The Poisoned Veil (Accessory to Magic Book 4) Read online

  Christ, she hoped it was over.

  ‘How about hoping it went the way he wanted it to?’ the bank offered.

  Sure. That came in at a close second. Assuming, of course, that what Leandras wanted aligned with what he’d told her this spell would do.

  She looked up at him with wide eyes, studying his uncertainty.

  Finally, the fae man lowered his hands to the surface of the desk, propping himself up as he dropped his head between his shoulders and let out a massive sigh.

  “You know, that looks a lot like relief, but I could be wrong.” Jessica glanced around the lobby, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the whole thing.

  Leandras didn’t say a word, his chest and back heaving as he closed his eyes.

  He stayed like that for what felt like an incredibly long time.

  Jessica busied herself with shoving Tabitha’s ritual knife back into the drawer and closing it again, though for some reason she felt the need to be extra gentle and quiet about it. The fae man didn’t stir even at the sound, so she cleared her throat and turned partially toward the back hall. “Okay. Well...you obviously need some time. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Come here.” He didn’t lift his head or open his eyes.

  Oh, so now he thought he could boss her around in her own bank?

  ‘Want me to zap him?’

  Not yet.

  “I’m gonna give you a minute—”

  Leandras whipped his head up to meet her gaze and crooked a beckoning finger at her. “We do this first.”

  She leaned away from him, though there was still an entire desk and a bowl of blood-sucking potion still between them. “Do what?”

  “This window of time is already small and closing fast. You acted with just enough clarity and efficiency. Still, I need to be certain.”

  Swallowing, she slowly rounded the desk to approach him, sneaking a sidelong glance at the glass bowl of innocuous clear liquid.

  Not innocuous. Just dormant. She hoped.

  Finally, he removed his hands from the desk, straightened to turn toward her, and held out his hand. “Let me see.”

  “What?”

  “Your hand.”

  “Oh.” A weak chuckle escaped her. “It’s fine. Vestrohím, remember? Compared to a few other knives in a few way more vital places, that was—”

  “Jessica.” The way he stared at her hand by her side, like he’d just caught her stealing something from him and she’d refused to admit to it—made her slowly lift her hand.

  “Seriously. I’m fine.”

  “You may be healed.” Leandras took her hand and cradled it in his own, turning it over to trail one slender finger along the center of her palm. “But knowing you, there’s almost certainly something else happening beneath the surface.”

  His touch sent a tickling flare through her hand and up her arm. Tickling and warm. Jessica could only study his face as he drew his finger across her palm in indiscernible patterns before doing the same on the back of her hand.

  “If you’re talking about what happened after Confucius...did whatever he did to help me out a few weeks ago, that’s all been taken care of.”

  “Has it?” The fae looked up at her again, even more urgency behind his eyes now than when he’d shouted at her to cut herself wide open.

  Or maybe it just felt that way because his focus was entirely on her now.

  Jessica bit her lip and shrugged. “Yeah. It has.”

  He stared at her, his eyes narrowing as he cradled her hand between both of his and searched her gaze. “My apologies for forcing such drastic measures on you just now.”

  “You’re...”

  “I’m sorry, Jessica. Yes.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then released her to run his fingers through his disheveled brown hair. The concerned frown still lingered on the fae’s brow, but taking a deep breath seemed to settle him back into his usually infuriating composure. “I miscalculated the strength of what we’re dealing with. It won’t happen again.”

  “Oh.”

  Oh? That was it?

  Well, yeah. It wasn’t like she’d had the chance to get used to this kind of sincerity from him. Or apologies.

  She brushed her own hair back over her shoulder and stepped away. “So tell me what we’re dealing with.”

  To her complete surprise, Leandras raised his eyebrows and nodded. “The forces in Xahar’áhsh have grown stronger than I anticipated.”

  “The Dalu’Rázj?”

  “Among others, yes.” He glanced at the clear potion. “That spell was meant to be a simple procedure. Like opening a window, if you will.”

  The small smile he gave her made it impossible not to return.

  “Too big of a window?”

  “More like opening the floodgates, actually. The first stage of this spell forms a connection point between both worlds. That’s all it was intended to be. I did not expect the Gateway to be waiting so diligently for the opportunity.” Leandras took another deep breath. “We nearly opened a new portal of our own, in a manner of speaking. Without the proper anchoring here and protection for ourselves, the consequences would have been...”

  He scowled and turned slightly away from her.

  Holy shit. The slippery fae man who’d burst into her life sowing nothing but chaos hadn’t shown anything but calm apathy, barely concealed amusement, anger, urgency, and a moment of weirdly tender appreciation after their final battle in the warehouse yesterday. But this was the first time Jessica had seen him in this state.

  Leandras was actually embarrassed.

  ‘Okay, witch. This is the part where you sweep him up in your arms and give him a hell of a distraction. And a good time.’

  Don’t even go there.

  Jessica cleared her throat again. “Well, we did it, right?”

  “Yes.” Leandras closed his eyes again. “We did it. The rest of the spell I can handle on my own. It may take some time, so feel free to tend to any other business you may have here. We move forward as planned.”

  As planned.

  Like he’d told her everything there was to know about the plan or what they faced once they stepped through the Gateway.

  Maybe he didn’t actually know the full extent of his own plan, either. Especially not after their allegedly “simple procedure” had almost gone completely sideways.

  “Sure. Okay.” She turned away from him with a frown and slowly headed around the desk again toward the back hall. “Do you need anything? Water? A chair...maybe?”

  “I’ll be fine, Jessica. Thank you.”

  “Right. Just...yell if you need me, I guess.” She crossed the lobby toward the hall and stopped halfway there when the question she’d meant to ask returned to her. “Why my blood?”

  “I’m sorry?” He looked up at her with a glazed expression, as if the whole ordeal had just zapped every ounce of strength and focus he had left. Of course, it could’ve been the overwhelming exhaustion that came with humiliating mistakes.

  Jessica had had more than her fair share of those to understand the aftershock.

  “Why did we need my blood to... I don’t know. Bash the potion back into submission? I mean, I get that you were busy channeling the energy or whatever. Chanting. But I could’ve taken over for you on that one. Again, vestrohím.”

  The tiny smile on the fae’s lips held none of his usual amusement. No, that was still regret, embarrassment, and something else that made Jessica momentarily unsure what to do with her hands until she folded her arms.

  It looked a lot like admiration, and she had no idea what to do with that.

  “A vestrohím channeling the force behind that incantation, as you did the other day, is a boon most would kill to have in their corner. Under different circumstances, I most likely would have done exactly what you just suggested.” Leandras licked his lips, betraying his new anxiety. “But you are the Guardian. Your blood. Your life. Your magic. From now on, the Gateway responds to nothing else. I’d hoped...”
/>
  She waited for him to continue, but the fae merely shook his head and settled his gaze on the potion again.

  “It doesn’t matter. Now we know where I was wrong in my assumptions, and I intend to adjust our next steps accordingly.” He gave her a brief, self-conscious nod as he gestured toward the hallway. “I’ll let you know when it’s finished.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Jessica watched him for a moment longer, but the fae was now completely engrossed in cleaning up the leftover reagents off the desk and depositing them back into the appropriate boxes.

  Part of her wanted to tell him it did matter—that whatever he’d hoped but wouldn’t say still played a huge part in this. Because that was all they had to go on now, wasn’t it? The hope that they wouldn’t step through the Gateway only to walk into something neither one of them could escape.

  ‘Not to mention excruciating death, failure, and the destruction of two whole worlds and everyone in them.’

  Jessica blinked furiously and spun on her heel to head for the kitchen.

  You really suck at being supportive. How about you drop the failed pep-talks and stick to warnings and actual insight. When you have it.

  ‘Oh, sure. Here’s an insight. You’re a vestrohím Guardian, witch. The vestrohím Guardian. The first. The only. Probably the last.’

  “What?” She grabbed the glass she’d used for water out of the empty sink and filled it again under the tap.

  ‘Come on. You know how rare you are.’ The bank chuckled. ‘Perfect ying to my yang, am I right?’

  Rolling her eyes, Jessica chugged the water, gulp after gulp, and tried to ignore the reappearing image of Leandras’ candid concern and what had looked a hell of a lot like guilt. It made her think of her own, and that path never led to anything productive.

  ‘Okay, I kid around, Jessica. Sure.’

  She almost choked on the last swallow of water.

  ‘All I’m saying is you have more than hope behind you when you take that wily fae’s hand and chauffeur him through the Gateway.’

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  ‘Me, for one.’

  “Not in the other world, bank.” After her empty glass clinked down again in the sink, she turned around and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

  ‘No, but if we know anything after this giant shitstorm you brewed up when you kicked off the reckoning—’

  The hissing crackle of red sparks Jessica summoned in her hand echoed in the narrow kitchen, and she found it remarkably easy to imagine the bank might have a face there in the cabinets beside the fridge. “Wanna try that again?”

  ‘Okay, okay. Sorry. Jeeze.’ The bank cleared its throat. ‘We both know whatever happens on one side of the Gateway has an effect on the other side. Obviously. It’s happened more than once.’

  “And you’re just realizing this now?”

  ‘I mean, it’s not like I was built with an entire working knowledge of the past, present, future, and how it all plays out. You’re not exactly doing any part of your job by the book.’

  Not like there had been a book.

  Nothing Jessica had done since walking into Winthrop & Dirledge for an apprentice job had been natural, predictable, or an ounce over just barely manageable.

  ‘So you have me,’ the bank continued in a much softer tone. ‘That’s what I’m saying. As long as you’re still walking around on those skinny legs of yours, I’m still standing. Plus, maybe having Tabitha’s terrified godson here will help even things out.’

  “Don’t put that on Ben.”

  ‘I’m just saying.’

  With the kitchen and her mind now silent for the time being, Jessica considered rifling through the fridge for a snack. But she wasn’t even remotely hungry. Instead, she propped her hands up behind her on the edge of the countertop and listened.

  A light, very faint buzz came from the lobby. Leandras’ voice occasionally rolled over it, rising and falling again in volume and cadence.

  His part of the spell, huh? If her blood had literally saved them from unleashing Xahar’áhsh hell right there above the desk, why didn’t he need her now?

  The fae was up to something else. She could feel it.

  No way in hell would she let him undermine her with his own secrets before they jumped right into the next life-threatening bit of chaos.

  Not again.

  Chapter 11

  Jessica’s heart pounded in her chest. The more she thought about Leandras out there in front of that potion with her blood in it—unsupervised because his embarrassment had caught her off guard and she’d left him there on his own—the more it felt like she’d just made another stupid mistake. Maybe even one that couldn’t be fixed, even with her magic fully restored.

  ‘Whew.’ The bank chuckled. ‘Forget all the doom and gloom and the mushy junk, huh? We forgot the biggest thing you got goin’ for ya.’

  Yeah? What’s that?

  Jessica silently pushed herself away from the counter and headed toward the back hall again.

  ‘You. Your magic’s back. You’re...you again. If I were a betting bank, I’d bet everyone else’s stuff you’re practically unstoppable on the other side.’

  Assuming the other side is anything like this side.

  ‘Well yeah. But it has to be, right? I mean, with all the connections between...’

  Without even trying, Jessica was somehow able to tune out whatever else the bank said after that, with only half her attention on the conversation. The other half focused on stepping as quietly as possible down the hall toward the lobby—and on the sounds of intense magic coming from beyond.

  ‘There. How’s that for a pep-talk, huh? Not so failed now, is it? Jessica? Oh come on. You can’t ignore me. I’m literally in your head.’

  She paused three feet from the end of the hall when another wave of intense magical energy washed over her, as if it had been slowly spreading through the lobby this whole time and they’d just happened to meet each other in the middle right here.

  You feel that?

  The bank snorted. ‘Uh...no. You think powerful magic and mind-blowing intelligence like mine just automatically come with physical sensations? I mean, sure. I can feel pain. I think.’

  Just stop for a second.

  Jessica let herself stand there in the growing waves of power pulsing with a slow rhythm into the hall. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before and definitely unlike anything she expected Leandras to produce—calm, patient, almost docile. Like he was giving himself to some other source instead of trying to draw from it to fuel his own intentions.

  ‘Meh. It’s just a spell.’

  You sure about that?

  ‘Totally. Mostly.’ The bank sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

  She crept toward the edge of the hall, now far enough along to see a faint glimmer of pale purple light emanating from Leandras’ post at the desk. When she reached the edge of the wall, she pressed her back against it and leaned sideways just enough to poke her head around the corner.

  Leandras stood in front of the desk right where she’d left him. Only his posture had completely changed.

  One hand hovered an inch away from his chest, sheltering the silver glow rising from his palm as if he were casting the spell on himself. His other hand moved slowly through the air above the potion bowl, and everywhere his outstretched finger glided, a trailing glimmer of purple light appeared in its wake through the air.

  The symbols he drew wavered there above the bowl, then fragmented into streams of silver light before dropping down into the potion like more reagents. The potion itself was the source of the purple glow Jessica had seen from the hall, and with each new symbol falling into it, the potion’s light dimmed momentarily.

  The fae moved seamlessly from one symbol to the next, his voice rising above the buzz of his magic in a soft murmur. He didn’t look down at the bowl or double-check his slow, methodical drawings in the air.

  Maybe he couldn’t. Because Leandras stared straight ahead
at the bookshelf behind the desk, his eyes open and rendered completely unreadable by the bright silver lights they’d become.

  It was nothing like when he’d stayed in the old, cramped office, one foot already through death’s door with his blood turned to sludge and his eyes fully silver like liquid mercury. This was a light coming from inside him—from the magic he called on now to complete this spell.

  And it looked a hell of a lot like he wasn’t himself in there. Like maybe nobody was inside the fae’s body. Like maybe somebody had gotten in there instead and now used the Laen’aroth like a spellcasting puppet.

  Jessica didn’t care for it one bit.

  Her stomach clenched as she watched him in his trancelike casting.

  Who, exactly, was this fae man?

  He’d called himself the Laen’aroth when they’d sworn their biding together. Mickey had called him the very same thing right after Leandras had dished out an epic punishment against the Matahg and saved Jessica’s life. She’d heard the same name muttered between a handful of Laenmúr members in the warehouse when they completed the second stage of the reckoning. But no one had told her a thing about what that word meant or how intrinsically tied it was to Leandras.

  She didn’t know him at all.

  That and his infuriating habit of either lying to her or feeding her a grain of truth at a time from the cache of knowledge he kept locked up tight had kept Jessica from letting herself trust him too. From the very beginning, he’d been annoyingly tight-lipped, full of himself, entitled, and damn near impossible to reason with, not to mention his complete lack of boundaries when it came to personal space. Or trying to pry into Jessica’s personal life while he kept his own sealed behind that mask of amused superiority.

  Leandras was the spark that had lit this entire blaze of her unrecognizably chaotic life. He’d kicked off the reckoning with her by withdrawing that damn coin from the vault. He’d pulled not one but two different factions of dark-intentioned magicals into the bank to fight them for the ownership of that coin. He’d sent Jessica in her worst shape to steal his own magic out of his apartment, to take her friends with her into a trap so they could fight their way out again with his life-saving prize.