Darkness Unbound (Dark Angels 1)

“No—why?”

“Because I wasn’t expecting a second parcel.”

“Maybe it’s from your Aedh lover.”

“Doubtful.” Aedh weren’t the sentimental type. From everything both Mom and Uncle Quinn had said, they basically just fucked and left. And while Lucian might have been earthbound long enough to have the harsh edges rubbed off, I very much doubted he was the gift-giving type. Highly sexed, maybe, but not sentimental.

I placed the parcel containing Tao’s cookbook down on the dresser, then raised the other one. It smelled of cardboard and old leather. Frown deepening, I gave the parcel a quick shake. Nothing rattled. Whatever it was, it was well packed and heavy. I’d have to open it if I wanted to know what it was.

Carefully, I flipped it over and slid my nails under the tape holding it together, tearing it away from the cardboard. The end came apart, revealing bubble wrap and what looked to be the edges of a very old book. Maybe someone overseas had goofed and sent me two copies of the cookbook rather than one.

I undid the wrap. The book wasn’t a cookbook, and it was far older than the one I’d ordered. The binding was spiderwebbed with cracks, and the brown leather was so worn the color had faded in patches. The edges of the pages were yellow and frayed looking, and the scent rising from it was one of age and mustiness. There was no writing on the cover, and nothing on the spine.

Which was damn weird.

I opened it carefully. The leather binding creaked and dust puffed up, making my nose crinkle. The first two pages were blank, but the third had several sentences written on it. I didn’t recognize the language, and there was only one word that seemed to make sense—Dušan. The writing itself was scroll-like and beautiful, but the rest of it reminded me of the tattoos decorating Azriel’s neck.

Several more empty pages followed; then came a picture of what looked like a wingless, serpent-like dragon. Unlike anything else in this old book so far, the colors were vibrant and colorful, the serpentine form drawn with such skill that the tiny violet scales almost appeared to glow in the half-light of the room.

I touched it lightly, running my fingers down the jeweled spine and spiraled tail. It almost seemed warm, as if life really did pulse underneath the luminous paint.

“Fuck, Risa,” Ilianna yelled from the other kitchen. “Whatever you’re doing—”

The rest of her warning was lost in an explosion of power that knocked me backward and tore the dragon from the book.

It was no picture. It was alive.

The violet dragon was real and whole and powerful, and it swirled toward me—a glinting, arcane force I could feel through every fiber of my being.

I screamed and scrambled backward as fast as I could, but the creature was faster. It hit my fingertips, curled up my left wrist and arm, then seemed to settle, its little claws sinking into my skin, drawing blood but not really hurting. Its scaly hide felt like ice, and the bright violet of its scales glittered jewel-like against my skin.

“Risa, what the hell …?” Ilianna skidded to a halt in the doorway, her gaze widening as it fastened up my arm. “What on earth is that thing?”

“I don’t fucking know.” I shook my arm, trying to loosen the dragon’s serpentine grip, but to no avail. “It sort of exploded from the book and attached itself to me.”

And it was attaching itself. Even as I watched, it flattened out, seeming to sink into my skin, until it looked more like a vivid tattoo that curled from my wrist to my shoulder rather than a creature that had exploded to life from a book.

Ilianna knelt beside me and carefully touched the beast. “My God,” she said, awe in her voice. “It’s alive. I can feel the beat of its heart.”

“So can I.” And that beat was tuning itself to mine. A tremor ran through me, and fire flared briefly in the creature’s obsidian eyes. It was almost as if it was responding to my fear. I swallowed heavily. “What the hell is it?”

“I don’t know.” She skimmed my arm with her fingertips,

not quite touching the dragon, but close enough to rustle the fine hairs on my arm. “It’s powerful. Extremely powerful. But I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

“That’ll teach me to open strange fucking parcels,” I muttered, then blew out a breath. It didn’t do much to calm the trembling. “So it’s powerful, and it’s attached itself to my arm. I’m thinking this can’t be a good thing.”

“The charm hasn’t reacted to it.” Her green eyes rose to mine. “And it doesn’t feel evil. Whatever it is, I don’t think it was sent here to harm you.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Not. I mean, the thing had attached itself to me. How could that be good? “There was some weird sort of writing in the book, but the only word I could make out was Dušan. Does that mean anything to you?”

She shook her head and sat back on her heels. “I can ask around, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Not even in the old texts at the Brindle.”

The Brindle was the witch repository, and few outside the covens even knew of its existence. Ilianna’s mother was one of the custodians—a fact I knew only because they’d once needed my help to evict a ghost who’d taken up residence.

“Do you think your mom would be able to look it up for us?”

She wrinkled her nose. “That would no doubt involve accepting that goddamn dinner invitation she’s been on about.”