Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic by Meghan Ciana Doidge

sorcerer.
    “We’re only here to ask you some questions about a witch, my sister Sienna, who we believe is in London.”
    Edmonds narrowed his light brown eyes at me. More magic bloomed in the wand. It was a fairly cool way to harness his sorcerer powers, but kind of silly looking.
    “Probably not a good idea to grab the wand again,” I said, clearly and deliberately addressing Drake. “It might sting you.”
    Drake tilted his head to look at the wand for a second. “I doubt it.”
    The fledgling guardian’s nonchalance didn’t help Edmonds calm down.
    “We aren’t here from Blackwell —”
    “And you aren’t a witch,” Edmonds said. He wasn’t completely sure where to point the wand. Three of us against one runed stick. Even if he could cast three spells at once — which I seriously doubted — he wouldn’t even make it to the door of his narrow office without one of us laying hands on him. Unless he managed to kill us. Dragons were as immortal as a being could get — even more so than vampires in my mind. If it wasn’t for Drake’s parents being dead, and the obvious limp that kept Branson as a trainer rather than a guardian, I would have thought them to be utterly indestructible. I, however, was a half-witch, and therefore not immortal at all.
    “Whether I’m a witch —”
    “You said you were looking for a witch, your sister. Therefore you’d have to be a witch, but your magic isn’t like any witch I’ve ever known.”
    “I have a rare dowsing ability.”
    “You’re one of Blackwell’s collectors.” Edmonds spat the other sorcerer’s name like he didn’t even want the memory of saying it in his mouth.
    “I’m not,” I replied as calmly as possible, though being thought of as Blackwell’s chattel rankled me. “I’m simply Jade Godfrey, granddaughter of Pearl, chair of the Convocation. I bake cupcakes for a living.”
    This admission only deepened Edmonds’ frown. “I’m not the Adept liaison in London.”
    “We have questions and perhaps a caution, nothing more. Our presence in the city will be brief, hopefully, and another of our group is making sure we’re welcome.” At least, I really hoped that was what Kett was doing.
    Edmonds lowered the wand and sat. He kept it in hand, though. He straightened his bow tie and smoothed his hair, which was starting to recede. “Blackwell,” he said, “is not a name to evoke lightly.”
    “You give the sorcerer far too much power with your deference,” Drake said. His gruff tone was so unlike a thirteen-year-old that I had to stifle a laugh. Kandy snorted.
    The sorcerer shook his head at our indifference. “He’s an outlier, as his family has always been. But more so for the last decade.”
    “And yet,” I said, “when asked to provide a list of sorcerers powerful enough to draw the attention of a blood magic-crazed witch, he gave yours at the top of a list of three.”
    Edmonds nodded but didn’t seem to soften on Blackwell. Which was fine with me, as I certainly wasn’t a fan either. “This witch is your sister?”
    “Yes.”
    “My condolences. Witches have a more difficult time holding the blood lust at bay. Sorcerers are naturally distanced from its consuming effects.” Edmonds thoughtfully rolled the wand beneath his fingers on the desk.
    “That makes sense,” I said.
    Edmonds inclined his head. He was still having a difficult time keeping his eyes from Drake, who’d pulled some books off the shelf and seemed to be glaring at the words rather than reading them.
    I sat in one of the two guest chairs. Kandy leaned against the door, always the protector.
    I could tell that Edmonds desperately wanted to ask about Drake but wasn’t going to. All of the Adept were secretive, which was probably a safe default position when outnumbered by human kind, like a million to one. But also, most Adept seemed to think that asking for information and receiving it put them under an obligation. Thankfully, I’d decided that was an