Cold Burn of Magic(20)

Technically, pixies were monsters, since they weren’t quite human—or at least human-sized—like mortals and magicks were. But really, pixies were the housekeepers of the world, offering their services in exchange for food, shelter, and protection. I’d been hoping that one—a nobody like me without a Family—would take refuge in the library basement, and we could work out a similar deal, especially since I hated making up my bed. And doing laundry. And every other housekeeping chore. But it hadn’t happened. I bet that none of the Sinclair Family members ever had to make their beds. I bet that whoever lived here never had to lift a finger. Not with all these pixies scurrying around.

Reginald followed a female pixie balancing a tray of cucumber sandwiches on top of her head. Apparently, she was headed toward our destination.

I kept gawking as we moved through one room and one wing of the mansion to the next, going so deep into the structure that I had no idea where we were—or how I could get back out again.

Or if I was ever going to get back out again.

Finally, Reginald opened a set of double doors and we stepped into an enormous library, one that stretched up three levels, all the way to the top of this particular section of the mansion. Each level featured a wraparound balcony, all filled with bookshelves, and all overlooking the main, square reading area on the first floor. The ceiling rose to a point; it was made out of panes of black-and-white stained glass that cast alternating pools of shadow and light onto everything below.

Here on the first floor, ebony shelves filled with books, photos, crystal paperweights, and other expensive knickknacks lined one wall. An antique ebony desk occupied the back of the room, in front of a series of doors that led out to a balcony encompassing the entire length of the library. Another crystal chandelier dangled from the ceiling, like a cluster of icicles frozen in place.

I eyed the shelves, wondering if I might discreetly swipe a silver picture frame or two. Just because I’d been brought here more or less against my will didn’t mean I had to leave empty-handed. Like Mo had said, I was always looking to put more cash in my pockets, along with silverware, jewelry, and other small valuables.

The female pixie fluttered over to the white marble fireplace that took up most of another wall. She placed her tray on a table next to another tray that held a pot of tea, spoons, and several cups. But I focused my attention on the figure sitting beside the table—a familiar face with sly black eyes.

“Lila!” Mo called out, jumping up off a white velvet settee. “Finally! There you are!”

He looked the same as ever in his white pants, flip-flops, and Hawaiian shirt, this one a bloody red printed with smiling hula girls.

I broke free of my entourage, grabbed his arm, and yanked him all the way to the back of the library, next to the balcony doors. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure we were out of earshot, then turned back to face him.

“What is this?” I hissed. “Who are these men, why were they waiting for me outside of school, and why did they bring me to the Sinclair Family mansion?”

A smile lit up Mo’s face. “This, kid, is an opportunity. The opportunity of a lifetime.” His smile disappeared. “And, frankly, the best I could do for you, all things considered.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means I had a hard time convincing the Sinclairs you were not involved in the attack at the Razzle Dazzle. That you were just an innocent bystander who managed to save the day.”

My eyes narrowed. “What happened after you shoved me out of the shop? What have you been doing the past few days? What in the blue blazes is going on?”

Mo waved his hand, brushing off my concerns. “Oh, you’ll find all that out soon enough. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“That you’ll let me do all the negotiating.” He paused.

“Unless you see a chance to get a better deal. Then feel free to speak up.”

“Deal? What sort of deal—”

Before I could ask him again what was going on, the double doors opened and Devon stepped into view.

Dark brown hair, green eyes, chiseled features, muscled body. He looked the same as before, with one notable exception—he’d traded in the casual T-shirt and pants he was wearing at the Razzle Dazzle for a black shirt layered under a black suit. My heart sank. Because only high-ranking Family members wore suits like that, and only then on special occasions.

Like, say, an execution.

Devon nodded at me, then went over to stand with Grant and Felix, who were munching on the cucumber sandwiches the pixie had brought in.

Reginald proceeded to the doors and held one open for a woman to enter the library. Like Devon, she was wearing a simple, but expensive, black suit, although she’d added three-inch stilettos to her ensemble. A silver cuff glimmered on her right wrist—one that featured the Sinclair Family crest, that stupid hand holding a sword. Her hair was a beautiful auburn, while her eyes were a cold, clear green. And just like with Deah Draconi, I recognized her.

Claudia Sinclair, the head of the Sinclair Family, the most powerful woman in town.





CHAPTER SEVEN


Claudia walked over and stood next to Devon. Side by side, the resemblance between them was obvious, and I could have kicked myself for not realizing exactly who he was sooner. Like, say, back at the Razzle Dazzle.

If I had known, I might have let that guy strangle Devon to death after all.