Gray witch, p.10
Gray Witch, page 10
“The Amherst kids said their club was the largest in the state.” I was thinking out loud. “Do you think they meant LARPing? Or their online guild?”
“We’re working on that now. A number that big? Probably online. Given how small Raymond is, they must have LARPer buddies flung across the nearby counties to amount to anything.”
If whoever summoned Frankie was connected to the Amhersts, and their IRL members were that far-flung, then we had a summoning ring on our hands.
“If they recruited LARPers from their online guild,” Asa added, “they’ll be selective.”
“Only those with magic, or the potential for magic,” Clay agreed, “need apply.”
“The logo must be how they identify one another.” An if you know, you know thing. “Marking homes or businesses as safe havens, but safe for what? Meetings of their murder club?”
“The Kellies emailed an update.” Colby sounded more determined than ever. “I have to go.”
After she hung up, I sat there for a moment, allowing myself to breathe.
She was going to be okay. Already, she was climbing back to herself. This wouldn’t break her.
“I’m going to read up on the LARPer site,” I told Asa. “See what it can tell us.”
Whoever designed the website knew what they were doing. It wasn’t the type of drag-and-drop or template site so many businesses used to cut costs. No, this had all the hallmarks of a passion project. I wasn’t surprised to see the work credited to Markus Amherst at the bottom of the homepage.
“This says there are members from all over the state.” I skimmed further. “They have weekly online meetings and monthly in-person gatherings. There’s a painfully long set of interview questions if you’d like to be considered as a prospect, but anyone ‘with magic in their hearts’ is welcome to apply.”
“That means this problem could be more widespread than we first thought.”
“This says you gain access to the membership roster once your application has been approved.” I mulled over that. “Probably so you can pair up in various MMRPGs.”
There was no telling what contact information would be provided. Probably not names, addresses, or phone numbers. That was too old school. I was leaning toward social media and player handles with email addresses buried within a funnel of forwarding addresses.
“There’s also a link to the sister’s online wig store.” I clicked it. “She’s got some nice pieces.”
I got the creeps imagining she might keep trophies of her commissions to forge links to her clients.
That was why I was so quick to make sure no hairs we left behind at the Amherst Inn could be used against us. Wigs with synthetic hair were a gray area, but wigs made from donated hair? That could get dangerous fast. Especially since a girl like Trinity, creating her own styles, could even reverse-engineer a spell if she hid a rooted strand of her hair where it was unlikely to be noticed by the buyer.
“What are you thinking?” Asa cut his eyes toward me. “You’re quiet.”
“Just recalling how very many ways we can get screwed if we leave behind a single strand of hair.” I let my head fall back against the seat. “There’s a spell I used to perform before leaving any room I had spent time in, back when I was paranoid other Black Hat agents were out to get me.”
To be fair, I had given them plenty of reasons for retaliation. I still had a baggy of hairs in the safe that belonged to former coworkers who made their animosity clear. Like Marty. I really ought to burn those and rid myself of the temptation.
Back when I first ran from the Bureau, I expected those people to hunt me, and I wanted insurance. Now I had no reason to hold on to them, except out of habit. Or spite. Most of them were dead anyway. Black Hat agents don’t live long, and those few were no exception.
Pages and pages of photos from previous gatherings proved the group was active, and the captions on each picture showed the website was updated frequently. That meant, within reason, the information was recent and accurate. It also gave Colby a jumping-off point to begin identifying the people in those photos to give us a list of suspects for the summoning ring.
A stinging pressure behind my eyes yanked me from my thoughts with a visceral tug.
Reality blurred around me, pitching my stomach until I tasted bile. Convinced the SUV had been hit, that we must be tumbling into a ditch, I startled when my vision cleared to show the same stretch of road.
A dozen blood-red roses that smelled of copper and sulfur filled my arms, their thorns ripping furrows in my skin. Reeling, I swung my head toward Asa, panic a heartbeat in my throat, but he gave no indication his world had tilted. That meant I was the only one whose brain got tossed in the washer on spin cycle.
“What happened?” I couldn’t hear over the thundering of my pulse. “Where did these come from?”
The steering wheel groaned beneath Asa’s fingers. “Father sent them.”
“Goddess bless.” I dumped them in the floorboard. “The thorns are an inch long.”
“Clay would find it amusing my father has a crush on you.”
“Yes, well, Clay finds it amusing to make his belly button talk too.” I gestured to the bloodthirsty gift. “What do we do about this?” I kicked the bouquet for good measure. “Your dad needs to take a hint.”
“We stop for the night.”
“That was the plan,” I said slowly. “In Natchez.”
“The strain from the portal means our bodies are convinced they haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.” He kept stealing glances at the messy floorboard. “We might be walking into another Amherst Inn situation. We need to find a safe hotel, get some food and sleep, and come at this tomorrow.”
“Parish will have a fit.”
“We’re no good to him dead on our feet.”
“All right.” I was easy to convince. “I’ll update Colby.”
>>I’ll book you a room in Washington. It’s about fifteen minutes outside Natchez. I’ll adjust your reservation at March Manor online so your check-in is tomorrow.
>Many blessings upon your antennaed head.
>>You definitely need sleep. You’re being weirder than usual.
>Thanks?
>>It wasn’t a compliment.
>>I’m also ordering pad see ew and drunken noodles to be delivered from a local Thai restaurant.
>You’re definitely my favorite moth.
>>Sleep. Eat. Brain tomorrow.
That might have been the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me.
Our lodgings for the night appeared on my right, and he cut into the parking lot with a squeal of tires.
“Asa?”
He got out, circled the SUV, and opened my door. He reached in, gathered the bouquet, and tossed it on the asphalt. I took the initiative, slid out, and stomped until every petal was bruised. I thought that would be it, that the purpose was catharsis, but Asa had other plans.
Crouching above the mess, he waved a hand over it, an incantation on his lips, and the debris swirled away to nothing.
“How…?” I gawked at him. “You never mentioned you could do magic.”
“As I’ve said, Father is a big believer the word no doesn’t exist. He spells his gifts to appear, and he gives the target of his affection the opportunity to return to sender. He considers it foreplay. Daemons enjoy the hunt.” He warned me, “This isn’t a solution. He’ll push until he gets what he wants, or I kill him.”
For Asa to reject a present on my behalf would only cause his father to double down until he heard direct from me. But then his suggestion registered, and my tongue turned to sand in my mouth.
“Kill him?” I forced my chapped lips to move. “Then you would be High King. That’s not a solution either.”
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Fisting the front of his shirt, I led him inside to work up an appetite before dinner arrived.
8
Had Asa not set an alarm, I might not have woken at dusk. Or dawn. Or dusk the next day.
Used to paying the toll for travel between this world and the Hael pocket realm, Asa had a headache to my hangover. I inhaled the three breakfast burritos he ordered before we showered and wished he had bought ten more. Fluffy eggs, crisp smoked bacon, avocado, crunchy hashbrowns, cotija cheese, pickled jalapeños, and chipotle aioli. What wasn’t to love?
We took our spicy Café de Olla to go, which gave me time to answer the backlog of texts and calls from Parish, and the Natchez team, demanding our ETA while Asa drove us to our next potential link in the summoner’s ring.
The VacayNStay was a grand old colonial with a historically accurate blue-on-blue color palette. Fountain in the front, pulsing in time with a light show, and a garden in the back, hung with fairy lights. Perfect for a romantic stroll. The lawn was thick and lush. Impressive. And the circular driveway had been extended into more of a Q than an O, with guest parking in the tiny lot—more of a strip—off the side of the house.
Definitely not a place you rolled up to and thought, This is it. This is where it all ends.
The Amherst kids could take a lesson from the resident summoner on subtlety.
There were three other cars, two with out-of-state plates. Those must be guests, the same as us. That would make sneaking around that much harder, but it also gave us a layer of insulation among others.
Before we got tangled up in our next line of inquiry, I shot Clay a text.
>We’re here.
>>Keep us updated.
“Do you think Markus warned his friends?” Asa left our things in the SUV. “It might cause problems.”
“If he did, and they can identify us, this will all be over quickly.” The Amhersts could have snapped pictures of us on their phones at any given time. They were likely more inclined to do so after we asked them not to. “We played it straight with the Amhersts.” Mostly. They knew we were Bureau, just not which one. “What’s our ploy here?”
“Honeymooners,” he suggested. “That might earn us fewer interruptions.”
“Hmm.” I pretended to consider his idea. “It would also explain why we have no clothes.”
Just what we had on our backs, both of us rumpled from yesterday’s adventures.
“Oh?”
“I ripped them off you.” I popped a button on his shirt. “They’re in tatters down the interstate.”
“And your clothes?” He leaned in closer. “What happened to them?”
“You,” I said simply.
Leaning down, he brushed his mouth over mine and latched his arms around my waist.
“We’re being watched.” His breath coasted over my lips. “Is Operation Honeymoon a go?”
“We’re already making out in the parking lot,” I murmured. “I would hate to blow our cover.”
With a flourish, Asa twirled me into a dance that tangled my feet with his in a way that made me want to kick his legs from under him and ride him down to the ground. Heat in his eyes, he dipped me until my hair brushed the gravel then dragged a fingertip from my chin to the valley between my breasts.
This would have looked so much more convincing if I were in a dress to flatter his black suit.
Oh well.
We work with what we’re given.
Loud claps snapped me to attention, and I found a woman in her midsixties swooning on the porch.
“That was lovely.” She continued her applause. “How romantic.”
“Hi.” I let Asa pull me upright and tuck me under his arm. “We have a reservation.”
“Are you two having an affair? With that much passion, you can’t be married.”
The question caught me off guard, and I stood there, struck dumb.
“Yes,” Asa confided with utter seriousness. “I hope that’s all right.” He gazed at me, full of mischief. “I’m going to marry this one, one day. As soon as the divorce goes through.”
“I’m sorry your previous marriage didn’t work out, but it’s clearly for the best. You two are magic together.” She held open the door. “Come on in, and I’ll get your room key.”
Face pressed into Asa’s side, I whispered, “I’m sorry to hear about your previous marriage too.”
“Yes, well, my wife had an affair with a fish farmer. I’m vegan, so the betrayal was twice as painful.”
There was a familiar element about the story he was telling, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Then it hit me.
That was the plot of the last improbable shifter novel I read, one about an octopus and a manatee.
I knew he had been reading over my shoulder, and he cast himself in the role of the wronged manatee.
“When you roe, you roe, I guess.” I patted his hand. “What can you do?”
Before he could hit me with a zinger about fish eggs, the woman waved us into the home.
“I’m Lucy March,” she introduced herself in the living room turned lobby. She hustled to a spindly chair set before an antique desk with a hutch full of keys that acted as the check-in area. “I live just down there.” She pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “You’re welcome to use the kitchen, but it’s a shared space. There are rules posted on the fridge.” She smiled as she passed over our key, an actual metal one plucked off its hook. “Enjoy yourselves.”
“We will,” Asa promised her, drawing me against him in a clench pose. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
I didn’t have to fake my blush when Ms. March mouthed, Lucky girl.
As it happened, our room was on the bottom floor, so we didn’t have far to go to examine our lodgings. It also meant that Ms. March stared a hole in our backs until we shut the door behind us.
“I can’t help but notice how close our room is to hers.” I twitched my nose. “Voyeur, much?”
“The lot is full.” Asa pinned me to the door with his hips. “It might be the last available room.”
“I can’t be the only one picturing her holding a glass to the wall to listen in on us.”
“You were,” Asa said on a sigh, “until you slotted that mental picture into my head.”
Hands on his shoulders, creeping up to his neck, I stilled my fingers. “It’s quiet.”
“The lot is full,” he repeated, cocking his head to listen. “Where are the other guests?”
“Feel up to taking a walk?”
“I’m definitely feeling up,” he lamented, bracing his forehead against mine. “Give me a minute.”
“Maybe I can help with that.”
Sliding my back down the door, I traded my grip on his shoulders for one on his hips. I hit my knees, and Asa groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair. I unfastened his belt, opened the button on his slacks, and tugged down his zipper. He was hot and hard under my hands as I freed him from his boxers and took him into my mouth.
“Rue.” Asa’s hands spasmed as I drew him deeper. “Gods.”
The taste of him was imprinted on my brain, and I savored it as a low growl slipped past his lips. His spine locked, his orgasm swift and brutal, and I grinned as his knees failed him. He hit the carpet before me, wobbly as an unset salted cajeta chocolate flan, his self-control unraveled in record time.
Yeah.
I was proud of myself.
“Your turn.” He reached for my waistband. “It’s only fair.”
“You’ll have to owe me.” I shivered as he sank his hand down the front of my pants. “We should—”
“—be right here, right now, doing this.” He dipped into my underwear. “I love you, Rue.”
“I love you too,” I panted as his fingers found me slick and eager. “Very much.” I bucked against his hand as he entered me. “Very, very much.” As his thumb stroked that tiny bundle of nerves, I quivered with need. “Very, very, very much.”
Delicious tension coiled low in my gut, and I rode him faster, blushing as he watched me.
“You’re so beautiful.” He raked his fingers through my hair, cupped the back of my head, and brought me in for a kiss that ignited the burn between my thighs into an inferno. “And you’re mine.”
The last word held a promise, that he would protect me from his father.
And I would protect him.
The sweep of his tongue bumped his piercing into my teeth. He broke the kiss to nip his way across my jaw, and when he sank his teeth into my throat hard enough to bruise, I came apart in his hand.
“We have work to do.” I couldn’t catch my breath. “How am I supposed to brain now?”
All I wanted to do after that was, well, him. But we had a case, and possibly an eavesdropper.
Neither of which did anything to cool the heat swirling through me when I noticed Asa wasn’t done yet.
A text from Clay foiled my evil plot to straddle Asa before he zipped his pants.
>>You’ve got a live one.
>>Make that a dead one.
>Break that down for me.
>>A man was eviscerated outside the Shots Fired bar two hours ago. A secondary team has already secured the scene. They’re waiting on you. Maybe actually go this time?
>To think I almost regretted not having you around to share my breakfast burritos with.
>>You ate breakfast burritos? Without me? How could you?
>Over the lips, past the gums, look out stomach, here it comes?
After blanking the screen, I started to rise, only to realize Asa’s hand was still down my pants.
“We can’t investigate like this.” I looked pointedly down. “We don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
“That you literally lead me around by your—” he flexed his fingers, “—sparkling personality.”
“Nice save.” I shoved him back. “Especially since, judging by your wrist, I can tell your poor hand was trapped down there by my fat roll.” I rubbed my stomach. “I’ve been eating too many cupcakes lately.”
Even now that we spent all our time together, he still sent I miss you cupcakes as a delicious reminder of our early courtship. Just not in bulk.
“You can never eat too many cupcakes.” He got our feet under us. “And I wasn’t trapped.” He steadied me. “I didn’t want to leave.”
Fresh heat spilled into my cheeks. “We should clean up and get going.”
