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"Here we go, watch your step," Augustus said, guiding Mara through the doorway and into the darkness.
Eighteen
"It isa complicated business to catch the heart of a saint. It's even harder to keep it." — Sayings of the Blessed Crow.
Mara's pulse was in her mouth, excitement fizzing in her veins like champagne bubbles. She descended a looping set of dark stone stairs and into the red-tinged gloom of the Blood Moon Bar.
Candles were burning everywhere in stone niches, on tables and bookshelves. Crystal lamps were throwing glittering lights in dark corners, and everything still seemed to be in half-light gloom.
Velvet chairs and lounges were arranged haphazardly in groups, multicolored cocktails smoked, strings played and echoed off the subterranean chambers, and everywhere there was the hum and buzz of magic in the air.
"Every year, this place looks different. This year seems to have been decorated by Erik, the Phantom of the Opera," Augustus commented with a wry smile. "No one really knows how big it is because it changes, depending on how many supernaturals turn up."
His eyes glowed, and Mara started in surprise. Augustus's changing eyes were filled with soft silver magic, and the tips of his fingers glowed softly.
"No glamours here, remember?" he explained.
"I do now. This is fascinating…" Mara trailed off. She traced the veins of magic that stretched from his fingers and up his hands like jagged lightning bolts.
"I must say, I find your golden halo very becoming," he admitted, looking at the space above her head.
Mara caught her reflection in a gilt-framed mirror hanging on the wall. Golden beams were rising out of her head amongst the crow feathers. Light bloomed to life in the center of her chest like a star.
My special miracle…
Mara looked down at her feet and the black and gold feathers she was leaving in her wake.
"You warned me, but I never imagined this," she said, a little self-consciously. She had spent her entire life hiding the fact she was a saint, and now she was outright flaunting it.
"Don't let it worry you. There are far more disturbing creatures here tonight than a pretty and mysterious saint," Augustus said, lifting her hand to press a kiss to her fingertips.
The brush of his warm lips and stubble reminded her of the night she had stolen a kiss from him. Her mouth tingled with desire, and his eyes dropped to her lips like he could somehow read what she was thinking.
His expression heated, and he didn't try and hide it. For the first time, he let her see his desire for her and something trembled low in her stomach.
"Drink?" he asked.
"Yes, please," Mara replied, willing her tongue to work. Mara sat down on a velvet lounge in a dimly lit corner.
"I'll be right back. Do try and stay out of trouble, little saint," Augustus said and headed back into the crowd.
Mara noticed the heads that turned in his direction, the whispers that followed him. He looked devastating and didn't seem bothered by the attention if he noticed it at all.
Mara had seen many aspects of Augustus: drunk, charming, angry, playful, broken… She had never seen gentleman Augustus until that night and wasn't quite sure if she was going to survive it. Or if she wanted to.
"My goodness, I haven't seen one of your kind for an age," a smooth, deep voice said.
A tall creature came out of the shadows. It mainly looked like a man with long, straight black hair and shimmering golden-brown skin and eyes. He also had two twisting horns rising from the top of his head.
"And what kind would that be?" Mara asked, raising a brow.
The creature smiled. "A dark and holy saint. And a lovely looking one at that. Are you from Anea's line? The crow feathers suggest so."
"You knew Anea? But that's impossible. Her magic wiped her from memory," Mara argued.
"Maybe the memory of lesser creatures. I remember the crow saint from her time wandering in Ancient Syria. Hell of a woman, hell of a saint," the creature replied.
"Do you know what really happened to her? I only know stories."
