Beatrice lifts an eyebrow from behind her reading glasses. “Always the rogue, aren’t you, Grayson? You must know by now that I’m impervious to your charms.”

  “Sadly, you’ve made me aware on many occasions. Not that I intend to stop trying.” Grayson steps forward as a bouquet of spring flowers appears in his hand. He places them into a waiting vase on Beatrice’s desk.

  “Well timed. I’ll give you that,” she says. “The ones you gave me yesterday died this morning. You really need to work on that.” She turns her attention to me. “I suppose he tried telling you that we have those who reveal our location murdered.”

  I can’t help but smile at the devilish look in her eye. “I take it that’s part of his routine?”

  “He keeps trying, but he’s about as frightening as a koala. For the record, we don’t have to worry about that sort of thing. Backtracker spells take care of that for us.”

  Grayson sighs. “Seriously, Beatrice? Backtracker spells?”

  Beatrice blinks back at him patiently.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” I say. “What’s a backtracker spell?”

  Beatrice swivels a leather-bound register my way and holds out a feather pen. “Please sign the visitors’ log,” she says. “It’s procedure.”

  I hesitate, then accept the pen, deciding to play along with Shadow Order procedure. Besides, having no identity means that your signature is essentially meaningless.

  As I sign the book, Beatrice continues. “A backtracker spell is exactly what it sounds like. Let me ask you this, dear. How did you get here?”

  I shake my head, not sure I understand. “I came with Grayson.”

  Beatrice smiles. “Yes, I know. But which roads did you take?”

  I think about that for a moment. “Sure, of course. Grayson picked me up at my apartment. We left the neighborhood and took Belvidere to Canal, then we came down South 9th Street, and from there...” Suddenly, the rest seems hazy. I remember looking up at the sky as we crossed the James River, but from there I just recall chatting with Grayson as we drove along. I sort of remember a wooded road, but I don’t remember seeing any signs, and how we suddenly got from the city to the wooded road seems strange now. Where the hell was that anyway? Then, the next thing I knew, we were approaching the empty lot on the other side of the James. Now that I think about it, the city skyline did seem kind of far away.

  I shake my head again, this time betraying my confusion. “I don’t really remember.”

  Beatrice nods, keeping a mirthful look in her eyes. “As I said, backtracker spell, to prevent unwelcome incursions. Please don’t take it personally. It’s also procedure.”

  Grayson turns to me. “See what I mean? Totally ridiculous. Now, really. Who are you going to believe?”

  A grin spreads across my face as I look back and forth between them. “Well, if I had to bet, I’d probably put my money on Beatrice.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Beatrice says. She shifts her attention to Grayson. “I may not be the only one impervious to your charms. That said, implied death threats are only so charming.”

  “Duly noted.” Grayson’s cheeks turn a little red.

  Beatrice looks at me and whispers, “Koala.”

  Grayson pretends to ignore her. “By the way, Cassie is the veil witch I told you about.”

  Beatrice studies him patiently. “I assumed,” she says, before turning to me and adding, “It’s nice to meet you, Cassie. Now run along and play, you two. Please try not to kill anyone or burn the house down.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “I take it Beatrice knew I was coming,” I say, as Grayson and I stand in the elevator together.

  That the house has elevators—not to mention elevators featuring cherry wood paneling, plush carpeting and mirrored ceilings—isn’t something I would have guessed from the outside. Then again, I wouldn’t have guessed it to have a lower level designated for the practice of “combat magic,” which is where we’re going now. Which, come to think of it, intrigues me more than candlelight and soft music. I’m not quite sure what that says about me.

  Grayson glances at me. “I hope that didn’t bother you, but I’m afraid all visitors have to be announced beforehand. It’s simply procedure.”

  “You guys seem big on procedure.”

  He shrugs. “True. Like any organization, we have a few rules. I guess that might be part of why the Shadow Order has managed to exist for this long.”

  I look at the elevator button panel, waiting for the light to change. As far as I can tell, we’re only going down one floor. “I guess that makes sense. I’m assuming Beatrice must be a witch.”

  “Mage, actually.”

  “I guess you’ve known her for a while?”

  Grayson nods. “A number of years.”

  A little vague, but okay. I’m hoping he’ll add more, but the elevator finally dings. Frankly, the long descent was giving me the willies. I mean, Grayson doesn’t seem like the creepy type, but I guess you never know. And I’ve been around witches long enough to know that, while Beatrice seemed nice, there’s no telling if she might be into the dark stuff herself. As we step out of the elevator, thoughts of Grayson being potentially evil fade as my jaw drops open.

  When Grayson told Beatrice we were heading down to the practice room, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe a few weight machines, a treadmill or two, a few dummies for punching full of fiery holes. You know, just your basic stuff for witch workouts. Instead, we stand in a massive chamber that has to be two times bigger than the footprint of the house. And, from what I gathered, this is one big-ass house.

  The floor we stand on is smooth, polished stone. Granite, I guess, but it’s not like I’m a rock expert. Some areas have mats, which I’m guessing might be more for breaking falls than yoga, seeing as they’re massive and several inches thick. Other areas are cordoned off, while still others display large white circles. Kind of like you’d find on a basketball court, only there are no backboards, hoops or nets. Just blackened areas at the center of some that seem to indicate the recent presence of an explosive flash.

  The walls, also stone—although not smoothed to the same degree as the floor—have large padded areas. So, either this place is being remodeled as the world’s most massive padded cell, or there might be times when people are thrown through the air. Other areas hold displays of swords and shields emblazoned with sigils. The feeling I get is that those might go way back to the days when organization names like the Shadow Order didn’t elicit a snorting laugh.

  Looking up makes me feel dizzy, and also explains the world’s longest elevator trip between one floor and another. It has to be at least four-stories in height, illuminated somehow evenly across with a glowing white light that seems almost natural, and that shows no evident source. Obviously, these guys have tapped into some sort of magical light source.

  “Wow, nice practice room,” I say. “But are you guys expecting a war?”

  Grayson chuckles. “Thought you might like it. Actually, you're not too far off. The idea behind this chamber, originally, was that it could be used to train large numbers of witches precisely in the event of war. The idea being, at the time, a supernatural war threatening the existence of witches in the region.”

  I think about that as I follow Grayson across the chamber. “So, I'm guessing that war never happened?”

  The way I figure it, if it had, someone would have told me by now.

  “Thankfully, it never did,” Grayson says. “Although, according to records, it came close a couple of times. Mostly, due to the vampires. They tend to be more territorial than the werewolves.”

  Until recently, I would have guessed it for the other way around. After all, werewolves are kind of like dogs, and everyone knows how freaky dogs can be about territory. Then Autumn met her werewolf buddy, Dylan, who was pretty chill. If left on their own, apparently werewolves aren't too worried about who hangs out where. Once again, though, I had to wonder what's up with my sister befriending every supernatural creature she comes across. We're veil witches. That's not how it's supposed to work.

  “Vampires are such bitchy little fuckers,” I say. “They really should just get over themselves.”

  Grayson laughs. “Historically, they've always been obsessed with protecting their food source. That's where their territoriality originated, at least in theory. And it made sense, long ago, when the population was less dense. But, like you said, they just never got over themselves. Essentially, it's instinct at this point. The only thing that’s held them off here for this long was the Vamanec P’yrin claiming this territory for themselves.”

  This is something I've heard before, that it was because of the freaking body snatchers that a relative supernatural peace held for some time. Until Autumn and I came along, that is. Veil witches are extremely rare, but we’re also the Vamanec P’yrin’s only natural predator.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. “Who knew taking out a few body snatchers would mess things up so bad?”

  Grayson stops when we reach one of the large circles painted onto the floor. Several wooden trunks sit beside it. Up close, they're probably six feet long, while I didn't even spot them from across the room. “Well, it was always an uneasy peace. And we've speculated that one of the reasons the Vamanec P’yrin coexisted with us was because they were waiting for you to come along. After all, veil witch blood runs in your family. It was only a matter of time, and time means nothing to them anyway.”

  It's a perspective I haven't considered before, but it makes sense. After all, Opal nabbed me as a child hoping to gain control of my magic to use against Paul and his tribe. On the other hand, Paul took the unusual risk of befriending a veil witch—in this case, Autumn—thinking he could use her power to take out Opal. For Paul, it actually worked out. And, if he had to wait a few hundred years for that moment to come, no biggie. That was probably like the Vamanec P’yrin equivalent of a week.

  But then something else occurs to me. Yes, it turns out I did have a great grandmother on my father’s side who was locked away for claiming she could see supernatural creatures. She also claimed she could open the veil between this world and the next. Obviously, she must have been a veil witch. But I just learned about her recently myself.

  “How did you know that about my family?”

  Grayson retrieves a key ring from his pocket. He unlocks one of the trunks, then lifts the lid to reveal that it's full of stones. “Sorry, but it's my job to know that.”

  When he says it, I'm reminded of the fact that, while we've come close a few times, I still don't know what the Shadow Order actually does. “Speaking of which, what exactly is your job? And what’s a trans-coven protective investigative organization?”

  Damn, that’s a mouthful.

  Grayson lifts another lid, this time revealing sheathed daggers resting in a layer of foam. “The Shadow Order is responsible for the protection of witches in our region, from both external and internal threats. To provide that protection, at times we're required to investigate anything or anyone that has caused, or might cause, possible harm, to insure that proper measures are carried out to secure peace and security.”

  And there I was thinking “trans-coven protective investigative organization” was a mouthful.

  “Kind of like a police force?”

  Grayson fiddles with one of the locks, which appears to be stuck. “Basically, that's about right, but maybe more like a field team. Although, we don't concern ourselves with matters that can be addressed by civil authorities. We restrict our focus to only those circumstances involving supernatural elements.”

  “So, like a magical crimes division?”

  “Bingo,” Grayson says, although I can't tell if he means me or the lock which just popped open. He lifts another lid.

  “Wait, are those hand grenades?”

  Grayson frowns. “It would appear so. Someone must have reversed the order. I thought this was the gun box.”

  Well, that's certainly reassuring. It's a good thing I'm temporarily immortal, or I might be getting nervous.

  Grayson moves onto the next box, fiddling with the keys again. “What was I saying? Oh, right. The Shadow Order is a sort of field team that often does work too dangerous for other witches, or that’s simply beyond their experience. The breaking of arcane spells, for example, or trying to reverse particularly obscure curses. Hence our ongoing pursuit of education, such as studying written artifacts like those Maggie is so gifted at discovering. Of course, sometimes there are dimensional aspects to investigate, although that kind of expertise is increasingly rare.”

  My ears prick up at that one. “What kind of dimensional aspects?”

  “Well, whether the perpetrator of a particular crime or transgression is suspected of crossing into this dimension from another. There are realms abutting our own and, in some instances, it’s possible for a gap to be opened between—” Grayson stops and looks up from where he crouches beside a trunk. “But, of course, you already know this. You’re a veil witch, after all.”

  I open my mouth to speak, about to tell him about the other night, but then decide to wait. I’m not sure why. Just an instinct, I guess, telling me that I should get to know him better first. Instead, I say, “So what's your role within the trans-coven thingy?”

  Grayson hesitates, then turns his attention back to what he was doing. He pops another trunk open, this time full of tennis balls. “There we go. Much better.”

  Yeah, no kidding. I was expecting a rocket launcher.

  “Heads up.” Grayson tosses a tennis ball my way and I snatch it out of the air. “Nice catch. As for roles, primarily we have only two, administrator or investigator. Beatrice, as you might have guessed, works in an administrative capacity, while I'm responsible for investigations. When we have an active case, that is. The rest of the time, I focus on efforts to maintain the supernatural balance, or the procurement of potentially advantageous resources.”

  Wow, that's the first time I've been described that way. “I take it both of those involve spying.”

  Grayson tosses me another tennis ball “Well, at least gathering information.” He smiles and adds, “In your case, it wasn't hard to do. You hung up a flier in a bookstore. Ready to get started?”

  CHAPTER 18

  I hold up the two tennis balls. “I’m assuming we’re using these rather than the hand grenades.”

  “At least to start.” Grayson keeps his expression neutral. Okay, so maybe he does have some poker face skills.

  “Cool.” I whip a ball and hit him in the head.

  “Ow, shit.” Grayson rubs his forehead, then stares back at me with a lopsided grin. “What was that? I didn’t even tell you what we were doing yet.”

  There we go. I finally got him to drop some of the formality. He may be handsome, but he definitely needs to relax that whole Oxford grad student thing.

  I shrug and say, “You gave me balls to throw, so I threw one.”

  “But I wasn’t ready.”

  I grin back at him. “Shouldn’t wizards always be ready? Isn’t that, like, lesson number one? It always is in the movies.”

  “Mage, not wizard.”

  “Same thing,” I say, just to get under his skin.

  Grayson ignores the comment. He flicks his wrist and another ball shoots my way from the trunk. “Okay, as I arm you again, let’s discuss our objective. I’ll go stand in that circle you see on the floor. You’ll stand in the opposing circle.”

  Okay, back to formal. Whatever floats his boat, I guess. “Is there more?”

  “Not for the moment.”

  We take our positions.

  “Okay, now what?” I say.

  “Now, you throw a tennis ball at my head.”

  I smirk at him. “Oh, no wonder. I just didn’t understand the rules before.”

  “Exactly.” Grayson poises himself, his hands resting loosely at his hips. After a few seconds, he says, “What are you waiting for?”

  “The element of surprise. Sooner or later you’ll get distracted, and that’s when I’ll pounce.”

  A much less lopsided grin spreads across Grayson’s face. The guy really does have an amazing smile. “How about we work on the element of surprise later. Let’s pretend this is one of those moments when your opponent knows you’re about to attack.”

  “With a tennis ball.”

  “Yes, with a tennis ball. Now pounce, or throw, or whatever.”

  “Okay, it’s your face.” I wind up, squint, and throw. The ball barely leaves my hand when it blips out of the air. A moment later, it reappears at the other end of the room bouncing along the floor. It echoes from what seems like a mile away.

  I can’t help but stare in amazement.

  “Yeah, I know,” Grayson says. “Try again.”

  I can see where this is going, but I give it a try anyway. This time, Grayson waits until the ball is just about to strike him. He closes his eyes and, again, the ball vanishes. Same deal. I hear the echoes of it bouncing from a far corner, this time even farther off.

  “Yeah, I know,” Grayson says.

  I stare back at him. “Wait, is that a form of—”

  “Teleportation?” Grayson’s eyes meet mine and he nods. “It sure is.”

  “Sweet.” I’ve always wondered about that aspect of magic, although I never met a witch who could master it. “Are you just going to show off all day, or were you planning on showing me how to do that?”

  “I’d be happy to,” Grayson says. “Please pass me a hand grenade.”

  Maybe it’s the delivery, or the way he keeps a straight face, but a grin spreads across my face. As he raises an eyebrow, my grin widens and I laugh.

  Grayson walks toward me, keeping his eyes on mine as he joins me in the circle. There’s just something about the way he moves, his lithe stride and graceful approach, along with the implied intimacy of joining me in my designated space, that makes my heart start to beat faster. I imagine his soft, full lips meeting my own. I run my hand through my hair, a little nervously it seems to me. Grayson watches me, just barely cocking his head, and it feels as if he looks inside me. Does he somehow know what I’m feeling?

 

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