Page 7

My voice is steadier than I feel, which is a damn good sign. “I can’t do the spell. I used too much magic earlier.”

Lucas releases me to approach Vincentius. “I’ll preserve the body in a sphere and stash it in the basement. You’ll need to shift the store to the mortal front to hide the blood.”

His threads begin wrapping around the remains like a cocoon. “At least they still think Aster Rosemont is real. If this whole thing isn’t a setup, then they’re probably here because they think ‘Aster’ is harboring the Archweaver’s runaway daughter after the bounty hunters chased us through the streets.”

I nod numbly in agreement. It’s a good plan, but there’s just one problem. I couldn’t get the store to shift when I was coming downstairs.

Now here we are. Fucked.

I at least need to try, and when it fails, we’ll come up with a new plan. With a harsh breath, I shake out my hands and say firmly, “Wish me luck.”

I sink my sore fingers deep into the magical web that thrums through my store. My fingers shake as I clutch the power. My bones ache and I grit my teeth. I prepare for the same resistance as before when it felt as if the cogs of the magic were rusted over. I turn my hands as if turning a crank.

The store shifts like the moon arcing over the night sky for the sun to rise in all its magnificent glory. The dead crystals sink into the walls and the gas lamps flare to life. The dark shadows are chased away, and my eyes sting from the sudden brightness. The grimoires slip into their pocket and the non-sentient, bound-paper stock thump into their spaces.

My lips part, and I don’t release my hold on the magic. I twist the other way, and the store shifts back, darkness swallowing the space. Again, I turn, and the bright, warm gas lamps fill the shop with a cheery light.

“What are you doing?”

I jump, releasing my hold on the magic. “What?”

Lucas stares at me with the body hovering beside him in a sphere. “Why are you switching it back and forth like that?”

That’s an excellent question, one whose answer gets stuck in my throat. My jaw aches, and I release my clenching as I search for an answer. “It… I…”

Why couldn’t the shop change earlier? Or maybe I’m remembering wrong. I look down at the blood and blisters on my hand. Perhaps it could always change, and it was me who was the problem.

My hands begin to tremble, and I shake them out. “It should’ve changed when the Magistrate’s officers began their summons. I was testing it to make sure nothing was wrong with the mechanics of the spell.”

Lucas nods, and I turn my back to him so he can’t see my raw expression. I wish he’d sense my half answer. I wish he’d push and ask questions. I’d even take an argument if it would give me answers. But instead, his boots thud in a retreating rhythm until the silk curtains rustle.

My world is crumbling around me. I can only hope that Lucas has enough sense to survive the fallout. He deserves better than to fall with me.

I can’t think of that now. Another hammering on the door rattles my skull as the Magistrate’s sigil bears down on me with a crushing pressure. I grip the sides of my head and snarl, “For the love of the nonexistent arachnid gods, give me a fucking minute!”

I’m sure the Magistrate officers can hear me now that the store has shifted, but they clearly don’t give a damn. The pressure in my skull doubles from their added force, and I nearly collapse.

Jinx trots out of the back room in her usual small, fluffy black cat form. Her blue eyes narrow in suffocating disappointment.

“Where were you? I needed you earlier and you didn’t appear. There was an intruder!” When she doesn’t respond, I try again more desperately. “There was a man, Jinx! He’s been watching me, and I was chasing him through the store. Did you not hear me?”

Jinx jumps and lands elegantly across my shoulders in her standard drape. The anchoring effect of my familiar in such a position is instantaneous. My heart steadies and my Soul Threads sing. I lean my head against my familiar’s fluffy one and sigh. “You have no idea how much I needed that. It’s been a hell of a night, Jinx.”

Jinx’s irritated voice fills my mind through our connection. It’s not over. We’ll discuss this later. You need to focus, Tori, or you’ll have an even worse night than you’re currently having. Now, throw on an illusion and answer the door before your brain explodes from the unanswered summons. We have enough mess to clean up without adding gray matter to it.

With a steadying breath, I straighten. My stained robe disappears behind dark slacks and a crisp emerald shirt. A silk vest tightens around my ribs and my shoulders relax with comforting constriction. My long, tangled copper hair shifts to brown and sweeps up into a trimmed, masculine cut that emphasizes the heart shape of my face. My green eyes darken to a hazel.

Aster Rosemont, the reclusive owner of Peripetia Bookshop, stands where my previously disheveled and panicked self once was. I release my breath in a long exhale, my lips tilting in a small smile. Finally, a sense of control seeps into me. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend it’s a normal day at the shop.

With steady hands, I descend the three steps to my front door. The lock clicks free and I tug open the door. “I apologize for—” But my words are swallowed by a howling wind blasting in through the doorway, bringing a torrential downpour of rain with it, and nearly toppling me over. I snatch at the frame of my door, my blisters stinging, and widen my stance. Jinx’s claws sink into my shirt to prick my skin, and she tightens to be more scarf than cat to stay on. Holy nonexistent arachnid gods, it’s freezing. What the hell happened to summer?

I squint up at the sky. A crackle of nearly imperceptible static dances along the clouds, too thin to be lightning. When Lucas, Valen, and I fled the Archweaver’s estate, Vincentius Bauer the Third was leading an uprising against my Archweaver father. The clashing weaver magic within the Astrum Forest from their fighting must be building within the atmosphere and rolling off the mountains to pool down here in the bay.

If I wasn’t dealing with enough shit on my plate, I’d step out onto the streets to investigate further. But trouble is at my door.

My magic thrums and a shield ripples into existence. Not too strong so I don’t spook the Magistrate officers, but just enough so I can stand upright with dignity in the ferocious weather. I straighten my vest, the rain evaporating from me, before turning my attention to the humans who have added to my shitty night.

The two surly officers stand before me with coat collars pulled high to block the chill. The various pendants secured to the wool glow in the darkness and keep the storm at bay. The one on the right is human. Middle-aged, with a sharp, keen gaze that his warm, mustached smile doesn’t quite dull. The other is an Amur Guild magician. I try my best not to sneer at her. She has a few inches on me and is reed-thin even with the layers of coats. Her glaring gray eyes are so cold, they almost remind me of Valen.