Shadows, Maps, and Other Ancient Magic (12 page)

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While Kandy checked us in, I headed out toward the courtyard that the Inn at the Market shared with a wine bar bistro and a sushi place. The front desk clerk made no mention of us arriving from within the hotel, as opposed to through the front door. Nor did she blink at the fact that we didn’t have any luggage. She simply welcomed us back — I imagined she could see on her computer that this was my third stay — and then dealt with getting Kandy the requested key cards.
 

When I realized Warner was watching me exit the lobby, I resisted the urge to go around and around in the revolving door. It probably freaked him out, though he was currently inscrutable. And really, I didn’t need to be any more childish than normal. The sentinel continued to check out the lobby as if sniffing for bombs, and maybe he was. But I could tell without even trying that there wasn’t a drop of magic within the hotel — not even a tiny tint of residual magic on any of the floors. Not even from the magical portal that we’d just walked through four floors up. Yeah, my dowser senses were that sharp now.

Which is why I didn’t bother to cross right and around the corner to see if Wisteria was in the cafe yet. I knew she wasn’t anywhere nearby — not on foot, anyway. I imagined that if she came by car, I wouldn’t pick up her sweet nutmeg magic as readily.

Instead, I stepped left, crossed out of the courtyard, and down the stairs to the sidewalk. If I looked west I could see Pike Place Market at the base of the hill. The valet stand stood empty to one side. The street was cobbled, and currently clear of vehicles. I was a huge fan of the Granville Island Market in Vancouver, but it was obviously an idea ripped off from Seattle years ago. Old wooden buildings, once used for shipping and fisheries and industrial stuff, stretched along the waterfront here. The red paint of their shiplapped siding was faded perfectly to my mind. Though I couldn’t see it from this vantage point, I knew a large brass piggy bank sat at the main entrance a block south. I always made sure to drop a donation in the brass pig for the market’s social services whenever I visited.
 

Unfortunately, along with most of the restaurants within the neighboring buildings, the market was currently closed. No five-dollar bouquet of flowers for me tonight, or mini frozen cheesecake bombs from —
 

Minty magic tickled my taste buds, and it certainly wasn’t emanating from the dragon who had just stepped out through the stationary glass door beside the revolving front entrance of the hotel.

An involuntarily smile spread across my face. I didn’t bother looking around or questioning this sudden development.

The peppermint taste intensified. He was dampening his magic as much as he could, trying to sneak up on me. But sneaking up on me was no longer in his power.

I laughed. “Kett,” I whispered. “I can taste you.”

A breeze buffeted my face and I reached out to grab it — only to have Warner knock me spinning to the side. My right ankle twisted on the edge of the sidewalk, though I was normally very sure-footed in my 8 Eye boots, and I fell onto one knee.

A boom resounded like two cars crashing, and then the pavement underneath my hands cracked. I turned my head, my curls obscuring most of my vision, but I could see that Warner had Kett pinned to the pavement by the neck.

“No!” I cried. But even as I straightened, Kett smashed his double-fisted hands up underneath Warner’s broad chin, driving the dragon’s head backward with a sharp crack.

I gained my feet, but Kett was gone before I closed the space between us. Warner was still crouched as if he had hold of the vampire, but he was looking around, confused.

“Vampire,” Warner hissed.

“Duh,” I replied.

My ankle was killing me — it was the same foot I’d mangled in London on Sienna’s delayed booby trap spell — so I rotated it while I looked around. I spotted Kett in the deep shadow beyond the overhead light placed over the hotel’s subtle signage. His eyes were blood red, but he didn’t attack further. Warner obviously couldn’t see him, and I — again, childishly — couldn’t contain a smirk.

“He’s after the map,” Warner hissed as he straightened.

“He’s not after the map, loser,” I said. “And you hurt my ankle.”

This threw Warner momentarily, though I wasn’t sure it was concern for my health and safety that gave him pause.

“The vampire is my friend,” I added.

“Vampires don’t have friends, especially not dragons. They’re evil incarnate —”

“Wake up, sixteenth century, and smell the progress. It kind of tastes like freedom, doesn’t it?”

“Freedom is just the moment before disaster falls.”

Kett started laughing. Warner whirled to look behind him, but he still couldn’t see the vampire.

“Not helping, Kett,” I called. “And Warner, I’d be careful. Talk like that will only endear you to the vampire.”

“Kett.” Warner spat the vampire’s name like it was a wad of tasteless bubblegum. “The vampire you were … texting.” ‘Texting’ was given the same treatment as the name.

Kettil the executioner, of the vampire Conclave, stepped out from the shadow. Warner flinched at his appearance. The vampire hadn’t changed — not a single hair was different than the last time I’d seen him. He was all ice … skin, hair, and demeanor. Only his eyes — gone back to blue now — offered any color in the dark of the late evening. He was easily four inches shorter than Warner and half as broad, though I knew from experience that he was muscled granite underneath his lightweight tan cashmere sweater and designer blue jeans. The V-neck was his only nod to the warmer weather.

“I should have snapped your neck,” Warner said.

“Hey!” I cried.

“And yet you couldn’t, dragon,” Kett answered.

“Why was your so-called friend stalking you?” Warner said to me. His sneer was impressive and seemed utterly natural on his face, which made me wonder if he was sneering underneath the inscrutability all the time. It made me wonder if I could actually trust him.

“I know nothing about you,” I said, voicing my thoughts out loud. “Neither does Pulou, really. Other than who and what you claim to be. And being a mighty dragon, I’m sure the treasure keeper gives little thought to the frailties of the merely mortal.”

“Your point?” Warner snapped. If words could break bones, he’d be good at it.

“You tossed me aside like —”

“I was protecting you —”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“She really doesn’t,” Kandy called. Her dry tone cut through the tension building between Warner and me. I looked up to see the werewolf leaning against the valet desk. “Hey, vamp,” she said.

“Werewolf.” Kett nodded to Kandy over his shoulder.

“You’re here to help me treasure hunt,” I said to Warner, attempting to keep my tone measured and even. “No more or less. Do not step between me and another again. Never again.”

“You’re only half-dragon —”

“Yeah, I’m tired of that. I know I should give you leeway, what with the deep sleep, dead mom, and skewed sense of —”

Warner turned and walked away.

“ — duty.”

I watched his broad shoulders, noting how stiffly he held himself, as he turned the corner and walked out of my sight and into the market.

“I like him,” Kandy declared.

Kett laughed.

“That’s a lot of laughing for one day, vampire,” I grumbled. Man, I hated it when people walked away from arguments. “I guess I was a little … hasty.”

“Yep, like the pudding,” Kandy said.

I stared at her.

“Porridge,” Kett said, as if he was clarifying.

Kandy waved him off as she bounded down the stairs.

“What? Is that an American saying?”

“And British,” Kett answered.

“Shut up,” Kandy said gleefully. Then she playfully punched Kett in the shoulder, knocking him flying a half block down the sidewalk.

I glanced around to make sure there were no accidental witnesses of this feat of strength. The street and sidewalks were still clear.

“Ow!” the werewolf cried, woefully holding up her hand. Her forefinger and middle finger were hanging slack.

Kett was back beside us and peering at the cuffs Kandy wore before I could speak.

“Intriguing,” he murmured. Then, quick as anything, he reached up and snapped Kandy’s fingers back into place. She yowled.

Jesus. I’m surprised we hadn’t attracted a crowd yet.

“You should be more careful, wolf.” Kett was, as always, completely unruffled by being tossed down the sidewalk.

“Keep your opinions to yourself, vamp,” Kandy snarked back. But she turned and grinned at me. The werewolf — whether she’d admit it or not — had a missing member of her pack back, and this pleased her. I wished I could be so … easily anchored.
 

Usually fretting wasn’t my thing, yet I seemed to slip into it any time life paused these days. I couldn’t even get through a yoga class anymore without my mind drudging up mini panic attacks about black magic and dead sisters, rather than the peace I desperately sought on the mat.
 

“I’ll look after Warner,” the green-haired werewolf declared. Then she took off at a trot, calling back over her shoulder. “You never know what a dragon is going to do next.” Yeah, that was manically gleeful as well. I worried that Kandy was mixing up Warner’s grumpiness with Drake’s playful energy. She was an adult, though. And admittedly, she could read people way better than I could.

“You have dented the dragon’s ego,” Kett said. He was watching me watch Kandy.

“You think?” I laid on the sarcasm.

Kett touched his neck thoughtfully, though no mark or bruise appeared where Warner had held him. “His magic is different than that of the fledgling’s or your father’s.”

“Yeah. Same underlying spice, but he can adapt. Like, change his accent and clothes at will.”

“Ah, a chameleon.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I met Kett’s ice-blue eyes and smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

“Have you, warrior’s daughter?” He showed no trace of humor in his face or tone, but I was fairly certain he was amused.

“Yeah, I guess if you’re old as hell, a couple of months means nothing to you.”

“Interesting word choice.”

“Let’s not play games, vampire.”

Kett inclined his head. “You’re here to see the reconstructionist.”

“And how do you know that?”

The vampire didn’t answer. He just slipped back into the shadows, then moved east up the hill to disappear around the corner of the hotel.

I sighed and followed him. If I looked up from here and counted floors, I’d be able to pick out the windows of our suite. Instead, I scanned the main street, which was empty to the north but full of people a block or so south. Even though it was almost eleven o’clock at night, people were still coming and going from restaurants or pubs. All the stores were closed. Others, clustered in groups farther south, seemed settled in for the night.

Seattle was still mild this time of year, similar to Vancouver, and sleeping in the streets was a viable option … you know, if you didn’t have any other options.

Given the choice, I know I’d choose to curl up on my couch and watch an old movie on Netflix at this time of night any day of the week. At least then the only demons I saw were trapped on my TV screen.

Man, I was in a mood tonight. Something about Warner really set me off … in a bunch of different directions.

Still, as the scent of Wisteria’s sweet nutmeg magic filtered in on the slight breeze, I couldn’t deny the tiny thrill and the grin that spread across my face as I turned north toward the cafe on the next corner. I actively denied this part of me — tried to bury it in cupcakes and chocolate. But, with the vampire in the shadows somewhere nearby, each step I took toward solving the mystery Pulou had handed me felt solid and sure.

I liked the unknown chaos coming my way. It filled all the dark, empty places.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The cross streets in this section of Seattle — including Pine Street, where the front entrance of the Inn at the Market was — all dropped off steeply to the market and the waterfront. Along with the fact that all the neighboring stores and restaurants were closed and therefore dark, this gave the impression that the brightly lit Bacco Cafe was perched on a precipice.

I could see Wisteria settling into a table at the farthest corner of the cafe and ordering something from the server. A tea, I guessed. Oddly, the chairs closest to her had been lifted and flipped onto their tables as if the floor was about to be scrubbed.

Wisteria’s dark blond hair was pulled back into the perfectly smooth French twist she had worn the last time I saw her. Her cornflower-blue, pristinely pressed cotton dress was belted in white to create an empire waist. She looked as if she was about to attend a wedding, but this was everyday attire for the witch. The blue of the dress was a couple of shades lighter than the magic I could see pooled in the palms of her folded hands.

Kett was somewhere in the shadows of one of the storefront stoops just ahead of me. I could taste his magic rather than see him. “Why are you hunting the reconstructionist?” I whispered into the dark night.

“Why do you assume I’m hunting anyone?” Kett murmured back without revealing himself.

“Well, you aren’t working together. Are you? Or dating? Do vampires even date?”

“Your words indicate jealousy, warrior’s daughter.”

“But my tone sounds concerned.”

“Indeed,” Kett laughed. “I would not be hunting a Fairchild witch without permission.”

“Whose permission? And do you have it?”

Kett didn’t answer.

“Have you even met her?” I asked.

“Not officially.”

“And this isn’t any of my business.”

“Not even remotely.”

I sighed. I had my own reasons for being in Seattle, for meeting with the reconstructionist. I wasn’t here to police Kett or Wisteria, if she’d done something to get on the Conclave’s radar.

“She saw you die in London,” I said.

“Yes,” Kett answered. “Perhaps it is best left at that.”

I nodded into the darkness and continued up the sidewalk toward the cafe. I could taste Kandy’s magic no more than a few blocks away, but I wasn’t familiar enough with Warner’s magic to pick up his whereabouts. Or perhaps he was just really good at concealing his magic.