customers came from a black magic underworld she could barely imagine. And yet, who else could she turn to who could actually help her?
“I’m looking to disappear. I need to be completely untraceable.”
He tilted his head, looking very much like a curious crow. “Any particular reason?”
“LaFaye sent one of her personal assassins after me. Tonight he nearly succeeded. The next one probably won’t miss.”
He made a sympathetic noise. “The queen is nothing if not persistent. She enjoys her little games too much.”
“I don’t know how her assassin found me.” She folded her arms, instinctively protecting herself. “I’ve only been back in town since last night.”
Merlin finally tried a sip of his coffee, his mouth twisting in disgust. “You can leave Carlyle, run and hide on a desert island, but LaFaye’s creatures can still track you. Hunting is their specialty and every magic user gives off a unique power signature the way a rose sheds its scent.”
“Magic is traceable?” The night Lightborn had chased her to the warehouse, he’d mentioned tracking her. Then she remembered burning Tramar’s body and silently cursed. Any magical bloodhounds in the area would surely scent that.
“It’s the simplest way for the queen to find you,” Merlin agreed.
“But that’s not possible. I’ve not been using spells,” she protested. “Not before tonight. Since I left LaFaye’s service, I’ve been living the life of a human. No magic for months. Not much, anyway. Just a bit.”
“Just a bit. To be sure.” Merlin’s smile grew rueful. “Out in the modern world, we’re like chain-smokers down to the occasional cigarette in the bar. That doesn’t mean we’re not lighting up.”
Unfortunately, it made sense. Nim lifted her chin. “I can quit completely.” She sounded confident, but the idea seemed bizarre. Magic was part of who she was, as integral as the color of her eyes—and yet she’d done what she could to disguise that, too.
Merlin shook his head. “You’ve got too much power to stay off the radar. You shed it whether you’re casting spells or not. Self-control won’t be your salvation.”
Something very much like panic bloomed in her chest. She could feel Tramar’s grip on her again, sucking away everything inside her. “There’s got to be a way.”
“I can help you bind your power. Then you can leave town and live your life as a human for real. That’s the only true way to disappear.”
Nim fell silent. The enormity of what Merlin suggested loomed like a forbidding mountain, poised to crush her. “I don’t know.”
“You can keep going on as you are,” Merlin said reasonably. “The one advantage you have is assassins prefer to kill in private. Your business is probably safe because there are always staff and customers. Your condo—up to a point. Your real vulnerability is when you walk alone. LaFaye’s bullyboys hunt like big cats, waiting for the ideal place to ambush their prey.”
Nim buried her face in her hands, her battered body throbbing. Merlin waved away the waitress when she approached to take their food order. When Nim didn’t say more, he leaned forward. “Safety is frequently overrated.”
“I thought you could give me a different choice. A spell so LaFaye would look elsewhere or maybe a better disguise.”
“Those spells mask your trail, but they don’t eliminate it. Sooner or later they fail.”
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Nim picked at her hands, revolted by the blood still caked around her nails. “The fae can still feel fear,” she said in a small voice.
He leaned forward, his expression uncharacteristically gentle. “I know. I’ve been told some fae still have pieces of their soul, as if shreds were left behind.”
“Tonight he tried to steal what little I still have.” She bit her lip, panic hot inside her.
“My poor lady.”
She wasn’t anyone’s poor anything. She refused to be. She swallowed hard. “Can I unbind my magic if I choose?”
One corner of his mouth curled up. “Absolutely.”
“Are you sure? I could unleash it if things got bad?”
“Of course.”
She met his eyes. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Merlin’s smile faded. “Before we go a step further, answer me two questions. In the past, you’ve been Camelot’s friend. Are you sure you want to leave Carlyle?”
“I’ve done what I can for Arthur. I helped Gawain destroy Mordred, didn’t I? I made Excalibur, the only weapon that will kill LaFaye.” Nim swallowed hard. “Morgan laughed to have the maker of her nemesis at her beck and call!”
“And?”
“I found Lancelot for Arthur. That’s three things, a magical number by the rules of lore and magic. More than any loyalty demands. I’m done. Now that I’m in the crosshairs, the only thing I am is a magnet for danger.”
Merlin folded his hands, his expression troubled. “I have one other question. Are you really so ready to surrender everything you are? Binding my magic would be my very last choice. I might live in squalor as a mercenary to the worst bottom-feeders of the magical realms, but I will not live a lie.”
“That’s your choice.” Nim could feel Tramar sucking out her soul, the nova of pure agony stopping her heart. “I need to run.”
Merlin nodded slowly. “If this is what you wish, I will do it. You can trust me.”
“I trust you to earn your pay,” she said sharply, weary of his attempts to counsel her. She took the amulet from her pocket and slid it across the table. “I’m sure you recognize this.”
Merlin’s eyes flared, the amber depths suddenly bright. “LaFaye’s jewel.” His fingers closed around the amulet. The chain clinked across the tabletop. “Are you sure you wish to part with this?”
“I’m trying to vanish. I don’t think the queen’s toys will help me become inconspicuous.”
“Of course.” He pocketed the amulet. “Do you want time to think this over, or to take care of loose ends?”
“I’ve been planning this for weeks. I don’t need time.”
Merlin rose, leaving money for the coffees next to his half-empty cup. “Then follow me.”
He turned, not toward the door, but to the back wall of the diner. There was a framed poster of Elvis hanging against faded red wallpaper, but no exit Nim could see. Nevertheless, the sorcerer made an elaborate gesture in the air, and then stepped forward—and vanished as neatly as if he’d been sliced out of the world.
A faint internal
