She hit the ground hard, cracking her head on the asphalt.
The Vortex was closed. Only the stale taste of old magic in Eli’s mouth convinced her that what she had witnessed was real. She stood, wincing, and held a hand to the back of her head, where a cut was leaking sticky blood, smelling of iron and fear.
Where was Kite? Had Circinae killed her?
Eli didn’t know. But she was going to get answers.
Thirteen
This time, it was a mint-green minivan with a licence plate that read FXYLDY.
“I thought you were trying to blend in.”
“Minivans are the epitome of blending in. And I didn’t have a lot of notice.”
“How did you know I was still here?” Eli hadn’t even tried to track him down. He had just appeared. Again.
“Tracked you.”
“How? Your tech doesn’t work with magic.”
“It was magic,” he said. “I’m not an idiot.”
Eli sighed and turned down the jazz. “I need your help.”
“I knew it!” He flung one arm around her shoulders. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for someone. I just need a phone and a ride.”
“Name?” He retrieved his arm and pulled out his phone. “I’m a Google master.”
“No.”
“You just said you wanted my help.”
“You want to be an accomplice to murder? I’m not telling you anything. Give me the phone.”
What if this mark was also a human? Why would the Coven want a human dead? For the first time in years, Eli was curious. And curious young women are dangerous — especially when heavily armed.
“You make a good point.” He glanced sideways at her. “You don’t seem that happy about it yourself.”
Eli slumped down in her seat. Rain had begun to fall, and the scratching of the windshield wipers was giving her a headache. Did Circinae know what was going on? Could she get her mother to tell her? Unlikely.
“If I fail, do you turn me over to the Coven?”
He kept his tone neutral. “You failed?”
“No! I mean, not yet. I just wondered. Is it your job to make sure we don’t run?”
Running? That had never been an option.
Finish what you started, daughter.
Cam was shaking his head. “No one would trust a human to go after a ghost assassin.”
“But they gave you magic.”
Cam didn’t say anything. Mournful trombone spilled out of the speakers.
He drummed his hands on the steering wheel. “Do you trust me?”
“No.”
He sighed. “If I show you something, will you promise not to kill anyone?”
Eli held her hands up as if to say, See, unarmed?
“You have knives all over your body.”
“I won’t kill anyone I don’t have to.”
“I’m guessing that’s the closest to a promise I’ll get.”
“Yep.”
“You want answers?” He turned the music back up and then had to shout over it. “You’ve come to the right guy!” FXYLDY took to the streets.
“Where are we going?!”
Cam grinned. “Headquarters! But first, my place. You need a shower — and you’re bleeding all over my minivan.”
Eli had to admit she felt better with clean hair and dry clothes. She had showered with her knives within arm’s reach. She still didn’t trust Cam, although he hadn’t tried to kill her yet, and in her line of work, that was something.
He made her feel like more than a weapon.
“My roommate’s out for the night,” he’d said. “No one’s going to bother us.”
After she got dressed, she wrapped her hair up in a towel and explored the apartment. She’d never had the luxury of just looking at a human’s home; she was always on a mission. It was the attic of a house, with a slanted roof and a window ledge to sit on. Everything was covered in books: the ledge, the small table, the sofa, the floor. Stacks of books everywhere. Then there were the bookcases, which took up most of the space.
“You really like cowboy erotica.”
“You want to borrow? I’d recommend Studs in Spurs, one through seven. Number eight sucked.”
“Maybe next time.”
“You ready?”
No. She wanted more time to understand how Cam lived, to impress in her memory an image of the two-bedroom apartment that meant freedom, to pick up these books and read openly without the fear of being caught. To choose how to spend her days …
If she couldn’t trust in her purpose, then who was she? Was she even allowed to ask?
“To meet your little gang of friends? Sure. But this time I get to drive.”
Cam groaned.
The rain was falling harder now, transforming streetlamps and neon signs into stars and comets. The windshield wipers scraped across the glass. Eli had a million questions, but she had learned when to stay silent. When to wait and to listen.
Eli drove. Cam gave her directions.
“We’re here. Pull over anywhere.”
She stopped. Cam got out of the car. After a moment, Eli followed.
They were standing outside The Sun.
During the day, the sleepy café had been a hipster’s dream, with round windows and exposed brick, natural sunlight, and succulents dotting the windowsills. It was different at night. The brick was shiny and dark, like volcanic glass. The handle of the door and the shutters and rooftop were curved and wicked and sharp, like a toothy animal that might bite. It looked like a witch’s house.
They approached the door. A chime sounded, and a mirror appeared in a rippling motion across the surface. Cam leaned in and breathed on the glass. The fog of his breath hung in the air for a moment, clouding the door. Then it swung open.
“Deadly assassins first.” Cam winked and gestured for Eli to enter. Inside, the café looked the same, cute and cozy, sleepy and somehow intoxicating. Eli felt like she had been drinking. Her head was clouded, and her body felt relaxed. Her glamour unravelled like a long silk scarf and left her not-quite-human body visible to everyone in the room.
Eli shook the enchantment out of her head. She was sharp edges again, but she could feel the magic — subtle, like a single fennel leaf in soup — prodding at her consciousness, trying to lull her, trick her, catch her. Switching to her all-black magic set of eyes, she could see a thread of blue light snaking its way around her elbow. She pinched it between thumb and forefinger and threw it back into one corner. It curled in on itself like a dejected animal.
“Oh, she’s good,” a deep voice declared. Eli glanced up at a woman with a thin line for a mouth and a calculating gaze, then blinked away her dark eyes for the familiar crocodile yellow. There was so much magic in this place that she couldn’t tell who the source was, and the swirling colours and lights were giving her a migraine. She didn’t bother to pick up the scraps of her disguise — the magic in this place was too strong. Besides, it was time these humans knew who — and what — they were dealing with.
“Eli.” She offered a hand, fingernails somewhere between bird talons and the ragged nails of teenagers, complete with chipped and fading blue nail polish. “It’s nice to meet you.”