“I need you to sound a little less interested in that, Amelia.”
She scoffed. “Right back at you. You’re too boring to ever do it. But you keep looking at him like that, I think he might be able to persuade you otherwise.”
The handsome disappearing stranger definitely wasn’t a werewolf.
Reading the confusion on my face, she nudged her head in the direction I’d come from. “You were staring at him. Hard.”She pointed to the handsome man at the bar, who was definitely a wolf shifter. It was harder to see from a distance, but up close, the duality of shifter and human was apparent. Unlike the animal they shared attributes with, they had masterful control of the tapetum lucidum and flicked their glowing eyes at their discretion to make it harder to detect them when they tracked. This guy was the Chicago pack’s Beta. I knew of him and left it at that. His interest in us gawking waned when a woman sidled in next to him.
“I wasn’t looking at him. There was another man in front of him.”
Amelia blinked several times in his direction and made a face. She lifted her empty cup. I figured she got distracted draining the remainder of it, probably contributing missing him to her drink.
She beamed. “Love the hair.” Having witnessed firsthand the time it took to achieve my hairstyle, she knew it was the reason I often settled for protective styles, twists, or buns.
Amelia’s curly auburn hair was disheveled as though she was dancing with her head more than her body, or she’d run her fingers through it too much. She’d definitely had more than the one drink she claimed to have had when she called half an hour ago to make sure I was coming and hadn’t given in to my alternative plan of either binge-watching TV or reading.
Rachel approached the table, taking the seat across from me before giving meThe Rachel.She was a talented practitioner, but her greatest gift was her ability to make people feel like they were the only person in the room and had her undivided attention. Her broad smile brightened her intense violet eyes. Her black ruched shirt with a sweetheart neckline contrasted with her pearl-colored skin. Long waves of strawberry-blond hair framed her face.
“Thanks for helping us on such short notice,” I said, earning me a frown from Amelia.
“I don’t know how you do it. They’re creepy as fuck,” Amelia said. She tolerated vampires but maintained her extremely vocal stance about them being the oddest of the supernaturals.
“Yet you’re fine with a human shifting to a wolf?” I spouted out the defense I’d used too many times with her.
She returned her typical counter. “At least they breathe. They aren’t immortal. And they eat food, not people.”
“Shifters heal at a rate that render them nearly immortal.” They healed fast and aged at half the rate of humans. “Besides, you know vampires don’t eat people. They just need blood to survive.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, because that distinction makes it better. You’re a terrible surrogate for the vampires. They need a better PR rep,” she teased, leaning into me, vodka wafting from her breath.
It wasn’t my job, but more often than not, I was running PR campaigns, putting out metaphorical fires, and downplaying some of their less savory actions.
Surveying the room that was becoming more crowded by the minute, I saw William’s familiar face in a corner. It wasn’t an exclusive section, although it was always blocked off and seemingly reserved for friends of the owner or anyone willing to pay the charge for privacy. William was both. He smiled, lifted his glass of amber liquid, and took a sip. The gesture was a greeting and a dismissal, stopping me inviting him to join us.
Despite the smile hiding the edges of his fangs, he appeared contemplative and sad. I remembered the date. It was always on this date he’d slip away from the house and stay away. My first year working for the houses, I noticed Belham’s worried, pitying look when William left. They never offered a reason, but I speculated that it had something to do with it being his vampirebirthday. They kept a lot of secrets, but I always assumed that William was changed willingly. From his expression now, I wasn’t so sure. New rules had been established in the last twenty-five years, making it a crime to change someone without consent. Vampires weren’t known for their willingness to follow anyone’s rules, but the dominant houses abided by that one.
“What do you want to drink?” Rachel asked me, standing from the table. Her frame allowed better negotiation between the spaces. I declined the offer with a shake of my head.
“I’ll have a—” Amelia began.
“Water,” Rachel piped. “You’ll have water.”
“And this.” I handed Amelia the small box that held a few chocolates and macaroons from her favorite shop, or “chocolate artisans” as they had branded themselves. The niche chocolatier managed to thrive despite their limited hours of operation. Oddly, that was their appeal. Amelia’s smile widened as she opened the container and jammed a chocolate into her mouth. To my surprise, she offered some to Rachel. Amelia was generous to a fault until it came to her favorite foods and then she became an unconscionable miser. Rachel watched as she savored the food and declined.
“Be back in a sec,” Rachel announced before heading to the bar.
“She doesn’t respond anymore,” Amelia admitted once Rachel was out of earshot, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her words were precise and slow with the effort to keep from slurring. Vina used magic extensively to communicate with Amelia, using disappearing texts for woodland creatures to speak as a means of staying in contact with Amelia while remaining under the radar.
The same pained expression moved over Amelia’s face that emerged anytime she discussed her mother’s choice to be with her first love: magic. Not Amelia and her father. At four,Amelia’s parents had divorced, and she and her father moved across the street from my family. My parents noticed that any inquiries about Amelia’s mother made Walden sad and Amelia confused, so Vina was never discussed.
Years later, someone in Amelia’s coven had brought up the infamous Vina, whose name alone evoked emotions that ranged from reticent admiration to pure disdain. Conversations about her always escalated into a heated discussion of whether she was a villain or hero. Some ridiculed her for stealing magic rather than doing everything she could to save her coven. And then there were some witches who believed she’d initiated the battle for the sole purpose of defeating her coven and stealing their magic. “Why else would you learn how to stop the shadow gods?” I’d heard some witches ask during one of their spirited exchanges. The one thing everyone seemed to agree upon was that the shadow gods would have their revenge.
Vina had done what most had considered impossible. She’d successfully blocked the shadow gods from entering her coven’s home, and she’d absorbed the magic of the battle’s casualties. Coven fights were rare, but when they occurred, there was a fierce display of intense magical skills and destructive spells. Fights were usually sparked by disputes over magical objects and spellbooks, or betrayal. The reason behind the Nightshade–Grand Park attack on Lunar Veil–Grand Park was unknown, but Vina managed to gain the magic of her coven, violently defeating the Nightshade witches while also taking their magic in the process and evading the shadow gods.
Magic was complex, dangerous, and tenebrous, and the shadow gods were the great equalizers. They made sure that magic died with its owner, preventing its acquisition by another and the creation of someone so powerful they couldn’t be reined in.
Amelia wore the sins of her mother as if they were her own, despite my attempts to convince her otherwise. I hated that for her.
Vina’s extensive magic abilities were a testament to her controversial deeds. She was the reason I was alive, which complicated my feelings about her and how she’d acquired the magic. Amelia wasn’t strong or skilled enough to save me, but her mother was. It was the stolen, illegal magic she possessed that made it possible.
