Since he was here, I supposed I might as well get this over with. “Alright,” I said with a huff of defeat. “I’ve decided to continue our…agreement. Assuming you’ll stop being such a constant pain in my ass.”
He smiled mischievously. “I’ll make no promises, Farrow.”
Scathingly, I retorted, “We both know that isn’t true, if those runes branded on your arm are any indication.”
Casimir stilled, the smile slipping from his lips. “You’ve got me there,” he conceded.
I tried not to feel guilty at the way his expression went distant and hollow. Why should I feel guilty? I waited, but he didn’t show any signs of leaving.
I sighed, resigned to suffer his presence for a while longer. “I suppose there’s a reason you’re still here?”
Ignoring my prodding, Casimir swiped the book I’d been reading. “Daemons and Ghouls: A Study for the Paranormally Curious,” he read off the title. He glanced up at me, his lips twitching as he fought back a laugh.
I shot him a withering glare. “Do you have news, or are you just here to pester me?” I demanded, snatching the book from his thieving fingers.
“Why not both?” he said, still with that taunting smile. “Alright,” he said with a sigh. “I can see you’re in no mood for joking.” Lowering his voice, he added, “My source tells me they are still planning to go ahead with the ritual, and in the meantime, they continue to search for the Keeper’s Heir.”
“Who’s your source?”
“Need to know basis, Farrow,” he intoned.
Before I could do more than open my mouth in protest, he interjected, “Look, if you still want to help August, then our priority needs to be making you less—” He eyed me up and down, ignoring the way I scowled, clearly affronted. “Vulnerable. Since—by whatever dumb luck the gods deigned to grace you with—you appear to be immune to Evren’s glamours, that just leaves us with the problem of Devereaux. And of course, the others.”
I recalled the look of lethal outrage plastered across Evren’s face the moment he realized his powers failed to affect me in the slightest with some satisfaction. But it was a hollow, fleeting sort of satisfaction. I’d bested him without knowing how I’d done it.
“Evren’s glamour aside,” he went on, noting the change in my expression, “you are undeniably mortal, and therefore vulnerable. You’ll be no good to me if Devereaux can get inside your head and control you. We need to practice until you’re able to resist his compulsion glamours.” His eyes darkened as he moved closer, leaning in to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and I shivered at the touch. “Otherwise, you’ll be as helpless as Sinclair.”
Even as I batted away his hand, the truth of his words struck low in my gut. I couldn’t even argue with him. I was weak. If Devereaux could cast me under his spell with a mere touch, I was a liability.
“Fine,” I said, begrudging his point. “But how exactly do you propose I practice?” I held back a grimace. I wasn’t exactly keen on experiencing that loss of autonomy again. The eerie, uncanny feeling that someone else was in control of my body.
He looked at me like the answer was obvious. “I’ll be teaching you, of course.”
I groaned.Of course.“How can you teach me?”
“With magic, obviously,” he replied smoothly.
“Isn’t there a book on glamours I could read instead?”
Casimir only shook his head, suppressing laughter. “Afraid not. Lucky for you, I happen to possess a similar aptitude for the art of compulsion.” He waved a hand, as if anticipating my apprehension. His gold earring glinted in the light of a nearby sconce. “Not in the same manner as Devereaux,” he said before I had the chance to look apprehensive. “My abilities manifest very differently.” Then, seeing the disapprobation still written plainly across my face, he shot me a self-satisfied smile. “It’s one of my many talents.”
“And you expect me to just let you use your magic on me?” I said.
His lips twisted into a look of disapproval as he withdrew his gold cigarette case. “Do you have a better idea?” he asked, placing a cigarette between his lips.
“No,” I admitted. “Hey—I thought you promised not to smoke in my presence?” I eyed the cigarette disdainfully.
He groaned in dissatisfaction. “Can’t I have a pass, just this once?”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you owe me.”
“Yes, yes,” he said dismissively. “So, what about the training?”
I hesitated. “I’m not sure I entirely trust you.”
A shadow flickered across his face at my confession. Smoke plumed in the air between us as he leaned in closer. I remained as rigid as steel, bracing myself for his reaction.
“Well, it’s too bad you don’t have any other options,” he said, his eyes glimmering with triumph.