Page 85 of Love the Way You Lion
Luckily for both of us, Twist shows up right as I’m about to go nuclear in the middle of London.
I sigh in relief as he scampers onto the table, the tiniest camera in existence strapped just behind his head. Opening the app on myphone, I feed my friend fruit while I go over the footage from his journey. He’d infiltrated easily enough, and I’m surprised to find that the angles are excellent and the camera moving steadily through every nook and cranny of the shop.
A brilliant little shit—no wonder Mercury gave him to me.
There are bookshelves full of the usual occult authors lining the walls at the front of the store and displays of cheesy wanna-be Wiccan playthings. Nothing dangerous so far. There’s a checkout area and a definite ‘mystical’ décor. Then he skitters under a curtain and the entire aura of the store changes, even through the lens of the camera.
The back half of the store looks crammed to the brim with real supplies, books, and displays with parchment signs with handwritten pricing. This is the actual business, and it’s the moneymaker for certain. I can see lists on the wall of spells, hexes, and charms that can be purchased—these have digital displays as if the pricing changes based on availability of supplies or popularity. Scales and measuring equipment line one set of counters and locked glass cabinets with various objects that I can’t make out. Those are dangerous items, and I’d bet a Benjamin that they have security hexes on them. He tours the entire area, and I frown, noting that the interior is far larger than I’d thought. It will be hard to get through without some kind of alarm going off.
I sigh, tapping my fingernail against my teeth. I may have to go under or over to get in. That complicates things immeasurably. I know I can’t pop in, and Clea is not a fool. No doubt she’s placed magick sensors, checkpoints, and aura reading objects linked to her powers throughout the building. I sure as fuck would.
Going under is officially off the table. I’d barely found my way through the mazes of underground tunnels before I gave away my position. Glamours are also out of the question—that would beamateur hour. I have no choice but to come in from above and pray that she hasn’t put a net over her building as I did with the Resistance Quarter.
Goddamnit.
I fucking hate heights when I’m not filled with rage or challenging someone.
Twist’s camera finally approaches a stairway that winds both up and down, looking like it might lead to a medieval tower.
I snort.Again, with the on the nose shit.
Clea’s parents are professors at the college in what used to be our hometown. Her mother works in the English department with mine, her focus being on mythology and folklore, and her father is the head of the archaeology department. That explains her name and all the trinkets she’s got ahold of. Their professions also explain how she could move around the world at will, following them on digs, lecture circuits, and guest teaching positions.
They are sweet, hippie-dippy academics who never could understand why we didn’t get along when our parents were such good friends. Their daughter being a goddamn psychopath had completely escaped their notice, I suppose.
The ferret cam scurries up the stone steps and finally emerges on the roof. My hand flies to my mouth as I take in the scenery, envy coursing through my veins. The rooftop is a lush rainforest of plants and flowers, most of which are definitely not native to England. There’s a sitting area, a sacred space, a fountain, and I shit you not, beehives. I can see animals, reptiles, and birds running around as he skillfully avoids detection.
That bitch made her own fucking Garden of Eden on a London rooftop, and if I didn’t hate her before, I most definitely fucking hate her now.
“Twist, does this video show any objects that might anchor a field like we have at home?”
He shakes his tiny head and waves a paw at my screen. I watch him move along the side of the garden, inspecting every corner. She probably has an enchantment to protect her space, but there’s not a magickal barrier to keep people out. I’d bet Argus sleeps in the garden at night and that’s security enough for Clea.
When the camera moves again, I can see Clea sitting with the pudgy man from yesterday near the fountain. It doesn’t have audio, so I can’t hear what they are discussing, but the little man looks distraught and she seems to comfort him. Perhaps he is one species that has difficulty reproducing; she is considering taking on his case. Not all extranormals have an easy time doing so in the human world since magick is no longer as prevalent.
I’m shocked to see that she looks different from what she did in our last encounter. It might be a costume—Clea has always loved dressing for the occasion—that she dons for particular clients to project the image she needs to calm their nerves. Her ebony skin is shining in the sunlight, but her hair is a mass of natural waves and tiny braids, the silver and gold threads in them catching the light as she moves. She’s wearing a colorful, filmy dress that’s almost a caftan, and she’s barefoot.
She’s the very picture of a fertility goddess of old, and I decide she is still playing her old games with people.
The man gets up and sticks a stubby hand out, but she laughs and leans in to hug him. Whatever she whispers in his ear seems to calm him, and she turns to lead him back into the shop. Argus stands and stretches, looking around curiously for a moment, his eyes glittering as he sniffs, but he turns to lope behind them.
He almost found Twist. If the wind had shifted, he might have sensed him and gone on the hunt. It was too close by far.
After they leave, the camera jerks and shakes as Twist leaps and bounds across the garden and over to the nearest roof to make his escape outside of the wolf’s den.
I sigh, clicking the app closed. That’s the route I will have to take to get the drop on Clea. Fuck me sideways. It’s a good thing I’ve been honing those gymnastics skills in training or I’d be in serious trouble.
“Well, little guy, I think we’re done for today. I have to go home and meet my mate, and I’m starving. I need a bite or five before I can figure out how I’m going to get in there. You did a superb job, my darling.” My eyes twinkle and I whisper, “Just for that, steal anything you like from the bird tonight and I’ll cover for you.”
He chitters happily, and I disapparate us both from the cafe, musing about how I get in and then once I do, what in the fuck I’m going to say to convince my lifelong nemesis to do me a favor.
Nothing like reality to turn an entire day to shit.
Sneakingonto the roof ofDestinyand back off again without triggering any alarms is my test to ensure that I won’t have to murder my old enemy again before I can ask for help.
Dressed in a black catsuit that I bought specifically to torture Taurus with, boots, and a stocking cap to cover the beacon that is my hair, I make my way to the southwest corner of an adjoining building. I picked it because the offices inside were all such that I couldn’t imagine them having cleaning staff or nighttime visitors, which meant I could apparate inside and use the elevator. Stairs area pain in the ass when you go this high, and I have no desire to be sore when I get to the top.
I open the door and slip onto the gravel with light feet, creeping to the edge to look at the gap between the buildings. It’s manageable with the right skill set, and I’ve been practicing. I pull the grappling hook gun off of my belt, feeling like I’ve stepped into a spy movie. Humming the Bond theme song under my breath, I squeeze the trigger, watching the hook fly and catch at exactly the right spot.
