56 Birdie
BIRDIE
“Well?” says the mage, a teasing glint in his eye. “Do we need another time-out to discuss?”
I spin in these vintage lace-up kitten heels, watching all the exits seal. Rounding on the mage, I cross my arms over this slinky beaded dress. “Seriously? Why are you being such a dramatic ass right now?”
He blinks, lilac eyes wide. Then he presses a hand to his chest with a flourish. “Me? Why, Birdie Rhodes, whatever do you mean—”
“Oh, save it,” I snap. “Look, I tried being polite. I even tried to take your side. But that’s getting us nowhere fast. So, let’s just cut the crap. Jasper is right, you’ve been an ass since the moment we arrived.”
His grin spreads. “Have I?”
“Yes! You’ve been testing me, flirting with me to goad Jasper, and you’ve been needlessly cruel to Dáinn, reminding him of the torment of his bond. I mean, what’s wrong with you? I thought Dáinn was your friend!”
Dáinn puts a warning hand on my arm. “Enough, Birdie.”
“Yes, human, watch your tone,” Baz sneers.
Dáinn’s hold on me is gentle as he keeps his eyes on the mage. “Baz has never cared for me the way I care for him. To me, this has long been my only friendship. But to him, I am simply one of many delightful distractions; curious when I come, unmissed when I leave.”
A thousand expressions flash on Baz’s face. For a moment, he almost looks heartbroken. “If this is some jest, I’ll have you know I’m not laughing—”
“Neither am I!” Dáinn slams his hands down on the bar, leaning closer to the mage. “I came to you the other night, pride shattered, and I begged you for help. I needed you, Baz. And you only agreed on terms of making a deal.”
“I’m a mage,” he replies with an indignant huff. “It’s what I do.”
“And I’m a wraith,” Dáinn shouts. “But you don’t see me eating the souls to either side of me, do you?
Birdie is human, but you don’t see her hiding with her head in the sand, ignoring the proof of magic all around her.
And Jasper is a Burr Island witch who dared to leave the safety of his island to come here and meet you.
He’s the first in the history of his coven to initiate a non-witch as a member.
Now he’s helping me at great risk to himself.
And he’s asked for nothing in return. He thinks I mean to kill him once I’m free of my bonds, and still he helps!
Birdie too is helping us both with no thought of payment. Because they care about me.”
Leaning farther over the bar, Dáinn points a damning finger at the mage. “I see you now. And you have been a false friend to me, using me to distract yourself because you’re terrified of feeling bored. But, Baz, you’re always bored!”
Baz sneers, the lights around the speakeasy darkening with his mood. “How could I ever be bored? I live a life of wild abandon—”
“You live a life of rote rebellion! Holed up in your tower or hiding in your morgue, you’re scared!
Sacred to live, scared to breathe. Because deep down, you know you want the same thing as me.
You just want someone to care about you too.
Not for the magic you can offer them. Not for the illusions, or the drugs, or the parties—”
“You used me!” Baz’s irises flash deep purple as his chest heaves. “You came to me after two hundred years, and all you wanted was more of my magic. In the end, you’re all the same—”
“I came to you because I trust you!” Shadows pool from the wraith as he glares at his oldest friend.
“You think I don’t know of other places to get a render?
You think I couldn’t find another cloaking charm?
I’m a clever wraith, Baz. And I’ve been around for quite a long time.
I always have options. But I only come to you.
Always only ever to you. Because I care about you.
I wish you would set aside your bullshit and your games and just admit you care about me too. ”
Pride fills me as I look to my wraith. Stepping in, I take his hand, weaving our fingers together. Jasper stands tall at his right, the three of us united as we look to the mage.
Baz shrinks back slightly, his expression turning almost boyish and wary as he glances between us. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to help us,” Dáinn replies. “Not because you’ll get something from us, but because it’s what friends do.”
Cowed, Baz crosses his arms, lips pursed in a pout.
“Now, I made a deal with you,” Dáinn goes on. “And I will honor it. I was always going to honor it,” he adds, squeezing my hand. “Because you are the cleverest mage I know, and having Birdie show you her magic might help us all better understand what she is. Are you still willing to watch?”
After a moment, Baz sighs. “You know I could never resist a curiosity.” Turning to me, he dares to wink and add, “I may even let you leave after.”
Now I’m rolling my eyes. “We all know you can’t keep us here.”
He perks up. “Do we know that? Do you know that?”
“Your magic doesn’t work on Dáinn,” I reply. “The metal gates were a nice touch though. Very scary. Very believable.”
Now he’s grinning. “Careful, Birdie Rhodes. Or I may feel the need to prove you wrong. My wards don’t work on him. But as you can see from his handsome new attire, other aspects of my magic work just fine.”
Deciding to offer him an olive branch, I shrug. “Then it sounds like we both have limitations when it comes to our magic and the wraith.”
“Oh, yes? And what limitations are those?”
“I thought this was a game of show, not tell.”
His sour mood is gone as he snaps his fingers. He disappears in a puff of purple smoke, reappearing back on his chaise, stretched out with a bag of fresh, buttery popcorn. “Take your time deciding on the order of events,” he calls. “I’m ready when you are.”
Now that he’s moved away, I can more fully appreciate the pull of his magic. He’s all but suffocating to be near for too long. I let out my breath in a heavy huff, shoulders sagging.
Next to me, Dáinn groans. “Holy Hera, I am so hard right now. Birdie, feel—” He grabs my hand and tries to bring it to his crotch, but I twist free of his grip.
“God—not here. Seriously?”
Jasper steps in, his hand on Dáinn’s back. “That was impressive.”
“I’ve never stood up to him before,” he admits. “I feel queasy. And like I wish my mouth could sweat. Do mouths sweat?”
“He had it coming,” Jasper mutters, squeezing his shoulder.
I place my hand on Dáinn’s arm as he leans over the bar. “We’re doing this, right? I mean, we definitely know the magic works. Once is a miracle, twice is a pattern.”
“And thrice is a consistent pattern,” he replies with a nod.
“Okay . . . so, we show him. You take a taste, then I’ll stop you. Easy.”
He groans again. “Birdie, I hate this. I only promised him because I was desperate. I needed the render, and this felt like something he couldn’t turn down. You are so rare.” He strokes my shoulder, his fingertips trailing down my arm.
Jasper leans in on his other side, lowering his voice. “I hate to be the stick in the mud here, but you attacked her once already today. Maybe once is enough. After my attack, I felt drained for days.”
“I feel fine,” I assure them both, which only earns me two level glares. “Really, I stopped him. Jasper, I know I can do it again.”
I look to him, but Jasper isn’t focused on me.
His hand is still on Dáinn’s back, his gaze stormy.
And Dáinn’s eyes are locked on the witch.
Shadows pool in his irises, making the whiskey brown turn almost black.
They’re both so still, like lions in the tall grass, waiting for the other to move first.
“What are you saying?” Dáinn finally asks.
“I’m saying Birdie’s had enough for one day,” Jasper replies. “I’m saying devour me instead.”
Heart in my throat, I reach for him. “Jasper, you don’t have to do this—”
“It’s done. We’re not risking you again. Dáinn will devour me, and you’ll show the mage how you stop him.”
“Sweet witch . . .” Dáinn says on a breath. “You would offer your soul to me? Freely?”
That muscle twitches in Jasper’s jaw. “Why not? I’ve been told I have a soul worth savoring.”
“Oh, yes,” the wraith whispers. “The memory of your taste haunts me.”
Jasper’s nod is curt. “Then it’s settled. You devour me, and Birdie stops you. Agreed?”
“Yes.” Dáinn’s voice is a low rasp of need.
Jasper looks to me. “Birdie, agreed?”
This is crazy, but I find myself nodding. “Yeah, okay.”
Stepping behind the wraith, Jasper wraps a hand around my neck and pulls me in, kissing me. I press myself against him, my lips parting to flick with his tongue. He pulls away first, brushing another quick kiss to my forehead. “I trust you, Birds.”
“As do I,” says Dáinn. He’s close enough that a small turn of my head would mean I’m kissing him too. God, I want to. I want to feel his lips. I’m about to lean in for it as he passes between us saying, “Let’s get this done.”
Dáinn leads the way back over to where the petulant mage waits.
“Have you decided?” Baz asks, tossing a few kernels of popcorn in the air and catching them in his mouth.
“We have,” Dáinn replies. “I will devour the witch. Birdie will stop me. You will watch.”
He sits up, magicking a fresh Bee’s Knees into his other hand.
A trio of little magic bees even flit around the glass as he takes a sip.
“Delightful. I was secretly hoping for this outcome. Birdie, sweetest, come sit by me.” Shuffling the popcorn between his knees, he pats the empty spot next to him on the chaise.
“Umm . . . I think it’s best if I stand. You know, in case things get physical.”
At this, his expression brightens even more.
“Things might get physical?” With a snap of his fingers, the chaise we were sitting on disappears, leaving a larger open space in the middle of the carpeted floor.
The music changes to something pop and sexy.
The rhythm is slow, sensual. Relaxing back on the chaise, drink and popcorn in hand, Baz nods.
“You have my undivided attention. You may proceed.”