The Ravenous Dark, page 19
Bailey almost tripped over her feet at his utterance, but the bear shifter paid no mind. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he swung his gaze back forward and continued to plow through the crowd as if the interaction never happened.
She followed stiffly, feeling confused, and a touch dazed at his odd behavior. The urge to dissect his sudden shift in attitude was strong, but Bailey batted it away and kept her cool. It was only a dominance game, and one that the Wildings were all fond of playing to assert their rank with others. Unnerve someone, get them to flinch or bend to your will. She didn’t need to waste her time on overthinking it.
At least, that’s what she managed to convince herself.
A few moments later, Franklin was in their sights. She sat at a high top table near the wall where foot traffic was lighter and more casual conversations were taking place.
Franklin caught sight of them, and held up a finger, slowing their approach. She was with two women in sapphire robes, cut to show off their slim figures. Franklin looked pleased by the time they left and waved Q and Bailey over.
"Run into any trouble, Q?"
He shrugged. "Nothing we couldn't handle." Franklin smirked and turned her attention to Bailey.
"I can't believe you came. Who knew the resident she-wolf could let loose once in a while? Take a seat. Have a drink."
She politely waved away the drink she was offered and took the seat opposite Franklin. The owl shifter cocked her head in return. "You mentioned there might be some work to pick up—"
Franklin groaned. "Damn, do you ever stop? Or are you just trying to make me look bad?"
Bailey chuckled, but it was forced, and there was no hiding it. "I couldn't sleep and thought it wouldn't hurt to snag some extra cash too."
Franklin downed the rest of her drink and set the empty glass on the table softly. "Q, grab me another vodka soda. Take your time."
Bailey fought to stay relaxed as Franklin let the silence stretch between them. When Q was far enough into the crowd, she addressed Bailey.
"Heard you had a run-in with Astrid after our exchange earlier—no, don't worry about it. I smoothed things over for you. She won't give you any more trouble, at least not too much more trouble, if she knows what's good for her."
Bailey's mouth dropped open. "Wait, seriously? How? Why—"
"Are you kidding?" At Bailey's persisting expression of disbelief, she chuckled softly and shook her head. "I was only half kidding when I said you were going to make me look bad. You hustle hard. I know some of the others might stick up their nose at your work, but I appreciate it. You make us look good, and I appreciate it."
"Oh." A blush coated Bailey's cheek at the compliment. "Thanks."
"Thank you," Franklin countered. "Since you came along, we've nearly doubled our profit. When we first talked, I said there would be opportunities for some better jobs. You down? And before you get your panties in a twist, it's a courier job. No intimidation or muscles warranted unless you're feeling feisty."
Bailey perked up in her seat. "Yeah. What's the gig?"
Franklin reached inside her pocket and withdrew a small, folded note from a concealed pocket. "There's a bit of legwork involved. A special order came in." She waved the note in her hand. "It needs to be delivered ASAP. Get it delivered before dawn, and you'll get paid—in full."
Bailey raised both eyebrows. "You're not going to take a cut?"
"Take it as a token of my appreciation, and a bribe of sorts." Bailey's brow furrowed, and Franklin smiled widely in reply. "Oh, I have big plans for you, Bailey Hart. Just wait and see. There's more room at the top than you think. If you keep up the good work, you can bet your ass you'll be reaping more rewards like the one you'll get tonight."
Bailey took the sealed note from Franklin, mirroring her smile with a good-natured shake of her head. Anticipation and excitement coursed through her. It was nice to be appreciated, and her hard work acknowledged. It was even better to be paid for it.
"Who do I need to get this to?"
"Courtier by the name of Kat. She's got a set of rooms down here with the rest of the demon courtiers. Third hall on the left; last door on the left. Knock two times. Got it?"
"Got it."
Bailey made her way back toward the grand staircase. Opposite them was a set of gargantuan doors that led to a large wing dedicated to courtier housing. The space was sorcerer designed and housed—well, Bailey wasn't sure how many. More than conceivable, but that was magic for you. It defied all expectations.
The doors were partially open, and Bailey entered the space with a measure of caution. She'd never ventured to this part of the court. She'd never had to.
Bailey was surprised at the lengthy, extra wide hall that greeted her. It reminded her of the grand promenade, just a little more inviting. Jewel-toned settees and armchairs lined the middle of the hall. They were a stark contrast to the black marble floor and pearly white walls. Bailey ran her eyes down the hall. Four hallways cut off from the main lane in each direction. She made a beeline for the third on the left.
Bailey's confident gait faltered when her wolf abruptly growled in her head. She stopped and stared suspiciously ahead. She was at the mouth of the third hallway, but nearby magic spiked the air not far up ahead. Bailey frowned as it nipped at her skin in greeting. She rubbed her arm to calm the rise of hairs and made her way down the hall.
Bailey knocked twice at the last door on the left and waited. And waited.
And—
"Yes?" A silky voice purred as a head with long dark hair peeked out the door. Someone was crying from behind the door, their hiccupping sobs rubbing Bailey the wrong way. "How may I be of service?"
Tension coiled in her stomach as irritation prickled her nerves. Wrath demoness, her mind supplied. "Are you Kat?"
She licked her bottom lip. "Mmhm, and you are?"
"The messenger." Bailey held out the note to the demoness. She took it with a pout, splitting it open with a nail too long to be sensible, and quickly read its contents. Kat groaned.
"Hold on one second." Kat slammed the door in Bailey's face.
Fresh irritation lit inside Bailey. She stepped back, muttering to herself in annoyance, and shoved her hands in her back pockets. A minute later, the door opened wide.
"Hold this." Kat held out a small vial out and directed Bailey to hold it beneath her wrist. Once satisfied, she reached behind her and procured a knife.
Bailey tensed, but the demoness made no note of it. She was too focused on slicing open the delicate skin of her wrist. The stream of blood that followed was a rich red and poured into the vial with ease.
"Find Ross and give this to him. He's a new member of the Circe clan."
She moved her wrist away from the vial's mouth when it filled to the top and passed Bailey its corked lid.
"Is that all? Or were you looking for a tumble?" Kat purred, igniting the vestiges of anger in Bailey once more.
"I'll pass," she said, busying herself with corking the vial.
"Too bad." Kat shrugged, then wiggled her fingers and slammed the door in Bailey's face once more. The she-wolf huffed and flipped the door, and the demoness behind it, her middle finger. Pocketing the warm vial, she hustled to the Circe clan's suites tucked away on the fifth floor to find Ross.
Bailey made her way back to the Styx from the courtier wing with little distraction, but as she stepped back into the bustling hall turned gambling hell, she was assaulted.
“Oomph!”
Bright laughter accosted her next as the arms around her waist unraveled to reveal Nia. Bailey scowled at her over-the-top enjoyment and waft of alcohol from her breath.
“Well, if it isn’t our resident she-wolf, finally gracing us with her presence.” Nia paused and burped behind a closed fist before smiling brilliantly at Bailey. “Arh-wo—"
Bailey slapped a hand over her mouth. “Finish that howl, and I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Nia’s lips curved upward behind Bailey’s hand. Her muffled response earning an eyeroll from Bailey.
“What did you say?” Bailey asked, removing her hand.
“That’s the Wilding spirit!” Nia repeated with enthusiasm. “Now, if only you’d stop trying to talk things out or warn people first, and simply deferred to violence as the answer, we could really shake up this place.” Dark amusement sparkled in her eyes as she patted Bailey’s arm reassuringly. “We’ll make you wild, yet.”
Bailey chortled and shook her head, even as a tingling of trepidation ghosted over her nape, raising the fine hair there. She cast a surreptitious glance over the bustling crowd, but no one paid them any mind. Bailey returned her attention to Nia, finding the serval shifter staring at her intently.
“Want to play a game?” Nia asked with deceptive lightness.
Bailey offered a tight smile in return. “Nah, I’m on the clock.”
Nia frowned and half-jerked back. “You’re working? It’s the full moon, Bailey.” Nia’s gaze dropped to her hands, but seeing no obvious package looked back to her askance.
“I don’t mind the work; besides, the delivery is—hey! Knock it off, Nia.” Bailey dodged the serval’s hands as they swung for her pockets in search of the item she carried.
“Aw, come on. Sharing’s caring, Bailey,” she sing-songed. Nia’s efforts tired quickly after a well-placed smack to the side of her head. She panted lightly as she skirted out of reach, an off-kilter quality to her glazed eyes.
Bailey scowled as Nia began to chuckle. A lazy smile some might consider cruel, played across her lips. “Alright, alright.” Nia continued to back away. “I can take a hint. Money. Friends.” Her hands demonstrated how she thought Bailey prioritized them: money over friends.
“That’s not—”
But she was gone before Bailey could make her case, her taunting smile lifting higher before sticking out her tongue at Bailey and vanishing into the crowd. Bailey’s shoulders sagged. She’d make time to hang with Nia later, hopefully when the serval shifter wasn’t drunk and acting so… out of it. But for now, she had a job to do, and she wasn't going to let Franklin down.
Bailey kept her head down and her feet moving as she ascended the staircase, not wanting to garner any more attention. For the most part, she was ignored. Though Bailey felt the gaze of one or two vampyrés on her person as she passed. The consideration put her on edge.
Halfway down the floor’s main hall, she slipped sideways to allow a group of bickering sorcerers to clamber past that took up the width of the hall. They were dressed festively with stars and moons painted on their faces and dressed in tunics and slip dresses of ruby silk and satin. Their staffs and wands indicated their supernatural class rather than their traditional robes.
“Ogun clan, fire mages with an affinity for iron,” Bailey muttered to herself in recognition, pausing to watch them go. “And not who I need to find.”
Bailey leaned back against the nearest wall and closed her eyes momentarily to map out the floor in her mind’s eye.
“Left at the creepy milkmaid portrait, fifth door on the right.” With a sigh, she opened her eyes and continued her search, feet dragging.
The portrait was farther down the hall than she remembered, and as often happened while ferrying packages or messages, she slowed to study the court’s featured art. There was a distinct difference between the upper floor’s preference to those below.
The upper floors boasted large-scale realism and impressionist pieces, while the lower floors featured portraits and paintings that could only be described as… unnerving and slightly disturbed. If not downright pornographic at times.
She stopped as she reached the milkmaid portrait. The plump blonde was painted mid-flight; her expression luridly woeful as she fled the clutches of the goat-faced devil which chased her.
Bailey averted her gaze and rounded the corner with wary alertness. The Circe clan’s apartment was tucked deep into the fifth subfloor floor. It was another place she didn’t venture often, though odd jobs brought her there enough for the layout to be vaguely familiar.
The hall was nearly empty, save two cloaked figures far up ahead. Bailey eyed the color of their robes. One, thankfully, wore the Circe clan’s signature sapphire. The other donned a cloak cast in the same shade of the Bartlett pear she snacked on the other night. It was more yellow than green in coloring and muted by the shadows the pair stood in.
Bailey narrowed her eyes on them as she neared. “Hey,” she called out casually. The two turned to her with matching frowns. Bailey didn’t recognize either. “You Ross, by any chance? Or know where I can find him. He’s new to your clan,” she said to the one in blue.
The Circe clan sorcerer’s frown wavered before he turned back to the other man. He pushed into his hands a wand, a thick book, and a curiously shaped wooden object that reminded Bailey of the sun.
“I’m Ross,” the man in sapphire said and stepped forward, blocking the other man from view as he made a swift exit. “What do you want?”
Bailey cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’ve got a special delivery for you.” Bailey produced the vial and watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened and pink colored his cheeks. He reached for the vial, but Bailey was faster and moved it out of his reach. “Who was that?” she jerked her head in the direction the other sorcerer went.
“Nobody of consequence,” Ross said with a snobbish tilt of his nose. “But all the same….” Bailey stiffened as he reached into his robes and relaxed when he produced a slim roll of cash. He extended it to Bailey with a begrudging sigh. “I would prefer if this delivery, in its entirety, was forgotten.”
Bailey swiftly traded the blood for the cash. It was hardly the first time she’d accepted money for silence or discretion for services rendered. “Consider it done.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth, then the sorcerer turned heel, and all but ran down the hall. Bailey cocked her head at the sight. His reaction was a first, and yet, not the strangest she’d encountered. Pocketing the hush money, she made her way back to the Vrana’s suite on tired feet, unaware of the Wildings who watched discreetly over her last delivery.
XII
"A crystal ball? Really?"
Valdora smirked as she finished setting up the small table. Her hands flattened the rich purple velvet cloth laid across it. "Crystal balls aren't exclusive to witches and seers."
Ronan grunted and continued to watch her construction. They were in the privacy of his office, which had been warded and soundproofed, thanks to the sorceress. Ronan's jaw tightened minutely as Valdora laid out a litany of items counterclockwise on the table: a piece of dark speckled nuummite; a sprig of hemlock; a chunk of labradorite; and—
"Are those…?" Ronan wrinkled his nose at the final object.
"Bat wings? Yes! They'll act as protection, and a fair bit of luck," she replied with genuine enthusiasm.
Restlessness crawled beneath his skin. Luck? "Got any more?" She shook her head kindly and seated herself behind the labradorite. Ronan remained standing.
To say he wasn't happy with the recent turn of events would be an understatement. Three nights ago, on the full moon, everything that could go wrong had.
Not only had his senses been so addled that he’d allowed Bailey to seal their soulmark, but the dread which consumed him all week had finally come to its tipping point. The mysterious dark magic plaguing the court took possession of him again. Ronan shuddered as he relived the moment. It had dragged him along to witness the demise of its next victim, Luka Krovopuskov, all the while tempting him to surrender with power and more.
Fate was cruel in placing Bailey there, yet kind enough to let her live through Luka's crazed attack.
And kind enough to not let her be possessed by the dark magic like me.
A thick mass clogged Ronan's throat as he struggled to swallow down his writhing emotions. His infection of dark magic might not have spread with their sealing, but she was in no less danger.
If he was caught….
If she was caught….
He cringed. He didn't want to know how she got rid of Luka’s body. It was barely a comfort to know that she had. Ronan’s hand clenched into a tight fist. He wasn’t ready to see her yet and confront the situation at hand regardless. It would be too much of a distraction, and his focus had to be on conquering, or, at the very least, exorcising the dark magic from his system.
Which was where Valdora came in. Reaching out to her was a last, but very necessary resort. He couldn’t solve this mess alone, and he needed a sorcerer’s help.
It was now clear no amount of practice with his new shadow magic could negate the nefarious magnetism of the dark magic haunting him. He needed outside help to combat it. As for Bailey… Ronan could only hope to keep her at arm's length long enough to solve his first problem and not go insane in the process.
Ronan eyed Valdora's hand, bandaged similarly to his own, for their blood oath. Their meeting, along with any future dealings, would be kept secret thanks to the binding magic, but it was of little comfort to Ronan. He didn't like having to resort to outside help, but there was no other option. He needed to find the guilty party practicing dark magic in the court and how to break their influence on him—yesterday.
"Sit, please."
Valdora gestured to the seat opposite her. As he sat, she made another motion with her hand, twisting her wrist and crooking her middle and index fingers. The lights of his office turned off, and the black candles placed in a circle around them burst to life.
"How is looking into a crystal ball going to help me?" Ronan scooted closer in his chair, surreptitiously eyeing the candles. They gave off more light than he was expecting.
"Crystal balls act as a lens of sorts. They see into the beyond with more clarity than other reflective objects, and are far safer than, say, a scrying bowl or mirror. We'll use this tonight, so I can better understand the magic inside of your Otherworld.
