57 Birdie
BIRDIE
I’m reeling, still coming down from the high of my orgasm.
Jasper and Dáinn stay close, righting their clothes.
I miss nothing of the way their hands keep finding me.
Jasper’s fingers brush back my hair. Dáinn’s touch is soft on my back.
He slips a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to me.
I wipe the mess of cherry red lipstick from my mouth before handing it to Jasper to do the same.
All the while the mage watches us with a delighted look on his face.
With my men at my back, I square my shoulders at the mage. “Anything else?”
He arches a dark brow. “Else?”
“Yeah, can you tell me anything else about who I am or why I can stop a wraith? We gave you quite a show, I think it’s the least you can do.”
“I know nothing of who you are,” he admits. “But I have my team running all your files as we speak.”
“I—but my adoption files are sealed. So are my juvenile records.”
He just chuckles. “Not anymore.”
“How?”
He gestures to himself with a wave. “I’m a mage, remember?” Then he holds up his cell phone. “I’ve been texting Clarence updates this whole time. The team has already checked your juvenile records. Shoplifting, Birdie? For shame.”
I stiffen. “It’s not like it was for lipstick or magazines. It was food to eat. I was a hungry kid with nowhere to turn.”
Dáinn steps in behind me, his hand a comfort at my back. Baz turns his eyes back to his phone. “If we get anywhere with these records, Clarence will let you know. No favors needed,” he adds at Dáinn.
Dáinn inclines his head. “We thank you.”
The mage tries and fails to conceal his pleased smile.
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind I sent Clarence a few pictures of this.
For research, of course.” He flashes us his phone screen and I see a clear shot of me with Dáinn between my legs.
At Jasper’s growl, Baz lifts a hand. “Easy, friend. I’ll text them to you too. Just give me your number.”
“Fuck off,” he snarls. “And erase those now.”
“Better yet, why don’t I just get prints made? I can swing them by your island. I’m free next week if—”
“You will never be invited to Burr Island.”
I place a hand on Jasper’s arm. “Leave it.”
“Why can she stop me?” says Dáinn.
Baz looks to his friend, his cocky smile fading. “I don’t know.”
“But you must have some idea.” I hate how hopeful my voice sounds.
“It’s entirely possible I have one idea. At the moment, it’s threadbare, hardly worth voicing aloud.”
“Voice it,” I plead.
Setting his phone aside, he crosses his arms. “Very well. At first, I thought you might be mates. It’s unheard of for wraiths, of course, but there’s a first time for everything. Seeing your little display just now, I’m sure that theory is wrong.”
I try to ignore the part of me that feels a little crestfallen. With how crazy this week has been, I won’t deny I’ve been secretly wondering if such a thing were possible. “We’re not mates? You’re sure?”
“Hmm . . . ninety percent,” he replies. “Very few creature natures lend themselves to mates, you see. In most cases, they’re appallingly monogamous.
They present with a ‘can’t eat, can’t sleep, you jump, I jump’ kind of passion that is truly odious to encounter.
Fae and Weres come to mind. If you were Dáinn’s fated mate, I believe the very idea of the witch touching you would lead to spines being ripped out. ”
“Hey, that’s what I said,” says Jasper.
Dáinn huffs, arms crossed. “I don’t rip out spines. I’m a civilized wraith.”
“Of course, there are some creature types that embrace polyamory,” the mage goes on. “I’m thinking specifically of gargoyle clans and basilisk nests. But those matings typically aren’t fated. They’re simply a group of compatible creatures who choose to build a home in and with each other.”
My mind hums as I think through the plot of every monster romance book I’ve ever read. Summers get slow, and I have very few friends, so I’ve read a lot. “So . . . you’re saying we could be a non-fated polyamorous wraith clan?”
He shrugs. “If you like.”
“And . . . what does that have to do with my ability to stop Dáinn from devouring souls?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
I stifle a groan. “But you said you had an idea!”
“I do. I have one.”
“Well? What is it?”
He shrugs as if he’s wholly indifferent. “I think you’re an accident.”
I arch a brow as Jasper and Dáinn step in behind me. “An accident?”
“Yes, I think you’re the result of a magical experiment gone wrong . . . or perhaps right,” he adds under his breath. “Not the product, surely. More like the byproduct.”
I try to puzzle out his meaning. “You think I’m the byproduct of a magical experiment gone wrong? Is that even a thing? Risky magical experimentation?”
He laughs. “Oh, Birdie. Have you never read Frankenstein? I’ll lend you my copy.” He magics the book into his hand. “I’ll want it back though. It’s a first edition signed by Shelley.”
Sighing, I cross my arms. “Thanks, I’ve read it.”
With a twirl of his hand, the book disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.
“Just explain,” I press. “No riddles. Why do you think I’m the result of some magical experiment gone wrong?”
“Because I’ve been around for a very, very long time. And at present, nothing else explains why you can stop a wraith.”
“So, you think I was, what? Engineered this way? Like, genetically?”
His eyes glow. “If I could have a sample of your blood, we’d know for sure.”
Jasper steps forward. “How many times do we have to say no to you, mage?”
The two of them bicker, but my mind is spinning, making me dizzy. Reaching out, I touch Jasper’s arm. “Just let me process for a second.”
He rounds on me. “Birdie, no. We agreed.”
I look to the mage. “What tests would you run on my blood? What would you be looking for?”
“I would run a simple DNA test to find out more about your family.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to track down a living relative.” His gaze darts to Dáinn. “And I want to set your wraith loose upon them.”
I lean away, heart in my throat. “Why would you do that?”
“Because then we’ll know.”
“Know what?”
“We’ll know someone was experimenting with humans. This kind of magic often stays in the blood,” he explains. “Meaning it stays in families. If we can isolate the bloodline, we may be able to trace back to the original source.”
“You think something in my blood lets me stop him?”
The mage nods. “If you can stop a wraith, I imagine anyone bearing your blood can do the same. That would confirm my theory that you are merely a byproduct of this magic . . . a happy little accident. I’d like to search for the source.”
Taking a deep breath, I hold his gaze. “And you could do this? You could find my family? With my blood, you could track them down?”
“Yes.”
My heart is racing. I won’t deny I’ve considered this before—not the magical experimental byproduct part.
That’s crazy, and I’ll freak out about it later.
No, the missing family part. In college, I even bought one of those at-home genealogy kits, but I chickened out.
I’m a glass-half-empty kind of girl. I pessimistically decided that whatever blood family I have out there is probably as bad as or worse than the one that raised me.
But I am curious . . .
And this mage’s lab screening equipment has to be far superior to anything some mail-order genealogy kit can provide. Is it really the craziest idea?
“How sure are you that you can do this?” I ask.
Baz taps his chin with a long finger. “Hmm . . . I’ll say eighty-two percent? But I’m one hundred percent sure you’ll find nothing without me.” With a flick of his wrist, he magics the blood drawing kit back into his hand. “One little prick, Birdie. Then we’ll unlock all your secrets—”
“No.”
I gasp. “Jasper—”
The witch grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me back against the solid wall of his chest. “This isn’t happening.” He walks me back a few steps, and all at once I’m sucking in air, no longer suffocating under the weight of Baz’s magic.
I look to the lounging mage. “I—wait—were you using magic on me?”
“It’s called a lure,” says Jasper. “Magical manipulation. Sorry, he’s really fucking subtle. I almost missed it.”
I’m spinning, head aching. “You—ass! And this is how you get us to trust you?”
Baz growls low. Purple sparks flash around him like angry, blinking stars. “Why is the witch still here? Who even invited him?”
Jasper steps in front of me. He’s just as fearsome as the mage, his body humming with the static of a storm.
It raises the fine hairs on my arms. “Birdie may not be my fate-blessed mate, but she is mine.” His voice carries an echo of distant thunder I feel in my chest. “Do you hear me, mage? She and Dáinn may want to trust you, but I sure as hell don’t.
Charm her with your bullshit lures again, and I’ll be the one ripping out your spine. ”
Baz’s annoyance pops like a soap bubble. His expression shifts to one of heated interest as his gaze takes Jasper in from head to toe. “Tell me, witch. Under what star sign were you born?”
“Scorpio,” he replies. “And no, we’re not fucking compatible.”
The mage’s smile turns incandescent. “Oh, Dáinn, well done.” He slow claps, shaking his head in delight. “You surprise me, Jasper Prescott. And I’ll admit I’m not often surprised.” He sits forward. “Very well, no more magic. No tricks. I will help you.”
“Fuck you,” Jasper snarls. “We don’t want your help.”
Baz rises from the chaise. “Birdie does. And Dáinn does too. Don’t you, angel?”
Dáinn bristles. “Don’t call me that.”
“Birdie did.”
“Birdie is mine.”
He rolls his eyes. “Gods, you’re all boring me now.
Maybe I was wrong about the mates thing.
Mates are always so predictable and tedious.
” He holds up the blood drawing kit. “Here is my offer, and it’s a good one, so listen close.
You have my interest. Despite my better judgment, I want to help.
So, I will draw a single vial of Birdie’s blood.
With it, I vow to do only a simple DNA test. Once I have the results, I will destroy what’s left of her precious platelets.
I further vow never to use a single drop of her blood in any curses, hexes, spells, jinxes, plagues, or charms. I will add it to no potions.
I will sell it to no other witch or mage.
This I vow to you on my life and my magic.
Do we have a deal?” He reaches out his hand, angling it at me.
I stiffen, glancing from Jasper to Dáinn.
The mage groans. “Gods, don’t tell me you need another team meeting to discuss. This is a fair offer. More than fair. Dáinn, tell them.”
I look to Dáinn. “You know him best.”
After a moment, he looks to Jasper. “We need his help.”
“Fuck.” Jasper drags a hand through his hair. Then he’s pointing a finger at us. “You two are gonna put me in an early grave for real, I swear on the fucking goddess.”
“By all means, keep wasting my time,” calls the mage. “It’s not like I had plans of my own tonight.”
Dáinn turns his back to Baz, and the three of us stand with shoulders touching, like we’re in a real team huddle. I have to fight the silly thrill I feel at being included. Not just included but wanted. Centered. They each have a hand on me as they lean in.
“Even if Baz doesn’t have answers for us now, I trust him to get them,” says Dáinn.
He looks down at me. “I would do this myself if I could, my Birdie. I would scour the earth for the answers we both seek. But all my focus must be for Jasper and stopping Ludmilla. He needs me. I cannot afford any more distraction until my bond is broken.” He looks back to our witch. “We need Baz’s help.”
“Fuck,” Jasper says again. “I’m abstaining from this fucking vote. I can’t have it on my conscience that I said yes to trusting a mage.” He points with that finger again. “But when this turns sideways on us, I reserve the right to fuck you both up the ass as I say, ‘I told you so.’”
Dáinn nods. “Punishment fits the crime. I accept.”
Turning on my heel, I hold out my arm to the mage. “Do it, Baz. Take my blood. Run your test.”
His grin lights up his face. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”
I blink and he’s right before me, towering over me, his needle already pinching into my arm before I even have time to take a breath. “Ouch—”
“Oh, that didn’t hurt,” he teases. He taps the little vial, and my blood starts to fill it.
Jasper steps in, eyes only for the mage. “Second rule of magic: You can’t get something for nothing. Cross us in this, hurt them in any way, and what you’ll get from me is a slow, painful death.”
Retracting the needle from my arm, Baz disappears the vial of blood in a puff of purple smoke. Smiling, he pats Jasper’s cheek. “You can’t kill me now, witch. I’m part of the team.”