Page 50 of Magic of the Damned

I hissed as he pulled away, my head moving forward with him. He cursed. “Sorry.” He mumbled more apologies, and we attempted to quietly untangle. “I should have asked you to move. I thought there was enough space,” he explained in a hushed voice, trying not to draw attention to us but eliciting another low hiss from me when he tugged too hard.

“No worries,” I said, but I could still feel the sting where several strands of hair were pulled from my head by the strange barbed bracelet around his wrist. It had scraped along my hand, scratching it when I tried to help with easing him away with minimal damage.

“Nice weapon,” I teased, looking at the scratch and specks of blood on my hand.

He looked at the injury, frowned, and then stared at the bracelet, a string of circles with small nubs on them that looked far less dangerous than they were.

“That’s enough of this thing,” he grumbled. “It was a fashion mistake I won’t make again. Here I was trying to do something a little different. Add a little pizzazz to my style.” He attempted to add humor to his voice, but it was heavy with concern.

Pizzazz? Come on, Peter, do better.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” I told him, “but I’d retire that thing.”

Nodding in agreement, he removed it from his wrist and shoved it in his pocket. He hesitated, looking coy as he gave a side-eye to the book he had been reaching for.

“I need to go clean this,” I said, waving my wounded hand. Leaning in closer, I whispered, “Who doesn’t love a good second-chance romance? Enjoy.”

Emboldened, he stood taller, picked up that book and two more from the shelf, and headed for the register. I made my way to the employee lounge. The scratch didn’t warrant a bandage, but I definitely wanted to clean it and apply some antibiotic ointment.

The combination of pleasant weather, music, the illusion of watching a potential romantic will they won’t they moment, and decent wine at a reduced price made for a busy sales day.

“Luna,” said an unfamiliar voice. A woman had moved in next to me. During a brief break in the stream of customers, I’d used the time to replace books in the coffee shop that had sold in a matter of minutes after the performance ended. I hadn’t noticed the woman’s approach.

The Asian woman’s face brightened when I turned to face her and attempted to place her since she’d addressed me with such familiarity. I couldn’t. Midnight hair pulled back from her face and crescent-shape eyes that held the same spark Madeline’s had. The spark of astute wisdom, but it was beyond the years of the twenty-something-year-old woman in front of me.

“Yes?” I asked.

Flashing me a marking of a broken circle, three vertical lines with the ends curving in three different directions on the inner side of her wrist, she leaned into me. “Thank you. It’s only a matter of time.”

I debated whether to reveal that I had no idea what she was talking about or pretend that I did. Which would yield more information?

“Matter of time?”

“Luna, you released the only people who have a chance against the Conventicle. Get rid of them, and we will be relieved of our restraints. We’ll become the power brokers no longer restricted by their rules and mandates.” She shook her head. “Why should we live in fear of being discovered by humans? They should know of our existence and…” She trailed off.

I guessed she was going to say something along the lines of “bow down to our power,” “quiver in fear of our greatness,” or “revere us like gods.” Whether she said it or not, the portentous intentions were there in the set of her jaw, the chilliness of her eyes, and the raw malice of her words.

“I didn’t do it intentionally,” I blurted, not wanting to stake a claim on the hot mess, even if she did view it favorably.

Based on the reverent way she looked at me, it didn’t matter. I was the initiator. A means to the end of restrictions. Did she not see the hypocrisy in venerating a human, whom she hoped to subjugate with her power and magical ability? Frustrated, I was about to point that out when she took hold of my arm—based on her expression, more aggressively than intended. She relaxed the pressure and I put a little distance between us.

Quickly I scanned the café for Anand, expecting him to show up. Wasn’t this the reason he shadowed me, to prevent situations like this? Or perhaps she’d used magic to elude him. Not being completely sure how things worked in this world just complicated things.

“You can’t align yourself with Dominic,” she told me in a rough whisper. “He’s using you to recapture the prisoners.” She searched my face for some form of feedback. “We can’t let that happen. Change is necessary.” She took a step toward me and I moved back again, keeping distance between us, leery of the desperation on her face.

“I want the same thing as he does,” I told her. She wouldn’t get false hope from me or the idea that I was an ally.

“No, you don’t,” she snapped, closing the distance between us again and taking a firm hold on my arm.

“Look…” I waited for her to give me a name.

“Rei.”

“I know this is a cause you believe in, but can you truly expect me as a human to get involved? I just want my life back.”

Desperation and determination overtook her features. Her unyielding eyes held mine.

“You are being foolish and naïve,” she chastised.

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