Kindling the Moon (Arcadia Bell #1)(44)

The image stuttered, then focused on a matchbook next to her bed. It read palms casino, las vegas.

Perfect. I had a location, and I now knew what she looked like. Better than nothing, and at least she wasn’t in the area.

I expected that to be the end of the servitor’s magick-fueled transmission, but I couldn’t disengage from the spell. The last image blurred, crackled, then … changed. I wasn’t looking at stills anymore. It was the same hotel room, but now it was like a video playing in my head. The girl had moved off the bed. She was looking me square in the face. She walked forward. Toward me. Or toward my servitor? She reached above her head, lips moving, and a green dot appeared in the middle of my vision before darkness ate it all away.

The transmission dropped and my head hit the floor of the SUV as I fell backward. Jupe’s face was wedged between the front seat, a look of thrilled wonder glazing over his pale green eyes. As he stared at me, an unexpectedly strong wave of postmagick nausea hit me.

I barely had time to grab the empty popcorn bucket before I threw up.

16

Apart from making me sick as a dog and giving Jupe his second biggest magical thrill (“The Pareba demon binding was cooler,” he’d remarked), the servitor, I decided later, was a bust. Sure, it was a relief to know that Riley Cooper wasn’t in Morella. But unless I planned to chase her down in Las Vegas—no thanks—all I had was a face to go with a name that didn’t match up with any known magicians. I had nothing to tie her directly to Luxe or to any other order. Disappointing.

With her identity still up in the air and the glass talon being researched, I really needed to talk to the caliph in Florida. I tried to email him again; it bounced a second time. I tried calling multiple times from public phones and just got his voice mail. That left me one option: the local E∴E∴ lodge.

The morning after my date with Jupe, I headed to the lodge after checking on my car in the body shop. When I arrived, Soror Yolanda was speaking to a member on the far side of the main temple. Trying not to pace, I looked around at all the sigils painted on the walls and waited for her to finish. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more miserable, her blond assistant, the over-friendly Frater Kantor, appeared.

“Soror Seléne.”

“Keep it down,” I cautioned, quickly glancing across the room. “If the FBI comes knocking at my door because of your indiscretion, I’ll hex you before the oath spell even has time to shut your mouth.”

An idle threat. I really didn’t know much about hex spells, but whatever.

“Frater Hadler couldn’t hear me if he was a foot away. He refuses to wear the hearing aide that his doctor prescribed,” Kantor replied. “Anyway, back so soon? Does this mean you’ve reconsidered my offer? I’m quite skilled in the art of tantric sexual rites, you know.”

“Okay, seriously. Let’s pretend we’re normal people, not magicians. If you saw me in a coffee shop, would you really think that you had a chance with me? I’m not trying to be mean, just realistic.”

He gave me a confused look. “Ritual sex does not require a mutual attraction between partners, you know.”

“Are you deaf, or can you really not imagine a life without magick?”

“Why should I? You’re here, I’m here, we’re both talented magicians.” He ran his fingernails through the blond, cropped hair over his ears. His nails were too long. Disgusting. I wanted to find a nail clipper and chop them off.

The Grandmaster interrupted us before I had to endure him any longer.

“Sorry, temple business,” she said wearily.

For a second, I wondered if she and Frater Kantor had ever engaged in ritual sex; maybe they got it on with her husband right here in the temple. Nothing would surprise me.

“Can we talk alone?” I asked, shaking that thought away.

“Of course. Frater Kantor?”

He bowed his head obediently and turned to leave, but not before winking at me as he exited. I might not be able to hex him, but I could brew up something that would knock his ass on the floor for the better part of the day. If only.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with the caliph,” I said once we were alone.

“Look, Seléne. I’m going to be frank. No one in the Florida lodge knows where Caliph Superior is. Not his children, his assistant, no one. He disappeared three days ago.”

“What?”

“I’ve sent my guardian to find his, but he’s warded and refusing communication. The elite mages at the main lodge have sent out servitors. Only one has returned, and the transmission was too weak to decipher much of anything. All we can gather is that Caliph Superior is in San Diego.”

“The Luxe Order?”

“We believe.”

I clicked my jaw. “Kidnapped?”

“Not exactly. He was stubborn about trying to find a solution to your problem, and I personally think he went there willingly to try to negotiate in secret. No one in the order would have allowed him to go if he had told someone beforehand.”

“They won’t hurt him, will they?”

“No, no. Not yet, anyway. The council they offered us was binding. They’ll stick to their word until the final date. Which is seven days away, by the—”

“Yes!” I snapped. “I know damn well how far away it is. Do you think I’m not trying? That my parents’ lives being at stake—my own life—isn’t motivation enough?”