tiny straw would do to grasp.
Quianna shook her head. “I don’t. And even if I did, I don’t think I’d tell either of you.”
Ronan sighed. “Qui, just tell us about the key. Let us deal with the morality of finding it.”
She looked at him, then at Ivy and shook her head. “I don’t think either one of you would know morality even if it hit you in the face.”
Ivy had to admit she was probably right, but she certainly didn’t like to hear it so simply stated. As if it was obvious just by looking at her. “Look, lady, you don’t know me, so keep your opinions about my character to yourself.”
Quianna frowned, then shrugged. “Fair enough.” She slid off the desk again and went around to slump into her high-backed leather chair. She spun it around to her bookcase, pulled out a huge black-encased tome and slammed it down on her desk. She flipped through the pages. Then, settling on one, she turned the book around and slid it toward them. “This is what the key looks like.”
Ivy and Ronan gazed down at the open book. On the left page was a pencil drawing of an elaborately decorated key, not unlike something from the past. A skeleton key. On the opposite page was a drawing of a plain wooden chest.
Quianna tapped the paper. “This chest supposedly holds the grimoire that King Solomon used to conjure his demons.”
“Where’s the chest?” Ronan asked.
“Nobody knows.”
“So essentially the key is useless unless you know where the chest is,” Ivy stated.
Quianna met her gaze, and there was something inside her cold gray eyes that sent a shiver down Ivy’s back. “Theoretically, yes.”
“Thanks for the info, Qui.” Ronan looked at Ivy. “Let’s go.”
Ivy nodded and followed Ronan to the door. Before they crossed the threshold, Quianna gave them a warning. “You don’t know what you are messing with, Ronan. You think you know what real evil looks like? You have no clue. Those who open the grimoire will be cursed for life.”
Both Ivy and Ronan looked over their shoulders at the professor. She’d risen from her chair and was staring after them with a look of determination on her thin pale face.
“Give the key to the cabal and you risk your immortal soul.”
“Too late,” Ronan said. “I lost it the night I was turned into a demon.” He swung back around and left the office.
Ivy watched him go, not fully realizing until this very moment how damaged he was from being turned into a cambion. She knew he struggled with it, but had no clue how much he loathed his very existence.
And now she understood his motives for wanting to find her brother. He was going to trade the key for something that would turn him back into a full-blooded human. She didn’t blame him for it. She’d likely do the exact same thing.
“He’s going to need your help, Ivy,” Quianna murmured. “At the end.”
“What? Have you seen the future?”
“Yes, actually, I have.”
Ivy frowned. “I’ve never met anyone with that ability before.”
“Yeah, well, now you have.” Quianna sat back in her chair and cocked one eyebrow at her. “Believe me, if I could turn it off, I would. The future isn’t looking too good. I can’t tell you more than that.”
Unnerved, Ivy nodded to Quianna, then walked out of the office to follow a man she was just beginning to understand but couldn’t be more confused about.
They didn’t talk as they made their way back to the truck. Ivy claimed the driver’s seat, and as they pulled out of the parking lot she glanced at Ronan. “Your friend is a bit intense.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but she knows a lot.”
“She may have a lot of information, but she doesn’t know everything.”
Ronan turned and looked at Ivy. She gave him a half smile. And right there he knew she’d accepted his apology and that they were back to being on an even keel.
He returned her smile, then looked out the side window. Quianna had been right about him, though. His morality would be in question if he gave the key to the cabal. He had heard rumors about the grimoire but never thought it was real. Just an old myth to scare people. And he admitted it worked. The thought of that book being in the hands of immoral beings like Reginald Watson frightened him to the core. But it wasn’t the book he was supposed to deliver, it was only the key. A key that was useless without something to unlock.
This was his one and only chance to be normal again. The cabal had a cure to his cambionism, a cure for the blood poisoning him every second of every day. Exchange the key for a cure. He’d do anything for that opportunity. He’d do anything to be human again, including stealing the key from Quinn Strom. They just had to find him first.
As Ivy pulled out onto the major highway that would lead them back toward his place, her cell phone jingled from her jacket pocket. She retrieved it and flipped it open. “Yeah?” While she listened, she nodded, then glanced at Ronan. It must’ve been the call they were waiting for.
“Okay, see you in a few.” She flipped the phone closed and slid it back into her pocket. “That was Jake. He has a lead. We’re going to meet him down in the Castro.”
“The Castro?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Didn’t ask. Don’t care.”
Ivy parked the truck on Market Street and they got out and walked up to Castro Street and to the historic Castro Theatre. Ronan normally didn’t visit the area, famed for its diverse gay community, but he had been to the theatre once before when they were playing the director’s cut of
He loved the look of the theatre—old-school movie going with elegance and extravagance. The chandelier in the main movie hall made him think of the nostalgic era of Hollywood when movie stars were untouchable, classy and cool. Not like today, he thought.
Ivy bought two tickets to the show at the round ticket booth out front and they went in. She nodded toward the left staircase. “He said he’d meet us on the balcony.”
As they ascended the stairs, Ronan said, “Seems like a strange place for a meeting.”
“It’s dark, it’s private and no one would ever think to look for us here. So I think it’s damn near perfect.”
He chuckled at that. She was right.
The balcony was empty save for one person near the overhang. As they approached, Ronan could see that Jake was a pretty big dude—bulging muscles under a tight black T-shirt and denim jeans. He looked like an army commando; he even had the buzz cut to go with it.
He lifted a hand to Ivy as they neared, then his face changed and he was rushing up the aisle with a knife in his hand, right toward Ronan.
Ivy must’ve noticed it the same time Ronan did, because she was jumping in front of Jake, her hands on his chest. “Wait. Stop.”
He pushed past her and reached for Ronan. But Ronan was faster and he jumped clear over two rows of seats and away from the bruiser.
“He’s a demon, Ivy.”
Ivy smacked him in the chest with the palm of her hand. “He’s not full-blooded. He’s a cambion. And he’s with me.”
Jake lowered his knife, but didn’t sheath it. “Never knew you to be soft toward the hellspawn.”
Ronan’s hands fisted. He had a violent urge to pummel the guy into the ground. Jake reminded Ronan of all the hunters he’d dealt with over the years. Arrogant and ignorant.
