Chapter 25 #3
My calm demeanor shatters as soon as she’s gone, her words spinning in my head as I transport home.
Thomas returns from meetings smelling like apples and nutmeg, and Isabella is seeing a red-haired inhuman woman who smells like apples and nutmeg.
This can’t be a coincidence. But it’s a serious accusation, and while I know Malakai will believe me if I tell him, I need proof.
I don’t want to accuse them without evidence.
I’ve barely stepped out of the bathroom after washing up and changing when something tugs at me.
For a moment, I think it’s the curse, but when I look at my left hand, a magical shimmer under the skin of my middle finger reveals the tracking spell.
My adrenaline spikes at what this means, and I rush downstairs.
Grabbing a coat in the hallway, I hurry to the circle in the library.
Using the tracking spell as my guide, I step inside, trusting it to lead me to the right location.
Reappearing on the other side of the spell, I find myself in front of a shop in the Underworld. I blink in confusion for a few seconds. I shouldn’t be able to transport myself inside here, or at least that’s what Désirée told me.
I turn to face the shop and recognize it as the liquor store I visited with Malakai.
The bell dings upon opening the door, and Almos looks up from the shelves he’s rearranging.
His greeting dies in his throat when he sees me approach.
His milky white eyes widen, and he takes a step back defensively.
“Oh hell no.” He raises his hands, palms out, in a defensive gesture. “I don’t want any more trouble.”
“Then don’t put your hands on me,” I retort.
Almos is silent for a moment. “You’re alone?”
“And more than capable of taking care of myself, so don’t get any ideas,” I snarl to ensure he understands.
The incubus shakes his head and puts more distance between us, his back nearly against the furthest wall.
“Did a red-haired woman come by here earlier?”
Almos shakes his head again, arms dropping but clearly still on guard. “No red-haired women here.”
I assess him for a moment, trying to determine whether he’s telling the truth. My eyes drop to his hands, and I remember how he touched me last time. Anger surges, and an ice-blue shimmer wraps around one of his wrists.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Almos stutters, fear creeping into his voice.
“Making sure you know your place.”
My magic tightens, cutting his skin, and he grinds his teeth as pain twists his expression.
“It won’t happen again, please,” he begs, his wide eyes and heavy breathing betraying his fear.
“I know.”
His head snaps up at me. “Then why?”
“Like I said, I can take care of myself.”
My magic slices through his skin, flesh, and bone, and his hand falls to the ground with a thud. To his credit, Almos doesn’t scream, though his dark skin pales rapidly. He collapses to the floor with a gasp, clutching his arm to his chest, blood soaking his clothes.
I look down at him for a moment longer before turning to leave, unsure whether to trust him. The tracking spell brought me here for a reason, after all.
With my hand on the door handle, I glance back at Almos. “Any break-ins?”
His breathing is strained, but he shakes his head in response.
“Anything else that might be useful?”
He shakes his head again, slumping farther down. I turn away, but his voice reaches me.
“A man,” he whispers. “There was a man. Dark hair—could have been red, not sure. Stopped—” He pauses as if struggling to remember how to breathe. “Stopped by when I was locking up. Didn’t get a good look. He left when he saw the shop was closed.”
“Came and left by magic?”
Almos nods faintly, eyes closing as he begins to slip away.
Did I get the tracking spell wrong? My chest tightens, and I shake my head.
Then I wave my hand, and Almos’s hand reattaches itself, the wound slowly knitting shut.
His breathing evens out as his own healing kicks in.
He looks up at me, gratitude shining in his eyes. He wasn’t ready to die, not like this.
I hope he remembers that next time he thinks about putting his hands on someone without their consent.
My feet carry me everywhere and nowhere as I contemplate my next move.
The establishments and homes of the Underworld blur past me, all my focus on how I’m going to find that woman.
The tracking spell has a delay, and for some reason, it’s tethered to the wrong person. I don’t understand how that’s possible.
I replay the spell in my mind, searching for mistakes, but I see none. I know it’s correct. It should have been her. Frustrated, I kick the dark sand beneath my feet. Wait, what? Sand?
I look up and see nothing but sand stretching in front of me—a desert. A glance over my shoulder reveals the city behind me. What the hell? Beyond the city lies… a desert?
I observe the scene and, for the first time, realize the city is built in a cave, explaining the ceiling-like structure overhead. Thick, nearly black storm clouds loom above. The farther I move from the city, the darker the clouds become.
A few burning fire pits scatter the sand, providing slight illumination. Beyond the last fire, pitch-black darkness awaits. The air smells like fire and salt, such a peculiar combination. Curiosity itches to explore, but I hesitate.
I plop down in the sand, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs, my coat draped behind me. My eyes focus on the last fire pit on the horizon, the dancing flames calming me, even as my magic continues to flicker at my fingertips.
Gazing from one fire to the next, I think and wonder. If this place is as vast as the human world, how will I ever find her?
A rustling sound behind me sets both me and my magic on edge, my muscles pulling taut, ready to fight or fly if needed. Someone approaches, stopping next to me, but I keep my eyes on the fire pit.
“So you’re the infamous wife who helped my brother escape.” Yblis’s voice is sensuous, darkly compelling, and filled with the promise of pain. It sounds almost similar in this language to how he spoke in Elomadh—slightly less lyrical, likely due to the language itself.
After a few seconds of silence, I turn my head to look up at him. Dark red eyes bore into mine, cold and calculating.
His expression gives nothing away. His light caramel skin radiates heat, and part of his long, dark brown hair hangs over his shoulders. He prefers tailored suits, much like Malakai. This one is a dark ice gray, paired with a black tie and leather shoes.
I find myself noticing how his eyes are the same red as his brother’s skin, and his words echo in my head. “That particular shade of red is a marker for magic gone wrong.”
It makes me wonder as I maintain a blank expression while replying dryly, “Good to know I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Oh, you most certainly do.” Yblis unabashedly looks me up and down. “Which is quite something in our world, especially for a witch.”
A witch. An assumption just like the bounty hunter made. He can likely sense the magic within me, just like her, indicating I’m not entirely human. I don’t correct him—he doesn’t need to know what I am, though he suspects I might be more than just a simple witch.
“What do you want?” I ask, already annoyed by whatever this is supposed to be.
His eyes widen in surprise for a moment, then a cruel smile curls his lips. “I should kick you out for your tone alone. Never mind the fact that you somehow managed to bypass my defenses and transport directly to the Underworld.”
I hold my tongue, and his smile falters as he tsks at me. Ignoring him again, I turn my attention back to the fire pit in the distance. The light flickers in a breeze that isn’t actually there, mesmerizing me.
“You’re as insolent as my brother.” Yblis’s voice drips with disdain. From the corner of my eye, I catch a tick in his jaw, making it clear I’m playing a dangerous game.
He turns away from me, gazing into the darkness. “Thank you for saving her.”
His words and the sudden softness in his voice make me look back at him, but the sound of rustling feathers signals his departure before I can do more than gasp. I’m left alone and utterly confused, blinking at nothing. Then I smile, realizing these brothers share more than a few traits.
Thinking about family leads to wonder. What if they’re siblings?
Malakai said the bloodline of the red-haired pureblood only produces daughters, but what if that’s not the case?
Could twins be an exception? It would explain why the tracking spell targeted a man with an almost identical magical signature.
It’s a stretch, but it’s all I’ve got.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me.
I pull it out to find a message from Creiddyla, informing me that Thomas has left for another dinner meeting.
A second message follows with an address.
I didn’t ask her to keep me updated, but I appreciate immensely that she has taken it upon herself to do so.
Nibbling the inside of my cheek, I examine both, a tightness settling in my gut as I consider what this could mean. If this is one of those meetings, I can’t let this chance slip away.
I send Creiddyla a quick message back to thank her, then stand and dust the sand off myself. Transporting to the location from Creiddyla’s text, since apparently I can, I appear a few feet away from the front door of a human restaurant.
For the first time, I use a glamor to change more of my physical appearance than just my arms. My hair turns the dirty blonde I used to have, and both eyes become blue. I look like I did before all of this—a normal, human woman.
Entering the restaurant, a soft bell chimes, and a waiter rushes over. “Table for one?”
“Yes, please.” I smile sweetly, though my stomach feels heavy as if I’ve swallowed a brick.