Chapter 30
Callum
Boston, apparently, is a city.
A big city, according to Seren. It’s in the state of Massachusetts, in the nation called the United States, on the continent of North America.
All the details are hard to keep straight, especially when the world passing outside my window is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
We’re back in Seren’s car, speeding down an expanse of paved road wider by far than anything that exists in the demon realm.
Other cars drive alongside us and pass us going in the opposite direction.
Fast, so fast, in a way that makes me feel strangely nauseous.
I go back and forth between watching the road and taking in everything flashing by, and keeping my eyes shut as I try to stave off the rolling of my stomach.
The realm we pass through is filled with alternating stretches of countryside and city, with the dense urban areas growing up out of the landscape like great towering forests of concrete and brick and glass and metal.
Lights and colors and cars and people. A world filled to the brim and spilling over.
I don’t know if it’s a good thing.
They are marvels, these metropolises, but as I stare and stare out the window, some part of me craves the simplicity of a mountain peak or shaded forest.
Perhaps this is just how humans live, though. Certainly, there are some demons who prefer the bustle of the city to the quiet of the wilderness, but even our largest cities aren’t like this.
Seren narrates the sights as we drive on, explaining things like suburbs and shopping malls and fast-food restaurants and public transit.
It’s all a little too much for me to follow or fully retain, but I like the sound of her voice and this glimpse into her realm, even if all it does is overwhelm me.
After a few hours, we reach the outskirts of the city she calls Boston, and she explains that, too, telling me she booked accommodations in the heart of the city where we can start our search for the wielder.
“I still don’t know exactly where we’re going,” she says as we sit nearly at a standstill in traffic, the cars around us so numerous they’ve clogged the road entirely. “But I know someone we can talk to who might give us an address.”
“It’s a good start,” I tell her, trying not to be too obvious as my eyes trace her face.
I’ve been watching her carefully since we left Beech Bay, since she called on the magick that set us on our path to Boston.
It was an impressive thing to behold, to feel, how much raw energy she harnessed to give us an idea of where we needed to look for the heart.
But it took a toll on her.
In her shaking muscles and the sweat on her brow, in the way she was pale afterwards, clinging to my hand as she settled back into her body.
She tried to shrug it off in that oh-so-Seren, cavalier way she has, but I’m not buying it.
My witch is powerful, strong, and capable, but she’s also been through hell the last couple of days. She can’t be in any fit shape to use that much power without consequence.
Not that she’d listen to me or anyone else about it, and not that we have any time to waste with the hunt still in full swing, but I hated seeing her do that to herself.
All of it makes me antsy. The drive and what waits for us in Boston. My mate pushing herself harder than she should. All the unknowns about what we’ll face in the city and what we might face afterwards if we get a clue that will lead us to the heart.
Truthfully, I’ve been off-kilter since even before we got into the car and left Beech Bay.
This morning was a mistake.
Not because I wish I could take it back or I didn’t enjoy making Seren come on my tail. Quite the opposite, actually.
It was a mistake because I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop hearing all the noises she made behind my hand. I can’t stop scenting her on me, all over me, and it’s distracting me to no end.
Beside me in the driver’s seat, Seren sings along to the music coming from within the car’s complicated mechanics, hair whipping around her in the air coming in through her cracked-open window.
She looks as if she hasn’t got a care in the world, as if she isn’t being eaten up from the inside out by the memory of what we shared this morning.
Until she catches my eye.
It doesn’t happen often, but when her gaze slides from the road ahead of us to meet mine, it’s filled with wicked knowing, with desire, with the same thread of insanity that’s kept me in chaos since we parted with the heat and the dampness of her still coating the end of my tail.
And just like that, I’m reminded what a mistake it was to let myself get carried away. To let us get carried away.
How am I supposed to focus on anything else?
How am I supposed to concentrate on the hunt, on keeping her safe, on keeping my head up for any threats with this terrible, wonderful distraction haunting my every waking moment?
With those thoughts hounding me, I turn my attention back outside the window and watch Boston materialize around us.
From outlying areas of the city filled with increasingly dense clusters of homes and buildings, all the way to the heart of the city itself, filled with concrete and cars and skyscrapers, as Seren calls them.
She navigates the car through narrow streets, then pulls it into an underground chamber of some sort, bringing it to a stop in a long row of other cars and turning off the ignition.
“Well, we’re here,” she says, watching my face carefully. “You alright?”
Can she sense my unease?
Perhaps my star is learning to read me just as well as I read her. Or perhaps she’s just feeling what I’m feeling now that we’ve stopped and the energy of this place is easier to grab hold of.
Magick, so much magick.
The kind that always gathers in places like this, where demons or humans or other beings congregate and live.
Even if they don’t actively wield it, every creature has magick within them, a force of their life and their soul that creates a unique signature and leaves its traces behind wherever they go.
There are so many traces in a place like this. Centuries of traces, ley lines of power that would only take half a thought to open a portal and step through, flowing all around us.
The tangle of all that power is overwhelming.
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “It’s just… a lot.”
“If you’d rather we didn’t—”
“It’s alright. I’ll let you know if it becomes too much.”
I would have to be on death’s very door to make that confession, and perhaps Seren knows as much—my witch who’s too stubborn for her own good and never backs down from a fight—but she takes me at my word.
We climb out of the car, and I stretch muscles sore from sitting in one place for so long, unfurl invisible wings, and whip my currently nonexistent tail behind me to expel some of my excess energy.
“Where do we go from here?”
Seren’s already got her rectangular device—something she told me is called a cell phone—in her hand and is tapping on it.
“I’ve got someone who might be able to help with that. Come on.”
She takes my hand, and I’m powerless to do anything but follow her up and out of the chamber to the street level above.
There are people everywhere. Old and young, all different skin tones and hair colors. Most of them have muted energy signatures that mark them as mundane, as Seren calls them, not actively practicing witches or wielders.
The day is cool but comfortable, springtime here in this realm. Above, a bright blue sky is filled with white, fluffy clouds and sun shining down over the city.
We walk from where we left the car, down several crowded streets, until we reach a wide-open green space. It’s dotted with people and criss-crossed with walkways running from one end to the other.
“Boston Common,” Seren explains as we head down one of the paved paths that leads toward a large fountain surrounded by benches. “The person who can help us said he’d meet us here.”
I’m only half-listening, most of my attention spent watching the people we pass, the buildings surrounding the common, the ceaseless bustle of life all around us.
It’s only when Seren’s steps slow that my attention is drawn back to her.
A shadow passes over her expression. “I’ve got a feeling you’re not going to like this.”
After giving that ominous warning, Seren steps ahead of me and raises her hand in greeting to someone heading toward us on the sidewalk.
A human man.
He’s of average height and build, annoyingly not all that different from my own in this glamoured state. Medium brown hair and a friendly enough face, split into a smile when he sees Seren approach.
His magick is different from hers.
It’s obvious as soon as he gets close enough for me to sense it.
Still with the same metallic note all human magick possesses, but notably duller and with a less aggressive edge than my witch’s.
It gives me a fierce sense of satisfaction to know that between the two of them, this man is obviously out-matched.
Seren gestures to me while addressing the man. “This is Callum.”
I try not to let myself be disheartened at the introduction.
Just Callum.
Not her mate.
Not even her partner in the queen’s hunt.
Just Callum.
“And Callum, this is my friend Gavin.”
Her friend Gavin. The word sticks in the back of my mind, caught in the conversation we had after arriving in this realm, and when I arch a brow at her, color stains her cheeks.
The wielder—Gavin—also gives her a look that’s not very hard to interpret, obviously as perturbed by his own introduction as I was by mine. Nonsensically, a wave of possession washes over me.
Seren can have as many friends as she wants.
Men. Women. Demons. Humans. Hell, she can befriend a troll or a fae or an ogre for all I care.
But she only has one mate, and I want the entire world to know it.
I wrap an arm around her waist, wishing like anything it was my tail so I could encircle her completely, tether her to me, show everyone around in the demon way that this witch is mine.
Seren stiffens a little at the touch, but almost immediately melts into it. She glances up and shoots me an amused, affectionate look. I try very, very hard not to let it inflate my ego before turning back to the man.
“So,” she says. “You’ve got an address for me?”
The wielder’s smile fades. “I… might. But I still don’t think this is a great idea. Everything I said about Faerie still stands.”
I bite back a growl. Who is he to question her?
We’re on Seren’s turf now, though, and I have to let her lead. She has some sort of history with this man, and she likely knows better than I do what sort of encouragement he needs to give us the information.
“Noted,” she says with a winsome, cocky smile. “I think I can handle it.”
The wielder doesn’t look entirely convinced. “If you say so. And the other matter we discussed? You’ll have the shipment sent to the Archwielder?”
“Consider it done.”
He narrows his eyes. “I know we’re friends, Seren, but the Archwielder is going to need more than your word and my trust in you.”
Seren sighs and pulls her cell phone from her pocket. “Fine. How about if I connect my supplier to the old bastard and let him coordinate the shipment himself?”
Gavin frowns at Seren’s disrespect, but concedes with a reluctant nod. “I can take that proposal to him and get his approval.”
“How long is that going to take?”
“Not long. I can have the name and the address to you by midnight.”
Seren hums unhappily. “That long?”
“Oh, by all means,” Gavin deadpans. “If you’d like to come talk to the Archwielder yourself, you’re more than welcome. I’m sure your particular brand of charm would win him over.”
“I don’t like your tone.”
Both Seren and Gavin look at me, as if they’d forgotten I was here while they negotiated. Gavin scowls, and though Seren tries to hide it, she can’t quite disguise the smile that threatens at the edges of her lips.
For the first time since we’ve been standing here, Gavin seems to really look at me. And though the glamour still conceals my true form, he must be able to tell there’s something not quite human about me.
“Where’d you say you were from, Callum?” Gavin asks.
“He didn’t,” Seren cuts in before I can offer an answer. “And neither did I.”
“So rude of me for forgetting to ask. Callum, where exactly is it that you—”
“Listen,” I cut in, fully tired of hearing this man’s voice. “I promise you I’m not the worst thing that’s going to come through the Veil looking for this wielder, should anyone else get wind it’s him they’re all looking for.”
Gavin pales. “Who—or what—else exactly can we expect to see come through the Veil?”
“No one, if we get to the wielder first,” Seren says.
“And what are you going to do when you find him? I can’t in good conscience tell you where he is if you plan to kidnap him or hurt him in some way.”
“We won’t hurt him,” I say. “We just want to talk to him.”
Gavin still doesn’t seem convinced, so I try again.
“Send another wielder to his home, if you want to have assurance he’ll remain unharmed. They can stand guard, listen in on our conversation, whatever they need. We just want the chance to speak with him.”
After turning it over in his mind for a few more moments, Gavin nods.
“Fine. I’ll bring all of this to the Archwielder. If he agrees, you’ll have the information tonight.”
With that, Gavin takes his leave.
If it’s the last time I see him, all the better.
He walks off down one of the paths branching out from the plaza around the fountain, blending into the city’s afternoon crowd.
Seren lets out a long breath. “Well, that could have gone better.”
“Could have gone worse, too,” I offer in consolation. “What sort of shipment did you promise as incentive for information on the wielder?”
She smirks. “Crystals. The same ones their rogue wielder was stealing from the demon realm last year. Only now they have to pay through the nose and humble themselves by wheeling and dealing and begging to get them.”
I huff a laugh. “Something Rhett and Joan are helping you out with?”
It was one matter we discussed last night—the work both Rhett and Joan have been doing with the demon court, the amends that are being made even now for the strained relationship caused by the thefts and the subsequent fallout between the court, the coven, and the wielders.
“You know it.” She takes my hand again and leads me away from the fountain, down a different walkway than we took to get here. “And with the added benefit that this particular shipment circumvented the coven entirely, so they’ll also be put out that they missed the chance to stock up.”
“Clever witch,” I murmur, and her smirk turns into a grin that does dangerous things to the center of my chest.
“The cleverest,” she agrees. “Now, let’s forget about wielders and murderous fae monarchs and crystals for a few hours, and I’ll show you around a human city.”
I’ve never heard a better plan in my life.