Now or Never: Wizards of Nevermore (22 page)

“Good news first,” said Taylor, eyeing the book with distaste. “I’m kinda tired of bad news.”

“Sorry,” said Gray. “I’m afraid it’s almost all bad.”

“What’s the almost good news, then?” asked Norie.

“Oh.” Gray sucked in a breath. “You know how we discussed the flexibility of prophecies?”

She nodded. “And the written-in-stone kind.” She frowned. “I take it whatever you found isn’t one of the flexible ones.”

“It’s been around for centuries. I don’t know where the Ravens found a version, but I have no doubt they did. It’s not as though there’s only one source. Usually prognostications are referenced in multiple resources, mostly to ensure their longevity. The prophet was Nelos—an ancient Greek thanaturge.”

“Like me?” asked Norie. She shook her head. “Wow. Still can’t wrap my brain around that.”

“You’ll probably need to absorb it all as quickly as you can. My guess is that the Ravens might’ve known about you for a while.”

“So, they bound her powers?” asked Taylor. “How come you and Ember and the others didn’t realize Norie was a magical?”

Gray shook his head. “I don’t know. She seems to attract the attention of necros.”

“Emmett isn’t a necro,” said Taylor sourly.

“But he’s studied it,” said Norie. “He knows a lot about it.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” admitted Gray. “I don’t think the Ravens bound her powers. And my guess is that they only recently discovered she was an asset, and was protected and controlled accordingly.” He sent Norie an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to talk about you in the third person.”

“I almost prefer it,” said Norie. “Then it doesn’t sound like this person is really me.”

“I’m afraid it is you,” said Gray. He tapped the book. “I don’t understand the whole thing.…Hell, I don’t understand most of it. But here’s part of it:

“I think we’ll need Ember to help with the translations. Anyway, it seems pretty clear that it’s you.” He
cleared his throat. “Another part of the prophecy mentions…er, virginal blood. Again.”

“Oh,” said Norie. “Oh.”

She ducked her head, and Gray could tell she was blushing. Shit. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her, though there was hardly a polite way to ask about a potential sacrifice’s sexual status. He glanced at Taylor and grimaced. Had his friend been capable of magic, Gray would be a pile of cinders right now. “Look, we don’t have time to play getting-to-know-you in a classy way. I’m sorry. I really am.”

Gray felt he was apologizing too much for crap that wasn’t his fault. Still, it wasn’t Norie’s fault she was the gateway to Kahl’s permanent entrance onto the earthly plane. It was damned difficult to be circumspect about this situation, though. They had, maybe, a couple of days to figure out everything, save Norie, save Nevermore, and oh yeah, save the world. And if it could all be done without telling his mother, that would be a bonus.

“I’m a virgin,” said Norie. She faced Gray, her face still tinged red. “Not on purpose.” She swallowed heavily and slanted a look toward Taylor. “It’s…complicated. The short version is that I’ve been unable to…um, complete that act. I can’t explain why, just that…anyone who’s ever tried ended up hurt. Needless to say, my dating life has been nonexistent.”

Gray thought Taylor looked a little too pleased about
that last statement, but he ignored the sheriff’s foolishness. He knew too well what it was like to fall in love and to have it fuck with your brain. In fact, love still fucked with his brain—but he wouldn’t give up Lucy for the world. So, yeah, he understood where Taylor was coming from. They had to keep their heads in the game, though, or their world would have a lot more demons in it. And demons didn’t give a shit about love, or about anything, really.

“Maybe you should read us the prophecy, or at least sum it up,” drawled Taylor. “That way we can at least start formulating a plan.”

“I think it’s better if we get everyone together,” said Gray. “Preferably without my mother’s knowledge.”

“Why not include her?” asked Taylor. “She might know a lot more about Nevermore’s past than she’s revealed. You ever ask her about the Goddess fountain?”

Surprise bolted through Gray. “No. You know my mother, Taylor. She’s…overwhelming.”

“She’s powerful, and she’s smart. I know you’re dreading what she’ll do when she meets Lucy, but she’s a class act. We need all the help we can get.” Taylor blew out a breath. “Besides, there’s no way in hell you’ll be able to keep this from her. She’ll sense the change in Nevermore’s magic in one second flat. She might even sniff out the
nemeton
all on her own.”

Gray put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. You’re right. I’ll introduce her to Lucy and
then say, ‘Hey, Mom, you wanna help us stop Kahl from taking over the world?’ ”

Taylor chuckled. “That ought to do.”

“Then I guess it’s back to Nevermore, and a morning meeting at Ember’s,” said Gray. “It’s after midnight now.” He looked at Taylor. “You afraid of flying?”

“You’re shitting me.” Taylor looked aghast at Gray’s suggestion.

“It’s three hours in the car or an hour on ‘Dragon Airlines.’ ”

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Norie. “I’ve never heard of Dragon Airlines. Is it local?”

“Yeah,” said Taylor on a groan. “Real local.” He pushed back from the table. “We’ll need to bundle up and maybe find some pillows. It’s gonna be cold…and scaly.”

Norie turned a quizzical look to Gray. “He didn’t drink a drop of alcohol with dinner, I swear.”

“You’re gonna wish you did,” muttered Taylor. He gave Gray the stink-eye. “Me, too. Well, the SUV isn’t gonna fit no matter how big your ass is, and I need it for work.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Gray. “I’ll make sure it’s returned to you tomorrow.” He closed the book and handed it to Taylor. “Hold on to that. If we can figure out what it all means, it might offer the answers we need.”

“Why does this magical crap always have to be so complicated?” asked Taylor.

Gray knew his friend was just showing his nerves about the upcoming trip. He grinned. “Because it’s the best way to annoy the mundanes, of course.”

In the dark vault hidden beneath the Dragon embassy, the magically locked case housing the Colt. 45 snapped open. The gun was removed, and the one holding it leaned close to the gleaming metal and whispered, “Our task is not done. To Nevermore, my old friend. To the next one who deserves punishment for breaking vows. For breaking hearts.”

Together, the gun and its keeper faded until nothing remained but darkness and grief.

“Hello?” Happy’s voice echoed into the dingy recesses of the barn. The early-morning light barely penetrated the dark interior. Like knives of burnished gold slashing leathery flesh, the slashes of light added to the weirdtastic vibe of the place.

She’d entered through a hole created by missing boards and had walked only a few feet. Now she stood ankle-deep in moldy hay, wondering if she should venture any farther. This place was where her own father had cursed her. She hated it there. Why would Ant ask her to meet in the one place he knew she couldn’t stand?

It wasn’t like him.

On the way there, it had occurred to Happy that
maybe she had somehow become part of his testing. She didn’t want him to fail, not really, so she figured she’d show up and be the good girlfriend. Well, almost girlfriend. As she turned in a slow circle and listened to her own labored breathing, she got a bad feeling in her gut.

She felt the tingles that indicated recent magic. It was a real bummer that she could sense magic but not use it. It wasn’t exactly an awesome gift. At least, she hadn’t found much use for it. But she could definitely feel that something magical had gone down recently.

Maybe the testing for Ant had already happened? Sure. Elandra could’ve dragged him there and made him do some more stupid tricks. He could already be waiting for her. But why wasn’t he calling out to her? Or at least doing some kind of magical woo-woo so she’d know he was around?

Her heart started to pound. She could be naive, and she knew it. She’d experienced enough ugly in the world to understand its follies, even though her youth kept her from getting too jaded. She had hope, and faith. At least that was what Ant and everyone else were always telling her. Sometimes, she didn’t know if it was her own thoughts in her head, or the voices of all the people trying so hard to guide her.

That really bad feeling pulsed in her gut like an ancient drumbeat.

“Ant?” she called out.

Her voice echoed across the barn, boomeranging back to her in a lower, softer tone. Goose bumps pimpled her arms. Okay, that was creepy times twelve. She scuttled forward, peering into the interior of the barn. If she went forward, then she’d be close to the spot where her father had given her his curse. He hadn’t cared if she lived or died.

In the end, he’d been the one to die. And she wasn’t sorry. Not after what he’d done to her mother and to Lucy. He could burn in hell as far as she was concerned. She hoped his soul was being flambéed daily by the Dark One.

Happy sucked in a breath and marched forward. She wasn’t a coward. And she wouldn’t let herself be terrified. She’d survived death, after all. Not many people could claim that they’d died and returned. She didn’t actually remember very much about dying, or where she was while Lucy was saving her. She’d had a vague feeling of floating, of feeling light and at peace. Then again, she’d thought about it so much, she was probably just adding touches to the experience, in case anyone asked. It seemed to her that no one wanted to know—not even Trent, and he was a necromancer. She supposed it was because everyone was there and had witnessed her death. Ant had described seeing her soul “bobbing in the air like a cork floating in a creek.”

What the—

Happy stumbled to a stop and gawked at the strange
scene. A crystal hung over a still-boiling kettle, which was surrounded by candles that had obviously been blown out. Whatever the magical setup had intended to create, she didn’t know.

Had Ant and Elandra made this mess? If so, why? And where had they gone?

Then she saw the crumpled figure at the edge of the circle that had been drawn in the dirt. Her mind went blank, and bile rose in her throat. “Ant!” she screamed. She skidded to a halt and dropped to her knees. Something had gone wrong. A spell had hurt him—or Elandra had. Her thoughts whirled and collided, until she couldn’t grab on to even one that made sense.

She grabbed at the robe, the black, silver-edged robe—and her mind tugged at that detail, but she couldn’t stop and unravel the knot. She pulled hard. The man rolled onto his back, his sightless eyes gazing at the singed hole in the barn roof.

“Shit,” whispered Happy. Her gaze went to the gold handle of the dagger embedded in the man’s bony chest. Her entire body went cold. It couldn’t be.…It
couldn’t
be!

Orley Ryerson was dead.

She had the urge to yank the dagger from his chest, to hide it, to run and run and run…but logic asserted itself. No. She had to deal with this the way Lucy and Gray would expect her to. She touched the small red
orb that hung from a gold chain around her neck and said, “Help.”

The magic crystal glowed, its magic released, and her message traveled instantly to Lucy and to Gray.

Happy moved away from the man who’d scared her when he was alive. He wasn’t exactly friendly looking now. But dead was dead, she knew. So she crawled to the opposite side of the circle, sat down, wrapped her arms around her knees, kept her gaze on the corpse, and waited.

“Not much to look at,” said Cullen as the limousine trundled down Main Street.

“It’s not a thriving metropolis,” agreed Leticia. “But Nevermore has its perks.”

“If you say so.” He returned to gazing out the tinted window. The Consul had insisted on showing him the town, as though doing so were some sort of grand favor for him. But Cullen suspected the woman just wasn’t ready to meet her new daughter-in-law.

He almost felt sorry for Lucinda Calhoun. He’d heard she’d once been a Rackmore, and the rumor mill had churned out plenty of scenarios about Gray marrying the younger sister of his first wife—the one who’d sold his soul to save her money. What a bitch. Either Lucinda was the most awesome woman on the planet—and hell, that kind of woman plain didn’t exist—or Gray was Grade A Fool. Cullen was betting on the latter. The dude obviously fell for the wrong kind of girl.

The private airplane ride from Washington to Dallas had been pleasant, if a little boring. Leticia spent a great deal of time signing paperwork and reading things her assistants kept putting in front of her. The two comely women had not accompanied them, however. Only the lictors—all freaking twelve of them. He’d spent most of the flight pretending to sleep, not that he believed the Consul would’ve insisted on a conversation. She’d been keeping a distance between them, and he wasn’t sure if the switch had been flipped because she’d gotten him to Nevermore, which had been her goal, or because she now had bigger fish to fry—or rather, witches to burn.

They made a slow circle in a roundabout.

“The temple is open,” said Leticia.

Cullen couldn’t tell if the Consul was pleased or pissed about that development. He gave a cursory glance at the Temple of Light. It was nice enough, he supposed, like most magical churches. In fact, the place seemed almost welcoming. Still, he wasn’t exactly a venerating-deities kind of guy. He left the worshipping to the suckers.

He noted the large brass dragon in the center of the circular drive and gave a low whistle. “Well, I guess there’s no mistaking this is a Dragon town.”

“No,” said Leticia in a voice that held both warning and pride, “there’s no doubt at all.”