4
A SOFT CHIME tinkled through the parlor as the front door opened. At the same time magic prickled lightly across the bare skin of my forearms. Someone had activated the antiglamour spell upon stepping into the shop. The feeling passed, but I picked up my pace as I walked from the back room to the front lobby. I set a worn clipboard on a stack of papers and glanced at the surveillance monitor to see Trixie crossing the lobby. The elf in human disguise smiled at me as she moved around the front counter and stepped into the tattooing room.
To the world, she appeared as a lovely brunette human with soft features that included brown eyes, lush lips, and a heart-shaped face. But I was able to see the real her through the glamour she wore as protection. The sexy elf with acres of blond hair and crisp green eyes still managed to make my dick twitch when I saw her for the first time every day. She had only recently started to tone down some of her outfits now that we were officially dating. Bronx joked that he had told her to cool it or I was going to kill the next man who looked at her, which wasn’t too likely but wasn’t impossible either. I wondered if she had only dressed like that to catch my attention, but shoved the thought aside. My ego wasn’t that big.
Today she wore a somewhat sedate outfit. A black halter top hugged her breasts, revealing the perfect expanse of her back complete with a sparkling butterfly wings tattoo. Her snug jeans rode low on her hips, revealing a narrow strip of her stomach and belly button, which contained her newly acquired belly-button ring. Yet another thing to make my dick twitch. She had exchanged her usual belly-button ring for a red gem that winked in the overhead lighting.
Trixie’s throaty chuckle caused me to jerk my head up while a surprised blush lit my cheeks. She had caught me staring. F*ck, she was lucky that I didn’t have to pull out the mop to clean up the drool. What this woman saw in me I didn’t have a f*cking clue. Brown hair, brown eyes, and barely her height when she was in heels, I wasn’t that much to look at. My body wasn’t bad. All lean muscle, the result of frequent trips to the gym, but you wouldn’t know it under the baggy T-shirts and faded jeans I wore. Maybe it was my charming personality. Not. F*cking. Likely.
“Seen enough?” she teased.
I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms tightly around her so that I could feel every inch of her soft body pressed against mine. Of course, that meant she knew exactly how happy I was to see her, but I didn’t mind. We were still early in our relationship. If we weren’t screwing like rabbits every chance we got, I’d be worried. Her mouth found mine as if drawn to me, her lips already parted. She tasted of strawberries and something sweet and intoxicating that was uniquely her. Her hand drifted down my back, bunching in my T-shirt so that it pulled up my back as she held me close. A soft moan slipped from her throat and I was ready to go. The parlor was empty. The counters could be resterilized.
Someone called my name in an angry and plaintive voice. I jerked my head away from Trixie, breaking the kiss but not releasing her. I heard it again and groaned as my dick throbbed in frustration. We weren’t alone. This time, Trixie blushed as I stepped backward and looked down at the forgotten cat carrier in her hand. She had brought Sofie in to work with her.
“Sorry, Sof,” I muttered, walking to the opposite side of the room in hopes that the distance would get my hard-on to pass. Her only response was a soft growl while Trixie set the carrier on the floor and unzipped the opening. Trixie brought the cat into the shop a few times a week so she had a little variety in her day. Trixie’s apartment was smaller than Sofie’s previous home with an elderly woman named Mae. It also didn’t include a balcony, limiting Sofie’s time outside. I didn’t mind since she spent most of her time lounging on the glass counter or sitting in the front window, watching the people walk by.
“I still can’t believe you let her put you in that thing,” I said as the large Russian Blue jumped from the floor to the tattooing chair at Trixie’s station. The cat gave a little shudder and rubbed against the arm of the chair a couple times as if to put mussed fur back into place.
“It’s not bad so long as you don’t distract her when she walks in,” Sofie grumbled, sitting in the middle of the chair.
“Sorry about that.” I flashed Trixie a smile that wasn’t at all apologetic. She shook her head as she turned and shoved the cat carrier in an empty cabinet.
I walked over and scratched the cat’s head in greeting, trying to once again suppress the thought that Sofie was a witch and not some weird talking cat. You didn’t rub the head of a witch. Sofie never complained and I had heard her purr a few times, but I didn’t want to think too hard about any of it.
“I’m worried that you’re not getting enough exercise; getting a little soft around the middle from letting Trixie put you in that carrier.”
Sofie growled and took a swipe at me with a lethal set of claws. I jerked my hand back, but she caught my middle finger, tearing a thin red line along the side.
“Hey!” I yelped. “I know a couple good vets who can take care of those claws.”
“And I know a couple good ways to make you a soprano,” Sofie threatened. I stepped back over to the counter I had been standing at earlier, sticking my wounded finger in my mouth.
“Gage!” Trixie sank gracefully onto her stool. Sofie jumped into her lap and curled up while Trixie proceeded to stroke the witch/cat. “You know better than to tease a woman about her weight. Sofie is the perfect weight.” Trixie lowered her head and rubbed her forehead against the top of the cat’s head while cooing at her. Under those noises, I could hear Sofie purring.
“She knows I was teasing!”
Trixie looked up and frowned at me. “That’s no excuse.”
My eyes fell shut as I swallowed a sigh. Sofie was a witch. She had been born human, and despite the fact that she walked around as a cat, she was still a witch. It seemed wrong to treat her as a cat, but Sofie didn’t balk at any of Trixie’s attention, which was more than a little disturbing. Maybe Sofie had spent too much time in the form of a cat and it was starting to affect her sense of self.
“You didn’t stop by last night,” Trixie said softly.
I opened my eyes again, watching as she lifted her head from Sofie. Her expression was filled with questions, but she didn’t say anything else, leaving it up to me as to whether I would tell her anything of my adventures with Bronx and Reave’s little organization.
The sigh I thought I had swallowed rose back up and escaped me. I would have to say something since I wasn’t completely sure that Bronx would be in to work that night. He would need time to heal and it was very likely that he would still be feeling like shit when the sun set.
“Things didn’t go too well. I wasn’t in the greatest of moods when we were done and I didn’t want to drag that over to your place last night,” I said with a frown. “Also, Bronx might not be in tonight. I’m going to call him in an hour or two to check on him.”
“Not in? How bad did things go last night?”
Leaning against the counter, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the floor. While the lobby had a nice old hardwood floor, the main tattooing room was covered in this crappy yellow linoleum that was cracked, chipped, and lightly stained with splatters from dropped ink containers. “I was sent to protect a fix-production house.” Trixie gasped and I clenched my teeth and chanced a peek up at her. Pixies weren’t directly related to elves, but it was my understanding that they were at least seen as some kind of distant cousin—a lot closer than humans were believed to be. “I relieved them of their supply in the process of protecting the house.”
“Thank goodness,” she breathed, her shoulders slumping in her relief. But they stiffened again as her mind traveled along the next natural conclusion. “Is that how Bronx was injured?”
“Sort of. We got out of the house fine, but Reave decided that I needed to be punished to make sure that I didn’t try anything like that again.”
Trixie’s brows furrowed, meeting over her petite nose as she looked at me. “So Bronx was hurt?”
“Reave knows that the best way to handle me is to threaten the people I care about. I’ll take whatever beating that he can dish out, but I break when he threatens my friends. I guess we all have to have a weakness, right?”
Trixie opened her mouth to say something, but never got the chance. Sofie jumped out of her arms and back onto the tattooing chair between Trixie and me. “Absolutely not!” she snapped. Her tail flicked back and forth as she paced along the chair. If she had been human, I think she would have smacked me.
“You are a warlock, Gage! You do not have weaknesses. You do not allow ordinary, weak-minded thugs to control your actions through threats. You take care of them and continue on your way.”
I gave a little snort. “This coming from a witch trapped as a cat for the past several years.”
Sofie primly sat in the middle of the chair, facing me. “My condition has no bearing here. You are a warlock!” Her chest puffed up as she added that last bit, as if it was supposed to instill some kind of latent pride.
I shrugged. “I’m not a warlock. I never finished.”
“You became a warlock the minute you were taken to the Towers. Doesn’t matter if you finished.”
“No. I’m not a warlock. I don’t kill.”
I didn’t know it was possible, but Sofie managed to arch one little cat brow at me in mocking question. F*ck. Simon was haunting me.
“That was self-defense,” I said slowly through clenched teeth.
“You’re saying that you didn’t go there intending to kill him?” Sofie pressed. While it didn’t show now, I could easily imagine the smug expression on her human face.
I looked away, glaring at the wall. I could argue that I didn’t go across town looking for Simon because I had been looking for answers from my old tattooing mentor Atticus Sparks. But deep down, I had always known that it would all lead back to Simon and that matter came down to killing him before he killed me.
“Does Reave know about me?” Trixie asked, breaking into my train of thought.
I jerked my gaze over to her and stiffly nodded. I wasn’t going to lie to her in an effort to leave her feeling safe when she wasn’t. It would be better if she at least knew to look over her shoulder on occasion, not that I wanted to add to her worries. She was already looking over her shoulder in expectation of seeing another elf hunting her. We might have earned a reprieve from her people, but neither one of us trusted it.
“I won’t let him touch you,” I said.
“Why? Because you’ll kill him?” Trixie’s words were soft and gentle, possessing a wealth of sadness for me and this life I was trying to live.
I pushed away from the counter and walked over to the doorway so that I could look across the lobby and out the front picture window to the street beyond. Shoving my hands into my short hair, I leaned my elbows against the doorjamb and stared at nothing.
“No, he won’t touch you because I’ll do as he asks until I think of some way to take care of this problem.”
Trixie slid her arms around my waist and laid her head against my spine. I flinched. I hadn’t even heard her move from her seat she was so quiet. “And sell out your morals and beliefs in the process. Things like that damage the soul.”
“Who says that I’ve got any soul left to damage?” I teased, but dark truth underlay that comment. I was already missing a piece of my soul. Simon had stolen it and I failed to get it back before killing him. After all the decisions I had made, I was beginning to wonder if I wasn’t missing more than that one piece.
“Your soul is beautiful, Gage, if a little tarnished.” I didn’t say anything. I wanted her to believe this if only so that she would keep her arms around me for a little longer. “This Reave deserves to die for what he’s done to the pixies and everyone else he’s hurt. I won’t mourn him if you decide to get rid of him. Just don’t kill him with magic. You’ve already lost one year.”
I closed my eyes against that horrible reminder. That little fact woke me up from a deep sleep on more than one occasion, scaring the shit out of Trixie during the few times I had slept over at her place.
Magic had some strange rules. There had to be a little give for everything you got—particularly for the big things like killing someone. For the most part, you simply moved energy that already existed in the air, directing it to do your bidding. But killing someone with magic was another matter. You were ending a life, removing a big source of that energy from the earth, and that unbalanced things. The price was that you lost one year of your own life for each person you killed with magic. And it wasn’t one of those crappy years off the end. No, you could be twenty-five, healthy and happy in the prime of life, and fall dead while walking down the middle of the street with no warning. You’d be dead for exactly 365 days and then wake up as if nothing had happened; assuming that those around you were nice enough to preserve the body so that it could start up again.
I had killed Simon with magic. He was dead and I owed magic one year of my life. I didn’t know when it was going to happen, but I was terrified that it would happen before I could help Trixie solve her problem with the Summer Court. I was terrified it would happen before I could get Bronx free of Reave. I was terrified that it would happen and the Towers would discover my body helpless and unprotected. I was terrified of Lilith, who was waiting for me with a chunk of my soul on the other side.
Forcing my eyes open, I drew in a slow, steadying breath before dropping my hands down to cover Trixie’s where they rested on my waist. “It’ll be fine. I’ll find a way to deal with Reave before he even thinks about bothering you.”
“It’s not me that I’m worried about,” she said against my back.
Turning, I smiled at her. “I’ll deal with Reave before he even thinks about bothering Bronx again.”
Trixie made a sound of disgust as she shoved away from me and returned to her workstation. It wasn’t what she meant and we both knew it, but at least my comment succeeded in removing the concern from her eyes.
“Do you have any appointments?” I asked, redirecting her thoughts.
She glanced up at the clock on the wall and shook her head. “Not for another hour and I’ve already done the prep work.”
“You mind keeping an eye on things for a little while? I’ve got a couple things I want to check on downstairs.”
Trixie gave a little wave of her hand as she sat back on her stool, leaning against the counter behind her. “Go for it.”
“Thanks.” I flashed her a quick smile before I turned to look down at Sofie. “You care to join me in the dungeon?”
“Fine with me,” the cat replied, jumping off the chair to follow me. “I’ve been waiting to see your stash of goodies for a while now.”
I gave a soft chuckle as she trailed me down the narrow hallway to the back room. I closed the door behind her, but didn’t lock it. Trixie wouldn’t enter unless it was an emergency. She knew of the dangers associated with my private storeroom.
“Hang back until I call you,” I said as I knelt and pulled up the trapdoor in the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sofie give a little nod as she sat a few feet away, her tail softly swishing across the floor.
The basement was one of the reasons I had chosen this building when I decided to open up my own shop. After living several years with Sparks, I had been eager to get out on my own and a part of it had been because I thought I could set up a secret place to practice a little magic. I had been stupid. It was only recently that I discovered that Gideon had always known about my secret spot, though I was hopeful that he didn’t know about everything it contained.
I paused while descending the stairs as a thought struck me. If Gideon was no longer the guardian who kept an eye on me, I would need to close this spot down or whoever was assigned as my parole officer would drag me in before the council in a heartbeat. I’d have to get rid of everything, or get Gideon to help me hide it better.
The warped wooden stairs creaked under my feet as I continued to the dirt floor. I walked to the center of the pitch-black room and blindly reached up, feeling for the beaded metal cord that hung from the only light. I had been in the basement a thousand times, knew it blind, but my stomach still churned the first few seconds after entering. I had already checked it once when I first arrived at the shop, but it was only after I turned on the light and saw that nothing had been touched that I started to relax.
Lifting my right hand, holding the open palm toward a symbol spray-painted on the far blank wall, I murmured a few words and directed a little energy toward it, disarming the protective spell.
“It’s clear,” I called, leaning toward the stairs and the opening in the ceiling.
A second later, Sofie poked her head in the opening, peering down before delicately descending the stairs on silent paws. She stopped halfway, the hair on her back standing on end. The cat gave a little shake, settling her fur back while narrowing her eyes on me. “Goodness,” she said, sounding a bit breathless. “You’ve got some powerful magic down here.”
I smiled a bit stiffly at her. This was the first time I had allowed another witch or warlock to come into my secret dungeon. I felt the heaviness of the energy too, but I had grown accustomed to it after so many trips. I even felt it when I was on the main floor, but only slightly. I wondered if Sofie did as well.
“I’ve got some dangerous items down here.”
Sofie started to come down the rest of the stairs, but abruptly stopped when her eyes fell on the black symbol that covered the only blank stone wall in the room. Every muscle in her body had gone stiff and I could almost hear her heart pounding in her chest. “That’s a very strong protection spell.” Her voice was tight and barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid that the slight sound would awaken the dormant spell.
“Like I said, I’ve got some dangerous items down here.” Sofie continued to stare at the wall, unable to move. “Sof, I wouldn’t invite you if I couldn’t properly shut down the spell. You’re safe.”
“But it’s not shut down. I can see it . . . moving . . . underneath the paint.”
I squinted at the symbol, but didn’t see anything. It might have had something to do with the fact that she was looking at it through the eyes of a cat, but she was right. It wasn’t completely shut down. I could feel the energy humming around it. “I mean, shut down against you, me, and Trixie. You’re safe.” To prove my point, I walked over to the stairs and gently picked her up. She growled at me, but didn’t move, her eyes locked on the symbol.
Sofie was right. It was a dangerous spell and not very discerning. If the spell lashed out at her, it was going to get me as well. When someone entered the room who wasn’t supposed to, it attacked violently and the results were always lethal. If anyone entered while I was away, I wouldn’t find a dead body at the bottom of the stairs. I would find mangled body parts and a lot of blood.
I had installed the protection spell when I was younger and didn’t know as many spells as I should have. It was the most dangerous and strongest spell I knew. I had picked up a few others over the intervening years, but I had never bothered to change it simply because this one, while frightening, was still the best.
With a half smile, I picked Sofie up and cradled her against my chest while rubbing my knuckles gently against her cheek. Slowly, the muscles in her body started to loosen and her breathing evened out.
“Better?” I asked.
Sofie took a deep breath, rolling one shoulder and then the other. “You’re insane, you know that?”
“Have to be to try to escape the Towers and expect to live,” I said. “Do you want me to put you on the floor or on the table?”
The cat tore her eyes from the wall to look around the room, taking in the three walls of cabinets and the makeshift, chest-high table against the far wall. “Table.”
Keeping her close, I carried her to the table and set her on the flat surface amid the random flotsam I had collected over the years. There were bits of twigs, half-burned candles of every imaginable color, a row of old baby-food jars holding pieces of chalk arrayed in a line of colors, feathers, and a few dead animal parts—magic, as with potions, wasn’t always the prettiest of things to watch. Crystals of different shape, size, and color hung from leather thongs along the back wall.
There was also an old, wooden box at the back edge of the workbench. I could hear it humming as if resonating in time with some silent song that rose from my soul. The locked box held my wand. I had told the council that it had broken in my battle with Simon. I had even shown them the remains of a wand I had used a couple times and then snapped. I knew that if they allowed me to leave the Ivory Towers, I couldn’t let them take my wand. Regardless of what sanctions they put on me, I knew I would need my wand in order to survive a witch or warlock attack. I rarely took it out, rarely used it. The risk was too big.
Now I prayed that Sofie didn’t notice the box, couldn’t hear the humming. Sofie and I were friends, but I knew better than to try to push the friendship too far.
“Nice collection,” the cat said as she picked her way across the table. She leaned down, sniffing here and there, but always careful not to touch anything. “Albeit a little messy.”
“I don’t exactly have a housekeeper doing rounds down here,” I muttered. Rolling my shoulders, I forced my jaw to unclench and relax. I told myself that I didn’t have anything in common with other warlocks, but it was a lie. I didn’t know of another witch or warlock who was comfortable with someone else touching their collection. It was like letting a stranger rummage through your underwear drawer while reading your diary. “I don’t get to spend much time down here.”
Sofie paused and glanced over her shoulder at me. “That is probably for the best.” She continued on, stopping at the end of the table, where I had a large stack of black hardback journals. “What’s this?”
“Notes. For the most part, it’s potions that I’ve come up with for one thing or another.”
Sofie jumped up and sat on the top journal while staring at me with wide eyes. “And the parts that don’t fit in your ‘most’?”
Leaning against the table, I crossed one leg over the other and smiled at her. “Take a wild guess.”
“Gage,” she said sternly.
“Oh, come on, Sofie!” I angrily waved one hand at her and the journals. “Did you expect me to quit? I can’t. I can’t quit magic any more than I can quit breathing. At first, it started out with me making notes, listing all the curses, wards, enchantments, and charms that I learned while I was with Simon. It wasn’t about learning anything new. I didn’t want to forget anything that I had learned.”
“But . . .” she prompted when my voice died off.
I shrugged, my eyes dropping to the sundry bits on the top of the table. I picked up the severed leg of a raven. The claws were turned inward, still looking as sharp as the day I found it in a potion ingredients shop. “I started remembering things that Simon did, but didn’t necessarily teach me. With a little time and thought, I pieced the spell together. Others, I thought of on my own, so I made note of them. Sometimes, magic comes easy to me. A lot easier than tattooing ever has.”
“Why did you leave?” Sofie shook her head at me. There was a sad note to her question. She lay down on the top book, tucking her paws in at her chest. “Learning magic would have made you so happy. You’ve got such raw, natural talent. You could have been great.”
“And I can’t be great now, as a tattoo artist? I could only achieve greatness as a warlock?” I teased, but Sofie wasn’t amused as her ears flattened a little against her head.
“I don’t know what a tattoo artist can achieve, but I know what you could have done as a warlock.”
“I loved learning magic,” I admitted. “When I held my wand for the first time, it was like all the buzzing around in my soul and along my skin settled and found a direction, or like music notes lining up into a symphony. But I couldn’t be a warlock if it meant being like Simon or any of the others that I knew, and I had to do that if I was going to survive in the Towers.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. If you want to be a warlock, you have to be willing to kill. You have to kill other warlocks and witches to get ahead. You have to kill other creatures to use their organs in potions and spells. You have to kill innocent people or risk them not fearing you. The Towers survive on two things: power and fear. To achieve both of those, you have to be willing to kill.”
Sofie remained silent when I finished talking. She was staring at the far wall, looking at one of the cabinets with the glass-and-wood front. There were locks on each of them. If someone managed to get past the protective spell, I didn’t think the locks would stop them. They let me sleep better at night.
“How did you do it?” I asked softly. “You were there for years, but you were the only one I ever saw who didn’t beat the shit out of an apprentice if they failed to cower before you. You seemed nice.”
The cat sighed heavily, closing her eyes. “At first, I was no different than you described. I killed, constantly and indiscriminately. I think that might be how I stayed a little sane while there. Young and old. Helpless and powerful. I killed them all without blinking an eye, and nearly all were for no reason. I told myself that God didn’t need a reason to kill any of them, so why should I? But when I reached my second century, I started to mellow. I killed less, though when I did, there didn’t need to be a reason. I no longer had anything to prove to anyone. That may be why I seemed nicer than the others when we met.”
I tried to smile at Sofie, but the corners of my mouth weren’t working properly. I didn’t know if she was any saner than the ones who lived in the Towers. She had found a way to deal with the violence that that life required, but her way wasn’t the answer. Gideon was closer to the middle ground, but I felt his underground movement was progressing far too slowly. The Ivory Towers had to stop. Stop being overlords for the world. Stop demanding abject fear and total obedience.
Magic wasn’t about being powerful and controlling the world. Magic was about tapping into something beautiful and about becoming more than a fleshy meat bag if only for a couple seconds.
“Would you go back if you had the chance?” I asked.
Sofie cocked her head to the side as she looked up at me. “What do you mean?”
“If you were human again, would you go back to living in the Towers? You weren’t exactly escorted to the door. You could go back now if you wanted and no one would stop you. If you were human again, rather than a cat, would you go back?”
The cat stood and arched her back, stretching while extending her claws briefly to scratch along the rough surface of the book. “It’s going to be a long time before I see skin again, if ever.”
“But if you could?”
“I don’t know.” Sofie sat on the book and looked at me. “It’s been several years since I was last there. I’ve lived with a human that I depended on for several years. I’ve lived with you and Trixie for a while now. I honestly don’t know if I could return to that life. I’ve changed and I feel like I’m too old now to change back to the way I was when I was living in the Towers.”
“I’m glad,” I said with a smile. It was a good answer. It was one Gideon could accept. If he could get Sofie changed back to a human, he would have someone safe who could train his daughter if she proved to have magical talent.
Sofie made a noise. She was either scoffing at me or coughing up a hairball. I prayed it was scoffing. “You make me sound soft.”
“No, just a good person.”
Sofie wouldn’t look at me. She jumped down from the table to the dirt floor. The air directly above her seemed to grow a little hazy. I stood and looked over at the symbol, but the protection spell was quiet. As I looked back at the cat as she crossed the room to peer in one of the cabinets, the misty haze above her solidified slightly so that it looked like I was seeing a ghost. But it wasn’t a ghost. It was a misty image of Sofie as she looked when she was human. She was right. There was a lot of powerful magic down here.
“Who cursed you, Sofie?” The cat or the ghost didn’t look over at me, but I could see her stiffen. It was the first time I had ever asked her that question. Sofie didn’t talk about the attack and I respected her privacy, but I had someone who might be able to help her.
“It’s none of your business, Gage,” she said in a low voice.
“I know, but tell me anyway.”
“Why the sudden interest?”
“Because I know of someone who may be willing to help you.”
Sofie jerked around and quickly padded closer to stand in the middle of the room. The freaky thing was that I could see hope scrawled across the face of the ghost as she peered at me. “Who?”
“Gideon.”
“You’ve spoken to Gideon?” The ghost’s mouth hung partially open and it was only then I realized how much I had gotten accustomed to trying to discern Sofie’s moods by her tone of voice and the expressions presented on a cat’s face. I was beginning to think that I was wrong . . . a lot.
“Yeah, we’re not exactly mortal enemies, though I can’t say that I would trust him with my darkest secrets. He’s indicated to me that he could help you if he knew who cursed you.”
Sofie moved away from me. She sat and then stood as if she meant to pace around the room, but she didn’t move. “Her name is Victoria, though I liked to call her Vicki to piss her off.”
“It worked.” I snickered.
“That wasn’t why she cursed me.”
“I hope not. I don’t want to think about this lunatic running around using magic. Last name?”
“Tremaine.”
“I don’t remember her.”
“She didn’t spend much time in the Tower you were living in. You wouldn’t have met her.”
“Would it help Gideon if he knew why she cursed you?”
The ghostly Sofie frowned at me. “If he needs to know, then he can talk to me.”
I threw up my hands and smiled at her. “That’s fine with me. I don’t need to know.”
“Why is Gideon doing this? Particularly now after all these years.”
“That’s something you’ll have to discuss with him, but I will give you the same warning that he recently gave me.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and leaned back against the table. “Things are getting bad in the Towers. Lot of unrest and anxiety, from what he tells me. I’d keep your head down as much as possible.”
“What does that mean for you?”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “Nothing good. As it stands, I’ll most likely lose Gideon as my assigned guardian soon unless he hands the council my head on a pike. From there . . . well, I’m sure you can imagine the shit storm that’s going to follow.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged helplessly. There wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Thanks. I would appreciate it if you could keep this info to yourself. I don’t want Trixie worrying yet. You know how slow the council can be at times. It may be months before anything happens.”
“Or days.”
“Even so, she has her own problems, things that we can do something about. For now, we have to sit with our thumbs up our asses until something is decided in the Towers.”
“Agreed.”
I pushed away from the table, stretching my arms above my head. “Thanks, Sof. We better get back upstairs before Trixie comes looking for us.”
Sofie started to walk beside me then paused. “I thought you had some things you needed to do down here.”
I stopped with one foot on the bottom step and smiled down at her. “I did. Gideon wanted me to talk to you and I didn’t think you’d want to discuss this in front of Trixie.”
Sofie purred as she headed up the stairs. “You always were a smart boy.”
I snorted at her, but kept my mouth shut as I followed her. For such a smart boy, I seemed to be in a hell of a lot a trouble with few ideas on how to get out. As soon as the cat reached the main floor, I waved my right hand at the symbol on the wall and, with a little push of energy, reactivated the protection spell. One thing at a time. First, Trixie and the elves. Then, free Bronx from Reave. And if there was anything left of me after that, I’d find a way to wipe my memory from the Towers.
Yep. I was in big trouble.