Chapter 8: Connections

SERAPHINA

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, hugging myself as I navigated the labyrinth of shelves. I was hoping that if I kept moving, I’d eventually stumble upon a main path. Cursing seemed to be the only thing that could alleviate my frustration, especially considering my impulsive decision had landed me in this predicament.

A sudden gust of wind was my only warning that I wasn’t alone.

“Are you following me?” his voice startled me, sending a jolt down my spine. I barely had time to spin halfway around before Aleksandr was right there, his face just inches from mine.

“If you’re trying to seduce me after your husband’s death, Seraphina, there are better ways to go about it,” he whispered.

His words were barely above a whisper, his body advancing as I retreated, effectively trapping me between him and the wall. My back pressed against the cold marble plaques of the long-deceased as I looked up into his icy blue eyes. I felt like a mouse cornered by a cat, ready to toy with its prey.

It seemed Aleksandr took great pleasure in intimidating and tormenting me. He wasn’t touching me, but I could ~feel~ everything.

“It’s Miss Blair, and I thought you were meeting someone,” I retorted, not bothering to hide my intentions of following him.

I was no longer a pawn in Jack’s rivalry, his death effectively putting me in the line of fire. Something I reprimanded as soon as I could when I had a look into Jack’s world.

Aleksandr was now at a significant loss, unable to move his merchandise due to my interference in Jack’s operations, something that was masked by the involvement of the newly named Witch Queen. If anyone had found out I was the one that had contacted Delilah though—it wouldn’t bode well for me.

Aleksandr and the rest of the magical community now had limited access to certain ingredients. My moral compass being less about Aleksandr and more how I couldn’t see something with a consciousness as being an object or ingredient when I had made the call.

Aleksandr smirked, leaning in closer without touching me, as if trying to catch my scent. His gaze burned into mine, causing my heart to race. His closeness, feeling as lethal as it did wrong.

“Just my sister, ~Miss Blair~. But she’s been dead for a while,” he said, glancing at a plaque near my head. He removed his bonbonnière and placed it on a small holder next to her plaque.

The name Vasiliev was boldly engraved beneath the name Alyona Ivana. I barely registered the date as my eyes snapped back to his. I clenched my jaw.

“You killed Jack.”

Aleksandr looked surprised, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at me. “That’s quite an accusation, Seraphina.”

I opened my mouth to respond, anger flashing in my eyes as he used my name without my permission. The tension between us was palpable, a heat that was hard to ignore as I breathed in the air around him.

I hated that I wanted to kiss him.

“Miss Blair.” The words shattered the intense heat that had built up between Aleksandr and me. It was like a bucket of ice running down my back as I seemed to recognize the voice with ease. Garrick, one of Jack’s rivals, had found me again.

His sudden appearance caused Aleksandr to quickly reposition himself, no longer trapping me against the wall. He moved to the side as if we had been having a casual conversation, giving my body space.

Garrick didn’t miss the shift in Aleksandr’s stance. His body language became defensive as he approached, his face seeming guarded.

“Is everything okay here?” he asked, his gaze darting between Aleksandr and me.

“Absolutely,” Aleksandr replied with a smug smile, clearly noticing Garrick’s disapproval. “No need to get territorial. I was just paying my respects to my sister and was about to leave. We can discuss our business later. Isn’t that right, Miss Blair?”

Aleksandr’s eyes met mine, his smirk hiding a grin as he waited for my response. I gritted my teeth, my eyes narrowing as I forced myself to remain calm. I knew our conversation was far from over.

My silence, body language, and glare were all the communication he needed. He winked at me and pushed off the wall. As he walked past Garrick, I saw them both make eye contact. Whatever it was between them, Garrick’s hand twitched near his gun before relaxing as Aleksandr continued onto his next destination.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a hushed tone, coming forward with caution.

I tried not to glare at him. My arms were crossed defensively as my eyes darted around, processing my surroundings and what I was supposed to be doing. I could tell by the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he saw me as nothing more than a victim. He thought I was a frail woman who couldn’t handle Aleksandr, and it bothered me.

I felt like I was already handling so much. Weak, helpless, or frail were not words I wanted associated with the look in someone’s eyes right now. The same look Garrick seemed to be giving me.

“As much as I appreciate your attempt at playing the hero, I was handling the situation just fine,” I retorted.

“Fine? Aleksandr Vasiliev had you cornered,” he countered.

I shook my head, avoiding his piercing, gentle gaze. “He didn’t touch me. And if I wanted to, I could have killed him just as easily as you and your gun.” My voice was rising, full of emotion, and becoming slightly erratic. I knew I was borderline irrational, and I was also anxious to get back before I was noticed as missing.

“We were having a conversation, which you rudely interrupted. So, if you’ll excuse me—”

His grip on my arm was firm but brief, enough to stop me momentarily. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wanted to ask you out for coffee, or dinner after the funeral. We could talk about finances, and maybe you could vent about Jack? If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d like to.”

His words caught me off guard. His tone was warm and inviting, as if he was asking me on a date. I was taken aback that he thought it was even remotely appropriate.

“Jack and I were fine. I’m not about to share my personal life with another stranger.”

“So, is that why you borrowed a chunk of your speech from Sara Teasdale’s ~If Death is Kind~? I recognized some of the lines, even though they were a bit butchered. Marcus said you discovered things about our world that you wish you hadn’t? Your doctor was a bit loose-lipped last week when he volunteered at the youth center. He mentioned that you’ve been cutting your visits short with him and working more with Damien. You’ve been talking less. You’ve been angrier.”

I was glaring at him now, my face stony. I didn’t let him know how right he was. How much blood was on my hands already.

“I know what it’s like to suddenly have that kind of information thrust upon you and to feel responsible for it, or the shortcomings that come with being responsible at the helm,” he said. “I thought you might appreciate someone to talk to. Nothing more.”

His amber eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. Their sincerity was hard to resist after weeks of what felt like a never-ending race.

Then there was this odd…sensation. I felt a sudden sense of grounding, a feeling of connection that was hard to put into words.

I felt comfort and security. A promise that I’d be taken care of. As well as something…more.

It was as if I’d been blessed by some divine force, even as the feeling began to fade in my fingertips without an ounce of dizziness or nausea.

~Magic.~

Could it be a sign?

Even as the sensation seemed to ebb away from my fingertips and toes, I knew it was real. Everything suddenly felt a little more right, even when the world was so broken. A small glimpse of peace.

I glanced back toward the presumed exit where Aleksandr had left, aware that my guests were probably noticing my absence. I hesitated before turning back to Garrick.

I knew this could just be another dirty trick to gain an advantage in the underworld, where money was king. A woman to coax onto their arm and take advantage of.

How many crime lords hadn’t tried that—and how many had died at the hands of a merciless woman? Was that destined to be me?

Or was I someone living next to the sea in a cottage that churned her own butter for kicks to get away from a life of darkness?

~“I’m sorry, but I have to decline. Whatever my husband was involved in, those are my sins to bear. I’m his widow. I won’t feed what’s left of his legacy to the first dog that comes sniffing up my skirt.”~

My words should have been icy, my message clear. Yet, for some reason, I found myself softening toward him.

The words that fell from my lips were different, as if Jack’s voice was whispering in my ear. His finger traced a ghostly path down my neck, as if urging me to pursue whatever trace of magic might still exist.

~Keep your friends close—~

“I’d love to,” I heard myself say, my words sounding breathless. I tried to keep up with my train of thought. “Let me wrap things up here and…”

My words trailed off. My eyes wandered. I let him play the hero, my train of thought having finally derailed. A little flattery never hurt a man’s ego, after all.

It worked like a charm. Garrick’s face lit up as he nodded, offering his arm to lead me back to the mourning party upstairs.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give Damien the address, and you can leave once things settle down.”

“Would you like me to walk you back the rest of the way, or—?”

“I think it would be odd for Jack’s widow to return with one of his business associates, given the circumstances of his death. It’ll already be discussion enough for meeting with you afterward. Don’t you think, Mr. Eyak?”

“You can call me Garrick. You’re not wrong. I’ll be sure not to draw any more unwanted attention if that’s what you desire, Miss Blair,” he said.

He winked at me, then turned and began to walk away.

I watched him go, trying to make sense of our conversation, let alone the sensations I had felt.

I found myself wondering if leaving this world wouldn’t be easier than staying.