Liam didn’t thank him. He shifted his gaze toward the candles on the other end of the coffee table and they went out, fizzling as if they’d been drowned. He sighed and pushed the two cards toward Ryder.
“Put them away. We’re meeting everyone in a half hour.” Liam’s bare feet on the worn wood floors in Ryder’s lackluster apartment was a familiar sound. He brushed past one of the many plants Ryder had littered throughout the living room, in baskets on top of the bookshelf on the far wall, in planters beside the entertainment stand, lined up in small pots on the kitchen counter. “Can I get a light?”
Liam plucked a bundle of sage out of a mason jar next to the sink. He walked back over and stood in front of Ryder, still seated on an ottoman in front of the coffee table. Liam held the charred end of the sage in front of Ryder’s mouth.
“Can you?” Ryder teased.
Liam rolled his eyes. “May I, English major.”
Ryder reached for the Fire buried deep in his veins, opened his mouth, and blew gently across the sage.
It lit.
“Whatever showed up to watch my reading, I want it gone,” Liam said. Smoke drifted into the corners, over the table, all around. The window next to the front door was closed and the blinds were cinched shut, causing the tangy smell of it to fill the air. “Something about it wasn’t right.”
Ryder nodded. No, something about it wasn’t right. But he couldn’t say that, because Ryder shouldn’t have been able to sense it. That was Liam’s reading. Those were Liam’s cards.
Only people affected by the reading should’ve been able to feel what Liam felt.
But Ryder had sensed the wickedness. He’d felt its eyes on them, lurking above and around them, like a wraith with a crystal ball looking at their future before they’d lived it. Their future. He stood, turning from Liam to conceal the surprise on his face. Understanding slithered restlessly in his chest. He wrenched the blinds up and opened the window, shooing whatever strange entity hovered in the apartment out with the smoke.
Whatever it was, it had tethered them. Chills scaled Ryder’s arms.
The Magician. The Tower. The Devil. The Lovers.
A magical catastrophe brought about by a dark, vicious partnership.
Liam was probably right. They shouldn’t tell the others.
THEY ARRIVED AT Crescent Coffee before the rest of the circle. The little café on the south side of Port Lewis was homey and warm. It reeked of Darbonne magic, the essence of it coppery on Ryder’s tongue. It was ancient in a way only Darbonne’s, Thistle’s, and Lewellyn’s could be. The old clans. The ones who kept order over all the rest.
But orderly wasn’t his preferred practice, so he never mentioned his last name. He was always just Ryder, because being Ryder Lewellyn was a daunting half truth.
The counter at the front of the small café was next to a glass case filled with colorful pastel pastries. Banana muffins, carrot cakes, and macarons were lined up and labeled with neatly folded tags in front of them. A chalkboard above the case displayed the prices of coffees, sandwiches, and teas in swirling cursive. Tables were scattered throughout the rest of the café, wood-topped and surrounded by mismatched chairs.
“Boys,” Thalia said. She was a stunning woman with umber skin and a warm smile. Her voice was always smooth and pleasant, opposite her newly acquired power, which rolled off her in waves. She nodded to Liam, then to Ryder. “Caramel latte and rooibos?”
Liam nodded. Ryder said, “With honey, please.”
“Do you want a muffin?” Liam dug his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans as he stood in front of the counter.
Ryder shook his head. He avoided Thalia’s gaze, but her magic dug into him like talons. There was no sneaking past the Darbonne matriarch, no keeping his thoughts to himself, no weaseling out of a confrontation. He walked to the empty table in the back of the café and sat down in the corner chair closest to the wall.
Before Liam joined him, Thalia appeared. She lifted a brow at Ryder in accusation and tilted her head, eyeing him down her nose like a hawk would a mouse. Her palms settled on the tabletop and she leaned forward, the loose scoop of her white blouse obscured by a deep purple pendant.
“Ryder,” she purred, gentle, soothing, the same way his mother used to say his name when he covered his chest after she walked into his room unannounced. As if she was sorry for something she had no reason to be sorry for.
His top lip curled back in a snarl and he rolled his eyes.
“You should tell him,” Thalia whispered.
“You ascended last week and you’re already everyone’s therapist?”
Thalia shook her head, which was shaved to the skin. “I can feel your secrets. All three of them.”
Ryder’s gaze sharpened. His magic lunged at her, a warning bite. “You know my secrets. Don’t.”
Thalia’s magic was strong and unshakable. It barely flinched. She ran her hand over the top of Ryder’s buzzed head and pushed him playfully. “Or wait for the inevitable. Your choice.”
“It is my choice,” Ryder said. He looked away, uncomfortable with Thalia’s knowing eyes staring back at him. A sigil peeked out above the collar of her blouse, angry red against her dark skin. He caught sight of Liam walking over with their drinks. The bell above the door rang and Christy’s laugh followed. He glanced back at Thalia and quietly said, “I’m not hurting anyone.”
“Not yet,” Thalia whispered. She left the conversation there and turned to greet Liam with a smile as he placed their drinks on the table.
Christy twirled in, hands above her head, decorated in an assortment of chunky crystal rings. Her knuckles were blackened by stick-and-poke runes. Her long, wind-whipped hair was streaked pink and blue and black. Ryder had forgotten what color it originally was; he didn’t even know if he’d ever really seen it.
Tyler and Donovan followed. Tyler talked with his hands as he spoke, engaged in a conversation that Ryder would guess was only half as interesting as it looked from afar.
“Thalia!” Christy swung her arms over Thalia’s neck. “Congratulations! I was there, you know. It was a beautiful ceremony.”
“Thank you, Christy. I saw you standing with the Thistles. And you guys too.” She nodded as Tyler and Donovan approached. “Were they accommodating?”
“Yes, the Thistles always are.” Christy batted her hand in dismissive fashion.
“Most of the outside families joined them for the ascension. I even saw Ryder with them, between the Lewellyns and the Wolfes, right?”
Ryder straightened his back. His magic flared, hot and furious.
Liam kicked his shin under the table.
“Yeah, we were all together for it. Figured it’d be best to stick with our circle.” Christy grinned cheerily, her heart shaped face light and true. She didn’t notice Ryder’s murderous heat, which wasn’t uncommon. Christy was as white a witch as they came. Her focus never drifted from light-working, so it never drifted to Ryder. He’d waited for her to notice it—for any of them to notice it, but somehow, they hadn’t.