“No, it’s not the reading. It’s that damn Codex.” She heads over to the other table where the Codex has been parked since Drae and I so expertly purloined it from Forsythe’s brownstone. As soon as she draws near, the whole thing lights up, black and purple sparks zipping along its surface. “See? I didn’t even have to touch it this time. I swear the damn thing has it out for me.”
“Wow. That’s new, huh?”
“Yep.” She glares at it and rolls her eyes. “Okay, asshole. You don’t like me—message received. The feeling ismorethan mutual.”
“What about the headaches?”
She rubs her temples. “I’ve been trying to ignore it since I walked in here tonight, but no dice.”
“Does it still feel like someone’s hammering away inside your head?”
“Oh, they’re done hammering. Now it just feels like they’re trying to straight-up erase whatever’s left inside.”
“What do you mean?”
Returning to our table, she wraps her hands around the mug and takes a long drink. “It almost reminds me of an allergy. That pressure feeling? And the brain fog… You know, now that we’re talking about it, it’s a lot like my stupid wedding bouquet—goddess, I was so out of it that night.”
“What’s the story with the bouquet?”
“That thing was cursed—I swear. Eloise picked it out, and as soon as the florist dropped it off, I was already sneezing and coughing like crazy. Luce didn’t like it either—gave the thing a wide berth. I thought I was allergic, so I tried to give it away to the girl at the hotel desk, hoping some beautiful flowers would brighten her night. But when Eloise found out, she completely freaked.”
She tells me the rest of the story—how Eloise forced her to carry it down the aisle, her head finally starting to clear when she set it on the altar. And then, finally, how the damn thing went up in a blaze of glory when her birds swooped down and knocked over the altar candles.
“The instant those flowers burned,” she says, “I knew—with a shocking burst of clarity—that the mage I was about to bind myself to wasn’t a mage at all, but a demon. It was like the fog just evaporated, and that’s when I saw his black demon eyes and heard his voice in my head. His name.Zorakkov.”
West tugs her sleeves down over her hands, wrapping her arms around herself like she’s suddenly cold.
I rise and toss another log onto the fire. “And that’s what you’re feeling now? That same kind of fog?”
“Pretty much. It’s like a low-level static in my head. Like, the more time I spend in here, the harder my thoughts are to follow. It’s not as intense as the flowers, but similar.”
“Do you remember which flowers were in the bouquet?”
“Roses and peonies, but I’ve never been allergic to those. There were also these tiny silver bell-type flowers, and a bunch of random greenery.”
“Silver bells? How tiny?”
“About the size of a pea. Oh, and they had black tips, almost like the bells were dipped in ink. They were super pretty, but I couldn’t really enjoy them.”
Damn it.
“Sit tight, West,” I say. “I’ve got a theory.”
Chapter Fifteen
ROOK
I fly up to the loft, scanning the shelves for a reference book I was working with a few weeks back. Silver bells dipped in ink… I swear I came across an illustration of flowers matching that exact description…
I finally find it—an old, leather-bound tome calledFlora and Fauna of Ancient Faerie.
“Check this out.” I glide back down and flip through the book until I find the two-page spread detailing the flowers—Midnight’s Lullaby, they’re called. “Are these the ones from your bouquet?”
West comes around to my side of the table and leans in close, her long hair sweeping over my shoulder. “Yep, that’s them. Exactly.”
“You’re certain?”
“Positive. They’re so lovely. I’d never admit this to Eloise, but I was actually kind of bummed they didn’t agree with my system.” She traces a fingertip over the sketch, reading the description. “Midnight’s Lullaby… Even the name is pretty. Too bad they were trying to murder me.”
