Syren kept her arm entwined around Bobbi’s as she guided her to the psychic shop. Bobbi had been clumsier since the Brotherhood incident a month ago, and Syren couldn’t have her fall on the way to a lead.
“What is this?” Bobbi asked.
“Don’t worry, she doesn’t sleep.”
“Who doesn’t sleep?”
“Precedent’s local witch.”
“Isn’t that an offensive term?”
Syren shrugged.
“You’ll understand when you meet her.”
Bobbi seemed to accept her fate as Syren brought her into the psychic shop.
Syren shivered as soon as they entered.
“It’s always cold in here.”
“You can borrow my jacket,” Bobbi offered.
Syren shook her head.
“That’s not going to fit me.”
Bobbi’s apology was prevented by the owner floating down through the ceiling.
Juliet Emery was a short, pale woman with white hair and cloudy yet piercing eyes. She wore a scarf over her arms and had a missing foot, only obvious because she wasn’t wearing socks or shoes as she stepped through the front desk.
“I lost it in a war,” Juliet explained as she noticed Bobbi staring, “Are you the scholarship student?”
“How would you know about that?”
“I know things. It’s why people come to me, and why I’m allowed to keep ‘Psychic’ on the window.”
“What kind of psychic are you?” Bobbi asked.
“The kind your friend thinks can diagnose you. Did she explain how this works?”
Bobbi shook her head, giving the most concerned stare to Syren.
“Charmer wouldn’t recommend her if she couldn’t keep a secret,” she assured.
“Charmer knows people to recommend?”
Juliet laughed. Bobbi jumped.
“You’re right,” Juliet said, “She isn’t social, but we’re old friends. I even know Frank, and I help his assistant out sometimes.”
Bobbi’s eyes widened.
“Are you his blood-dealer?”
Juliet nodded.
“Not my blood, but I have a stable supply he feels comfortable enough taking, though I’m usually telling him he doesn’t eat enough.”
Syren and Bobbi shared a knowing look. With Drake’s emaciation, it was a wonder he could stand up, let alone be strong enough to win a fight against other vampires.
“Okay,” Bobbi said, still not relaxed, “What’s the process?”
“I’m going to prick you with a clean needle, extract some blood, and see what it tells me.”
“What?”
“You’ll feel a little numb for the next 15ish minutes, but after that you’ll be fine.”
“I don’t even know—”
“I know where your blood is, I assure you.”
Bobbi warily extended her left hand.
Juliet walked through the counter again, pulling out a thin needle, an alcohol wipe, and an empty vial. She gestured for Bobbi to step closer as she leaned on the counter. After the minute it took Bobbi to comply, Juliet wiped down her index finger then poked it with the needle.
“Ow,” Bobbi looked away.
“This is the interesting part,” Juliet said, “Sure you don’t want to see?”
Bobbi turned back.
Juliet tapped her finger against Bobbi’s, gesturing in an arc that ended with a tap on the vial.
A surprisingly thick stream of blood poured from Bobbi’s finger-prick, following Juliet’s arc into the vial for only a moment until it filled. Bobbi stared at her hand.
“I scabbed it over for you, too,” Juliet said, “I can offer a band-aid, but I usually save it for kids.”
“You do this to kids?”
“Do you know how many mystery illnesses children suffer from? A lot of parents are far more willing to trust a random psychic than an actual doctor. Probably because I charge less.”
“What do you tell them?”
“Usually I just tell them what they should ask the doctor about.” Juliet lifted the vial, staring at it. “Your blood’s a little cold, not that most would notice.”
“What does that tell you?”
“You’ve been trying to stay cold lately, which seems like pain management.”
Bobbi flinched like she’d been caught.
“If it’s a matter of pain, I need to know where it is on your body, and how it started.”
Syren almost opened her mouth before Bobbi gave her a look.
“I can also find it myself if you’re not sure.”
“I think—”
Before Bobbi could protest, Juliet pricked her own finger with the needle, and her small drop of blood led the vial blood to surround Bobbi, primarily gathering behind her back.
“I thought you might just have high blood sugar with blood that pink, but I think I know what you didn’t want to tell me.”
The blood returned to the vial, aside from the droplet of Juliet’s blood, which went into the trash.
“What do you mean?” Bobbi asked.
“You don’t have diabetes, or bad dietary habits. You have a different metabolism altogether. Fat and protein aren’t macronutrients for you the same way they are for most, but you have a longer sleep cycle to make up for it. Based on the hour, you aren’t one of the ones who uses sunlight as an additional source. Based on the hair, you have an affinity for plant-craft.”
Bobbi didn’t respond, though her fists had closed up.
“How did you injure your wing?” Juliet asked.
“How do you know all that?” Bobbi asked.
“I’m old,” Juliet said, “Given the crowd you run with, you hopefully understand age isn’t always visible.”
“No one else knew.”
“I’m an old mage. My grandfather was a feyrie, and he liked answering questions.”
“Okay,” Bobbi seemed to be processing all the options in her head, “It happened last month. A vampire tore it to keep me from flying away.”
Juliet grimaced.
“What did your blood do to it?”
“Death,” Syren said, “He took the energy out of everything nearby until Bobbi,” she lifted her arms to indicate a growing flame, “Fwoom.”
“What she said.”
“I was wondering what caused the forest fire.”
Bobbi shrank a little.
“I probably can’t fix your wing,” Juliet admitted, “But if you let me look at it, I can tell you what I know.”
Bobbi reluctantly removed her jacket, turning around.
Syren couldn’t ignore the wings. They looked like the warped glass of bathroom windows, until she looked with the wrong angle and they disappeared. The left wing was harder to miss, shredded to pieces as it was.
Juliet pursed her lips.
“That looks bad.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Bobbi said.
Juliet carefully reached a hand out, causing Bobbi to sharply inhale once she touched the wing.
“I don’t think it’s salvageable,” Juliet said, “You’ll need to cut it off above the tear, or you’ll probably make it worse. If it tears much more it will reach your back muscles, and then you’ll lose even more mobility.”
Bobbi didn’t look heartbroken. She looked like Juliet told her more things she already knew.
“Have you treated a Feyrie before?” she asked.
“You would be the first.”
“Then you don’t know for sure.”
Juliet crossed her arms.
“I saw plenty of fey before they disappeared. If they tore their wings, they wore a prosthetic, but they had to remove the torn wing first.”
Bobbi scrutinized her.
“You can call my bluff if you want,” Juliet said, “But it’s your health that you’re gambling, and it’s not a bluff.”
“Do you need to look at it anymore?” Bobbi asked.
Juliet shook her head.
“Goodbye then.” Bobbi put her jacket back on and walked out. Syren ran out after her.
“What about your blood?”
“It’s not like anything worse can happen if she keeps it.”
Syren turned back to Juliet, who had moved the vial to a table behind the counter as she opened a small safe.
“We can pay you,” Syren offered.
“Not for something this valuable, but your friend can consider it a down-payment for awhile.”
Syren gritted her teeth before catching up to Bobbi.
“Just because you can trust her with your secret doesn’t mean giving her your blood was a good idea. What if she gives it to Drake?”
“Vlad wouldn’t use it.”
Syren wasn’t convinced. Drake cared enough to keep an eye on Bobbi while she was unconscious, but who’s to say the scent of her blood wouldn’t be too alluring for him.
The moment the shop was out of sight, Bobbi leaned hard on the side of the nearest building.
“Do you really think I’ll have to cut it off?”
“Yeah,” Syren admitted.
“Shit.”
“We can ask Singe. I think Draconis is all about caring for creatures from Magek, so maybe he’ll know something we don’t.”
Bobbi scowled. Syren thought she and Singe had made up, but apparently not.
“Is he really the most likely to know?”
“No one else even suspected what you could be.”
“But he’s also a fucking liar who treats me like an animal and not a person.”
“He regrets it.”
The scowl was turning into a glare.
“And I’m sure the brotherhood of fucked up shit regrets kidnapping me and fucking up my wing. That doesn’t mean I’ll forgive them.”
This was becoming a dead end.
“Is there anyone who knows about you that you don’t have a grudge against.”
“I still like you.”
Syren stood a little straighter at that.
“I don’t mind Frank and Thoth, even if Frank broke my arm that one time.”
Bobbi and Charmer seemed to permanently be on the wrong foot with each other, so there was no need to ask about that.
“And what did Drake do to piss you off?”
Bobbi finally started walking again.
“Are you going to answer me?” Syren asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Syren had an idea. Drake had implied she didn’t want to talk to him because he’d confessed his feelings, but if it was something else, they weren’t in a position to keep too much information to themselves.
“Should I hate him about it?”
Bobbi shook her head.
“I just don’t want to be around him.”
She was probably right then, but she had to be sure. She decided to play dumb.
“Do you like Drake?”
“What?”
“It’s fine, you know, he’s already had a crush on you for awhile.”
“What?”
“Though I get why you wouldn’t notice. I think he’s had a crush on you since that first Halloween.”
Bobbi turned and grabbed Syren by the shoulders.
“Was I the only one who couldn’t fucking tell he was in love with me?”
“There’s a difference between a crush and being in love.”
“Well he told me he loved me, so I think I get to say it.”
Bingo.
“You really don’t like him back, do you?” Syren realized.
Bobbi turned forward again.
“I don’t like anyone that way, so when a friend likes me, it ruins everything. I don’t like second-guessing people.”
That explained the problem with Singe too.
“And you know what?” Bobbi asked, “He had the fucking gall to say he wanted things to stay the same, but they’re never the same. It’s a fucking lie because they just want me to suddenly realize I actually do like them, and they don’t believe I’m acting different because I’m uncomfortable, and—” Bobbi huffed, “And I’d rather be a bitch now than later.”
Syren didn’t really understand any of that, but she did understand that Bobbi had experience in this type of situation.
“I don’t think Drake, or Singe, would be mad at you being uncomfortable.”
“When did Singe come into this? Does he have feelings too?”
Syren laughed.
“You don’t like second-guessing people. Singe hid information, now you always wonder what else he’s withholding, but you can always interrogate him.”
“True,” Bobbi said, “And it would be smarter to use him than to ignore our best source of info.”
“Exactly.”
“Thanks, Syren. Want to interrogate Singe with me?”
“Want to invite Charmer to read his mind and make sure he doesn’t have any more secrets?”
Bobbi grimaced.
“It would be smarter—”
“Alright,” Bobbi slumped, “But if she tries to attack me, I’m burning her hair off.”
Syren laughed at that.
“I actually haven’t seen you use fire yet.”
Bobbi pulled a stick out of her hair, directing it like a baton until “Syren” was written in the air just in front of them with fire. It disappeared a moment later.
“Now you have.”
“Surprised you aren’t too traumatized to use it again.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Singe could still smell smoke. Bobbi had done a number on the forest.
“This had to have caught someone’s attention,” he said.
“The Vampire courts won’t wish to deal with someone who can wield fire so effectively,” V assured, “I would be more worried about your faction.”
“My faction?” Singe was carefully moving debris for any leftover evidence of vampires, to little avail.
“Mages: Your people might care about any signs of fey, and this is one of their primary entrances to Earth.”
Singe blew the idea off.
“They’re not going to notice anything different between this and a mortal pyrokinetic. Maybe Lady Diligence could tell, but I don’t know if she’s ever been to Earth.”
“Lady Diligence?”
“The oldest mage alive, probably; maybe that Shepherd guy could give her a run for her money. The point is, aside from her and her brother, there isn’t a mage alive that’s ever met a feyrie, let alone recognized their craft among a myriad of superhumans.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“If necessary, we have a demon who can change their memories.”
“When did I agree to that?” Hecate asked behind him.
“Also, you recognized a feyrie without ever meeting one,” Bobbi added, “Not that you let me know that.”
“And Juliet Emery said her grandfather was a feyrie,” Syren revealed.
“I understand now that maybe you aren’t the best source,” V ended.
“Good evening, everyone,” Singe said, “Here to help hide evidence of Bobbi’s Massacre?”
“My what?”
“You killed a lot of vampires,” V explained, “But we can’t let the authorities know anyone died, even if they were eugenicist bastards.”
“Didn’t we establish you were a bastard?” Syren asked, “Should you be using that phrase as an insult?”
“I was legitimized.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Bobbi redirected, “Singe, do you know anything about my wing?”
“I know you have two of them.”
“It hasn’t healed?” V asked.
Instead of answering, Bobbi removed her jacket, lifting one intact wing before turning around to show the other one torn to shreds.
“It’s gotten worse,” V said.
“So I’ve heard. It still hurts too.”
“We thought since you were our closest authority on Fey…” Syren said.
“I only know what I did because I was a stable boy. Something like a wing is out of my wheelhouse.”
“You’ve never seemed that interested in horses before,” V said, “How long ago were you a stable boy?”
“Dragons,” Singe corrected, “I worked in the Dragon Stables of Draconis.”
“Just when I think you’re done hiding things from us,” Bobbi said.
“It didn’t seem important,” Singe defended.
“How do you know about Fey from working with Dragons?”
“Dragons had a symbiotic relationship with the fey. Dragon riders are trying to fill in that niche of connection, so by learning what a dragon needs, we know what the fey had to provide.”
Bobbi was rolling that information around in her head.
“We have some records of them,” Singe continued, “But I never heard about injured wings.”
“What do you do with dragons who’ve injured their wings?” V asked.
“At your extent of damage,” Singe said, “Amputation, and commissioning the Forge to make a prosthetic.”
“The Forge?” Hecate asked.
“They make enchanted items and weapons. We could replace it with cloth or leather, but The Forge has more skill in that area.”
“What do they make the prosthetics out of?” Bobbi asked.
“Dragon scale mostly, of the same kind of dragon, and even better if it’s the dragon’s own scales. They shed enough that we have them in abundance, and the Forge loves the material, so it’s a mutually beneficial relationship.”
“So what do I do if I can’t contact the Forge and offer them my own scales?” Bobbi asked.
Singe shrugged.
“Make your own prosthetic I guess. Your wings are probably different from dragon wings anyways.”
Bobbi looked annoyed. Singe wouldn’t want a conversation to end in him having to remove a wing either, and he didn’t even have them half the time.
“I can help if you need to sew,” Syren offered.
“I’m fine,” Bobbi said, looking at the ground, “I’ll be fine.”
“I may—” Hecate began.
“I need some time to think,” Bobbi announced as she left. V lifted his hand a moment, but dropped it.
“Not too much time!” Syren yelled after her, “Remember what Juliet said.”
“What did she say?” V asked.
“I’m not committing a HIPAA violation.”
“She said what isn’t hard to guess,” Hecate answered, “If it tears much further, it will damage Bobbi’s back, and she will be even more disabled than she’s already become.”
“Then why is she—” Singe was stopped by Hecate raising a hand.
“Not long after finding the freedom to fly, her wing is taken from her. Anyone would be enraged.”
Hecate was surprised Bobbi had bothered coming to her cabin.
“You have surpassed my knowledge by this time,” Hecate said, “I cannot teach you, but you are free to use my property as a training ground, just keep my garden clean.”
“If I came here to train, I would have brought Syren along.”
Hecate acknowledged with some movement.
“You were going to say something,” Bobbi noted, “Before I left. What’s your solution?”
“Not a solution, just a connection. I know a Forge—I know more than one Forge, but this one still lives there. She has trained as a healer as well. You would be hard-pressed to find a better option to return use of your wing to you.”
Bobbi mulled it over.
“Do they have to know?”
“I don’t know,” Hecate answered, “I haven’t seen her healing in action, but it is a distinct possibility you will have to reveal yourself to her. However, she has much to keep secret herself.”
“You’ll blackmail her for me?” Bobbi asked.
Hecate laughed.
“I have greater loyalty to her than to you. If either of you will be blackmailed, it is you.”
“Wow, that’s so reassuring, I’d love it if you called her.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.
“She will understand your desire for secrecy, more than most of our companions would.”
“But will she respect it?”
“That is your gamble to make,” Hecate said, reaching into Bobbi’s senses and making the pain of the wing more obvious.
“Fine,” Bobbi said through gritted teeth, “But I’ll fuck up your garden if she even implies she’ll share my secret.”
Bobbi certainly meant that threat.
Now that the conversation concluded, Bobbi left without a goodbye.
“She despises me,” she told her plants as she watered them, “And I can hardly blame her.”
She imagined a response.
“Well, this isn’t Vecira, randomly throwing someone against a wall is considered rude.”
She laughed.
“It’s rude in Vecira, too, you’re right. There’s a time and place to throw people into walls, or on the floor.”
A response from a completely imagined voice, as she didn’t have memory of them speaking.
“I wish I could be sure I’d treat you better than I do her,” she admitted back.
Singe saw red. The color was all that filled his vision for a moment. By the time he thought to memorize the hue, he saw the world around him again, though it looked greener for the moment.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
The Moon Dragon was already asleep.
The weight of his idiocy finally landed on him, so he laid down on the floor of the cave.
The Moon Dragon woke up, flew a few feet to land on Singe’s chest, and nestled.
“Yeah, I’m a Night Dragon,” he confirmed, “And I have nothing to protect, so I may as well protect you.”
He shouldn’t care about Elsie, but it hurt to be abandoned for a rider, even if that probably wasn’t her intention.
She’d just made him feel normal, no dragon-blood, no incarnate dragon status, no dead hero father.
Maybe he didn’t love her. Maybe her new beau did.
“The first thing I’ll see when I meet her is red,” he repeated.
He would marry a woman. That made sense, as he’d never been interested in another man before now.
There were a few women who made him think of the color red: Lady Epiphany, Draconis, but he didn’t have feelings for either of them, and Epiphany at least already loved someone else.
His Uncle’s neighbor, Sarah, had deep red hair, close to the color the Moon Dragon made him see, probably. She was older than him, but he was fifteen, only a few years from being an adult, and mages could live a long time if they wanted to.
That settled it: He’d try to know her better next time he was on Earth.
The Moon Dragon on his chest let out a light growl before nestling deeper.
After all these years, Juliet finally gets to make her Strangers cameo! She was mentioned briefly back in chapter 11 of the first book, and I've attempted to grant her scenes (Found here and here, for $1 Patrons), but each time it hasn't worked.
I'm very excited about everything going on in this book. I hope you enjoy the ride.