12. Sam

Chapter twelve

Sam

Ophelia glares at me when I groan again. I don't blame her. None of us want to be here, but here we are—with Pris on the phone, since she had to stay at her shop for a late appointment.

"You really don't know anyone who's good with tracking spells?" I ask. Yes, I sound like a sulky teenager, but I don't care. It's already seven, which means Kieran's gone back to work, and with each minute that passes, I'm missing out on spending time with Drew.

"No," Pris replies. Her voice comes out distant over the speaker. "You think if I did, I wouldn't have put you in touch with them when Tristan was running around?"

Ophelia raises a perfectly manicured brow in my direction. Dante seems blissfully unaware of the two of us, flipping through the book on his lap, but I know he's still listening. He's just got really good at ignoring us when needed.

"It's still not going to help us with the first problem," Ophelia points out. "We don't know who stole your magical signature, and finding Nora's relative isn't going to fix that."

I grunt in agreement. Pris and I talked about that briefly when I visited her earlier. Oh, I'm not a fool. I know that Ophelia and Dante know my magic is different from theirs. They're sharp enough, too, to know why.

I'm just not getting into the details.

"I'm looking," Pris says over the phone. "But I'm not going to have time to go through all my books until later. I'll send you what I find."

"I might have something," Dante says softly, and Ophelia and I turn to him. He shoots us a brief smile before he traces the page again. "Yeah. So, bad news."

"Bad news how?" I ask.

"Basically anyone could have done this. Well, maybe not a mundane human."

"Dante," Ophelia says, and there's only a slight edge to her voice. "What did you find?"

"Obsidian."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

Pris makes a sound and I glance down at the phone. "I never thought of that," she says.

"What about it?" I ask.

"Obsidian's usually used to protect against negative energy," Dante says, and Ophelia nods. "There's no reason it couldn't be used in a spell to absorb any magic—or a magical signature."

"Complicated," Pris says. "But it's possible. How would they activate the spell?"

"Spell bag. All the person would have to do is open it or break something—"

I shake my head. Tristan fed from Nora, and Kieran told me Adelaide was too strong, as well.

"What if they added fae magic to it somehow?" I ask.

Dante's eyes widen. "It'd make things easier."

"Makes sense. You've always got one heavy spell running, too," Pris says.

I sigh. "The wards." I can't drop them. I wouldn't feel safe doing it on a normal day, but considering everything that's happened recently? It would be downright dangerous.

There's been no one else near the wards who could have done it. I rub my temples. "That vampire…"

"Vampires don't have magic," Ophelia points out.

Yeah. Even if they had it in life, they don't have it once they've been turned. The death magic keeping them alive is too much for that. It pushes everything else out.

"But if a vampire was working with the fae, they might manage it?"

Pris is silent and Ophelia and Dante stare at me, stunned.

Dante recovers the fastest. "But there aren't any—"

"We both know that's not true."

He frowns, looking back down at his book.

"Well, if it's fae, we're fucked," Ophelia says, and Pris hums her agreement over the line.

"Messing around seems like something they'd do," Pris says. "But this feels… personal."

I have to agree with her there. And despite everything that's happened, I can't understand why a fae would choose to target me now. Even pitting us all against each other wasn't necessarily about us as much as it was about Jasper and his stupid greed.

"A fae-blessed mage, then?" I ask. "Do you think they'd have the power to do it?" It's certainly not something I know how to do.

Pris' words are careful. "Theoretically, yes. They can shape magic to do almost anything they'd like, if they're controlled enough."

Of course, that's not helpful, either.

There aren't many of us left. Any of us, I'd have said a few months ago because it's not like I've come across one in almost fifteen years.

But the signature that was like Nora's wasn't the one that killed her. And why leave it behind at all if they're using my magic?

A door opens and closes in the background of Pris' call. "Look, I've got to go," she says. "Call me in a couple of hours if you still need anything."

She hangs up and I'm left in silence with Ophelia and Dante. Oh, they're putting two and two together. I know that. I don't have much energy to care about it right now.

"Do you think Lark would be able to help us?" I ask Dante, and he shakes his head firmly.

Right, okay.

"Sam…" Ophelia says. She doesn't wilt under my sharp look. "Why would a vampire want to frame you for murder?"

It's a good question. Just to cause trouble? "I don't know. It's not like some of them even believed it." Had he bet on me not coming in? Or had it all been a distraction from something else?

"The best clue we have right now is the other signature," I say. "Whoever that is, they can probably teleport, but they can't have gone far. It takes a lot of power, and they must've teleported in and out again."

Ophelia nods. We've got a map spread out on the floor between us, with the Council building, the clan house, and Deacon's pack house all marked out.

"What kind of radius are we talking?" she asks.

"I'm not certain," I reply. It's not like I can teleport, after all.

It's not like the Lyttons can bind magic, either, so fair is fair.

Ophelia marks Kieran's and my flat on the map, then points between that and the Council building. "I'll call my dad," she says. "See if he's got any tips for dowsing or something like that. We'll start with the area that's between your flat and the Council building and go from there."

"Thanks." I look up at the windows. It's dark out, and there's little more to be done here. "I'm gonna go. Call me if you find anything? Or if you need me?"

Ophelia nods. "Be safe."

I'm careful, on the way home, to stick to public, well-lit places. I can't feel any magic that's out of place, but considering there could be a vampire out there with a limited ability to perform magic of their own, I'm not taking any chances.

I need to hunt tonight, I realise. It's only been a day since Nora died, which means the other Lytton mage will still have left a findable trail. Sure, I can't follow their teleportation, but if they're in the kind of radius Ophelia expects, then I can try from there.

I can pick it up from the clan house, too. If they teleported in and back out again… They'll be tired. I saw the way teleportation took it out of Nora. It's big magic, powerful, which means it'll require a lot of control.

When I let myself into the flat, my heart settles as I find Drew sitting on the sofa. He smiles when he sees me, big and honest, and my stomach flutters.

Whatever it is he's hiding, I can't imagine it's all that bad. That he's all that bad.

It's why I should convince him to stay away from me.

I don't act on that thought, though. Instead, I kick off my shoes and drop onto the sofa, our thighs brushing. Drew pauses the show he's watching—some other romantic regency thing.

Another reminder that I shouldn't let him too close. I shouldn't hurt him.

He wants something sweet and romantic and safe—

"How did it go?" he asks, and his voice sends a shiver up my spine.

"We've got a lead," I say. "But who knows if we're on the right track."

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. Drew's thigh pushes harder against mine, and I feel the warmth of him, like he's edged closer.

"Thank you for earlier," he says.

I turn my head and he's so close that I'm certain my heart stops for a minute.

Not close enough.

"For… for what?"

"For letting me come out with you," Drew says. Fuck, he means it, and all we did was walk to the tube station! I need to talk to Kieran about that. It might be safer to keep Drew inside—especially with a potentially psychotic vampire running around—but that doesn't mean it's good for him.

"Drew, we're not keeping you prisoner here," I reply. "You don't have to—We shouldn't—"

He leans in and his lips brush my cheek. I swear to all the gods, my heart stops , my next breath coming out as a soft gasp.

When he leans back again, his dark eyes study my face. Fuck, I want to kiss him. I want to shove him down on this sofa—because I know he'd let me, even though he's twice my size—and make him feel so good nothing bad could ever touch him again.

Adam's face swims into my mind and heat floods my face.

I can't have both of them. I can't—It's not fair. On either of them. On me.

I reach out and squeeze his wrist because I don't want him to think the gesture was entirely unwelcome, even if it should have been, and get to my feet. The light in Drew's eyes dims a little, but it sparks again at my next words.

"You, uh… You said you wanted to see my paintings, right?"

The smile that unfurls across his face threatens to destroy me with how honest it is.

Ah, gods. I'm totally fucked.