Read Online Between the Shadow and the Soul by Susanne Winnacker - Free Book Online

Chandelier hall was dozens of feet below the surface in the canalization of Cologne. It was low ceilinged and windowless, definitely not a very welcoming place. The first time Darko had entered the hall he’d fallen to his knees, dizzy and confused by the magical barriers. Mikael had invited him a few weeks after their first encounter on the black market where Darko bought whatever his Master needed. Darko wondered what had made Mikael trust him. Was it something about him? Or was it the fact that he was working for Master Valentine.
    Only a couple of faces turned his way when Darko appeared in the pentagram that was scratched into the stone floor. But with a bored look they turned back to their dark-red clay mugs. They were filled with mead. It was the only drink you could get in the Kronleuchtersaal and it was one of the reasons why witches and wizards came here. Mead was forbidden by the Brotherhood, so if they wanted to drink the honey-sweet brew or celebrate their Sabbaths or just generally be themselves, they came here. It was one of the few safe places for witches in Cologne. It was protected by powerful magic, had been for more than a century, and only invited guests could enter through the wards.
    Darko walked down the slope of brown brick that led to the old wood bar. He knocked his knuckles against the rough surface and old Jago rose from behind the bar, stopping whatever he’d been doing there. His one good, milky eye focused on Darko, his half-open mouth revealing what was left of his teeth – a few yellow stumps – and bright red gums. He didn’t say anything just waited, his fingers stroking his short white beard.
    Darko had ordered the same thing for the last two years, and yet Jago still seemed to expect him to actually give his order. “Drachenblut,” Darko said. The first time he’d heard someone order Dragonblood in the Chandelier Hall he’d been stunned, but soon he’d understood why the brew was called that name. Without a word, Jago turned and picked up one of three jugs. They looked exactly the same to Darko – red clay like the mugs, but Jago always seemed to know which jug contained which brew. Jago put a few Euro coins down on the bar as Jago filled a mug. He took it from Jago and brought it to his lips.
    At once the spicy smell of the mead flooded his nose; it was seasoned with cinnamon, ginger and a pinch of Tabasco. His throat burned and then warmed as the liquid slid down. The first time he’d tried a gulp he’d coughed and turned red to the amusement of the other, mostly older wizards around him. Of course now he knew that most of them drank the normal mead or Viking blood (the wuss version of Dragonblood without the Tabasco and the ginger, and cherry juice instead). Mug in hand and his innards warming slowly from the alcohol and Tabasco, Darko let his gaze stray over the tables in the hall. Not even half of them were occupied and Mikael sat at one that was perched in the opening to an adjourning sewage tunnel.
    His long, white-blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. His skin was the color of chalk and it seemed to glow against the dark stone walls. Darko approached him and Mikael looked up from the pile of Euro coins and notes piled in front of him. His eyes were pale red and blue. It was difficult for witches to stay under the radar, but for Mikael it was close to impossible. He’d been the first albino Darko had ever seen.
    Darko lifted his mug in a way of greeting and Mikael raised his own mug and clanked it against Darko’s. He too was drinking Dragonblood. He’d been the one who introduced Darko to it.
    “Sit down,” Mikael said. He stuffed his money into a leather satchel, not unlike the one Darko carried when he was hunting for hearts for his master.
    Darko sat on the wooden stool across from Mikael and put his mug down on the table, which was dotted with wax from an almost burned down candle on a saucer in the middle. The light bulbs, which had been installed