Anthem of Ashes: Book 9 in the Spellsinger Series Page 19

  “El, it's good to see you,” Kosmos murmured as he released me. “But damn, honey; you're here fifteen fucking minutes and you've already attracted trouble?”

  “It's a talent,” I tossed back saucily.

  “Looks as if someone wants to kill your lover.” Kasteo clasped his hands behind his back and peered at Darc as if trying to figure out exactly what it was about him that had inspired murderous intentions.

  “With my own magic,” Darc rumbled. “Which is one of the reasons why it didn't work so well.”

  “They stole your magic?” Kosmos asked with a furrowed brow and a horrified tone. “I didn't know that was possible.”

  “Neither did we,” I said grimly. “It shouldn't be possible. But there's been a lot of impossible thefts occurring lately and not the kind you two specialize in.”

  “What else has been stolen?” Kosmos flicked a chunk of blond hair out of his face with a crisp head shake and steadied his broad shoulders as if he were about to brawl. “If it's a Beneather thief you're after, we'll find him for you, El.”

  “Or her,” Torin interrupted. “That person couldn't have been more than five-seven. We're either looking for a short, slender man or a woman.”

  “Most Shining Ones are tall,” I whispered. “Even the women.”

  “We may have been right with our first suspicion.” Declan shifted his stare around our group. “This could be a witch. And another thing; El saw that same hooded person watching us at the Beneather Ball we attended in Venice.”

  “You attended the Beneather Ball?” Kasteo asked with jealousy and wonder.

  “Yeah; it was pretty cool.” I grinned at his awestruck expression.

  “Hey, how tall is Osamu?” Cerberus asked with a cocky look at me.

  I blinked at him.

  “Well, you're looking at him for the Phoenix murders, right? Why not magical theft as well?” Cerberus shrugged.

  “Osamu, the Witch Leader of Fire?” Kosmos asked. “That Osamu?”

  “Yeah. Why?” I shot back.

  Kos and Kas shared one of their trademark looks—the one that was usually a forecast of a fight—before Kosmos answered, “We saw him here, earlier today.”

  “Osamu was here?” I jerked involuntarily toward Kos. “Doing what?”

  “Fuck if we know,” Kasteo huffed. “We saw him, noted his presence, and moved on. It's not often that Witch leaders visit the Bazaar so we took notice. But that was all we took... for once.”

  “He was coming out of Yolanda's place,” Kos added in a serene tone; he's always been the more observant one.

  “It's not exactly suspicious for a witch to be purchasing herbs,” Cer said to me.

  “Yolanda sells more than herbs,” I reminded him. “She specializes in hard to get spell components.”

  “Your number the same?” Kosmos asked me. After I nodded, he added, “I'll call you if we spot Osamu again. Or if we find out anything about a magic thief; be it of the Phoenix or Darkness variety.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “We all do,” Darc added and leaned forward to shake Kosmos and then Kasteo's hands.

  “Sure thing, dark dude.” Kas winked at Darc. “Just take care of my future-ex-wife for me.”

  “Good to see you Kos,” Cerberus called out as the brothers left.

  They waved back at us and disappeared into the crowd. We were an island within the flow of pedestrians. The bazaar patrons had recovered from the violence within seconds and gone back to their daily routine as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. They only attention we garnered now was irritation for blocking the path but a sharp look from Cer quenched any protests before they arose.

  That's the Beneather Bazaar for you.

  “Best get to Icky's,” Cer said grimly as he scanned the crowd. “We shouldn't continue this conversation in the open.”

  “After we see Icarus, I want to stop by Yolanda's,” I announced.

  “I figured you might.” Cer paused to bear his teeth at an adlet.

  The dog-man had been eyeing us with deadly intent but as soon as he spotted Cerberus, his intentions changed. He made a snuffing sound as he bowed his head respectfully and then slunk away with his tail literally between his legs.

  Cer isn't just an alpha dog, he's their god.

  “Come on, everyone,” my bestie said with satisfaction, “Pick Your Poison is right around the corner.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Pick Your Poison, Icarus' potion shop, squatted between a Naga grocery and a Tikbalang clothing store. The smell of candied fruit from the Naga's home planet of Patala wafted out the open stained-glass doors and straight up my nose. The proprietor was busy behind his sweet-laden counter, scooping candies into paper bags. His cobra hood laid in calm folds around his face as he leaned down to offer a little, spherical treat to the young tengu who clutched his mother's skirt. The crimson-skinned child reached up eagerly, his beakish nose shivering as it scented the air. Finding only the offer of food and not harm, the boy delicately took the candy within his claws and bowed his head politely as he thanked the Naga. His mother, resplendent in a white kimono that showed off her blood-red skin and ebony hair, gave the boy a pat of approval for his manners. The perfect scene of innocence to go along with the scent of childhood. And all of that sat beside the nondescript facade of a shop that specialized in poisons strong enough to kill most beneathers.

  Is it just me or is there something utterly devious about opening a poison shop next to a candy store? I wondered which one had moved in first. My money was on the Naga.

  Cerberus strode forward without hesitation, yanking open Pick Your Poison's wooden front door. We stepped inside to the jangle of an old-school bell that hung just above the door on an iron swirl. There were no windows in the shop. Every wall was needed to support shelves; horizontal lines that ran the room, interrupted only by the front door and an archway that led to the back of the shop. Deep indigo bottles sat in orderly rows on those shelves, each with a little, handwritten label attached to it with string. None of the labels read; Drink me. In fact, you'd do well to never drink anything Icarus brewed. I wouldn't even risk a sip of his positive potions.

  “Icky!” Cerberus exclaimed.

  Icarus is a demigod, son of the Greek Goddess Akhlys. Of course, they aren't true Gods. I never thought they were, but I hadn't known there were real Gods until I became one. Or remembered that I had been one, rather. Greek Gods are aliens, as are most of the Beneathers of Earth. They migrated here from other planets and brought their magic with them. The pretty aliens, like the Greeks—well, most of the Greeks, but I'm getting to that—were revered by humans and became known as Gods. The not so pretty ones were feared and were labeled monsters or Demons, like the Tengu I'd just seen next door. Akhyls probably would have been called a monster if not for her race. Her magic is associated with death and it shows on her face. How she ever managed to have sex with someone, much less do it enough times to conceive a child, is beyond me. Although, I suppose it only takes once. Her son had inherited Akhyls' unfortunate looks.

  Oh, and just to be clear; he's not that Icarus.

  Icarus lurched around a long counter with squelching sounds that clicked my teeth together. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the sight of him. Thankfully, most of his body was covered by an exquisite suit. The only man in the room who was dressed better than Icarus was Slate. Both suits did their job and drew attention to the men who wore them, except in Icarus' case, it was negative attention.

  Icarus uses potions and ointments to prevent his slimy skin from dripping onto everything and ruining his beautiful clothes, but that doesn't stop his body from producing the thick film that had earned him his nickname. Icky is covered in a sheen of goo that emphasizes his sunken cheeks and the hollows below his eyes. When he shook Cerberus' hand, a squishing sound came from his latex glove and something bubbled near the edge of it on his wrist.

  “Cerberus.” Icarus peered at us with small, dark, weasel ey
es. “You brought visitors! And Elaria, it's lovely to see you.”

  “You too, Icarus,” I said politely and forced myself to shake his hand.

  It isn't Icky's fault that he's so gross, but his chosen profession didn't endear him to me enough for me to offer him more than basic respect.

  I introduced my men first and then, when Icky's gray eyes were round with awe, I waved Shava forward. “And this is Shavalina; she's a phoenix.”

  “Oh, my,” Icarus whispered. “It's an honor to have all of you in my humble shop.” He frowned and swiveled his gaze to Cerberus. “Why are all of you in my humble shop, Cerberus?”

  “We need some information, Icky,” Cer came right out with it. “There's some bad shit going down, and we're hoping you can help us.”

  I laid a raw ruby, as large as my thumbnail and perfect in color, on the counter. Icky's eyes widened further.

  “It's yours if you have anything helpful to say,” I offered.

  “What info are you after?” Icky asked eagerly.

  Cer looked at me. I was about to speak when Shava beat me to it.

  “Someone is murdering my people, Icarus,” she said solemnly. “They murder them and then take their ashes to prevent the phoenixes from rising.”

  “Shit,” Icarus whispered.

  “Anything you know about strange occurrences in the Beneath could be helpful,” I added. “People not coming around as often as usual, gaining power, acting funny, that sort of thing. Darcraxis was just attacked down the street by a thief who stole his dark magic. So, any word on that would be appreciated as well.”

  “Dark magic, eh?” Icky lifted an interested eyebrow at Darc.

  “The magic of Darkness,” Darc corrected. “I was a true god. I gave up most of my magic to be with Elaria.”

  “A true god?” Icarus instantly transferred his adoration from Shava to Darc.

  “Yeah; ain't that the shit?” Cerberus hooted. “And Elaria was a goddess; they were married out there in space.” Cerberus waved his hand loftily.

  “I had heard the rumors,” Icky murmured. “I didn't believe them.”

  “They're true,” I confirmed. “You got anything besides rumors about us?”

  Icarus went thoughtful. “I might have something. You said that you're watching for strengthening magic?”

  “What you got, Icky?” Cerberus growled.

  “A new race of Beneather,” he said gravely. “I haven't confirmed it, but it's from a reliable source and it's definitely unusual.”

  “A new race just arrived on the planet?” I asked.

  “No. A new race was born here,” Icarus' voice dropped into a dramatic tone.

  “What kind of race?” Shava asked. “What talents have they exhibited to make others declare them to be Beneather?”

  “Fire,” he said simply. “They work with fire.”

  “That fits the bill,” Slate said.

  “Where do we find them?” Cerberus asked.

  “They've been spotted all over the globe, though there isn't a lot of them, possibly two or three so far. Funny thing is; they don't frequent Beneather places. It's as if they don't know about the Beneath.”

  “So, it could be a new race that migrated in from an unknown realm,” I reasoned.

  “I suppose it's possible that their arrival went unnoticed.” Icarus shrugged with a wet slurp. “Or it could be something else entirely.”

  “Such as?” Banning asked.

  “Such as you, Blooder. An infection or a potion could have given humans supernatural abilities,” Icarus said with the barest sneer. “In which case, I wouldn't consider them to be Beneathers at all, just mutants.”

  I often forget how disliked Blooders are in the Beneath. They are viewed as tainted humans; parasites. Magic thieves, just like the people we were pursuing.

  “Speak to me like that again, and you'll find out why even the Blooder King fears me,” Banning snarled before I could defend him.

  Icky went pale and, well, ickier. “Sorry. No offense.”

  “You think this could be a potion?” I moved closer and reclaimed Icky's attention. “Could someone be using phoenix ashes to fuel it?”

  “In theory; yes.” Icky's glance slid to Shava. “Tell me about the ashes. Are they, as I suspect, condensed magic?”

  “The ashes are souls; the spiritual made physical. They hold both magic and memories,” Shava said reverently. “Condensed? Yes and no. They are what remains after this shell”—she waved a hand at her body—“is burned away. They are pure Phoenix; our essence.”

  “Phoenix refined,” Icky murmured. “Then my answer is this; absolutely. I could use those ashes to brew the most powerful potion I've ever made; one that could potentially grant true immortality and an affinity for fire.”

  “Would such a potion be safe for any beneather to drink?” Slate asked shrewdly.

  Icarus pondered this. “There could be side-effects if you mix it with an adverse magic. For example; I wouldn't suggest someone like a mermaid using it.”

  “Water and Fire,” Darcraxis murmured with a sly look my way.

  “Powerful when used side-by-side, but not so much in the same body,” I concluded. “Just as Lucifer said.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Darc asked with narrowed eyes.

  Right; I forgot to mention Lucifer's visit.

  “Lucifer showed up in my club last night,” Slate explained for me. “We haven't had the chance to tell all of you.”

  “You've had ample opportunity,” Torin ground out.

  “Lucifer showed up because he was worried about me. He knew I'd returned from my honeymoon, but I hadn't called to renew our lessons,” I explained quickly, glancing at Icky's fascinated face. There was a reason he had all the gossip; he listened. “Slate and I implied that Lucifer could have been the one to take Darc's magic, and Lucifer pointed out that he could never hold it, even if he were able to take it, which he said is impossible. Then Lucifer mentioned that should the thief come into close proximity with either Darc or me, we'd be able to sense the magic on him or her. We know the Darkness intimately, after all. And Lucifer was right; I felt it in the thief when I chased him through the Bazaar.”

  “But he's wrong about it being impossible to take someone's magic,” Icky interrupted, saving me from the glares my men were shooting at me. They focused on Icky as he continued, “Obviously it's not impossible; we've just now figured out a way to take phoenix magic. However, it was previously thought to be impossible.” He cocked his head and pursed his thin lips. “I find it to be a strange coincidence that such an impossible feat be achieved not only with phoenix magic but also with a god's magic, one right after the other.”

  “I don't like coincidences,” Cerberus growled.

  “Neither do I,” I agreed. “They're usually not coincidences at all.”

  “How would someone take my magic, straight out of my body?” Darc asked Icarus.

  “That; I do not know,” Icarus said gravely. “I, like this Lucifer you mentioned, would have said it was impossible had it not happened.”

  Darcraxis cursed.

  “I do have a theory that might help,” Icky offered.

  Darc swiveled back to him.

  “It's your magic; you have a connection to it,” Icarus pointed out. “The next time the thief appears, pull on that connection and perhaps you can take it back.”

  “Could it be that simple?” Darc whispered.

  “The magic didn't want to hurt you,” I reminded him. “I think it would gladly return to you if it could.”

  “That's a big if,” Torin muttered.

  “If it doesn't, we kill the thief; problem solved,” Gage announced.

  Icky chuckled. “I like the way you think, Griffin.” Then Icarus straightened and grinned. “And I may have just one more bit of assistance to offer you, Dark God.” He hurried over to a shelf and scanned the bottles; his latex-coated fingers flicking up labels until he made a victorious sound and snatched up a small, blue
bottle. He brought it back to Darc and handed it over proudly. “You may employ this potion in one of two ways; either toss the contents of the bottle directly onto the thief or break it at their feet. It will weaken their will and should allow you to take back your magic without impediment.”

  “Thank you.” Darc took the bottle and then shook Icarus' hand. “I won't forget your help, Icarus.”

  “You're very welcome.” Icarus grinned broadly. “And I'll let Cerberus know if I discover anything else.”