CHAPTER ONE
“Igniscoruscanti,” I whispered, forming an orb of violet energy. It was about the size of a grapefruit and it hovered in my palm. I felt the energy race up my arm and suffuse my body with warmth. I held it in front of me, and Peaches shifted mid-sprawl to look up at me.
<Are you going to make magic meat?>
“This is an incantation orb,” I answered, keeping my focus on the sphere of magical energy in my hand.
Peaches turned away, disinterested, and chuffed. I focused on the orb, trying to channel more energy into it. I saw it start to expand, but then it rapidly collapsed to the size of a grape.
“Shit.”
It floated out of my palm and onto the floor. Peaches turned again, lifted one massive paw, crushed it and snapped it up in one gulp.
<That’s not very good. Can you make the magic meat?>
I felt a surge of energy and a rift opened behind us. I looked back as Monty stepped through.
“That’s a new look for you.” I noticed the missing jacket and rips along the sleeves of his shirt. His pants didn’t look much better, being torn in several places as well. “What’s this called—‘mangled mage’?”
“This used to be a Zegna Bespoke.” Monty pointed to his clothes with an irritated look. “I need a cuppa.”
“How’d it go?”
“Tea.” He held up a hand, walked into the kitchen, and put the kettle on. “Redrum was being modified and the homeless were being forced to take it against their will.”
“Shit, that sounds bad,” I said, joining him in the kitchen. “Do we need to mobilize?”
“No need,” he answered. “It’s mostly contained. I think Stryder will pursue this to its resolution.”
“How was the Redrum modified?”
Monty took the whistling kettle off the stove and poured the water into a cup. “Someone managed to introduce an ultraviolet resistance into the composition of the blood, altering it to allow rummers to traverse during the day.”
“UV-resistant rummers?”
“Precisely.” He took a sip of his Earl Grey. “It gets worse, Simon.”
“What could possibly be worse than rummers out during the day?”
“Hades gave Kokutan no ken to Grey Stryder.”
“What? What the hell is a Grey Stryder, some kind of sneaker?” I asked.
Monty gave me the ‘are you truly this clueless’ look. “Grey Stryder is a Night Warden.”
“So let’s ask Mr. Grey Sneaker for the sword before the Dark Council decides to shred each other.”
“Stryder has bonded to the sword by now, if he isn’t dead.”
“Why does that sound much worse than sparkly rummers?” I asked. “Is this Stryder going to be a problem?”
“He’s one of the last—if not the last—Night Wardens,” Monty replied. “He’s difficult but governed by a sense of justice and a rigid moral code.”
“Aren’t the Night Wardens mages?” I asked. “How did he manage the bond without being erased?”
Monty put the cup down and rubbed his chin in thought.
“An entropic dissolution,” he answered, as if I knew what he meant. “Made him the perfect vessel. Who knew?”
“Not me. Did you ask his godness, Hades, why he gave away the sword that can keep the Dark Council from tearing itself apart?”
Monty shook his head. “Hades is playing a long-game here, but I don’t know what it is, and I can’t see why he would make this move. Code or no code, Stryder is a serious threat.”
“Do we postpone the homecoming?”
Monty looked up at me. “No. I need to get back to the Sanctuary before Oliver sends more Ghosts to convince me that death is a good idea.”
“And this Oliver is a fan because…?”
“I don’t know.” He looked down at his ruined clothes. “I need to change. Have you heard from my uncle?”
“Not since London. Are you opening a rift to the Sanctuary, or do we need to do the digestive destruction of a teleportation circle?”
“Neither. The Sanctuary has defensive measures in place to prevent direct teleportation,” Monty said. “There is a hundred-square-mile magical dead zone around it.”
“What are we going to do?” I asked. “Walk up to the front door and knock? ‘Hello? We’re here to storm the castle!’”
“There’s an airport ten miles from the Sanctuary portal.” Monty headed to the back rooms. “We’re flying there.”
“Flying? As in a plane?”
“Have you achieved the power of autonomous flight?”
“Not lately, even though it felt like that in London.”
“Then we’re flying—in a plane.”
A crashing sound came from Dex’s room, followed by a bright green flash that spilled out from beneath the door. Peaches immediately stood and padded over, waiting. Dex stepped out and stumbled a few steps into the office.
“Ach, that Morrigan is one fiery woman!” he shouted. “Barely escaped with my loins intact.”
He gave me a wide grin and slapped me on the back.
“Glad to hear you and the Morrigan are doing so well, I think?”
“Good to see you, boy. Where’s my ever-pleasant nephew?”
Dex gestured and materialized two large sausages for Peaches, who proceeded to happily inhale them.
<Ask him to teach you how to make the magic meat. This tastes better than your glowing ball.>
“At least say thank you,” I muttered under my breath and shook my head. “You massive black hole.”
Peaches stepped close to Dex and nudged him with his head, slamming him into the wall. Dex bounced off the wall, rubbing his abdomen.
“Ach, that’s a good hellhound.” He patted Peaches’ head with a chuckle. “Now, where’s Tristan?”
“Getting dressed.” I pointed to the back room. “He had a run-in with some rummers.”
“Nasty business, that,” Dex said, pushing my head down as a huge raven soared into the room. “Careful, you daft bird! Apologies.”
Herk, Dex’s raven companion, perched on top of one of the chairs in the reception area. It fixed me with its glowing green eyes for a few seconds before closing them and dozing off. Monty returned in another suit and picked up his cup.
“Much better.” Monty pulled on the sleeves of his new jacket.
Dex grew serious. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”
“And wait for another Ghost tribus to pay me a visit?” Monty asked. “No, if Oliver wants to kill me, he’s going to have to do it himself.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dex answered. “At least let’s get help.”
“Whom do you propose?” Monty asked, wary. “None of your ‘acquaintances’ from the old country, thank you.”
“LD Tush?” Dex asked, wincing.
“You’re thinking of using the Ten?”
“No. Just LD…and maybe TK?”
“Are you mad?” Monty asked, shaking his head. “LD is the worst of the lot!”
“He’s also the most dangerous and knows how to get in and out without getting us killed.” Dex held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll convince him to leave TK at the shop.”
“Only if we want the Sanctuary standing when we’re through,” Monty shot back. “She’s twice as dangerous as he is.”
“It’s decided, then!” Dex rubbed his hands. “I’ll pack some things and we’ll port over to the Tushes’.”
Dex ran back into his room, leaving me completely confused.
“Who or what is an LD or TK? The Ten what?”
“The Tushes are, like my uncle, rogue mages that currently run an artifact business.” Monty shook his head. “They are presently the only direct competition to the Moving Market.”
“And this Ten?”
“During the war there was a covert group of renegade mages known as the Terrifying Ten. I don’t know how many of them are still alive, outside LD, TK, and one or two others crazy enough to befriend my uncle.”
“I didn’t know the Moving Market had competition.”
“Fordey Boutique is a very special kind of ‘store.’ The Market would never move against them,” Monty said. “They tried—once.”
“What do they sell?” I asked. “Are they as large as the market?”
“No, they would be considered a boutique shop selling a very specific commodity,” Monty said. “If the Moving Market is Selfridges, those two are Halimeh in Knightsbridge.”
“And what do they sell?” I asked, concerned. “This sounds like a bad move.”
“Death, destruction, devastation, and death,” Monty said with a sigh. “This is going to be a nightmare.”
“You said death twice.”
Monty took a long sip of his tea and stared at me.
“I know.”
