10

The next morning, I changed straight into my leather uniform and headed downstairs to the canteen. I piled eggs, toast, donuts, and cinnamon french toast onto my tray. I just knew it was going to be a long day. Unfortunately, it was not a long breakfast. I had five minutes to eat, and then I had to head down to the underground garage. Nero, Captain Somerset, and Jace were already waiting outside of our car when I got there.

“Get lost, Pandora?” Captain Somerset asked with a smirk.

Nero was far less amused. “You’re late,” he said.

Actually, according to the clock in the garage, I was exactly ten seconds early, but there was no point in arguing with him. Angel time seemed to operate outside of normal time. Nero opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Captain Somerset claimed shotgun, leaving the backseat for me and Jace.

The drive passed in silence. Jace kept his face turned away from me the whole time. Either I was sporting some seriously bad body odor, or he was brooding over something. Whatever his reasons for ignoring me, it was better than his previous pattern of trying to beat the crap out of me. Not that he would have dared to do that in Nero’s presence without the angel’s permission.

Thanks to a lucky break with the stoplights—or Nero manipulating the stoplights—we arrived at the New York University of Witchcraft within minutes. The campus consisted of five large mansions that surrounded a blooming garden where the witches grew all of their potion ingredients. We parked outside Building 1, then we all got out.

There were half a dozen witches in sight, but no one tried to tell us we couldn’t park on the sidewalk. They just stood there, their eyes wide with a mix of wonder and shock as Nero led our badass walk toward the entrance. Our steps were perfectly in sync, and our long leather coats swayed majestically in the wind—all that was missing was the heavy beat of an epic soundtrack and the exploding light effects.

Beyond the glass doors that parted in front of us, a grand entrance hall waited. Small glass windows covered the arched ceiling, extending in a nautical swirl halfway down the back wall. A clock sat at the center of that swirl, its gears exposed. Bronze hands announced that it was half past six. Despite the early hour, the hall was not empty. Like the Legion, the witches seemed to be early risers. A woman sat behind a long, curved reception desk that resembled a counter in an apothecary shop. A very chic apothecary shop. The glossy desk was made of cherrywood. At one corner sat an antique bell, and at the other a lovely vase with an orchid plant inside. Orchids, what a perfectly fitting flower for the proper, dignified witches.

The witch behind the desk was certainly just as proper and dignified as the flowers. She wore a dark velvet overcoat with golden fasteners down the front and a matching golden clip in her chin-length black hair. She was busy chatting with the man on the other side of the desk, so neither one had noticed us yet. The male witch wore a brown vest over a blue dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of jeans over big cowboy boots. A big brown leather utility belt hung at his hips. A dozen different tools were attached to it. From his outfit, tools, and the bizarre-looking goggles balanced atop his head, he looked like a mechanic. He talked like one too.

“The repairs on the Flying Siren are coming along slowly. The airship won’t be back up in the air for at least another week,” he said.

“Aurora wanted to throw a party aboard the ship on Friday. She won’t be happy that it’s not ready,” the receptionist witch warned him.

“She has her own sister to blame. Her last party…” He shook his head. “I still don’t know what they were brewing up there that resulted in them blowing out two of the gas tanks.”

“Well, you know how they get when—” The receptionist had just noticed us, hence the dropped jaw.

“Summon the department heads,” Nero commanded her.

His wings unfolded behind him as he walked, and the witch’s wide eyes panned across the gorgeous tapestry of black, blue, and green feathers. The man was an insufferable showoff, whether or not he cared to admit it, but no one could deny he was strikingly beautiful.

“Now,” Nero said, that single crisp word like a punch of magic through the artificially-cooled air.

That broke the witch out of her trance. She grabbed the telephone and hastily began tapping the buttons. The mechanic watched us with a worried expression on his face. We hadn’t told the witches we were coming. Nero hadn’t wanted to give them any time to prepare for this arbitration—or for the real reason we were here.

While we waited for the illustrious heads of the New York University of Witchcraft to make an appearance, I looked around the reception hall. The red and black checkerboard-pattern floor and brick interior walls were a nice touch, but my personal favorite was the Halloween decoration display. The holiday was nearly a month away, but it was not uncommon for witches to spend the entire month of October celebrating.

A mechanical witch made of turning gears stood inside a black cauldron oozing green smoke that smelled like peppermint. Pumpkins of all shapes and sizes were piled around the cauldron, and paper jack-o-lanterns hung from the two pillars on either side of the Halloween display. A panel of orange lights blinked ‘BOO’ over and over again in time to the classical music soundtrack playing in the hall. But it was the row of big, red apples that caught my eye. Someone had taken a bite out of each one, and from those mouth-shaped holes oozed a thick black liquid that was obviously supposed to represent poison. How ironic that poison was precisely what had brought us here.

A door opened, and four witches—three women and one man—stepped into the entrance hall. These four individuals were the most powerful witches in the entire city. Each one of them led one of New York’s covens, just as each one of them headed a different department at this university. I’d read all about it in The History and Politics of Witchcraft in New York City, one of the books on Nero’s reading list. I’d skimmed through most of the slim book last night before bed. I hadn’t expected to remember anything when morning came around, but it turned out my retention was better than I’d thought. Maybe I had the gods’ second gift to thank for that. Nero had said Witch’s Cauldron was a mental gift, not a physical one.

“Colonel Windstriker, what an unexpected pleasure—”

Nero waved his hand, cutting off the witch who’d spoken. I recognized her from the pre-mission reading Nero had assigned me along with the books. Her name was Gwyneth Dorn, and she headed the Steam department at the school. Steam Witches were the inventors and engineers of the witching world. They crafted magic into technology, and it was this Magitech that made the world run smoothly. It powered the cities, the trains, and most importantly, the defenses on the walls that separated humanity from the plains of monsters.

Though Gwyneth’s file declared her to be over sixty, she didn’t look a day over thirty. Witches weren’t immortal, but they did live longer than regular humans. How much longer depended entirely upon how strong their magic was. A powerhouse like Gwyneth could easily live up to two hundred years, meaning she was still in the prime of her life. She was certainly flaunting that for everything it was worth. She wore a dark red corset top with a black ballerina skirt. Her black gloves and the small hat positioned at an artfully slanted angle on the side of her head added a ladylike charm to her outfit, and the piece of black mesh net that covered half of her face gave her a mysterious air.

The man standing to Gwyneth’s left was Constantine Wildman, the head of Zoology, the department that studied magical animals and their uses in witchcraft. He was the same age as Gwyneth, but he too showed little evidence of aging. His messy brown hair was almost juvenile, and his outfit of a fitted sweater vest and trekking pants was half professor, half jungle explorer. A gold watch, much like the kind train conductors carried, dangled from his pocket.

Aurora Bennet, the third witch in the group, was in charge of Botany. Her department focused on the study and cultivation of magical plants. She was younger than Gwyneth and Constantine by over thirty years. So was her sister Morgana, who headed the Chemistry department, which specialized in potion-brewing. They were the two sisters who were on the verge of open war.

They looked like twins, though three years separated them. Aurora, the elder of the two, wore a white, lace-trimmed bodice that showed off her cleavage. Her midsection was wrapped inside of a yellow and red corset with dragon patterns sewn into it. The corset ended abruptly at a brown ruffled skirt that was short in the front and long in back. High boots, a leather belt with attached pouches at her hips, and tons of slender silver bracelets topped off her look.

Morgana was dressed more conservatively. She wore striped brown and black tights, black boots, and a body-hugging black top under a brown corset. Her silver hair was dyed with magic, but the spell was slowly wearing off. The tips were already brown. My active mind wondered if she was too busy poisoning people to make time for hair maintenance. Only time—and lots of snooping—would tell.

“Aurora Bennet, Morgana Bennet,” Nero said after an extended silence.

He’d once told me silence made people uncomfortable, that humans had this innate urge to fill the emptiness—and a sure way to disrupt someone’s equilibrium was to not allow them to speak. This worked especially well on people who were used to commanding everyone’s attention, like the four witches who headed New York’s covens. The look Nero was giving them right now was a dare to speak, and at the same time a promise of what would happen to them if they did.

“This conflict between your covens has escalated beyond acceptable limits,” he told them. “The Legion has decided to step in. We will determine who is guilty and who will be punished.” The hard look in his eyes expanded to include Gwyneth and Constantine too. “You have ten minutes to summon the students and staff to the assembly hall for questioning.”

“All of them?” Aurora said, her jaw clenched.

“Every last witch.”

“But that will disrupt our students’ course schedules,” Gwyneth protested with indignation.

“You seem to be under the misconception that I am asking,” Nero replied coldly. “I’m telling you. And you will obey. Go.”

The force in his voice snapped like a bolt of lightning, sending the witches scrambling. As soon as the four department heads were gone, he turned to the gaping mechanic. From the look on the man’s face, he’d never seen those witches jump for anyone.

“Show us to the assembly hall,” Nero commanded him. “And I’m going to need you to procure a few things for me before we begin the hearing.”

* * *

I snuck out of the assembly hall before the witch hearing began. While the university’s professors and students were being grilled on anything and everything that had to do with the hostilities between the covens of Aurora and Morgana, I walked the empty grounds in search of a darker threat. The Chemistry labs in Building 2 were my first stop. If the witches were brewing up trouble, that’s where I’d find the evidence.

Unsurprisingly, there was no book marked ‘Evidence’ set out in clear sight for me to find, but there were inventory and restocking reports tucked away in the office that stood at the nexus of the labs. I scanned the pages for any mention of Sunset Pollen or Snapdragon Venom, the two substances we’d found in the residue at the Brick Palace. To avoid being seen, I kept the room’s lights off, but that also made it harder to read. It was a good thing I had supernaturally-enhanced vision—and that I’d deactivated the surveillance in the area. The latest Magitech cameras, which I had to assume the witches had, didn’t need much light to see.

I’d made it through most of the reports in the cabinet when blinding white light flooded the office. The sharp clicks of high heels against the tiled floor sent me scrambling for cover inside the nearest lab. Officially, the witches couldn’t do anything to me if they found me here, but that wouldn’t stop them from unofficially blowing me up and burning my remains. Plus, if they figured out what we were doing before I had a chance to collect evidence, we might never learn who was behind the poisoning.

The footsteps were still headed my way. I drew my gun and waited behind the door. My weapon was loaded with magic-made tranquilizers. Nero had told me to neutralize anyone who discovered me. I chose to believe he meant stun them. I was not going to kill a person simply because they’d had the misfortune to walk in on me while I was snooping. The lab lights flashed to life now, and I aimed the gun at the door…

I froze when I saw the person who’d just stepped into the lab. “Bella,” I said, coming out of hiding.

My sister turned toward me, her eyes flickering from my face to the gun still in my hands. “Leda, I hope you’re not here to shoot me.”

“That depends. Are you an evil witch planning to kill everyone in the city?”

The horrified expression on her face was answer enough, not that I’d ever doubted her. Bella was too gentle to hurt anyone. She simply didn’t have the temperament for world domination. She was a sweet person but a horrible liar. Back at home, I’d always known when she was hiding something. Every twitch, every glance, every step had been a dead giveaway, and that had been before I’d drunk the Nectar of the gods and added supernatural senses to my arsenal of lie-detection skills.

I holstered my gun and shot her a grin. “How could I shoot my favorite sister?”

A smile slowly spread across her lips. “Don’t tell Gin or Tessa.”

I laughed. “They’re seventeen, not stupid. I’m sure they know you’re my favorite. And besides, they’re each other’s favorite sister. You can’t break a bond formed from a mutual love of shopping.”

“I’ve missed your irreverent commentary, Leda.” Bella rushed forward, embracing me. She hugged me so hard that she pushed the air right out of me. “It’s been too long.” She gave me a final squeeze before letting go.

“Just two months,” I told her, stepping back to get a better look at her. She was wearing a pale blue blouse that brought out her eyes, and a hip-hugging knee-length skirt that brought out her curves. “You are a powerful witch now.”

“I’m still working on it,” she replied, blushing.

“I’ve read your letters, Bella. You might be too modest to boast, but I could read between the lines well enough. You’re at the top of your class.”

“This is a marvelous place,” she said, her eyes going dreamy. “I’m learning so much.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad. You’ve wanted to study here since we were kids, and now you’re finally here.”

“Because of you. I was only able to study here because of you. For two years, you worked extra jobs to pay for my first semester’s tuition, and now…” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Leda, Calli told me what you did.”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t me.”

“A few days ago, you paid my tuition bill for the entire two years.”

I shrugged. “I got my first paycheck and had nothing to spend it on. The Legion already provides my food and board. And I figured you needed the money more than I needed a dragon-skin purse.”

More tears poured from her eyes. “I love you, Leda.”

“And I love you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I take it that is not the reason for your visit?”

“No.”

“You’re here with the Legion contingent led by Colonel Windstriker.”

“Yes.”

A smirk touched her red lips. “Aha.”

“Aha what?”

“Calli told me about the Colonel. I see that she’s right.”

“Right about what?”

Her smile grew wider. “That you’re into him.” I rolled my eyes, but that only made her laugh. “I saw him. He’s cute.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d had to survive his training sessions for the past two months.”

“You survived it, and you are saying it,” she countered.

“I haven’t said any such thing.”

“Not with your lips perhaps, but your eyes tell all.” She reached out to squeeze my hand. “So, why are you here when the rest of the Legion contingent and everyone else is in the assembly hall?”

“Not everyone,” I said. “You’re here.”

“We were just dismissed for lunch.”

Was it already so late? One glance up at the clock was all it took to realize that I’d completely lost track of time. I had read through three-quarters of the inventory reports and seen no mention of either Sunset Pollen or Snapdragon Venom. It was possible that I’d find a report about them in the remaining folders, but I seriously doubted it.

“Your angel has adjourned the meeting for one hour,” Bella continued.

“He’s not my angel.”

Her brows lifted, but she didn’t tease me further. “This morning, university security barged into the lab to herd us all into the assembly hall. I came back to grab the book I forgot here.” She took the textbook lying on the tabletop.

“Are these the only labs in the university?” I asked Bella.

“These are the labs the students use.” Her mouth hardened with suspicion. “You’re not really here about Aurora and Morgana, are you?”

“That remains to be seen,” I said. “Have they been acting strangely?”

“You mean like crashing each other’s parties? Or sabotaging each other’s workspaces? They are two grown women fighting over resources, rituals, and perceived slights, Leda. Worse yet, they are sisters. They should be looking out for each other, not spending their days inventing new and horrible ways to stab each other in the back. And everyone is suffering because of it. I’d be glad the Legion had stepped in, if I weren’t sure you’re here for some other reason.” She gave me a loaded look.

“You’re right,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Did you hear about what happened at the Brick Palace a couple days ago?”

“Yeah, the building caught on fire. Nearly a hundred people died. How horrible.”

“They died before the fire. Someone rigged the cooling system to expel poison. We found traces of Sunset Pollen and Snapdragon Venom in the residue inside the building.”

“Those substances are only made at this university. That’s why you’re here. You think someone here poisoned those people.” Her gloved hand flitted to her mouth.

“As you said, both substances are only made here,” I said. “Do you know where they’re kept?”

“Morgana and the Chemistry professors have their own lab on the second floor. We’re not allowed in there, but everyone knows it’s where they keep the really interesting things, Sunset Pollen and Snapdragon Venom among them.”

It looked like I’d be sneaking into the second floor Chemistry lab after lunch.

“No, the entire second floor is protected by wards,” Bella said, guessing my thoughts. “It’s where all the restricted-access rooms are.”

So much for sneaking. I didn’t think I could bypass a ward made by a witch coven leader. Their magic was too strong.

“Leda,” Bella said quietly. “Why would witches kill all of those people?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “But we think whoever killed them might be working for demons.”

“Demons.” She hissed the word like it was a curse.

“Demons can grant supernaturals new and powerful magic. If a witch wanted a way to gain a power advantage over another witch, that is one way to do it.”

“By dealing with a demon?” Bella shook her head. “No, I can’t believe anyone here would do that.”

“You always see the good in people,” I said, smiling at her. “But everyone has their own inner demons, Bella. Some people just wear them closer to the surface.”

“That’s a very cynical attitude to have.”

“I need to play the cynic right now if I’m going to catch this murderer. You can help me.”

“How?” she asked.

“You can help me think this through. You’ve always been good at that.”

“Whatever you need.”

“So, if Morgana was the one who made the poison, if she did it to gain an edge over her sister, why would she use Sunset Pollen and Snapdragon Venom? What is special about those substances?” I asked her.

“Despite their misleading names, both poisons are made from animals, not plants. Morgana’s sister Aurora is the head of the Botany department. Morgana wouldn’t go to her sister’s people for poisons. They’d tell Aurora, Aurora would figure out why, and then the game would be up. Assuming Morgana is the one behind this,” she added hastily.

“Constantine Wildman is the head of Zoology,” I said. “What if he’s in on this too?”

“Then the university is in big trouble. If Morgana and Constantine are in on this together, the demons could easily infiltrate the entire school.”

“Have you seen any evidence of that?”

“No, but they wouldn’t openly flaunt it, would they? We have to figure out which witch is behind this.”

“Or which witches,” I added. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

“Leda, you know you don’t even have to ask. I will always help you, whatever you need.”

The clocktower outside began to ring out a melody of bells and beats.

“The meal bells,” she said. “Lunch is starting in the restaurant.”

I linked my arm in hers. “How about you show me to the restaurant?”

I’d memorized the university blueprints Nero had given me, but I wasn’t going to miss a chance for some sisterly bonding. It had been far too long. We walked arm-in-arm to the restaurant in Building 1, chatting the whole way. Happiness tumbled with sorrow inside of me. My heart ached for those happy, golden days—the days when we’d all been together. We might catch a fleeting moment here and there, but those days would never truly come again.

“So, tell me about the guy you’re seeing,” I said, smiling past the painful twinges inside my chest.

“How did you know?” she asked, shocked.

“There’s a certain glow around you. Dare I guess it’s love?”

“I’m not sure what it is.” Happiness washed across her face. “But it feels good.”

“Good.” I tightened my hold on her arm. “Because if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

“Leda, you deserve happiness most of all.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as we stepped into a hallway full of witches. “Your selfless sacrifice…”

We’d entered the restaurant, so we spoke no more of sacrifices or other serious matters. Bella gave my hand a squeeze before joining a group of witches at one of the tables.

The restaurant possessed the same elegant blend of modern and nostalgic elements—and of magic and technology—that characterized the witches. Gold curtains and antique wood furniture. Top-of-the-line coffee machines and blenders. Silver and porcelain, silk and stainless steel. It was so beautiful that I could have stared all day, but there was no time for that. I had to find Nero and the others.

I’d no sooner had the thought than they stepped into the restaurant. Nero led them across the room like he owned everything in it. Every plate and fork, every table and flower vase. And every person. The witches turned to stare at him in wonder. There was something darkly sensual about the way he possessed any space he entered, and I couldn’t help but stare a little myself. How did he do it? No one had looked at me like that when I’d come in with Bella.

“If you want to own any room you’re in, then you have to believe you own it,” he said as I moved into step beside them.

The more time we spent together, the easier it was getting for him to read my thoughts. I needed to learn to block him better. Or, better yet, I should stop spending so much time with him. That’s what any sane and logical person would do.

“What were you discussing with your sister?” he asked.

“We were just catching up.”

We moved into a private dining room at the far end of the restaurant. Soft orchestra music played from the speakers on the walls. We took our chairs around the dining room table, which was large enough to seat four times our numbers. Waiters in tuxedos rushed to fill our water glasses. When they were finished, Nero waved them away. Smooth as silk, they fluttered from the room and shut the door behind them.

Nero took a roll from the bread basket, his eyes staring at me from across the table. “I hope your familial entanglements won’t keep you from doing your job.”

“Of course not.”

“Your sister is a witch.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed, but thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Jace nearly choked on his roll, while Captain Somerset looked from me to Nero with obvious amusement.

“Careful,” Nero warned me.

I took a bite out of my roll before my mouth got me into trouble.

“Wise choice,” he said.

The doors opened again, and the four waiters glided in like they were skating across ice. They set a tiny plate of very snooty-looking pasta in front of each of us, then left the room again. I poked at the pretentious arrangement of carrots beside the two ravioli pouches on my plate.

“Afraid your lunch will try to eat you, Pandora?” Captain Somerset teased.

“No. It’s just…something feels weird.” There was an odd charge to the air, like static popping against my skin. A low hum buzzed in my ears.

“Shall we call the kitchen to order you something more to your liking?” She smirked. “Perhaps a bowl of macaroni and cheese?”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just…” I shook my head. “I don’t know what it is.”

And before I could figure it out, an explosion shook the room.