The Apothecary (The Lost Keepers Book 3) Read online

  “Even I’ll admit that our history is pretty interesting. There are scandals that would blow your mind!” Gayla grinned.

  “And there’s an Atlantean professor who specializes in ancient languages.”

  I paused, my hand subconsciously finding its way to my bag, where the tablet rested under my arm. “Do you think…”

  I didn’t have to finish my sentence. Dom knew exactly what I was thinking. She suppressed a grin and shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her denim shorts. “Maybe you should enroll and find out.” She winked and walked on ahead, following Gayla out onto the busy street ahead.

  “You know what? I think I’m gonna head back to my aunt’s house. You guys go ahead and get that coffee without me. I’ve got some things to think about.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Though some might call me stubborn, I liked to think I was sensible. In fact, I prided myself on a strong sense of individualism. I was never one to succumb to peer pressure, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  Even if Columbia did offer a warm feeling and a sense of home. Even if I was intrigued by the programs it offered— the ancient languages and opportunities of an environment steeped in history. The professors and Keeper classmates could be a real benefit if I eventually found some powers of my own. Or they could be a real detriment if it turned out I was just a mortal. Or worse—fractured.

  But no, I wouldn't think about that now. I couldn't allow myself to think that I might be fractured or it would mean the textbook sitting at home was my gateway drug to dark magic. And I wouldn't go to the dark side, just like I wouldn't allow myself to be pressured into attending a university I never had any previous interest in.

  I didn’t have to go to Columbia to work with the professor on languages. Perhaps I could meet with him after hours to learn more about the symbols on my tablet. I would attend NYU. I'd find my mom, ensure her safety, and carry on with life as normal. It sounded like a fine plan to me.

  Except, life could never be normal again.

  As if the fates were really trying to drive that point home, I stopped to watch my snowy white owl friend flutter down to a street sign up ahead on the corner. I paused, looking to see if anyone else noticed the out of place creature, but my fellow New Yorkers were all too busy to care.

  I tilted my head at the bird, it's sentient yellow eyes watching my every move. "I didn’t tell them about you. They would have thought I was nuts."

  It blinked, seemingly understanding my words.

  "Are the legends true? Are you just an old mailman?"

  The creature blinked again and I chuckled, enjoying what seemed like an inside joke we shared. "They don't know what they're talking about, do they?"

  A woman walking down the sidewalk gripped her purse tighter and cast a wary glance in my direction as she picked up her pace and scurried away from me. “You know you’re making me look like a weirdo talking to myself on a street corner.” I swear the owl winked at me before turning its head down the street to my left and returning its wide eyes to mine. Then it flapped its wings, lifting two or three feet into the air and bobbing expectantly, never once moving its eyes away from mine.

  I looked around again. Surely I was imagining this, right? Why wasn't anyone else staring in wonder at this beautiful, intelligent creature? In the back of my mind, somehow, I knew. It was here for me. The owl flapped ahead, flying twenty feet forward to another perch on a corner window in front of me.

  With one more glance over my shoulder, I trotted after it. As I approached the creature, it lifted off again, hovering once more to ensure I was paying attention, then it flew another ten or fifteen yards ahead. We played this game of cat and mouse—or mortal and owl—for a bit, until the bird bobbed its head and turned to look down a shady alleyway.

  We were several blocks from campus now, in an area I wasn’t familiar with. But I’d seen enough TV shows to know I shouldn’t go traipsing down alleyways. I’d either find singing cartoon cats banging on metal trash cans like drums, or more likely, find a man in a black ski mask ready to mug me.

  The owl blinked expectantly. “Okay,” I said. “If you’re sure it’s safe.”

  I took three hesitant steps, carefully dodging empty, wet fast food sacks and rat droppings. Ew. This place was gross. My owl friend flapped ahead to a filthy green dumpster. With a sigh, I continued after it, knowing with every step that I should probably be more cautious. Sean would be livid if he found out about this.

  Just a few feet away from the dumpster, I heard voices, too muffled to make out. I looked at the owl, who blinked and turned to face the other side of the alley. Is this what he was trying to show me? I inched closer, trying my best to stay quiet, which was no easy feat—especially when a cockroach the size of my hand nearly ran over the top of my foot.

  A makeshift shelter made from soggy cardboard boxes leaned against the side of the building the dumpster sat against. I tiptoed around it, peeked around the corner, and just barely made out two separate voices. A man and a woman joyfully giggled in hushed tones. There was something almost familiar about them, but not enough for me to sort it out on sound alone.

  Just a few more steps to the next corner of the smelly bin, and I’d be able to see them. Of course, they’d be able to see me, too. But I was already in this far. Why not go for the gold?

  They stopped talking as I poked the top of my head around the corner. Luckily for me, they were too busy sucking face to notice anyone at all. Who makes out by a dumpster? Another quick glance at the owl told me I had to stick around and find out. Well, add peeping Tom to my list of accomplishments…

  The man leaned his back against the wall, rubbing his hands up and down the woman’s slender frame as she lifted on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her hair was dark and stringy, hanging limply past her shoulders. Eventually, she dropped back down, revealing the man’s face.

  “We’re gonna be so rich,” Mr. Smiley grinned.

  It was David, the customer from Millie’s shop. The one who bought the poison for supposedly non-poison-making purposes. So was this his girlfriend with the nerve pain? She stepped back and I dashed around to the opposite side of the dumpster, diving into the cardboard lean-to.

  I could just barely make them out as they rounded the edge of the bin, and a gasp escaped my lips when I saw the face of the woman. It was Nikki, Abby’s housekeeper. The one who had given her father the investment information that Mr. Smiley had in his bag. I knew it!

  But my excitement was premature… and overenthusiastic.

  “Did you hear something?” The housekeeper paused, looking nervously around the alley.

  “Probably just a rat.” Mr. Smiley said.

  I wished the housekeeper would have accepted that as an answer, but I was never so lucky. She continued searching, stepping closer and closer to the cardboard shack where I’d holed up. My legs burned with energy and adrenaline, my fight or flight kicking in hardcore. Through a hole in the tattered roof I could just barely see the outline of my owl friend hopping across the top of the dumpster. Then, he disappeared, dropping down inside.

  The sound of scuffling claws immediately bounced through the walls of the alleyway.

  “See?” Mr. Smiley said. He put on a tough face, but there was a flash of fear in his eyes. “Rats. And big ones from the sound of it.”

  But there were no rats. Just my owl, and whatever was chasing him through the trash. A moment later, a feral flash of gray fur jumped out of the dumpster with a hiss, and dashed across the alleyway, leaping up onto a fire escape on the opposite side and disappearing over the edge of a window sill.

  “Ahh! I hate cats!” The housekeeper jumped backward with a sour expression. She took one final look at the dumpster, her eyes barely grazing over the box where I sat hidden, and then took Mr. Smiley by the hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I waited a solid five minutes after I was sure they were gone. It took that long for my pulse to return to normal. Slowly standing, I gave my legs a kick
to get the blood rushing back through them properly, then peered over the edge of the dumpster. The odor was so strong it brought tears to my eyes and stung at the back of my nose. No sign of the owl, anywhere.

  It was just as well. He’d shown me what I needed to see. I wasted no time getting back to the coffee shop in Morningside Heights, only stopping once to pull up a Google map on my phone to find the way.

  I couldn’t confirm anything of course, but my suspicions were already running high when it came to Mr. Smiley and his purchase of Monkshood. Pair that with a shady new housekeeper and some sleazy looking investment paperwork, and the situation was ripe for conspiracy.

  Maybe there was a chance I could save Mr. Mason after all.

  CHAPTER 10

  Golden bells tinkled overhead as I pulled open the door of The Honey Pot. Coeds sat huddled at tables and in worn armchairs throughout the small coffee shop. I scanned the room, trying to ignore the aromatic scent of espresso calling to me like a delightfully-caffeinated temptress.

  There. Two platinum blonds leaned in close over steaming mugs at a table in the back corner. I rushed breathlessly across the shop. “Dom! Gayla!”

  The girls looked up, faces twisted in confusion. Or perhaps those were sneers of disgust at the sweaty mortal who stood before them. I probably reeked of trash from the alley. With their ashy blond, almost silver hair and deep dark eyes, they had to be Olympian. They just weren’t my Olympians.

  In fact, after another good look around, it appeared that everyone in the shop was a Keeper of some kind. A gorgeous leggy brunette with sparkling amber eyes, leaned over the counter, grinning at me. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Maybe.” I wiped my sweaty palms across my thighs and approached her. I’d never interacted with a female Agarthian before. Was she going to try to make me fall in love with her, too? Surely not. They weren’t all sirens, were they?

  I swallowed down my nerves and steadied my voice. “I’m looking for a couple of… uh… blond girls. About yea high.” I held my hand six inches above my head.

  The girl unsuccessfully tried to hide a smirk. “I think you’ve got the wrong shop.”

  Uh huh. Because I’m a mortal. This was exactly why I’d never fit in at Columbia. “I’m sure they said they were coming here. One of them probably ordered your special with the Ambrosia drizzle. Real pretty girl, I’m sure you would remember her.”

  The barista wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. Our special today is the iced white chocolate mocha. You’ve definitely got the wrong shop.”

  I looked around again. There was no way I’d made a mistake. This place was crawling with Keepers. She was just trying to get me out of there—trying to keep their identities a secret.

  “Look,” I leaned in conspiratorially, dropping my voice to let her know I wasn’t going to blow her cover. “I know what you think, but I’m not a mortal.”

  “You’re not, huh?” A rough voice snagged my attention. I looked over in time to see Osborne slide onto a barstool to my right.

  Crap. Crapcrapcrap. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” I looked back to the barista for a little help, but she’d already moved on to help a new customer.

  Osborne did not look amused. His mouth pressed into a hard line, he dropped his chin toward the stool on the opposite side of his table.

  “Oh, I can’t.” I backed up a step. “I’ve really got to get ba—”

  “Sit.” His golden eyes flickered, and I couldn’t resist. I had to sit. Somewhere in the depths of my consciousness I knew he was glamouring me, but I was helpless to fight back.

  “Okay,” I murmured, sliding onto the stool across from him. The barista snickered, flicking a quick glance in our direction before sliding an iced mocha to-go across the counter to another unwitting mortal.

  “First, I don’t like liars. You’re definitely a mortal—for now. Don’t try to convince anyone otherwise.”

  I didn’t dare object. My heart was thundering so loud I imagined the entire coffee shop could sense my fear. The two Atlantean guys at the table next to us could, anyway, judging by the wide eyes they had plastered to me. They probably had heightened senses, like Sean’s friend Devon. I gave them an audible gulp for some comedic relief. They turned back to their own conversation and any humor was immediately sucked dry from the situation again as I looked at Osborne’s golden eyes.

  While Tate’s were rich like honey, full of mystery and intrigue, Osborne’s were harsh, cold and calculating. It was much more enjoyable to be glamoured by Tate. Osborne wasn’t making this fun for me at all.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m looking for my friends.” The words spilled from my lips before I could help myself.

  “Where’s your guardian?”

  “Sean? I don’t know.” The AC blasted down on my clammy skin, sending chill bumps up my arms. Osborne glanced down, a wicked smirk playing at his lips.

  “Are you afraid?”

  “Yes.” Stupid, traitorous mouth!

  “You should be. It’s dangerous to run around without your guardian. Why would you leave him behind? Attempting to poison his mortal girlfriend, perhaps?”

  “No!” I shook my head emphatically. “I promise. It’s not me.”

  He pursed his lips, staring at me long and hard before scooting off of his barstool. “I’m watching you. Everywhere. One slip up and you’re mine.”

  “What about Tate?” It was strange how I felt defensive of the guy who admittedly wanted to kill me and take my soul. But Osborne wasn’t playing by the rules. He wasn’t supposed to come near another hunter’s assignment without him. And I wanted him to know that I was aware of his mistake.

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t care about Thaddeus. I care about getting the job done.” He turned on his heels and disappeared through the door before I could get another word in.

  At least he knew I wasn’t responsible for Mr. Mason’s illness now. There’s no way I could have lied to him through the glamour. But I also didn’t get a chance to tell him what I suspected about Mr. Smiley and the housekeeper. Not that he would have listened to me, anyway.

  The Atlantean boys stared at me with raised brows. “Nothing to see here,” I muttered as I stormed past them.

  It took me just a moment to regain my bearings back on the sidewalk outside of the coffee shop. There was no sign of Osborne, but I knew he was near. I could practically feel his eyes burning into me. I grinned like a fool, trying to prove I wasn’t afraid of him. Take that, you pushy hunter.

  Gayla and Dom’s apartment wasn’t far from here. Ten minutes later I banged on their door, relief flooding through me when I saw Gayla’s pretty face peek through the crack. “Everly! Come in.” She stepped back, slurping a creamy iced coffee drink through her straw.

  Dom glanced up from her spot at the kitchen island, immediately aware of the stress I was trying to keep under control. She stood and met us in the living room. “What’s wrong, Ev?”

  “I need to find Tate.”

  Gayla wiggled her brows at me. “I bet you do…”

  “No, this is important.”

  Dom’s eyes moved quickly back and forth over mine, trying to make out what was flashing through my mind. Bless her. It was probably a mess in there.

  “You ran into Osborne? Alone?” Her mouth dropped open.

  “Yes. And I think I have the information he needs to help Abby’s dad. I know who is responsible for it, but he won’t listen to me. I need to tell Tate.”

  Gayla tensed at my mention of Abby, but she nodded, agreeing that something needed to be done. “Osborne is kind of a creep. I understand why you’d rather talk to Tate, but I don’t know if I’d recommend you running to him. Isn’t that a bit like a rabbit seeking refuge in the fox’s den?”

  “I’d rather talk to the fox than the wolf.”

  She nodded grimly at that.

  “Tell us what you know,” Dom suggested. “Maybe we can talk to Tate and Osborne for you.”

  I shook
my head. “No. He needs to hear it from me. I’m still working to prove my innocence here. But I also have first hand knowledge. If they glamour the truth out of me—or whatever it is they do—they’ll have to believe me.”

  The girls exchanged a weary look. Gayla caved first. “Okay. I know where the Agarthians hang out in the evenings. I’m sure Tate will be there. Osborne might be there too, though.”

  I was sure he probably would be. But that was a risk I’d just have to take.

  CHAPTER 11

  The city buzzed with a new kind of energy after sundown. I stepped out of the cab behind Gayla, who stood tall on the sidewalk in the lower East Side, skin shimmery and perfectly bronzed as the streetlights reflected off of her exposed shoulders. She turned to Dom and me with a grin. “I love this place!”

  “Have you been before?” Dom asked.

  Gayla nodded. “Yep. Gabriella let me sneak down here with her and her friends one night a couple of years ago. It’s where I got my first sip of absinthe. Daddy would’ve killed me if he knew. But it was worth it.”

  She was way more excited than I was. I struggled to keep up with their long confident strides through the streets, and tripped over my feet more than once for lack of paying attention. I was too busy scouting out my surroundings. If this was a popular Agarthian hangout, there was no telling how many hunters might be in the area.

  Dom slowed and patted me on the shoulder as I caught up. “It’s alright,” she said. “We’ve got your back.”

  It was good to have them on my side, but I was beginning to regret not inviting Sean along. A weak seer and a telepath could only do so much. Sean’s strength and speed would have been far more useful. But Sean wouldn’t have been on board with me finding Tate. As a guardian, his job was to keep me away from the Agarthians, not lead me into one of their favorite hangouts.