked me. Thankfully, she figured out he was trying to save my life before removing any of his limbs.

So we drove. Kett was at the wheel while Kandy pored over maps on the iPad in the back seat — orienting herself, she said. Drake was working his way through a dozen crumpets that I’d insisted we stop for, but then didn’t feel like eating. Yep, my world was upside down.

This wasn’t a vacation, though that didn’t stop me from staring at Buckingham Palace when Kandy pointed it out through the buildings. I think Kett was trying to keep to the back roads, except such a thing really didn’t seem to exist in London.

“You don’t like it here,” I said as I watched Kett wring his hands on the steering wheel for the third time. The vampire wasn’t big on extraneous movement. He barely turned the wheel to navigate the SUV.

“It’s London,” he answered.

I let it drop and changed the subject. “The sorcerers don’t seem very organized. Not as political as other Adepts.”

“They have their League, but I doubt they all meet more often than once a year, except in dire cases.”

“The magic is old here. Even with all the renovated buildings. It’s old and well used. Almost tapped out.”

“A witch would feel that way in any city with such history. Disconnected from the magic. There are not many witches of power that reside in London.”

“Because of the magic or because of the sorcerers?”

“The sorcerers are not the seat of power here.”

“No? There’s no League liaison we should meet?”

Kandy shifted forward in her seat, though she didn’t have to get closer to hear our conversation.

Kett stilled, his gaze on the road, and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer. He often chose to not answer. Information was power to vampires.

“There are many creatures of magic that call London home,” he finally said.

“Many different types of Adept?”

“These powerful few would not title themselves as such, yet it is their city. We have thirty-six hours before we must present ourselves. I suggest we be gone in less than twenty-four.”

Well, that was an oddly delivered and underplayed threat … if it was a threat.

“There aren’t many shapeshifters here either,” Kandy said before I could question Kett further.

“Just your wolf hunk all on his lonesome, eh?” I teased.

Kandy glowered at me. “He’s here for school.”

“Shapeshifters, like witches, prefer an environment where nature can be easily accessed,” Kett said.

“But not vampires,” I said, bringing us back on point.

“No. Not vampires,” Kett agreed.

“Because vampires are already magic,” Drake offered from the backseat. “They don’t need to tap into natural sources to replenish.”
 

“Blood is pretty natural,” Kandy said with a sneer.

“Exactly,” Drake responded. “There’s more blood in cities.”

“So London is full of vampires?” I asked. As I peered out at the gray, drizzly day and the people swamping the sidewalks, it made sense.