Prophecy of Magic E-Book

Dima Zales

• Herausgeber: Mozaika Publications
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Find my long-lost birth parents? Check.

Kiss the man I've been crushing on for years? Check.

Finally kick back and enjoy my happy ending? Yeah, no such luck.

With literal demons out to kill me and my loved ones in trouble, I'm starting to wonder if I'll make it out of this one alive...

Leseprobe

Prophecy of Magic

Sasha Urban Series: Book 6

Dima Zales

♠ Mozaika Publications ♠

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Sneak Peek at The Thought Readers

About the Author

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2019 Dima Zales and Anna Zaires

www.dimazales.com

All rights reserved.

Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

Published by Mozaika Publications, an imprint of Mozaika LLC.

www.mozaikallc.com

Cover by Orina Kafe

www.orinakafe-art.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-63142-498-4 

ISBN-13: 978-1-63142-499-1

Chapter One

My biological mother is Lilith.

As in, the mother of demons from human legend.

The same Lilith who made herself a god on one of the Otherlands and kept my biological father, Rasputin, in a dungeon, with occasional torture thrown in for good measure.

Yeah, okay.

Getting up, I grab some clothes as I attempt to process all this.

My mother is an ultra-rare Cognizant with double powers—that of a vampire and probability manipulator. She was going to raise me in such a horrible way that Rasputin had to steal me away and hide me on Earth with my non-Cognizant parents. And now, armed with my full name, she’s looking for me.

What does she want with me? Somehow, I doubt she’s hoping we go to a yoga retreat together.

Not that this is my biggest concern right now. My vision started off with her looking for Nero. She wants revenge for what he did on her world.

He’s potentially in more trouble than I am.

Accidentally putting my right foot into the left leg of my jeans, I nearly faceplant. Catching myself on my desk, I finish dressing and locate my phone.

Wow.

I have countless missed calls from Mom, my adoptive—but no less real—mother.

Is she back from her trip? Or does she want to stay in Paris longer?

Oh, and I also have a few missed calls from my adoptive dad—and he definitely should be back from his vacation by now.

Great. I got so busy seeking my biological parents, I abandoned my real ones—which is just unacceptable. Mom and Dad are the people who raised me. They should always matter to me more than the virtual stranger that is Rasputin.

And let’s not even start on Lilith.

The good news is that Mom doesn’t seem to be in panic mode just yet; she’d be calling nonstop if that were the case. Or maybe she’s beyond panic mode and in a new phase I haven’t seen yet?

But no. Then she’d be over here. That, or have the cops looking for me.

Deciding to deal with the potential life-and-death situation of Lilith seeking revenge first, I call Nero.

He doesn’t pick up, so I leave a voicemail urging him to call me back.

Usually my boss is pretty quick to get back in touch, but seconds tick by and nothing happens.

So as not to go crazy, I make my way into the bathroom and do my morning routine.

When I’m done washing up, I text Nero to call me back now, and my eyes don’t leave the phone as I walk to the kitchen.

No reply.

Felix and Fluffster are both eating oatmeal when I walk in, and the cat is munching on her Fancy Feast. Looking up from her plate, she gives me a look that seems to say, “Another peasant Our Majesty has to patiently tolerate. Our mercy knows no bounds.”

Felix is holding a spoon in one hand and a phone in the other. “Maya, I’m really sorry,” he says over the food in his mouth. “I wasn’t ignoring your calls and texts; I was in a place with no reception. I’ll explain—”

Ah.

So I’m not the only one in trouble for going incommunicado. Felix wasn’t reachable either—and is now having to explain himself to my almost-eighteen-year-old friend from Orientation.

Oh, and the guilty way he’s defending himself makes it official.

He and Maya are dating.

“Sasha,” Fluffster says mentally. “You’re up early. How are you feeling?”

“One sec,” I mumble and email Nero an even more pointed demand to get in touch.

Noticing me, Felix rattles out more apologies to Maya, explains that he can’t talk right now, and hangs up.

As I wait for Nero to reply, I grab a bowl and ladle some oatmeal into it.

“Are you okay?” Felix asks, his unibrow quivering as he eyes me quizzically. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No,” I say after I swallow my first blissful spoonful of nourishment. “I learned something this morning that’s really disturbing.”

Checking my phone for Nero’s reply every few seconds, I proceed to tell them about my vision of Lilith.

A stunned silence follows, with no one but the cat eating.

“I don’t know what to say,” Felix finally mutters. “That… thing is your mother?”

I grimace. “I know. And now I can’t reach Nero. I hope she didn’t get to him somehow.”

“Nero can take care of himself,” Felix says confidently. “This is Earth. Lilith can’t do the stunts from her world here.”

“But Nero can’t turn into a dragon on a whim either,” Fluffster says. “Maybe that evens things out?”

“Right,” I say, the food feeling like a brick in my belly. “But why is Nero not calling me back?”

“He could be in a meeting,” Felix says. “Give him a few minutes before you start to freak out.”

“You’re right.” I spoon more oatmeal into my mouth. “I’ll give him until I’m done with breakfast.”

As I chew, an idea occurs to me—something I should’ve done right away but forgot in my panic.

I can look at Nero’s future to make sure he’s okay.

Eagerly focusing, I end up in Headspace and dwell on Nero’s essence. For good measure, I add my very complex feelings for Nero to the summons, mimicking what Rasputin does when he wants a vision about someone. I even go as far as to remind myself that we’ve had an intimate encounter where Nero pleasured me but didn’t give in to his own desire out of fear of losing control and hurting me—whatever that entails.

My work pays off.

A bunch of safe-seeming shapes show up around me, and I reach for the most promising one.

I’m bodiless—which means the vision doesn’t include me.

Nero is in his office in the club on Gomorrah. Walking up to the wall, he opens the safe.

Reverently, he takes out the sword he left there yesterday—the sword I came to think of as mine. It’s made of something like the technology of the gates, and Lilith used it to kill Nero in one of my visions.

Is he planning to attack Lilith with it? If so, does he know she’s already on Earth? Rasputin did warn him that since she has Nero’s blood, she’ll be coming for him out of vindictiveness. Then again, Nero said he was going to leave to go look for Claudia regardless. Is that what he’s about to do? Go after this woman whom he thought dead but has just discovered is alive?

Is he leaving me without so much as a goodbye?

Nero presses the button on the sword hilt, and the shimmering lightsaber-like blade shows up, illuminating his menacing expression.

Nodding, he presses the button again to hide the blade.

I’m back at the kitchen table in my apartment.

Felix and Fluffster are talking about something, but my thoughts are with Nero.

This vision explains why he didn’t reply to my calls, emails, and texts.

He’s probably already on Gomorrah, about to do what I just saw in that vision.

As upset as I am about his leaving, I’m also relieved. From now until the near future in my vision, he’s safe. And since he’s in his own club on Gomorrah and has that sword, he’s better equipped to deal with Lilith.

Still, for good measure, I go into Headspace and focus on Lilith again.

Examining my biological mother, I notice more resemblances between the two of us, from pale skin to a certain mischievous glint in her eyes.

She’s standing next to the Apple store with a new-looking iPhone next to her ear.

Interesting.

She’s either adjusting to modernity annoyingly well or has been on a world with our level of technology before.

Soon, this goddess of evil will be texting eggplant emojis to her minions and posting pictures of her disemboweled victims on Instagram… or pinning them on Pinterest for other evil gods (or my new cat) to admire.

“No, that will take too long,” Lilith says in an annoyed tone into the phone. “I’ll text you what path to take through the Otherlands. If you follow my instructions correctly, you should be here in—”

My vision cuts out before I can eavesdrop on more of that cryptic conversation, so I go right back into Headspace—but this time, my vision isn’t of Lilith talking on the phone.

It’s of her walking out of the Giorgio Armani store in Midtown, dressed as if for a cover of a fashion magazine.

Well, that’s reassuring as far as evil priorities go.

How did she even pay for those threads? Does vampire glamour work when those kinds of prices are involved?

“I still can’t believe she’s your mother,” Fluffster says in my head when I come out of Headspace. “Does that mean you’ve inherited her powers?”

Numbly, I stare at my chinchilla domovoi.

I haven’t considered the genetics aspect of this yet.

“It’s unlikely,” Felix replies in my stead. “Double powers like Lilith’s are rare, let alone triple powers.”

“But I’ve always been pale,” I say, shifting my gaze to my hands. My fingers, locked spasmodically around a spoon, are so white I could’ve been an albino. Frowning, I look up. “Does it mean I’m a pre-vamp?”

Felix adds some brown sugar to his bowl and shrugs. “There’s no way to know for sure until you’ve lived a long time without showing any signs of aging. Even then, my understanding is that not all pre-vamps—or at least people who think they’re pre-vamps—turn into vampires when they die.”

I draw in a calming breath and focus on stirring my oatmeal. “Well, that’s just bad terminology then. The suffix ‘pre’ makes it seem like a sure thing. Given what you’re saying, the term should be ‘maybe-vamp’ or ‘hopefully vamp.’” Then something occurs to me. “Wait, no. I’m not a pre-vamp. I’ve seen myself die in visions before, and I didn’t turn into a vampire when that happened. My dead body would just lie there.”

“Then you’re probably not a pre-vamp,” Felix agrees, and I exhale in a mixture of relief and disappointment. As cool as it would be to not die and have all the vampire powers, I don’t know how I feel about the blood-drinking thing.

“What about probability manipulation?” Fluffster chimes in. “How can we know if Sasha inherited that?”

“There are no physical characteristics like paleness that I know of,” Felix says. “Tricksters don’t like seers, and Sasha is a seer—which makes me doubt she can be both, but I have no rational basis to prove this.”

“Wouldn’t I have more luck in my life if I were a probability manipulator?” I ask, remembering all my recent misadventures.

“I don’t think that being a probability manipulator prevents all bad things from happening to you.” Felix picks up a large spoonful of oatmeal. “The universe is just too chaotic for one person to fully bend it to their trickster power.” He shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“You might have a point,” I say. “Chester lost his wife and his seat on the Council—though I guess that last one doesn’t count since Nero might give it back to him.”

“I’d learn more about tricksters if I were you,” Fluffster suggests.

“I’ll chat with Chester,” I say. “He actually owes me some lessons about his power.”

“Interesting how he owes you the very thing you need,” Felix says over the remnants of food in his mouth. “How lucky.”

“I have a feeling I’m now going to question every happy coincidence,” I say. “Oh, and if I am a probability manipulator, I wonder if my TV prediction gave me a power boost in that regard. When that performance was on YouTube, many comments said I just got lucky with my prediction—meaning tons of people believe in my luck.”

“It’s possible,” Felix says thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I wonder if some of the stuff we’ve attributed to your seer abilities are due to luck… like, say, your stock picks.”

The mention of stocks reminds me of Nero, and I check my phone.

Nope. No response. If I want to talk to him about his plans, Claudia, and what’s going on between us, I need to catch him in his club on Gomorrah—and since I don’t know when the events in that vision will take place, I better hurry.

Then I recall something important I’ve been meaning to ask Felix. “Can you hide my online presence?” I blurt before I can forget again. “Lilith knows my name, and she might google me.”

“I’ll do it on my way to work. Speaking of that”—Felix looks at the clock and cringes—“I better run.”

“Wait, one more thing,” I say. “Can you figure out who Lilith was speaking with on the phone?”

He looks at me blankly, so I tell him about her cell phone conversation in my vision.

“That’s not a lot to go on,” he says, frowning. “Do you know her number, or the number of the person she called?”

“I’d tell you if I did,” I say.

“Right. Sorry. I’ll do my best when I have time, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” Felix says.

“Fair enough,” I say.

Shoveling the remainder of his food into his mouth, he jumps up and sprints for the door.

I follow his example, swallowing my food without chewing as I jump to my feet. He’s already gone by the time I get to the hallway and put on my shoes.

Stepping out, I see Thalia—my non-speaking nun/martial arts trainer/bodyguard—and a guy I’ve never met before.

A distractingly attractive guy with perfect facial features that make him look like one of the Hemsworth brothers. He has a Mandate aura, which means that unlike some other guards Nero had assigned to me, this guy is some kind of Cognizant.

“Hi, Sasha.” The new guy’s smile rivals Ariel’s in its perfection. “My name is Eric. Nero asked me to help Thalia make sure you’re comfortable in your apartment.”

“Comfortable?” I look them both over. “Were you instructed to keep me prisoner here?”

Chapter Two

Thalia gravely nods, then turns away, about to leave.

“No, wait. I need to go somewhere.” I instinctively grab her shoulder.

The nun moves as she would on the training mat. Grabbing my wrist, she sidesteps behind me and painfully twists my arm behind my back.

To my shock, Eric grabs the nun’s wrist. “No one’s allowed to hurt her. Nero was very clear on this. That includes you.”

Thalia rolls her eyes but lets me go without a fight. She then takes out her phone and types out:

Sorry, but you’re going to have to take a little staycation.

With that, she goes to summon the elevator.

“I’ll get you whatever you need,” Eric says soothingly as he herds me back toward the door. “Food, movie rentals, magic books—you name it, someone will fetch it for you.”

“I have an urgent matter that I need to discuss with Nero,” I say, digging my heels in when I’m a foot away from the apartment. “Do you have a way to reach him?”

Thalia shrugs before entering the elevator, and Eric says, “He warned me he’d be unavailable and asked me to apologize to you about this in advance.”

“I find that last bit very hard to believe,” I say, desperately thinking of a way to bypass Eric.

The elevator closes, taking Thalia away.

“Don’t worry,” Eric says. “It’s not just me and Thalia guarding you. I have people surrounding this building—including the back entrance. No one can come in without me knowing.”

Implication being that no one can leave without Eric knowing it also.

Well, let’s see how good he is at his job then.

I convince myself that I’m going to just run for it—which isn’t hard, as I’m itching to do it. Next, I inhale a deep breath and jump into Headspace.

The shapes around me seem unpleasant but not deadly.

Going on instinct, I reach for one.

“Fair enough,” I say to Eric and turn back toward the door, my muscles coiling for a sprint.

“Give me a shout if you need anything,” he says.

Without a reply, I leap to the side and sprint for the staircase—just to bump into Eric’s hard body.

Wow.

He must have super speed, to get in my way so quickly.

“Please, Sasha,” Eric says, steadying me by my arms. “Just go home.”

Huffing, I twist away and walk back into the apartment.

Back in reality, I jump back into Headspace and attempt a few more visions of escape. In each, Eric thwarts me, and in some, he carries me home with varying levels of kicking and screaming on my part.

Exiting Headspace for the last time, I enter the apartment and slam the door in Eric’s face.

Pacing the hallway, I strain to come up with a way out of this unfortunate predicament.

Could I threaten him with a gun? Bluff my way out?

The problem is that I left my gun in the lab near the JFK hub.

I go into Ariel’s room and look for a gun she might’ve stashed there. She takes her Second Amendment rights very seriously, so I have a chance.

After a long search, I locate a pair of handcuffs in her nightstand, two knives in her closet, and a box of bullets under her bed—but no gun.

I don’t want to give up, though. There has to be another way out of the apartment.

I resume pacing until I see Fluffster staring at me quizzically—which is when an idea occurs to me.

I quickly explain the situation to the chinchilla and head for the door.

“Hi, Eric.” I smile at the guard when I open it. “I’m sorry if I was cranky earlier. Nero gets under my skin, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“No sweat.” He beams at me. “I don’t like this either. I thought I’d be a bodyguard, not some jailer. But I owe Nero a favor, and he said this is to keep you safe, so…”

“Do you want some coffee or tea?” I say as nonchalantly as possible. “Maybe a chair, so you don’t have to stand here in the hallway?”

His smile widens. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

“Awesome,” I say and head into the kitchen.

Eric enters the apartment without an invitation, so he’s not a vampire—not that I thought he was, with that perfectly tanned skin of his.

When he follows me into the kitchen, I hand him an espresso and say, “Oh crap. I forgot to take off my shoes.”

As I start to leave, Eric downs the drink on a single gulp and moves to follow me—until Fluffster walks into his path.

“Actually,” I say, dropping the friendly tone. “I think it would be best if you stayed in the kitchen.”

Using that as his cue, Fluffster changes into his monster form.

He doesn’t look as terrifying as when he killed Harper-the-succubus, but it’s enough to raise my blood pressure, and I’m not the one in danger.

“Nero told me you might try this,” Eric says calmly and sighs. “I was hoping he was wrong about that.”

I stare at him in confusion. How powerful is he not to be afraid of a domovoi protecting its own house?

Then again, Nero asked this guy to guard me. Given my penchant for making powerful enemies, he would have to be pretty formidable.

With an exaggerated sigh, Eric poofs out of existence in front of my eyes as if he was never there.

I rub my eyes.

Nope. He’s gone.

I look at Fluffster. He returns to his cute chinchilla shape and also looks confused.

“Are you invisible?” Arms outstretched, I grope around the kitchen air like a lunatic but find no sign of Eric.

There’s a knock on the front door.

I go to open it—and find Eric standing there, looking smug.

“How?” I demand. “You were just in my kitchen.”

“I can teleport.” Eric’s chest puffs up, making him look like a penguin. “If the guards downstairs warn me of danger, I’m supposed to teleport you away to safety.” He looks at Fluffster. “I hope your domovoi isn’t going to stop me from performing my duties?”

“Of course not,” Fluffster says with a swish of his puffy tail.

So a teleporter, huh? Hekima did mention teleporting power at one of the Orientations. He said it’s rare—but I guess if someone knew a teleporter, it would be Nero.

I’m about to pepper Eric with questions about his power when the elevator dings and its doors start to open.

With grim determination, Eric snatches my wrist and tenses—apparently ready to teleport me away from danger.

To my shock, my mother steps out of the elevator.

Chapter Three

My real mom, that is, not Lilith.

The expression on her face makes me think that she has entered a new phase of worrying about me that’s beyond her usual ‘panic mode.’

Crap. I should’ve called her as soon as I discovered those missed phone calls.

At the sight of me in the doorway, relief flashes across her face, then morphs into indignation. But before she can say anything, her gaze lands on Eric, and she looks both confused and impressed.

“Don’t,” I hiss at Eric and try to pull away.

If he teleports me now, he’ll break the Mandate and probably give my mom a heart attack to boot.

But it looks like I didn’t have to warn him. Something about my mom—most likely her lack of Mandate aura—makes Eric let go of my wrist as if I suddenly developed a bad case of cooties.

“Mrs. Ballard.” He hits Mom with a smile so charming, you’d expect him to save a Disney princess at any moment. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Wow. Nero really prepared this guy for his duty. Unless he's always prepared my guards so thoroughly, and I just didn’t realize it?

Instead of replying, Mom blushes like a medieval maiden who’s never seen an attractive man before.

“As I was saying, Eric.” I pointedly clear my throat. “Ariel isn’t home, but she’ll be back before you know it.”

“Right,” he says and winks at me in such a way that Mom can’t see it. “I’ll wait here for Ariel so that I can surprise her when she steps out of that elevator. Thank you.”

“Yeah.” I fight to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Good thinking.” Waving at my Eric-gaping parent, I say, “Come on, Mom, let me make you some of your favorite tea.”

She peels her eyes away from my guard and follows me into the apartment.

Once inside, she gives me a disappointed look. “So that man is dating Ariel, not you?”

Is this a prelude to the whole “I want grandchildren” conversation? If so, I have to be careful as that topic can take all day—and I don’t have the luxury of “accidentally” losing a phone call or having my Skype “cut out.”

“He and Ariel belong together,” I say, leading her into the kitchen. “In any case, I’m already seeing someone else.”

As I speak, I wonder if I’m lying. I almost wish I were Pinocchio, so I could see what would happen to my nose.

Mom sits down at the table, her eyes shining with excitement. “Who? How? Tell me all the details.”

If only I could manipulate my enemies as easily as this. I have Mom now—hook, line, and sinker.

“It’s still early, so I don’t want to jinx it by talking about him.” I place my phone on the table in case Nero calls, then put on the kettle. “Knowing you, you’d like him. I’m sure of that.”

Of course she would. Nero is the richest person I know, and that carries a lot of weight in my mom’s book. Once she learns that and she sees how attractive he is, there will be no end to the baby hints. She wouldn’t care that he’s my boss or a dragon—not that she would ever learn about the latter.

“That’s wise,” Mom says, nodding sagely. “Tell me after it’s more official.”

Yep, that worked as expected. She believes in the evil eye and stuff like that, so the idea of jinxing a new relationship makes perfect sense to her—and the relationship bit is a great distraction from my disappearance.

“I just got back,” I say, deciding to really push my luck. “He took me on a romantic getaway, and we left both our phones at home. When I saw your calls a couple of minutes ago, I realized I should’ve let you know about the trip before leaving, but it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and I thought you were still in Paris, so—”

“Oh, sweetie.” Her eyes gleam brightly. “I understand completely. In fact, it must be kismet because I, too, have met someone in Paris. He was there on business, and the reason I’m back is so that he and I can spend more time together—but I also don’t want to jinx things by talking about him too much.”

Wow.

Mom has met someone?

That’s huge.

And, despite what she says, it’s clear she’s itching to tell me all about it.

“Is he from New York?” I put a couple of different teabags into Mom’s cup and pour in the boiling water. “Is he tall? I’m sure it’s safe for you to tell me that much.”

“I’ll tell you everything when things get more serious,” Mom says with a self-discipline even Thalia would envy.

“Can’t blame you,” I say. “What else is—”

My phone rings.

We both look at it.

The caller is Dad—as in, the man who raised me and Mom’s former husband.

Mom’s expression is hard to read, but I can guess she doesn’t like this.

“I love you both, Mom,” I say as I reach for the phone. “I’d never choose him over you, I swear.”

“That’s nice,” she says blandly. “You should take the call, though; I think I know why he’s calling.”

Confused, I pick up the phone.

“Sasha?” My dad sounds panicky—something that never happens.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a man here not letting me ring your doorbell,” he says. “Is everything okay? Your mother—”

“Wait, what? You’re at the door? Here in New York?”

“Yes. And—”

“Hold on.” I rush over to the door and open it.

Eric, who’s blocking Dad’s path, looks at me questioningly.

I guess Nero left him a dossier that included my local mom but not my out-of-town dad.

“Let my father through, please,” I say. “Ariel should be home any minute now.”

“Right.” Eric clears his throat and moves out of the way. “Sorry about that. Ariel—my girlfriend—told me someone was prank-ringing her doorbell, so I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dad says. “I’m just glad Sasha is alive.”

Alive?

Baffled, I usher Dad into the apartment. “Why wouldn’t I be alive?”

“Makenzie,” Dad says with exaggerated cordiality as Mom comes up to us.

“Braxton.” She nods, her tone cool but not as nasty as I’d expect.

“What’s going on?” I look from one parental unit to the other.

“This might be my fault,” Mom says, her gaze dropping to her impeccable Louis Vuitton pumps. “I couldn’t reach you, and since I knew the two of you started talking, I called him to see if he knew where you were.”

Oh. I forgot about the past-panic-mode freak-out. Apparently, when she’s worried about me enough, Mom is willing to call the devil himself.

I guess it’s touching, in an insane sort of way.

“I jumped on a plane to come find you,” Dad says. “But I guess you weren’t all that lost.”

“She had a good reason for her disappearance,” Mom says defensively—even though Dad didn’t sound the least bit accusing, just relieved. “It was just a feminine matter.” She looks at him challengingly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Dad pales.

I bet he just pictured me getting a back-alley abortion or uterine cancer.

“The good news is that I’m totally and absolutely fine,” I say before this bizarre conversation turns into a fight—and I don’t need seer powers to know that future is nigh.

Is that why I have a bad feeling creeping up, one that reminds me of my usual seer warnings, but not as directed?

I am a trouble magnet, so maybe this is my powers warning me about my human parents being so close to me? After all, if Lilith arrived here right now, Eric would likely only teleport me away, not them.

That does it. My intuitions aren’t something I can afford to ignore, so my parents have to go.

“The good news is that I got to see you both,” I say, frantically working out a swift exit strategy. “We should definitely make plans to properly hang out soon—but not right this moment because I have a crazy pile-up of work.”

“Oh,” they both say disappointedly. It’s admirable how they thought they were going to tolerate each other’s presence and hang out with me like two civilized adults.

And hey, maybe they could have. I mean, they’re still civil, and that’s already monumental progress.

“Call me when you’re free this weekend,” I say to them. “And, Dad, if you have to go back, no worries. I’ll fly out to see you as soon as my schedule allows.”

To my surprise, Mom smiles approvingly.

Did meeting a new man help her move on? Or is it the bonding experience of “losing me?”

“Right,” Dad says to me, then turns to Mom. “We should let Sasha work.”

“You have a cat now?” Mom asks, spotting Lucifur—who’s looking at everyone with a malevolent expression on her flat face. “What happened to the furry rat creature?”

“Yes. That’s Luci.” I herd both parents toward the door. “Fluffster is doing well, Mom, don’t worry. He and the cat are besties now.”

Hearing his name, Fluffster shows up from the living room.

“A chinchilla?” Dad exclaims, and I guiltily realize he’s never been to my place or even heard about Fluffster’s existence. “You’ll have to tell me about that, and the cat, when we hang out,” he says.

“And me about the cat,” Mom adds jealously.

“I will,” I say as I open the door. “I promise.”

They reluctantly exit.

“Hello,” Eric says to my parents. “Let me summon the elevator for you two.”

Before they reply, he does as he offered, and the elevator opens right away. It must have not left since Dad got here.

My parents walk in, and as the doors close, I belatedly realize that having them ride down together might not be the best idea. Then again, if a cat and a sort-of rodent can share an apartment, those two can survive a single elevator ride. Still, I make a mental note to use a vision later to make sure they made it out with their sanities intact.

“Crap,” I say to Eric as an impromptu idea pops into my head. “I forgot to give Mom something. I’m going to run down and give it to her.”

“Of course,” Eric says. “We’ll go together.”

Smart. But maybe he still doesn’t get what I’m trying to do. Let’s see. “Actually,” I say nonchalantly, “maybe you can just catch her for me and give this to her?”

Not letting him reply, I run back into the apartment, relocate Mom’s tea into a paper cup, and rush out to give it to Eric.

“Sure thing.” Eric takes the cup and poofs out of existence.

I run for the stairs, but before I’m halfway to the next floor, I spot Eric already standing there, waiting for me with a smile.

Damn him and his teleportation.

How am I ever going to escape?

Chapter Four

Thinking ahead, I pretend not to notice Eric there and run down, smacking into him with a loud plop.

The tea cup flies to the floor, and the shock of the impact gives me a moment to get a little revenge on Eric.

Before he catches on to my sneaky business, I say, “Hey. That hurt.”

“You should watch where you’re running,” Eric says, nonplussed, as he picks up the now-empty cup. “In general, I’d appreciate it if you could avoid unnecessary physical contact with me going forward. I don’t want to break Nero’s orders, even by accident.”

Nero asked him not to touch me? What about my opinion on the matter? Maybe I want Eric to touch me. I mean, I definitely don’t, but many women would and the restriction is annoying, to say the least. Only I should decide who does or doesn’t touch me.

“Let’s go.” Eric gestures for me to lead the way.

“Maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” I say when we’re halfway to our destination. “My problem isn’t with you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Eric says. “If you stop making my job so hard, I’ll call us even.”

“Sure,” I lie. “Also, I was wondering if you could spare some guards from your retinue to look after my folks?”

Eric clears his throat. “Nero already has people watching them,” he says after a pause. “They were here with them; your parents just didn’t know that.”

I recall Nero saying something along those lines before, but I didn’t realize he’d kept on watching over my parents even after the threat of Baba Yaga was neutralized. After I give him a piece of my mind about my incarceration, I’ll have to also thank him for looking after them.

I guess his annoying habit of hiring guards to stalk people is a double-edged sword.

When we reach my door, I give Eric a puppy-eyed look and sweetly say, “Listen. I just want to meet Nero in Gomorrah. You can personally take me to him, and if we see any danger, you can teleport me away from it. Once I’m with Nero, I would be safer than—”

“The scenario you describe is something Nero forbade explicitly,” Eric says, not unkindly. “It’s too dangerous where he’s headed.”

“Oh, come on. I saved his life not once but twice now,” I say indignantly. What Eric is saying supports my earlier “save Claudia” theory, and I don’t like that one bit.

The guard gives me a look that seems to say, “I didn’t make up the rules, I just follow them.”

I decide to try another tack. “What about my work? Nero would want me to—”

“Your offices are being repaired, so you’re going to work from home,” Eric says. “Then again, I doubt a lot will be required of you in that department any time soon.”

No work? Nero must really be preoccupied with his quest.

Gritting my teeth, I enter the apartment and slam the door in Eric’s face.

As I do so, I realize that it didn’t even occur to me to tell my parents about my newly discovered biological origins. Then again, I don’t think I’ll ever do that. Not only would it upset Mom, but it’s all tied up with Cognizant stuff, and talking about it would mean bleeding from everywhere as the best-case scenario.

Blowing out a breath to calm myself, I take out the wallet I pickpocketed from Eric when I bumped into him on the stairs.

Hopefully, there’s blackmail material inside.

Sadly, all I find are a dozen movie-ticket stubs to a bunch of recent superhero flicks, a picture of a good-looking elderly woman who is probably his mom, cash, and a slew of credit cards and IDs.

There goes that idea. Unless Eric is very embarrassed of his Costco membership, I have nothing to blackmail him with.

Could I use my skills as an illusionist instead?

Going to my stash of magic paraphernalia, I take stock of the myriad options in front of me.

Fake levitation and coin manipulation would be pretty useless, as would anything involving cards.