Page 10 of Poison Sun

Now here I am, slumped at a table in a corner of the hostel’s bar, my frustration simmering like a pot about to boil.

Where could I have missed a clue?

The library at the edge of town? The gift shop with a few shelves of books in the back? The new age store down that winding alley?

As I’m about to take another sip of my drink, a shadow looms over my table.

And then, with a suddenness that makes me jump in my seat, a book lands with a thump on the surface.

Brown leather binding. Worn, yellowed pages.

The book.

How in the world…?

I jerk my head up and freeze. Because a guy a few years older than I am towers over me. And those fiery eyes—the ones that have been etched into my mind since I saw them floating in my blood—lock on mine, flickering with unreadable emotion as they soak in the sight of me.

Slowly, breathlessly, I take in the rest of his appearance. He’s casually dressed, his hair is a tangle of dark curls, and there’s a ruggedness to him that suggests he’s no stranger to the outdoors. But it’s those eyes, fierce and bright, that mark him as someone extraordinary.

Someone not to be messed with.

“I think you’re looking for this,” he says, and with as much confidence as when he plopped the book down on the table, he takes the seat across from me.

I blink, struggling to find my voice. “How did you?—?”

“You’ve made quite the stir in Zermatt, searching for this thing with such single-minded determination.” He smiles, both mysterious and amused. “I couldn’t help but take notice.”

His voice is smooth and calm, with a slight accent common for people in this region, even though his English is basically flawless.

“My name’s Blaze,” he introduces himself. “I’m also a witch.”

My eyes dart around the room, making sure no one’s listening. Thankfully, everyone at this hostel is either drunk, telling animated stories to each other, or hanging out with groups of backpackers near the center bar.

Besides, if anyone overhears, I can just use my fire magic to hypnotize them and make them forget all about it.

“Nice to meet you, Blaze,” I say, my heart beating at a million miles a minute. “Your parents have an interesting sense of humor, since, you know, we have fire magic and your name is Blaze. Like flames…”

I stop talking, my cheeks heating at the realization that I’m rambling.

“I’d ask your name, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve been introducing yourself around town,” he says once I’m done, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Unless you like keeping secrets, Morgan?”

I freeze, since he’s right. I do keep secrets. It comes with the territory of being a blood witch.

But he’s waiting for a reply.

The longer I wait, the more suspicious it will look.

“I don’t like keeping secrets,” I say truthfully. “And I haven’t been lying about my name.”

Although, now that he’s mentioned it, maybe I should have.

“I didn’t think so.” He sits back, as if we’re old friends, and studies me with an intensity that takes my breath away. “I wouldn’t have come here with this old thing if I didn’t trust you.”

I search his eyes for any sign of deceit or hidden motives, but all I find is honesty. An openness I hadn’t anticipated.

But I didn’t come here to make friends.

I came here to get a job done.

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