Their magical signatures clashed on the air—scents, sounds, feelings, and tastes all representing a variety of types of magic. Some of these folks were strong and dangerous. The rotten scent of dark magic hovered at the edges. Though it wasn’t the predominant signature, some of these folks were trouble. I gathered my magic close, ready to conjure a weapon.

  Half a dozen people turned to look at us, their lips turning down.

  “Tough crowd,” Del muttered.

  “No kidding.” It was almost as if they could smell that we were regular, law-abiding citizens. Ignoring the fact that we possessed forbidden FireSoul magic, because they couldn’t possibly know that. We kept that magic locked up tight, unnoticeable to anyone but us. “Might as well act like we belong.”

  I pushed my way through the crowd, shivering at the feel of the dark magic brushing up against me. Del stuck by my side. Power in numbers, that was our motto. We passed through the small foyer to a larger room on the left.

  In the corner, I spotted Mathias, the big were-lion that Mordaca dated. But she wasn’t at his side.

  A man bumped into my side. Instinctively, I clutched the box to my chest. I didn’t know what exactly the spell on this thing did, but I knew it was important and I sure as heck wasn’t going to lose it.

  “Careful,” I muttered.

  The man turned, his brows raised. He was handsome, in a sleek way. Tall, with blond hair and glittering blue eyes. Rich playboy. Wall Street, if Magic’s Bend had a Wall Street, with a cunning light in his eyes that made me shiver.

  And fangs.

  A vampire.

  “Excuse me.” His gaze traveled up and down my body, then drifted to Del. Appreciation lit his eyes. “Ladies. Don’t you both look lovely tonight?”

  I glanced down at my T-shirt. A wiener dog wearing a hotdog bun popped up above the box. I loved a bad pun, but most people didn’t find that particularly charming. Annoying, was more like it. I looked up at the vampire. “Really?”

  “I like different.” His gaze traveled between us.

  I looked at Del. “I guess that’s us.”

  “Yep.”

  He grinned, charming in a scary way. “Indeed it is.”

  “Well, we’re not here for that.” I already had one hot vampire to deal with—Ares, one of the three members of the Vampire Court. He put this guy to shame. “But you have a good evening.”

  He grinned, his fangs flashing in the light, and inclined his head. “Enjoy your night. But if you change your mind…”

  “We’re good.”

  He smiled and nodded goodbye. At least he was gracious.

  We hurried off through the crowd, dodging fae wings and shifter tails. Apparently some people were having such a good time they let their inner animal out a bit.

  Near the back of the long living room, a crowd of people faced the wall. Between the figures, I caught a glimpse of a tall black bouffant, then a flash of red lipstick. Mordaca. We slipped through the crowd, finding our two friends holding court in large wingback chairs.

  Mordaca, with her massive midnight bouffant and scarlet lipstick, looked like the cousin of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. She wore so much black eye makeup that it looked like a mask, and her glittering red dress plunged low between her breasts. I’d never seen her out of her trademark black, but this definitely worked on her. Claw-like nails were painted a gleaming black that shined in the light as she held out a hand to be kissed.

  At her side sat Aerdeca, wearing a striking silver gown that flowed like water over her slender form. The cloth appeared to be made of pure metal. Liquid silver. Though she looked like Mordaca’s good sister, with her blond hair and lightly made-up face, she was just as deadly and twice as dark.

  Appearances could be deceiving.

  Except for this situation, where it appeared that people were coming to pay their respects to royalty.

  “These chicks are weird,” Del muttered.

  “But they’ve always had our back.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Del grinned. “Gotta love ‘em.”

  I wiggled my way between a couple of shifters—foxes, from the look of their golden eyes—and ignored their growls of displeasure.

  Aerdeca glanced up, her blue gaze meeting mine. Surprise flashed in her eyes and her golden brows rose. “Nix. Del.”

  “Hey, Aerdeca, you got a second?” I said.

  She glanced at Mordaca, who pulled her hand away from a slavering fae and grinned at us, her red lips glinting in the light.

  “We do.” Aerdeca waved her hand at the people standing around me, the dismissal clear.

  They scattered.

  “Handy trick,” I said.

  “Isn’t it though?” Mordaca’s voice was raspy and deep, a direct contrast to Aerdeca’s lilting tones.

  “I guess our invitation got lost in the mail.” It actually kinda stung—I really had thought we were friends.

  “We sent one. By strippergram.” Aerdeca grinned. “No one was home.”

  “Strippergram?”

  Aerdeca made a little hand motion, a twirl of her finger. “You know, dancing policeman, takes his trousers off and the invitation is tied to—”

  Del laughed and I thrust out my hand, palm forward. “We get it. We get it.”

  “Not a problem, though,” Mordaca said. “I think that was when you were busy being accused of murder. We understand why you couldn’t get back to us.”

  I grimaced. “Thoughtful.”

  “Always.” Aerdeca smiled.

  “How’d you know about the accusation, though?” Del asked.

  “We know a lot of people. They know a lot of things.” Aerdeca gestured to the crowd that now lingered in circles, sipping cocktails and chatting. Despite the formality of the hand-kissing that the sisters seemed to insist upon, everyone looked like they were having a good time.

  “I didn’t know you were getting into the information business.” As far as I knew, they’d primarily stuck to selling blood spells and potions from their shop. Now they were establishing themselves in a serious position of power.

  “It was time to expand the empire,” Mordaca said.

  Well, if anyone could do it, it was them. Though what their empire would do, exactly…

  Probably better if I didn’t stick my nose in it. Darklane business was not my business, especially if I liked my head right where it was. On my shoulders.

  “What do you need?” Aerdeca nodded at the box in my hands. “I assume it has to do with that box?”

  “Yeah.” I clutched it closer to my chest. “We were hoping you could take a look at it.”

  “It’ll cost you.” Aerdeca rubbed her fingers together.

  “No problem.” There were no friendly discounts with Mordaca and Aerdeca.

  They nodded and stood, starting toward the crowd. People parted like the red sea. We followed them into the workshop at the back. Aerdeca ran her fingertip around the doorframe, igniting a flare of magic.

  Protection charm, now disabled.

  She entered and flipped on the light. The long table in the middle of the room held only a spray of dried flowers, but the shelves against the wall were packed with jars and bottles and boxes. I didn’t know the full extent of what they did back here, just that their magic involved blood and treaded the line between light and dark. Hence their names, Blood Sorceresses. They’d helped us a number of times in the past, and hopefully they’d come through this time too.

  Aerdeca and Mordaca walked toward the table, then took up a space behind it, as if it were their desk.

  “Let’s see what’s in that box.” Mordaca eyed it.

  “I hope it’s not a head,” Aerdeca said.

  “I hope it is one.” Mordaca sounded a hell of a lot like Wednesday Addams.

  “No head.” I slipped the strap over my shoulders and put the box on the table. It took a second to fish the key out of my pocket, but by the time I’d popped open the lock and pried the lid off the box, Aerdeca and Mordaca were leaning forward, interest gleaming in their eyes.

  “Dang.” Disappointment shadowed Mordaca’s voice.

  “Not at all.” Interest lit Aerdeca’s eyes. “Anything that ugly has to have some serious magic in it.”

  “It’s not ugly.” Ire warmed my belly. Sure, the vase was made of rough clay, with simple incised decoration, but it wasn’t ugly. And it was thousands of years old, crafted by an ancient culture that had lived in Northern England before the advent of writing. “It’s special. Very special. But how do you know it has serious magic?”

  “Why else would you be interested in it? You can’t display it on your mantle. Not looking like that.” Aerdeca gestured with white-tipped fingernails.

  “I couldn’t display it because it’s illegal to take artifacts,” I said. Except that this one couldn’t remain in its tomb—not with the mob boss after it. “But that’s not the point. The point is that we want to know what kind of magic it contains.”

  A self-satisfied smile curved Aerdeca’s lips.

  “Yeah, yeah. You were right.” I grinned at her. “It has serious magic. Now tell us what you know. We’re desperate.”

  “Who else have you asked for help?” Mordaca asked.

  “Everyone.” Which was why we were here. I didn’t like blood magic, but this was the end of our line. We’d spent the day hunting answers but come up short. Normally, our friend Dr. Garriso at the Museum for Magical History was able to help us with things like this. But he’d come up empty, too.

  “No one could give us a clue,” Del said.

  “We were hoping you could do a spell to see what kind of magic it once contained.”

  Aerdeca nodded. “We can try, at least.”

  Mordaca reached out and hovered her hand over the beaker, her face intense. Aerdeca joined her. They looked like they were trying to feel for a signature. Eventually, Mordaca touched the beaker with her fingertip.

  She gasped. “Evil.”

  Aerdeca touched her white-tipped nail to the clay. Her eyes flared wide. “It was owned by pure evil.”

  “But the vase itself is not dark,” Mordaca said. “Just the stain that the previous owner left upon it.”

  I glanced at Del. “Do you think that could be the mob boss?”

  She nodded. “Likely.”

  “Is the stain recent?” I asked.

  “It is. And the spell that this vase contains… It feels like it has been used recently. The magic—it wavers.”

  “Do you know what the spell is?” I’d been trying to determine what the enchantment was ever since Cass had brought it back from the tomb in the Yorkshire Dales.

  “We can try,” Aerdeca said. “But we’ll need a donation.”

  Mordaca raised her wrist to indicate.

  I grimaced. “Of course.”

  “Let me get my tools.” Aerdeca turned and bustled around the room, collecting objects while Mordaca retrieved a slender knife from the counter behind her.

  Aerdeca returned and laid a shiny slab of black rock on the big table, along with two vials of red and orange potion.

  Mordaca raised the knife. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” I stuck my wrist out.

  Mordaca gestured with the knife. “Hold your wrist over the slab.”

  I shifted. Mordaca raised the blade and made a thin slice through my flesh at my wrist. Pain flared and I winced as the blood welled to the surface. This was the unfortunate part of blood sorcery. The key ingredient was painful to get to.

  I twisted my wrist so that the blood dripped onto the shiny slab of rock. It pearled on the surface, gleaming dark in the light. Once a small puddle had formed, Aerdeca nodded. “That will be enough.”

  I withdrew my hand, taking the cloth that Mordaca handed to me. I pressed it against the wound, watching as Aerdeca poured a few drops of the red potion onto the blood, followed by the orange potion.

  The mixture sizzled slightly, as if boiling, then Mordaca held her hand over the puddle. I felt her magic flare, the taste of whiskey on the back of my throat.

  The liquid flashed with light, then turned to a silvery dust.

  “Neat,” Del murmured.

  “More than neat,” Aredeca said. “That’s top-level magic.”

  She picked up the slab of stone and held it near the beaker, then blew the dust onto the clay vase. Magic swirled on the air, feeling like strong ocean breeze against my cheeks. It came from the beaker.

  I held my breath as Aerdeca and Mordaca touched the clay surface, closing their eyes for concentration.

  “Yes. A terrible person last used this beaker.” Aerdeca shuddered.

  The mob boss. But what had he wanted with the thing? “What does the enchantment do?”

  Mordaca’s brow furrowed. “I think… I think it is a revealer of prophecies.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s a vessel of truth.” Aerdeca’s voice was breathless. “There are a few in the world. If you drink from it, you can understand hidden secrets. Information that has been protected or scrambled.”

  Holy crap. I glanced at Del, who was looking at me with raised brows.

  “Can it be used again?” I asked. “Or was it a one-time thing?”

  “It could be used again,” Aerdeca said.

  Excitement flared in my chest.

  “How?” Del demanded.

  Mordaca frowned. “You must mix a special potion and drink it from the beaker.”

  “So we need the recipe,” I said.

  “That’s the problem,” Aerdeca said. “Whoever made this beaker also knew the recipe for the potion. But this thing is ancient.”

  “And whoever developed the recipe for the potion has got to be long dead.” Something unfamiliar flickered in Mordaca’s eyes. Worry, almost. Or fear.

  But nah, that was crazy. Mordaca wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “So there’s no one else who could know the recipe?” I asked.

  “Only the one who crafted this beaker,” Aerdeca said.

  Dismay opened a black cavern in my chest. Shit.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us?” Del asked.

  Mordaca shook her head. “Not about the beaker, no.”

  Damn.

  “Then what do we owe you?” I asked, my mind already racing ahead to how we could turn this devastating information into something good.

  Mordaca and Aerdeca spoke at once. “Nothing.”

  Shocked, my jaw dropped. These women, though friends, would charge you to use their bathroom. “What? Why?”

  Aerdeca sighed, her gaze drifting to the beaker. “Whoever used that last… You must stop him, Nix.”

  I knew that. But how did she? Mordaca and Aerdeca had fought at our side before, but they didn’t know about the Triumvirate or our fated tasks.

  “We’re not stupid,” Mordaca said. “You are fighting something stronger than you. Darker than you. This vase makes that clear. The dark magic that is smeared upon it made my skin crawl.”

  “We won’t charge you.” Aerdeca’s gaze zeroed in on me. “But you must defeat whoever last held this beaker. His evil intentions are all over it. I’ve never felt darkness like that. And I’m no stranger to black magic.”

  I shuddered. “I thought you weren’t a seer.”

  “I’m not. But I can read the magic, and that thing scares the shit out of me. Whoever used that beaker last learned something when he drank from the goblet. The vessel of truth untangled a prophecy for him.”

  Yeah, a prophecy that I wanted to understand. One about dragons that had been encrypted by ancient monks called Cathars. If the mob boss now understood what the prophecy meant, I needed to as well. It was our only link to him. Our only way to find him.

  “We know you’re meant for something important. We don’t know what, but Cass and Del have fought their battles. It is time for yours.” Mordaca pointed to the goblet. “This is yours.”

  My mouth dried. “Yes, it is.”

  “Well, then, we’re not charging you.” The corner of Aerdeca’s mouth tilted up. “This time.”

  They had our backs. My back. The message was clear. And terrifying.

  Though it was good to have allies, knowing that they—these powerful women—were afraid of whatever was coming made my skin grow cold.

  I had to fight something that scared even Aerdeca and Mordaca.

  And I had no idea what it was.

  2

  Del and I left the party in silence, climbing into the car. As soon as we were in and had shut the doors, she turned to me. “If we can use our dragon senses to find who made this beaker, I can turn back time so we can speak to him. Get the potion.”

  “The least we can do is try.” Though I had my doubts our dragon senses could work with so little to go on.

  I locked the car doors and removed the beaker from the box. The clay was rough under my fingertips, history speaking through the material and the design.

  But it wasn’t telling me what I needed to know. Who had made this damned thing? And where could I find him? Or his body, since he was probably dead.

  I called upon my dragon sense, begging it to help me find the creator. I focused on the feeling of the clay beneath my fingers, the cool irregularity of the surface. But I got nothing. No matter how hard I tried, my dragon sense lay dormant.

  Though I’d expected it to be difficult—my dragon sense needed information to work, the more the better—disappointment surged.

  I handed the beaker off to Del. “Give it a go.”

  She took the beaker and closed her eyes. Her magic swelled in the car, bringing with it the scent of fresh soap and the feel of grass beneath my feet. She tried for a full five minutes before opening her eyes. “Nothin’.”

  “Damn.” I pushed the ignition button and pulled away from the curb.

  “Looks like this is going to be even tougher than we thought.”

  “But the mob boss managed. He’s already drunk from it or he’d have fought harder for it when we ambushed him. If he succeeded, then we can too.” He might be two steps ahead of us every time, but he was proving it was possible.

 

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