“You understand once Bishop gets his hands on them, he will never return them?”
“That’s why I doubled my original order.”
“Smart.”
“Well?” He let me into our apartment. “Do I have your permission to send them over?”
“Have them brought here.” I yawned. “Bishop can pick them up when he arrives.”
A frown bisected Midas’s forehead. “He doesn’t trust his drop boxes anymore?”
“Not for big-ticket items like this. I doubt one location would hold them anyway.”
And he would want his new toys in his hot little hands as soon as inhumanly possible.
“All right.” He got out his phone. “I’ll have Ford load them in his truck.”
The urge to peek out the window to do a bit of spying of my own tempted me to locate the remote that operated the blinds, but self-preservation overcame my brain fog.
“New plan,” I announced, thumbs flying over my screen. “I’ll bait Bishop with the drones, then let him figure out the logistics to get them—and Ford—here safely.”
“I like this plan even better.”
“Hello,” a silky voice purred from the shadows. “I wondered when you would arrive.”
Midas flipped on the lights then prowled to my side where he vibrated with predatory annoyance.
“Um.” I rubbed my eyes, but Vasco remained standing in the middle of our living room. “What are you doing here?”
I rested a hand on Midas’s arm, a plea to let Vasco talk before Midas murdered him for trespassing.
Arms spread wide, he turned a slow circle, putting his flawless body on display. “I’m a gift from Bishop.”
Too bad I didn’t see a return label stamped among the feathers of the winged tattoo on his back.
The blackout, okay, I could see the delay in the OPA warning me there, but this?
Bishop owed me a heads-up before inviting dangerous fae into our home without our permission.
“I’m not unwrapping you, if that’s what you’re waiting on.”
“And here I wore laces, just in case.” Twisting to the side, he showcased the leather ties crisscrossing his upper thighs in a design that boggled me as to how he kept his pants on. “What do you think?” He wet his lips at Midas. “I have another pair in red, if you’re interested.”
Jaw tight, Midas managed a polite tone. “I’m mated.”
“So?” He toyed with the loop in one bow near his hip. “Let her watch. Let her participate. Let her learn.”
As the youngest person in the room, with inarguably the tamest sexual history, I was not amused.
“I hate to rain on your parade,” I lied, wishing for an umbrella to beat him with, “but I don’t share.”
Midas slid an arm around my waist. “Neither do I.”
“Give it a few centuries,” Vasco demurred, “then we’ll revisit the topic.”
“Bishop sent you?” I prodded him. “Why would he do that?”
“I have information.”
A sigh moved through Midas. “What do you want for it?”
Glaring at Midas, I stomped his foot while giving Vasco a hard pass. “We’re not interested.”
“The price has been paid.” He lifted a shoulder. “You will hear it, whether you want to or not.”
“What is the deal with you and Bishop?” I bristled at his smug tone. “Why can’t you leave him alone?”
The two kept getting closer, and I didn’t like it. Granted, I didn’t have to like it, but I worried for him.
“I did not summon myself.” He smiled, all teeth. “Bishop called me, as he always does, and I gave him what he wants, as I always do. If you take offense to my presence, you should tell him so, not me. I am but a humble messenger.”
Humble, my left toe. There wasn’t a meek bone in his flawless body.
“Hadley.” Midas tightened his grip. “Let it go.”
The relationship between Bishop and Vasco was none of my business, but the cost of Bishop doing business with him grated on me. Half our problems could be traced back to our bargain with Natisha. I didn’t want that for Bishop, regardless of his past with Vasco.
“Vasco,” Midas exhaled his name. “We’re tired and have no time for games.”
“Perhaps you would be less exhausted if you made time to play.” Vasco heaved a sigh when we refused to encourage his threesome sales pitch a second time. “Fine.” He raked a long-fingered hand through his curtain of black hair. “You’ve encountered a type of glamour that your gift of sight can’t penetrate, yes?”
“Yes,” we agreed together.
“Your sight can pierce witch and fae glamours. Necromancers too. Most illusions, in fact, or it would not be a gift worth giving.” He sniffed at that, as if the glamour’s resistance was an insult to him. “What you have encountered is not a form of glamour but a type of charm that requires the target’s blood to create.”
“I don’t understand,” I confessed. “How is that not a glamour?”
“Illusion is just that—a reflection of the caster’s vision of reality. It’s not an exact replica, and it can be modified on a whim.” He lifted a finger. “A charm of that nature creates a precise mirror image, untarnished by perspective.”
Mulling that over, I got a handle on the basic premise. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder?”
As in, if I could cast, say, a Midas glamour, I might recall him as more handsome than he was in reality. I might forget a mole or a laugh line. His entire appearance would be shaped by how I felt about him, making it an imperfect version.
“Precisely.” He appeared to consider his words. “The blood link gives the charm more weight than a glamour. That’s why you can’t see through it. It’s not real, but it’s forged in blood, and that makes it real enough.”
“Great.” I rubbed my forehead until I gave myself an even worse headache. “What is their obsession with identity theft?”
“All covens specialize, and theirs is no different. They are masters of their chosen craft.” Vasco shrugged a negligent shoulder. “The charms are ideal for the rare targets who have the sight or are immune to glamour.”
The throb between my eyes made focus difficult, but I promised myself ibuprofen if I got through this. “How can we tell the difference?”
“You can’t,” he said simply. “Not without my help.”
“Bishop paid you for information,” I guessed, “but not for your assistance.”
Vasco said nothing to the charges I laid at his feet. He let me work it out for myself.
“That means there’s no easy way to tell the difference,” I decided, “or the ability isn’t worth the cost.”
“Abbott’s test can still identify coven black magic users,” Midas added. “Bishop must be trusting in that.”
We tested everyone and their momma, some multiple times a day, so no charm would protect them.
“Can we trust you?” I hadn’t meant to ask, but the words popped out of my mouth.
“No.” He blinked at me. “I am what I am, and you are what you are, and we are not the same.”