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Wynter went back to pointing out the evils of karma potions to a still-huffy Delilah, but she let her words trail off as Cain entered the kitchen wearing an expression so carefully blank it made her skin prickle with unease. “Hey,” she said. “What brings you here?”
“I was heading back from Seth’s Keep,” he told her, his voice carefully even. “I thought I could collect you on my way home so we can walk there together. You almost ready?”
She gave a slow nod. “I just need to grab some stuff.” She urged him to follow her to her bedroom, closed the door behind them, and then turned to him. “Okay, what happened?”
Cain let out a sigh and took one of the crystals from her shelf. Idly toying with it, he brought her up to speed, telling her about his meeting with Abel and Adam, his visit with Eve and her grandchildren, and also the conclusions that he and the other Ancients had reached regarding the situation.
Wynter chewed on the inside of her cheek. “If Adam did send the Aeons here but failed to enlighten Abel, he’s a complete tool unless he doesn’t care that Abel might come here to ‘save’ his children and Eve. He’d have to know that Abel would be tempted to do that.”
“Tempted, yes, Adam would know he’d be tempted,” said Cain. “But he’d also firmly believe that Abel wouldn’t act on said temptation without permission.”
“But you know how to do what Dantalion said and push Abel’s buttons so hard that he’ll be angry enough to brave his father’s disapproval.”
“I do.” Cain returned the crystal to the shelf, setting it in front of one of the many books there. “And I’ll be sure to do that. I only hope it will work.”
Wynter crossed to him and planted her hands on his chest. “You’ve had a weird day, huh?” He’d not only had to deal with Abel again, he’d been face-to-face with none other than Adam—a man he loathed who’d stolen his childhood and robbed Cain of a relationship with his own mother. Chatting with Eve at Seth’s Keep, still unable to feel much of anything toward her, would also have taken its toll on him.
Cain slipped his arms around her. “You’ll make it better by coming home with me so I can fuck you hard and long in my bed.”
Her hormones got all excited, but Wynter recognized the comment for the distraction that he’d meant it to be. “In other words, you don’t want to talk about the day’s events anymore.”
“I’ve spent hours discussing them with the other Ancients. I’d rather that you and I now shove them aside and just focus on each other.”
Wynter snaked her hands up to his shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
A few days later, Wynter held up the katana sword, watching the sunlight that beamed through the shed window dance along the steel. “Very nice,” she breathed, covetous fingers ghosting down her spine. She did love a pretty blade.
“Take a seat,” she invited the dragon shifter who owned the katana.
He perched himself on one of the two stools while she laid the weapon on the workbench.
“Any particular illusion you’d prefer?” she asked.
“I want something that will confuse and disorientate my opponent.”
Wynter pursed her lips. “I can make that happen.”
She hovered one hand above the katana and called to her magick. Shimmering in the air like waves of heat, dark vaporous fingers with an ultraviolet undertone reached out and sank into the steel. It glowed with heat and sparked with power as her magick engraved runes onto the blade.
“Well, damn,” he whispered.
She gestured at the shelf. “All those bottles are reversal potions. Are you comfortable with having the enchantment tested on you and then drinking one of the brews afterwards? It’s the only way you’ll personally see and feel the effect of the runes.”
Rolling his shoulders, he slipped off the stool. “Do it.” She used the tip of the sword to puncture the pad of his thumb. Blood welled to the surface, he double-blinked, and then his head began whipping from side to side. “Whoa, I’m seeing, like, twenty of you right now.”
“And your opponent would see several of you, which would confuse, distract, and disorientate him. The illusion will last for approximately twenty minutes. Enough time for you to hand them their ass.”
He nodded in approval, his mouth curling on one side. “I like it.”
Once he’d chugged down a reversal potion, he handed over payment, waving away her offer of a healing potion for his thumb—the wound would heal quickly, apparently.
He’d no sooner left than another person entered, souring Wynter’s good mood. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
Her inner monster lifted an eyelid and watched as Ishtar glanced around the shed, visibly unimpressed. The entity didn’t fear the Ancient, but it had absolutely no liking for her. So rather than return to resting, it raised its head and observed her closely.
Wynter didn’t say anything. She simply waited, wondering what could possibly have motivated the bitch to seek her out. The last time Ishtar had done so, her purpose had been to talk Wynter into believing that Cain had no real interest in her. She’d like to think that the female Ancient had given up on that. She’d like to.
Finally, Ishtar met her eyes, her expression blank. “I thought you and I could talk.”
