A Den of Tricks (A Shade of Vampire #54)

“You’re rubbing off on me, that’s all.” Heron gave me a warm smile, lighting me up on the inside. I couldn’t help but return it, feeling my lips stretch and my heart sing. Even our banter was taking on a sweet tone, and… I loved it.

“Are you two married?” the old Iman asked, his question crashing into me like a bucket of icy water. I nearly broke into a sweat trying to answer that. Why am I having trouble answering that?

Heron and I stared at him for a couple of seconds, then looked at each other and almost simultaneously cleared our throats.

“No, we’re not,” Heron replied. “We’re part of the same team, and that’s it—”

“Oh, please!” Lemuel gave us a dismissive wave of his hand. “The longer you deny it, the faster you two are going to burn. My wife and I did the same and wasted ten years before we got together. Both of us were too proud to take the first step, and… well, that’s a decade we could have spent loving each other.”

What do you say to that?

I was already burning on the inside. Judging by the look on Heron’s face, so was he. But were we ablaze because of the dynamic between us, or because Lemuel had seen through us in ways I’d never thought possible?

So, on top of all the questions we had about the Imen, the Exiled Maras, and the daemons, Heron and I were facing ourselves under a big fat question mark. What were we to each other? Most importantly, what did I want him to be to me?

I am in so much trouble…





Scarlett





(Daughter of Jeramiah & Pippa)





We made it down to the first level of the city, and spent about half an hour looking for Master Specter’s store. This part of Azure Heights was a bit more complicated as far as the streets were concerned—there were no straight lines, but plenty of sinuous junctions, making it easy to miss a turn along the way.

Master Specter’s shop could easily be missed, given the rustic appearance of the building that housed it. We were on the less “slummy” side of town, but the level of poverty was still visible to the naked eye. Most of the Imen moving around were covered in tattered dark gray and brown cloaks, and some could do with new pairs of shoes.

The store was closed—the shutters were down, and the main door was locked.

“He closed already?” Patrik muttered, looking around the corner for any sign of life.

“It looks like it,” I replied, gazing at the hand-painted sign hung over the door. Specter’s Shop was written in beautiful cursive, with elegant swirls and floral embellishments. “I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow for the fair.”

“I was hoping we’d cover more ground by then, but—”

“What do you want?” An old man’s throaty voice reverberated from above, interrupting Patrik.

We both glanced up and saw an Iman in his mid-seventies glaring down at us. His skin was pale, and his long white hair was braided in a pattern similar to that of his beard. Metallic beads capped each braid, and they jingled slightly whenever he moved.

“Are you Master Specter?” Patrik asked.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Patrik, and this is Scarlett. We’re part of the team that came to help you with your daemon problem.”

“Ah, yes… I remember you.” The old Iman nodded, with a glimmer of recognition in his pale blue eyes. “You came here in a big ball of light.”

“Indeed.” Patrik nodded, then frowned. “I thought those bearing the Master titles were all Maras. Or am I wrong?”

“You are wrong. Though there are very few of my kind who qualify for the title,” Master Specter replied. “Not many literate Imen left in this city, since our people moved out to the western plains. My family line held true to its tradition. Writing and reading were skills that my forefathers did not wish to see fade away with the passage of time.”

“I understand. We’re here because we were told you might be able to help us with some ingredients,” Patrik said.

“What are you looking for? I trade in many things.”

“Herbs and crystals that the Maras might have brought over here from Calliope. Fire orchids, green apatite, and Zurian garnet, to be precise.”

The old Iman thought about it for a minute, scratching his chin through his beard.

“I don’t have any of those, but come to the fair tomorrow,” he replied. “I know someone who sells the orchids and the apatite, but you won’t find him anywhere at this time of night. He’s a peculiar fellow…”

I exhaled sharply, somewhat disappointed that we still had to wait until the morning. Master Specter noticed my dismay, and gave us a brief smile.

“You’re not going to find Zurian garnet anywhere, though,” he continued. “The few stones that the Maras brought over from their world are currently set in ancient jewelry now. But Neraka has plenty of its own resources. They may not have an identical composition, but they’ll come close enough. There is a garnet mine on the north side, at the base of the mountain. Its walls are riddled with red garnet. The Maras use it for jewelry. You could try that. Take the main road out of the city and turn right at the golden poles. The mine will be about half a mile farther, covered in red flowers.”

Patrik and I looked at each other, then shrugged in agreement. It was worth a shot.

“Thank you, Master Specter,” Patrik said, and bowed curtly.

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome and whatnot.” The old Iman waved him away. “But don’t go out there at night. That area is riddled with dangers. It’s why we stopped mining after dark.”

“Dangers… You mean daemons?” I asked, and he nodded. “Not to worry, we’ll be careful. Thank you!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered, then pulled the shutters tight and closed his windows. My blood ran cold with the thought of running into more daemons, but, after what we’d been through in the Valley of Screams, the prospect didn’t seem that frightening anymore. I knew what they looked like and what they were capable of.

It’s easier to fight an enemy you know.

“Let’s go,” Patrik said, walking toward the main road leading down to the plain.

I followed, still replaying the kiss in my mind. The silence between us was something I’d sort of expected. My mind was blank, as I was still adjusting to a reality in which Patrik and I had kissed. Somewhere deep down, fear of rejection lingered—fear that Patrik would later turn around and tell me never to do that again. On the other hand, he had said that he could “see” me. That he acknowledged me as more than just a teammate.

And here I go, overthinking things at the wrong time…

The night sky above had turned indigo, with passing clouds that swallowed the stars as they moved toward the east. The second moon was coming up in shades of amber, casting a warmer light over the jagged edges and corners of the city’s white buildings, the picket fences, and the brown cobblestones beneath our feet.