by Lexi Ostrow
Simultaneously, four heads nodded.
“Good. I’ve taken a step that would likely have me executed if it reached many people.” Remy ran a hand over his forehead. “If I am successful, a hurricane will hit New Orleans in a short time. There will be no warning, it is not a weather pattern. It is a hex that two casters will bring upon the city and surrounding areas against their will.”
“You’re going to drown an entire city?” Adelaide snarled and took a step back. “That’s disgusting.”
“No!” Remy’s hands clenched. “It’s what needs to be done. The city comes back strong after tragedy, the whole country does. People will come together, and the killing will stop.”
“Until they forget.” Steven’s face was scrunched together with disgust. “I’m not unaccustomed to this situation.” He waved his arm. “I was alive during slavery.” He sneered, his lip remained pulled back even after the growl was done. “It doesn’t last. You’d rather kill hundreds of thousands of people – destroy your city – to stop the indiscriminate kills for what, five years? Less in today’s social media driven world.”
“It will work.”
“Why? Because once it’s done you’ll step forward and brag?” His uncle’s shoulder sagged. “You’re the smart one here, and you don’t see the flaw. This isn’t a step forward or help. This is revenge.”
“And what if it is?” Anger flowed molten hot through Remy’s veins, threatening to trigger his shift.
“Then, it’s not something we will take part in.” Steven pulled a vial from his pocket. “I wish you luck, but do not come near my parts. I do not respect people who seek mass death.” He smashed the glass at his feet, the smoke pluming up in a furious green cloud.
The proverbial dust still lingered when Andrea cleared her throat. “I too do not wish to seek out such a hex in my state or city. We have issues, but murdering innocent to remove a few is not the course. I wish you luck in escaping capture, you seem a caring alpha.” Unlike Steven, Andrea pivoted and walked toward a small red sedan, pulled open the door, and got in.
“Well, are you two going to condemn me?”
“I will not out of respect for our lives together – for a time when we shared a childhood. Beyond that, do not seek out favors in Baton Rouge. My city is closed to you and your congregation. My ride home offer still stands as dating your sister in debts me to her every so often, but that too will pass now that this is afoot as I assume she agreed.”
“My sister agrees with this.”
Adelaide’s lip curled. “Then I must rescind my offer. Find your own way home, and I’ll pray whatever you’ve done to those two poor souls doesn’t destroy them.”
Her heels clicked on the cement. Adelaide’s response didn’t surprise him. She was a lawyer and a dam good one, but she still saw the best in people.
“Well, Uncle Louis? Ready to attack me, too?”
A smirk curved over his lips. “Well, we’d best call someone – Shreveport isn’t a close walk, and I don’t have another potion.”
Remy cocked his head to the side. “You’re not against this?”
“For once, I agree with you. If this works out for you, I assume I’ll have to start raising a pretty penny to get the same hex.”
“You agree with me?”
“I agree it’s high time some people remembered their place. I don’t think you need to kill ‘em, but a disaster will work just fine. One where fingers can’t point back to anyone else and cause a stir.”
Remy blinked as his uncle pulled out a phone. He and his uncle saw eye-to-eye on very little. So you’re right in your path. People must die for sin to be cleansed. You’re saving your people. Everyone else be damned.
Seventeen
“You think it’s him, don’t you?” Jonathon’s gaze bore into Deidre’s as he pulled two rocks glasses down from the cabinet next to the sink.
“I think it has to be.”
They’d not spoken on the drive home. His silence made sense. He was a cop who hit a dead end. Deidre assumed he needed the quiet to think. The last thing she’d expected was that Jonathon would turn around and drive back to the city. She figured they’d hang around, only appearing to leave.
“He’s a dick. He is, but he’s doing what all alpha’s do. He might have fifty weregators making their first shift during the full moon this month.”
“You don’t think it’s suspicious he vanishes up that right now?”
“I think it’s suspicious as fuck, but I think it also makes perfect sense. He filed complaints against people hunting his congregation – some accidentally, some intentionally. If he’s got a load of young ones shifting, the last thing he would want to do is let them undergo their first shift where it’s dangerous for them.”
“Because shifters can’t control themselves the first time.”
“Exactly. Drink?” He grabbed a bottle of Jack off the counter, the same one she’d noticed he eyed each time they failed, but never touched.
“I’ll have what you’re having. Not my thing, but hey, not much is right now.”
“Your drink, my lady.” Jonathon passed her the glass and the bottle.
“You’re not even going to pour it for me?”
“And risk upsetting the feminist I now know lives deep within you?” He gave his head a shake. “Not a chance in hell. Deidre Adams can do shit for herself, and I’ll only step in if you’re in trouble.”
She smirked. “I can. I think I forgot that for a few months. Anoixe.” The cork popped out, falling harmlessly to the floor. “I don’t ever want to associate anything good with this mess,” she tipped the bottle slowly. “But remembering that I am a witch to be bargained with was needed. I lost myself. I don’t even know how that’s possible.”
Jonathon snagged the bottle and poured it quickly. “Your husband was murdered. Your best friends were busy with their new families. It makes perfect sense to me how you got lost. You had no one to turn to because you didn’t want to ruin someone else’s happiness.”
A few weeks ago, Deidre might have pulled away at a comment like that from him, not now. Now he understood her better than anyone except Gerard had. No one else had lived with her over all the centuries.
“Who did you lose?”
He took a small sip. “No one.”
“No one?” Her voice was shrill with shock.
“Not a damn soul. Great mom and dad. I don’t come from a loaded family, but it’s pretty damn perfect.”
“So, how do you know what I was feeling?”
“You don’t have to lose someone to understand what being on the outside looking in his like. It’s been my lifestyle since I moved down here.”
“Because you want it to be.” She tossed back a good portion of the glass, ignoring the unpleasant burn on the way down.
“Maybe I did.”
“Did. Past tense?”
He nodded. “It’s hard to stay removed when there’s a crazy werepanther trying to sleep with you or hook you up every five minutes.”
She spit the sip of whiskey out, spraying the kitchen table. “That is the most accurate description of Jay I think I’ve ever heard, and I haven’t even seen him in a few months to be harassed by him.”
“Harass. Not too far off, but Jay means well.”
Deidre moved her hand over her lips, wiping away the alcohol. “He means the world. I guess I never realized how good he is at making people feel at home.”
“I wouldn’t say at home. I’d say bombarded and worn out. Lita and Sam, they’ve made me feel pretty at home.”
“A little birdie tells me Sam hated you for a bit.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say he hated me, but he sure as shit made working together tough. I was lucky if he’d look at me. Then I made the mistake of proposing to Lita, and I swear if he hadn’t been a cop, he would have beaten me to a bloody pulp.”
“I, for one, am glad you did.” She forced the rest of the whiskey down and beckoned for the glass. When Deidre clos
ed her eyes, Remy’s face spawned, and she quickly opened her eyes. “Lita was miserable without him even if she wouldn’t mention it. I know thanks to a spell he wasn’t, but she was awful to be around sometimes. She’d rant about him and then remember she wasn’t supposed to care and stalk off.”
“Good thing I got him to that circle on time.” Jonathon ran a hand over his chin. “I almost didn’t, but even someone as withdrawn as I am couldn’t help but notice they belonged together.”
He smiled, and Deidre couldn’t help but notice the way her heart picked up just a tick when he looked at her with that smile on his lips. Handsome didn’t cover it. He could have any woman he wanted – and she knew he wanted women – but the only thing that seemed to matter to him was his job.
And you’ll be nothing once the hex is over. Skip the lust, shove down the attraction, and talk about what matters.
“If it’s not Remy, how do we get into the eagle's nest?”
“God, what a way to change the subject.” He coughed. “You accused me of bailing earlier, or wait, shutting you out. Pot, meet kettle.”
“I just want this hex gone. I want to sit here and possibly drink awful alcohol with you because you’ve asked me to, not because it’s some new normal that we come home and have a drink because we’re stuck together.”
The brown is his eyes seemed to smolder a shade darker.
“Is that still something you want then?”
She swallowed, noticing the flutter of her heart in her chest. Jonathon Trevors made her flush. He was young and insightful and made her feel like she mattered all while still being so focused on work, he barely looked at her.
“I would. If I thought you’d pause for a minute in your ridiculously ambitious hunt to leave this city behind.”
“Maybe I don’t need to leave right away.” His hand covered hers, but he didn’t hold it. “Deidre, you’re so much more than the woman I thought I met back at Lita and Sam’s wedding.”
“So you keep saying.” He’d meant it as a compliment, but all it served to do was remind her she’d lost herself. She’d let grief drag her under and drown her until she’d been barely recognizable. “You think this situation changed me?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “I think being around another person, one who didn’t expect anything from you, allowed you to remember who you are. I think getting stuck in a horrible situation forced you to decide if you wanted to live or die.”
It was her turn to say nothing as she tipped the glass back and finished the entire thing in one gulp. The burn brought a sting to her nose, but Deidre shook her head and poured another.
They started drinking to bury their failure, but all it did was continue to conjure an image of Remy in her mind each time they stopped talking.
“It’s Remy, Jonathon. I know you want to believe he’s just disgruntled and not a killer, but I’m telling you, it’s him.”
He didn’t speak. Whether he believed her or not, she couldn’t tell. The intensity in his gaze from moments before vanished, and he seemed to search her eyes for some shred of drunkenness leading her to make the claim.
“If you’re right, we can’t do anything until he gets back down here.” Jonathon growled, and the sound of splintering glass filled the room. “Damn it!” With a snarl, he jumped up and went to the kitchen drawer she knew held his cleaning potions.
When he got to the couch and tapped out a small drop onto the sofa, she wasn’t even surprised to see the tiny drops of blood on his hand. The stain lifted from the couch, dissolving in the air even as the shattered bits of the glass reformed into an unblemished glass on the coffee table.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Leave it then.” The air crackled with his anger. “We can’t even take this guy down because not even Sam will take me at a ‘just trust me’ request for a backup report.”
“You believe me?”
“I believe that it smells fishy. Too many attacks against his kind and by his kind in such a short span don’t spell good things. Who else could want to do this? Whether Remy running up the bayou was innocent or not, he has to be the one we need to take down – we just need to find him.” His eyes squeezed shut, the tension wrinkling his face at his temples. “And I wiped their fucking memories so they can’t even be brought in and questioned.”
Deidre bit her lip but didn’t move closer to him. They’d never spoken about the angel and demon dealers beyond that one moment, but he wasn’t wrong.
“Is this smart?” Deidre swirled the amber liquid around in the glass, looking down into it as if she searched for her soul.
“I don’t think that matters.” Jonathon nearly snarled, his lips curling back as he spoke. His glass tipped against his lips, and Jonathon didn’t lift it until he’d consumed every last drop of the Jack Daniels.
Still, Deidre didn’t drink, merely swirled the liquid around in the glass. “What if the next portion of the hex takes control while we’re drinking?”
“Then maybe we won’t be useful enough to cast what needs to be done. Maybe us drinking will save the city.” His hand was already wrapping around the neck of the bottle. “Besides, when is the last time you let off some steam?”
Not counting that kiss in the car? “A few days before this mess started.”
He snorted, and a small drop of the alcohol flew from the drink from the air.
Lifting a brow, Deidre tipped the glass to her lips and cringed at the almost acetone-like taste. Jack Daniels wasn’t her drink of choice. “What was that about?” clicking her tongue, she winced and set the glass down.
“I can’t remember the last time I blew off steam.”
Deidre rolled her eyes. “You’re not all work, Jonathon. I can see that just from the last few weeks.”
“You’re right,” he lifted the glass to his mouth, wrapped his lips almost seductively around the edge of the glass, but didn’t take a sip. Instead, his hand dropped a bit, leveling his hand near his chest. “Too bad, I can’t remember having a damn day off since Vexx hexed Lita.”
She blinked, focusing on the situation and not the way a blackness crept around her vision. Vexx’s name echoed as if Jonathon spoke it into a mic. Her eyes fluttered shut, and Deidre sucked in a breath of air through her nose.
“Dee?” Jonathon’s hand clasped over hers. “Deidre.” He squeezed.
Some of the blackness retreated, revealing a tightness in her chest she hadn’t focused on prior. A vice constricted her chest, trying to draw her breasts together and press the air from her lungs.
“Panic attacks.” She swallowed hard, searching her mind for a calming incantation and coming up blank as the thought of Victor Vexx controlling her world from beyond the grave weighed on her. “He never even knew me, and he’s attacking me in his death.”
“Dee, I’m sorry,” Jonathon tugged her against him, holding her as if he’d done this hundreds of times before. His hand stroked over her hair, snagging once in the curls before he seemed to learn how to drag his hand through them.
His lips pressed against the top of her head, and she focused – found the word she needed.
“Iremía.” Jonathon’s rich voice washed over her, cuddling her as effortlessly as his arms did.
Deidre sucked in a breath of air. Nothing seemed to clamp against her chest anymore.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“No? I think I did. I just told you I wouldn’t help unless you needed it. Besides, you cast it once for me already, consider it paying back the favor.” The words rumbled in his chest, vibrating pleasantly where her head lay on it.
“Is that why you did it?” She looked up at him, her heart beating rapidly for a different reason now.
“No,” the word left him in a rush as he leaned forward.
His mouth pressed against hers, and Deidre tasted the whiskey on his lips. The potent alcohol seemed almost sweet as she flicked her tongue out over her lips. The pressure of the world melted away as his hand traced a p
ath down her arm, stopping at her waist before tugging her against him.
She smelled the harshness of the alcohol she hated, but also a woodsy undertone, that drew a sigh from her.
Jonathon’s tongue slipped between her parted lips on the sigh, and she lost herself. He was gentle and demanding all at once. Jonathon pushed, and she gave, relishing in the way a slight buzz moved through her body with his touch.
The glass of Jack slipped from her hand, shattering against the coffee table as his did moments before.
“Leave it. Casters, remember?” He nipped at her lower lip even as he leaned forward, urging her to lay back against the couch.
The way he disregarded the mess shouldn’t have been utterly delicious, but it was. Kissing her was more important than order to him. Deidre knew the rush of warmth passing through her wasn’t just the slight buzz from too many drinks.
Heat traveled over her, starting where he touched and blossoming out over her entire body.
The hand on her waist inched over her body as it pushed her shirt up and splayed across her stomach. Jonathon’s touch was warm enough to draw her out of the kiss, out of the swirling pleasure that started to stop all thoughts of anything except the young warlock.
“Jonathon, stop.”
He didn’t growl like so many men did. His face twisted into a grimace, his warm hand lay tauntingly close to where she’d known it would have landed if she’d not stopped them.
“Not like this. Not drunk and angry at the bastard who’s controlling us. I don’t want it to be that way. Not now.”
He gave a muffled snort and sat back up.
The air conditioner hadn’t even seemed to work a minute ago, and now the cold air was like an icy touch across her body.
“I get it. Your incredible ability to look at situations and see the logic is one of the things I think I’m falling for most. You shouldn’t be as insightful as you are, but you.”
“Age does that. I’m not a cop. The wheels in my head don’t spin around the same as yours, but I’ve been around enough to know that giving into feelings when you’re drunk doesn’t do anything. You either don’t remember it the next day or blame the alcohol.”