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A dozen more voices rose up from the grey snow around her. In unison, they croaked out, “Have you come for assistance we can give?”

She could not see them, but she surmised they were likely warty toads as well. “Um, have you got any idea where this earring is?”

There was a long stretch of deep, but incredibly loud toad speech while they discussed how best to answer her question. And, while yes, it would be nice to have help finding this wretched earring; at the moment, she was overcome with worry for Oleander.

The one on the tree hopped higher up until its slimy claws rested on her shoulder. “We know not where this earring be.” The toad began sadly, before her voice rose hopefully as she added, “All the same, we are wondering why you do not ask Slang for the assistance you seek?”

“I’m—I’m nervous to seek Slang out again, if I’m honest.” Peri glanced over at the door where Oleander still hadn’t returned. “The last time I bargained with them it did not go as intended.”

From the snowy glade came a chorus of croaked, “My brother they ate once!” and “Good on you’s! Terrifying they are.”

The toad on her shoulder crept closer, until her two tiny claws were digging into Peri’s neck for support. It was an ungainly feeling. The toad croaked into her ear, “Just remember little hellion, if you’ll ever be needing help—Slang answers questions best, with bloody little sacrifices in tow.”

Then she hopped nimbly down onto the snow-packed ground in front of Peri. Even as her unease for Oleander grew, a smile pulled across her lips at the knot of toads so earnest to help her. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ever glad to be of help! One cannot hop across Hell alone. That’s why happy we were, when you were helping our Oleander,” the toad from her shoulder said. “We need him to give us the great starfall!”

She gave a panicked laugh. “I—I’m really just checking on him. He’s my… research partner.”

“Righty-ho! That is delightful a reason to be creeping behind a tree and watching. But if you ever have more need of us, come visit us here once more. Toodle-oo!” Then she sprang off into the snow and was gone.

“Wait! How should he make the stars fall?” Peri called after them. Only the toads had already hopped off to their next snowdrift and she was once more alone.

Peri turned back to the door Oleander had disappeared through, the charm of the toads fading as worry once more overwhelmed her. She considered all she’d seen, and how much working with Oleander recently had defied her expectations of him. Gone was the indolent demon she’d always known him to be. And now?

Oleander strode out of the building with a few books in hand. He held them in such a way that they’d be soaked through in minutes. She ran to him, pulling sheets of soft wax from her satchel. When she reached him, she snatched the books from him to wrap them in the wax papers. The titles were odd; A History of the Arcane Vaults and Mind Shields for Beginners.

She brushed stray hair from his face. “Did you get the help you needed?”

His eyes were dark clouds again, and it chilled her to see it. Nodding slowly, he took the wax-wrapped books back and turned away, trudging through the sheets of rain away from her. The hand that had touched his face swung to her side, burning. She made a fist to ease the heat and then stretched her fingers out wide.

Then those fingers reached for her lips, as if in comfort as she watched his outline fade into the unceasing, grey downpour.

Chapter

Fourteen

OLEANDER BRIGHTMORE

It had been a few days since Samael had given Oleander the books to help him. It was tricky because if he read them looking for ways to help himself, his thoughts would be averted. Likewise, he found himself unable to name the entity shoved inside of him, so for lack of a more exact name, he named it the shadow.

Sometimes he attempted to thwart the shadow, but anything direct lead to it temporarily taking over his mind—causing him to lose both memory of what he’d been reading, as well as the focus to continue. There were ways around it, but it required artifice; something Oleander was often too tired to employ.

The shadow moved through his memories, whispered through his thoughts—an unwelcome interloper, a reminder of what his father’s approval had brought him. Days passed in a haze. Oleander tried not to worry about it, but the dark inky presence lingered in the corners of his mind.

He sought out answers in ancient texts or histories—trying to find anything he could about possession. So far, all he’d found were vague warnings and empty legends.

Today, however, the whispers had ceased, leaving only a strange, unsettling silence. Oleander couldn’t shake the feeling that it was only biding its time, preparing for the moment when it would finally take control. His suspicions gnawed at him, a growing fear that the shadow within him was waiting for the right moment—when it had the strength and the certainty of success.

He clenched his fists, aware now that more often than not these days, his own body was no longer fully his own. The shadow was there, waiting. He just wasn’t certain what this thing was waiting for.

He’d practiced the first mental shield he’d been able to focus on from Mind Shields for Beginners. It helped, allowing him to form a string of thoughts about his predicament without an overtaking of his mind and body. He felt more like himself now than he had for an entire moonphase. He wasn’t sure what to do about the book covering the history of the Arcane Vaults. Getting into those vaults was nigh impossible.

In an effort to calm himself while he contemplated a solution, Oleander sat on his bed, furiously knitting himself a fog-grey Scarf of Protection. The yarn had been woven by runic spiders and the pattern had been almost impossible to find. There was no guarantee that it would truly protect the wearer, but Oleander already found that the further he knit, the more comfort he felt. Comfort was its own sort of protection, after all. Furthermore, his vanity appreciated that the silken yarn was a gleaming pearlescent colour which would lie elegantly against his dark sapphire skin.

He’d been knitting for all of an hour when Wisteria burst into his room. Rarely was she so genuinely excited, but he too had felt their wards being breached and knew that at any moment a hellcat and its rider would burst onto the balcony outside of his window, waiting for him to let them in.

He glanced up from his knitting needles to glare at his sister. She’d obviously dressed in a hurry; her long soft pink jacket lay slightly askew across her shoulders, and her hair that was normally immaculately straight looked the tiniest bit dishevelled.