My boots crunched over the frosted grass of the field that Andre, Ophelia, and I walked along. Amsterdam was no more than a glitzy dream. Supposedly we weren’t too far outside the city, but you’d never know it from our surroundings.
“There was a long ago battle here,” Ophelia said, breaking the silence, “during the time when the Romans were pushing northwards. The dead were never claimed,” she explained. “Their bones still lie beneath us, unburied and restless.” Hence why we were here. The restless dead made fitting entrances to the ley lines. Yippee.
We’d been walking single file through the field, but now Ophelia dropped back. Moonlight glinted off of her skin, and I wondered not for the first time why she glittered all the time. Oliver only ever did when he was drunk.
“Never seen a fairy before?” she asked.
I startled from my thoughts. “Actually, one of my best friends is a fairy.”
“Oh really?” she raised her eyebrows, her eyes flicking over me. “We do make for powerful friends—or foes.”
I couldn’t tell if her words were praising my taste in friends or a warning not to put faith in that friendship. She herself had cautioned Andre that her help came with a hefty price.
Mist drifted up from the earth. It was easy to mistake this place for a haunted graveyard. Considering that I still smelled like the last one I visited, I was right at home.
“So,” Ophelia said, breaking the silence once more, “what’s it like being the anti-Christ?”
I knew this was coming. I’d seen and smelled her burning curiosity.
I shrugged. “It sucks.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, wincing as the skintight leather resisted the intrusion.
Her gaze searched me. “You don’t seem particularly—”
“Demonic?” I finished for her. I’d seen enough Hollywood movies on the subject to know the role I was supposed to fill.
“I was going to say ‘scary’.”
Behind me Andre guffawed. “She obviously hasn’t seen your bad side.” He spoke low enough that only I could hear him.
I threw an unamused glanced at my soulmate. Andre walked behind us, keeping watch on our surroundings. When he saw me looking, he flashed me a unapologetic smile. His eyes gleamed with that internal fire of his, the one that made me feel both exposed and protected in his presence.
“So are you really his soulmate?” Ophelia asked, dragging my attention back her.
“Who?”
“Andre,” she said, dropping her voice.
My lips twitched. Even whispering, Andre could hear our conversation with perfect clarity.
“He is.”
“You’re lucky, then,” Ophelia said. “I wouldn’t know a better man to safeguard my life.”
I stared down at my feet as I walked. “I know.”
But it may not be enough, that cold voice inside me whispered. We were fighting the devil and an ancient prophecy.
“So have you met him?” she asked.
I glanced sharply at her. We were no longer talking about Andre.
“Yes.”
Her face was alight with far too much interest. “What’s he like?”
“That’s enough, Ophelia,” Andre said, his voice harsh.
She raised her hands in innocence.
“No, no, she wants to know.” I grabbed Ophelia’s wrist as she dropped her arms and stopped her. “I’ll tell you what he’s like.”
It was my turn to have my expression burn with its own intensity. “He’s a cauterized wound—a remedy that hurts worse than the injury itself and leaves behind a nasty scar. He’s evil with just enough humanity to make you fall for his tricks over and over.” I squeezed her wrist until she yelped.
I released my hold, and turned away from both her and Andre. My final words were for neither of them. “But, worst of all, his very presence carves out bits and pieces of your soul until all of it—every last inch—is his.”
We stood in front of an archaic church, it’s roof covered in a sheet of snow.
“This is it,” Ophelia said, careful to keep Andre between the two of us. Someone was still spooked from our earlier encounter. I wonder if she’d changed her mind about finding me scary.
“The sorceress lives here?” Was I the only one that found it ironic that a powerful practitioner of magic lived in a Christian temple?
“I cannot enter sanctified ground,” Andre said, scrutinizing the building ahead of us.
“That won’t be an issue,” Ophelia said. “It’s been repurposed for quite some time now.”
I could tell Andre remained unconvinced.
“What happens if you step into a church?” I asked him.
“I burn.”
Ouch.
“But not graveyards?” I asked. Weren’t those also sanctified? If Hocus Pocus lied to me about that, I might just die.
Andre lifted a shoulder. “Loophole.”
I rubbed my temples. “That makes no sense.” Andre had saint’s relics in his house and mosaics of holy men in his bathroom. He walked through cemeteries unscathed. Where was the line drawn?
“No one ever said that magic was supposed to be logical—or fair.” Because Andre had tried so hard to save his soul and those of the vampires he’d sired.
“Speaking of magic,” I said, “what exactly is a seer’s shroud?” It was about time someone told me something.
“She doesn’t know?” Ophelia looked between me and Andre.
“No, I don’t.” Also, I’m right here.
“Essentially,” she said, “it’s a spell or a spelled item that prevents anyone with the Sight from divining your locations. They won’t be able to find you.”
Now I understood. That would make our movements all but invisible to those with magic.
“So, why are they so difficult to come by?”
“That would be because they are against the law,” she said.
Then there was that.
“Not to mention that they’re expensive and rare,” Ophelia added. “Powerful magic must go into them to be able to block that many seers.”
“Ah.”