“Rules are rules,” Jude said. “And Arach is serious about them. I can’t go against her.”
Arach, the dragon spirit who had built this place, rarely showed up. But when she did, it was like getting hit in the face with raw power. I needed her approval to stay here. And boy, did I want to stay here with my sisters. Stay in this amazing castle where I could have a life doing good. Where I wasn’t hunted for what I was. And since the alternative was getting kicked out on my butt, alone, I had some really good motivation.
“If it’s so important to find this spell, could we ask the FireSouls for help?” I asked.
The FireSouls were our friends from years ago. Like us, they were hunted for their magic. Each FireSoul had inherited the soul of a dragon, and it allowed them to find anything of value. Treasure, basically. Dragons loved treasure. They could find this thing. They kept their true species a secret from most, but Jude knew what they were.
“He already asked,” she said. “They’re busy with an emergency.”
“Bigger than this?”
“Apparently.”
“Whew.” That had to be something. “But he knows them? And what they are?”
“No,” Jude said. “I asked for him. As soon as he came to me, I went to them to see if we could freelance their services. But it was a no-go. At least not at the moment.”
“We’ll find it,” I said. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll team up with Lachlan. And I’ll find that damned spell. Then will I graduate?”
“No.” She smiled. “But it’ll help.”
“Good.”
She squeezed my arm, a friendly gesture that warmed me. She was way too young to seem like a mom, but ever since we’d lost our mother, my sisters and I seemed to seek out motherly-type affection just about anywhere we could find it.
Not that I’d tell her that. Too weird.
“Thanks, Jude.”
“Good luck, Ana.”
I had a feeling I was going to need it.
Bree, Rowan, and I walked back to our apartments without talking. The Cats of Catastrophe followed along in silence. We passed through hallways and corridors, some done up in grand style and others as ancient-looking as if they had been in the thirteenth century.
We each had a tower apartment at the back of the massive castle, and Bree and Rowan followed me through the door into mine, up the winding staircase, and into the main entry room.
“You’re going to have to spill, you know,” Bree said.
“I know, I know.” I watched the Cats of Catastrophe saunter to my couch.
Muffin and Bojangles jumped right up to make themselves comfortable, but Princess Snowflake III knocked over a large pillow then leapt onto it, settling her fluffy white butt right onto the soft surface.
“I put my face on that sometimes, you know,” I said.
She just glared at me, green eyes glinting.
“All right, all right.” I raised my hands and turned toward the kitchen. The large round space was the living room, kitchen, and dining room in one, with a bedroom up above, accessed by an iron spiral staircase.
The whole apartment was decorated in beautiful, classy neutrals. It’d been an empty space when I’d first walked into it three months ago, but magic had allowed it to see into my psyche and had somehow decorated it in a manner to suit me.
Honestly, the classy look surprised me. I’d spent most of my life as a low-level outlaw, just trying to survive, or as a desert rat driving a monster truck across Death Valley, transporting criminals to Hider’s Haven, a place where they could hide out from the law.
The fact that the magical apartment thought I was all classy and crap was a surprise to me. I liked to paint, though, putting crazy splashes of color on canvas. For the first time in my life, these last three months at the Undercover Protectorate had given me the time and safety to work, and several of my paintings livened up the space. They weren’t great, but I liked them. And seeing my easel and paints set up on the other side of the room always gave me a warm little glow.
This was a real life here. One with a real home instead of a shack, and hobbies instead of constantly hiding. Friends instead of loneliness.
I wanted to keep this.
“Getting drinks?” Bree asked.
“Yeah.” I opened the fridge. “Champagne all right with you?”
“Pink kind?” Bree asked.
“Sure.” I grabbed a glass bottle full of pale pink liquid. It was cheap champagne—all of it was—but anything with bubbles suited me, and I wasn’t picky.
I popped the cork, poured some, and handed out the glasses.
Rowan glanced at the full couch, then at the table. “Better sit there.”
I glanced at the cats. All three of them looked up from licking their butts, and it was clear that they weren’t about to move. “Yeah, definitely.”
I sat and sipped my drink, enjoying the pop of bubbles on my tongue.
Rowan took a sip and cringed. “I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”
“Hey, hey, Miss Fancy Tastes, it’s not that bad.”
Bree sipped hers. “Yeah, I like it.”
“You only like it because it’s pink,” Rowan said.
Bree grinned widely, her teeth glinting in the light. “True enough.”
Bree was a hardcore badass, chewing up demons for breakfast and not even spitting out the bones. Which made her love of froufrou pink cocktails even funnier.
She turned to me, eyes going serious. “Now spill. I tried to listen in on your conversation with Lachlan, but he used some kind of blocking spell.”
My brows rose. “Really?”
Bree was the Valkyrie Dragon God, and as such, she’d been gifted with the powers of multiple Viking gods. One of those powers was incredible hearing, given to her by Heimdall, a Norse god.
If I ever got my act together and made my transition to Dragon God, some mysterious pantheon of ancient gods would give me their powers as well. Theoretically, at least.
“Spill,” Bree said.
I shook my head, realizing I’d drifted off a bit. “Sorry. Yeah. Well, I’m going to team up with him to solve this. He liked my theory that the spell was taken to Paris, and he thinks I’m interesting—dangerous, actually—so he wants to work with me.”
“Uh-oh,” Bree said. “I don’t like the sound of that. He looks dangerous.”
“He also looked kinda hot.” Rowan raised her brows at me, clearly waiting for me to agree.
I nodded. “Yeah. Mega hot.”
“Mega dangerous,” Bree said. “And cold. I could feel the self-control wafting off him.”
“You’re just in love with Cade, so you don’t have eyes for anyone else,” I said.
“She’s right about the self-control, though. That dude is tightly wound.”
I wouldn’t mind unwinding him.
No! Bad Ana! Down girl.
“Agreed.” I sipped, remembering the lethal strength coiled in his large body, and the dark knowing in his eyes. What he knew, I couldn’t quite pinpoint. But it made me want to shiver, and not because Bree and Rowan thought he was cold.
Far from it.
“Why Paris?” Bree asked.
“City of Lights, City of Invaders.” I explained the theory about the Romans. “But really, I just had a feeling. Something took me over and told me it was Paris.”
Rowan frowned. “Told you?”
“Yeah. It felt like magic, guys. Something I wasn’t in control of. It spoke in my mind, telling me to follow my instinct. I asked a question, and it answered.”
Bree leaned forward, eyes wide. “Is it your Dragon God powers coming to life?”
I touched the back of my neck, where a four-pointed star existed. I’d been born with the Mark of Power. All three of us had one, though we hid them with magic. If I hadn’t had the mark, I would have doubted I was a Dragon God. Was this it? Finally? “Maybe.”
Bree chewed her lip. “I bet it is. That’s how it happened with me.”
“So your new power is just knowing?” Rowan asked.
“Maybe? Prophecy or premonition or something.”
“That could be any pantheon,” Bree said.
But which one would choose me?
“You’ve got to learn to master your new power,” Bree said. “Control it. Or it will devour you. Body and mind.”