Crown of Glass Read online

  I’m trained in cognitive psychology, god damn it, Jenna thought fiercely. If I can’t keep it together, I deserve to be babied.

  She took a long, deep breath. Counted to ten. Let it out again.

  Calm down my body. Turn the situation around. If Marie was sick, I’d tell her the same thing. And she’d tell me… what?

  “Marie,” Jenna said slowly. “Thank you. I know you mean well. And that’s super generous of you. But I need to feel like an adult, no matter how sick I get. Helping you close up would make me feel better, even if it’s hard on me physically. Can you understand that?”

  Marie glanced over, surprised. Her face softened a bit. “Oh,” she said. “I… guess I can see that. I just get worried, Jenna. You know I don’t mind helping out a little more, right? It’s not your fault you got sick. It just seems so unfair to you, especially when you’re doing all this because you want to help people.”

  Jenna looked down at her bag. Her eyes burned with tears for some reason. “I’ve had people try to help me out before,” she said. “I think I get… selfish, Marie. It’s too easy for me to keep leaning harder and harder. I don’t want to lose perspective and become a burden.”

  A memory floated to the surface of her mind, unprompted and unwanted.

  A warm, comforting hand on hers. Gentle fingers smoothing back her hair. “It’s okay,” Gabe whispered. “I’ve got you, Jen.”

  “Hey.” Marie was in front of her, tugging her chin upward. Concern flickered over her features. Jenna realized she’d begun to sniffle. “Oh, Jenna.” Marie pulled her in for a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. I promise, I’ll try to ease back a little bit, okay?”

  Jenna blinked quickly. She returned the hug, in spite of herself. “It’s not you,” she said. “I’m just… there’s someone I’m kind of missing, I guess.”

  Marie pulled back, smiling sympathetically. “The past is only useful as a lesson toward the future,” she quoted. “I’m pretty sure you told me that when I was sobbing over my shitty test score.”

  Jenna reached up beneath her glasses to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah,” she said thickly. “I was feeling super nihilistic that day. But I guess it’s not bad advice.”

  Marie patted her back, and helped her up to her feet. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll get the dishes if you get the register.”

  They managed to get the place closed down in a little under half an hour, in spite of Jenna’s sickness. The cool night air was a refreshing balm against her fever — she basked in it as she walked for the metro with Marie. The nice breeze disappeared as they headed underground though, and she sighed in resignation.

  “I’m in the other direction,” Marie said, as they passed the turnstiles. “You’re on shift with me tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” said Jenna. “I’ll see you after my thesis meeting.”

  Marie’s face soured at that, but she didn’t bring up her distaste for Adrian again. “See you then,” she said reluctantly.

  Jenna watched Marie disappear down the metro stairs. Slowly, she turned for the set of stairs on the other side of the station.

  Her body ached, now that the breeze was gone. Jenna thought of the papers still ungraded inside her bag. No fiction for you tonight, she thought glumly. Oh well.

  The metro pulled in just as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Jenna picked up her pace to reach it before the doors could close.

  This time of night, the cars were mostly empty. She snagged a wide-open seat, leaning her forehead against the metro window. The cool glass felt nearly as good against her skin as the breeze had done.

  A strange feeling gently pinged against her senses. She frowned and opened her eyes, glancing around the car.

  Something moved, just at the edge of her vision. Jenna turned — and caught sight of her own reflection, staring back at her from another metro window.

  Her heart thumped harder in her chest.

  “He’s not everywhere,” she whispered. She repeated the mantra, forcing the logic against her fears. “He’s not always watching. He can’t be.”

  Had her reflection really just rippled slightly, or was her panicked mind just playing tricks on her?

  “Arriving at Dufferin. Dufferin Station.” The Toronto transit’s usual female voice filtered over the metro speakers, breaking Jenna out of her trance.

  She surged unsteadily to her feet, scrambling for the metro doors.

  The cool air outside was less reassuring this time. Jenna’s breath came more quickly. Her head felt dizzy.

  By the time she made it to her apartment door, her hands were shaking on the keys. She opened the door, but paused before stepping in, feeling paranoid.

  Jenna opened her Witchsight on the wards that kept her home safe, inspecting them for any sign of tampering. What she saw was more metaphor than literal — a mixture of impressions and feelings, transformed into something vaguely visual. A shimmering curtain of light veiled the threshold between the apartment building’s hallway and the space past the door that could be properly called her home. To her, the light felt welcoming, familiar — it was her own magic, after all. Any other supernatural creature would find it subtly uncomfortable. Someone who tried to enter without first securing her permission would find themselves battered by maddened thoughts, forced into a psychological dissociation she’d crafted into the wards herself.

  The wards seemed unbroken, no matter how Jenna prodded at them with her Witchsight. She let out a long breath, and stepped inside.

  The moment she set foot beyond that doorway, Jenna felt herself breathe easier. Her wards embraced her like an old friend, offering a reassuring sense of safety.

  As she closed the door behind her, Jenna glanced up at the moonstone-inlaid pentagram she’d hung over her doorframe. It was still solidly connected to the veil of light that surrounded the rest of the apartment, though she knew it was getting time to renew the spell. If she’d been able to make permanent changes to the walls, or maybe to the door, Jenna could have gone a full month before refreshing the wards — but since her landlord wasn’t super thrilled with that idea, she was forced to renew them every week instead.

  Jenna often lamented that she’d been born a Cancer witch. Her old mentor Elaine was a Taurus who could anchor her magic to anything that grew; and if there wasn’t anything green immediately at hand, at least she could always carry around her own pouch of seeds. But Jenna’s Cancer magic, potent as it was, preferred moonlight to anchor its power. Since moonlight was often in short supply, Jenna mostly had to make do with lesser anchors of moonstone and silver. Both were expensive enough that she had to hoard them for only the most important spells.

  Not that I’m overflowing with energy to use these days, Jenna thought wryly. She dropped her bag at the door, trying not to think too hard on the ungraded papers still inside it. The fever felt as though it had sunk all the way down to her bones and settled there. Exhaustion weighed on her limbs, and she knew she needed to get to bed, or else risk a full sick day tomorrow.

  Still… she forced herself to stop at her bathroom. The mirror there — the only one in the matchbox-sized apartment — should have been safe from Gabe’s magic, since it was behind her wards. But Jenna studied her own reflection there for a long, suspicious moment. Eventually, she threw a towel over the glass, knowing that she wouldn’t sleep unless she did it.

  Even so, she dreamed of the past.

  Chapter 2

  “Yeah, but why are you sick?” Gabe pressed her. Jenna had retreated to the very edge of the playground, trying to avoid the other kids… but nine-year old Gabe still hadn’t stopped bugging her.

  “I’m a witch,” Jenna told him finally, irritated. “My magic made me sick. I’m not supposed to tell you, but I could make you sick if I really wanted to, so you should probably stop annoying me!”

  “I don’t believe you,” Gabe laughed. “Show me some magic.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Jenna groused. “Yo
u’re a mortal, you can’t see it.”

  “So make me sick,” Gabe challenged her. He poked her in the shoulder. “You said you could do it.”

  “Dad said I shouldn’t,” Jenna muttered darkly.

  “Well then,” Gabe said haughtily. “I still don’t believe you.”

  Jenna woke abruptly in the darkness. She’d kicked off her blankets sometime during the night, but she was still sweating up a storm. She groaned, and staggered out of bed to search out another Tylenol.

  It was still early enough that the sun hadn’t come up, but she knew she was unlikely to manage any more sleep. Eventually, she gave up, threw on her sweatshirt and jeans, and headed out into the pre-dawn darkness.

  The air was just chill enough to soothe her fevered skin, as she jogged her way down to Parkdale. By the time Jenna reached her destination, the sun was just peeking up over the horizon.

  Jenna hadn’t always been consigned to coffee-making to pay for her schooling. Less than a year ago, she’d had a cushy part-time job at another witch’s garden shop. Elaine Halstead had been a sweet, caring mentor — more of a friend than a boss. A Taurus witch, Elaine had left for the faerie realm of Arcadia for an indeterminate period of time. She’d offered to let Jenna run the shop; she’d offered to let her use the loft above the space, rent-free. She’d done everything but beg the younger witch to stay, to look after affairs while she was gone.

  There was just one problem with that, of course. Elaine had gone to Arcadia because she was a warlock now — her soul sworn eternally into the service of a mad, inhuman faerie lord. Jenna knew exactly where it was that path led. Hell, if she was going to be totally honest with herself, it was half the reason she’d spent most of her adult life studying abnormal psychology.

  Warlocks lose their humanity, she thought. Her stomach turned at the idea.

  Kind, beautiful Elaine had been suckered into giving up everything for Lord Blackfrost. The poor woman was such an enabler, it hadn’t been much work for him to lure her in at all. All he had to do was flash a smile at her and show some vulnerability, and bam: the next thing Jenna knew, her boss had sworn her immortal soul to one of the most wicked faerie lords in existence.

  Jenna knew the two of them had some sort of history. Elaine said that Lord Blackfrost had saved her life once. Before he picked up that mantle, Jenna thought sourly. He could have been a whole different person then… but he’s going to change, if he hasn’t already. And now he’s going to drag her down with him.

  She couldn’t watch that happen. Not again. Not even for Lainey.

  So why am I here? Jenna thought uneasily.

  Elaine’s garden shop was so tucked away that it barely had a name; the roses that grew all over the inside of the windows were announcement enough of its purpose. It was probably listed on the Internet as something utilitarian, like Flowers and Garden Supplies. There was only a dim light on in the back of the shop; it had yet to open, but Jenna knew that the spare key on her keychain would still work if she tried it. Elaine had done everything in her power to make sure that if Jenna ever decided to come back, she would find herself welcomed with open arms.

  Jenna stood awkwardly outside the door for a long while. As the sun rose higher, she opened her Witchsight, knowing what she would see. The roses that climbed all over the inside of the shop were mirrored outside by phantom roses, each of which carried more than its fair share of thorns — the basis of Elaine’s wards. Those roses had once been white… but now, they had a frosted blue tinge to them, and a distinctly cold feeling. Blackfrost’s power had already begun to worm its way into Elaine’s magic.

  The sight did little to reassure Jenna.

  “You’re stuck in the past again,” Jenna muttered to herself. “Just stop.”

  She turned away from the garden shop, and headed back toward her apartment. Her body wasn’t cooperating, but she knew she needed to at least attempt a nap before her thesis meeting.

  Jenna woke abruptly, to the sound of her alarm.

  Sunlight streamed through the blinds of her tiny bedroom, spilling across the sheets. The alarm clock said one o’ five.

  “Shit,” she rasped. “Oh, shit.”

  Jenna slammed the reset button on the alarm clock. She snatched up a long-sleeved shirt and shimmied into a pair of jeans from the floor of her room.

  Twenty minutes later, she somehow managed to skid her way into Dr. Cloutier’s office, with five minutes to spare.

  Adrian glanced up from behind his desk, blinking. “Hold on there,” he said, pushing up to his feet. “Don’t slip and crack your head open in my office, please. The janitor will get mad at me.”

  Jenna gasped for breath. “Sorry,” she wheezed. “Overslept.”

  Adrian headed over to guide her into a chair. He shot one glance toward the sunlight that currently streamed into his office, and kicked the door closed with a frown. The other staff all considered Adrian to be an excruciating workaholic — he always arrived at the university before the sun rose, and left when it was safely gone.

  Vampires, Jenna had learned, could tolerate the sun… briefly. But its effects upon them were never pleasant.

  Adrian settled back into his desk chair and slid a bottled water across the desk toward her. Jenna sucked it down in record time, wiping at her forehead. “See?” she managed, after a long few minutes of recovery. “I made it.”

  Adrian gave her a wry smile. “So you did,” he said. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He tapped a printout in front of him. “I’ve finished reading your other thesis. It’s good work. It’s a shame it’s never going to be published.”

  Jenna grinned weakly. “Abnormal Psychology as Applied To Faerie Warlocks isn’t exactly going to earn me academic cred,” she said.

  Adrian shrugged. “There might be some underground avenues available. But this isn’t the kind of research you do just for professional reasons.” He leaned back in his chair. “Someone you know became a warlock, didn’t they?”

  Jenna’s smile faded.

  Adrian shot her a sympathetic look. “I’m not prying just to upset you,” he said. “There’s an awful lot in here about Male Subject One. Are you trying to save him, Jenna?”

  Jenna’s throat closed up. Her heart clenched, and she looked down at her lap. Save him. The words triggered all sorts of conflicting emotions. I can’t save him. I don’t want to save him. What he did… how could I ever forgive him for that?

  Somewhere deep down though, a tired, stubborn hope ached in her chest. But what if I could have him back? Wouldn’t I want him back?

  “No,” she said, in a dull voice. “I’m not trying to save him. I just… I think I need to understand things, is all. Does that make sense?”

  Jenna caught a hint of doubt on Adrian’s face. But eventually, he nodded. “So… Male Subject One. What’s his name, Jenna?”

  She reached up to rub at her face. You wanted Adrian’s help. He’s finally offering it. “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “Gabe… Gabriel. Gabriel Fisher. He was my best friend. Back when I lived in New York City, before I had to move here. He sold his soul to a faerie lord and became a warlock. It changed him completely.”

  Adrian watched her face carefully. “I already read what you wrote,” he said. “But tell me again, without the hedging.”

  Jenna closed her eyes. Damn it. She’d spent a long time writing and rewriting her theories, carefully excising all mention of names or emotion. It had given her a certain comforting distance from things. But Adrian wanted the story, not the academic treatise.

  “Would you prefer if I hypnotized you?” Adrian asked softly.

  Jenna’s eyes burned. She took in a breath. That’s dangerous! her mind screamed at her. You can’t let a vampire into your head!

  But the memories were sharp and agonizing, and she knew she couldn’t get them out any other way.

  Jenna opened her eyes again, and nodded, swallowing hard. “I think you’ll have to,” she said.

  Adrian studied her for
a long moment. Slowly, he rose back to his feet, and headed over to sit in the chair next to her.

  Jenna flinched as he took her hands in his. He glanced up at her. “It doesn’t hurt,” he assured her. “It’s just an altered mental state.”

  She took another few deep breaths. Don’t let him touch you, don’t let him near you. She shoved down the instinct brutally. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

  Adrian’s eyes flickered red. His presence became softer — almost dreamy. Jenna found herself naturally drawn to stare at those eyes, pulled into them by a deep, heavy gravity.

  A silver crescent moon necklace at her throat flared to life, fighting back against that gravity. The moonstone set at the center was crafted to be her panic button, instilled with an aggressive magical madness which she could direct against an enemy. But Jenna had used the silver in the necklace primarily as a passive defensive talisman, protecting her against every sort of mental intrusion. It was the defensive aspects of the talisman that woke now, fighting against Adrian’s power. She cringed, and quickly reached out with her magic to quiet the necklace’s protests.

  Let him in, she thought uneasily. I told him to do this.

  Slowly — reluctantly — the talisman’s magic subsided.

  “It’s all right,” Adrian said. The words slid into her mind, and suddenly became true. The fear and tension she normally felt in his presence melted away like sugar in water. “You’re utterly relaxed. You couldn’t be scared or angry or upset right now if you tried. It’s just… too much effort.”

  Jenna blinked slowly. Her back hit the chair. Adrian caught her before she could slide down it entirely. He kept his hands firmly on her shoulders.

  “Everything is fine,” he whispered. Those red eyes bored into her, looking through her soul. “Now, Jenna… tell me about Gabriel.”