Tales of the Otherworld Read Online Free PDF Page A

dollar signs from my eyes and find a buyer I trusted. Well, one I trusted well enough to do business with.
    Foley didn’t have his goons follow me from the restaurant, which I supposed was a good sign. I hightailed it back to my apartment, though. I’d make a few calls, see if word on the street changed and, if not, it’d be moving day. That didn’t bother me; I never stayed in one place long. It was the running-away part I hated.
    When I reached my apartment door, I cast a sensing spell. It came back positive. Someone was inside.
    I readied an energy bolt, then moved against the door, bringing my face closer. A spot cleared, like a dirty peephole. Inside, I could see…gray cloth.
    The door opened. My hand flew up, spell ready.
    “Ms. Levine.”
    I looked up into impossibly blue eyes and felt a double shot of recognition. The first told me he was the Nast I’d seen earlier. The second said he was a sorcerer—a racial warning system. Witches and sorcerers have never been the best of friends.
    “Come in,” he said, moving back.
    I hesitated, then stepped inside. “Something tells me we’re doing this wrong, considering it’s my apartment.”
    No hint of a smile warmed those icy eyes. He only dipped his chin, acknowledging the point. “My apologies for breaking in. There were some unsavory characters in the hall. This seemed wiser. I used a spell so I wouldn’t damage the lock.”
    “You know witch magic?” That’s rare for sorcerers. Rarer still for Cabal ones.
    He shrugged. “A little. Very little, I’m afraid, which is why I’m here.” He extended a hand. “Kristof Nast.”
    Now my internal warning system screamed louder than a banshee’s wail. This wasn’t just some Nast VP, second cousin twice removed. It was the CEO’s oldest son, the heir to the empire. I couldn’t even imagine what he was doing in my apartment. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to find out.
    When I didn’t respond, he just stood there, hand out, waiting until I shook it.
    “Look, whatever you think I’ve done—” I began.
    “I’m not Terrance Foley, Ms. Levine. If you’d done something to displease my Cabal, I would hardly show up myself.”
    So he knew about Terrance? What had he heard? I was tempted to ask, but wisely kept my mouth shut until I could venture a calm “How can I help you, Mr. Nast?”
    “I want training. Witch magic training. I believe you offer that?”
    I headed into the living room, taking a moment to compose myself. He couldn’t even be bothered to come up with a credible lie? I was in serious, serious shit. I racked my brain to think of something, anything, I could have done to piss off a Cabal. But on the scale of badasses, I ranked about a four. Okay, maybe a three, but I was working on it. Still, I’d done nothing to warrant the attention of any Cabal, let alone the Nasts. Which meant someone was spreading stories.
    “What have you heard?” I said as he took a seat on my couch.
    “That you’re a good teacher. Not the best, but that’s understandable, given your youth. You’re discreet, though, which is my most important requirement.”
    “You really want witch training?”
    Those cool eyes met mine. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
    “I know your Cabal has its resident witch. Olivia Enwright. She’s decent enough. Why come to me?”
    He gave me a look that said if I was honestly asking, then maybe I wasn’t as bright as he’d hoped. No Cabal sorcerer would ever admit that he saw value in witch magic. Not openly, at least, meaning he couldn’t use a Cabal witch’s services.
    “I’m a mediocre spellcaster,” Nast said. “My position doesn’t require any particular knowledge or aptitude in that area. However, there are facets of witch magic I could use in other areas of my life.”
    “Such as?”
    That cool look again, handsome face impassive. He didn’t say “None of your damn business,” but I heard the words loud and clear.
    He went on, “Corporate headquarters