After casting one last glance at him with a flicker of a smile, she strutted down the hall, tugging at the edge of her white T-shirt.
After closing the door, he took a seat on the chaise lounge. He picked up a warm cup of over-brewed tea and plucked out the tea bag. Just a few moments of pure relaxation was all he needed, safe inside his apartment as the storm god raged outside.
A sizzling noise disrupted the quiet of the room, followed by a burning smell.
“Samael’s skin!” He jumped up and peered into the lampshade’s opening.
The moth’s blackened body twitched against the lightbulb, and a thin tendril of smoke curled up into the air.
CHAPTER TWO
Tobias
His jaw set tight, Tobias skulked along Walnut Street’s brick sidewalk. In the roiling skies above, the storm god raged, spearing the charcoal morning sky with light and lashing Beacon Hill’s narrow streets with rain.
Tobias’s dark hair lay plastered to his head. Under his sodden blue T-shirt, rage knotted his chest.
It had been nearly a week since he’d helped defeat the Harvesters in the Battle of Maremount, but a magical aura still charged the atmosphere. The air felt electrified even here in Boston, though philosophers had severed this city from Maremount long ago. In the chaotic aftermath of the battle, it had taken Tobias and Fiona a full day to find the rest of their coven. Tobias had been relieved to find them safe in a sports stadium converted into a temporary shelter. And now, his friends prepared to flee the chaos.
But Tobias had more immediate plans. He knew Jack’s address. He’d spent the past few days hunting a Harvester through the winding streets of the North End. He’d pulled the man into an alley, smashing his head against a cement wall until he’d given up his master’s secrets.
Tobias hugged himself in the frigid rain. The image kept replaying in his mind—the moment when Eden’s neck had snapped, and the world had stopped.
How stupid had he been when he’d first arrived in Boston? If he’d been more focused, maybe Jack wouldn’t have slipped through his fingers. He’d trained with the Ragmen in Maremount, but had failed to hold a single weapon since arriving. Until now.
Turning the corner of a street lined with redbrick townhouses, he clutched an eight-inch chef’s knife in his right hand. It wasn’t as good as a pike, but he would need any advantage he could get against Jack. The last time they’d met in the Tuckomock Forest, a simple flick of Jack’s wrist had sent Tobias soaring to the treetops. He was the most powerful philosopher Tobias had ever encountered.
Still, Tobias had the element of surprise on his side. Once inside the building, he could turn invisible and take as long as he needed to sneak into Jack’s apartment undetected. He had no qualms about killing Jack in his sleep.
He pushed his drenched hair out of his eyes and examined the gold numbering on the side of a brick building to his right. Number 27. He climbed stone steps to a red painted door, scanning the list of names next to buzzers. Apartment number three, Jack’s, was unlabeled. But Tobias pushed a button near the top instead: Mitchell.
A female voice crackled through the intercom. “Hello?”
“Delivery for apartment three. I need you to buzz me in.” Does that sound right? Delivery?
“Oh. Um… okay.”
The buzzer sounded, and he clicked open the door into a white-walled hall. A stairway led upward, but Jack’s apartment would be on the ground floor.
Wooden boards creaked under Tobias’s feet as he stalked up the hallway. As he approached apartment three, he saw that the door was cracked open. He hadn’t expected that.
He gripped the knife tighter, pushing open Jack’s door. He stepped into a large central room, empty of furniture. To the right, a bare kitchen adjoined the room.
His heart hammered against his ribs. No sign of Jack. A blessing in some ways, since he’d forgotten to use the cloaking spell before he barged in. He clenched his jaw, stepping in further to survey the high-ceilinged room. At the other end of the living room was a white door, probably leading to the bedroom.
Perhaps there would be some clue as to Jack’s location, but it wasn’t immediately apparent. Three domed alcoves set into the wall lay empty, and nothing hung on the dusty green walls. The only sign of Jack was the deep maroon droplets of dried blood marring the wooden floor—no doubt the remnants of one of his meals.
Tobias tiptoed to the bedroom door, shooting a quick look behind him before turning the brass doorknob. It creaked as it opened into a smaller room painted a deep red. Apart from an oak wardrobe, this room was also empty. A window overlooked the sidewalk, guarded by iron bars to protect the glass.