Bittersweet Magic (23 page)

She pushed through. For a moment, she stood just inside while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The place appeared deserted, but then someone moved behind the long bar that ran the full length of the far wall.

A young man, polishing glasses, glanced up as she approached. “We’re closed.” His tone was sullen, and Roz didn’t waste her time with a smile. Instead, she kept on coming until she came to a halt by the bar.

“I’m here to see Jonas,” she said.

“He’s not here.”

She reached out with her Seeker power and sensed the warlock’s presence somewhere close. “Yes, he is.”

“How…?” His mouth snapped shut, and he studied her for a moment. “You’re from the Order?”

”Yes.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but if it would get her a meeting with Jonas, she was quite willing to let the young man believe.

“He’s through the back.” The bartender waved toward a door in the wall opposite, but as she turned to look, the door opened and Jonas emerged. He approached with a slight frown on his face.

“Rosamund, how nice to see you here, but also a little…unexpected. You should have called; I would have met you at the Order.”

“I wanted to talk to you in private.”

He quirked one iron-gray brow. “You did? How intriguing. You’d better come through.”

She followed him back through the door and into a comfortable sitting area.

“Can I get you anything, coffee? A drink? You’re a little pale.”

She decided to get straight to the point. “Tara told me you sell spells. I’d like to buy a spell.”

He sat back in his chair and clasped his hands on his lap as he studied her. The silence stretched until she thought she would scream.

“What sort of spell?”

She shrugged. How was she supposed to know what sort of spells there were? “One that goes bang.”

“You want to blow something up?”

“I want to destroy something.” There was no other way. However hard she’d searched for alternatives—she failed to come up with anything that would keep the Key from the bad guys
and
free Ryan and Maria.

“Something ordinary or something magical?” Jonas asked.

That one she could answer. “Magical.”

He studied her for a moment. “Is Piers aware you are here?”

“No, and I’d rather he didn’t know.”

“Will this endanger the Order?”

“No.” Well, she hoped not. If her plan worked, it would help the Order, though she supposed handing the Key over to Piers would help them more. But she’d already decided that wasn’t an option. “I can pay, whatever your price. I have money.”

“But I already have plenty of money.”

Damn. She was hoping he’d be motivated by greed. She didn’t know him well enough to guess at what else might persuade him to help her. “So what can I give you?”

“Blood.”

“Blood? You’re not a vampire, are you?”

He laughed. “No, I’m not a vampire. Many of my spells require power, and there is power in blood, especially fae blood that is given freely.”

“How much blood?” She needed to be able to function for the rest of the day, but so long as the amount wasn’t debilitating, he was welcome to her blood. She didn’t have much use for it herself.

“Little. You will hardly notice.”

That sounded almost too good to be true. “And can you do it? Can you make a spell?”

“I can. What you are asking for is relatively simple. Now you must tell me the details.”

…

Half an hour later, she had the spell in her pocket. She could feel the pulse of the magic. Jonas had bandaged her wrist afterward, but she could still feel the sting of the cut. He’d told the truth—he’d taken only a small bowl of her blood, whispering words of magic as it dripped from her wrist, drop by precious drop.

The phone rang. Jonas picked it up and listened. “Are you aware that Carl is parked outside?” he asked her afterward.

“No, but it doesn’t surprise me. Is there a back way out?”

He rose to his feet. “This way.”

He led her through a door at the back of the room. It opened into a narrow passageway and at the end, there was another door that led to the outside and an alleyway, presumably at the rear of the bar. She turned to him as he held the door.

“Will you tell Piers?”

“He will know you came here, but my work comes with a confidentiality clause. Besides, I only work for the Order; they don’t own me.”

“Good.”

“I’m thinking we won’t meet again. A pity—I would have liked to help you discover your powers.”

Me too.
“I guess some things just aren’t meant to be.”

He studied her, his head cocked to one side. “I’m thinking that perhaps your death at this point is also not meant to be.”

“That would be inconvenient to my plans. I have to do this. I can’t see another way.”

“Well, good luck.”

And she walked away.

…

Ryan’s apartment was a pit. Did he never do any housework? She stood in the center of his living room and reached out with her magic. The Key called to her, and she found it easily in a drawer in his bedroom, hidden beneath his boxer shorts.

For the first time, she examined it closely. Such a small thing to cause so much trouble. It appeared to be an ordinary, old-fashioned key of plain black iron. But if she concentrated, she could sense the pulse of magic. Old, powerful magic.

Jonas had told her that more blood was required to bind the spell to an object. She took the Key into the kitchen, found a sharp knife, and pricked the ball of her thumb. After squeezing a few drops onto the Key, she whispered the words that would start the spell.

Now, she need only speak the final words and the thing would self-destruct, hopefully taking Jack with it.

It was still before noon—she had most of the day to get through. She should do something momentous, but instead, she crawled into Ryan’s unmade bed, cuddled the pillow to her chest, and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

…

Piers awoke as the sun went down. He came instantly awake, a sense of anticipation bubbling inside him.

He still had the Andarta problem to solve, but without the Key, her movements were limited.

He frowned. If Roz didn’t have the Key, who did? Roz was a Seeker, so maybe the Order should employ her. They could get this demon off her back, and she could work for them and find the Key—if she didn’t already have it. He could keep her close by while he worked out just what it was that intrigued him so much.

Oh, the taste of her blood, so sweet, was a big part of it. As was that delectably curvaceous body. He’d been an idiot last night; he should have taken her, bound her to him by whatever means possible. He would put that right; it was first on his to-do-list. Take Roz to bed and show her how great they could be together.

His good mood didn’t last for long.

“What do you mean she hasn’t been seen all day?” Piers didn’t even attempt to hide his temper. He’d been on his way up to the penthouse when Graham had waylaid him with the news that Roz was not in the building.

Graham appeared unfazed by his foul mood. He’d seen it before. “She left this morning. Hasn’t been seen since.”

“Get Carl and meet me in my office now.”

He paced the room while he waited for them to arrive. Where the hell had she gone this time? And why? He was betting she was still pissed off with him and this just a way of getting him back for leaving her last night.

But he didn’t know. The fact was—he knew very little about her. Except he wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted anything or anyone in a long time.

Hell, last night, he’d backed away because it meant more to him than a quick shag. Now he wished he’d dragged her down to his underground lair, fucked her brains out, then chained her to the wall.

He ground his teeth together and smashed his fist into the desk.

“Ouch,” said a voice behind him.

Piers turned to see Carl lounging against the door, arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t even heard the werewolf come in. Graham hovered behind him as if reluctant to join them. “Where the hell is she?” Piers snarled. “You were supposed to go with her if she left the building.”

“Unfortunately, you never told her that. Look, you never said she was a prisoner. She was gone before I knew she was leaving. If you hadn’t wanted her to go out alone, you should have given more specific instructions.”

He was right. That didn’t make Piers feel any better. Maybe she was in danger. Who had she been fighting with last night? Could the demon have found her, taken her? Could he be punishing her even now for failing to get the damn Key?

After last night, he should maybe have considered the possibility that she would run. She hadn’t been particularly pleased with him, but still he thought she would stick around. And he still didn’t believe that she wouldn’t come back. She was just sulking.

“I followed her to The Crooked Hat,” Carl said, “but she gave me the slip. Where she went after that, I have no clue.”

“She went to see Jonas?”

The other man shrugged. “I presume so. He’d left by the time I realized she wasn’t coming out through the front door.”

“Is he in the building yet?”

“Yeah,” Graham replied. “He arrived just before dark. You want to see him?”

“Hell, yes. Get him in here.”

Graham looked relieved to have an excuse to get out of there. “I’ll go find him.”

Maybe Roz had just gone to see the warlock to find out about what she was, but Piers suspected there was more to it than that. What could she have possibly sought from Jonas? Shit, why hadn’t he stayed with her last night?

“There’s something else,” Carl said, interrupting his thoughts.

“And are you going to tell me what that is?”

“You asked me to investigate the woman who was working with the police. The one who helped them find the missing girl.”

“The one at Jack’s house?”

“Well, from the description, I’m pretty certain it was your friend, Rosamund.”

The information should have surprised him more than it did. “She’s a Seeker. She must have helped the police find the girl. She probably even gave them Jack’s description. Why the hell didn’t we put this together sooner?” It made perfect sense now. “Christ, she
does
have the Key.” She’d lied to him. Why did that hurt? Why had he believed her?

She must have found it that night at Jack’s place. But she hadn’t had it with her last night. He was sure of that. So, the question was, where was it and what did she mean to do with it? He was guessing she still planned to hand it over to her demon master and gain her freedom. And could he blame her?

Hell, yes.

She should have brought it to him. He would have kept her safe, found some way to pay off her debt to this demon. And if it was Asmodai—as he suspected—he was going to beat the shit out of him. Or get Tara to do it.

He hated that Roz hadn’t trusted him enough. From what she’d told him, he reckoned she’d gotten too used to taking care of herself. She didn’t know how to ask for help.

Or maybe that whole show last night had been her way of asking. Or her way of saying good-bye. He ran a hand through his long hair, pressing his skull, trying to make sense of it all. To work out what she was doing, where she could have gone.

“I take it you’ve tried her cell?”

“She’s not answering,” Carl said. “I’ve left messages, but so far nothing.”

“We’ll just have to hope that we can find her before she hands it over.”

The door opened, and Jonas slipped into the room, Graham behind him. The old man’s expression was blank. Was he hiding something? And if he was—would he tell? Piers was quite aware that the warlock had his own reasons for working for the Order; it gave him access to things that might otherwise have not been available, but despite that, he believed Jonas wouldn’t work directly against them.

“Roz came to see you this morning. Why?”

“That’s between us.”

Piers flung himself into the chair behind his desk and tried to work out the best way to get Jonas to talk. “Are you aware that she has the Key?”

“She does?” Jonas came farther into the room and sat down on one of the upright chairs. He stroked his chin as he considered the information.

“I think it’s time you decide where your loyalties lie,” Piers said. “We employed you here at your own request, but I won’t have people working for me that I can’t trust.”

“I want a place on the Council.”

Piers studied him. He should have known the warlock was after something; Jonas never did anything without good reason. “Swear a blood oath of loyalty to the Order and the position is yours,” he replied.

“Done.”

“Now what did Rosamund ask of you?”

“To make a spell of destruction.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe she wants to make sure she is free of this demon for good,” Piers mused out loud.

“Well, she’ll certainly be that.”

Piers glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“She’ll be dead. The only way to trigger the spell is up close and personal. And the spell wasn’t for a demon—well, not purposefully, though it might take one out if he were very close by. It was for a magical object.”

“The Key? But why?”

“Maybe, as you say, she wants this demon off her back. But if she has the Key, why not just hand it over to him and complete the period of debt? It was what she always planned to do.”

“Conscience?”

“Maybe.”

Piers thought back to last night. There had been an edge of desperation to her. Had she known even then what she planned to do? He had a feeling there was more to it than getting the demon off her back. She had lived with the threat of the demon for five hundred years. Why would she suddenly decide to kill him now?

What else had happened last night? She’d left here with the nun and come back without her.

He turned to Graham. “The Little Sisters of Mercy. They have a mother house in Devon. Get them on the phone for me.”

Ten minutes later, he slammed the phone down. He’d been put through to the Mother Superior when he’d said what he was phoning about. She’d asked what he knew about the convent and had claimed that Sister Maria had definitely not turned up last night.