Gray witch, p.13
Gray Witch, page 13
This was the ideal opening for Asa to bluster about how we were in fascination or claim we were already mates, which was a lie that got easier the more often we told it, but he remained quiet. I appreciated that he let me handle my own PR. I had been a myth within Black Hat, but I was very much flesh and blood now. I had an identity to either reinforce or discard, and he was letting me choose which way to go.
“Asa is my mate.” I averted my face from his. “He’s the only man who can touch me and keep his hands.”
That was almost true. Hair was the trigger for y’nai, but Finch didn’t need to know that.
“You have a mate?” Finch recoiled. “You?” His lip curled up on one side as he gave Asa a closer look. “You’re a damn fool for tying your life to hers. I hope the sex is worth it. She’s only going to break your heart.” He lifted a shoulder. “And then eat it.”
A crackle of flame teased the corner of my eye as the daemon burst from Asa’s skin with a ripping noise that did not bode well for his new suit.
“Rue mine.” He clamped his hand around Finch’s throat. “Rue love me.”
“Rue loves power,” he rasped, then his lips fell slack. “You’re that daemon prince.” He laughed, bitter and sharp. “No wonder she chose you.”
The daemon picked Finch off the ground and slung him across the road into the bushes. “Finch dumb.”
“You got that right.” I petted his hair to soothe him. “But I wasn’t a nice person back when he knew me.”
That version of me? He wasn’t wrong about her. Even a little.
“Still dumb,” he huffed. “Rue mine.” He gathered me into a spine-popping hug. “Rue love me.”
“I do love you. Both of you.” I laughed under my breath. “But you need to put me down.”
“I hold Rue.” He nuzzled me. “Rue second-best friend.”
“You’re killing my tough guy rep.” I caught up to what he was saying and gasped. “Traitor.”
“Colby play with me and feed me oranges.” He turned solemn. “Prevent scurvy.”
“Goddess bless,” I muttered. “She’s brainwashed you.”
The odds of him catching scurvy were about the same as me caving to that expansion pack.
“It okay to be jelly.” He patted my head. “Asa still love you most.”
The daemon was spending way too much time with Colby if he was picking up her lingo, but I was amused that he had a favorite person that wasn’t me. More proof he and Asa were separate entities.
“While you’re here—” I indicated the body, “—can you examine the scene for me?”
Given the opportunity, I texted Colby for a favor.
>Can you have a few of Asa’s good suits sent to the hotel?
>>Store bought not holding up?
>The daemon just shredded one like tissue paper.
>>I’ll push the requisition through. You should have them by morning.
>I’ll owe you a basket of oranges for this.
The daemon, busy with his task, hadn’t noticed I was multitasking and began his report.
“Warg.” He didn’t have to scent the air to tell. “Hungry warg.”
“Looks that way.” I didn’t want to lead him into anything, but I had to ask, “Do you smell magic?”
The daemon crouched over the body, inhaling in long breaths. “Smell like dirt and thunder light.”
“Lightning?” I waited for his nod. “The magic or the body?”
“Magic.” He leaned down, nose almost brushing the victim’s throat. “But not magic.” He frowned. “Death.” His scowl grew more pronounced. “Old death.”
“The killer was a ghost,” I told him, sounding like an absolute lunatic. “Can you track him?”
“Not sure,” he admitted. “Smell like graveyard storm.”
Based on what Clay’s contact reported, I could see how that might be the case. Ghosts didn’t secrete oils or sweat or any number of things that gave a person their scent. It would be down to the magic animating it. Or a fresh kill.
“Thanks.” I gave him one last pet. “Can I have Asa back?”
This time, there was no negotiation, for which I was thankful. I gave Asa a moment to collect himself then texted Colby with a job.
> The killer was definitely a warg. The daemon thinks he can track it, but we need a starting point.
>>I’ve already booked you into the Laurie Motel. It’s got the same seal as the others incorporated into its logo. There’s no check-in office or manager on site. You get your code via the app, punch it in, and let yourself into your room. Looks like there’s a number for a maintenance guy if you have questions.
>>Markus Amherst is listed as the website designer.
>You’re brilliant. You know that?”
>>Yep.
>And modest.
>>Also yep.
>And the daemon told me I’m his second-best friend now, so thanks for that.
>>I taught him the Mystic Mambo. He’s forever in my debt.
Of course, she was responsible for his victory dance.
>>I’m emailing your Laurie Motel confirmation. For tomorrow. I booked you somewhere safe to crash tonight. Ordering food now. Looks like pizza is your only hope this late.
A beat later, my phone pinged.
>I love you.
>>I know.
Relieved to hear she was back on track, I updated Asa, who was in bad shape. His discount clothes might have looked good on, but they weren’t of the stretchy variety. His outfit was ruined. There was no saving it. If not for his strategically placed hands, I might have had to murder gawkers.
“You’ll be okay, right, Finch?” I leaned over him. “Want me to call Evette?”
“Gods, no.” Grass rustled in the ditch. “I’ll just rest here a minute.”
After recording the scene and discovering nothing undocumented, Asa and I returned to the SUV.
“I imagine that was the equivalent to a high school reunion for you,” Asa teased. “How did it go?”
“I remembered why I became friends with Evette. Eight hands made it easy for us to pick pockets and use other people’s money to buy ourselves drinks. She was also popular with guys, for obvious reasons.” I lost the fight against a nostalgic laugh. “Her catchphrase was no holes barred.” Asa shifted on his seat, and I couldn’t resist asking, “Did that make you pucker?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Oh, he did, but I wouldn’t hold it against him. We all had our limits, and he was only now exploring his.
“Finch was always trailing after Evette.” I switched subjects. “Looks like he still is. He’s a crane shifter.”
“A crane shifter named Finch.”
“I can’t remember his actual name.” A common problem for me. “Evette started calling him that, and it stuck.”
A burn in my chest I had learned to identify as shame spread through me at how we had treated him. How we had treated everyone. I didn’t select victims the way she did. I tended to abuse everyone who got in my way equally, which wasn’t any better. It might have even been worse.
“You outgrew them.”
“We weren’t friends.” I had known that then, and I knew it now. “Evette sought me out because she wanted to climb high in the ranks as fast as possible. Everyone knew the director favored me, but not why. She figured if she stuck with me, we’d both make it to the top. Finch, as I said, was a third wheel. He doesn’t have much in the way of ambition, aside from earning Evette’s approval.”
“I don’t understand what makes a woman like that appealing. Why would he stay?”
“He’s not a glutton for abuse, if that’s what worries you. She kissed him the first time she saw him, because he was new and cute and covered in blood from the reason Black Hat recruited him in the first place. Her saliva is addictive. As long as she swaps spit with him every so often, she can string him along for the rest of his life. Or hers.” I cut my eyes toward Asa. “Remind you of anyone?”
“I do recall being fixated on your saliva,” he mused. “Are you sure you don’t have cecaelian ancestors?”
With aquatic daemons in my pedigree, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn I had distant octopedal relations.
“Hey, now, I wasn’t the problem.” I jabbed him for good measure. “You were the problem.”
“I was an innocent dae, swept into a whirlwind romance with a gray witch—”
“A gray witch?” I twisted to face him as he pulled onto the road. “Why do you say that?”
“Your father mentioned blending his power with your mother’s skill to produce a magic that isn’t one or the other. You’re using your training as a black witch to harness white magic, and Colby’s magic.” He searched my face to see if I was upset. “You’re the closest thing to a gray witch I can imagine exists.”
“It’s funny you say that.” I plugged in the directions to our hotel. “I’ve been thinking along the same lines. It feels more honest.” I decided that was the right word. “I’m not out practicing black magic, but my white magic was peculiar before Colby.” I considered his words. “Practicing one craft while pulling on knowledge and training from another gives me mixed results sometimes.”
Back in Samford, when my days were filled with tinctures and salves, I hadn’t used enough power to grasp the discrepancies. I was magic lite. These days, I was slinging spells left and right, and the end product wasn’t like anything I had ever done or seen.
“How do you feel about it?”
“Ugh.” I flopped my head to one side. “I hate that word.”
Feel.
Blech.
A soft crease at the corners of his eyes told me my joke had landed without hurting him, which meant I was getting better at this relationship thing. But the lift of his eyebrows told me I wasn’t off the hook.
“It feels more authentic,” I decided. “What do you think about me downgrading my classification?”
“You’re not upholding your old reputation. You’re carving out a new one. I fully support that.” His lips tipped up at one corner. “Based on tonight’s events, I would say our coworkers are as afraid of you as ever. I don’t think you have to worry on that score either.”
Had the stink radiating off the pendant not tricked the noses of the people who ran in my circles early in my career, I would have been outed on the spot. They would have known I had changed, even if they couldn’t tell how. That wiggle room was what got people in trouble. Was I weaker? Stronger? Deadlier?
Too often, they bowed to their predatory instincts. They chose to test me, and then they paid the price.
“You’re so sweet.” I kissed his cheek. “Every girl dreams of being the monster under the bed.”
“I would prefer to be the monster in your bed.”
“You’re not a monster. You’re too cuddly for that.”
Which he proved after we gorged on fig and goat cheese pizza then passed out in a tangle of limbs.
10
Thanks to Clay’s brief obsession with home renovation shows, I decided the Laurie was a no-tell motel in another life. The seedy side of town was blossoming, its businesses either rehabbed or on their way. The result was trendy stores, trendy colors, and trendy people walking cracked sidewalks without a fresh can of pepper spray tucked into their palms or tasers hidden in their oversized bougie purses.
The Laurie itself was one story, an L shape, with a sparkling pool out front to attract roadside customers.
Part of me appreciated that these days, businesses owned by individuals could provide no-contact check-ins. It was quicker, easier to hide when you showed up with blood spatter, and less invasive.
Plus, a locker system allowed guests to receive mail, which meant we now had Asa’s new suits.
But, if the pattern held, whoever owned this place was likely responsible for summoning Old Man Fang. We needed to verify that. Quickly. Before Parish yanked us out of Tupelo as he had the previous towns.
This case was starting to feel more like a game of hot potato than an assignment.
“I’d like to touch base with Meg. See if she’s got the inside scoop on Old Man Fang.”
We found our room, let ourselves in, and I searched for anything that might hold water.
What I found was a petal-pink box with a chocolatier’s name stamped on the top.
“That looks pricey for a welcome gift.” I flipped the lid. “Do you think the previous guest forgot it?”
A grid of nine elegant compartments with handwritten labels informed me of the contents.
Champagne gummy bears, cold brew cordials, ganache hearts on top. Dark demitasse squares, raspberry crescents, praline stars filled the center. Chocolate lava cake, crème brûlée, and black forest cake truffles rounded out the bottom row.
Asa took one look, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Another gift from Father.”
“How can you tell?” I sniffed them. “They only smell chocolatey to me.”
“The chocolatier is a desirae daemon. He can imbue his products with those emotions. Father sends the altered treats to his future conquests to make them more open to his suggestions.”
“Let me make sure I understand this.” I slammed the lid shut. “He sent me roofied candy?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Yes.”
“Teach me how to return to sender?” I drew my wand, tapped the box top, and reduced its vile contents to melty goo. “This time, I want him to know for certain who’s rejecting him.”
“All right.” He forced his fingers open. “Flatten your palm above the object you wish to spurn.” He demonstrated, and his hand quivered with his fury. “Then speak these words.”
He enunciated them clearly in daemonish, and, being a witch, once was enough for me to commit them to memory. The power in my voice was also enough to activate the return to sender spell on the first try.
“That is super handy.” I walked into his embrace and placed his arms around me. “Thank you.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.” He fisted the back of my shirt. “Even if it requires a coronation to do it.”
“I know.” I kissed the spot over his heart. “Help me find a bowl?”
Asa cupped my face between his palms, lowered his mouth to mine, and accepted my reassurance his heart was the only one I craved.
Which, okay, a black witch—former black witch—admitting that would terrify rather than comfort most.
I let him break the kiss, breathe me in, and settle his nerves while I plotted his father’s eventual demise.
No child should grow up believing they were unlovable, that parts of them ought to remain hidden. They shouldn’t doubt their acceptance by their peers or conceal who they are to fit their parents’—or anyone else’s—idea of who they ought to be.
When he withdrew, he had fewer lines biting the corners of his mouth and tightening his eyes. I couldn’t tear down his wrong opinion of himself overnight, but I was willing to put in the work to renovate his confidence.
“Found the ice bucket.” Asa lifted what resembled a desktop trash can with a liner. “Will this do?”
Meg would pitch a hissy if she figured out I was summoning her in plastic, but she would have to deal.
After prying it from his tense fingers, I filled it with water. “I’ll make it work.”
Cross-legged on the bed, I sat with the ice bucket cradled between my thighs. A prick of my finger with my athame produced the drop of blood required for a dial tone to call my mother’s oldest friend.
“Megara, I summon thee.” More blood, more intent. “Megara, I summon thee.”
No surprise, she made me jump through flaming hoops before she deigned to answer. Business as usual.
“Thrice I bid thee.” Even more blood, even more intent. “And thrice I tithe thee.”
I ran a fingertip along the edge of the bucket, and the water rippled in dark eddies.
“Hear me,” I called in a resonate voice. “Arise.”
A face appeared wreathed in smoke, not from theatrics, but from the cigarette hanging from her bottom lip. Her makeup was smeared, and her lipstick was smudged across her chin. Her hair was tousled, and a feline grin told me she was downright proud of herself.
“Darling,” she answered, taking a long draw. “How can I help you?”
“I’m working a case, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions. If you’re not too busy.”
“Just finished up, actually.” Her smile grew sharp. “Ask away, but it will cost you.”
Her consultation fee went toward providing for the pack she had left behind, so I didn’t mind the bill.
“No problem,” I assured her. “Transfer incoming.”
“Then I’m at your disposal.” She leaned forward, fingers steepled. “You need legal advice?”
“I need lore advice.” I debated how to break it to her but decided she liked it straight. “Old Man Fang has been resurrected. Kind of? We’re waffling on the lingo. He was summoned, and he made his first kill tonight. Can you tell us where he was buried? I’m hoping the daemon can track his scent from there, give us some idea who took his bones.”
A temper I had only ever seen provoked by mention of my parents’ deaths cut a snarl across her face.
“They. Did. What?”
“He’s the latest in a string of old boogeymen that have risen and begun killing innocents.”
“The only ones who knew where he was kept were pack. Even then, only his direct descendants were told.” She took a calming breath. “Whoever did this has a familial warg contact, one who knew the exact location of his ancestors’ burial grounds.” A growl pumped through her chest. “I’ll contact the head of the family. They’ll be in touch after they’ve questioned their own people.” Her eyes glowed. “And dearest? There’s no charge for this. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
“We appreciate any help you can give us,” Asa assured her, “and we’ll be paying that fee.”
Her anger dropped a notch, and she nodded at Asa. “You found one of the good ones, Rue.”
