surface.
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“He’s probably at the Crooked Hat.”
“The Crooked Hat?”
“It’s a public house in the East End. Jonas lives there when he doesn’t stay here.”
“Okay, can you give me the address?”
“No problem, Ms. Fairfax.” So she did know who Roz was. The woman scribbled an address down on a notepad by her desk and handed the paper to her. She glanced at it before shoving it in her pocket. “But Mr. Lamont left orders that if you wanted to leave the building, then Carl would take you wherever you would like to go.”
“Carl?”
Didn’t she remember Tara mentioning a Carl? Wasn’t he a werewolf? She was almost tempted to let him take her just so she could meet him. She’d never met a werewolf before, and today would be her last chance. But she could do without being lumbered with a bodyguard she would no doubt have to lose at some point during the day.
“He’s head of security here. I’ll call him for you.”
Roz smiled. “No, don’t do that. I’d much rather take a cab.”
The woman opened her mouth but Roz didn’t wait for her to speak, just turned around and strode out of the building. She half-expected someone to stop her, but she was out on the street without anyone trying.
It was a gorgeous day and she tried not to think about the fact that it was her last. Instead, she headed off at a fast walk and managed to pick up a cab a couple of blocks down. She gave him the address of the Crooked Hat.
The journey took forty minutes, mainly because the traffic was so busy at this time of day. He finally let her out in a pretty rundown area—a mix of residential houses and small businesses. The Crooked Hat was a pub, with a sign over the door showing a wizard’s tall hat, slightly bent in the middle. The pub appeared no better than the rest of the area, the dark red paint peeling off the door.
She pushed through. For a moment, she stood just inside while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The place appeared deserted, but then someone moved behind the long bar that ran the full length of the far wall.
A young man, polishing glasses, glanced up as she approached. “We’re closed.” His tone was sullen, and Roz didn’t waste her time with a smile. Instead, she kept on coming until she came to a halt by the bar.
“I’m here to see Jonas,” she said.
“He’s not here.”
She reached out with her Seeker power and sensed the warlock’s presence somewhere close. “Yes, he is.”
“How…?” His mouth snapped shut, and he studied her for a moment. “You’re from the Order?”
”Yes.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but if it would get her a meeting with Jonas, she was quite willing to let the young man believe.
“He’s through the back.” The bartender waved toward a door in the wall opposite, but as she turned to look, the door opened and Jonas emerged. He approached with a slight frown on his face.
“Rosamund, how nice to see you here, but also a little…unexpected. You should have called; I would have met you at the Order.”
“I wanted to talk to you in private.”
He quirked one iron-gray brow. “You did? How intriguing. You’d better come through.”
She followed him back through the door and into a comfortable sitting area.
“Can I get you anything, coffee? A drink? You’re a little pale.”
She decided to get straight to the point. “Tara told me you sell spells. I’d like to buy a spell.”
He sat back in his chair and clasped his hands on his lap as he studied her. The silence stretched until she thought she would scream.
“What sort of spell?”
She shrugged. How was she supposed to know what sort of spells there were? “One that goes bang.”
“You want to blow something up?”
“I want to destroy something.” There was no other way. However hard she’d searched for alternatives—she failed to come up with anything that would keep the Key from the bad guys
“Something ordinary or something magical?” Jonas asked.
That one she could answer. “Magical.”
He studied her for a moment. “Is Piers aware you are here?”
“No, and I’d rather he didn’t know.”
“Will this endanger the Order?”
“No.” Well, she hoped not. If her plan worked, it would help the Order, though she supposed handing the Key over to Piers would help them more. But she’d already decided that wasn’t an option. “I can pay, whatever your price. I have money.”
“But I already have plenty of money.”
Damn. She was hoping he’d be motivated by greed. She didn’t know him well enough to guess at what else might persuade him to help her. “So what can I give you?”
“Blood.”
“Blood? You’re not a vampire, are you?”
He laughed. “No, I’m not a vampire. Many of my spells require power, and there is power in blood, especially fae blood that is given freely.”
“How much blood?” She needed to be able to function for the rest of the day, but so long as the amount wasn’t debilitating, he was welcome to her blood. She didn’t have much use for it herself.
“Little. You will hardly notice.”
That sounded almost too good to be true. “And can you do it? Can you make a spell?”
“I can. What you are asking for is relatively simple. Now you must tell me the details.”
…
Half an hour later, she had the spell in her pocket. She could feel the pulse of the magic. Jonas had bandaged her wrist afterward, but she could still feel the sting of the cut. He’d told the truth—he’d taken only a small bowl of her blood, whispering words of magic as it dripped from her wrist, drop by precious drop.
The phone rang. Jonas picked it up and listened. “Are you aware that Carl is parked outside?” he asked her afterward.
“No, but it doesn’t surprise me. Is there a back way out?”
He rose to his feet. “This way.”
He led her through a door at the back of the room. It opened into a narrow passageway and at the end, there was another door that led to the outside and an alleyway, presumably at the rear of the bar. She turned to him as he held the door.
“Will you tell Piers?”
“He will know you came here, but my work comes with a confidentiality clause. Besides, I only work for the Order; they don’t own me.”
“Good.”
“I’m thinking we won’t meet again. A pity—I would have liked to help you discover your powers.”
He studied her, his head cocked to one side. “I’m thinking that perhaps your death at this point is also not meant to be.”
“That would be inconvenient to my plans. I have to do this. I can’t see another way.”
“Well, good luck.”
And she walked away.
…
Ryan’s apartment was a pit. Did he never do any housework? She stood in the center of his living room and
