Chapter Twelve

Graves withdrew his hand. "The bargain is struck."

"Then we'll begin today." Now that the hard part was over, she was eager to learn all that she could. What exactly were all of her interesting talents? Why could she walk through wards? What did it all mean?

Graves just slid his hands back into his pockets. "You can begin after you've slept."

She was tired. Yesterday had been... impossible. Between the heist that had gone all wrong, the chase, and fleeing to Nate, she was a wreck. It had been a full thirty-six hours since she'd had a second of shut-eye. But still... she wanted answers.

"Still kind of keyed up, to be honest," she told him. "I could start right now."

"Perhaps," he said, eyeing her up and down as if he didn't believe her. "But I need you to be clearheaded to begin your spear training. Take a few hours, and then meet Edgar in my training facility."

"And when will we begin magic training?"

"I have other business to attend to this day. I will show you to your living quarters. We can talk when I return." Graves pulled the door open for her.

She strode purposely toward it. "You already have a room set up for me?"

"Isolde prepared it while you were sitting on the Met steps."

She arched an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to be impressed that you tailed me?"

"You should be more cognizant of your surroundings."

The truth was that she'd felt eyes on her the second she left his place the night before. She wasn't sure if they had been him or the Druids or both. She'd felt them all but hadn't quite known what they meant until it was too late.

"Is this my first lesson?" she teased. "I know how to drop a tail."

"Not well enough, it seems." His eyes roamed her face as if he couldn't quite guess the game she was playing. He gestured to the hallway beyond.

"Ouch," she said, placing her hand on her heart. "Come on. You seem like the kind of guy where every interaction is a lesson." She backed out of the room as he strode toward her. "You could start with the obvious: What am I? What can I do?"

He didn't answer. Just began to walk down the hallway. "You know, you never once asked about the job."

"We're stealing a spear," she said. "You told me that."

"But nothing else."

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

She could steal anything from anyone. Even Graves, if she had to. The specifics of the job were unimportant. The least of her concerns. She suspected someone like Graves had a plan for what she was about to do. It would be like any other job. Just more likely to kill her.

"I wouldn't be overly confident," Graves said.

"I'm not. Overconfidence gets you killed. I'm as confident as I need to be. I'm a thief. Most people see it as a poor excuse for a talent, but I'm good at it. It's what you need. Why else would you hire me?"

Graves had no answer to that. His eyes slipped to hers again, assessing, maybe approving.

She matched his long strides as he led her to the giant staircase at the center of the home. They walked up two flights of stairs. She could have gotten lost, the house was so enormous. She was used to Colette's brothel. It was smaller than Graves's mansion by far but large enough to accommodate the women she housed within. All those bedrooms. All the workers. But this... No one else lived here. It was excess for the sake of excess.

"I have a few house ground rules."

"We already made our deal."

"This is for living in my home. My rooms are off-limits. Even from a little thief who knows how to break into them." He added explicitly, "Don't go into locked rooms."

Kierse's fingers itched to do just that. Telling a thief not to use their skills was tantamount to encouraging them to do so. Especially because now it made her wonder—what exactly did he have to hide?

He seemed to realize that as soon as it was said. "I've lived alone for a very long time, Miss McKenna. I value my privacy more than my possessions. I will give you privacy so long as you extend it to me as well."

"You ruin all my fun."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," she agreed.

He kept his eyes on her face as if trying to judge the weight of her conviction.

"Promise," she said with what she hoped sounded like sincerity.

"Good." Satisfied, he walked to the end of a hallway on the third floor. "This is your room."

"Truly, I'm not tired," she told him. It had been a long night, and she was weary but also hyped up from all that had happened. "Is the library available to me?"

"The library?" he asked, then nodded once. "You are free to read anything on the shelves."

"Maybe we could go there, then."

"Another time. If you're so eager to get started on your studies, then I will have books for you after training."

He reached for the doorknob, and she touched it at the same time. Their hands brushed, and even with his gloves on, she could feel the heat from him. He was much taller than her, and she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. Their bodies were close together, she realized, and she swallowed. She'd been playing up her wiles but somehow was ensnared in his gaze.

He retreated first. "You were chased and shot at and forced to leave your friends and family, your home. You are in shock. Though you hide it rather well. You need to sleep."

"Honestly, I'd rather you tell me more about myself."

"No new shocks."

"I'm not a delicate flower that you should fear crushing in your palm."

"No, you're delicate like a bomb."

She grinned like a wild creature. She liked that.

He took another step back as if she ruffled his carefully controlled exterior.

"Just one thing," she teased, arching an eyebrow.

"I see you won't be dissuaded. I will start with the most basic. Satisfactory?"

She nodded. She was surprised she had gotten him to bend when she'd been certain he was a mountain not to be swayed. Not that she wouldn't try.

"What you are is up for debate. We'll have to figure it out together. Though I have my suspicions. But what you can do is far more fascinating. As far as I have observed, you can nullify magic."

"What does that mean?"

"It appears that you have some sort of natural immunity. It's why you can walk through my wards like water. How deep or wide that goes is for us to discover."

"Immunity," she whispered as if overcome by a potent drug. "I am immune to magic."

"That is what I believe."

The words seared through her. She'd spent over a decade thinking monsters not magic, but now that she knew it existed—that against all odds, she had powers—well, immunity sounded incredibly useful. Especially if it had the implications she was considering.

"Am I immune to you?"

He stilled. His face was blank. "Yes."

Oh, he didn't like that. Walking through his wards and entering his residence without him knowing was one thing. A thing that he already didn't like. But his magic didn't work on her? That was life-altering.

He clicked the door to her new room open and gestured for her to enter. She did on a wave of shock and something like euphoria.

"How much magic is there in this world?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Have I been interacting with it my entire life and never known?"

"That is entirely possible," he admitted, his accent crisp. "Something we will discover together. Good day, Miss McKenna."

She watched him walk away, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. She should have let him go. But somehow, like there was a string between them, she felt a tug to stop him. Just once before he left again.

"Graves," she called.

He stilled in the darkened hallway and then faced her once more.

"Are there others who can do what I can do?" she asked, the only hopefully hopeless question she could. Maybe she had family. Maybe they were out there. They just didn't know about her.

"I have never met one in all my years," he said solemnly, almost... kindly.

She recoiled from the tenderness in his expression. As if she were naked before him.

She locked her jaw and returned her expression to neutral, refusing to let him see how affected she was. "And how long is that?"

Graves shook his head, walking away again, but she still heard his barely uttered, "A very, very long time."