“I’m not really sure how this works,” she continued, barreling on and hoping like hell something logical would eventually fall out of her mouth. “My friend thought I might be able to find work here.”
“Why have you not found work elsewhere?” the head mage asked.
Jaci blew out a sigh of frustration. “Ever since the royal vampires made their power play, it’s almost impossible for a girl with my talents to find work.”
“What sort of talents?” he asked, his hood falling back to reveal pale gray eyes shining with a dark malevolence—a malevolence she was counting on.
His interest bolstered Jaci’s confidence, setting her back on track.
With a sly grin, she shrugged and said, “The kind that would cause a love-and-light mage to run scurrying for the nearest purification bath.”
He laughed, then looked at each of the others in turn. They nodded, one at a time.
The cult-vibes crawled across her skin again, and Jaci rubbed her arms.
“You’ve come to the right place,” the mage said. “Why don’t you tell me more about the sort of work you’re interested in?”
“But… here? With… everyone?” Jaci made a show of looking nervous and mistrustful.
Gray-Eyes nodded sagely. Compassionately. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he said, “None who carry the Dark Flame would betray the trust of a fellow mage. Or, in your case, a witch.” He laughed again, his fingers tracing soft circles on her shoulder.
She bit back a gag and forced a grateful smile. “Well, I’m not the biggest fan of the royals, as you might’ve gathered. I’d heard there might be some… alternative groups working to set things right? To part the veils, rebalance the scales, so to speak?” She held his gaze, hoping he got the metaphor. She was the stranger here—coming out swinging with “Hey, I’m a necromancer and I hear Renault Duchanes is a hell of a guy” was probably a little too ballsy, but that was the message she wanted to get across.
Again, Gray-Eyes took the bait. “There’s a vampire working on some new methods. He might be able to use your expertise.”
Jackpot.
“A vampire?” Not wanting to seem too eager, she shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “I was hoping to connect with some mages or witches.”
“You don’t like vampires?”
“I don’t like them, I don’t trust them, and I don’t appreciate their smug sense of superiority.” She furrowed her brow, pretending to mull it over. “I’m willing to compromise for the right opportunity, but the biggest challenge I’ve found with vampires is they’re so damn limiting.”
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“Most of the vampires I’ve worked with over the years have extremely restrictive views on witches. On what we can do for them. My talents are wasted on magical tattoos and the occasional hex. I’m looking for something a bit more…” She flashed a dark grin. “Challenging.”
“Renault Duchanes is not your typical bloodsucker. His needs are as exceptional as his vision.”
Renault? A visionary?
Wow, this guy isreallydrinking the Kool-Aid…
“Renault Duchanes?” she said, letting her genuine revulsion shine through. “I thought he took the coward’s way out after the attack on his old club.”
“He’s simply gathering new assets. Re-assessing. Rebuilding. He just purchased a warehouse property in Newark,” the mage said proudly, defensively, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone thinking his friend Renault was a cowardly loser who’d run away screaming at the first sight of enemy fire.
“And you think I can help with this… rebuilding effort?” she asked, pretending to consider it in earnest.
“Oh, Iknowyou can.” Those gray eyes assessed her. Dissected her. There was death in those eyes, she realized suddenly. An emptiness she hadn’t noticed before.
“In fact,” he said, and the rest of the mages rose as one, slowly closing ranks around her. “You can helpallof us, witch-demon.”
Witch-demon…
It was just like the demons outside the hospital that night.
How the fuck did they know?
