I have to go.
I glance to the ceiling in time to see a giant ball of fiery orange hit the artistic dome. The house rattles, and I almost lose my footing. The wards hold, but this is their weakest point. Whoever is attacking the mansion must know that, because another ball of fire lights the room from the outside.
This time the crash is deafening. Static runs over my skin as the wards above snap and the glass shatters. I scream, covering my head from the glass shards raining down.
There’s a distant howling sound, but I ignore it to clutch my necklace. I’ve run out of time. My fingers find the small metal charm and it crumbles when I press down, setting an intention and releasing the magic that resides there.
It’s time to rely on all my skills.
It’s time for me to disappear.
37
KATARINA
THE FALLING EMBERS BLUR, and everything shifts around me at nauseating speed. The lush colors of Kalos’s bedroom morph into the familiar laminate lines of my apartment kitchen. I tremble and hold in my sob as I brush shards of glass from my hair. The air doesn’t smell like smoke here.
I’m safe.
Maggie. I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. Ben. Jensen. My vision blurs. Griffin.
They will be alright. They have to. I can’t be distracted. I won’t be safe here for long. I need to head to the real sanctuary I have in mind once I pick up my supplies. I’ll have to use a ride-sharing service to keep from burning through my last portal charm.
I suck in a breath and center myself, wiping my eyes. They will be alright.
With my eyes clear, I frown. This is my apartment, but it doesn’t feel right.
A sound has me spinning toward my tiny couch. A familiar person sits there, feet resting on the coffee table while he scratches his scalp. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by my appearance.
He uses a remote to turn off the television that sure as hell wasn’t here when I moved out, before standing with a stretch. His gray skin looks paler than I remember it being, and the scent that wafts over to me makes me think he hasn’t washed his clothes in days.
“Nemo?”
“Took your damn time,” he grumbles.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, but I blink at the sink full of dishes, the stack of magazines on the table, and the new flatscreen. “You’ve been living here?”
“I needed a place to lie low for a minute. I would have asked if you answered any of my calls.”
My cheeks heat in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. The distraction from witnessing part of Kalos’s home destroyed is welcome, but him helping himself to my place is not. “So you thought you’d just make yourself at home?”
“It’s not like you were using this place anyway, not with you staying with the dragon.” The skin around his eyes wrinkles as he squints at me.
“How did you know I was staying with Kalos?” I ask, awareness edging out my embarrassment.
He shrugs. “You could have just told me you had an arrangement going with the guy. You didn’t have to screen my calls.”
The emphasis he puts on the word leaves little room for me to wonder what he thinks I’ve been doing with Kalos. I push down the urge to touch my stomach. The hoodie I’m wearing is baggy, the pockets poking out and hopefully disguising my belly. Nemo has never been good at noticing things where I’m concerned.
“You weren’t listening to me. I don’t want to take any more jobs,” I say with a shrug, trying to keep from moving at an angle that would highlight my new silhouette. Nothing good can come from Nemo knowing about the baby.
“Why would you?” His sneer is ugly. “You’re living in the lap of luxury, getting fat, while I’ve struggled. We could have made great plans.”
The fat comment rolls off me like water on a duck. Me gaining weight is just one more thing for him to gripe about because it affects his ability to use me to slide through windows.
The answer to how he knows where I’ve been connects in my brain. He’d “checked over” all my equipment before that job.
“You put a tracker in my phone,” I say, my voice full of disbelief.
His upper lip curls. “It’s a simple thing. You should have checked for the spell. It’s not my fault you’ve gotten rusty.”
Not his fault I’ve gotten rusty. As if I need to always be on my guard and live my life like he does, running from shadows and being threatened by clients. He’d rather I be miserable so we can be miserable together.
Because me being miserable is useful.
“I didn’t check for the spell because I trusted you.” I thought he cared for me at least a little bit. I got into a fight with Kalos over that fact. Granted, if the fight wasn’t about Nemo, it would have been something else, but the truth still stings.
Kalos was right. I had my suspicions, but suspecting that Nemo only acted like he cared enough to use me and having it presented to my face is something else entirely.
Nemo widens his eyes. Like he’s surprised I’d be stupid enough to trust him. I am too.
I shake my head. “We’re finished. You need to leave.”
“You’re just going to forget everything I’ve done for you?” he sputters. “If I leave here, the Leonids are going to pick me up as easily as shooting fish in a barrel.”
“I’ve forgotten nothing!” I shout. “I’ve more than paid back my debts. It’s not my fault or problem that you’re in trouble with the Leonids.”
At the mention of the Leonids, I head for the bedroom. Nemo’s presence sidetracked me. I only came here for my bag before heading to my next destination.
“Katarina!”
I freeze. The tone of his voice shifts from alarm to smugness.
“Why do you think the Leonids attacked the dragon’s place? They need leverage. Do you think I wouldn’t give them the dragon’s girlfriend?”
Fear tightens my throat. I hadn’t known it was the Leonids attacking the mansion, but that detail pales in comparison to the danger of this moment. For all that I’ve known that Nemo works with dangerous people, I’ve never considered him a threat to me.
To my daughter.
The movement is instinctual, and I’ll regret it for as long as I live. My hand comes to my stomach for a split moment—only a moment—before I jerk it away. But it’s too late.
Nemo’s eyes drop and widen. “Oh fuck.”
He slides his hand out of his pocket, and panic is an ugly song in my mind at the sight of his phone already lit up with either a call or text message.
“Please don’t do it,” I say. “If you ever cared for me even for a second. Please don’t do this.” I never thought I was one for begging, but this livewire of terror zinging through my chest gives me no choice.
Nemo’s face softens. “I did care about you, kid.”
Hope is a dangerous thing. It starts my heart pumping again. Maybe this will be okay.