“Slow down.”
I glance over my shoulder and see Morgan in a half-run, trying to keep up. I slow my stride, annoyed with her short legs.
She evens up with me, breathing heavily. “You should be in better cardiovascular shape—with all the training.”
“Dude, don’t blame me for your tree-trunk legs.”
I snort, but hold back a reply. We’re both on edge. I’d already known it was possible Anita and Xavier had greater roles in Morgan’s life. Each interaction could be the one that tips the scales. The Darkness always has a reach into the world she wants to conquer. Xavier was a sacrifice—a blood offering to a hungry goddess.
“Tell me again about the kiss,” I prompt. She gives me a suspicious look. “Not in a perverted way. It’s just very odd.”
“It was odd,” Morgan replies. “She seemed very desperate and the Darkness was needy too.”
“So you—or rather, she—liked it?”
“She did.” But the expression that ghosts over her face tells me Morgan enjoyed it too. Not sexually. The energy exchange, which is definitely more alarming than sexual exploration. No, despite our best efforts, the Morrigan is growing stronger. We have little choice but to act immediately.
I direct her up the flight of marble stairs, lingering just a bit to get a long look at her ass. Her legs may be shorter than mine but they’re exquisite, and although I’d held back the prior evening, my willpower is close to snapping.
It all depends on who she chooses. If it’s me? I’ll relish breaking her in. Feeling the tight warmth of her body around mine. If not? The gods did not intend it to be.
“Dylan!” she hisses from the top of the stairs. Her hands clench around the straps of her backpack. The book with the splitting spell is inside. I’ve stopped moving completely, absorbed with my thoughts. “What the hell are you doing?”
I don’t bother with a reply, but climb the stairs quickly and lead Morgan through the entrance, past the front desk, and to a small elevator obscured by a long row of books.
“Seriously though,” she says, eyes lingering over the stacks of books. “Where are we going?”
We’re in the New York public library. The smells of paper and the inevitable layer of decay that comes with so many in one place. The elevator arrives and I follow Morgan into the lift.
“There’s a special collection upstairs reserved for sensitive topics.” I press the button for our floor. The elevator begins to rise. “The occult, magic, witchcraft, ancient supernatural histories.”
She frowns. “Wait, so the library knows about this stuff?”
“Some of the librarians do. Not everyone. Not that clerk at the front desk.”
“And these librarians think it’s real?”
I shrug. “Some are probably skeptical. These books do exist and they deserve a place in the library.” The elevator lurches to a stop and the doors open. We step into a small hallway. A small sign directs us toward “Special Collections” and I lead Morgan down the hall to the unassuming door.
A small keypad is mounted on the wall and I punch in a code.
“How did you get that?” she asks.
I shrug again. “It’s my job.”
The lock springs with a loud click and I open the door. The room is a spectacle. Rows and rows of dark leather with cracked and faded bindings. Parchment mounted behind plexiglass cases, alongside artifacts that carry mysteries we may never unlock. The librarian sits behind a large desk, flipping through a book. Her hair is blue and the glint of light reflects off the hoop in her lip.
Morgan tugs my hand and says, “This is crazy, you know that right?”
“As crazy as a portal gate opening in the middle of Central Park two dasy ago. Or a mystery virus killing a man, spread from nothing more than a kiss. Or you using the WishMaker last night, bringing an entire guard to their knees—”
“Right. Got it,” she cuts me off, apparently not wanting to go into the details of the night before. She definitely pulled a fast one on us all. I’m not even sure where the magic orb came from or how she came to possess it.
We approach the desk and I take a request slip from the stack. I write down the name of the book I’m looking for and slide it over.
“One second,” the librarian says, her eyes sliding between me and Morgan. She looks at Morgan appraisingly and a flare of jealousy ripples under my skin. I’m willing to share the Queen, but even I have my limits.
Five.