Neverthorn Chapter 1
I was just yards away from laying my hands on the crème de la crème of gemstones when I smelled trouble.
Literally. The stench of rotten eggs that had me scrambling for cover in the tiny apartment.
The foul odor was the hallmark of a particularly shady binding spell.
It was cast by a half-assed Dwimmer who probably thought I was too dumb to know the difference between magic and a leaky stove.
Fool.
Moving slowly through the third-story apartment that was most certainly not my own, I kept low to the ground, flicking my fingers around my body, concealing myself in shadows.
Was this the right way of casting this particular spell?
No.
Effective as hell?
You bet.
As long as my luck held, and the spell didn’t fizzle out on me.
Untraceable, too, which was rather handy seeing as it wasn’t on the Thaumaturgy Senate’s list of “acceptable” spells.
Creeping along on my belly, I tucked myself under the ruffled bottom edge of a flowered couch cover that must have been manufactured in the seventies.
Then I held my breath. This turned out to be a smart move, as I met the empty gaze of a leathery, mummified rat that had all but melded into the floorboards, right under my nose.
I turned my head and grimaced, watching for feet to pass by the couch, wondering who the hell they might belong to.
The old witch who currently lived in this apartment was well known in magical circles as a collector with an odd way of living.
Unlike most witches, who tended to settle in areas surrounded by our own – Salem, Asheville, or Triora, Italy – she moved around a lot, certain that someone was after her trash heap of “treasures.” She took garbage bags full of junk with her everywhere she went, and regularly burned her homes down – insisting it was the only way to cleanse herself of the spirits that followed her.
Agatha Daisy Faganello was, in short, a weirdo amongst weirdos.
I had followed her here to Rio de Janeiro and had been casing her apartment for the last month, hoping to find the perfect time to slip in, nab what I came for, and get out.
Keeping track of all her movements and habits, taking note of the wards she meticulously placed to protect her treasures before she left every night to collect more junk.
I felt like I knew her.
So, I wasn’t totally surprised when the shoes that finally came into view weren’t the fuzzy bunny slippers Aggie preferred. Nope, scuffed black boots that had to be size twelve or bigger were closing in on the couch.
A crackle of static from a short-wave walkie-talkie burst through the air, then a click of a button.
“No, boss, she isn’t here.”
Native English speakers, and American, like me.
I ignored the little flutter in my chest as the boots went by again. Maybe some holier-than-thou Runecoat hoping to bust Aggie for practicing unsanctioned magic or some bullshit like that?
“The binding spell brushed up against someone, then ... nothing. She must have left already,” Boots continued.
A second voice, male, a bit raspy, came through the walkie-talkie, and it tickled something at the very edge of my memory. Familiar but ... not.
“She didn’t fucking vanish into thin air; she doesn’t have the skill. Find her.”
“Yes, boss.” Another click of the walkie-talkie as the static went silent. “Bastard wizard thinks his shit don’t stink,” he muttered under his breath.
As he made his way around the room, I slid further under the couch, past the rat, stopping at the pile of crumpled-up papers, with a stash of kindling and a packet of matches perched on top.
Aggie at her finest, prepped to burn and run. I settled next to the kindling and held still, straining to hear every movement.
My mind ticked through the possibilities. So, if Boots was a Runecoat, then who was the wizard? Or were the men not magical law enforcement at all. Maybe they were here for the same reason I was?
The Unicorn Diamond was a sweet little piece.
Shaped like the eye of a unicorn, it looked purple but gave off every color of the rainbow when held to the light.
Legend had it, the gem bestowed luck on its owner.
So, while it was worth a cool million plus due to rarity and carat weight, it would command triple that from the right buyer, like the high-stakes poker player who had hired me.
I knew a few things about magical items, but there was magic, and then there were fairy tales.
One you read before bed for shits and giggles. The other could get you killed.
I scrunched up my face as the dust under the couch tickled at my nose.
Breath caught in my suddenly tight chest and my vision began to blur. Pulse pounding, I forced myself to focus on the items I could see and mentally catalogued them.
Dead rat.
Dust bunny.
Pen cap.
The black, scuffed boots came to a stop as the intruder sat down on the couch, the springs poking into my back, pinning me face down to the floor. Sweat slid down the sides of my face as my vision began to flicker, specks of light threatening to pull me under.
Keep it together, Harlow. You can do it. Slow breaths, in through your nose –
“Boss, she isn’t here. I’ve checked everywhere, and the binding spell isn’t latching onto anyone.”
“She’s there. We watched her go in five minutes ago, Brick,” the other man said with a heavy sigh. “Check all the rooms, the closets, anywhere she could hide.”
Again, that voice tugged at some long-buried memory, and they distracted me for a moment. Long enough to focus on the words being spoken.
They weren’t after Aggie or the diamond.
They were after me.
Harlow Chandramallika Daygon. Neverthorn Academy dropout in the magical Dwimmer world at sixteen, black market valuables purveyor in the Unlit human world at twenty-nine.
Sure, I was an amazing thief out here among the Dims – humans, that is.
One of the best. But my work didn’t exactly mark me as worthy of attention from magical types unless said attention came with a heavy dose of scorn.
So then, why were they after me?
The question made breathing impossible, and my upper lip broke out in beads of sweat. I had a minute, two tops, before all Carol-the-human-therapist’s coping tools went straight out the window and I fully lost my shit.
“I’ve already been through the whole place ...” Brick whined, breaking the ominous silence.
“Look again!”
“Roger that.” A short pause, followed by a muttered, “Asshole.”
“I can still hear you, Brick.”
“Sorry, boss.”
He didn’t sound sorry at all.
“Bring Ms. Daygon in, or don’t bother coming back out.”
Brick stood, easing the springs off my back. I forced myself to stay still until his footsteps faded down the hall before sucking in a gulp of air. Then, I scuttled out from under the couch and swiped a hand over my clammy face.
I had to move fast. From what they’d said, it sounded like there were more men watching the building, and I needed to buy myself some time before they were called in.
Thieving 101: Distractions work wonders.
Grabbing the pile of kindling, some of the crumpled paper, and the matches, I crouched next to the velvet-covered couch and set my fire starters on the cushion. I didn’t dare use a spell until I had to, in case they could trace it.
Striking a match, I lit the crumpled paper and used a single piece of kindling to poke at it, burning the tip to a quick char.
Ears tuned for Brick’s footsteps, I flipped the raggedy crocheted blanket lying across the back of the sofa over the burning pile of wood. Then, I slid back along the linoleum floor. The crackle of flames was barely audible at first, but with the tinder-dry couch, it wouldn’t take long to catch.
Gripping the last piece of kindling, I scooted into the kitchen and pressed my back to the small island.
There was no way I’d be able to get the Unicorn Diamond out now. I frowned and glanced up at the peeling paint on the ceiling.
Unless . . .
Smoke was filling the room rapidly, filtering through the apartment.
“Ah shit,” Brick snarled at the fire, stumbling into view. He had his back to me as he used a spell to put the fire out, his focus entirely on the flames.
Moving light and silent, I leapt over the island onto his back, snaking my arm around his neck, and clamping down as fast and hard as I could.
“Lights out, big guy,” I whispered into his ear.
He only got out one grunt before he went to his knees, buckling under the speed at which I’d cut off the blood to his head. I held him until he was flat on the ground, then dropped him.
I’d have three to four minutes before he came around.
Which meant it was now or never.
“Brick, why is there smoke coming out the window?”
The question crackled over the walkie-talkie. I grabbed it up and, adjusting my voice as low as I could, I hit the button on the side and said, “Looks like Agatha set a booby-trap.”
“Find Harlow; we’re running out of time. The Runecoats will be here soon.”
So, these guys aren’t the magical version of the FBI after all. Who the hell were they?
A new and inexplicable dread spread through me. Still gripping the last piece of kindling as if it were a weapon, I sprinted to the back bedroom where Agatha spent most of her time.
Should I have aborted my mission and just bolted out of there?
Probably. But I wasn’t leaving without the Unicorn Diamond now that I was this close.
The bounty on the purple gem would pay for a house in a safe neighborhood and finally let me turn my temporary shelter for teen runaways into a proper one, with actual beds to sleep on instead of used couches with springs poking through.
Better yet, it would be like a real home for me and my sister, Opie.
When was the last time either of us had that?
I flipped the mattress on Aggie’s bed, feeling along the edges ... and there it was. A tiny tear near where Agatha would lay her head, visible from the side window. Every night I’d seen her reach in and touch what I hoped would be tucked inside.
I stuffed my hand in and pulled out a black velvet pouch. A groan from the other room told me my time was up.
Using my forefinger and thumb, I made a swift pinching motion – my own spell, thank you very much, and again, untraceable – shrinking the velvet pouch and whatever was in it to the size of a marble before repeating the maneuver with my last piece of kindling.
Who knew when I might need to light another fire?
When I was done, I tucked them into the pocket I had sewn into the inside collar of my jacket.
Another groan, static off the walkie-talkie. “She got the drop on me. She’s gone.”
No time to waste, I went straight for the window, slid out and climbed up, using the handholds I’d set into the stone the night before. Once on top of the building, I pulled my phone from my back pocket and hit redial.
“Josh, I’m out. I have it.”
“Good job!” my getaway driver and partner in crime said with a laugh of relief. “Milkshakes on me.”
Just the thought of ice cream blended with strawberries, covered in thick whipped cream, made me feel a little better. I sprinted across the rooftop, the glitter of the night and the hum of the city spilling upward. “I’ve got a tail, so meet me at the back-up site.”
“You got it. See you in five.” There was a hum from the engine of his bike, and then the line went dead.
Five minutes.
A crackle of energy spun me around and suddenly four cloaked figures stood on the building in front of me, each with their right hand extended in the classically trained dueling stance. They were prepping to cast Hecate knew how many spells at once.
“I wish I could stay, but I’ve got people to see and all ...” With a grin, I leapt from the edge of the roof, spinning in mid-air so I could face them as I fell, both middle fingers extended.
Later suckers.
“She jumped, she jumped!”
Before I hit the ground, I wove a quick spell of air, cushioning my fall, praying it wouldn’t fail me. My luck held – thank you, Unicorn Diamond.
I landed on the balls of my feet and was moving before the men on the roof had even taken a step in my direction. Of course, I should have wondered why it had been so easy to get away.
Four more figures were waiting for me on the ground and began flinging binding spells my way the second I rounded the corner. I dodged left, then right, but my feet flew out from under me as I felt a telltale slap at my ankles. A second later, I face-planted into the sidewalk.
So much for Unicorn Diamond luck.