Chapter 7 The Sorcerer’s Secret
The Sorcerer’s Secret
Anticipation made me feel restless and jittery as I watched Lucien light up an old, dusty unused candle I had put on the kitchen counter. His face was set in concentration as he lifted the shadow mark–filled bottle and, very carefully, tipped its opening over the small flame.
I’d tensed, bracing myself for whatever was to come, when I saw the oddest thing happening. The shadow mark liquid, once poured from the bottle onto the flickering flame, dissolved into thin air, leaving tiny, dark particles in its place that floated aimlessly until they disappeared.
Wonder filled me as I looked on while the liquid slowly vanished, not taking my eyes off the oddly beautiful sight until the last drop made it out to the fire.
Lucien was the first to break the silence. “This type of portal leads to the Underearth,” he said quietly, and I snapped my eyes up to meet his. “I don’t know what it’s doing in a human neighborhood, but no human should come into contact with it.”
My lips parted in surprise as I searched his gaze. A gold glimmer entered his eyes from the flame. “I don’t understand,” I confessed now, so many questions running through my head. “Portal? Underearth?”
Lucien blew air over the candle, and the flame disappeared. The stench of smoke filled the air in the kitchen as he made his way back to the living room and settled down on the couch. “It’s time we talk.”
I followed him, feeling a little unsettled. Not by him, though; for whatever reason, I felt oddly at ease with his presence, be it human or wolf. But rather by the impending talk.
Taking a seat on the sofa, my ass had barely touched the cushion when he asked, “How much do you know about my kind?”
Spine stiff, I found his gaze, which now was cool and calm, the complete opposite to what I was feeling. “Your kind specifically, nothing,” I told him, fidgeting with the seam of my shirt. “But I have been researching the supernatural for a few years now, so I found some stuff out.”
He eased onto the couch, careful not to lean on his injured back, and put one long, strong leg over the other while spreading his arms over the back of the couch.
The movement caused the robe to slide loose a bit in the chest area, revealing a glimpse of hard abs dusted with hair only a few shades darker than his skin.
The sight made something tug deep in my gut, and I felt my cheeks heat up.
Before I drooled and panted like a starved animal, I tore my gaze away.
His voice, when he spoke, helped me focus back on the subject at hand. Especially when his words rang with an ominous tone. “First of all, where did you find the portal?”
Since I now knew he meant the shadow mark, I could at least answer that. “Right where I found you.”
Chancing a look up at his face, refusing to let my eyes roam back to the tantalizing chest, I saw his face take on a dark expression. “This is bad news,” he said, his arms falling to his sides as he leaned forward. “Actually, it’s the worst news.”
My heart pounded in sudden alarm. “What do you mean?”
Lucien didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth, grabbing his chin as his face set in grim, deep thought.
“This type of portal appears only when the Syndicate is involved.” He paused, glanced at me, and added, “The Sable Syndicate,” as if I was supposed to know what that meant.
“When I mentioned I knew some stuff,” I said, drawing his full gaze, “it means that I studied the supernatural world on my own.”
He cocked his head, pretty curls falling to the side. “How do you mean?”
Swallowing hard, I jumped to my feet and strode to my desk. Grabbing my notebooks—the sigils I copied and named and theories I gathered from all the research I’d done—I handed them to Lucien and sat back down, watching as he carefully read through them.
Silence stretched in the room, and the more he read, the wider his eyes became. His face slacked further and further in shock with every page he flipped until, long minutes later, he finally looked back at me. “You’ve done all this?” he asked, stunned. “On your own?”
I nodded, ignoring the uncertainty I began to feel.
He probably thought I was a joke. He might be a part of the very thing I’d been studying for years, but that warranted even more disdain.
Because I was merely a human woman trying to delve into a world that wasn’t hers.
If I were him, I would think I was either presumptuous or stupid.
But to my surprise, Lucien said, “While all terms and definitions are entirely off, especially when it comes to Spellscripts, this is outstanding work.” He studied me as if he saw me for the first time.
He turned so he faced me fully, his gaze serious.
“Drew,” he suddenly said, and the way his lips shaped my name made heat flare up between my legs.
“Why have you been doing so much research?”
My heartbeat picked up. This was a loaded question. A very loaded one. One I didn’t want to answer.
So I deflected. “How do you know my name?”
Lucien frowned. “I heard Chase calling you that.” He paused for less than a second before he added, “Like I heard you calling him by his name.”
“Huh,” I murmured in response, looking away, trying not to think back to what he’d asked.
But Lucien obviously did, because he said, “Why are you avoiding the question?”
Panic made my heart flutter, and my eyes returned to find his, which were now filled with both confusion and curiosity.
Telling him the real reason wasn’t an option, so instead, I redirected the question into something less personal. “I’m a columnist for The Hallowing Hour,” I replied quietly. “It’s a magazine that studies the supernatural and reports incidences of potential paranormal activity.”
He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak before he closed it and took a deep breath, seeming to have changed his mind. After a few more silent moments, he finally said, “I didn’t know such a magazine existed.”
That wasn’t surprising. “It’s not particularly famous,” I told him. “It’s very niche.” That’s to put it mildly; we had barely reached five thousand subscribers last month, and that was after the magazine had been running for ten years.
Lucien seemed to mull it over before he spoke again. “This changes things.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “Changes what things?”
His face grew serious, grave even, as he stared at me.
But before he could answer, a knock on the door interjected.
For a few long moments, both Lucien and I froze, staring at one another with wide eyes, like deer caught in the headlights and waiting for the danger to go away. But the knocking didn’t stop, and soon we could hear Chase calling through the door, “I know you’re home! Open up!”
“What should we do?” I whispered, feeling my face grow pale. In the last three days, Chase had visited a few times to check in on me and the wolf. But now the wolf was gone, and instead there was Lucien, fully fledged walking eye candy.
Lucien seemed to compose himself quickly and rose to his feet, roping the robe around himself. “Open it,” he said grimly, luminous eyes on the door.
Swallowing hard, I stood up as well, wondering what he was thinking of doing. But since Chase continued knocking, I could hardly think myself, and simply went to the door and pulled it open.
Chase strode inside without even looking at me, his dark eyes fixing on Lucien. He kicked the door shut and folded his arms, his muscles bulging as he gave him a once-over. “You know the protocol” was the first thing he said.
I glanced between the two of them. Lucien didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he seemed to brace himself for something. “I know,” he said slowly, “but I need you to answer a few questions first.”
My neighbor did not like hearing this. I could tell by how his face turned into a deep scowl. I wanted to speak just then, to ask what the hell was going on, but the words got stuck in my throat as the tension rose in the room, making it hard to breathe. My instincts told me to keep quiet.
“I’m willing to answer,” Chase now said, though his tight voice and expression seemed to indicate anything but, “but first, I need to erase her memories, so I need your blood.”
My heartbeat quickened as I watched Lucien’s face darken in anger. “Answer me first. Why is a sorcerer living in this dump?”
His words caught me so off guard, I whipped my head toward Chase, eyes widening, as shock rippled through my body, making it hard to stand on my two feet. Chase was a sorcerer? An actual, honest-to-God supernatural being?
It made no sense!
Chase’s face didn’t change, but his eyes flashed. “Why is it any of your business, wolf?”
I jumped again, though now with far less shock. Because if he was a sorcerer, then it wasn’t surprising he knew Lucien was a werewolf . . . but then again, I had so many questions . . .
“It might not be, but if you want to draw my blood for your creepy spells, then you have to answer.” Lucien’s voice cut through my whirring mind.
A short, loaded silence spread through the room as Chase stared at Lucien with barely contained fury, before, to my shock, he motioned with his hand toward me. “I’m here to keep an eye on dear Drew here.”
This time, the shock was so big, I couldn’t keep silent anymore. “I beg your finest pardon?” I spluttered, staring at Chase. “What the hell does that mean?”
But the one who answered wasn’t Chase. “Because of the occult-focused pieces you write for your magazine,” Lucien said, drawing my gaze to him.
He looked at me with a grim, almost pitying gaze.
“Even if your magazine isn’t popular, it makes sense the American Supernatural Society keeps track of your, and your colleagues’, movements. ”
My jaw fell down, and I turned to look at Chase.
“So you’re a supernatural being,” I said slowly as I tried to digest the information, and the indignity I was starting to feel made my face heat up with rage.
“And yet you kept mocking me, telling me I’m delusional, that the supernatural isn’t real, when you are one? ! What the fucking hell, Chase?!”
Chase did not seem apologetic whatsoever.
“It is for your own safety, Drew,” he said quietly now, taking a step toward me.
“Knowing about our kind would bring you nothing but trouble. I tried to dissuade you. You’ve been poking too much into stuff that is way out of your league; you’re bound to find yourself in real danger. ”
I closed the distance between us and pushed him with all the frustration and anger that were boiling inside me now.
Or tried to push him, since he didn’t budge.
“You’re a liar and a fraud!” I snarled at him, glaring at his infuriatingly calm face.
“Didn’t it ever occur to you that I was writing for that magazine in the first place to actually draw that danger towards me? !”
His calm disappeared, replaced by confusion. “What?”
I pushed at him again, and this time he took a step back just to humor me, though it angered me further. “Fuck you, Chase,” I spat, and turned toward Lucien, who glanced between Chase and me with a narrow-eyed look and a ticking jaw.
For some reason, seeing the wolf’s face, ticked off as it was, made me feel a little better, and I walked to stand next to him, grabbing his hand in mine, before I turned to Chase again, whose eyes were now on our linked hands, and hissed, “Get out of my apartment.”
Chase didn’t move, instead folding his arms again.
Before I could erupt again, Lucien squeezed my hand and walked toward him. “I have always hated how righteous you and the rest of those who work for the Council are,” he said, face serious. “Everything you just revealed now makes my hatred grow even more.”
Chase’s lips curled. “Whatever you feel about me or the Council doesn’t really matter, Delterre,” he said coolly. “So now that I answered your question, it’s time I take your blood.”
Lucien smiled. It was a very sinister smile. “I have more questions, though.”
Impatience entered his face as Chase said, irritated, “The time for questions is over.”
The werewolf shrugged. “Then you leave me no choice.”
For a moment, the two men were simply staring at one another.
Then, between one blink and the next, Lucien grabbed Chase’s head and hurled him into the floor so hard, a crack appeared in the lamination.
I gasped as Lucien flattened the rest of Chase’s body to the floor with his own strong muscles, restraining Chase as he tried to thrash against his hold, while smashing Chase’s head against the floor over and over again until his body turned limp and blood pooled under his head.
Staring at the blood, I could barely get my thoughts together as Lucien jumped to his feet and started taking Chase’s clothes off. “Pack a bag, Drew,” he said, voice terse with hurry. “We need to leave. Now.”
My brain did not compute his words. “Why?” I asked, lips dry, as I saw him dressing up in Chase’s clothes. His build was similar, though Lucien was taller, so he stretched Chase’s dark tee and jeans a little.
Lucien pulled Chase’s sneakers off and put them on. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory,” he said hastily, “considering he wants to wipe your memories of not just me, but probably anything you have to do with the supernatural.”
My heartbeat picked up again, and I moved just then, grabbing my notebooks and bandages for emergencies, packing my laptop, and every charger I needed, in a duffel bag.
The moment I told Lucien “I’m done,” he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me over his shoulder like a fireman before I could protest.
I gasped, wincing in pain as his shoulder dug into my stomach, while I saw the back of his shirt growing soaked with his own blood from the still-raw wound. “Lucien, you’re bleeding! Put me down—”
“No time” was the only thing he said before we fled my apartment.