Page 55 of Poison Sun

I flinch back in surprise, call back my fire, and exchange a wary look with Blaze.

The Kobold isn’t making any other moves to attack. But this could be a trick. So, while I hold back my fire, I keep it flickering beneath the surface of my skin, ready for anything.

Blaze locks eyes with the Kobold and takes a protective step toward me.

“What do you mean?” he asks the monster, keeping his stance defensive.

The Kobold’s grin widens, revealing his sharp, jagged teeth again.

He really likes showing off his teeth.

“I’m not without mercy,” he says, although from the looks of his beastly form, he has to know that’s hardly the logical conclusion. “So, I’m offering you a choice for another type of toll. A magical object of your choosing, or your deepest secret that the other doesn’t know. And as a warning, don’t lie about which secret is your deepest. I’ll be able to tell if you are. And, because I’m having a good day—and because you make an interesting pair—I’ll accept one of either token as passage for both of you. A generous deal, is it not?”

My stomach bottoms out.

My deepest secret that Blaze doesn’t know is that I’m a blood witch.

I’m not willing to share that one. Not yet, and possibly not ever.

So, what am I willing to give?

“If you choose to share a secret, I won’t tell it to anyone,” the Kobold says in a way I think is meant to be reassuring. “I simply get pleasure from learning it—and from knowing that I forced someone to share a secret with someone else. There’s not much else around here to keep me entertained all day.”

You seemed pretty tight on time while we were working on that riddle, I think, although I bite back the comment, reminding myself to not poke the beast.

I have more important things to worry about right now.

A magical object.

My deepest secret isn’t an option, so it has to be a magical object.

I have the Wraithmist Flask—the one the Shadow Lord used to make the shadow souls invisible so they could invade the Fairmont. The one Gwen and Benjamin—two of the vampires in the Blood Coven—had in their possession before it “mysteriously” ended up in the hands of the Shadow Lord.

But my visions have hinted, with their usual cryptic nature, that the flask might come in handy later.

I glance at Blaze, ready to ask his thoughts, but he purposefully avoids my gaze.

What’s he thinking?

What’s he planning?

His hand drifts toward his pack.

The book. That’s where we’re keeping the book.

We need the book.

I can’t let him hand it over.

Without a second to spare, I reach into my own pack, pluck the teardrop-shaped flask from it, and thrust it in front of the Kobold.

“We’ll give you this,” I tell him, my hands shaking, the flask’s silvery sheen glimmering in the light. “The Wraithmist Flask.”

The Kobold tilts his head in curiosity. Then, just when I think he might say no, he takes the flask—which is incredibly tiny in his large hand—and studies it.

“It was forged by witches centuries ago,” I explain, in case he doesn’t know what it is. “When uncorked, it releases a vapor that makes the user—and anyone nearby who they want to affect—invisible and intangible.”

The Kobold holds it up to the light, continuing to study it. “Interesting,” he finally says. “Tell me more.”

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