Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown #2) - Keri Arthur Page 0,100

her,” Mo said. “She has a few commitments she needs to look after first, but should be here within a week or so.”

“A week or so might be too late,” Luc said. “Especially if Darkside decides to flood its people through the minor gates.”

“They’ve tried that in the past. It didn’t work. Now, hush for a few minutes, you two—I need to concentrate.”

The faint caress of her energy touched the air—a gentle but very careful probe that reached for the house. The dark ribbons reacted with alacrity, snapping back and forth like the angry snakes they resembled. Mo quickly withdrew the probe, then sent it skimming skyward, angling it over the unprotected section of the roof.

“Interesting,” she murmured eventually. “I think we’d better go meet the others now.”

“What did you see?” I asked, as Luc started the car then pulled away from the curb.

“What seemed like nothing actually isn’t.”

“Meaning there is a spell laying over the roof?” Luc asked.

“Yes, but it’s little more than a general alarm. Given there’s no reason the ribbons couldn’t be employed to cover the entire building, it’s obviously a deliberate choice—especially given the open skylight is without any sort of protection.”

“It’s a trap, then.”

“Some form of, yes, and one I think we should spring.”

My head snapped around. “Are you crazy? Why?”

Amusement twinkled in her bright eyes despite her serious expression. “Sometimes the best way to snare your quarry is to be caught first in their net.”

“That depends on exactly what the net’s intention is,” Luc said.

“I don’t think capture is the intent here,” I said. “Not given the way the ribbons reacted to your probe, Mo.”

“I disagree,” she said. “Why else would they make it so easy to get in that house via the skylight?”

“Um, maybe to collapse the whole thing in on us when we’re inside it?” I said. “They’ve shown a propensity for doing that.”

“If the skylight is bait,” Luc said, “then why not subvert their plans? One of the windows on the first floor is open. You could go in through that.”

“That would mean tackling the ribbons,” I said. “And I personally don’t think that would be wise.”

“Let’s wait and see what Barney and the girls have to say before deciding on a course of action,” Mo said, in a manner that suggested she knew exactly what that course of action would be and nothing anyone said would change her mind.

Luc pulled up behind a gray VW a few houses down from the convenience store. After tugging my coat’s hood over my head to shadow my face, I climbed out of the car. A surge of energy had me looking around; Luc had disappeared.

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that really necessary?”

“Any watchers in that house may overlook two women in hooded coats hurrying toward the store.” His reply indicated he was moving around the front of the Focus. “But two women accompanied by a man bearing the manner and coloring of the Durant line? Unlikely.”

“And a door opening and closing without sign of anyone getting out or even appearing in the driver seat isn’t going to snare attention at all.”

“A door randomly opening is far less noticeable than a six-foot-two-inch man, especially given the distance. We can’t afford to be incautious, Gwen, especially when getting it wrong could get us all killed.”

And that was me told, I thought.

“Stop with the verbal foreplay, you two, and come along,” Mo said as she strode toward the store.

I hurried after her. The building was a double-story, brown-brick affair, with a front wall of glass that was covered by all sorts of advertisements. Four protective metal bollards stood halfway between the street and the store, making me wonder if ram raiding was a big problem around this area.

The door swished open as we neared; the interior was packed with shelving and grocery items. There was a payment area to our right, and to our left, a service counter and large coffee machine. A small blonde woman made coffees while a taller woman took orders from the small line of waiting customers. The scents that filled the air were rich, aromatic, and exotic, a result of not just the coffee but also all the loose herbs and spices sitting in open boxes or hanging from the ceiling.

A small, rotund figure appeared from the middle aisle and gave us a wide smile. “Mo De Montfort?”

“I’m she,” Mo said.

“Good, good, your party waits for you upstairs in the office. This way, please.”

She bustled away. We followed in single file—between