Outside the windows, the sky was turning orange around the edges. She wondered where Cosimo had gone. She hadn’t expected him to simply vanish like that. That wasn’t fair. They had unfinished business. It wasn’t just her curiosity that needed satisfaction. She still owed him for his help in obtaining the stone. As much as he insisted she needn’t pay him, because she’d agreed to lend him the stone to perform his own ritual, she wasn’t comfortable with that arrangement. She didn’t enjoy accepting help from supernatural strangers without animmediateclearance of the debt. It was her experience that one-sided transactions were most often proffered by two-faced perpetrators. And as much as she didn’t wish to be prejudiced, because she knew Cosimo hadn’t chosen to be a vampire, she couldn’t help her creeping feelings of unease. She didn’t like being indebted. When she thought of him, wariness and desire twined around each other like twin snakes.
One thing she knew for sure, however: There was something very different about Cosimo. He was a different breed than all the other vampires she’d encountered, and there had been plenty. He was mature. Wiser. So much more in control of himself. And he was infuriatingly immune to her charms.
Perhaps that was why she was so attracted to him. Hadn’t she fallen for every handsome professor in college and at the academy? Her friend Maida had teased her about this. Zani knew she was a cliche. It was so much easier to be attracted to men she couldn’t have than the ones who would try to tether her and force her to settle down.
She finished filling out the menu and ran a hand over the lead-lined case to check the wards one more time before allowing her eyes to fall half closed. But she resisted falling asleep entirely. She couldn’t risk it. She’d need that coffee soon if she was going to stay awake until she reached Boston and the safety of the Arcana Archives in Primrose Court.
She pressed her cheek against the cool glass of the window, listening to the rhythmic clacking of the train as it carried her farther and farther away from that cursed village and its awful bloodlust economy. She could picture the shadows lifting there as the sun rose over the castle, the dawn of a new day and a new era for the Ordinary residents. They would need time to realize it, but the village had so much potential now that it was released from the grip of the preternatural plague. She’d send word to the Society for the Protection of Natural Magic to keep watch over them.
The Society would also be interested in the bloodstone’s recovery. This was big news. It had eluded them for almost fifty years, since it had last disappeared. And though no one was entirely certain about its origin or its use, everyone could agree on one thing. Namely, that it was one of the most powerful and cursed objects at large in the modern magical world. This made it dangerous. There was even a modest fund set aside by the Society to be used as a bounty for its recovery and return to the Archives.
She didn’t really care about the money, though. She cared about making the world a safer place. Perhaps in that regard, the apple hadn’t fallen that far from the tree. And although her aunt didn’t respect her or her chosen profession, surely her family would manage to scrape up some small scrap of appreciation to her for recovering the bloodstone. After all, it was Minodaura’s wards that were breached the last time the stone was stolen from the Arcane Archives.
A part of her couldn’t wait to tell her Auntie Minodaura about her conquest. Not just to “stick it to her.” She wanted to prove her chosen profession had value as well. Surely her family would have to respect her now that she had recovered such a precious, notorious artifact?
Not that she would ever admit to caring about what her aunt and cousins thought. If they wanted to be housebound hermits who spent all their time crafting charms and perfecting wards, far be it from her to tell them to leave their basements once in a while.
But itdidirk her how her own relatives looked down their noses at her “fortune hunting” trade. No matter how many lost grimoires she saved and cursed objects she collected, they treated her like some kind of dangerous renegade. As if her globetrotting activities were sure to end in misfortune and ruin the reputation of their entire coven. They all followed Minodaura’s lead, and as far as her great-aunt was concerned, Zani was a disgrace.
So be it. Zani was far more willing to take her chances with thugs at the Ordinary markets and ghosts in dusty dungeons than risk the slow, soul-crushing death of a desk job. She enjoyed nothing more than the thrill of unearthing a significant artifact, even if it meant dusting a few vampires. And she was good at it, too.
She preferred the thought of death by misadventure to the thought of having her spirit broken in an over-warded fortress presided over by her aunties.
A uniformed attendant poked his head into the cabin to retrieve the order sheet. He raised his brows at the number of items checked off.
“You are traveling with friends?” he asked.
“No. It’s all for me.” Zani grinned, her stomach rumbling audibly. The attendant scratched his head and muttered something before stuffing the order in his valise and retreating.
Zani smiled now as she let her mind wander to thoughts of seeing her friends in Primrose Court. There was so much to catch up on. Especially with her college roommate, Maida. Zani wasn’t returning to the same places and people she’d last seen, she knew. Her friend’s worlds had changed as radically as her own in recent years, and with Maida, perhaps even more.
For this reason, Zani intended to stay the week at her friend’s magical home–the Mudpuddle Mansion in Primrose Court. It would give her the chance to decompress and plan her next adventure. It seemed like the perfect transition. Much better than staying with her aunts on Long Island. She could help with the Mudpuddle Bookstore and Cafe. And when it was time to leave, Maida wouldn’t start inventing reasons for her to stay, like her Aunt Minodaura surely would.
Suddenly Zani felt like the train couldn’t carry her there fast enough. She wished she could have used some of her magic to speed the journey, but she didn’t dare to risk it. The stone might be volatile. Using nontrivial magic around it might have unpredictable effects. Aside from the wards, she was loath to cast or conjure in its presence.
She placed a hand on the case. It felt warm, and vibrated with a slight hum. Zani heard a shrill whistle outside, and the train lurched forward and swayed, like a runner whose heel got caught in the starting blocks. She wrapped her arms protectively around the case in order to prevent it from sliding off the table. It collided with her chest, the weight of it stealing her breath and bruising her.
“Snail’s Scum!” Zani muttered under her breath as the train whistle blew again and the train lurched once more.
The case was still warm and thrumming as if it had a heartbeat. She felt uneasy as the train whistle sounded a third time and the sky outside darkened. Wind whipped the trees as they traveled past the squall, and hail pelted the windows.
“It’s just a storm,” Zani muttered to herself and no one else in particular. Though she felt almost as if she were comforting a child as she hugged the heavy case to her breast.
A massive shudder shook the case from the inside. Simultaneously, the train’s wheels seemed to stick again. This time, she saw a bright flash of lightning and heard a sharp crack, followed by the screeching sound of brakes. The lights in the cabin flickered out, pitching the compartment into darkness. Despite the earlier promise of sunrise, it was now almost as dark as night outside as the storm raged. She didn’t think they were near the seaside, but she could hear the crash of waves. Rivulets of water ran down the glass windowpanes.
In the reflection of the dark window, Zani glimpsed herself. She was stunned to see her hair floating all around her head, almost as if she were floating underwater. The case glowed, an eerie blue-green, casting watery shadows on the walls and ceiling.
The train jerked to a stop and Zani immediately heard the shouts of outraged passengers farther down the train corridor. Someone threw their door open, called for the attendant, and demanded to know what was going on. But the lights flickering back on and an announcement over the loudspeakers immediately silenced the passengers.
“Mesdames et Messieurs, we apologize for the unplanned stop. We were not aware of the storm in the area and it appears the tracks were hit by lightning. Fortunately, the storm is passing, and we have been informed that it is safe to proceed.”
With this, the train cranked back into motion, lurching forward slowly at first, then coming back up to speed, resuming its smooth and steady rhythm.
“What the devil?” Zani heard a man exclaim as he strode past.
“I told you we should have flown,” complained his female companion.
“Not to worry,” the conductor reassured them. “You are perfectly safe. Please return to your compartment. We will serve breakfast shortly.”
