Chapter 4
FOUR
ATLAS
Fog swirls around me, clogging my thoughts. I push my way through the haze, driven by some unseen guide. My chest warms, the sensation expanding from an ember to a spark, and the sensation draws me from the deep sleep I was in.
I sit up and open groggy eyes. “Rune?”
My fingertips tingle as my eyes roam my bedroom looking for a sign of the mage, but he’s not here. I could’ve sworn he was.
Lifting my hand to scratch my chin, I pause as weak flickers of electricity shoot from my fingertips. I stare down at my hand. What the hell? I don’t have any magic abilities. The warmth in my chest continues to bloom, settling my thoughts until a clear vision of Rune’s face dances in my mind.
Well, I’ll be damned. It worked. Sleeping actually worked. I can feel Rune—weakly, but it’s there.
I hop out of bed, excited and hopeful that this new development will lead to the mage, but I need help. I have to sleep more. Maybe if I can fall under again, I’ll be able to get a sense of where Rune is. It’s worth a shot.
Darting out of my room, I hurry down the halls to the common area, but it’s empty.
Right. It’s the middle of the night and even we need our rest. I’m not sure they could help me anyway.
What I need is… A new thought comes to me.
I need a magic user. Someone who can give me something to make me sleep whenever I need to.
The only challenge is that I’m not usually susceptible to magic—not easily, anyway.
I need someone powerful, almost as strong as Rune, but where could I find someone like that?
Xanthis.
Risky? Yes. But we’ve learned she has a soft spot for helping people who need to connect. Lovers, mates, and the like. Not that that’s what me and Rune are, but there’s clearly a connection of some kind between us. She might be willing to help.
How would I get to her though? I don’t know where she actually lives, not specifically, and I’d have to involve Mac to get to his brothers, which seems drawn out.
Wait. The black magic alley in New Orleans. I haven’t been there in at least a century, but rumor has it that the area is still alive and thriving. I could get there, find a magic user willing to help, pay their price, and make it back before the guys even notice I’m gone.
I return to my room and freshen up enough to be presentable before closing my eyes to transport to New Orleans.
The landing is bumpy, as it always is when entering a place with heavy magic and supernatural energy in the air.
The streets are oddly quiet, but it’s not the tourist season, so the locals are actually in bed, the supes in their own designated haunts.
I could use Roman’s nose or Drax’s instincts right now to find the area I need, but I guess I’ll just have to do my thing.
Walking to the nearest building, a large old church, I scale the side and make my way to the roof, where I can perch on the edge and look over the city.
“Hey, gargoyle.”
I twist around to see two fellow gargoyles behind me. My jaw drops. “Hi,” I mutter in a momentary stupor.
I haven’t seen my own kind in so long.
The shorter, stockier one lumbers forward. “What are you doing here? It’s dangerous.”
“Why?” I cock my head, trying to imagine what could possibly be dangerous for a gargoyle. We’re built to withstand nearly anything, that’s the whole point. We’re not vulnerable to much magic, our bodies don’t require much to keep us going, we’re nearly indestructible.
The other gargoyle turns its head to look over its shoulder. “If the witches of the Ninth Ward find you, they’ll steal your shift.”
“What? Steal my shift?”
The first gargoyle nods. “They took our human forms.”
I pull my head back. “Why? How?”
“Energy. Every time they can steal a shift, it makes them more powerful, so they target things that can’t fight back as well.”
“How does their magic work on you?”
The second gargoyle shrugs. “Wish we knew. Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for the black magic alley. Does it still exist?”
They both blanch, their stone faces hardening for a moment before they blink. “It exists,” the first one says. “It’s behind Cemetery One. They congregate there most nights.”
“It will cost you,” the second gargoyle says. “Nothing they offer is cheap.”
“No, I didn’t expect it would be. Thank you.” I straighten my shoulders, about to start my shift, but both gargoyles rush forward, putting their stone hands on me.
“No, keep your human form. It’s safer.”
“Right. Thank you.” I nod to them as I part, making a mental note as I climb down the side of the building to come back when all this is over and find some way to help them if I can.
When I reach the bottom, I glance up at them one last time before taking off down the darkened streets of the French Quarter.
It doesn’t take me long to find the cemetery, and when I arrive, I slow down and quiet my breathing, following the musky scent of incense and magic in the air.
I come upon a small group of five people who all immediately look at me. A woman stands, dressed in all black with bright purple hair and oddly kind eyes given her general dark aura.
“Are you lost?” she asks in a thick creole accent.
“No. I was looking for you.”
“For me?”
“For magic users,” I amend so she doesn’t think I’ve come here specifically for her.
A man, sitting on a large stone, flicks a lighter and puffs on the cigarette hanging from his lips. “We’re not just magic users.”
“I know. I need a potion. A powerful one that can make me sleep on demand.”
The first woman scoffs. “We don’t use our magic to help insomniacs or for parlor tricks.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. Someone I… I care about has been kidnapped. I can’t find him on my own, but when I sleep, I feel connected to him. But sleep isn’t something I can just do whenever I want.”
Another woman stands, walking slowly towards me. She’s covered in intricate tattoos, reminding me of Rune’s for a moment, but hers don’t glow. At least, they’re not glowing right now.
“Why do you seek us? There are millions of magic users who could help.”
“I need it quickly and I remembered this place. I’m willing to pay your price.”
Everyone chuckles except the original women who spoke to me, who says, “Are you sure about that?”
I nod. “It’s important.”
Another person is suddenly before me, pressing their finger to the center of my chest. Their eyes glow an eerie yellow tinged with orange around the irises, and I couldn’t begin to guess their gender or origin.
Their lips part, revealing long fangs, and I recall the story Cassius told us about witches and vampires attacking each other and their abilities bleeding into each other. Only here in New Orleans.
“You have your own magic,” the person says.
“No. I’m a gargoyle.”
“I know that, but there is some. It’s weak but it’s there.”
“I… I think it’s from my lost friend.”
The person nods. “We’ll help you. Our fee is a favor.”
“A favor?”
“You promise that if the day comes when we need your assistance, you will provide it.”
“What would you need me for?”
“Who knows. Deal or no deal?”
I start to agree, but the words won’t leave my tongue. “I would, but I can’t commit. I’m already under contract with a demon. I work for him.”
The person tilts their head. “What is the demon’s name?”
“His official name is…” What, am I crazy? I can’t give that out. “Auri. We call him Auri.” There’s no way I’m giving black magic users his official name.
The person nods. “We’ll discuss it with Auri, then. A gargoyle can always be useful, as power struggles frequently break out in the city, and those damn Ninth Ward witches are growing in power.”
“Hey,” another witch complains, “not all of us are bad.”
“Not all of you are good, either,” the person says. They snap their fingers. “Make the potion, Lacy.”
“It only needs to cause sleep. Nothing else.”
“We heard you.”
I tap my leg nervously. This is risky, but if the only way I can feel the connection to Rune is through sleeping, I need to be able to stay in that mode for a while and see if I can locate him that way. It’s worth a shot.
Lacy, I presume, appears from a darkened hallway holding a bottle of swirling blue liquid. She parts her lips in a smile of sorts, revealing rotting teeth, but her eyes are shimmering with joy. What an odd juxtaposition.
“Here you go, Madam.” Lacy hands the person talking to me the bottle. “One drop equals one hour of sleep. Deep sleep.”
“I can’t be woken up while it’s working?”
“That’s correct,” Lacy says. “Be careful with it. It’s very powerful and opens you up to possession if a spirit were to detect an opening. This should be more than enough. Only take a sip, that allows most to sleep for twelve hours, although for a gargoyle it may be less.”
“I understand.”
I reach for the bottle, but “Madam” pulls it away. “Remember our deal?”
“I remember. If Auri approves it, I’m more than happy to help.”
“Very well.” She hands the bottle to me.
The contents feel warm through the glass.
“Only take it when you’re in a safe place where you can sleep uninterrupted. Even better if you have someone watching over you.”
“I can do that. Thank you again.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’m also happy to do business with someone who respects us.”
I nod and turn to leave, but Madam touches my arm. “Yes?”
“You best get out of here before the Ninth Ward witches find you.”
“I was warned. What’s up with them targeting gargoyles?”
“Dying breed and easy to control if you catch them unawares. They used to go after sleeping vampires until they got wise to it. It’s silly really. No reason to steal from others except the mortals.”
Nodding, I reply, “I’m leaving right away.”
I take a few steps outside the cemetery, glance around at the empty street, then focus on returning home. The sooner I can get back to sleep, the better.
RUNE
There it is again.