Witches Burn at Dawn ✔

39. Bogdan

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I know something bad has happened when I see Yara and Mir leave the apartment in a hurry.

I watch from the shadow across the sunlit street, my curiosity spiking. Mir glances in my direction, acknowledging my presence, before getting into his car, but doesn't say anything to Yara. They drive too fast for a human to follow, and that's the sole reason I enjoy being no human--I follow them like a breeze.

The air around the library where Nilam's club is hidden in the basement tastes of magic, electrified and bittersweet. Yet the place is dark and empty inside, the lights over the dancefloor off, no music. Normally, I wouldn't be able to step here for Nilam has quite a number of protective runes adorning the walls, but since I have stepped, I suppose the fresh blood is to thank. Wherever blood is spilled, a demon can walk.

"What happened?" Mir demands, his macabrely flat. The blondie, Kadri, only stares at him in return, confused. And the tall boy beside her, Adélard, is about to say something, but the question is not for him. Mir's eyes settle on the stocky bearded bartender who sits in the corner with his head in his hands. "Charlie?"

Charlie looks up, his shoulders sagging. "I don't know. I just came and saw... him. Nilam kept saying to call you five if something happened. You're sort of a lawyer, aren't you, Praejis? I've dealt with the drunk and the violent at the parties, but"--his gaze flicks to the staircase--"not this. Who could do such a thing? Are they after me, too? Do I call the cops? What do I tell them, then? This place officially doesn't exist, I have tons of illegal booze and--"

Yara's stifled shriek cuts Charlie off. I follow her gaze and now, too, notice blood trickling down the steps. In the dimness, it glitters like garnet. It jars me how next second, Yara's fingers slip into Mir's palm, seeking support, how his hand clasps hers without thinking. She trusts him now? She can't trust him.

"Charlie, did you see anyone else here?" Mir asks.

"Save for you who I called? No."

"Didn't see? Or don't remember seeing?"

"Is there a difference?"

Yara doesn't listen anymore. She runs upstairs, so I go after her. The scent of magic is stronger in the room where Yara leads me, and I almost lose myself in it for a moment, forgetting where dark energy ends and my mind starts. It always happens like that, and this is the tricky part I don't enjoy--being an undead demon means walking and seeing both worlds. I can see Yara, the sun seeping in through the window, the colorful gems on the shelf, but if unfocus my vision, if I let it go just for a beat, the world of the dead clouds it all. It's rotten, it's starless, it stinks of forsaken souls. A whispering void, where magic has infected and conquered everything.

I can't stay here. I need Mir's sigil scar, or Yara's--or anyone's!--to work, to make me corporeal again, to anchor me to the living. Vlad's book promised me powers, but it didn't warn me I'd be damned to be a part of this power.

"Nilam?" Faltering in the doorway, Yara then lunges into the room. Her voice moors me back to the living colors.

Nilam looks worse than I imagined. Ashen, he is laid on the floor in the center like a grotesque statue robbed of its breath that makes a flesh human. Emptiness has fogged his eyes, feasting where his soul used to reside. Blood covers practically every inch of his skin, pooling around his limbs, trailing to the door and smearing the wall beside its wooden frame. I squint at the smears. They look odd as if Nilam tried to write something with blood. Z...Zagovor? What does it have to do with the restaurant?

A sob escapes from Yara's lips, but she doesn't cry. I wish to console her, but even if all the sorcerous stuff in this room is enough to make me visible for a while, I'm not sure it's enough to give me my voice.