Contrary to what one might think, this wasn’t the poor side of town. It was where you lived if you worked with magic’s darker side. The kind that harmed as well as accomplished goals. But just because it harmed didn’t make it bad. It was all up to interpretation.
While a lot of these supernaturals were occasionally on the wrong side of the law, they weren’t outright lawbreakers. The Magica would crack down on that. They walked the line with things like blood magic—illegal if you do it without the consent of the donor, but otherwise acceptable. Their magic cast a shadow over the buildings. It was hard not to make the comparison of dark versus light magic, though it wasn’t that simple.
Aidan slowed the car to a crawl as we neared the address. We rolled by the narrow buildings. If I squinted, I could make out the color underneath the grime. The buildings had once been brightly painted.
“There it is,” I pointed to a building that had once been purple. The windows were dark, the stairs leading up to the stoop narrow and rickety. A sign hung over the door that read Apothecary’s Jungle.
Aidan pulled the car over and parked in front of Mordaca’s home. He moved in front of me as we climbed the creaking stairs. He was trying to block me from danger. While part of me was annoyed by it, the smart part of me thought let him.
A brass lion door knocker scowled at us from the dark purple door. Aidan knocked it and the lion roared. I grinned. I kinda liked Mordaca already.
But it wasn’t Mordaca who answered. A hulking, shirtless man with wild golden hair pulled open the door. His scowl turned into widened eyes. He stepped back and bowed.
“Origin.” His deep voice was laced with respect.
Whoa. So shifters took this Origin thing seriously. I assumed he was a shifter. His magic smelled animalistic, with a hint of something else. Something dry—like the desert. Maybe the plains of Africa? I’d never been, but I guessed that might be what I was smelling. With his crazy golden hair streaked through with hundreds of shades, I’d bet lion.
“Lion,” Aidan greeted.
“I am Mathias,” the lion said as he stepped back. “Welcome.”
“Just who are you letting into my house at this ungodly hour?” an annoyed female voice asked from within.
Mathias stepped back, pulling the door farther open. Though the foyer was dim, I could make out the stairs leading upward. The woman who descended looked like Elvira’s cousin. No joke. Bouffant black hair, a slinky, plunging dress of the same shade, and so much eye makeup she looked like she was wearing a Zoro mask.
It was only seven thirty, and she was more put together than I ever was. Her magic rolled over me in waves. She was strong. Not nearly as strong as Aidan, but very powerful. Her magic prickled at my skin—kind of like rolling a hairbrush over my arm. The only other sense I got off of her was the taste of whiskey. I never understood why people’s magic tasted the way it did, but I assumed it meant that her magic burned going down.
“This is the Origin,” Mathias said.
“My friend Claire called about us yesterday,” I said. “We need help with a tracking spell.”
“Oh, yes. I remember,” Mordaca said. “We’ve just returned from LA, and I was about to head to bed.”
So this was evening for her. That explained why she was so done up at such an early hour when she really didn’t look like a morning person. In my head, morning people were always wearing workout clothes and perky smiles. The only thing perky about Mordaca was her tits.
“Come in,” she said, gesturing with a hand that looked like it was tipped with black claws. They were just nails filed to a point, but the effect did the trick. She looked exactly like I’d expect a Blood Sorceress to look. This was the chick that Connor had the hots for? Wow, kid.
I followed Aidan into the dark foyer, trying not to wrinkle my nose at the overpowering incense that wafted from a back room.
“You can go upstairs, pet.” Mordaca patted the lion’s bare chest and he growled, but he did as she said. “Come with me.”
We followed her to the door at the back of the foyer. The black and white tiled floor and the ornately carved ceiling were cleaner than I’d expected. The dark and the smell made me think there’d be a thick layer of cobwebs, but I could see none.
The foyer led to a cluttered back room. Shelves of jars and crystals covered the walls, and a big wooden table stood in the middle. A workshop. A hearth burned in the corner, and herbs hung from the ceiling.
“Do you sell a lot of charms?” I asked.