55 Birdie #3
“Yeah, and he’s helping us,” I counter, trying to appease the mage.
It’s not that I trust him. Quite the opposite.
But I don’t want to anger him either. It’s obvious he’s enjoying pissing Jasper off.
I’m playing a risky game in pretending to take his side.
“If a blood test can give us answers to our questions, why wouldn’t we do it—”
“Because he’s not a phlebotomist,” Jasper counters. “He’s a fucking mage. He’s a necromancer, Birdie! First rule of magic: Never offer your blood to a necromancer.”
“Is that the first rule?” Baz teases. “I’ll have to check my manual.
I thought it was this: You can’t get something for nothing.
” His eyes glow as he turns to me. “You want answers, and I can help you find them. All I’m asking for is a little prick.
One teensy vial of blood. Give me that, and I’ll do all in my power to answer the one burning question we all now share: Who is Virginia Birdie Rhodes? ”
My heart is racing as I look to the mage. This stupid soft jazz is still playing, Jasper’s hands are pressing me down, and I can’t even think. “I . . .”
“Time-out,” Jasper snaps.
I blink, looking over my shoulder at him. “What?”
“I’m calling a time-out,” he says again.
Baz scoffs. “This isn’t sports ball, witch. You can’t just call a timeout.”
“I can and I am. Team meeting. You two. Over there. Now.” He turns on his heel and walks towards the far end of the bar.
I tense, watching him leave. “Jasper, I don’t think—”
“For fuck’s sake,” he bellows. “Birdie, for once in your life, just heed me!”
I look to our host, worried he’s offended beyond all repair. But Baz just smirks against the rim of his cocktail glass, casting me a wink. “Uh-oh,” he sings. “I think Daddy’s mad.”
I force a smile, taking Dáinn’s hand. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
“Go, go.” He waves a hand dismissively. “But if he spanks either of you, know I will watch.” With that he magics a newspaper into his hand and a pair of cheaters on his face. Ankles still crossed, he occupies himself with a sudoku puzzle.
I rise to my feet, the sequined flare at the bottom of my dress flapping around my thighs as I walk.
Dáinn follows behind me closer than a shadow.
Jasper leans against the end of the bar in his rum-running outfit with all the calm of a cobra about to strike.
“This was not in the plan,” he says as we approach, his voice low.
“We came for an update on his research into Birdie and that asshole has offered us nothing.”
I sigh. “Well, it might help if you’d stop acting so hostile towards him. It’s clear he’s enjoying it far too much.”
“He stole my fucking clothes, and now he’s trying to steal your blood.”
“Yeah, to help me—”
“To control you,” he hisses. “Birdie, you have no idea what’s happening right now. Blood is used in magic to bend the will of another being. Ask Dáinn if you’re curious how it works.”
I glance to Dáinn and see the pain in his eyes. Is that how Ludmilla is controlling him? She’s using blood?
Jasper leans closer. His gaze softens as he brushes his knuckles along my cheek.
“Don’t ask me to sit back and watch this mage take something away from you, something that could take you away from us.
Blood is off the table, understood? I don’t care if we never solve the mystery of who and what you are.
There will be another way. Are we agreed? ”
After a moment, I wrap my hand around his wrist and nod. No matter how rational Baz might sound, I have to admit that I’m out of my element here. I have to trust Jasper. “Yeah, okay. No blood.”
Jasper looks to the wraith. “Dáinn? Agreed?”
Dáinn’s expression still looks pained as he steps in closer. He’s seemed withdrawn and out of sorts almost from the moment we arrived at Baz’s magic fun house. “I have to tell you both something. I . . . think I did wrong.”
“What did you do?” I whisper.
He groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “I lied.”
“You lied?” Jasper echoes, his shoulders tensing.
“I withheld the truth about our reason for coming here tonight,” Dáinn explains. “And truth always, we said. I promised you both that, and at the first test of my honor, I’ve failed.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” says Jasper. “Dáinn, what did you do?”
Baz appears in a haze of purple smoke on the other side of the bar. Wiping a glass with a rag, he holds it up to the light, inspecting its crystalline shine. “I believe Dáinn is trying to tell you about the deal we struck.”
My heart drops as I look to the wraith. “What deal?”
The jazz quartet disappears in another puff of smoke.
Then Baz smiles, setting the glass aside.
“The deal where, in exchange for the gorgeous render you now see him sporting, Dáinn would bring you to me and let me watch him devour you. My only question is which one of you will he pick? Because I swear this to you now, someone is getting eaten ere the sun rises.”
At his words, a heavy metal clank sounds around the room. I shriek, heart in my throat, watching as iron bars seal off all the exits, trapping us inside this magical speakeasy.