Ariyal breathed in deeply. “The plants he’s using are grown only by the fey.”
Her surprise hardened to suspicion. “Do you know what he’s concocting?”
He shrugged. “I would guess it’s a potion used to keep him from aging. Mages are humans and must use magical herbs to make them immortal.”
The suspicion remained.
No big surprise.
“You’re sure it’s not a spell he’s about to cast?”
“He’s a dark mage.”
“Yeah, I got that,” she snapped impatiently. “All the more likely he’s about to create some nasty potion, right?”
He studied her pale, perfect face. It was impossible to determine a vampire’s age. Jaelyn could be a few decades old or several millennia. But he suspected that she was barely out of her foundling years, despite her skills as a Hunter. There were too many gaps in her knowledge for her to be an ancient.
“His power comes from blood.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Blood magic was a perverted form of true magic. “Either his own or that of a sacrifice.”
Her gaze weighed his open revulsion toward Sergei. “And your power?” she demanded.
“A gift from nature.”
It was the truth, and yet Jaelyn’s gaze narrowed as she sensed he was keeping something hidden.
“There’s more.”
He hesitated. He preferred to keep a few of his lesser-known skills ... lesser known. It was, after all, his secret tolerance to iron that had allowed him to escape from Jaelyn just days ago.
Who the hell knew when he might need another surprise or two?
But her expression warned that she wasn’t going to stop nagging until she was satisfied with his answer.
Dammit.
“When necessary I can draw on the powers of others,” he admitted between clenched teeth.
She stiffened. “How exactly does that work?”
“Relax, poppet,” he assured her dryly. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I need power from a leech.”
She studied him, not entirely convinced. “Hmmm.”
He made a sound of impatience, pointed toward the nearby townhouse.
“Can you sense the child?”
Her lips thinned, as if she was annoyed to have to be reminded of why they were lingering in the foggy night.
“No,” she muttered, “but I think the spell that guards the baby prevents me from being able to scent it.” She tilted back her head, allowing her acute senses to absorb her surroundings. She abruptly turned to regard him with a hint of bewilderment. “The Sylvermyst is missing.”
He nodded. “Tearloch left just before your dramatic arrival.”
“He left? Do you know where he was headed?”
His lips twisted. “South.”
Her annoyance intensified. “You know what I mean. I find it hard to believe he would willingly leave behind the baby after he went postal trying to track it down.”