“We believe in you, Shorty,” Clay threw in too. “We know now any buildup can be spent in a burst.”
With her in control, I wouldn’t be left to cook. Worst case scenario, I could hobble over to the hotel and expel a blast where the damage was already done.
Straightening her wings, she shook off her doubts. “Okay.”
Colby glided from Clay’s head onto my chest, retaining her small form to keep the pressure on me at a minimum. Eyes squished closed, she began to glow, her magic humming in a soothing cadence. She let her power seep into me, the same as we had done to Asa, and light blasted from my pores, turning the inside of the SUV into a miraculous disco.
This time, as her magic peaked, I experienced no pain. Quite the opposite. She was healing me, and my body melted into a puddle of radiant goo as the agony within me tapered to a bearable twinge and then into nothing.
“Thanks,” I slurred, my throat parched but unhurt. “I’m just gonna…”
The lights went out, and I fell deep into a healing sleep.
17
“Morning, Dollface.”
The smell of hot coffee and fresh donuts hit my nose, and I cranked open my eyes. “Food.”
Clay snorted then sat beside me on the bed in yet another hotel room. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry.” I made grabby hands at his offerings. “Feed me.”
A rumbling noise poured into the hall behind him, and a flicker of hesitation crossed his features.
Holding up a finger, he said, “Be right back.”
Faster than a speeding bullet, he bolted out of the room, taking my reasons for living with him.
“The food,” I called after him. “Bring it back.”
“It’s back.” Asa entered the room, hands full, and kicked the door shut behind him. “Good morning.”
“Before you ask how I’m feeling,” I cut in, “I demand you hand over the coffee and the donuts.”
“You might want to sit up first.” He stood over me, smelling better than any man had a right to, and I don’t mean the food in his hands. Though that was amazing too. “Unless you plan on absorbing the caffeine through your skin after you dump it down your shirt.”
“I like you better when you play the strong, silent type.” I sat up with a grunt. “Now gimme.”
That was a total and complete lie. I hated how he shrank into himself for others’ comfort, but I was getting hangry. Food now. Lectures about him accepting himself later. As if I had any room to talk.
“There’s your milk.” He passed me a mug and a large dinner plate piled high. “There are your donuts.”
“Milk?” I perked and took a sip. “Aww.” I set the drink aside. “Clay even warmed it.”
The coffee must have been Asa’s usual breakfast brew. Served black, I was sure.
“No, that was Colby.”
“Oh Goddess. Are we dead? We are, aren’t we? She used the microwave and blew us to smithereens.”
“Clay supervised.” A soft laugh huffed out of him. “Does this mean your ideal afterlife includes me?”
“If black witches had afterlives, and we don’t, I wouldn’t be offended by the scenery.” I wiggled my toes. “Are you going to sit or just stand over me like a creeper?”
“I didn’t want to presume.” He sat with a contented smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Curious.”
Arching an eyebrow, he awarded me his full attention. “Oh?”
“Vanessa.”
“She gave me her number, but I never called her, as you heard.”
“Not that.” I shoved a cakey pumpkin spice donut with thick glaze into my mouth. “That’s fine.”
“That’s…fine?” A line bisected his brow. “You don’t mind if other women proposition me?”
“That was in the past, so not really my business. Plus, she’s dead.” I chugged my milk. “I win.”
“You win indeed.” His shoulders shook with laughter. “So, what was your question?”
“Her hand.” I crammed a blueberry donut in my mouth. “It just like, I don’t know, popped off her wrist.”
Camber and Arden would have squealed with delight at the fountain of spraying blood. Except for the fact it was, you know, real.
“Not quite.” His lips pulled to one side. “A y’nai was responsible. They’re too fast for me to see when they attack. That’s why Father chose them to shadow me. I have to focus, and even then, I hear and smell them more than see them.”
“That’s not comforting.” I bit into my third donut, a classic glazed one, having no regrets. “How did it know so quickly?”
“They can glamour themselves invisible,” he continued adding to my nightmare fodder. “It must have been in the room to act without hesitation directly after the infraction.”
“Yeah. No.” I shuddered. “Invisible hand-chopper-offers don’t need to be in my space.”
“They can’t harm you.”
“That doesn’t make it any less creepy.” I bit into my fourth donut then passed him the rest. “Seriously.”
With chit-chat out of the way, and his territorial urges sated, I asked the hard question. “How is Colby?”
“Her hands were healed in the process of helping you. There’s not so much as a smudge on them.”
Had her magic taken it upon itself to repair the damage? Was this yet another facet of our unique bond? Or had the book stuck its nose where it didn’t belong with a seemingly harmless suggestion Colby took?
With the grimoire forefront in my mind, I hated to ask, “How is she bookwise?”
“We’ve caught her talking to herself once or twice, but she claims she was praying.”
“I’ve never known her to pray,” I mused, “but then she’s never hurt me like that either.”
“It could be guilt,” he agreed, sounding unconvinced. “Or the book. It was in bed with her when I woke.”
Milk gushed out my nose, cementing my title as sexiest woman alive, and I almost coughed up a lung.
“She slept with it?” I used my comforter to wipe my face. “Tell me she didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I locked it in the hotel safe before I went to sleep. Its aura bothers me less than it does Clay. That’s why he brought you breakfast. I was returning the book to the safe after its little adventure.” He cut his eyes toward me. “Colby screamed when she woke up, that’s how I knew to go to her. She couldn’t get out of her room fast enough.”
“That book has to be my top priority when I get home.”
“I agree.”
“How did the hotel fare?”
“The center of the building caved in, and there’s extensive smoke damage to the rest. The fire department is blaming it on bad wiring.”
“Did anyone die?”
“No one was there.”
A vague memory of him telling me that surfaced, but I had been in too much pain to care at the time.
“The lot was full.” I folded my legs under me. “How were all the rooms empty?”
Then it hit me. Those congo zombies had to come from somewhere. From our hotel and its staff, apparently.
“There were several hotels.” I chewed my bottom lip. “How did Melissa know we’d pick that one?”
“Colby did her research, using Clay’s parameters. Melissa couldn’t know we would choose the one she selected, but she must have figured her chances were good. She ticked all the boxes. Clay or I would have chosen the same one based on the information available on the other three hotels. And, there’s also the fact she knew Clay, intimately, meaning they’ve spent some time together at hotels.”
Black Hats rarely liaised at their own homes. Few bothered with them. Most used hotels as apartments.
On that depressing note, I hoped for good news on some front. “Did the backup make it safely?”
“They’re at the hotel. Three teams. A fourth is en route.” He paused. “There were a lot of bodies.”
That sparked an excellent question. “Where
are we?”
“At the hotel nearest our previous one. I checked us in and kept watch over you and Colby while Clay waited for the cavalry to arrive.”
Alrighty then, so maybe I shouldn’t use the word spark in context to our room, even in my head. “Where does that leave us?”
“Our job here is done.” He smiled at my surprise. “We followed our orders to the letter.”
But the case was far from closed, and we both knew it. The Proctor grimoire had a following, apparently.
“We hunted the zombigo, put it down.” He laid it out as he would in our report. “Access to the body allowed us to confirm it was a reanimated corpse. We tracked down its maker, a black witch, and the confrontation ended with her death, as well as that of her cohorts, and their creations.”
Neat and tidy, on paper, but the director would expect a full accounting. “What’s the official line?”
“Melissa arranged a coup, which happens every few decades, and she failed.”
“And if the director asks why an entire team went rogue?”
“Then we tell him the truth, but not everything. They wanted more power, and to be free.”
“The fae in you pops up at the most unexpected times.” I don’t know why I did it, but I tore off a piece of donut and tossed it at him, laughing when he caught it in his mouth. “It sounds like you’ve got it figured out.”
“Not all of it.” He caught another piece, cementing my new favorite game. “We still need to determine what Nolan Laurens was doing at your house.”
Last I checked, he was still there, camped out on my land like he had a right to be there.
“Agreed.” I cackled with glee when he caught another. “That’s a problem for Samford.”
A quick review of my cameras proved Nolan hadn’t budged an inch since the last time I looked in on him.
Sadly, that meant I was holding my cell when a notification flashed to warn me the director was calling.
Enjoy your all-expenses-paid vacation straight to my voicemail, Gramps.
“You’re not worried he’s a zombie too?”
“Zombies don’t howl and clutch their butts when they get shot. He’s alive. Maybe a masque, but alive.”
David Taylor had worn other people’s faces to conceal his identity, meaning Nolan might not be Nolan. He might be another member of the rogue coven, one who got stationed at my home to hedge their bets.
All the same, I prayed to the gods and goddesses that had forsaken me that Nolan was himself. That there was a reasonable explanation for his actions, and an association with me wasn’t about to cost the girls more than they had already paid for their friendship with me.
“We’re almost done here.” He stole the donut, pinched off a bite, and tossed it at me. “Maybe four more hours, and this case will be officially closed.” He chuckled when I missed. “We can go home.”
Home.
The emphasis on the word caused me to miss his second throw too, though, let’s be honest. I wasn’t going to catch it. I was never going to be one of those people who could toss popcorn in the air and ring their open mouth with it. Donuts appeared to be doomed to the same fate.
Careful not to place any emphasis on the word, I dusted crumbs out of my hair. “Home?”
“Samford for you.” He rolled a shoulder. “A hotel for us.”
“You could always stay with me. Us. You and Clay,” I blurted, then cursed my impulsivity. “If you want.”
“You wouldn’t mind having two houseguests underfoot?”
“Clay is like a brother to me, and you’re…” I dusted off my shirt. “You’re you.”
“I’ll ask him.” Asa shifted his attention to the door. “We ought to have a week off, after working two cases back-to-back. That’s in the regs.”
“You would be there for Thanksgiving,” I realized, delight winging through me. “Clay could help me cook a full spread.” It had been years since I bothered. I usually joined the girls with their parents and brought dessert in trade. “He can make me corn fritters.” I kicked my feet and squealed. “I always screw up those.”
The door burst open, and the golem in question stuck his head in the door. “Everything okay in here?”
His gaze traveled over me, the empty plate, and the bedful of crumbs.
“Pretend I didn’t ask.” He eased the door almost shut. “I don’t want to know.”
“Wait.” I swung my legs over the bed. “Asa said you’re off for a week as soon as the paperwork clears.”
“Hopefully.” He nudged it back open. “You know how that goes.”
Sometimes, the regs were the absolute law in Black Hat. Other times, they were more of a guideline.
“Will you stay with Colby and me?” I knotted my fingers in my lap. “It’s Thanksgiving, and you’re…” my throat got tight, “…you’re family.”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his jaw. “I had plans to binge The Essence of Emeril and fantasize about his Cajun-injected spicy turkey with grilled polenta, balsamic roasted carrots, andouille cornbread dressing, and fig mille-feuille with balsamic drizzle.” He struck a thoughtful pose. “Do I want to eat actual food instead of licking my phone’s screen and crying inside?”
“Yes.” Colby bulldozed into the back of his head, knocking him forward a step with the force of her hug. “Please, Clay. Will you stay? I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise. You can sleep on the rock in my room.”
“A rock of my very own?” He patted her back, ruffling his blond buzzcut. “How can I refuse an offer like that?”
Chances were good he knew the rock was a gray beanbag, but I wasn’t going to ruin her fun.
“Ace?” Clay checked with his partner. “What do you think?”
The daemon burst from his skin in a lick of flame and scooped me off the bed into his arms.
“Stay with Rue.” He turned his head so that his hair slid over his shoulder. “Rue pet.”
“I can see from your expression,” Clay said smugly, “that you didn’t think your invitation through.”
The daemon wilted on the spot, a question in his eyes, and I sensed the disappointment in him.
Twirling a lock of the daemon’s hair around my finger, I couldn’t hurt his feelings. “Sure, I did.”
Teeth bared in a huge grin, the daemon flashed his thick fangs at Clay in a clear I told you so.
“If I’m going to move into production,” I told him, “I need a test subject for my haircare line.”
That got the daemon’s attention. “Rue brush hair?”
“Brush, wash, comb, braid. All of it. If you let me use you to test my new products.”
A growl pumped through his chest. “I like Thanksgiving.”
Smothering a laugh, I began to explain. “Thanksgiving is—”
“Brush, wash, comb, braid.” He dumped more hair in my lap. “All of it.”
“Close enough.” I patted his shoulder. “Can you put me down now?”
His grip tightened before it loosened, but he grumbled then placed me back on the bed.
“I’m starting to see what you mean.” Clay frowned at his partner. “The daemon is…different…with you.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched Asa reclaim control. The absence of shirt didn’t bother me one bit.
“The daemon wants to ensure Rue cares for him too.” Asa proved he’d heard the tail end of our conversation. “He’s more likely to assume control without warning during the fascination.”
“You’re doing it too.” Clay tilted his head to one side. “Referring to your other form as another person.”
A faint smile twitched in his cheek. “Am I?”
His nonanswer only served to make me more curious about him. Fascination was a good word for it. My thirst for all things Asa was only growing as we spent more time together. I would have cracked open his skull and peeked at his brain to learn all his secrets. If that was a thing. And if it wouldn’t kill him. It was this side of creepy too. Best keep that thought to
myself.
Clearly, I had spent too much time around zombies to have brains on the, well, brain.
“They’re so weird.” Colby twitched her wings. “Do all grownups act that strange when they’re dating?”
“Yes.” Clay backed from the room. “You got it right, staying a kid. I would go back in time if I could, and I was never a child. I would just like to erase some of the things I learned as I got old.”
Only the tightness in his lips hinted there were other things he would like to undo. He was such a good man. The best. But he was at his master’s disposal. Always. When he was ordered to act, no matter the atrocity, he had no choice but to commit it. To fight it was impossible. The magic animating him would seize control of his body and force him to fulfill the order to the letter. I had seen it for myself.
“I bet there’s a spell for that,” Colby said thoughtfully as they left. “We should Google.”
Alone with Asa, I couldn’t stop my pulse from skipping at his proximity.
“I need to touch base with the girls,” I said, “let them know I’m coming home.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“They expect me to obsess over the shop details,” I reasoned, “and Nolan is supposed to be in Africa.”
“Are you certain the girls don’t know?” He kept his tone neutral. “That they don’t remember?”
The details of the night they were abducted had been blurred enough for them to heal. Their trauma stemmed more from the fear they were forgetting details than what they recalled. It was the lesser of two evils, I knew that, but it was horrible to cause them to doubt, to wonder, to dread.
“I trust them.” I gathered clean clothes. “They would come to me with any concerns.”
Jaw tight, he let it go. I could tell he didn’t want to, but I couldn’t entertain the possibility I would lose two members of my makeshift coven.
No.
They were more than that.
Much more.
Like Clay, they were family.
“All right.” He mulled it over. “We’ll confront Nolan, see what he has to say for himself.”
Black Arts, White Craft (Black Hat Bureau Book 2) Page 20