“Ready?” His rough voice made me jerk my gaze upward to meet his eyes.
I nodded, then sucked in a breath and held it, bracing myself for the freezing chill of the water.
“Now.” Roarke’s voice made me snap my eyes closed.
I felt his muscles flex as he folded his wings, then we plummeted through the air, hitting the water with an icy blast. It was so cold that my head ached like the worst ice cream headache imaginable. We sank quickly, propelled by our fall.
Unable to help myself, I opened my eyes. The water glowed bright green. I leaned over to peer down, catching sight of the boat below. The bow loomed eerily in the water, a real ghost ship. The deck still intact, though the smokestack was gone, no doubt lost during the wreck. Machinery hulked at the stern. The engines, probably. At the very end was a massive paddlewheel.
The boat was in nearly perfect condition after all these years, down to the pair of old leather boots sitting in the mud next to the hull. Thrown off by one of the men who’d jumped overboard to make it easier to swim? I shuddered, hoping he’d been one of the two to make it to shore.
We drifted through the icy water down to the deck. My lungs were burning from lack of air, and I clung to Roarke, grateful when I finally felt us stop sinking. Roarke’s feet had hit the deck. He reached out a hand, and a portal glowed in front of us. We moved toward it, and a moment later, the crazy whirlwind pull of the Underpath sucked us in, and the world turned black.
Chapter Two
A moment later, Roarke stepped out into the alley in the older part of Magic’s Bend, Oregon. He set me down as quickly as possible and stepped away. I shivered when I lost his warmth.
Old buildings loomed on either side of us, and the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow on the cobblestone alleyway. Our clothes dripped cold water onto the stones. The tornado of black mist swirled around Roarke as he resumed his human form. Magic returned the shirt to his chest.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. “That’s easily the weirdest form of travel.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
I nodded gratefully and followed him out of the alley, keeping a wary eye on my surroundings. The ornate, colorful buildings of the historic district rose three stories tall on either side of the street. Supernaturals of all species roamed Magic’s Bend, and though demons technically weren’t allowed to leave the Underworld, they did. And this was the perfect place for them to blend.
They could be anywhere.
Were they really drawn to me?
I shivered again, as much from the stress as from the cold. I could handle myself against demons. No problem. But against a lot of them? When they ambushed me?
That was less certain.
Particularly if that weird soul thing happened every time I killed one. I did not want to be adopting all kinds of crazy powers. Especially demon powers.
We hurried across the street toward Roarke’s sleek black car and climbed in. The fancy electric engine was silent as the grave as he pulled away from the curb, but the warm air blasted, making my muscles melt.
So much better than Scooter, my motorcycle. I loved Scooter, but he didn’t boast heated air.
“I’m going to ask again. What the hell is going on?” Roarke navigated smoothly through traffic.
“I don’t know.”
“There are things you aren’t telling me.”
Yeah, duh. There were things I didn’t tell a lot of people. Like the fact that I was a FireSoul. He knew enough of my secrets; he didn’t need that one, too. Not until I could trust him. If I ever could.
“I really don’t know what’s going on.” I rubbed my upper arms for warmth, wincing at the sting of the burn on my arm.
“How’s your arm?”
“The usual.” Hurt like hell. But that wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory for a mercenary.
Roarke pulled his cellphone from his pocket and punched in a number.
“That thing still works?” It should have gotten soaked in the lake.
“Magic.” He raised it to his ear and spoke quickly, commanding someone to come meet us at Ancient Magic. Then he hung up.
“Who was that?”
“Healer.” He turned onto Factory Row, the street that held my shop and apartment. “For that arm.”
As Warden of the Underworld, Roarke had an endless stream of demon minions to do his bidding. One was a healer, which came in handy at times like these.
“Thanks.” I didn’t even want to look at the wound because I was pretty sure that the leather was melted to my skin. “You sure you don’t have other things to be doing besides helping me out?”
His gaze landed on me briefly. “Even if I didn’t like you, you’re the most important thing to happen in Underworld developments since I became Warden. Not only did you escape hell after dying, you’ve got an unknown—and forbidden—connection to death magic. That makes you my highest priority.”
“You like me?” Of course my dumb brain latched on to that part. I was smooth.
His mouth snapped shut, and he clammed up real quick, focusing on the road.
Yeah, that was more on par with the last few days. He might have kissed me a few days ago, but he’d barely spoken to me since then. What the heck was going on with him?
I was used to a more linear progression with guys. One kiss led to more kisses. Or if it was a bad kiss, the guy was out of there like the Road Runner after dropping an anvil on Wile E. Coyote’s head.
But it hadn’t been a bad kiss. It’d been a great kiss. And then…nothing. Back to business as usual, with Roarke still helping. Which made our situation as clear as mud. The lack of clarity sucked because I liked him, but the scary part was that he knew some of my most dangerous secrets. So I needed him on my side, and any kind of cool-down made me nervous.
“We need to figure out what the fact that you’re the Guardian means,” Roarke said. “And this new development with your powers and the demons only makes that harder. You’re at risk until you can control your power.”
It had been only four days since the Phantom dragon named Draka had told me I was the Guardian between the Underworld and this one. We still had no idea what that meant, and Draka had been extremely unhelpful since she’d disappeared right after dropping that bombshell.
He parked the car outside of Ancient Magic, right in a pool of light cast by one of the imitation gas lamps that were meant to give the street a historic feel. It worked, especially now that the sun was starting to set, casting the old factory buildings in shadow. If you got rid of the cars and Scooter, who was parked across the street, the place looked like it could still be in its heyday in the nineteenth century.
I climbed out of the car in front of Ancient Magic. The wide glass windows were dark. It wasn’t even five o’clock, but it was close enough that it looked like Nix had closed up a bit early.