“I’ll check on him now and report back.”
She grabs my arm before I walk off. “I won’t allow any more infection or death under my watch, do you understand that?”
I nod in understanding and ask her to stay in the studio. She sits in my chair looking less shaken than when she came in. I walk down the hallway and consider that if what she’s saying is true, we not only have a problem but a catastrophic event. Morgan’s perception of the six of us is probably accurate—she needs all of us to solidify the power of the Goddess inside of her. If Bunny has stepped out of line, we’re screwed.
I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and pause, bracing myself to face him. Instead I see Damien’s shaved head and the glint of his earrings in the dim hallway light.
Our eyes meet. I ask, “Looking for me?”
He shakes his head and steps on the landing. “Nah, I’ve been asking Bunny for some indigo for a few weeks. I need it for a project. Figured I’d just come up and get it.”
“He wouldn’t give it to you?”
“Kept brushing me off. The one other time I came up, he was gone.”
“When was that?”
“A few nights ago.” Outside Bunny’s door, Damien rests his hands on his hips. “His door was locked.”
Bunny is notorious for keeping late working hours and sleeping most of the day. It’s just about time for him to get up and it dawns on me that he’d been in Morgan’s room when he’d normally be asleep.
I rub the back of my neck and Damien catches the grimace on my face. “What?”
I sigh. “We may have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” His entire demeanor shifts.
I raise my eyebrows. “Let’s find out.”
Damien raps on the studio door. After a moment’s wait there’s no answer, no sound from within. Damien jerks his chin up and before I nod my approval he’s pulled a tool from his pocket and has inserted it in the lock. He fiddles for a moment but the spring triggers and the lock unlatches.
Before opening it Damien stops me and says, “Are you sure about this?”
“Morgan sent me. I’m just doing my job.”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He glances down at the tool and keeps it in his hand. The door opens with a soft creak, like all the old hinges in this house. I walk past him, getting the first look of his studio in a while. He’d been quiet lately. I didn’t think much of it with things having calmed down with Morgan and, frankly, being involved in my own personal concerns. What I’d been was distracted and when Damien calls me over to look at the first of a dozen canvases, I realize what a tactical error that had been.
“What the hell?” Damien says, but I’m stunned speechless. The paintings tell a story. The Morrigan’s story from the Otherside. Her dark castle looms in each one, sitting on a foundation of bone and ash. I’m struck by how real it looks. How I can feel the cold air. Smell the charred flesh. So many lives have been lost at the hand of this vindictive bitch.
Nearby are another series of paintings. Recognizable locations around New York. He’s captured the same realism. They’re an odd contrast of both worlds.
A sound captures my attention and I turn and find Damien at Bunny’s work table. He’s picking through the tools and paints. He holds one up and shakes it. A powdery substance moves inside.
“What’s that?”
“You’re right. We have a problem,” he says, grimacing. “These aren’t normal paintings. Bunny’s been playing with magic.”
“How so?”
Alchemy is not my area of expertise. I’m the historian. “It’s just a guess but this is elder root. When mixed correctly with compounds from this realm and the Otherside, it can be very powerful.”
“How so?” I take the container from him and open it, taking a sniff. It has a dusty, woody smell.
“When he mixes it with his paints it fuses with the painting, connecting the two worlds.” He walks over to a painting of the Otherside, a massive depiction of the decaying woods outside the castle grounds. Then he points to one of the modern, local paintings. A train station downtown. There’s nothing notable about it other than Bunny’s skill. “See these lines, the way they arch the same way?”
I do, now that he’s pointed it out. “Yeah, I guess.”
“If you enter here,” he points to the station sign. “You’ll exit in there.”