Chapter 4
Ophelia stared at the Witchery from the shadows across the street, trembling in the icy drizzle.
Hold it together just a little bit longer, Phe.
You can do this. Hah, she said that, but making it back to the alley to meet Thaddeus with Liam up her ass had about tapped any reserve of bad bitch she had left.
She took a shaky drag of her cigarette and washed it down with a mouthful from her nipper.
The unctuous coppery tang of semi-coagulated blood coated her tongue, and she grimaced as it buzzed through her veins.
Seeing Gideon and then finding out he was working for the Court had fucked with her hardcore.
Everything in her was screaming to run, and if it wasn’t for her Ghandi-damned oath to the node, she would’ve.
Which left her with no option but to talk to Jena.
Ophelia didn’t like the little witch, but she was hella powerful and the guardian of the node. If there was anyone on the planet that could help her, it was Jena Seymore.
The Witchery lights were still on, but it was getting late.
If Ophelia was going in, she had to do it now before they closed or she totally chickened out.
She took one more drag from her cigarette, then flicked it into the gutter, glancing down the street as she hurried across.
There’s no one out there; rein it in, Phe.
But there would be, and time was running out.
An uncomfortable buzz of magic went over her skin at the shop’s stoop. The hair on her nape rose, remembering how badly asking for help had burned her before. Damn it, she knew it had, but as much as she didn’t want to, she was desperate.
Whether Jena would give it was a different story.
Fuck it. It was this or a stake, and she hadn’t survived the Citadel to end it here.
The bell above the door tinged, and Jena looked up from a book splayed over the back counter as Ophelia entered the shop. After standing in the freezing rain for so long, the heat of the room hurt.
A frown immediately darkened the witch’s face. “Don’t I have to invite you in?” she snapped, cocking her head with her arms crossed over her chest.
Bitch. “Technically, this isn’t a private residence, so no,” Ophelia said, wandering further into the shop and picking up a heavy crystal. Ghandi, there was all kinds of weird, hippie-dippie-om shit in here.
“Don’t touch anything unless you’re buying it. I don’t have the time to scrape your shitty aura off my merchandise,” Jena snapped. “And I thought Felix said he had to invite you into town hall.”
“My bad, and yes, but no. I was just trying to keep up the mystique. It’s a vampire thing.” Ophelia set the crystal back where she’d found it, resisting the urge to trail her fingers over everything else she passed. She wiped her palms on her damp skirt. Shit. Be nice, Phe.
“Great, so you’re a liar, too,” Jena muttered.
“More like conditioned. Any luck finding Chambers?” Ophelia asked, pausing to peruse a bookshelf full of bird skulls and ratty tomes. She couldn’t even begin to pronounce half their titles.
“No,” Jena answered, suspicion all over her face.
“But Sal put the word out to the Below. Right about now they’re supposed to be having a meeting about letting us down there.
I’ll be shocked if that actually happens, but all Matilda can tell us is that Chambers is underground.
She can’t get a good read on him with the lesser faes’ magic clouding everything up. ”
“And Patrick?” Ophelia asked, chewing a nail to keep from touching stuff. See? You can do this.
“He’s on the move, so she can’t get a good read on him, either.” Jena eyed Ophelia, her expression sour. “What about you? How did that court thing go?”
Shitty. “It went, and we have a whopping week and a half to get all our ducks in a row—well, weasels, I guess.” Ophelia shrugged, working her way toward the counter.
Piles of weeds were scattered over the top, and it looked like Jena was braiding them into rough figures.
The shop was cuter than Ophelia had expected, in a moldering, antique-y kind of way.
It was obvious it’d been a sitting room at one point, and the dark woodwork and arsenic green wallpaper looked old enough to be original.
The gas fireplace was newer, but didn’t look out of place.
It was…nice. Homey, even. She could do without all the incense though. Shit was so thick she could taste it.
Jena narrowed her intense green eyes. “What do you want?”
Ophelia bit back a quip about Chase. Ghandi, that was painful. “I-I need your help.”
The curvy little witch just looked at her.
“Ah…I mean, with like a spell or—or something.” Ophelia vaguely gestured over her shoulder at room behind her. Ugh, why was this so frickin’ difficult? Maybe because the last time you asked for help it landed you in the Inchisoare.
Jena’s brow quirked. “Or something.”
“Look, this is hard enough, just—” Ophelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself not to tear up. Just tell her what you want. “I need something to ward off vampires.”
Jena opened her mouth and then closed it again. “Um…you do realize that—”
“Yes,” Ophelia snapped, dashing a hand over her eyes. “I know, I am one, but I mean the rest of them. Fun fact: Fayet’s prosecutor works for the Vampire Court, which means it’s only a matter of time until they know I’m here, if they don’t already, and not for nothing, but Thaddeus is Thaddeus.”
The witch’s brow furrowed. “You’re not going to get any argument out of me that Mr. Brock isn’t exactly reliable, but the node’s claimed you. As long as you’re in Havers—”
“And if I’m not?” Ophelia shot back. “Once this trial starts, I’m screwed, and considering there was a fucking dragon camped out on your doorstep, the node’s idea of what constitutes a threat doesn’t exactly set my mind at ease.”
“Okay, point taken.” Jena drummed her fingers on the counter. “But a vamp-b-gone charm’s not gonna work without affecting you too. Though maybe…” she stared off into the distance for a long moment. “I might be able to do something, but I wanna know why.”
Ophelia’s throat bobbed. “Why?”
“Yeah.” Jena’s eyes were hard. “Why were you in that prison of theirs?”
Fuck. Ophelia blew out her cheeks. “For inciting dissent.”
“I’m gonna need more than that. If helping you fucks up my karma—”
Ghandi damn it. “All right, CliffsNotes. Vampires have a caste system. You don’t get to pick that, how the tatuaj around your eyes develops determines where you end up.
When I volunteered, I figured I’d land in some shit tribe, and they’d spit me back to the outside world to bank my tithe.
Instead, I ended up in seclusion at the Citadel as Kremlyn’s fuckdoll.
I hated it, hate him, and might’ve started a minor rebellion hoping he’d get staked in the process.
He won, I lost, and he’s not done making me sorry for it.
” Her eyes misted up, and she gritted her teeth, looking away. Damn it.
“Oh.” Jena blinked at her. “Okay then.” Her brow furrowed, and Ophelia sniffled, steeling herself for the next barrage of questions. “You seriously volunteered? Don’t they make you eat a bug?”
That’s what she was gonna fixate on? Not that Ophelia was complaining, but— An image of that bitch, Crake flashed across her mind’s eye. “More like it eats you. It’s a centipede and any hole will do,” she muttered. “It went up my nose.”
Jena slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, gross. Is it still there?”
“What? No. They extract it after thirty-six hours along with any eggs it might’ve laid. Otherwise, it keeps eating, and you turn into a revenant.” And wouldn’t that have just solved all of her problems?
Jena looked ill. “Good to know.”
Ophelia shrugged, dragging a finger under her eye. Ghandi, she was pathetic. “It’s not for everybody.”
“Clearly.” The witch eyed Ophelia with a look she couldn’t quite decipher, but it better not be fucking pity. “How long were you there with—at the Citadel?”
“Eleven years, three hundred forty-six days, and nine hours.”
Jena winced, offering her a box of tissues. “I am so sorry. I had no idea. That had to have been awful.” Oh yeah, that was definitely fucking pity. Ghandi damn it.
“Enough to make me desperate enough to take this job pro-bono,” Ophelia snarked, snatching a tissue and dabbing at her eyes like her makeup wasn’t already a mess. “Now, do you have something for me, or do we have to braid each other’s hair first?”
Jena snorted, then chewed her lip. “I’m pretty sure the best I can do is an ill-intent charm, but it’ll be a one-hit wonder. Like, it’ll stop a speeding bullet, but you better hope they don’t fire twice. Unless…” She cocked her head like she was listening to something.
“Unless?” Ophelia prompted.
“Unless I link it to the node, but like you said, that’s got defined boundaries. Once you’re out of Havers, it’ll be back to one and done.”
That was better than anything else she had. “Sold. How much?”
That fucking look crossed Jena’s face again, and she shook her head. “No charge.”
“What? Fuck you.”
The bitch scowled. “Look, I don’t want your money, I want you to stop hitting on my husband and being such a miserable cunt.”
“How’s it feel to want?” Ophelia snorted, then winced at the knee-jerk retort. Damn it. “You know I don’t really give a shit about him, right?” she backpedaled.
Jena rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”
“Trust me, after the Citadel, I’m not big on physical contact.
He just…reminds me of someone.” Or did. After the way Gideon had looked at her that afternoon, the thought of hitting on Chase even to piss Jena off turned Ophelia’s stomach.
Leaving him alone wasn’t going to be a problem.
“Whatever. Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll stop hitting on Chase. ”