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“She’s not going to tell anyone,” Kierse told him. She looked to Dr. Mafi. “Right?”
Dr. Mafi glanced between them in surprise. As if Kierse and Graves were windows and she was peering through to whatever feelings were growing beneath. But all she said was, “Right.”
“Keep it that way,” Graves said. “I’ll call in a few days, and I expect an update.”
She nodded, her hands shaking slightly. “I’ll work on it. Thanks for coming in.”
Graves tipped his head at her, tucking the papers under his arm, and gestured for Kierse to precede him out.
“I can’t believe this,” Kierse said, her voice trembling. “What does this mean for me?”
“Nothing changes,” he said at once. He put a steadying hand on her back, and she leaned into it. “You’re not a warlock, but you have magic. Magic has laws and rules. You would still be ruled by them, and we’ll train you like you are.”
“Does this mean I’m something new?” she asked softly.
He was silent a moment before saying, “Or something very old.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Graves stayed on the phone while Kierse stepped in the house ahead of him. Her head spun. She was something new or old or different, but she wasn’t a human and she wasn’t a warlock. Her heart sank a little. She didn’t realize she had been putting so much stock in that idea until she found out the truth. Being a warlock meant that Graves could train her magic, which would help her escape this job alive.
He’d been shaken when she was hurt at Imani’s. Would he still send her in without magic training? She didn’t know how she was going to make it out otherwise.
She needed to get herself under control. Whatever she was hadn’t mattered before, and it hadn’t mattered all those years on the streets. She’d survive this like she had everything else. And if she didn’t, at least Gen and Ethan would be set up for life.
She pushed her shoulders back and tipped her chin up. They still had a spear to steal. Her plans didn’t stop rolling forward just because they had taken two steps backward.
“Let’s go into the library,” Graves said, sneaking up behind her.
She jumped. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked. His eyes twinkled and were full of humor. One day, she would figure him out.
She slunk into the Holly Library, settling into her favorite seat.
“Drink?”
“No thanks.”
Graves poured himself a glass of bourbon and then came to sit across from her. “Ask me your questions.”
She skipped the ones that would make her sound weak. She needed facts, not reassurances. “What is absorption exactly? I mean, I know what it means to absorb something, but I don’t understand how it works.”
“Well, what we have been assuming thus far is that when you were bypassing my wards, you were immune to their touch. So the magic couldn’t touch you or was even repelled by you. A passive ability that you couldn’t control,” he explained. “With absorption, instead of repelling the magic, you would take it into your body. Every time you stepped over my ward threshold, the magic to keep you out would be brought in through the skin. It’s unclear at this point if you store the magic and can use it later. You’ve never mentioned any other abilities that would suggest that.”
“I don’t have any other abilities.” She pursed her lips and then sat up straighter. “Wait . . .”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“I never thought of this as an ability. I just thought that this was who I was, but I’m fast. Not as fast as you, of course, but when I would spar with Ethan, he always said that I had an advantage because I could go so fast. It wasn’t actual speed, though. I could kind of . . . slow things down. That way I could see him coming at me and react. I called it my slow motion.”
“Interesting,” Graves said. “How long can you do this for?”
She shook her head. “Not long. I usually burn through it so fast. And once it’s gone, I become sluggish and feel sick.”
“You were using your abilities this entire time, and you didn’t even know it.”
“It didn’t feel like magic. It felt natural.”
He nodded, understanding lighting his features. “I understand. Mine does as well.” He poured the rest of his drink down his throat. “We will figure out the rest of your abilities, Wren.”
She shivered at that word. “How can we if I’m not a warlock?”
“I know you’re concerned, but I am not. I’ve lived a long time. We can figure this out.”
She wanted to have his faith, but she hadn’t lived a long time, and magic looked daunting.
Graves took the seat beside her. She could feel his bright fire against her leg—searing and delicious. A part of her froze at his nearness—old habits—before she relaxed again.
