Retired meant killed permanently. Every time Edgar made a mistake, which was pretty often, he insisted that I kill him. It would’ve been a running joke if he didn’t actually mean it.
“What was in that soda?” Jimmy asked softly. “I feel like I’m on acid or something.” He rubbed his eyes, watching the wooden tableau move and shift, less like wooden carvings and more like a TV screen.
“Shall we?” Mr. Tom put his fingers on the buttons of his jacket, awaiting my directions. “I want to bring in Master Jimmy’s things and get his room set up.”
“Just call him Jimmy, Mr. Tom. And yes, that’s fine. Edgar…” I motioned for him.
Edgar puffed into a swarm of insects.
“Holy—” Jimmy staggered backward. “What just happened? Seriously, was there something in that soda? Did I take an edible and not know it?”
So my son had tried edibles and hallucinogens—that was something I could’ve gone my whole life happily not knowing.
After a deep breath, I motioned for Mr. Tom to hurry up.
A hidden door popped open down the way, Ivy House wanting to show off her stuff as well.
“No, no. Why is he dropping trou?” Jimmy asked, backed against the door.
“Hold off,” I told Ivy House. “Let’s give him a second to adjust. Show him the hidden tunnels and whatever else after he’s gotten used to the idea. He’ll like it better by then.”
The hidden door down the way clicked shut again. For once, she agreed with me.
The sound of boulders moving and scraping against each other filled the space. Mr. Tom, in his birthday suit, bent slowly, his skin mottling from pasty white to a deep coal as it hardened into a tough hide. His wings rose behind his back, taking shape and stretching out before he pulled them back in, something he could do even while changing forms. Large teeth protruded from his pronounced jaw, and his ears rose to points within his growing black hair.
“What in the…” Jimmy’s breath went out of him. His mouth hung open and his wide eyes took in the slow transformation from man to gargoyle.
For a moment, Mr. Tom crouched on the floor, utterly still, hard stone. Then he straightened to his full height of nearly eight feet, propelled into action by my need for him to show his gargoyle form. Otherwise, if I didn’t have the need, he would stay stone until naturally emerging, the time that took dependent on his age. Given Mr. Tom’s age, that would take a very long time.
“He looks like the gargoyles from the cartoon,” Jimmy whispered. “Am I really seeing this? Am I tripping?”
“It’s magic.” I held out my hand, palm up. A foot from my skin, a collection of sparks popped and fizzed. “Edgar, change back.”
The swarm of insects changed back into the stooped vampire with long fingers and nails and pronounced canines.
“My magic came from the house, but magic exists all through the world—they are proof.” I magically extinguished the sparks and lowered my hand. “I didn’t believe all this either, at first. Someone I know turned into a large rat in front of me.”
“A shapeshifter,” Jimmy murmured.
“That’s right.”
“They usually turn into predators,” he said through a slack jaw. “I’ve never heard of a rat shifter.”
“Who wants to write a story about a shape-shifting rat, you know?” Edgar chuckled. “But vampires do drink blood, so you had that right. See? You were already looking for magic in your reading. Now you’ve found it.”
Jimmy looked at me with dazed eyes, completely gobsmacked, his mind in overdrive and ready to shut down.
The scene of a winery tasting room appeared in the wood on the archway, and I narrowed my eyes at it. Austin had told me about magic at a wine tasting. My mind had been in overdrive too. It had tried to shut down. Austin had been there to help me through it. He’d essentially held my hand, kept me level. He’d guarded my back while I learned about a whole new world.
When Ivy House picked sides, she really rubbed it in.
Six
Magical people crowded in the bar, unusually packed for a Sunday night. Austin pulled out two beers and flipped the caps off before setting them down in front of two women in their mid-twenties with roaming eyes and simpering smiles.
“Ten bucks.” He knocked on the bar and moved on, knowing Paul or Donna would follow along behind him and grab the payment. Austin wasn’t so much a bartender as the owner and peacekeeper. Tending bar helped him keep an eye on things without having to mingle within the crowd.
“Austin Steele.” Down the bar, Niamh raised her empty glass, seated between one of the support beams and a guy in his early thirties with pale eyes.
Niamh still refused to call Austin alpha. If it had been anyone else, he might’ve pushed the issue and asked for the respect he was due, but he knew it was her way of honoring Jess. Of showing her pride in the Ivy House mistress, and maybe making a subtle statement that she thought Jess was the mightier of the two.
The sentiment probably should’ve enraged him, but it warmed him instead.
Austin refilled the ice in Niamh’s cup, placed a bottle of cider in front of her, and then braced his hands against the edge of the bar in front of the mage, meeting that flat, watchful stare.
“If you’re going to park here, you have to buy a drink,” he said, which wasn’t even remotely true. This mage was here on business, waiting for Jess. He could sit at the bar all night if he wanted to. Normally Austin would make sure he wasn’t disturbed while he did it.
But something about the mage’s cool demeanor set him on edge. Austin was typically an excellent judge of character, but he couldn’t get an accurate read on this guy. He was dangerous, that was clear. The tang of his power, recently used, tweaked Austin’s nose. He didn’t show the usual swagger or overblown ego of high-powered mages—of high-powered anyone—but he had the power to back it up.
What really set Austin on edge, though, was the way the mage had been watching his every move, every interaction. He didn’t glance away when Austin caught him, or lower his gaze in response to the look. There was no hostility, but there was also no fear.
This guy either had incredible confidence, or he hadn’t ever dealt with an alpha shifter.
Austin certainly hadn’t dealt with a magical person like this mage. Then again, he wasn’t exactly worldly when it came to powerful mages. Shifters and mages didn’t usually mix.
“Scotch. On the rocks,” the man said.
“That’s on Ivy House.” Niamh poured her cider over the ice cubes.
“Any particular brand?” Austin asked as Donna bustled by behind him.
“Glenfiddich. Please.”
Austin held the man’s stare for a beat, but he didn’t sense a challenge. He wondered if the mage was simply inquisitive, like a child examining a colorful bug that he didn’t realize was poisonous.
Whatever his purpose, the mage was treading a fine line. The staring had a time limit, and it was fast approaching.
Austin felt Jess winding her way closer to the bar. She’d started the trip by herself, but Jasper, who’d been outside the bar, blending in to the stone façade, had peeled away in his gargoyle form and flown to meet her.