My expression falls. “If you must.” I sigh and grab her arm. “Let’s get going.”
Felicity stumbles over her own feet as I open up the portal in front of us and pull her forward.
“Not this again, they make me dizzy!” she complains.
I roll my eyes, but then think for a moment. How long would it take to get to Madam Daeval’s if we didn’t use the portal? Far too long.
“You’ll get used to it,” I insist. “But I’ll let you step in instead of pulling you. It’ll feel more natural.”
“If you say so,” she says and then steps forward into the portal. I watch her move. The way dress billows out around her hips and ruffles in the magic of my portal. I can practically taste her as she walks in, and then, disappears. I follow behind her and the next second we’re standing in front of a storefront back on her plane of living.
“Nope, I don’t think that made me any less dizzy,” Felicity says as she puts a hand on her head. She looks wobbly on her feet.
I find myself stepping over and putting my hand on the small of her back.
“Are you steady?” I ask her.
She places a hand on my other arm and nods. “I’m okay now. This is it?”
As if we aren’t standing in front of a darkened storefront in a seedy alleyway with the words Madam Daeval in golden letters that are usually illuminated on a banner.
“Yes. She’s not going to like my being here…she prefers to stay neutral to the crime syndicates, but she’s the only one who might be able to tell you what you are,” I explain.
“Might be? I thought you said she would be able to, for sure?” Felicity asks with furrowed brow.
“I’m hoping so, but it could be more difficult than that,” I tell her. “After all, I can’t discern what you are…just that your blood is like…mmm golden honey is to a bee.”
I see her skin grow darker in the dimness. “Okay, but you don’t get to taste it until I know what I am.”
I glare at her. “I know, I know.”
I turn around and lead Felicity down the alleyway to the side door of the business.
“Is she even open?” Felicity asks.
I smirk. “She will be.”
With several raps on the door, I see a light flick on casting underneath said door. A slight grumbling can be head on the other side before the locks click and the door pulls open just a fraction of an inch.
“Who is it? I’m closed for the evening,” Madam Daeval insists.
“It’s Mercurius. I need a favor,” I tell her.
“Mercurius…I thought you didn’t need help from mere witches,” she sneers at me, but there’s a humor in her voice.
“I don’t, usually…” I say slowly. “You owe me, remember? I got you the tongue of?—”
“Okay, okay. Don’t go airing my business in the open!” Madam Daeval opens the door and reveals herself. A woman who looks no more than twenty years old, but is older than most humans by five or six times.
“Who is that?” she says quickly, looking alarmed when she lays eyes on Felicity.
“My…it doesn’t matter, she needs your help,” I say and shuffle inside with my hand around Felicity’s wrist.
Felicity tugs away from me, and looks around the room at all the jars and bottles of natural and supernatural body parts, herbs, and fungi.
“I’m Felicity,” she tells Daeval and doesn’t seem to shy away from any of the things many people would find disturbing. She barely flinches at the sight of a human hand in a jar just a couple feet from her head.
“I thought you were the one who needed the favor,” Daeval croons and folds her arms, looking at us both curiously.