Silver-Tongued Devil (44 page)

Rhea cleared her throat. “Yes, well, now that that’s settled, we’ll expect daily reports on your progress.”

I dragged my eyes from Adam and nodded. “Of course.” I turned to grab my coat from where I’d left it on the altar.

Gasps echoed through the chapel. I paused and looked over my shoulder. Shocked stares greeted me. A cold chill passed over me. What the hell?

“Slap me on the ass and call me Dionysus!” Giguhl exclaimed. I looked up at Adam, whose mouth had fallen open. He approached me slowly, as if I might disappear. He and Giguhl reached me at the same time.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. I craned my neck to look at the spot on my back where everyone was pointing, but Adam and Giguhl both yelled at me to stay still. Warm fingertips and a pointy claw prodded the skin of my left shoulder blade. “Guys?”

“Holy shit, Red,” Adam said. “What the hell happened to you in the Liminal?”

I frowned. Hadn’t we gone over this? “Wha—”

“You’ve got two birthmarks now!” Giguhl said, drowning out my question. I stilled, a chill spreading across my skin. A vague memory of the chaotic seconds surrounding Maisie’s death flashed through my memory. The searing pain when the orb rotated around my body.

Rhea ran toward us then. “Oh, my gods,” she breathed. “Sabina!”

I turned to her, accepting the embrace she offered. “This is a sign,” she said.

“You and your signs,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

The air tingled with magic as Rhea summoned a mirror for me to use. I glanced back into the surface to see what they’d seen. My breath left me in a sudden rush.

Identical eight-point stars now scored both my shoulders. Is this what Phoebe had meant when she said that Maisie would always be with me? Had this birthmark been my sister’s parting gift? Or was it just some other fucking arcane symbol I wasn’t supposed to understand yet?

“What does it mean?” Giguhl asked.

I shook my head. My throat felt tight, but hope bloomed in my chest. The skin under the star felt hot, like a healing wound. I paused. It didn’t really matter what it meant to anyone else, I guess. Because I chose to see it as a positive sign. A totem, a good luck charm. Proof that even though she couldn’t be there in person, Maisie would always have my back.

“Whatever it means,” Rhea said, her voice hoarse, “it’s got to be a good omen.”

I met her gaze and smiled. Finally, a reason to hope.

Adam cleared his throat and tried to covertly wipe the wetness from beneath his eyes. “The sun’s going down so we probably need to motor,” he said in a gruff tone. “Aunt Rhea, can you call ahead to Zenobia and let her know we’re coming?”

“Absolutely,” Rhea said. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you all again.”

Zenobia. Gods, I never thought I’d be seeing her again so soon. I definitely didn’t think that when I did it would be under such dire circumstances. “I don’t plan on being in New Orleans long,” I said. “But we could probably use any supplies she can offer.”

I saw Giguhl tense. Most likely at the prospect of seeing Pussy Willow again. But before we could deal with the ramifications of going to the Big Easy again, we had to begin the tough process of leaving New York.

“You guys ready?” Adam asked.

I grabbed Rhea in a tight, hard hug. “You be careful,” she whispered. “Check in as often as you can.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “I promise.”

“And, Sabina?” She pulled back with her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t doubt yourself. You’re ready for this.”

“You don’t know—”

“Hush now,” she said gruffly. “Don’t question your elders.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With that, she released me and said her good-byes to her nephew. When she turned to Giguhl, she said, “You take care of them for me or I’ll whip your scaly hide.”

Giguhl chuckled and lifted the elder mage into an undignified hug. “You bet your sweet ass.”

All around the room, awkward glances and sniffles punctuated the tension of the impending farewell.

Finally, Giguhl released Rhea. Turning toward Adam and me, the demon clapped his claws and rubbed them together. “All righty, let’s get this quest under way already.”

I smiled up at him. “Quest?”

He shrugged. “Sure, isn’t that what you call it when someone rides off into the sunset to meet her destiny?”

I shook my head at the demon. “You’ve been watching too much TV again.”

“All right, you two.” Adam’s upbeat tone was forced, and his red-rimmed eyes hinted at how much he was hiding. “Circle up and we’ll be eating beignets in no time.”

Rhea joined us in the circle, more out of solidarity than a magical need. Giguhl held my right hand. “On three,” I said, forcing my tone to stay strong. Beside me, Giguhl and Adam nodded, giving me the all-clear.

“One…” Rhea’s smile wavered.

The wind rose up, cold and harsh as a stranger.

“Two…” Adam squeezed my hand. Over his shoulder, I spied the tense, hopeful faces of the Queen of the fae, the vampire Enforcer, and the dozens of members of all the dark races who were putting their faith in us.

Through the haze of magic and the pull of time and space, I sent a little prayer to Lilith that this would not be the last time we were all together.

“Three.”

Acknowledgments

W
ith each book I write, the list of people I owe a thanks to grows, but then so does my gratitude. But instead of filling page after page with names, I’ll just highlight a few special souls without whom this book wouldn’t have been possible.

Devi Pillai: Thanks for everything you do to help me make this look easy.

Anna Gregson, Jennifer Flax, Lauren Panepinto, Alex Lencicki, Jack Womack, and the rest of Team Orbit and the awesome people at Hachette: Thank you for all your hard work behind the scenes to help me share my crazy stories.

Jonathan Lyons: Thanks for everything.

Rebecca Strauss: I’m looking forward to our adventures.

Maryam Houston: Amazing what a little wine can accomplish, huh? I can’t believe all those crazy ideas we came up with actually worked! Be prepared, though, now you’ll be required to help plot all my books.

Suzanne McLeod: You are a candidate for beta-reading sainthood for your quick turnaround and brilliant critique. I feel lucky to work with you and smug that I get to read your amazing books before everyone else.

Margie Lawson, Susannah Curtis, Laurie Baltz, and Beverly Lindbo: You’re an amazing group of women and writers whose passion and talent humbles me. Ladies, keep writing, the world needs to hear your voices.

Zivy and Emily: The older we get, the more I realize we’re all three the pretty smart fools K.T. sang about. I love that about us.

Mr. Jaye: In addition to everything else you’ve given me, you’ve become a trusted advisor and bedrock of support for my writing. Thirteen years ago, even I couldn’t have imagined how this would all unfold, but I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side to face the adventure. ILYNTB

Spawn: You embody joy for me. Never stop being yourself. Always know you’re loved.

Finally, thank you to all the readers and booksellers who champion these books. You all amaze and humble me.

extras

meet the author

Raised in Texas, J
AYE
W
ELLS
grew up reading everything she could get her hands on. Her penchant for daydreaming was often noted by frustrated teachers. Later, she embarked on a series of random career paths before taking a job as a magazine editor. Jaye eventually realized that while she loved writing, she found reporting facts boring. So she left all that behind to indulge her overactive imagination and make stuff up for a living. Besides writing, she enjoys travel, art, history, and researching weird and arcane subjects. She lives in Texas with her saintly husband and devilish son. Find out more about the author at
www.jayewells.com
.

introducing

If you enjoyed SILVER-TONGUED DEVIL, look out for

BLUE-BLOODED VAMP

Book 5 of the Sabina Kane series

by Jaye Wells

E
rron led us down narrow cobbled streets to a discreet wooden door set back into a stone building. A small, hand-painted sign advertised the name of the establishment: B
AR
S
INISTER
.

Erron opened the door. The scent of hops and barley mixed with the overpowering aroma of unfiltered cigarette smoke. Laughter and music fell out into the street like drunks on a bender. Erron entered without a word, leaving Adam and me to follow. Despite the bar being located in the center of Rome, the majority of voices I heard spoke with a British accent rather than Italy’s mother tongue.

When I caught up with Erron, I yanked on his jacket. He stopped and looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What is this place, exactly?”

Erron frowned like I asked a stupid question. “A bar?”

“No,” I said, huffing out an annoyed breath. “Why does everyone in here look like an extra from
Benny Hill
?”

“The owner’s a Brit—from Liverpool, I believe. Lots of expat mages use the joint as a gathering place.”

I exchanged a confused look with Adam.

“Well, that certainly relieves any worries about language barriers,” Adam said with a shrug. Then he nudged me to follow the Recreant farther into the pub.

Erron sidled up to the bar and flagged down the barkeep. The guy had the physique of a potato. His ruddy cheeks and jovial expression made me like him immediately. “What’ll it be, mate?”

“Three Guinesses,” Erron said, as if we were in the British Isles instead of Italy.

The bartender toddled off to fill the order. Adam pulled up next to Erron. “I thought we were here to talk to someone.”

“We are. But there’s a way these things are done.”

“Do you think it could be done a little quicker?” I said. “We’re burning moonlight.”

“Sabina, I know you’re in a hurry, but this is Italy. Nothing happens quickly.”

“I thought you said these guys are Brits,” I grumbled.

“True, but
la dolce vita
tends to soften even the most type-A personality into complacence. You’ll see.”

I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to remind Erron that we weren’t in Italy on holiday. The mage might be a lot of things, but I’d spent enough time with him to understand that his laissez faire attitude was mostly an act. He understood the gravity of the situation more than most. After all, he’d suffered his share of losses at Cain’s hands, too.

Three beers appeared on the bar in front of us. The bartender leaned against the wood with a smile on his face. He told us the total for the drinks. Erron handed him an unnecessarily large bill.

“I’ll just be getting your change then,” the bartender said, turning away.

“Keep it,” Erron said, taking a casual sip from the pint.

“That’s mighty kind of you,” the bartender said. Instead of walking away, he leaned his elbows on the bar, ready to chat now. “You’re Yanks, aren’t ya?”

Erron smiled and nodded. “Visiting from New Orleans.”

“Ah, well. Welcome to Roma! Is this your first time in Italy, then?”

I covered my sigh with a hefty swig of beer. Obviously, our British friend had seen the large tip as an invitation to pry.

“No,” Erron said. “I’ve been here many times. However, my friends here are visiting for the first time.”

The bartender’s eyes, too shrewd for a man who looked like he bathed in whisky, gave Adam and me a once-over. “We don’t get a lot of new visitors in Bar Sinister.” Something about the way he said it made me think that “new visitors” was code for something else.

“We’re actually here looking for an old friend,” Erron continued. “Maybe you know him?”

Since the mage seemed intent on having a nice long chat, I decided to shuck off my jacket. The stuffy bar, combined with the hot air blowing between the males, made the bar feel stifling.

The bartender pursed his lips. “Maybe. What’s this bloke’s name?”

“Abel.”

The instant the word fell from Erron’s lips, the entire atmosphere in the bar changed. Nothing overt. No one rose to confront us or anything. More like a tightening of the air. A slight lowering of volume to the raucous conversation. Awareness. Yes, that’s what it was. Everyone suddenly seemed very aware of us.

The bartender hunched down and leaned toward us. “Only Abel I ever heard of was that poor bastard got killed by his brother in the Bible story.”

Erron’s smile tightened. “Really?”

“In fact, I think maybe you’re in the wrong place altogether.”

“And what might be the right place?”

“I wouldn’t be knowin’ that.” The bartender’s lips tightened and his eyes were now as serious as life-or-death.

“This is a waste of time. This guy doesn’t know anything.” My aggressive tone earned me a sharp glance from the Recreant.