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ANGELTHENE, STATE OF WITHEREDGE
Travis parallel parked across the street from Witchlight Alchemy and Archives. Jewels and Lace were with him, and rolling up into the free spot behind the car were Logan and Sabrine. The truck rumbled for a few seconds before Logan cut the engine.
They’d made the decision to come here after Tamika had expressed her fear of being watched. No one had spoken to Arthur in a while, not since before Darien and the others left town, so Travis wanted to check up on him. If Tamika was being watched, there was a strong chance that the former weapons technician for Lucent Enterprises was being surveilled as well. Especially after the old man had been canned for stealing blueprints of the Arcanum Well replica.
Travis looked in the rear-view mirror. Logan and Sabrine were watching him. Waiting. It felt weird to be that person—the one who was suddenly making all the decisions. That was Darien, and when it wasn’t Darien, it was Max. And when it wasn’t either of them, which didn’t happen often, the authority shifted to Travis or Jack. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or not.
“Coast looks clear,” Lace murmured. Her eyes were black, and she was scanning the parked cars and businesses all around them. “No one seems to be lingering, and no one seems to be watching.”
Travis shut off the car. “If there’s anyone in danger right now, it’s Arthur.” At least Travis and the others had the means to protect themselves, but a human in his seventies? Arthur was practically a walking target. He opened his door. “Stay close.”
They got out, Logan and Sabrine doing the same, and waited for a gap in traffic before crossing the street. It was just after noon, the block alive with activity. Pedestrians avoided them on the sidewalk, like usual, and the odd person slowed their car to get a better look. Typical Darkslayer life. You’d think they were celebrities.
They passed under the rickety wooden sign that read WITCHLIGHT ALCHEMY AND ARCHIVES, the wood cut into the shape of a grimoire, and pushed open the heavy, creaking door.
Travis had been with the Devils for such a long time that not much surprised him anymore, but he stopped short at the sight of the tall, red-headed man standing beside Arthur’s table on the other side of the cluttered room.
Jewels wasn’t expecting Travis to stop. She walked into him, smacking her face into his back.
Sabrine stepped around them. “Roark?”
The silence that descended upon the room—empty apart from Arthur J. Kind and Roark Bright, and now Travis and his group—was thick enough to cut.
Arthur was the first to speak. “Well.” He sucked in a breath of air, and blew it out slowly. “This was bound to happen eventually,” he said to Roark. “They’re very nosey.” His watery eyes flicked to the group by the door. “Come on in. Flip the sign and lock the door, please, Travis.”
The others crossed the room and gathered around Arthur’s side of the table. Travis kept an eye on Roark as he turned the deadbolt and flipped the sign.
Travis joined the others, taking up position between Lace and Jewels. Logan stayed close to Sabrine, the alpha emitting constant heat but thankfully not trembling.
Roark kept quiet while Arthur launched into an explanation.
“Roark has brought some…grave news,” Arthur began. “For the first time since before Kalendae, the files containing the blueprints of the Arcanum Well replica have been accessed.”
Silence descended. And then Travis said, “What does that mean?”
Lace added, her question for Roark, “Are you finally going to talk to us about all this bullshit, or do we need to keep guessing and running around in circles chasing our tails?”
Roark was unfazed. And still, he didn’t speak.
Arthur said, “Roark is spelled. Like Erasmus. Shortly before the Phoenix Head Society broke apart, he and the other members were bound by a spell that prevented them from speaking of the things that happened in the society—especially not about the Arcanum Well.”
Sabrine said, “Then how was he able to talk to you about the replica? How do you know all of this?”
Arthur clasped his wrinkled hands before him. “Because it is a replica,” he replied with patience. “The silencing spell did not apply to replicas, it applied to the real thing.” Sneaky.
“What about Taega?” Travis asked, remembering back to when Darien and a few of the others had paid a visit to the Bright penthouse before Kalendae. He said to Roark, “Taega was a member of the Phoenix Head Society—we saw her in a photograph we found in the tunnels below Angelthene Academy. She told Darien a bunch of shit about the Well and Loren before she got arrested.”
A cool female voice floated through the room. “Because, Devlin, I was the first to leave.”
Their group—all except Arthur and Roark—turned to see Taega walking through a doorway that led to the back rooms.
Her heels clicked on the floor as she crossed the room. When she reached the group, she took up position at her husband’s side and folded her hands before her.
“Taega,” Arthur began, “left the Phoenix Head Society before it broke apart. Roark stayed and was soon bound to secrecy. He could no longer speak of anything that went on in the society—not even to the woman who later became his wife.” The old man gave Taega a warm smile.
“Did you know this the whole time?” Travis asked Arthur, unable to stop the betrayal prickling across his nape. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Of course I would have told you, Travis, had I known,” Arthur replied calmly. “After the Blood Moon, Roark and Taega decided to trust me with some secrets they have protected for years. And I took the liberty of trusting them as well. I think it’s high time we all worked together. And so I told them,” he concluded. “About Erasmus.”
