Wicked Dreams by M.J. Scott

Author:M.J. Scott [Scott, M.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780645294804
Publisher: emscott enterprises

Chapter Thirteen

"Entertain itself with the humans."

Cerridwen's words played in my mind regularly over the next few days, and my stomach twisted every time the newsfeed notification I'd set on my datapad pinged. I had it hunting for any unusual occurrences in the city, but so far, nothing it found seemed supernatural in origin.

Otherwise, life continued as usual. Or as usual it could be with the addition of learning to use a sword from a man who could turn into a giant dog.

Cassandra and the Cestis were on alert, too, but so far, nothing noteworthy had happened other than Zee arriving home early. He turned up at the apartment, looking tired and travel-stained, just before dinner the day after Callum had revealed his shapeshifting ability. One look at the happiness lighting Lizzie's face at the sight of him made me announce that I was off to Damon's to spend the night.

I hadn't been back to the apartment since. I talked to Lizzie a few times, but she'd been tight-lipped about Zee, and I hadn't pressed for more detail.

At least, not with Lizzie. Now that Zee was back, he'd suggested we start up our lessons in illusions again. Which was why I was back at the Archives to meet him. Maybe he'd give me a clue as to where their relationship stood.

Though he wasn't the chattiest man in the world, so I didn't really rate my chances.

When I passed through the final door into the Archives, Zee was sitting at one of the long tables, his datapad in front of him. Next to him sat Trick, another of the witches who sometimes worked for the Cestis. In his case, "sometimes" was nearly all the time. A small leather-bound book lay open on the table in front of him, but he and Zee were laughing, not reading.

Cassandra was upstairs doing something involving bundles of herbs and several large pans simmering on her stove. She'd buzzed me in but left me to go down to the Archives by myself.

I joined the boys at the table. "Hey, guys. Doing anything fun?"

Trick snorted. "Just reading about ways to heal an afrit bite." He shook his head, which made the many small hoops in his ears chime, and ran his ring-laden hand over his short blue hair. Tall and gangly, he looked kind of like a biker had a baby with a spider monkey rather than a badass witch, his wardrobe running heavily to black denim and leather. Zee, who was slightly shorter but built, looked more dangerous even though he wore an aging Righteous Rocks T-shirt in a shade of screaming orange that suited his dark skin and eyes perfectly, long cargo shorts, and battered white sneakers.

Truth was, they were both men who it would be best not to tangle with if you came to the Cestis's attention for the wrong kinds of reasons.

"Big demand for that, is there?" I asked. Afrits were smaller, dumber imps. Used mostly to spy or steal or sometimes to torment a victim with sounds and visions like a souped-up evil mosquito.

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