<Then it’s only proper I join you—as your bondmate it’s very important I stay extra close to you, also. Are you bringing her meat? Should I bring her meat?>
<I’m not going over there to see Rags. In fact, I don’t need to go over there at all. This is all mage business. Monty is going to ask Cece to look at some runes—which, since I’m not a mage, I really can’t decipher.>
For a brief second he looked dejected—well, as dejected—as a gleaming, red—eyed, mouth-full-of-sharp fangs, hellhound could look. Until he found another angle.
<The mage is going to the cold girl?>
<I just said that. Are you still sleeping?>
<It may not be safe. Her power can escape her control. You can’t leave him alone.>
I saw where this was going.
<And you can’t leave me alone, on account of us being bondmates…right?>
<Exactly. See, your thinking is becoming elevators, too.>
<C’mon, then.>
We headed down the hallway and caught up with Monty knocking on Cece’s door. A young woman opened the door. She didn’t look a day over sixteen, and wore her black hair short and spiky. She gazed down at Peaches, unfazed, as she stepped to one side to let us in.
“What happened to the nanny?” I asked as the young woman placed her hands together and bowed in greeting. “Who’s this?”
“In light of the earlier events today, I’ve taken steps to contain our young ice mage in our absence,” Monty said, returning the bow. “This is Viana, of the White Phoenix, Quan’s apprentice.”
“Welcome, Mr. Montague, Mr. Strong,” Viana said as she turned and headed into the apartment. “You wish to see Cece?”
I returned the bow, slightly surprised Monty would place Cece with a teenager. Even if she was Quan’s apprentice.
“Please,” Monty said. “Only for a moment.”
“She’s in the back. Follow me, please.”
An intricate tattoo of interwoven designs, similar to Quan’s, covered half of her face. The subtle turquoise glow highlighting her tan skin was a clear indicator that the design possessed magical properties.
A simple, gray robe, tied at the waist with a white sash, covered her slight frame. The sash was interlinked with metal sections, which blended into the tail of a white phoenix. The design snaked itself around her waist, up over one shoulder and across her chest. Beneath the robe, she wore a black T-shirt, black jeans and a pair of black Chuck Taylors.
“She looks and dresses like some emo teenager,” I said, keeping my voice low as Viana led us into the apartment. “You couldn’t get Quan? So, we settled for teenage Quan lite?”
“Quan is otherwise occupied after the incident with the grail, and will be for some time,” Monty answered, giving me the stop being rude look. “Viana is the only one out of one hundred apprentices to pass Quan’s acceptance examination. She may look young, but she’s probably older than you.”
I shuddered at the word “examination” and looked at Viana with a newfound respect. Quan belonged to the White Phoenix: a sect, like Monty’s Golden Circle, that trained mages.
However, whereas the Golden Circle specialized in battlemages, the White Phoenix was a sect focused on healing, and training mages in the discipline of restorative arts.
I think Quan interned with the Elders at the Golden Circle at some point, because the restorative part of her discipline usually appeared after she did some serious ass-kicking. I learned pretty quickly that her being a healer didn’t mean she couldn’t fight. It only meant she knew where to hit you to break the delicate bits, before she healed the agony.
If Viana was Quan’s apprentice, it meant she was formidable. If Monty chose her to watch Cece, a Jotnar ice mage that had almost sent The Moscow into a deep freeze, then she was powerful.
But the real test would be if she could survive a hellhound’s greeting.
“She’s in the back room with her guardian,” Viana said, motioning with a hand. “Right that way.”
“Thank you,” Monty said. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Viana stood off to the side as Monty headed to the backroom.
<Are we letting the angry man go on alone? It may be dangerous.>
<You’re right, but let’s watch our manners first, yes?>
<I have. I haven’t bitten the bird girl in dark colors.>
<Don’t be rude. Say hello to Cece’s new nanny. Her name is Viana, and don’t forget to smile.>
<Are you sure? You said no one likes it when I smile.>
<Most people just don’t understand the depth of your smile. Try extra hard this time. Maybe she’ll make you a sausage?>
<Really? You think so?>
I nodded.
<Pretty positive. I mean, who can resist a hellhound smile?>
<I agree, but most people who see my smile, scream first, then run away.>
<It’s probably too much smile for them to handle. How often do people see a hellhound?>
<This is true. Frank says I’m a unique specimen.>
<For once, Frank and I agree on something. Go say hello. Don’t forget to add a bit of a growl.>
Peaches padded over to where Viana stood and bared his teeth in his most ferocious hellhound smile and growled at her.
TWENTY
Viana looked down and then gazed in my direction.
“Is he trying to say hello?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or is this the slowest attacking hellhound on the planet?”
“He’s trying to be friendly,” I said, impressed at her composure. “He doesn’t have the hang of it quite yet.”
“Miss Quan told me all about you,” Viana said, crouching down and scratching Peaches behind the ears. He folded like a cheap lawn chair. “I bet he’s hungry. Quan said he likes sausages. Do you want a sausage?”
Peaches gave off a low rumble in a perfect imitation of the Dark Goat’s engine.
<Tell her yes. Tell her my bondmate is starving me.>
<You keep lying, I’ll tell her to make you a healthy sausage.>
He turned to face me with a whine.
<Why do you want to break my stomach?>
“Can you communicate with him, really?” Viana asked. “That’s pretty awesome.”
“It only sounds awesome if your favorite topic is meat, trust me. Can you give him”—more whining—“…one sausage? That would be great.”
“I can make more
