Chapter 19 #2
I watch them moving up and down the street, in and out of buildings, going about their mornings with no idea what’s happening in Faerie, no idea about the little drama playing out up here.
I turn back to face Callum, rest my hands on the windowsill behind me, and tilt my chin up with more confidence than I feel.
“What about you? What are you going to use your half for?”
Callum closes down immediately. His smile disappears. His eyes go dull and half-hooded. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“The same,” he says gruffly. “A better life.”
Whatever the real answer is, I’m absolutely certain it’s not the same as mine.
There’s a non-zero chance he might actually be using his half of the winnings for some nefarious purpose, but by the guarded expression on his face, I’ve got a feeling that asking him about it is going to get me absolutely nowhere.
Still, it’s worth a shot.
“Doesn’t really seem fair.”
“What doesn’t seem fair?”
“That I’ve spent so much of the last day pouring my damn heart out, and I can’t even get a straight answer from you.”
“I—” He opens his mouth, stops short. “It’s… complicated.”
“Complicated in what way?”
“Does it matter?” He averts his eyes. “For the hunt, does it matter?”
“No,” I murmur. “I suppose it doesn’t.”
Why should I care? I’ve made it clear enough I’m not jumping feet-first into this whole mates thing. I’m not out here planning our whole life together or looking at him with big, dopey stars in my eyes.
I don’t owe him anything.
He doesn’t owe me anything.
Callum sighs. “There are… debts I have to pay off.”
Because I can’t help myself, I let my eyes slide around the four walls of his apartment. “On this place? I never would have guessed.”
Another sigh, but I could almost delude myself into thinking there’s a little humor in it.
“No, not on this place. Other debts. Debts I’d be very glad not to have hanging around my neck.”
I think of my own debts.
My debt to the coven—implied, rather than explicit, but a dead weight around my neck all the same.
My debt to my sister—unspoken and complicated, something that will probably take us years, decades, a lifetime to suss out.
My debt to myself—to taking responsibility for figuring out a life that doesn’t include the high, imposing walls of the coven hall.
If I could throw a fae queen’s fortune at any of those debts to erase them, I sure as hell wouldn’t hesitate.
“Okay,” I say, and Callum’s eyes snap to mine.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I can accept that. Better than the bullshit answer you gave me before.”
He looks a little uncertain, but nods slowly. “I’ll try to do better in the future.”
Will he?
Seems unlikely, and Goddess knows how long we’ll actually be partnered up for him to make good on that promise, but it’s something.
What? I don’t know. But something.
“Alright,” I say, finally making my choice. “I’m in. We’ll partner in the hunt. Split the bounty.”
His smile finally reaches his eyes. “Alright,” he echoes. “Glad to have you as a partner, Seren.”
He rises from his seat. And rises. And rises.
I didn’t really notice it last night, but he’s damn near tall enough to reach the ceiling with the curling arch of his black horns and the sweep of his wings.
He crosses the room toward me, extends his hand.
I take it.
Not in the human way, but in a move straight out of the Middle Ages as he grasps my forearm, big fingers circling it completely. I do the same, and my grip barely reaches half-way around the thick muscles beneath my fingers.
Ridiculous, actually. The scale of him. The sheer size of him.
I haven’t been letting myself get close enough to really realize it.
Maybe he knows.
Maybe he hears the slight hitch in my breath or the way my heartbeat stumbles as soon as I’m touching him.
Goddess, I shouldn’t let myself touch him.
Every time I do, I feel it again—that burst of magick, that sparkling tether.
The one I’d rather ignore.
I drop my hand and pace a few steps away.
“So how do we do this? What’s the plan?”
He scratches a hand through his beard at the side of his chin. “I’m open to your suggestions. Seems like you were making better progress than I was in Faerie. At least before… well…”
“At least before I almost got myself killed?”
“You said it, not me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, thinking. “You’re some kind of demon bounty hunter, right? What does that all entail?”
“Mostly paltry jobs for rich bastards with too much time, money, and ego on their hands. Retrieving stolen objects, apprehending the occasional criminal. That sort of thing.”
“Could come in handy,” I say, still thinking. “And you’ve obviously got the muscle I always look for in a henchman.”
It’s meant to be a joke, but I swear Callum preens. He tries to hide it, but his whole face lights up and his shoulders square up and back.
He likes praise, it would seem.
Against my better judgment, I tuck that detail away.
For what? I’m not going to think about it.
“You’ve said a bit about your magick,” Callum says as he retakes his seat at the kitchen table, “but I’m not sure if I understand it fully. How it works, how you wield it.”
I think for a moment. “Name something in this apartment.”
Another arched brow. “What do you mean?”
“A trinket. A piece of clothing. Anything. Name it and give me a brief description.”
“Hmmm… A ring. Gold, with a blue stone.”
“Interesting choice,” I murmur, then close my eyes.
The apartment maps itself out around me.
It’s always been difficult to describe this part of my magick.
This incorporeal sense, the way I can close my eyes and follow the tendrils, follow the webs they create. Like a second sight that only appears when I allow myself to indulge my magick completely, the way it lets me see is entirely other.
Different from my human eyes. Different from any sense spoken language has a way to describe.
I see the way forward in energy, in waves that tug and call to me, speaking directly to my soul as they guide me toward what I’m seeking.
Really freaky stuff, actually.
Enough to unnerve even the most stodgy coven elders.
Enough to intrigue Esme Hawthorn herself.
This magick isn’t like anything they had ever seen, and though back then I was always hesitant to let it unfurl to its full potential, now I don’t hold back.
Damn, it feels good not to hold back.
The tendrils stretch and seek, wisping out around me until they’ve mapped the entire apartment. If I let them, they’d keep going. Out into the neighborhood, the city, the province, the realm. Out into the whole world if they needed to, but for now this will do.
The ring shines like a beacon in the darkness.
In the tall dresser beside the bed. In a drawer. In a wooden case. In a smaller, velvet-lined box. The ring gleams in my mind’s eye all the way until I have it in my fingers, heavy and cool to the touch.
I carry it to Callum.
“Impressive,” he murmurs.
He holds out his hand, and when I drop the ring into his waiting palm, his fingers brush against mine.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough for me to feel his warmth and for a zing of awareness to shoot all the way up my arm and into my chest.
But then he withdraws his hand, and I could almost convince myself I imagined it. I could almost convince myself his pupils haven’t doubled in size and the hitch in his breath is nothing at all.
I could convince myself I don’t feel it, too.
Callum examines the ring. He turns it this way and that in the light, and the brilliant, deep blue stone catches every morning sunbeam.
“It was my grandmother’s,” he says quietly. “She passed when I was very young and left this to me.”
It’s breathtaking.
The ring gleams in the light, the jewel more vibrant than anything I’ve ever seen.
I’ve got about a million and one questions.
Why was this what he chose? Why did he send me after it? Why did his grandmother leave it to him? Was it for someone special, or…
None of those questions are even remotely appropriate to ask, so I choose a different one.
“What was her name?”
The ghost of a smile passes over his face. “Amalin.”
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur. “The ring, and the name.”
He nods, then seems to shake himself out of whatever memories he’s lost in. Standing and crossing the room, he replaces the ring in its box, then turns to face me.
“So, we’re working together now,” he says, and a different kind of zing runs through me.
Unbridled excitement. Unexpected, but unmistakable.
We’re in this together. In the hunt for the fae queen’s heart.
“I suppose we are,” I say, and don’t let myself examine the way something slots into place in the center of my chest.
Damned Goddess and her magick. Damn this finicky bond.
Not that I feel it.
Certainly not.
It’s just a trick of this realm, a trick of the way the light passes over Callum’s face, his lips—almost obscured by his thick beard, but quirked up nonetheless.
“Well then,” he says, rubbing his hands together then crossing to the closet. “We’re going to have to make sure you’ve got some better ways to defend yourself this time.”