Magic Undying (Dragon's Gift: The Seeker #1)(35)

“No, and they don’t know exactly how I keep the peace. Just that I do. And they pay me well for it.”

I put down the mug of wine I’d been holding, suddenly dumbfounded. “So with all that on your plate, why did you come after me, specifically? I’m no big deal.”

His gaze turned serious. “But you are, Del. You’re a very big deal. I don’t know why, but you are.”



Of course I couldn’t sleep.

Not after what Roarke had said. Or after the weirdness with the blue cloud thing that had swept me away.

I spent the night tossing and turning, only getting an hour of sleep here and there. By 6:00 a.m., I was going out of my mind. Roarke was out in my living room, sleeping on a too-short couch while my brain did the whole dog-chasing-its-tail routine.

I had answers about Roarke, but not very many. I had almost no answers about myself and even more questions than before. Why had the Phantoms turned me and no one else? Why had I liked it? And why had the blue cloud swept me away instead of Roarke?

When I’d turned into a Phantom for the first time a few months ago, I’d thought maybe it was just a cool new power. But it was more than that, and my magic was related to death in a way that I didn’t understand. The seer who’d prophesied it had said almost nothing about it. And never directly to me. Only to Cass.

I needed answers.

Unable to take it anymore, I climbed out of bed and pulled on some clothes, then debated whether to write a note for Roarke or not. But what if he was a super light sleeper?

I didn’t want him coming into my bedroom, so I settled on posting a sticky note on the outside of my bedroom door—Gone for coffee at P & P.

Hopefully he’d sleep another hour and find me at Potions & Pastilles with an espresso when he woke.

I grabbed a jacket and my borrowed sword, then searched the dresser for the keys to Scooter, my motorcycle. They peeked out from beneath a T-shirt that definitely had to go in the wash.

Jackpot.

I grabbed them, then realized my helmet was out in the living room. Dang. I couldn’t go get it with Roarke out on the couch. I’d just have to be careful.

I climbed out the window and hopped down to the ground silently. It was still dark out as I raced through the alley between the buildings and out onto the main street.

It took me a moment to remember where I’d parked Scooter. Up past Potions & Pastilles, because it’d been the only spot available. As I hurried up the street, I reached up and pressed my fingertips to the charm at my neck.

“Cass?” I asked.

“What?” Cass’s groggy voice sounded through the charm.

“I want to go see Aethelred to get some answers. Can you tell me where he lives?” Cass had been to see him a few times, but I only knew about him through her.

“In Darklane, three doors down from Aerdeca and Mordaca. Blue house.”

“Thanks. And can you call Connor or Claire for me? Tell them to stall Roarke if he shows up looking for me?”

“Yeah. Good luck with Aethelred,” Cass said. “Promise him some Cornish pasties if you have to. I’ve bribed him with those before. It works better than money.”

I grinned, thinking of the savory treats that Connor made. “Will do.”

I broke the connection with my comms charm when I reached Scooter, the Harley that I’d saved up for when we’d first moved to town. The thing was a beast, but I liked the name Scooter.

I climbed on, cranked the engine, then took off, navigating through the business district and the Historic District, both of which were still dead this time of night. The same couldn’t be said of Darklane. Like its name, the dark hours of night were usually the busiest for this neighborhood.

Ramshackle buildings rose three stories tall on either side of the street as I turned onto the main thoroughfare in Darklane. Ornate gas lamps shed a golden glow. The buildings were as old and ornate as the brightly painted ones in the Historic District, but these were coated in a layer of grime that obscured the bright paint. I’d long been convinced that the layer of dirt and soot had been there since shortly after the buildings themselves had been built.

Darklane housed those supernaturals who worked with magic’s darker side. The kind that harmed as well as helped. But it wasn’t entirely bad. It was all up to interpretation.

While a lot of these supernaturals occasionally bent the law, they weren’t total criminals. The Magica would crack down on that. They walked the line with things like blood magic—illegal if you did it without the consent of the donor, but otherwise acceptable. It was still danged creepy here, though.

I slowed the car as I passed the Apothecary’s Jungle, our friends Aerdeca and Mordaca’s shop. They were both sitting on the steps leading to their door. Aerdeca, blonde and dressed in a white silk robe, was drinking what looked to be a mug of coffee. Mordaca, dressed in a black evening gown with a midnight bouffant, was drinking a Manhattan. I waved, and they waved back. We weren’t close, but they’d had our backs when my deirfiúr and I had needed them.

When I reached Aethelred’s house, a skinny building that had once been blue, I pulled over and parked on the side of the road. I hurried up the narrow wooden steps and banged on the falcon door knocker.

“Who is it?” a cranky old voice called.

Shit. The sun hadn’t even risen. I really should have brought coffee or something, because this was seriously rude.