Gunmetal Magic: A Novel in the World of Kate Daniels

been.
    “Still the same outfit, I see. Do you ever change it up?”
    “In private,” he said. “Must maintain the whole ‘knitted from darkness and shadow’ image.”
    “Aren’t darkness and shadow the same thing?” I asked.
    He wagged his eyebrows at me. “Aaah, you’d think so, but no. Shadow implies the presence of light. I am not all bad, you see. Parts of me are good. In fact, parts of me are excellent.”
    Ascanio rolled his eyes behind him.
    “So,” Roman said. “What brings you here?”
    “We’re trying to get access to the Library of Alexandria.”
    “I can help you. I’ve got this, Rachel.” Roman waved at us. “Follow me.”
    We followed him up a tall gray and brown staircase. “Do you come here often?” I asked.
    He rolled his dark eyes. “I live in this bloody place. Dad’s making me track down some obscure legend. The Witch Oracle foresaw some things a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been digging in ever since.”
    “Could you just tell him no?” Ascanio asked from behind.
    Roman glanced at him and heaved a dramatic sigh. “My father is the Black Volhv. My mother is one of the Witch Oracles. In my place, you have to ask yourself, is saying no worth the problems, the nagging, the accusations of not being a good son, the lectures from both of my parents, and the story of how my mother was in labor for forty hours, which I can recite from memory. It’s easier to just do what they want. Besides, if the prophecy is the sign of something dreadful happening, we might as well be prepared.”
    “What sort of prophecy was it?” Ascanio asked.
    “That’s classified.” Roman winked at him. “I could tell you, of course. But then I would have to kill you and chain your soul, so you would be my shadow servant for all eternity. Come on, it’s right this way.”
    Roman turned left, between the bookcases, going deeper into the library’s second floor.
    Ascanio’s eyes widened. He turned to me. “Can he do that?”
    I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea. Why don’t you try bugging him, so we’ll find out?”
    “No thanks.”
    Roman led us through the narrow tunnel betweenbookshelves all the way to the back of the library, where five terminals glowed weakly. He pulled a card out of his pocket and swiped it through the card reader of the two closest terminals. The Library of Alexandria logo—a book encased in flame—came on the screens.
    “Here you go.”
    “Thank you. Much obliged.” It was really nice of him.
    “Say, can I ask you a question? In private?”
    “Sure.” I pointed at the left terminal. “Ascanio, search for our boy. Remember, anything that has to do with his art collection.”
    We walked along the wall outside of Ascanio’s hearing distance, which took us almost all the way to the end of the section.
    Roman’s dark eyes turned serious. “You have ties with the Pack, yes?”
    “Some.”
    He frowned, looming next to me, all tall and dark. “Did you hear anything…alarming? Anything about them taking over the city, for example?”
    “No. It wouldn’t happen anyway. Curran is a separatist,” I told him. “He believes in maintaining a distance between the shapeshifters and everyone else. The Pack worships his footsteps. They wouldn’t do anything without his say-so. Even if they did, how would they hold the place? Everyone else would unite and crush them and that’s leaving aside any action the government would take.”
    Roman stroked his chin. “True, true…”
    “Why do you ask?”
    “The prophecy. Some prophecies are distinct. This one wasn’t. The witches saw a shadow falling on the city and then there was howling. Deafening, scary howling. They aren’t sure if it’s a dog or a wolf or something else. Also they saw a spiral of clay.”
    “So what does it mean?”
    Roman shook his head. “No way to tell. It must’ve felt terrifying, because my mother was rattled after it.”
    I had met Evdokia. Anything that managed to rattle her had to be treated as a serious threat.
    “Are you free tomorrow night?” Roman asked. “I’d love your perspective on things.”
    “Are you asking me on a date?” Flirting or not flirting?
    Roman leaned one arm against the bookcase. “Who, me? I don’t date. I only steal virgins to sacrifice.”
    Flirting. Shamelessly flirting. “Hmm, then I’m not of any interest to you. I’m not a virgin.”
    He grinned. “This would be a professional meeting.”
    “Aha.”
    “Kompletely profeshonal,” Roman