I couldn’t help the sigh that whooshed out of me when she left the room or fight the heavy weight of despair that seemed to sink into my chest. That stone had been my best hope of survival, and I’d thrown myself to the wolves with no means of protection.
Imogen and I didn’t say a word, and Adelaide reappeared a moment later, pushing an old-fashioned tea tray rattling with cups and saucers. She busily set about serving the tea, which steamed with an unfamiliar peppery aroma.
I stared with trepidation at the dark leaves swirling in my cup. Imogen may have trusted the old witch, but I didn’t. So I merely touched the cup to my lips before setting it noisily back in its saucer.
A long moment passed in strained silence, broken only by the clink of Adelaide’s spoon against the inside rim of her cup. When she’d finished adding honey to her own tea, she sat back in her chair and fixed me with an inscrutable expression.
“Don’t look so morose. If that stone does exist, it’s been missing or hidden for centuries.”
“And that’sgoodnews?” Imogen asked.
Adelaide shot her an irritated look. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how far you’re willing to go to get your hands on that stone.” Her milky gaze swept to me. “The best way tofind an object that no one has seen in half a millennium is to talk to someone who’s been around that long.”
I sat up a little straighter in my seat — or at least tried to. The old springs in the settee seemed to have given up, and they merely creaked as I shifted my weight.
“You mean a vampire?” Imogen pressed.
“No,” Adelaide scoffed. “Use your head, girl. A vampire would have little interest in a stone like that. I am speaking, of course, of the fair folk.”
I sensed Imogen’s eyes on me, but I didn’t meet her gaze. I hoped she didn’t bring up Kaden in front of Adelaide. Somehow, I didn’t think me being indebted to a faerie would do anything to ingratiate me to the witch.
“Of course, involving yourself with the fae comes with its own set of risks,” Adelaide conceded. “Any information is power in the hands of a faerie.”
I swallowed. “Is there any fae in particular who might know about the stone?”
“I can’t say for certain. I make it a point never to deal with the fae if I can help it. Not that most of them want anything to do with witches. The fae tend to keep to themselves. But there is one you could ask — one whomightbe willing to speak with you.”
“Who?” I asked, my throat suddenly very dry.
“They call him the Ringmaster. You can find him out at the old fairgrounds. But be on your guard, girl.” Adelaide leveled me with a serious look. “Light fae or dark fae, it doesn’t matter. They don’t give something for nothing. And youdon’twant to bargain with a faerie.”
I swallowed. I didn’t relish the idea of going to look for this Ringmaster — whoever he was. But what choice did I have? If I stayed in the Quarter, it would only be a matterof time before either Silas or one of the clans tracked me down and killed me. And every moment I remained here put Imogen at risk.
“Thank you,” I said, hoping my voice conveyed the sincerity of my gratitude. It was no small thing for the coven leader to invite me into her home knowing what I was. She’d also given me the only lead I had.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” said the old witch. “And I pray to the gods you never darken my doorstep again.”
I pressed my lips together. I supposed that was as warm a farewell as I could hope for from the coven leader. Imogen and I set down our teacups, preparing to leave, but something stopped me from standing up.
“There’s something else . . .” I said, the words slipping from my mouth before I had a chance to second-guess them.
I felt Imogen’s eyes on me as I gripped the smooth wooden arm of the settee. The stain was worn off along the carved end, as though hundreds of women had sat here before me, having tea with this witch who radiated such power despite her frail body.
“Yes?”
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, debating with myself. Adelaide had no reason to believe me. Gods,Iwouldn’t believe me. But after she’d let me into her home and given me advice, the least I could do was warn her.
“The night I left Silas, I was attacked in the Quarter . . . by three higher demons.”
At those words, Adelaide’s proud, shrewd face went slack, revealing the finer lines around her mouth and those etched into her brow.
The story spooled out of me in a rush. How I’d come to make the deal with Julian; how I’d been ambushed by a demon wearing his skin; how I’d defended myself with my witchwood blade.
I only left out the part about Kaden, though I wasn’t completely sure why. It wasn’t as if I’daskedfor his help. And even if I had, what did I care what the old witch thought?
