“Excellently explained, Mr. Albrecht,” Rani said, this time the pride in her eyes reserved for me. I can’t lie, I felt a little tickled by her approval. “But to continue, again, we know that Mr. Abernathy is the son of one of the Seven. Now, this is mainly conjecture for now, but the Princes of Greed, Gluttony, and Sloth are too busy with their respective domains to bother spawning. Wrath doesn’t really concern themself with matters of procreation, which leaves one of the other three.”
I looked uncertainly at the others. It might have just been the little thrill of fear coursing through my blood, but the room suddenly felt just a little bit colder.
“Okay, hold up. I can’t believe I only just made that connection. Lucifer is one of the Seven. You’re saying that Quilliam could be the spawn of Lucifer.”
Maharani nodded slowly, her face grim, her voice taut. “Heaven forbid.”
16
My hand swept through my hair, fingertips tugging lightly at the ends as I tried to get my heartbeat to settle, to stop my blood pumping so rapidly.
“That’s the best we’ve got?” I said. “And even if we know that Quill is a mama’s boy, that’s useless information, considering how the princes change their skins and bodies as often as they change their clothes.”
Rani tapped the side of her nose. “Exactly. And the uncertainty of his heritage poses a little bit of a problem as we have no way of telling if he has inherited any of his demon parent’s abilities. We are very much aware of his competence with magic. He is a powerful magus, no question. But the boy’s real strength is in his unusual connection to arcane literature.”
“He sure loves his books,” I said, mentally reliving the delight of kicking Quill’s tome under the tires of a truck.
“A bibliophile in the most extreme sense. We suspect that he has something of a photographic memory, at least when it comes to tomes and grimoires. That type of retention means that he has the potential to very quickly grow his stock of spells for as long as he has access to books of magic.”
Florian nodded. “We’ve seen him summon his books out of thin air. He doesn’t just use them for reference, though. It’s like they amplify his magic. He can project spells from them, so each book becomes its own mobile flamethrower.”
Beatrice gasped. “Like an armed drone? That’s pretty damn terrifying. And a little awesome.”
“But I still find it so bizarre that he can be so personable with people,” I said. “With Mammon, back when it was pretending to be both of the Rodriguez witches, for example, or with that Abel guy who runs the pawnshop.” I gestured at Beatrice. “Even you said that he’s never been anything but pleasant.”
“That is a fair point.” Rani shrugged. “But people will say and do anything to get what they want and need. Perhaps we should consider ourselves fortunate that Mr. Abernathy has not yet shown a knack for taking things by force.”
“Hmm.” Beatrice rested her elbow on the counter, then her chin in her palm. “Actually, isn’t this where you and Quilliam first met?”
I nodded. She was right. Quill had approached me with an offer of work, the little job for the Rodriguez witches meant to be a trap to weaken me and make me an easier target for abduction. A nephilim kidnapping, I guess.
Rani looked between us, her eyes slowly widening. “Is that so? Very interesting. It appears that Ms. Rex’s shop is a sort of stage, a setting for – well, for something. I don’t believe it is mere coincidence for so many of you – for so many of us to be bumping into each other here.” Rani picked at a loose bit of packing string sitting on Beatrice’s counter, twirling it around her finger. “I dare say that our fates may be intertwined in some way.”
Beatrice bit her lip as she watched Rani wrap her finger in string. Florian and I exchanged silent glances. Was this just some weird Scion quirk of an older, more experienced sorceress going around being cryptic and mysterious, or did Maharani really mean something by that?
The bit of twine fell from Rani’s hand when she unclasped her fingers, going limp on the counter. “Of course, that could just be me rambling. The ravings of a lunatic, eh?” Rani cast her eyes across the room, smiled at the three of us, then swept towards the door, tucking her new bag under the swirling silks of her sari. “Farewell, friends. Perhaps the threads of fate will bring us together again someday.” She laughed, her voice tinkling like the bell above the doorway.
We were quiet for some moments, the others no doubt dwelling on the same thoughts I had about what had just happened. In any other context, in conversation that involved regular human beings, that might have just been some lighthearted sentimental statement. But we were talking about a woman who could control time here. What if she could see through time as well?
No one discussed any of that stuff after Rani left, her words and sweeping declarations long gone, but cloying and lingering in the air like a strange perfume. Instead, Beatrice turned our attention to the whole reason Florian and I had shown up, and the thing I’d been wanting for so long.
“Here’s the bracer,” she said, running her fingers across the lid of a long cardboard box, its surface stamped with her workshop’s logo in embossed gold foil.
The suspense, I thought. The drama! But even though I tried not to take things so seriously, I still held my breath when Beatrice lifted the lid. There, resting on a puffy felt cushion, was a strip of brown leather, all but unremarkable to the untrained eye.
Yet if you looked at it from a different angle, you could just make out the faint gleam on its surface as light struck the leather, the sort of odd iridescence you’d see from oil on water. Blink once, and it was gone. It was probably the shimmerscale’s doing, bending and warping just enough of reality to sustain its illusion.
Beatrice lifted the bracer, its ends drooping heavily with their brass closures. “Stick your arm out. Come on.”
I did as she said, marveling at the intricate designs embellished in the leather. The curlicues and lines didn’t tell any particular story or evoke a specific pattern, yet they still drew me in with their beauty. I had to admit then that maybe not everything that Beatrice and the Fuck-Tons collaborated on was loud and gaudy and bright. This was understated, rustic, like a relic from a different time.
Beatrice snapped the ends of the bracer shut as I studied its ornate engravings. I jerked when the entire length of leather grew warm, then wrapped tighter around my wrist. Within moments it felt like it had melted against my body, fusing with my skin, and mere seconds later, it had completely vanished. I turned my forearm back and forth, my mouth hanging open as I stared.
“Oh wow.” Florian leaned closer, similarly fascinated. “Where did it go? I didn’t know it was supposed to be invisible.”
Beatrice smirked at us both, barely containing the haughty laughter building in her throat. “We figured that Mason would want this to be inconspicuous, something that an enemy couldn’t just rip or burn off his body. They can’t destroy what they don’t even know is there.”
I was still staring stupidly at my arm, finding nothing but my skin and the faint little hairs growing out of it. “I can’t even feel it. It’s like it just disappeared completely, not just out of sight.”