“I’m allowed to speak now?”
“Within reason.”
Raya hesitated before speaking. “I’m impressed.”
He slapped the bar. “Hell’s bells. Finally, I get the better of you.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He sipped his drink with an air of self-satisfaction, never breaking eye contact.
Warmth blossomed over her skin as she took a second sip.
7
Recovery from a night of absinthe and demons required a recharge in more ways than one. First, coffee and pastries. Then a few more pastries.
Then to recharge her wand.
Phoenix had pocketed her wand during the previous night’s outing, leaving her unable to pick up stray currents of magic in the demons’ secret gathering place, which was just as well—if she’d tried to absorb their power, they’d most likely have thrown her out, or worse.
Luckily, there was more than one way to recharge a wand. Moonlight and sunlight could be picked up just by wearing the wand in her hair. Other methods required a more oblique approach. There were reasons she’d spent years crashing weddings—events that inspired love, laughter, and tears were more than just emotionally charged.
They were magically charged, too.
In Paris, however, with her utter lack of language skills, she’d be unlikely to pass unquestioned, leaving Parisian wedding-crashing off-limits.
One way to recharge a wand—if you could pull it off—was to draw on the ambient power of artifacts, or works invested with great creative power. With dozens of museums within easy walking distance, Raya felt spoiled for choice.
She’d selected the nearby medieval museum for the sheer age of its collection. The fact that it sat atop an ancient Roman bath, one of the oldest sites in Paris, made it even more appealing. Raya checked the map in her hands, reorienting herself as she chose between turning onto a side street or continuing straight ahead before resuming her walk.
She recognized the museum by its steep roof and tiny turrets, which peeked over a castle-like wall enclosing the courtyard. To her relief, entrance to the museum required no conversation with the attendant. She paid the minimal fee with a few wrinkled bills and proceeded into the exhibits.
The trick would be twofold: to find the best sources of power, and to quietly absorb enough to recharge her wand without tipping off any nearby witches. Everyone did it, but it didn’t pay to draw attention to yourself while doing so.
The room of stained glass stopped her in her tracks. The jet black walls and low lighting made the glowing glass appear to float in midair. She gazed up at one of the circular pieces depicting a red-faced demon abducting a woman. A smile slid across her lips as she caressed the wand in her hair, delicately encouraging it to take in the sparkling light.
Oh, the irony.
Feeling the magic of the art prickle her skin, she turned her gaze to other pieces. Most depicted men in states of sin or exultation. A stained glass angel drew her eye with his golden wings and an oversized flaming sword.
She could feel the touch of time on her shoulder, her lifespan a butterfly’s in comparison to Phoenix and his immortal kin. Why did she allow him to stay near her even as his presence reminded her of her own mortality?
Perhaps it was because of his power. She’d summoned him, after all, and bound him to her will for a while, when she needed assistance—but those days were past.
Someday, when he became bored, he would leave her.
On closer inspection, the scenes depicted in the glass struck her as foreboding, even sad. Her stomach twisted.
Time to move on.
Raya entered the echoing rooms of the Roman bath. Her quiet footsteps took a meandering path to carvings of Jupiter, Vulcan, and the heavenly twins, Castor and Pollux. She lingered before the likeness of Cernunnos, the Stag Lord of the druids, before entering a room full of Christian altarpieces and sculptures.
So many millennia, so many beliefs. She touched the crystal on her wand and felt it tremble. The effort to draw lightly, to restrain from inhaling the latent power too fast and falling senseless on the floor, left her light-headed.
Gripping the guardrail, Raya paused to catch her breath before climbing the stairs to the final exhibit.
The narrow stairwell opened to a dimly lit circular room with strategically placed spotlights aimed on six massive tapestries.
