by Shona Husk
Help me. But the words never formed. The plea remained stuck in her head, and no matter what she did it was trapped. She was trapped in her own body, unable to do anything to aid her own escape from the evil that was Thomas Quigley.
“I need to talk to you.” Oskar stood in the doorway. He’d been watching Mason go through a complicated series of karate moves. The kata looked beautiful and was one way above him, but Mason had made it look easy. He made everything look as easy as if being a witch was a natural state, not something that had to be worked at.
Mason beckoned him into the large room they trained in. Oskar bowed and toed off his shoes, then decided he’d better take his socks off, too, since Mason was still on the mats and wasn’t walking over to talk. If he wanted to talk to Mason, he had to step onto the mats. And stepping onto the mats meant he had to be ready to fight.
“Is this about your misappropriation of company time to research your great uncle?” Mason watched him, looking for a lie or a denial. To do either would be stupid. Mason hadn’t gotten this far by being kind and forgiving. On the other hand, only one witch had been killed in the last five years, and the Uncommon Raven Agency, which employed many coven members, was doing well, so whatever Mason was doing was working.
“It could be.” Oskar stood opposite the man who’d kept him from going off the rails as a young teen, and who’d brought him into the coven at eighteen. He was also the man who wouldn’t fully initiate him despite nearly twelve years of loyal service to the coven and the Morrigu. He was an outsider and it wasn’t from anything he’d done—that he could have accepted.
Mason bowed and the sinking sensation that Oskar was about to get his ass kicked into next week grew. He couldn’t afford to lose a week.
Oskar returned the bow and the bone bracelet around his wrist gave a hollow clink. “I’m not dressed for fighting.” Jeans and a t-shirt—it could’ve been worse, at least he didn’t favor the skinny jeans that were in fashion.
“A warrior is always dressed to fight.”
Great. Mason was in one of those moods. Quiet and deadly with no trace of humor. Last time they’d crossed paths like this, Oskar had been banned from using magic for three months. It wasn’t that Mason hated him, he just didn’t trust him. The Quigley bloodline had turned bad about a century ago. Hell, half the time Oskar wasn’t sure he trusted himself. But he worked hard, harder than some of the others, to prove he was worthy.
Oskar raised his hands, his fingers loosely curled. The mats were cool and firm beneath his feet. Familiar. He was going to miss this place. With only a few months until the death curse took his life, there were things he needed to do.
He needed to tell Mason he was resigning. It wasn’t as though the coven would miss him, they’d probably be glad to see him go. He caught his thoughts before they turned black. He had friends, and the people he trusted were here, even if that trust didn’t always flow back. The coven was his default family.
“What do you want to say?” Mason threw a couple of quick punches that Oskar barely sidestepped and blocked. Mason was just too damn fast.
“I quit.” Again Oskar defended, but didn’t attack. He didn’t get a chance as Mason kept him dancing, but Mason was only testing. If Mason had wanted, he could have put him on the mats already.
“You’ve got three months until the Morrigu claims you.” Mason caught Oskar’s wrist. To avoid getting it broken, he threw himself over Mason’s arm, rolled, and came back up. Mason was waiting with a kick that came very close to clipping his jaw.
Oskar slid under Mason’s guard, hoping to at least get one good strike in. “I’m not going to sit and wait for Her to come.”
“You’re going after your uncle.”
“Great-great-great uncle.” They weren’t that closely related. The only thing they had in common was the curse. Thomas, his uncle, had pissed the Morrigu off plenty, not that She wanted Thomas’s soul anymore. He was no warrior, but a coward afraid of death. As punishment for Thomas’s actions, all the Quigley men died at thirty. It was a bitch of a curse and not an easy thing to live with. There was nothing nice about knowing the day his life would end. “You’d do the same.”
Mason didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Oskar could see the concern etched in the lines between Mason’s eyebrows and in the thin press of his lips. He’d expected Mason to try and talk him out of it. One mistimed kick and Oskar was swept onto his back. Before he could get up, Mason was on him, pinning him to the mats. “You think you’re ready to take on a witch of that strength?”
They grappled, the fight moving from controlled technique to rough and dirty. “Do I have a choice? I can’t ask any of you to join me. Too many have already died trying to right his wrong.” An entire coven had been wiped out sixty years ago. But that wasn’t all. There was a pattern to the other deaths—or disappearances as they were called. Unsolved cases, missing men, none of whom had any connections to other covens that Oskar could find.
“You want to die sooner?” Mason gripped the front of Oskar’s shirt as if he could shake sense into him. Put that way it sounded a little insane.
“I don’t fear death. It’s coming for me anyway.” He’d known since he was fifteen that he was going to die like his father. Midnight on his thirtieth birthday. He’d been told why. At first he’d pleaded, begged the Goddess for trials and quests to prove he wasn’t the same, but it had all been in vain. Eighty-nine days to go. Some people might pack their bags and go to Thailand. Others take out a loan and live big in Vegas. He intended to meet the Morrigu head on and prove he would go down swinging right to the end.
“And the Morrigu?” Mason raised an eyebrow. The fight was now over. Mason would let him walk away if their Goddess was in agreement, but Oskar still couldn’t lie to Mason, not totally anyway.
“She is silent on the matter.” Well, not entirely. But since She could only invade his dreams unless he actively sought Her out, he’d been choosing to ignore them. Ignoring the Goddess he was sworn to serve probably wouldn’t end well, but shit, really, how much worse could things get?
Mason released him and stood. After a pause he offered Oskar a hand, which he accepted. “Your mind is made up.”
Oskar nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He’d rather live a long life, have a wife and children, but he wouldn’t allow himself either. He didn’t want to pass the curse on. He’d seen too many cousins die. While the Morrigu only required the service of the youngest son, She’d been so incensed by Thomas’s misuse of magic that all Quigley men wore the death curse, not just the witches. He had nephews that would die before they’d hit their stride. Before they ever had a chance to leave their mark.
When he’d die, no one would give a damn. His father had died when he was three, because of the curse, his mother when he was seventeen, because of cancer. The coven might pause for a moment, they’d have to find someone else to do their research and background work.
Oskar took a breath and looked Mason in the eye. “I’d like to be fully initiated before I go.”
“No.”
“Damn it. I have spent my life working for Her and the coven, you could at least grant me full rank and privilege before I die.”
“When you die you get full rank and privilege. I will not hand you that power when, by your own admission, you are going to see Thomas.”
“And if I live?” The odds of that happening were small, but a chance was still a chance and it was better than the alternative. He couldn’t lie down and accept his fate.
“Live naturally or join him?”
“When I kill him.” There was only one way to end the death curse, but killing a hundred-year-old witch who was using death magic to stay alive wasn’t going to be easy. If it was, people wouldn’t have died trying. But he had a plan. One that sucked and put him in Thomas’s hands, but he needed to get close since he couldn’t beat him with magic.
“If you kill him, you will get full admittance. The first Quigley in one hundred years.” Mason st
epped back and bowed. The conversation was over. “Put your resignation letter on my desk. Of course, if you live, you can have your job back.”
Oskar snorted, he wasn’t even thinking that far ahead. He couldn’t. There was too much that could happen between now and his thirtieth birthday.
“Thanks.” He couldn’t erase the sarcasm from his voice.
“You’ve put everything you have into training, both as a warrior and a witch. You’ve been an asset in the office, but I will not breach the restriction put on your bloodline by the Morrigu.”
His eyebrows jerked up. He hadn’t realized it was a direct order from Her. Did She realize She was hampering the people who wanted Thomas’s work undone? Probably, but She was a vindictive bitch at times so She probably didn’t care. Of all the Gods and Goddesses out there, he’d had to have been born into a family that was bound to serve the Morrigu because of some ancient battle and agreement. Freewill was ninety percent bullshit. “I understand.”
“Good.” Mason clasped his hand. “And good luck. You’ll need it.”
No, he didn’t need luck. He needed magic. He needed the coven at his back. But all he had was fifty years of research that his grandfather had started and his father had added to. Both had been cops. Oskar had used his time at the Uncommon Raven Agency to add his own notes to the file—misusing company time. He now had a clear picture of what Thomas Quigley had been up to, even if he still had no idea how to break the spell or how to kill Thomas.
“Thank you. For everything.” Without Mason and the coven he would’ve ended it sooner—he’d certainly thought about it when he was younger. Living with a death curse was a sentence on its own. Eighty-nine days. Plenty of time.
Excerpt: Embodied
Alexis Carlson gathered up the mail and put the envelopes in the in-trays of the three lawyers she worked for, leaving Peyton for last. Of the other two, one had already gone for the day and the other was on the phone.
Peyton was working, his fingers moving fast over the keyboard. She paused for a moment to watch and admire before stepping into his office. He glanced up but didn’t stop, so she moved quickly toward his desk to drop the mail. This wasn’t the time to ask what plans he had for Valentine’s Day.
He was single, as far as she knew. But she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d received dozens of offers. Or maybe he had a function to go to. Some fancy country club event. He was so far out of her league she shouldn’t be wondering, but there was something about him that had always made her heart lift and her breath catch. A glint in his eyes or the way his mouth curved into a half smile.
Peyton was also the most eligible man in the firm. Which was another reason she shouldn’t be thinking of him as anything other than a lawyer, and her boss.
He stopped typing and looked at her; his dark hair was never out of place. She’d never seen him be anything but composed. He didn’t have temper tantrums like Reggie Holt, or curse like a sailor the way Ben Campbell did. Or leer the way some of the older men did. If he had any bad habits then she hadn’t discovered them. Yet there had to be a reason he was single.
“Got anything exciting for me, Alexis?”
“I don’t think so. Latest journal and a few letters.” She handed them to him rather than putting them in his in-tray.
He smiled as he took them and added them to a pile that wasn’t his in-tray.
She hesitated. Maybe she was imagining this vibe between them. However, she didn’t have this sensation with anyone else. She could get in an elevator with any other man and not hope they’d be trapped. With him she always hoped for a few minutes alone so he’d make a move. He never had, and the tension had never lessened. When he lifted an eyebrow her heart tripped over itself and her mouth dried.
She could fantasize all she wanted, but she doubted he’d ever seen her as anything but the woman who dealt with his paperwork. There must be something wrong with him; what, she couldn’t imagine. He didn’t even chew with his mouth open at staff morning teas.
“Did you put in your application for the PA job with Stevenson?”
Alexis blinked and her brain had to stop wondering why Peyton Kilpatrick was single. “Um…not yet.”
There’d be other people applying. People with more experience.
“You should. I’ll give you a reference.”
“Trying to get rid of me.” She laughed, trying to make her words a joke, but the laugh was more of a snort. Could she be any more awkward?
Peyton shook his head. “No. I don’t know how I’d live without you, but you deserve the promotion.”
If she got the job, she wouldn’t be able to see Peyton on a daily basis. Which might help her obsession. “If I didn’t get it, I don’t know how I’d be able be able to turn up.”
His lips parted in understanding. “I wouldn’t hold it against you.”
He might not but word would get around. Everyone would know she’d tried and failed. She’d have to find a new job and she liked this one. And not just because of Peyton. Mostly because of Peyton. Before she’d done the interview for this job she’d thrown up twice. She wasn’t ready to go through that stress again. The risk of failure was too great.
“Think about it, Alexis.”
She nodded. She’d thought about it and had decided no. The extra money would be nice, but there was more to life than money. And now she was standing in his office like some kind of chatty annoying coat rack. She licked her lips and she was sure his gaze dropped just a little. What did she think was going to happen?
That he was going to reach over the desk and pull her close?
She’d had that thought a few times. But it wasn’t going to happen. Couldn’t. He was her boss. And he was trying to get her to take a job working for someone else in the firm. …Maybe he was interested and he wouldn’t do anything while she worked for him.
“Got plans for the weekend?” It was Valentine’s Day on Saturday. But she wasn’t going to ask about that directly.
“Catching up with some friends.”
“Yeah, me too.” Her best friend had put together a coven and they were making love potions or something. She didn’t believe in magic. She was there to make up numbers. Most times she wished she was home in the bath with a romance novel and a glass of wine. That was a better way to spend an evening instead of sitting on the floor surrounded by candles and chanting or meditating to raise energy or whatever Bethany had planned. She always felt odd afterward, like her skin wanted to run a marathon. The incense didn’t agree with her. Bethany called her overly anxious.
Bethany was probably right.
“Well, I hope you have a good weekend.” She took a step back before the conversation could get any more strained. Fifteen minutes until she could leave for the day. She was sure she could find something to do at her desk.
“You too.” He gave her that smile and for a moment she believed he liked her as more than a secretary. Which was ridiculous. His family came from money, her family scraped by. Her father had always reminded her not to overreach but be happy with what she had. Advice she’d taken to heart.
It was better to have something than nothing, and at the moment she had the hope that Peyton liked her. If she asked him out and he said no, that hope would be crushed. And if he did like her, he’d never ask her out because she worked for him and he was too honorable. She smiled to herself as she walked to her desk. Really, they had the perfect relationship.
As requested by Bethany, Alexis dressed in pink and had matching roses. Of all the silly things she’d done for Bethany and her coven, this had to top the list. It at least made the top three. The six other women were also in pink and there were rose-scented candles everywhere.
She sniffed, but the sneeze never eventuated even though the tingle remained. Bethany wanted to create some kind of love charm because it had been a year since she’d dated anyone, and she was tired of scrolling through dating sites only to find men who wanted a hook up. Another of the women wanted to put the spark back i
n her marriage.
Alexis wanted Peyton.
But she couldn’t say that. She’d never admit to that crush. It wasn’t as though she was totally dateless. She’d gone out, she’d let her friends set her up, but the men never measured up to Peyton. Her father would tell her she was aiming too high. Her mother would remind her that it was better to have something than nothing and ask again why she couldn’t be happy with some of the other men she’d dated. It wasn’t that she was holding out. She just wanted something…more.
But she didn’t know what that was. Her whole life she’d been searching for something, and so far she’d and never found it. Probably because it didn’t exist. The first few meetings of Bethany’s coven had been fun. Conversation and champagne, less about spells and more about catching up with friends and having fun. It was an improvement on the book club Bethany had tried to get them all involved in before this. They’d never been fun books. Truthfully Alexis had never finished any of them. She wasn’t sure Bethany had either. Sandra totally had and made sure that everyone knew.
Despite the pink and the incense, this was definitely better than book club.
Tonight could be fun. She’d make a charm and then come up with a colorful story about how it worked that they could all laugh about next month. She was sure some of the others would do the same. It wasn’t like this was a real coven. None of their spells had ever worked—not when the witty stories were removed.
Bethany kissed her cheek. “Champagne?”
“Yes.” She’d agree to everything and have fun. Even if she didn’t believe that Bethany’s chosen goddess, Freya, was actually going to listen to them. What had happened to all the old gods and goddesses? Had they retired or been killed? Did gods die? The whole concept was kind of odd.
“This time tomorrow no man will be able to resist us.” Danika’s glass was almost empty, her eyes were bright. How many champagnes had she drunk?