Page 91 of Heir of Ashes

By the time we reached New York, night was in full swing in the city that never sleeps. Roland dropped Vincent and me off at the Plaza Hotel, where he’d reserved two connecting rooms for the night. He would return in the morning to take us to the base so I could sign my contract and officially become a Hunter.

Looking down at Central Park at night, I dialed Logan’s number from memory, telling myself I just wanted to confirm Roland hadn’t lied to me.

The line rang twice. “Yeah?” a familiar voice answered. It wasn’t the one I was expecting to hear.

“Rafael? It’s Roxanne. Where’s Logan?”

“He went out,” he replied, his tone cool.

“I see,” I said, telling myself that the pang of disappointment I felt was actually irritation that Rafael wasn’t bubbling with gratitude for my timely intervention. “You guys … made it out all right?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

“Okay,” I said, forcing myself to loosen the tight grip I had on the phone. “That’s good. I just wanted to make sure Logan was fine.”

He grunted. “I’ll tell him you called,” he said and disconnected.

I frowned down at the phone, then considered knocking on Vincent’s door, demanding all the answers I needed—and was due—but I knew there were personal questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. But someone else could, and I contemplated how to lose my escort.

Bracing a hand on the window, I watched the silent activity of the busy night in the city that would become my home for the next decade—and began to plan. The night was alive withactivity, skyscrapers glowing and dominating the sky, blotting out any trace of stars or clouds. The streets were choked with vehicles, and despite the late hour, the sidewalks were filled with people, seemingly undeterred by the chill in the air.

A man jogged into the park, an enormous white dog running beside him.

Maybe I should get a pet.A cat, since they weren’t as dependent as dogs. The jogger and the dog disappeared into the park, and I let the idea take root inside me. A cat. A white one, I decided, chuckling as the memory of the Low Lands and the name I’d given the little winged creatures surfaced.

“Frizz,” I murmured. “I’d name him Frizz.” No sooner had the name left my lips than the air beside me began to shimmer—like heat waves on hot asphalt, until it solidified into a small figure. I gasped, dropping the phone and jumping back. The air around me became charged with ozone and ear-popping pressure, and I found myself staring down at a creature no larger than a toddler.

“Massster. You sssummoned,” the creature hissed.

“Frizz. Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

The connecting door opened and Vincent poked his head into my room. “I heard a noise,” he said. “Everything okay?”

I looked between Vincent and Frizz, realizing that he wasn’t a bit surprised or concerned by the creature crouched just feet away.

“He’s the shadow!” I accused indignantly. “You were talking about Frizz!”

Vincent raised his eyebrows high on his forehead, causing them to almost disappear beneath his hairline. “Whatever made you name a shadow?”

“He didn’t have one,” I replied simply.

The amused look in his eyes made my back stiffen.

I looked back at Frizz and frowned. Dozens of random questions danced in my head all at once. What would Vincent think if I told him I had named eleven other creatures after cartoon characters? Had I just stepped on him? Thank God he couldn’t attack someone he was bound to.

“I heard a yelp.” Vincent asked again, breaking into my dizzying thoughts.

“I stepped on his tail,” I said and watched his eyes for any signs of alarm.

There were none. He grunted and returned to his room, leaving me alone with Frizz.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Massster,” Frizz hissed.

Master?I stared at him. Had he called me master before in the Low Lands? I was pretty sure he hadn’t. I shook my head. “I freed you from your duties to me. Why did you follow? And I thought you couldn’t travel between worlds.”

“I bound to you. I give you loyalty. Massster.”

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