41 Dáinn #3
He lifts both hands in surrender, backing away.
“Okay, you’re right. I’m boring, and ungrateful, and I suck most of the time.
” He drops his hands back to his sides. “But if you thought haunting me where I can see you would make us instant friends, then that’s your problem.
If you know me so well, then you know I’m a jaded, stubborn pain in the ass with no friends.
So, just keep that in mind, yeah? Don’t go romanticizing this.
I’m not trying to hurt you or deny you your whimsy. I’m just . . . me.”
I cross my arms, glaring at the witch. I hate that he’s right. This isn’t entirely his fault. “It’s possible I’ve been warned in the past about my propensity to over-romanticize my relations with mortals.”
He smirks, offering a curt nod. “That’s all I’m saying. But I’ll try a little harder, okay? We can both try to meet the other where he’s at. I’ll get you a burner phone first thing in the morning. That way you’ll have my number.”
“And Birdie’s number,” I’m quick to add.
He sighs. “Dáinn, she doesn’t even know you. To her, you’re still just the masked mugger who attacked me in the alley.”
“Yes, well, that changes tomorrow.”
His aura flares with worry. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that, starting tomorrow, Birdie will know me. She’ll know this version of me.” I gesture to my handsomely rendered form.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Well, lucky for me, I’m not asking your opinion,” I reply tartly.
He stiffens.
“Need I remind you that Birdie is mine? Nothing will keep me from her. I know you know what I mean. If I only have nine days left of my freedom, I will spend them with you and with Birdie.”
I can tell he has more to say, but he bites it back. He’s resigned for now to my version of our future. “Fine.” Glancing to the rolled-up blueprints I set aside, he points. “What are those?”
“Oh, these?” I hold them up with a flourish. “They’re only the key to taking down Ludmilla.”
His eyes go wide. “Show me.”
Stepping around the island, Jasper walks over to the table. I follow, and he helps me unroll the blueprints. Together, we use items from the table to hold down the corners. His gaze darts as he takes in every detail. “Is this a hospital?”
“Close. These are the schematics for Saint Gennaro’s, a blood bank over in Winthrop.”
He flips the pages, checking the stamps and notarized approvals. “Wait, these are originals. Not copies. Dáinn, where the hell did you get them?”
“Irrelevant.” Pointing to one of the large rooms on one of the lower basement floors, I tap it with my finger. “This is where we must stage the attack that will get us inside Raven Watch.”
Sighing, he looks back at the schematic. “To get inside Raven Watch, we need to attack a blood bank?”
“Yes. This blood bank is the key, Jasper. Without it, all our plans fall apart.”
“But it’s miles from Fleet Cove. It’s in the middle of the damn city.”
“Do you want to hear my plan, or do you want to keep giving me lessons in geography?”
Growling low, he crosses his arms. “Fine. Well, how do you wanna do this then? Are we looking for something in here? A key or something?”
“No. We’re laying a trap.”
His eyes go wide. “A trap?”
“Yes, for Ludmilla’s cronies. We set an attack on her vault, and she’ll send members of her coven to investigate—”
“Whoa, wait.” He holds up a hand. “Her vault? Ludmilla has a vault at a blood bank?”
“Of course. Jasper, she has to perform the blood moon rite every month. Do you know how much blood that requires? And it’s not like she can let the bank synthesize any old blood.
The magic of the rite demands that it be her blood.
She’s mastered the process at this point.
She knows exactly how many of her own platelets must be present in the blood product for the spell to work.
It means that she’s constantly drawing her own blood and having the bank store it for her between each rite. ”
“So . . . you want us to attack her vault? Destroy her backup of blood?”
I nod.
“And that will stop her from being able to do the blood moon rite?”
“No. That will merely destroy her excess cache of blood. When the time for the ritual comes, with no stored blood, she’ll be forced to open her own veins.
This will weaken her tremendously. It is in this moment of weakness that your coven must be in place and ready to attack.
At the very least, we break her bond to me.
Best case scenario? We kill her outright. ”
He considers all this for a moment. “So . . . we attack the vault and destroy the blood. But you said this is a trap. We want to get caught doing this?”
I smile, leaning in. “We want to appear to get caught. When she sends her coven to investigate, and she will send them, we must be ready to fight. We must kill whoever she sends. Only with their deaths can we sneak into Raven Watch and set the trap to snare Ludmilla.”
“A trap within a trap? Sounds complicated.”
“It is. And dangerous. It will require that your coven be ready to fight to the death. They must be ready to kill, Jasper. There’s no way we walk away from this without blood on our hands. Are they ready?”
His expression is solemn as he studies the blueprints. “No one fucks with a Burr Island witch and gets away with it, Dáinn. Well—no one except you,” he adds. “They’re ready.”
No one except me. I get to fuck with a Burr Island witch. I know he didn’t mean it in the literal sense of pressing our naked flesh together. But I may only have nine days left of my freedom, so a wraith can dream.