Witches of Barcelona: A Dark, Funny & Sexy Urban Paranormal Romance Series (Blood Web Chronicles by Caedis Knight (hardest books to read .txt) 📗

for the coppery sheen of their skin. The molten metal moves across their flesh, ebbing and flowing and filling their eyeballs. It’s some magical perversion of Degas. My skin pinpricks in answer to their dance. The girls are too real. Too eerie.

I focus on the silver square next to it.

“That one’s Luisa’s,” Rafi says.

It looks like a simple antique mirror, blackened and cracked, smeared with splashes of bright blue and orange paint. I stare at my own paint-stained reflection.

“I don’t get it.”

As if in answer, the paint starts shifting. It forms the shape of a man, then a woman, and a bed.

“It shows the viewer the best sex of their lives,” Rafi explains.

I look closer. The paint forms into a champagne bottle in the man’s hand, the woman spreading her legs invitingly. Oh no… 

It’s Lukka and I. Memories of an opulent bedroom, of ice cubes and candle wax, fill my head just as they materialize across the mirrored glass.

Rafi snickers behind me. I spin and throw my hands up, obscuring his view.

“Enough, perv. Keep walking.”

“I like a girl who appreciates fine champagne.”

He grins as I shove him further away from the painted porn behind me.

Luisa must have merged her Musemage and Touchmage powers together, infusing the mirror and the paint.

An installation that can sense your best sex and mirror it back to you? Dios mio.

Was Lukka really my best sex ever? A fleshy highlight reel flickers through my mind. Yup, I guess he was. So far.

As I look over my shoulder, I see an old Mage couple staring into the mirror, perplexed. I smile, pushing a still-laughing Rafi forward.

“Luisa’s got balls,” I say. “I’ll give her that.”

The crowd at the entrance to the ballroom has thickened, classical music drifting towards us. I spot Luisa and Beatriz by the tables of champagne and food. Although, surprise, surprise, it’s not ordinary food.

An array of tapas crowds the tables, but the platters remain full no matter how many delicacies are eaten. A giant champagne fountain crowns the table, sending jets of frothy liquid over the guests’ heads from one champagne fountain to the other.

“Don’t even think about it,” I hiss at Rafi, who’s already giving me a cheeky grin and threatening to wave his hands over the water.

“These parties need livening up,” Rafi says, pointing at the crowd. “Same faces, year after year. Always a shortage of hot Warlocks at the MA.”

I laugh, but he’s right.

I spot Señora Estrella talking to a group of older women, all with elaborate hair held up by golden knitting needles. She acknowledges me with a nod, and I smile. I wonder how many of the people here she’s dressed. Rafi eyes up a Warlock nearing us. He’s wearing a suit that looks like it’s made of water, and as he walks, his pants ripple and liquid drips off his suit sleeves, disappearing just as they hit the floor.

“Old and married,” Rafi mumbles.

Another dress I spy has a trailing skirt of charcoal grey, but it’s not until the woman picks it up to walk that I realize it’s made of a thousand moths. They flutter around her, gnawing through layers, perforating the silk as if it were a honeycomb. Powder from the swarm of moths drifts into the air.

Yet the gown that stands out to me the most is the one that’s not special at all. My mother is in the corner of the room speaking to a group of important-looking officials. Among them is a tall blonde male dressed in what looks like some sort of old-school military uniform. He’s surrounded by similar-looking people, all willowy with long limbs and glowing flaxen hair. My breath catches in my throat when I notice the shape of their ears. Fae.

“High Fae prince,” Rafi whispers. “First time I’ve seen him at an equinox event. Very cute.”

The prince catches my eye – his own unnaturally blue, piercing, and icy.

“Who are the others?” I stutter, unable to tear my gaze away from them.

“His delegation. They’ve traveled here from the Netherlands. Have you ever seen what the High Fae can do?”

I shake my head.

“Put it this way, my Elemental magic is a joke compared to theirs. They can bring about entire weather shifts and cause giant storms, that’s how powerful they are.”

My mother is the only woman among them, I realize, as I survey the group in their identical uniforms, sparkling with medals and pins. Clearly, being seen in uniform is more important to them than the MA’s themed pageantry.

The prince is still looking at me, his gaze stealthy and slightly amused. Is my mother talking about me? I study his uniform in more detail and realize he’s sporting gilded epaulets made of ice. I don’t know all that much about the Fae; working for The Blood Web Chronicle hasn’t taken me to any of their Courts, but judging by his clothes and eyes, he’s clearly from the Winter Court.

I’ve never given the Fae much thought, but now that I’ve seen one of their royalty in the flesh, I’m more than intrigued.

“How about a dance?” Rafi asks, ripping my attention away from the beguiling prince.

“I’d love that.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the floor.

“Thank you,” I say, placing one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. “For making sure I’m not on my own. I’m sure you’d prefer to be hanging out with Beatriz and Luisa.”

He chuckles softly. “They’ve already heard all my jokes. It’s nice to have a new audience.”

He pulls me closer, and we start to sway to the music, his calloused hand warm in mine as we begin to dance.

“Doesn’t all this magic ever get overwhelming for you?” I ask.

He laughs at my shoulder, knowing that I’m talking about the quartet. I call it a quartet, but the truth is that although there are only four musicians on stage, they are still managing to play over twenty instruments.

It’s a lot. Too much.

“At first, yeah. Where I come from, there’s no magic. But I’ve grown used to it.”

Rafi