Chapter 23
The first light of dawn filters through the enchanted windows of the magical bus, casting a soft glow on the ancient book sprawled across my lap.
I blink away the remnants of sleep, my fingers tracing the embossed runes on the leather cover.
The pages brim with mysteries from last night’s venture into the hidden cave, and my mind buzzes with excitement at the prospect of deciphering them.
This is the first step towards finding the shit the feystag told us to locate.
“Revelin’s got band practice,” Dezi announces, his gaze glued to his phone screen. His fingers dance over the glass, scheduling our day with an efficiency that somehow is both annoying and endearing. “Tier’s tagging along. Says he’ll do some sleuthing about the leak among the crew.”
“Good,” I murmur, flipping through the book, eager for any scrap of knowledge that might enhance my burgeoning magic. “The more we know...”
“Meanwhile,” Khol interjects, stretching his arms above his head, “we thought it’d be a good idea to take you shop-hopping.” A mischievous glint sparks in his eyes. “Time to stock up on some mystical essentials, and maybe catch up on local whispers.”
I can’t help but grin at the thought. “Sounds perfect. I need more pictures of fae trinkets for Feray anyway,” I say, the idea of weaving through town with my camera at the ready, sending a thrill through me. “And experimenting with magic? Count me in.”
I’ve never felt this excited about my magic before, and it’s odd, but good.
“Great,” Dezi chimes in, pocketing his phone. “Then let’s hit the Grail for some grub first.”
Slipping the book into my bag, I join them as we step off the bus. The morning air is crisp, carrying the scent of dew and distant enchantments. We weave through the awakening streets, and I can already feel the pulse of the town’s magic beckoning me to explore its secrets.
But first, breakfast awaits, and with it, the promise of another day steeped in adventure.
The clang of the Holy Grail’s door announces our arrival, and the scent of frying bacon wraps around us like a warm greeting. We gravitate towards what’s now our usual spot, a sturdy wooden table near the hearth, still chuckling about our makeshift kitchen on the bus.
“We could whip up some eggs there,” Dezi remarks with a smirk, “but it wouldn’t come with the free entertainment here.”
“You mean your eggs wouldn’t be served with a side of scathing political commentary?” Revelin quips, sliding into his seat with that effortless grace unique to vampires.
Rev’s not wrong, but I don’t think he’s actually bothered by it.
As if on cue, the tavern owner’s wife bustles over, her apron dusted with flour and her eyes alight with the day’s grievances.
“Morning, lads and lady,” she greets, before launching into a tirade about the council’s latest decree.
Her words are sharp, slicing through the air like knives, and yet there’s no malice in her gaze when it lands on the prince.
“See?” Khol says to us, lowering his voice as she takes a breath between rants. “She despises the game, not the players.” He nods towards her retreating figure, admiration laced with understanding. “Reminds me of my crew. They know who the real villain is—Krystos.”
“Autocratic rulers leave a bloody mess behind,” Dezi muses after we order, leaning back with a sigh. “It’s the smart ones who last—those who treat kin right and keep idiots at arm’s length.”
“Then how did Louie ever survive?” I can’t help but ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
Dezi’s grin is all teeth. “That, witchling, is a tale too wild for breakfast. Let’s just say he narrowly escaped with his fangs intact more than once.”
I’ll just bet—that bloodsucker is insufferable sometimes.
We linger over our meal, savoring the flavors and the spirited atmosphere, until Khol leans forward with purpose. “So, Fiadh, ready to hit the streets? There’s magic to be found and secrets to uncover.”
“Absolutely,” I respond, excitement coursing through me.
The prospect of hunting for magical trinkets and soaking in the town’s undercurrents has my fingers tingling.
I glance at Revelin and Tiernan, who have been quietly discussing their plans to investigate the crew.
As they rise to leave, each plants a kiss on my lips—Revelin’s cool and lingering, Tiernan’s warm and reassuring.
“Behave,” Tiernan murmurs against my mouth, his breath tickling my skin.
“Or don’t,” Revelin adds with a wink, his voice low and teasing. “I enjoy hearing about the trouble you attract like flies wherever you go.”
I stifle a giggle, feeling a rush of girlish delight mixed with the desire to facepalm. “Go,” I urge them, cheeks burning. “And good luck.”
Khol stands, offering his arm with a dramatic flourish. “Shall we?”
“Lead the way, good sir,” I reply snarkily, taking his arm while Dezi trails behind us. I don’t know what it is about these guys that brings out the playful part of me I’ve always kept hidden, but it never fails.
We step out into the bustling town square, the morning light casting long shadows across the cobblestones.
I ignore the curious looks from passersby, too focused on the promise of enchantments ahead.
With my camera in hand, I’m ready to capture the essence of the unseen world, each snapshot a secret shared between the lens and the ethereal.
Together, a witch, a basilisk and a vampire make their way toward the business district, where whispers of magic and mischief mingle in the air, beckoning us deeper into the heart of the town.
Dust bunnies dance in the shafts of light that pierce Al Legory’s Books and Nooks, each one like a tiny sprite leading me deeper into the maze of shelves.
Khol’s arm brushes mine as we navigate through the stacks, his presence both comforting and distracting.
Dezi disappears between aisles filled with ancient tomes and grimoires, only to reappear with an armful of books he insists I need.
Normally, I’d throw a tantrum about people buying me things, but the guys get such a kick out of it that they’re wearing me down.
“Witchling, this one on elemental charms is essential,” Dezi declares, thrusting a leather-bound volume into my hands.
“Guys, I can’t—” I protest, but Khol cuts me off with a gentle squeeze of my shoulder.
“Consider it a gift from your devoted mates,” he says, pretending to pout as he bats his lashes. “You wouldn’t want to hurt our feelings, would you?”
I roll my eyes but clutch the book to my chest, secretly thrilled by their generosity.
At Mary Jane’s Greenleaves, the scent of herbs wraps around us, a verdant embrace.
Rows upon rows of jars line the walls, each containing dried leaves, roots, and flowers that whisper of potent spells.
The selection is insane, and I know my sister would adore seeing all of it.
Pulling my phone out, I snap photos of the rarest plants and herbs, saving them for when we finally see the pixie again.
“Get whatever you fancy, Sassy,” Khol urges, while Dezi nods in agreement, his gaze scanning the labels with keen interest. “Especially if it’s trippy and we can all enjoy it inflagrante.”
“Fine, but I’m learning how to make potions out of all this,” I mutter, selecting jars of lavender and mugwort. “And no way am I letting you idiots see me high. Drunk on Fae liquor was bad enough.”
“Deal,” Dezi agrees, paying for the haul without batting an eyelid. As the shopkeeper loads up the bags, I catch the vampire shoving a few extra things over the counter, his expression smug.
That fucker thinks he’s so damn sneaky, but I have his number.
The Philosopher’s Store is less inviting, its atmosphere heavy with the metallic tang of alchemy.
I linger over a set of crystal vials, enchanted by the swirling colors within.
The shop owner is a snooty looking elder Fae with iron gray hair and a tightly corseted waist, reminding me of a Victorian school marm.
She doesn’t look thrilled to have us here in the slightest, as evidenced by her deep frown.
“Those are for advanced transmutation,” Khol says, reading the label. “Might be a bit much for now.”
“Then I’ll just have to get good enough for them,” I retort, snapping a picture for Feray. “Besides, Revelin can tell me if he thinks I shouldn’t mess with them.”
I think.
Our last stop before the seedy side of town is The Drakery, where the air is thick with the scent of sugar and spice. A dragon with scales shimmering like burnished copper presides over the counter, her claws deftly decorating a tray of eclairs.
“Five of everything in the case,” Dezi orders. “We’ll take three giant cookies separate so we can eat them now, but the rest package up for us to take back to our bus. I think some sweets would help all the fiery temperaments.”
“Really? Everything?” I ask, shocked by the excessive display of excess. “I’m not sure…”
“Absolutely,” Khol chimes in, winking at me. “Our girl deserves to be full and happy, plus she needs the energy.”
I pretend to gag as he smirks, and the dragon just laughs as she gets to work putting it all together. My sister would be flabbergasted to see me standing here while the guys buy out the stores like I’m a pampered princess, especially since I’m barely putting up a fight.
But I have to learn to compromise at some point, and this isn’t the worst thing I could give in to.
As we walk away from the bakery, we savor each bite, the flaky pastries melting on our tongues, as laughter and teasing soften our edges.
At the moment, I feel like a pretty normal girl with not-so-normal boyfriends walking around a small town instead of a witch trying to solve her parents’ murders and stay alive.
I didn’t realize how much I needed this, to be honest.
As the day wears on, we shift gears, slipping into the underbelly of the town. The seedier part has its own pulse, a rhythm thrumming with whispers and wary glances. We ease into Mead to Know Basis, the dwarf-owned speakeasy’s dim lighting casting everyone in shades of suspicion.
“Demons,” a red bearded dwarf mutters into his tankard nearby. “Mark my words, they’re behind the killings.”
“Demons? Like the mage in the fights?” Khol echoes softly to us, raising an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Dezi muses, his eyes scanning the room. “They’re the assassins’ guild of the supe world and they won’t hesitate to do dangerous things to meet their contracts.”
I frown, tilting my head. “But there are so many kinds. Are they all killers or…?”
The vampire shakes his head, tapping his fingers on the table as he keeps an ear on the whispers.
“No. At home, The Night District is full of mostly legit demon-owned businesses, especially those under the umbrella of the Seven Families. But there are dark factions that have been outcast from the main community and their services are for sale to anyone who can afford their prices—like rich Council members.”
Khol shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Or evil shits like my uncle. I guarantee he’s used them when it was something he didn’t want Khal and I to find out about.”
Dezi nods. “Exactly.”
We continue drinking, listening for a while longer before we decide to wander through the pub to the curtained doorway customers are occasionally disappearing behind. I figured it would be a gambling room or maybe even where the patrons could buy drugs.
Nope.
The sign above the bar saying ‘Cunning Runts’ sends me into a fit of giggles so intense I can barely breathe.
I have to bite my hand when I figure out we’ve found the town’s dwarf-owned and operated brothel, especially when the guys look as though they’ve been hit in the face with frying pans.
Several gorgeous, trussed up women greet us, their eyes sharp as they assess the likelihood of us being actual customers.
Khol quickly pulls me aside when I lose it again, his lips finding my neck in a distraction that sets my pulse racing. “Sassypants, behave,” he teases, echoing Tiernan’s earlier words. “You’ll offend our lovely hosts.”
“How am I supposed to do that when you’re doing that?” I gasp as he nibbles along his mating mark, half-laughing, half-moaning. “Be serious, Sir Hiss.”
That gets my basilisk laughing against my skin, and we shake together as the humor strikes us. Dezi shoots us a look that’s half exasperation, half amusement, before returning to his reluctant eavesdropping at the bar. I know we’re not being very mature, but damn, this shit is funny as fuck.
When we finally step back onto the street, my cheeks are flushed from laughter and Khol’s antics, and Dezi rubs his temples, muttering about needing a stiff drink after this absurd day.
“We should head back,” I suggest, still swatting at Khol, who smirks unrepentantly at me.
“As you wish, witchling,” Dezi says, his tone light despite the headache I suspect we’ve given him. “We’re at your command—even the scaly shit over there.”
With secrets gathered and spirits high, we weave back through the streets, our path set towards the safety of the bus and the uncertainty of the night ahead.