The two women entered. Miranda carried a bag to the table and emptied the contents onto the surface.
Grey sat at the table. While he inspected the small bottles, I went to stand at Eve’s side. “How are Mac and Seraphia?”
“Stable, still. They feel like shit, but they’re doing all right.”
I nodded, my heart thundering. We joined Grey and Miranda, and I poured us all coffee.
Miranda took it with a grateful nod. “We were able to get everything but the Powderwort and Devonian.”
“I didn’t have either,” Eve said, “and I don’t think you can find them in town.”
I took a big gulp of the coffee, not minding that it was hot. I needed something to get my head together. Everything was going off the rails.
“I know where to get the Devonian,” Grey said.
My gaze flicked to him. That was good. I turned to Eve. “That leaves the Powderwort. Any clues?”
“Yes, in fact. There’s a supplier in human London.”
“A supernatural, of course?” Miranda asked.
“Yes. An old friend.” Eve raised her brows at me. “Do you want to help me find it?”
I looked at Grey.
“Go with her.” His voice was firm, as if he didn’t want me to argue.
After what we’d learned last night, I didn’t particularly want to be parted from him. But it was reasonable. And smart. I wasn’t in love with him, for God’s sake. I cared for him—more deeply than I wanted to admit. But it would do neither of us any good to fall for the other.
“I’ll take care of the Devonian,” Grey said. “You get the Powderwort. With any luck, we can meet back here before midnight.”
“Well before midnight,” Eve said. “I saw what the spell required, and we’ll need time to set up for it.”
Grey nodded.
I stood, still holding my coffee cup. “I’ll change really quick.”
Eve rose. “I’ll come with you.”
We went into the bedroom where I’d left my things after my shower last night.
Eve closed the door and gave me a searching look. “You seem different.”
“Um, yeah.”
“Spill.”
“We need to get the Powderwort.”
“Not dressed like that.” She eyed the silk robe. “You can talk and dress at the same time. I know you’ve got it in you.”
I scowled at her but did as she said, spilling the whole sad, terrible tale as I pulled on my clothes.
Eve sat down hard on a chair. “Oh, fates, that’s bad.”
“Yeah, very bad.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes dark. “Listen to him, Carrow. If the Devil says it’s too dangerous for him to bite you, believe him. He knows his strength better than you do.”
“He’d never hurt me.”
“He wouldn’t want to.” She shook her head. “That’s why he’s saying no to your plan. And the Oracle confirmed it wouldn’t work. You’ve got to listen to him.”
I shook my head. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“Avoiding it won’t change the answer.”
I ignored her and went to the living room, finding it empty. Grey was likely in his room, changing. I didn’t want to leave without seeing him, but I couldn’t march in there like we were a couple and kiss him goodbye.
“I’ll see you later,” I called.
“Be careful.” His voice echoed through the door, and I turned away, heart twisting.
“Come on,” Eve said.
We hurried out of Grey’s place. By now, I’d learned the layout of the halls so well that even the disorientation spell didn’t work on me. Miranda wasn’t at her hostess stand—probably doing something far more important—and the man who stood in her place just nodded goodbye to us.
The day was rainy and gray again, and I pulled up the collar of my jacket as we stepped outside. “It’s like the weather knows things are going tits up.”
Eve squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”
“Are we going through the Haunted Hound?”
“Yeah.”
I nodded and followed her down the nearly empty street. A few brave shoppers were out, fighting with their umbrellas as the wind picked up. At one point, her raven joined us, but I didn't mention it. By the time we reached the gatehouse that led to the Haunted Hound, I was unpleasantly damp.
We passed through the gate, and the shoved us out into the darkened hallway at the back of the Haunted Hound. Eve led the way to the main part of the bar, but instead of turning right to go toward Quinn, she went left, heading for the roaring fire.
I joined her, spotting the ghostly dog who lay curled up in front of the flames, snoring away. “What are we doing over here?”
“Drying out.” She spun around in front of the fire, sighing with pleasure. “It won’t last long, since we’re headed right back into it, but I couldn’t resist.” She gestured for me to join her. “Come on.”
I stepped up beside her, sighing in pleasure as the warmth hit my chilled skin. In seconds, my clothes were perfectly dry, even my boots and socks. “Wow, that’s amazing.”
“A nice little spell.” She tugged on her jacket to straighten it, then started toward the bar. “Come on, let’s get out into London and get this over with.”
I followed her, cutting between the tables, which were full with the late morning crowd. Pots of tea nestled against pints of beer as the various supernaturals chatted and read the newspaper.
From behind the bar, Quinn smiled at us. “Anything I can get you, ladies?”
“An umbrella?” I asked.
“You’re in luck.” He bent down and retrieved two from the shelf below the bar, one bright yellow and the other blue. As we took them with gratitude,
he leaned toward Eve, concern on his face. “How are Mac and Seraphia?”
“Hanging in there. We think we have a bit of a lead.”
He nodded. “Then don’t let me hold you up.”
“Thanks, Quinn.” I raised my umbrella in salute, then followed Eve out the door.
As in Guild City, it was raining in London. The gray sky shed not a single ray of sunlight on all of Covent Garden.
I popped open my blue umbrella, looking up to see the image of the Cookie Monster staring down at me. Eve’s umbrella had Big Bird on it. Despite myself, I laughed, then looked at Eve. “Where to?”
“The Thames.”
“Somewhere in particular?” I asked, hoping to avoid a soggy march.
“My friend lives on a narrowboat,” she explained. “On a mooring at Battersea.”
I made a face and pulled out my mobile. “Bit of a trip from here. Hold on, let me check the map…”
“Lead on.”
Together, we hurried toward the Underground, clattering down the stairs and out of the rain. Quickly, I bought us tickets, since I no longer carried my Oyster Card. Less than a month ago, I’d been a regular Londoner with no idea that magic existed. Now my return to the Tube felt old-school, familiar yet foreign.
Eve’s raven followed us, drawing stares from the humans. We crowded onto the train with the rest of the passengers, and I counted the stops as we made our way to our destination. Finally, we reached our stop, and we flowed out with the other passengers and up the stairs, back into the rain. A short walk later, we caught a bus, which deposited us relatively close to the water.
I led Eve down the street toward the Thames. The river was sluggish and brown today, traveling slowly toward the sea. I pointed to the private docks crowded with the long, low boats popular in the south of England. “Do you know which one?”
She stepped up to the railing, trying to get her bearings. “I think so. Come on.”
She led the way to the docks, bypassing the sign that made it clear that only owners and visitors were welcome.
The wooden pier bobbed underfoot as we walked. About half the boats were empty—their occupants were at work, I imagined—but the others gleamed with light.
“I can’t believe people live on these,” Eve said. “Including the man we’re visiting.”
“That’s pretty freaking cool.” Something splashed in the river beside the dock, spraying me with cold water. “Damp, though.”
“Way too damp.” Eve led me to the end of the landing, where a boat strung with fairy lights bobbed—perhaps an odd touch for the morning but welcome on that gray day. The craft was long and low like its neighbors, built of a gleaming brown wood that was varnished to within an inch of its life. Plants in little pots grew on the top.
The back of the boat was flat, with a steering wheel and a U-shaped bench situated around a table. A man lounged on the bench, his handsome features lit by the white lights above him. He looked like a poet—long, lean form, angled face, and full lips. His dark hair fell over his brow.
He watched us with gleaming obsidian eyes as he raised a glowing cigarette to his lips.
Normally, I wasn’t a fan of cigarettes,
but this guy made it sexy, like something out of my teenage fantasies. James Dean or some other rock-star poet with dark eyes and full lips who watched you from the shadows. If my heart weren’t half wrapped up in Grey, I’d have given him a second look, cigarette and all.
As it was, Grey was the only one I could think of. He’d fit himself into my heart and mind in a way with which I wasn’t fully comfortable, especially after the revelations of last night.
I shook the thoughts away and returned my attention to the man.
Behind him, the city buildings rose tall into the thick clouds. Golden lights sparkled in the windows, a magical backdrop for the narrowboat.
“Eve.” His voice was smooth as whiskey with a burn at the back end, and he didn’t rise. “Been a while.”
“Hey, Xavier.” Eve’s voice was strangely tight and breathless.
I looked at her. The slightest hint of a flush rose to her cheeks, and she shifted. Her raven sat on one of the boats behind her, almost blending into the scenery. Xavier glanced at the raven, confusion flickering in his eyes, then back at Eve. Her flush seemed to deepen.