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The mage glanced over at the dragon with disgust and a touch of curiosity. “Witches,” she drawled. “Is that so?”
Sirus knew nearly as much of Gwendolyn as Levian had guessed in only a few short minutes. Marcus had not known much about what exactly Nestra was hunting. Only that it was an object of power in the possession of a woman. Gwendolyn was a mystery, it seemed, to everyone except Nestra, the High Priestess who wanted her. A detail that left him feeling more than a little on edge. He needed to know more. To finish the contract.
“The fact that she was able to tolerate the both of you for any length of time proves she’s an impressive creature,” Levian quipped, sipping her wine. “I know intimately how odious a task dealing with you two can be.”
Barith snorted some retort as Sirus debated his next words carefully. Coincidence or not, he knew if he trusted Levian in the slightest he’d be foolish not to ask for her help. Gwendolyn was a mystery in more ways than he cared for. Even more troubling, the path forward was unclear to him. Sirus needed to know more about what she was so that he could determine what to do next. And when it came to unraveling the mysteries of magick, Levian was quite capable.
“The contract was to keep her hidden,” he admitted. “But I’m no guardian.”
Levian huffed a deprecating laugh into her glass. “That’s putting it mildly. I do hope you didn’t frighten her too terribly.”
He ignored the sting of annoyance. He’d not frightened Gwendolyn at all, actually. Quite the opposite. “She needs to be taken somewhere the zephyrs cannot touch her,” he replied.
The mage leaned against the edge of her worn dark green velvet wingback chair. “Are you asking my advice?” she pressed with a touch of amusement.
“Yes.”
A small, knowing grin spread over her lips. “That desperate to be rid of her already?”
He gave no outward show, but inside Sirus bristled. He was far from desperate, but he did feel a pressing urgency to resolve the issue. They’d come to London only to give him time to sort out the next steps of their plan. Despite his ridiculous draw to Gwendolyn, Sirus had no desire to play the role of watchdog. He’d only ever intended to find the object Marcus was afraid would fall into Nestra’s hands and hide it away. That the object happened to be a living, breathing woman complicated things, but it didn’t alter his ultimate goal. He would find somewhere to tuck her away, complete his contract, satisfy his blood debt, and return to his peaceful, quiet existence.
The mage read his silence as annoyance, and it seemed to amuse her even more. She sipped her wine and gave a little shrug. “Without knowing her lineage or her powers, it’s hard to say where would be best,” she told him. “Are there any other details you can share?”
“No.”
The mage glanced at him sideways, as if she’d expected him to say as much if he bothered to say anything at all. “She’s a curious creature,” Levian observed lightly.
“She’s tough,” Barith chuckled, followed by another loud belch.
Levian’s nose turned up. “Because she tolerated your company without throwing a pot at your head?” she snarked.
The dragon eyed her with a twinkle of mischief and a sly smile. “She tolerated me just fine.” The mage rolled her eyes. “I was actually talking about the vamp,” Barith went on. “She might be the first lass I’ve ever met who actually doesn’t seem to mind him.”
Sirus kept his expression placid. He disliked that Gwendolyn’s comfort around him was so clearly strange and very noticeable.
Levian eyed him with curiosity. “It is odd,” she observed. “I couldn’t help but notice it either.”
“Where can she go?” Sirus pressed, pushing them back to the topic at hand.
Barith gave a soft snort of disbelief and shook his head.
“Ever charming,” Levian sighed. “Why does Nestra want her?” she asked outright. Sirus shifted on his feet, and even well into her drink the mage noticed the small movement. “You cannot tell me, or won’t?” she huffed.
“I do not know.” The truth.
The mage took a sip from her glass and eyed him skeptically. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that, vampire?”
“You’ve called me worse.”
With a devilish grin, she replied, “Goddess above, I know that to be true.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “There are things I can do—to test her magicks. I’ll do it as a favor. Though I’m still curious as to how you got involved in this. I can’t help but wonder who or what might have tempted you with such a dull task as playing rescuer. I assumed you’d skulk around that hidden ancestral castle of yours for the rest of eternity.”
Barith barked a sudden, exuberant laugh, causing Levian to jerk and spill some of her drink in her lap. “I damn near forgot!” the dragon boomed with glee. “You owe me”—he scrunched his face, trying to recall the details—“five thousand gold coins! The Spanish ones.”
Levian scowled deeply, casting away the stain on her dress. “You’re drunk.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Barith huffed, letting a puff of smoke flare from his nostrils. “You owe me, and I’m not goin’ to let—belch—ya wiggle out of this one.”
Sirus was far from surprised to learn that they had taken bets on whether or not he would be seen again. They were both rather aggressive gamblers who bet on the most trivial things when they were in each other’s company.
