Page 6 of Blue Embers
“You think there’s real tension?”
I thought back on the gala where Draak and humans were recently killed just so a rebel group could prove a point. My grip on the hot coffee mug tightened just slightly, but the observant Ms. Grant’s aqua eyes flicked briefly down at it as if she noticed.
“Sorry,” she said. “That was a stupid question. Especially after I just mentioned the attack. And I know you were part of the Draakir for a time. You must know things the general public doesn’t understand.”
“You’re very intuitive, Ms. Grant,” I said calmly, loosening my grip on the mug.
“Persephone,” she said. “Seph, actually. People tend to think my name is a mouthful.”
“Not at all,” I commented, relaxing forward on the table. “I think it’s quite elegant.”
“Flattery comes naturally to you.” She narrowed her eyes, more obviously this time. “Is it because people do things for you when you compliment them?”
I let out a chuckle, amused and taken aback by Persephone’s resistance.
“If I really want someone to do something for me, I usually don’t use words at all.”
Finally, I’d made the woman appear subtly nervous. She swallowed, her eyes dropping briefly before she picked up her confidence again and met my gaze with double the fortitude.
“I showed you mine,” she said in a sensual tone that rivaled my own. “So what is it you wanted to add to the exhibit?”
“A weapon,” I said. “Nothing too extravagant, but it’s a rare item nonetheless. It’s from Kumir.”
“A weapon from Kumir? What kind?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see the next time I come by,” I said with a wink. “I’ll bring it with me.”
“We open to the public in a matter of days, Mr...Killian. I’d advise you to--”
“I’ll bring it tomorrow morning,” I cut her off. “Along with a hazelnut latte.”
She paused, blinking with a bit of surprise. “Perfect,” she smiled. “I’ll find a place for it in the meantime.”
“And for the necklace,” I added, glancing at the pendant on the table.
3
Killian
. . .
I opted out of working in the lab that day once I’d left the city and returned home, doubting I’d find anything new on the bullet or the rebel movements since the previous day. Instead, I took to my bedroom, exchanging messages with Draven about other findings.
While I was studying anti-Draak weaponry and tracking the black market on my side, on Draven’s end, he, Lukan, and Draven’s mate, Everly, were searching for leads on Haera, the faceless figure they suspected was behind the resistance's new tech. Unfortunately, neither side had come up with anything substantial yet and the frustration was starting to widdle everyone down. The public wasn’t quite convinced a human group could be a threat to Draak defenses, but what the majority didn’t know was that a Zephyre might be involved. Things could get messy if we didn’t find something useful soon, but the Falcons were making any sort of progression difficult.
Once the sun was climbing over the ocean horizon the next day, I rose from my bed and threw on a teal shirt and a pair of dark jeans. In the glass display case by the bookshelf was a long, slender item wrapped in a black, silk cloth. I opened the glass door to the case and pulled the item out. It was heavy in my hand. I’d forgotten how the thing felt resting in my grip and, unraveling the string that bound the silk covering it, I revealed the object to take a good look at it for the first time in years.
In my hands was a bright, silver dagger the length of my forearm with a blue gem planted on the end of the hilt. Down the straight, narrow blade were veins of blue crystals like lightning bolts embedded in the metal. I stroked my thumb down the length, feeling the energy resonating from the aloy. Along the handle, rigid textures, like Dragon scales, gave the weapon a slightly rugged edge. I stared for a while, taking a deep breath as I wrapped it back up in its silk cocoon and headed downstairs.
Malisa had made the usual pot of coffee, which filled the house with a bold, rich aroma. I walked across the sitting area to the kitchen, pouring myself a cup in a silver travel mug while Malisa was pulling some English muffins from the toaster oven. On my way out, I grabbed one, spreading her homemade, orange marmalade over it, and kissed the curly mess of hair on the top of her head. She shooed me off with a grouchy grunt and I smiled with amusement all the way to the front door.
“Have fun at your reading group, love,” I said in my departure.
“Oh, Mr. Valentyne,” Malisa caught me. “Your new companion is coming by today. You have to be back before I leave.”
“Of course,” I said, disinterested.
Taking a bite of my small breakfast, I slipped into the driver’s seat of my car, setting the dagger down on the seat beside me. The rich sunlight from outside poured in as I backed out of the carport and headed into the city for the second time that week. It was appropriate, I supposed, seeing as the exhibit was close to opening, but some small part of me was also eager to spark another conversation with Persephone Grant.
