“Come back,” said Imogen. “You were having a dream.”
A sigh whooshed out of me as I sat up, dragging a shaky hand through my hair. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingertips to my eyelids, trying to banish the image of Kaden sneering down at me.
Just a dream, I told myself.It was just a dream.
Kaden wasn’t trying to kill me. At least, I didn’t think so. I wasn’t trapped in that ring of hellfire at his mercy. I wasn’t that weak, helpless girl.
But those demons had been real enough. They shouldn’t have been able to cross into the mortal realm, and yet . . .
“We’re going to see Adelaide,” said Imogen, sitting back on her heels. “Get dressed.”
Adelaide.Shit. Not as bad as a horde of demons, but the old witch was a close second.
Still shaking, I planted my feet on the floor and stood. The old wooden boards creaked and groaned as I donned the extra set of leathers I’d packed and stepped into my weapons holster.
I caught Imogen watching me as I pulled up the leather loops and buckled it around my waist. Out of habit, I checked that all of my mundane daggers were in their sheaths before slipping a hand under the crocheted throw pillow I’d been using and withdrawing the witchwood blade.
“Wow,” said Imogen, lifting her brows. “You reallydosleep with a knife under your pillow.”
“Wish I could say it’s never come in handy.”
Her face blanched as I slid the blade into the topmost sheath along my right thigh where I could reach it easily. What had once been a redundant dagger I kept mostly forsentimental reasons now felt like the most valuable weapon in my arsenal.
The sun was just beginning to set as Imogen and I emerged from her apartment building and drove to Adelaide’s house. We passed through a run-down neighborhood that reminded me of Silas’s street, populated by lesser supernaturals and mortals who worked in the Quarter.
Dogs barked from derelict yards as we passed, and the broken windows of beat-up old cars leered at us through the dark. After a few blocks, though, some of that old charm returned, and the rusted chain-link fences gave way to wrought iron and wood.
The houses looked cheerier here — less beat down by the bloodshed and debauchery of the Quarter. Tiny craftsman bungalows lined the cracked sidewalk, and Imogen pulled up in front of a brightly colored house whose siding was painted a garish coral. Plum shutters fanned out from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and wrought-iron bars had been fashioned over the glass panels of the faded mustard door.
Imogen hadn’t said a word the entire drive over. She kept chewing on her bottom lip, as if her every instinct rebelled against bringing me here. She wore a flowing cotton dress with a flowery scarf tied around her head. The contrast to my all-black attire would have been comical if my outfit hadn’t been designed for fighting and killing.
Climbing out of her beat-up car, I glanced up and down the deserted street. There was no tang of blood and death here — just the steady thrum of magic emanating from the little coral house.
I could hear Imogen’s heart beat faster as sheapproached the front door and knocked. I stood behind her on the top step, keeping my hands close to my weapons.
After a long while, I heard the slow shuffling of footsteps inside the house, and the door opened a crack. A gnarled brown hand wrapped around the door, and a pair of eerie white eyes appeared.
Adelaide was blind, but I could practically feel her reaching out with her senses — including her magical ones.
“Imogen? What are you doing here?”
“I . . . need your help,” said Imogen quietly, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “May we come in?”
The old witch stiffened, and I felt the pulse of her magic wash over me. She hadn’t opened the door all the way.
I waited, hardly daring to breathe, as she extended her long neck to peer at me with those sightless eyes that nevertheless seemed to strip me bare.
Her nostrils flared as if she’d caught my scent, and I saw the instant she realized who — realizedwhat— I was.
“What isshedoing here?” Adelaide hissed, rounding on Imogen. “Why have you brought herhere, to my home?”
“Lyra is an old friend,” said Imogen softly. “And she’s . . . she’s in trouble.”
“I’ve got plenty of troubles of my own, girl. Don’ need to borrow anyone else’s.”
“Adelaide,please.” Imogen twisted her hands in front of her, and I saw what it was costing her to bring me into her world. To expose her coven and every witch in it just to helpme. “I trust her.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
