Fate’s Edge (The Edge #3)(46)
Author: Ilona Andrews

Kaldar executed a small bow.

"Cute. What is it you want, blueblood? And make it quick. I have an appointment later this evening, so if I have to kill you, I’ll need to do it fast."

KILL you fast, blah-blah-blah. Audrey pretended to be preoccupied with a plant. Someone had a rather high opinion of herself. Magdalene called Kaldar a blueblood, and he didn’t correct her, either. What was he playing at?

"The Mirror is interested in Morell de Braose," Kaldar said.

"Mhm." Magdalene flipped the card between her fingers, pretending to watch the light play on it. She was assessing Kaldar out of the corner of her eye, and the way she adjusted her pose, one hip out, shoulders back to put her breasts on display, meant she liked what she saw.

Not that anyone would blame her. Kaldar wore black Levi’s and a black T-shirt that showed off his carved arms. His hair was doing this wild unkempt thing that made Audrey picture him just rolling out of bed. He’d grown a day’s worth of stubble, which just made him look hotter. Magdalene was definitely pondering if she should take him for a test drive.

You’re barking up the wrong tree, woman. Then again, if Magdalene promised to deliver what Kaldar wanted, he would sleep with her in a blink. He was a man, after all, and he’d do anything to get what he wanted. And that thought shouldn’t have bothered her. Not at all.

"And what did Morell do to warrant the Mirror’s attention?" Magdalene asked.

"Rumor has it, he bought the wrong item."

"Are there other interested parties?"

"The Hand, the Claws, the usual." Kaldar smiled, a quick, sly curving of lips. He was keeping eye contact, his shoulders squared, his body facing Magdalene. He was working her hard. Magdalene probably knew it, but she still enjoyed the attention.

The two of them might as well have forgotten that Audrey was even there. She felt a tiny pinch of jealousy. It shouldn’t have mattered. She and Kaldar had nothing, would have nothing, even if he’d promised her the moon and delivered it on a silver platter. Men like Kaldar were fun to kiss but impossible to keep. Why in the world Audrey was annoyed because he was paying attention to this cobra in a white skirt she had no idea.

Magdalene smiled. "So Morell finally stumbled. Good to know. What do you want from me?"

Kaldar slipped a hint of confidentiality into his voice. "People say that Morell isn’t universally loved."

"People say a lot of things."

"If someone who disliked Morell, a direct competitor of his, let’s say, were to help us with information or assist us in gaining access to his person, well, such a person would benefit when Morell was brought down."

"Heh." Magdalene leaned forward. "Suppose I help you do this. Then what if you’re captured and you give up my name? That might put me in an awkward position." She gave Kaldar another once-over. "As much as I might enjoy that under different circumstances . . ."

Audrey almost slapped her. For Heaven’s sake, woman, have some dignity.

". . . I don’t cherish having Morell’s goons showing up at my doorstep."

"Is that a no?" Kaldar tilted his head. The light sparked off the silver earring in his ear. Mmm, that was exactly what he would look like after a wild night, raising his head from the sheets.

And now both of them were staring at him googly-eyed. Audrey returned her gaze to the plant. She’d have picked at it to keep herself occupied, except it was an Edge Mercy flower, and it would peel the skin off her fingertips.

"That’s a maybe." Magdalene snapped out of her Kaldar-stupor and looked at the card again. "I’d like you to do a job for me. In return, I will give you an invitation to his auction. It’s a foolproof way to get into Morell’s castle. In fact, his guards will let you in through the front gate."

"I’m listening," Kaldar said.

"I have particular talents," Magdalene said. "In the Edge, they call people like me soothsayers."

Figured. Now the snake stare made sense.

"Everyone has problems," Magdalene said, her voice light. "Your boss is driving you mad, your job puts you under pressure, your hair is falling out, you’re carrying an extra fifty pounds, and you suspect your wife is banging a used-car salesman. You’re worn-out, so you come to me. Two nice employees walk you through that hallway, and you find yourself here."

Well, of course. A couple of Edgers could get almost anybody into the Edge through the boundary. They’d just feed their own magic into the person to get them through.

"You tell me about your problems, and after we chat for twenty minutes, you start feeling better. The longer we talk, the easier your life becomes. People think happiness is about money. It’s not. It’s all about perception. A doughnut-shop clerk who makes twenty grand a year is often more content than a boardroom desk jockey making two hundred thousand because the clerk appreciates every break he gets. Those who come to me focus only on the negatives, so I simply realign them to see their lives through rose-colored glasses."

"And they tell you all of their secrets in return." Audrey clamped her mouth shut. Oops.

Magdalene spared her a single look, as if seeing her for the first time. "Yes, they do."

You went to soothsayers at your own peril. They made you feel so good. But the next thing you knew, you had told them all about your affair with Bob down the street, and that time you lost your temper with your kids, and the twenty thousand dollars Aunt Hilda left you. Soothsayers traded in information. Most Edgers knew this.

"I’ve done well for myself over the years. But now I have a problem."

Magdalene took a remote off the nearest table and clicked it. A section of the wall slid aside, revealing a flat screen. Magdalene opened her laptop, typed something in a quick staccato, and the flat screen ignited, showing a smiling man in a suit. Early thirties, healthy tan, bright white teeth, salon-bleached hair. Handsome, but not overly. He had the kind of face that would make him a good vacuum salesman or a successful serial killer: open, honest, confident, and pleasant. Old ladies would judge him to be a "nice boy" and open their doors to him, no problem.

"Edward Yonker." Magdalene crossed her arms on her chest. "Also known as Ed Junior. He runs the Church of the Blessed. He’s a prosperity preacher."

Kaldar nodded. "I see."

"Ed’s like me, except his specialty is crowds. If he were a carnie, he’d be a sky grifter."

Audrey looked at the plant some more. She’d met a few tent-revival preachers, and none of them were any good. They’d preach hell, whip up the crowd into hysteria, pull off a couple of cheap tricks, then pass the collection plate around. Sky grifters – nothing but show.