Beautiful Redemption (Caster Chronicles 4)

She was an outsider.

Link seemed to sense it, too. “I need to use the bathroom.” He hesitated, unwilling to leave my side. Everyone seemed to have their own brand of bodyguard at a club like Exile. My bodyguard happened to be a quarter Incubus with a heart of gold.

Ridley waited until he was out of earshot. “Your plan sucks.”

“The plan doesn’t suck.”

“Abraham’s not going to trade John Breed for The Book of Moons. John isn’t worth anything to him now that the Order of Things has been set right. It’s too late.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re forgetting I’ve spent more time than I wanted to with Abraham in the past few months. He’s been keeping himself busy. He spends every day in that Frankenstein lab of his, trying to figure out what went wrong with John Breed. He’s gone back to the mad science drawing board.”

“That means he’ll want John back, so he’ll trade us the Book. Which is exactly what we want.”

Ridley sighed. “Are you listening to yourself? He’s not a good guy. You don’t want to hand John over to him. When Abraham’s not gluing wings onto bats, he’s been having secret meetings with some creepy bald guy.”

“Can you be more specific? That doesn’t narrow it down.”

Rid shrugged. “I don’t know. Angel? Angelo? Something church-y like that.”

I felt sick. My glass turned to ice in my hand. I could feel the frozen particles collecting at the tips of my fingers.

“Angelus?”

She popped a chip into her mouth from the black bowl on the bar. “That’s it. They’re teaming up for some supersecret takedown. I never heard the details. But this guy definitely hates Mortals as much as Abraham does.”

What would a member of the Council of the Far Keep be doing with a Blood Incubus like Abraham Ravenwood? After what Angelus tried to do to Marian, I knew he was a monster, but I thought he was some kind of righteous lunatic. Not someone who would conspire with Abraham.

Still, it wasn’t the first time Abraham and the Far Keep seemed to have their agendas aligned. Uncle Macon had brought it up before, right after Marian’s trial.

I shook my head at the thought. “We have to tell Marian. After we get that book. So unless you have a better idea, we’re meeting Abraham to make the trade.” I drained what was left of my frozen soda water, knocking the glass back down to the bar.

It shattered in my hand.

The room quieted around me, and I could feel the eyes—nonhuman eyes, some gold and others black as the Tunnels themselves—staring back at me. I ducked my head from view.

The bartender made a face, and I glanced at the door from the corner of my eye—half-expecting to see my Uncle Macon standing there. The bartender was staring. “Those are some eyes you’ve got.”

Rid shot me a look. “Hers? One of them didn’t take,” she said casually. “You know how it goes.” We waited in our seats, nervous and tense. You didn’t want to attract too much attention at Exile, not when you only had one gold eye to show for it.

The bartender studied me for another moment, then nodded and checked his watch. “Yeah. I know how it goes.” This time he glanced at the door. He’d probably already made the call to my uncle.

That rat.

“You’re going to need all the help you can get, Cuz.”

“What are you saying, Rid?”

“I’m saying it looks like I’m going to have to rescue you fools again.” She flicked a piece of broken glass off the counter.

“Rescue us how?”

“You leave that to me. Turns out I’m not just another pretty face. Well, I’m that, too.” She smiled, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “All this and another pretty face.”

Even her smart mouth seemed halfhearted to me now. I wondered if Ethan’s disappearance was getting to her as much as the rest of us.

My instincts were still right about one thing.