“Oh, thank you.” I flashed a charming smile that I hoped hid my relief. I’d set off his magical metal detector and he was coming over to check me out. That was all. He was clueless otherwise. Praise Cthulhu.

“So, what are you?” he quizzed. “What class?”

Wow. Just asking me outright? Rude.

There were five classes of magic. Spiritalis, which comprised the nature-loving, fae-worshipping witches and druids. Arcana, which included sorcerers like Lienna, as well as potion-specialist alchemists and healers. Demonica, which was made up of lunatics who thought hellish monsters made great pets. Elementaria, which consisted of element-wielding mages like my wonderful ex-cellmate.

And last but not least, Psychica. We were the mythics with abilities that weren’t classical magic powers but weird brain powers, like telekinesis, telepathy, divination, dream manipulation … and whatever extra-freaky thing I was.

“But we only just met,” I evaded, batting my eyelashes coyly. “At least wait for our second date before asking personal questions.”

His smile didn’t shift in the slightest. He was like an alien trying to imitate humans, and no one was buying it. At least, I wasn’t.

“I myself am Elementaria,” he informed me. “A tempemage.”

I couldn’t remember what a tempemage was, but I didn’t let on.

“Psychica,” I revealed reluctantly, keeping it vague. “So is that what you collect? Artifacts?”

“Amongst other things. You must be very powerful, Kit, or very rare to give off such a strong signal to the compass … I was all the way back in my office when you came in and you still set it off. That’s unusual.”

“Maybe it just knew how badly I needed this coffee.”

He tucked the necklace back into his turtleneck. “So, what are you? Color me curious.”

I would color him creepily persistent. I grabbed my coffee mug for the first time and took a sip. Yup. It tasted as bad as it smelled. Did they mix it with cat litter or something?

“Like I said, Faustus,” I replied calmly, as though my taste buds hadn’t gone into a full civil revolt. “I don’t put out on a first date.”

“I have a fine nose for mythical abilities.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the group of grimy dudes on the opposite side of the room. “All my associates possess unique or powerful abilities. I guess you could say I’ve collected them as well.”

There were no two ways about it—that was a super weird thing to say.

“Fascinating,” I said flatly.

Faustus made a noise that might’ve been a laugh but resembled something closer to a pigeon being flattened by a truck. “I like to befriend mythics of all types. I find it keeps my social life more interesting. We could be good friends, Kit. I’m sure I could be useful in some way to a mythic like you.”

My eyes narrowed. Hmm. Was he laboring under the assumption that I was here because I wanted something from him? That could work in my favor.

Saving my own ass was my top priority, but I hadn’t forgotten about Quentin and his ambitions. The whole point of Blue Smoke was to steal an artifact, and if my former pal planned to complete that theft, I’d like to know what nasty magic I would thusly need to avoid.

And on the off chance I did find out some juicy details, maybe I would drop an anonymous email to one [email protected]—or whatever Lienna’s email was. She could do a quick turnaround on her career after my embarrassing escape, and Quentin would get what was coming to him for screwing with Maggie’s emotions. With one well-aimed stone, I’d take care of two birds that had been pecking at my conscience for days.

Daring to shift more of my brainpower away from the halluci-bomb, I focused on Faustus. “Let’s circle back to artifacts. You don’t merely collect them. You’re a dealer.”

The corners of his smile drove deeper into his cheeks. “Are you in need of an artifact, Kit? Or do you have something to sell?”

“That depends. Any dive bar owner can call himself a dealer and peddle dime-a-dozen rain detectors, but I’m looking for a higher caliber of vendor.”

Was a rain detector even a thing? I had no idea, but it sounded legit.

“I assure you I am the premier dealer in the Eastside. You might find flashier trinkets at a Yamada auction, but my wares are far more unique. Exceptional. Rare, even.”

A premier dealer, eh? I flicked a glance around the disgusting dining room. Somehow, I doubted that.

“I have some … information that would be of interest to you.” I arched my eyebrows. “But I’ve gotta be honest here, Faustus. I suspect it’s above your pay grade.”

His triangular mouth reversed direction. “I doubt that, Kit. What sort of information?”

“Artifact related, obviously.” I flashed a toothy grin. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with Cerberus?”

His eyes widened. “You know about … I see. Impressive, Kit.”

“I’m often underestimated,” I replied flippantly, even though I had no idea what he meant. Lots of people knew about the security guild, so that couldn’t be what had impressed him.

“Certainly, certainly. I haven’t been able to uncover much—though not for a lack of connections on my part. According to the rumors, not even Cerberus has a lead on the thief.”

A chill washed over me, and I hastily checked myself. I couldn’t lose focus on the halluci-bomb.

Faustus’s unblinking stare clung eerily to my face. “I’ve been watching the market for five weeks now, but the artifact has yet to appear. And with the scarcity of intelligence on the heist, I admit I have doubts that you know something of significant value about it.”

“Maybe the artifact isn’t on the market because the thieves are sitting on their prize,” I bluffed, keeping it vague. “It isn’t something you’d casually offer up for auction, after all.”

“But what else would they do with it? Not use it, surely.”

“You never know.” I canted my head. “Do you think it’s as powerful as they say?”

“Likely even more so,” Faustus sniffed. “We can’t know the true extent of its amplification properties, but considering the security Cerberus had applied to it, in the right hands, its power would be quite magnificent.”

Amplification properties? I did not like the sound of that.

Sitting forward, I looked into his creeptastic eyes and took a shot in the dark. “I heard it’s ideal for amplifying psychic powers.”

“As have I.” A spark lit those eyes. “Would you like to amplify your powers tenfold, Kit? Or, as Cerberus claims, twentyfold?”

The chill in my blood had reached subzero.

“No,” I muttered distractedly, fighting to drag my focus off my burgeoning dread and back to the halluci-bomb. “But I know someone who would.”

“A psychic?”

“The worst kind.”

“Hmm.”

As Faustus’s geometric smile bloomed anew, I decided it was well past time to make like an amoeba and split. Where was Vera? The fuel in my psychic tank was dwindling—not helped by that healthy dose of “oh shit” fear.