by Alisa Woods
What is this you speak of? Salem rose up on all fours again, puffing out her tail. We have an agreement, witch!
“Agreement?” Zane’s face was the picture of surprise. “Holy shit, you enchanted the cat?”
Salem hissed at Zane, and he drew back, amazed.
“Oh… shit.” Ever’s eyes went wide. “You can hear her?”
Nia’s gun was out again, pointed at Zane’s head. “What the fuck? He’s using mental magick, Ever.” She looked truly freaked. And she didn’t know the half of it.
“Wait!” Ever put up her hands—one to keep Nia from shooting Zane and one to keep Zane to keep him from using his powers on Nia. “Just… wait a second. Both of you.” She pointed at Zane. “No, I did not enchant the cat—”
“I felt her come in the room.” He pointed an accusing finger at Salem. “That is an enchanted creature.” Which was highly illegal and part of why Ever kept the secret of her cat locked up in her apartment. That and if she tried to undo the original spell, all kinds of chaos magick might be let loose.
“Are you going to turn me in?” Ever asked him, pointedly.
He gave her a look like she was ridiculous. “I’m not worried about your cat.”
“Good. Because Salem’s true name is Madeline Bequillart, she’s a 17th-century witch, and she requires certain accommodations for her current condition.”
“The condition of being a cat.” Zane’s amusement was borderline disbelief.
I think I shall claw him.
“Madeline!” Ever snapped.
Zane just stared at them both.
He smells of fetid feet and toadstools. Let the tall one kill him.
“Okay, she doesn’t mean that,” Ever said, mostly to Zane but with a sharp look for Nia, who still had her gun pointed at Zane.
I will feast on his entrails.
“Will. You. Shut. It.” Ever dropped her hands to curl up her fists at her sides.
Salem hissed again then turned her back on the three of them and sashayed out of the room.
“How have you not killed that thing?” Zane wore a half-crooked smile on his face that was cute in a boyish way… and suddenly everything was ridiculous.
Nia finally lowered her weapon. “I’ve been saying that for years.”
“Chaos magick. If I try to undo the spell…” Ever waved both hands as if clearing a bad smell. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters.” The moment of lightness was gone, and the gravity of everything drew down her shoulders again like a hundred-pound boulder.
Nia had put away her gun and folded her arms. “You need to tell me what’s going on here. For real, Ever. No more bullshit.”
Ever sighed and looked to Zane.
“Go ahead.” Zane shrugged. “Sounds like she could help with a cover story.”
The relief of that felt like it might melt her. She shuffled over and gave Nia a hug that her friend awkwardly returned. “Okaaay,” Nia said, worry wrinkling her perfectly-smooth brow when Ever pulled back.
“My dad might be alive.”
Nia’s face transformed. “Ever, honey… I saw them take him away.”
“I’m not crazy, Ni.”
“I’m not saying that.” But she was. In a gentle way, but still.
“His body went missing from the morgue—”
“That could be anything—”
“Just listen.” Ever pulled in a breath but stepped back from her friend. Nia meant well, but it had been a hell of a morning and having her best friend doubt her…
Zane had eased up behind her. “Asher Strange wasn’t the only one.” His voice was quiet, dispassionate—just the balm she needed at that moment. And she was relieved to not have to spell it out. “Several bodies have gone missing. One has been found, and there are indications they survived the overdose. It’s possible the others are still alive. The FBI is investigating.”
Nia’s eyebrows lifted. “FBI? So you’re… what? PsyOps?” But there was newfound respect in her voice. Psychic Operations was a mythical, elite unit—one that, in theory, didn’t exist. According to the rumors, they were licensed to use mental magick in all kinds of borderline legal ways. Maybe Nia knew more about the reality of PsyOps from her time in special forces.
Zane gave a small smile. “No. MCD.”
Nia nodded, still appreciative. To Ever, she said, “So that’s what you’ve been doing. But why the radio silence? I could’ve helped.”
Ever bit her lip. “It’s complicated.”
Zane locked gazes with Nia. “This part is classified. You spill it, you blow my cover and probably get me killed. Which won’t make me very happy. I’m trusting we can count on you to help… because Ever’s life depends on keeping all this quiet as well.”
Nia’s eyes went wide. “What have you gotten into this time?” she asked Ever.
Zane arched an eyebrow at her again. “This time?”
“Don’t ask.” The last thing Ever wanted to talk about was her previous entanglement with the legal system. To Nia, she explained, “I crossed a drug cartel boss, and Zane got me free. But now I need to disappear for a while.”
Nia’s eyebrows slowly hiked up as that sunk in.
Zane gave Nia a nod. “We need you to put out that citywide alert. The head of the Dziki cartel needs to believe Ever’s gone missing. Just until we wind up this case.” He dipped his head to Ever. “We can’t tell anyone else. The more who know, the less this cover will stick.”
“Your sisters will lose their ever-loving minds,” Nia pointed out. “Mercy was calling me this morning, looking for you. Pretty frantic about it, too. That’s why I came here. You need to tell her before your missing-persons alert hits the media. Verity, too. Although, she’s still out of country…” Nia frowned.
Zane had pulled out his phone. “I’m going to set up what we need. Ever, make what phone calls you have to, then pack a bag if you want. We need to roll out of here soon.”
She nodded as he strolled out of the entryway to the kitchen, already tapping on his phone.
Nia watched him go. “Damn.”
“What?” she asked. Nia should be glad there was real security involved in this.
Nia frowned at her. “I thought you’d finally gotten some hot man action.”
“Nia.” She scowled. “That’s the least important thing right now.”
“Yeah. But I’m still disappointed.” Nia sighed. “I worry about you, E. And now this thing with your dad…” She shook her head, but it was kind. Nia had come to work for her—taken care of her, really—when Ever’s mom died four years ago. It was a really hard time, then just as she was recovering, Finn happened… Nia literally bailed her out of jail and scraped her off the floor and kept her moving. Numb, but moving. And now her dad…
“He’s alive, Ni,” she said, staring at her hands. “I just… feel it.”
“Let’s keep you that way, okay?”
She looked up, nodding, only noticing the tears gathering in her eyes when she had to blink them away. “I lost my phone.”
Nia pulled hers out of her coat. “Take mine. You don’t want to be showing up on the networks anyway.” She grimaced. “You need to call your sisters, but there’s something you should know. I’m not even sure if it means anything now, but…” She glanced at the corner Zane disappeared around. “If you’ve got the FBI in on this, maybe they can do something with it.”
She frowned. “What?”
“I went through the stuff in your dad’s home office. You know, where he OD’d.”
“Where he was murdered.”
“Right.” Nia frowned and fished out a printout of something—an email. Ever skimmed it as Nia talked. “Remember that artifact he was after, the one from Ireland?”
“The relic of the saint?” Her father had taken up collecting ancient artifacts from before the 1859 solar storm that ushered in the era of High Magick. Even when magick was at low-tide for thousands of years before that, it wasn’t completely gone from the world.
Witchcraft was primitive, but those with high adept tendencies still had a shadow of their Talents. And artifacts from that time, especially ones that contained blood magick like a relic, were literally priceless. Her father had taken up adventure-hunting to track them through historical texts and try to find them. He didn’t care about the million-dollar price tag they would bring at auction—he wanted them preserved in museums and studied by scientists trained in the magickal arts.
“Saint Eliza Cleary,” Nia said. “Not officially a saint, but rumored to be a worker of signs and miracles during the potato famine in Ireland, just before High Magick. Very likely an adept. Your dad found the relic. A bit of bone in an ornate frame, but it was legit. And it had residual blood magick, too.”
The email Ever had in her hands said as much. “This is dated five days before my dad’s death.” She looked up. “Supposed death.”
Nia nodded. “That relic is worth millions—I don’t even know how much. And I couldn’t find it anywhere. Not in his office. Not in the house. I went through his records, checked with the bank… nothing. I even brought in a charmer specializing in trace-magick detection to sweep the house. Still nothing.”
Ever folded up the email and stuffed it in her pocket. “You think someone killed my dad for this artifact? Or fake killed him?” It seemed more plausible than her father overdosing on skitter.
“I know he received the shipment that contained the artifact,” Nia said. “The dealer followed up, asking what your dad had found with his scans. And now it’s nowhere to be found.”
Ever nodded. “All right. I’ll tell Zane.”
Nia smiled a little. “First name basis, huh?”
Ever gave her a look. “He saved my life, Nia.”
“Well, that’s hot.” She grinned.
“Go away.” Ever fluttered pretend magick with her fingers. “I’m calling my sister.”
Nia chuckled. “I’ll go make sure Agent LadyBoner has adequate security planned for you.”
“His name is Special Agent Zane Walker!” Ever called after her retreating friend’s back. Sweet Magick. She trusted Nia with her life and all her secrets, but only barely trusted her not to say something inappropriate. Ever shook her head and considered calling her youngest sister Verity, but she was off on one of her religious retreats—Ever wasn’t even sure where in the world she was. Tibet? Maybe Hong Kong. She’d disappear for weeks, and she never answered her phone. She probably didn’t even know their father was dead, much less possibly not dead. This wasn’t the kind of thing Ever could leave on voicemail. Instead, she dialed up her middle sister, Mercy.
She picked up on the first ring. “Did you find her yet?”
“Mercy, it’s me.”
“What?” Her sister’s voice squeaked. Ever heard the metal feet of her chair screech across the tiles. Mercy was likely in her office at the Strange Hospital and Research Institute, like she always was, up to her elbows in magick and medicine. Mercy’s Talents were in the healing arts, like their father, so she followed in his footsteps, building the family reputation of brilliant research scientists. “Why are you on Nia’s phone?”
“Mine’s indisposed. Nia said you were trying to reach me?”
“Yeah.” Then her voice got quiet. “Hey, Big Sis, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you know that CharmCare house you like to visit? The one on the west side of the city?”
“Yeah.” Ever frowned. Fuck, what now?
“Three of the charmers OD’d this morning.”
“No.” The air went out of her.
“Yeah, I know. They said you knew one of them. Willow?”
Oh no. It felt like another body blow when she’d already taken a million since she got up that morning. She was on the Board of the charity her family ran, but she went to the CharmCare houses to meet the charmers whenever she could. If they landed in CharmCare, they were almost always coming out of abusive situations—usually magick abuse, but physical and emotional and often sexual abuse came right along with it. Charmers were vulnerable—weak in magick and almost always benign stuff like a Talent for hairstyling or a gentling effect on wild animals. Nothing that could fend off a full-strength witch or wizard. And they operated on the economic fringes, usually aced out of the well-paying jobs that went to the magickally adept. Getting to know them and listening to their stories helped Ever make sure CharmCare was helping where help was needed most. And it kept her grounded in a world that seemed like it could turn upside down at any moment, like waking up to find someone you loved—someone you thought would always be there—had died and left you forever.
“Ever?” It was Mercy on the phone.
“Yeah.” There was a lump in her throat. Willow was still a teenager, just 17, and now lying in a morgue somewhere— “Mercy!”
“What?” Her sister sounded startled, then concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Do not let them take the bodies away!”
“Huh? What are you—”
“There’s someone stealing bodies out of the morgue! Mercy, please. Just find out where they took them, okay? And put a guard on the bodies.” She would need a full medical workup on the bodies because if they were only temporarily under some spell, something simulating death—
“Put a guard. On the bodies.” Her sister thought she was nuts.
Ever had left her out of the whole ordeal with their dad’s body—her sister was reeling enough as it was. His death hit both of them hard—Verity was out of country and didn’t even know yet—but Mercy had simply gone back to work. Numbly. Ever knew her sister was in shock, and the way their dad supposedly died seemed to just shut Mercy down. Which was why proving their dad hadn’t overdosed was so important! And now he might be alive.
There was too much to explain.
Zane popped his head around the corner of the kitchen and signaled for her to hurry it up.
“Okay, I’m going to start from the beginning,” Ever said, abruptly heading for her bedroom. What the hell do you pack to run away from your own life? “But I need you to trust me, sis. This is nowhere near as crazy as it sounds.”
And as she walked back through the events of everything that had happened since they’d talked last—their dad missing and now possibly alive, plus all the crazy with the drug dealers—a strange energy buzzed through Ever’s body. Not an adrenaline surge or that wild mix of terror and dread she’d felt back at the FBI field office. This was dangerously close to something like hope. She was going into hiding, but that was temporary. They were going to save those CharmCare girls from the same fate as her father by getting to them before whoever was stealing the bodies. And there was a real chance she and Mercy would see their father again… alive.
Then maybe—just maybe—the world would be right-side up again.
Chapter Five
Zane was certain this was a bad idea.
“This is your place?” Ever asked with a dubious look for the peeling wallpaper in the hallway of his apartment building. Something small and furry skittered along the wall and down the stairs. She didn’t see it, and he didn’t point it out.
“Yeah.” He was glad the junkies that normally lurked in the entranceway downstairs were cleared out—probably off to get their next hit. He strode ahead to the door with #203 stamped on it—faded but still legible—and fumbled to get his key out.
Had he left the place a wreck when Pennies called him in this morning? Zane couldn’t remember. More surprising was that he cared. This high-society witch with the penthouse apartment in the clouds would not be impressed with his dingy apartment even if he remembered to clean up his dishes. And having her stay with him was a really bad idea—so bad that Zane had flat-out offered bribes to every agent he knew to take this duty. But everyone had been pulled into the investigation, scouring the city for overdose cases, trying to make sure no more victims were caught in the net of whatever madman serial killer was orchestrating this. They all wanted to be the one who cracked the case—and no one had time to watch over a Lev
el One mage who could probably take care of herself.
Fuck. He finally got the key in the door and swung it open. He stepped inside and made a quick visual sweep, but he wasn’t sensing any tremors in the wild magick—no adepts nearby. The complex was mostly simples and charmers, so anyone with a strong magickal signature would have stood out. Like the powerful witch next to him.
“Come on in,” he said.
She hesitated in the doorway then stepped inside, eyes wide and taking everything in. Not that there was much. The kitchen was just a corner with a couple cabinets and a microwave. The rest of the front room had a small, two-person table he used for meals and a couch he sometimes worked on. There was a bathroom right off the main room and one bedroom down a short hall… with the door wide open.
Shit. “Make yourself at home,” he said as he hurried over to close the door. No need for her to see his personal “training” room—the one he used to keep his monster under control. He’d be putting that to good use tonight. Just being around her was a constant temptation for the beast.
She watched him with too much curiosity.
“It’s a mess back there.” He cringed inside at the lameness of the excuse, but she took it with a nod. She set her backpack—all she’d brought from her fancy apartment—on the couch, and he hoped she had clothes because he had literally nothing in that regard. “I’ll get you a blanket for the couch after I run out for food. I’m afraid I don’t have much right now. Can I get you some water?”
“That’d be great.” She shuffled over to sit on the couch while he stepped into the kitchen nook.
They’d been hustling around since they left her apartment, trading in the FBI car, taking a couple different taxis, finally picking up his car where he’d left it outside of Pennies’ estate. Thankfully, no one had seen him there, but if they had, his story would have held together—after all, he’d supposedly spent the morning at the brothel with Ever. It would make sense that he’d be back to get his car. But he had to be careful anytime he left or returned to the apartment. Pennies knew where he lived, and he might have people watching—it was all part of his cover, which was why, in the end, he’d decided to bring Ever here. He already had surveillance of his apartment set up—just a video feed that went back to the field office, but at least it was someone tracking him if he went missing. He tapped that feed and routed it to his phone, with an alert that went off when anyone entered or left the ten-apartment complex. That way he could keep an eye on the place even when he wasn’t around… and could step out briefly to get supplies for Ever.