Bittersweet Magic (The Order #2)

“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.