Page 10 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 1

“Let me help,” I blurted out, though I hadn’t entirely meant to say it. “I can feel out dark magic with a lot more nuance than this gadget.”

Evangeline studied me. “Why?” she said. “Why do you want to help me?”

I tried to come up with a reason that didn’t involve the way she smelled or how much her gaze affected me. “This artifact,” I managed. “It holds power, yes? The vampires who have been going missing lately… If someone was trying to drain the dark magic from them, they’d need somewhere to store it.”

Her expression was unreadable. “I’ll think about it. But don’t hold your breath.”

5

EVANGELINE

My living room was covered with so many books and papers, it looked like a bomb had gone off in a library. Every single horizontal surface had been pressed into service, and a few of the vertical ones, too. The stupid dark magic detector Marcus had given me had been abandoned in a desk drawer, joining an assortment of random magical junk.

“I love that you’re leaning into the murder board aesthetic,” Isabella said, waving at a spot on the wall where I’d pinned up a bunch of scraps of paper. She’d gotten back to town earlier that day and had come over as soon as I asked for her help. Now, she was curled up in the window seat, and the neon lights of the laundromat across the street from my place cast a red glow over the side of her face.

Isabella was easily my coolest friend. Although, to be fair, she didn’t have a lot of competition. I had a lot of acquaintances but not many close friends. Even if I’d had dozens of them, I was pretty sure Isabella would have still come out on top. She was tall, lean, and emphasized her height even more with thick-soled combat boots. She dressed almost exclusively in black, which made her stark white afro pop even more against her dark skin. With her usual silver jewelry and matching eyeliner, she was ethereal and intimidating.

Right now, she was wearing pajama bottoms emblazoned with smiling cartoon bats, and a tank top with a dancing skeleton across the chest. She’d washed off her makeup, and her hair was in a protective silk wrap she’d enchanted to touch up her roots as she slept.

“It’s not a murder board,” I said defensively. “If it was a murder board, I’d be connecting stuff with string.”

“Oh, of course,” Isabella said. “How silly of me.”

“Rookie mistake,” I agreed, shaking my head in mock-disappointment.

There was a gentle “mrrrp?” from the corner, where my familiar was curled up in a large plant pot.

Isabella raised her eyebrows. “It sounds like the special little man is awake.”

I patted the sofa next to me. “C’mere, buddy,” I called.

Pothos’s little head peeked up from the inside of the plant pot, and he hopped down, shaking soil out of his fur. Pothos was… probably a cat. He looked like a cat, anyway, although his fur was green with a few white spots, and he tended to grow flowers in his sleep. He acted like a cat. Well, he acted like an orange cat, which was like a regular cat but with about thirty percent fewer brain cells.

He’d followed me home from the Garden District one day, and when I tried to leave him outside, he’d managed to make his way up to the fire escape and squish his little face against the window. I’d taken the hint.

Pothos hopped up onto the sofa next to me and slammed his dense little body against my thigh. With that exhausting work completed, he immediately went back to sleep.

“Your contributions are incredibly helpful,” I told him, scratching him between the ears. “You’re a valued member of this team.”

“Sooo,” Isabella drawled. “Tell me more about this hot vampire you keep running into.”

“I never said he was hot,” I protested.

“Well, is he?”

“That’s… not relevant,” I said.

Isabella laughed. “I’m just saying, arrogant drama queens have always kind of been your type.”

“That’s true, but it’s still rude of you to point it out like that,” I said. “Besides, he’s a De Montclair. Even if I was into him, and that’s a pretty big if, I wouldn’t want to get caught up in vampire family politics. Everyone knows that entire clan has a lot to say about bloodline purity.”

“I’m not saying you should marry him,” Isabella said. “I’m just saying you could use a bit of fun. Stress relief.”

“I’m fine,” I told her. “Now, are you going to help with research, or are you going to bother me about my sex life?”

“What sex life?” Isabella grumbled under her breath, but she grabbed a book and started leafing through it.

By the time we finally found something, we’d ordered and devoured a pizza, and Pothos had woken from his nap, charged around the apartment frantically, then taken another nap.

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