White Charms and Dark Secrets (Grey Witch Book 2)

by Cece Rose

  “We're not exactly friends,” I mutter.

  “Then why did he bring you home last night?” he probes, his eyebrow raised.

  “He saved me from... Wait a second, how the hell do you know about that? Are you spying on me or something?” I question.

  “Spying is such a harsh word. I prefer to think of it as looking out for my friends,” he answers nonchalantly, but the furrow in his brow tells he didn’t mean to let that slip to me; he messed up.

  “Whatever you want to call it, stop doing it. It's not okay, and I swear to the goddess if I catch you doing it again I'll...” I trail off. Shit, what would I do?

  He smirks. “Next time maybe think through your punishment before making the threat. But I could think of a few fun ways you could torture me for revenge.”

  “You cannot be serious.” I roll my eyes. “You're incorrigible.”

  “I prefer optimistic. I'm very optimistic about my chances of seducing you.”

  I sigh, before dropping my arms down to my sides. “How do I know you're telling me the truth, Rhydian?” I ask.

  “Why would I lie about my plans to lure you into my bed?” he teases.

  “Shut up. You know what I'm talking about!” I snap, my fists clenching at my sides as I try to keep a hold of my temper. Could Rhydian not just be serious for five damn minutes?

  He loses his smile. “Just think about it, Kayla. Why would I kill him? He's some dumb, useless human. He's of no concern to me, or my plans. What did I have to gain by killing him and drawing a ton of attention towards the place where I was trying to keep a low profile because of my disguise? Do you think I'm that stupid?” He looks at me, imploring me to understand his logic.

  “I hate to admit it, but what you're saying does make—just on this occasion, so don't get a big head—some reasonable sense,” I admit begrudgingly. His smile returns.

  “You know what else I'm right about?”

  “If you say anything about us sleeping together I may kill you,” I growl.

  “I don't need to point out I’m right about that, because you already know.”

  I gape at him. How could someone be this insane, arrogant, and stupidly cocky?

  He laughs at the horrified expression on my face. “Let me get you another drink,” he offers—once he's stopped chuckling at my expense. I’m surprised when he stands up and walks over to the bar in the corner of the room himself to get me one.

  “Not calling your naked severs back in here, then?” I ask, as I stand up and follow him across the room, leaning against the bar as he mixes me a drink. I eye the strange bottles he’s using, none of the labels are in English.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Not jealous, are you?”

  “You wish.” I roll my eyes. “I’m just curious as to why you have servers up here, and not down in your basement bar? Though, I’ll admit, that thing is pretty great. I wish I had a bar that would magically make my drinks for me.”

  “Well, some of the guests that I entertain up here require people to drink from, rather than glasses for one,” he says. His eyes narrow and fixate on my neck. “I thought you said you and the detective weren’t friends?” His hand darts out, and he brushes his fingertips over my new scar. I flinch and stumble back, tripping and landing hard on my ass. He looks down at me on the floor with a mixture of concern and amusement as my cheeks flush red from both anger and embarrassment.

  “We’re not friends. He didn’t do that, but the vampire who did isn’t my friend either,” I snap, and I stand back up, ignoring his outstretched hand. The meaning behind my words must sink in, as a furious look takes over his face for a moment, but he smooths his expression out before I can be sure.

  “You’re quite clumsy for a witch,” he comments.

  “Well, being cursed with bad luck will do that to you,” I mutter, grabbing the drink he’d made me and drinking a sip. It tastes great, however, so I gulp down half the glass. I could use something to settle my nerves right now.

  “Cursed with bad luck?” he echoes, voice tinged with curiosity.

  “Yeah. It’s a family curse. I’m doomed to bad luck forever. Because it feeds off my magic, it’ll never go away,” I grumble.

  “Have you tried anything to get rid of it?” he asks.

  “A couple spells, but nothing works. My family has tried for a few generations to clear the spell, with no success,” I admit.

  “I can look into it for you, if you’d like? I may have access to some resources that your family doesn’t,” he offers.

  I chew my bottom lip as I consider it. Do I really want to accept his help?

  “I’m not asking for anything in return, sweetheart. Stop pulling a face like you’re considering making a deal with the devil.”

  “Then why are you offering to help me?” I ask, wary about his reasons. What does he have to gain from this?

  “Because I want us to be friends,” he answers simply.

  “Friends?” I snort. That man wants anything but friendship.

  “Yes. Friends.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you,” I declare, wanting to make it clear.

  “And I wouldn’t ask you to in return for something. I’m sure you’ll change your mind all on your own, after all,” he drawls.

  “Dream on, fairy,” I mutter, straightening up as I hold my hands out to start casting my portal home.

  “I will,” he answers, winking at me with no shame as I begin to chant the incantation to take me back home.

  Six

  Black Fur & Fae Jewellery

  I wake up feeling only a little better than I did yesterday. My body doesn’t ache from sleeping awkwardly on the sofa, but my neck still feels tender under the skin, and the lethargy still seems to be hitting me hard. Even after twelve hours sleep yesterday, and ten hours last night, I’m still exhausted.

  As I pull myself out of bed, I notice something shiny on my desk. It’s glinting in the sunlight creeping through the gap in the curtains. I wander over, drawn to the shiny object like a magpie. A chunky, cuff-like silver bracelet sits on top of an envelope marked with only my name. How the hell did someone get this in here?

  I shiver. The idea of some unknown person sneaking into my bedroom while I was sleeping unnerves me. I inspect the bracelet, looking at the delicate markings that cover the entire piece. It looks like the engravings could be runes or sigils of some kind.

  After placing the bracelet down with care, wary of what magical properties it may possess, I pick up the envelope, crudely ripping it open. I pull out a plain white card. I stare at it for a couple seconds in confusion, before flipping it over.

  Kayla,

  If the bad luck comes from your magic, why not cut it off? Removable only by the wearer, this bracelet is spelled to drain magic and hold on to it.

  It may be useful if you require good luck more than your magic. Which, from what limited glimpses I have seen of it, can be unpredictable at best.

  I’ll see you very soon.

  -Rhydian

  Oddly, I feel relieved it was only Rhydian who had been in here. I pull a face at myself in the mirror above my desk as I put down the note. Just yesterday I’d been accusing him of murder, and now I was okay with him breaking into my house while I’m sleeping? Maybe I should check with Aunt Silvia to make sure he hasn’t already spelled me somehow.

  Speaking of Aunt Silvia... I grab my phone and check the time, grimacing as I realise she’ll be here in twenty minutes. I haven’t even had a shower or put acceptable clothes on. Ugh.

  I grab a towel and rush for the bathroom. After flicking on the light, I turn on the shower and strip off my baggy sleep shirt and underwear. Freezing my ass off in the chilly bathroom, I toss them both into the laundry hamper in the corner. Looking forward to the hot water, I step into the shower with my face turned towards the spray of water. I immediately regret it. Screeching, I jump back.

  “Holy shit, that is so fucking cold,” I curse, as I grab hold of my towel. As wrap the towel around m
y body, I glance at the temperature control on the shower. It’s somehow moved from its usual place at hot as hell, down to the icy depths side of the scale. This bad luck curse is getting old very fucking quickly.

  I sigh and turn the heat back up. This time I hold my hand underneath the water, testing its warmth before dropping the towel and stepping back under the now hot jets of water. The tension leaks from my shoulders, and I relax for just a moment as the water crashes over me. I grab my strawberry-scented shampoo, wasting no time in washing and then conditioning my hair. The blonde strands feel clean and silky in no time. Rushing, I grab the first body wash within reach without looking and use it. My smile is a little sad as I put the bottle back down. It came in a nice gift set I’d gotten from Lizzy for Christmas. The smell of watermelon is sweet, but fresh.

  I hear the doorbell ringing as I turn off the shower. Why the hell is Aunt Silvia early? She’s never early. If anything, you can count on the fact she’ll be five minutes late to pretty much everything, including her own wedding. She loved to tell that story.

  I wrap the fluffy towel around myself and head downstairs, and my wet hair drips a little on the carpet as I rush to the door. I pull open the door, my eyes widening in surprise when I see it’s not Silvia standing in my doorway.

  “Darren, what are you doing here?” I ask, forcing a pleasant smile onto my face. I can only hope Rhydian didn’t say anything about my visit.

  He takes his time running his eyes over me. “Do you always open your door dressed in nothing but a towel?”

  “Obviously not.” I roll my eyes. Well, there was that one time with the postman when my towel came undone...but Darren really doesn’t need to hear that story.

  “Can I come in?” he asks, leaning his hand on the door frame.

  “Now isn’t a good time,” I answer honestly. Aunt Silvia hates surprises. I doubt she’d be happy to see this six-foot shifter surprise.

  “Is someone there with you?” he pries, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

  “No, but someone will be here in about five minutes,” I reply. At this rate, I’m not going to have a chance to get dressed before she gets here. What am I going to wear today?

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” I echo in confusion, looking back up at him. I realise his assumption from his forlorn expression and sigh. “Nothing like that, Darren. My Aunt Silvia is coming over, and she’s not a fan of strangers.”

  “How long is she going to be here?” he asks, the unhappy expression sliding from his face as fast as it appeared.

  “A few hours tops, why?” I shift a little in the doorway, trying to hide behind it as I notice some random person staring my way as they walk past the house. “Could you hurry this along? It’s freezing, and I want to get dressed.” With gawking strangers and freezing temperatures with wet hair, wearing nothing but a towel, my irritability is rising quickly.

  “Shit, sorry,” he stammers, rushing to the point. “Meet me for coffee this afternoon? I really think we should talk.”

  “If I say yes, will you go away already so that I can get dressed?” I demand.

  “Of course,” he answers breezily, not taking the slightest offence to my words, as I knew he wouldn’t.

  “Text me the details, I’ll see you in a bit.” I shut the door before he can start talking again. He just had to be chatty when I have nothing but a towel on. I roll my eyes as I turn and head for the stairs.

  I run up the stairs and hurry into my bedroom. After pulling on underwear, dark grey jeans, and a floaty black top, I give myself a quick glance in the mirror and shrug. Good enough.

  I frown when I spot what looks like a little black fur on the bottom end of my bed. I inspect it closer. Definitely fur, which is weird, considering Solas never came in this room. Even if he did, my sheets have been washed since he was last here.

  Still frowning, I go to shut my wardrobe and inspect the clothes held within before I do. Ninety-five percent of my wardrobe is filled with blacks, greys, and whites. At least all my clothes go well together. I slam the wardrobe shut just as the doorbell rings once again.

  As I jog back down the stairs, I tie my hair up into a messy bun, just finishing twisting the hair tie over for the final time as I get to the door. The doorbell rings again. Aunt Silvia isn’t patient, despite her own tendency for lateness.

  The smell of lavender hits me as soon as I open the door. I breathe in the scent and feel that same blend of happy and sad I always do when I smell that damn perfume.

  “Took your time opening the door, dear,” Silvia chides instead of greeting me. I smile.

  “I wanted to see how long I could keep you waiting for a change,” I reply, reaching out to give her a hug. She squeezes me back tightly, a firmer grip than a witch her age should have.

  “It’s so good to see you, Kayla. How have you been?” she asks, as she pulls back. I step aside and gesture for her to come in and get out of the cold. Grey skies loom overhead, and I’d place money on it raining any minute now.

  “I’m okay. A little tired, though. How have you been?” I shut the door, blocking out the cold, and then lead her into the living room.

  “I’m the same as always, dear,” she says, and I give her a quizzical look. “Old and falling apart,” she clarifies, beaming at me. Her smile fades as her eyes land on my neck. “What on earth happened to you?”

  I swallow. I really don’t want to talk about this right now. “It’s nothing,” I say, brushing her off. “Would you like some tea?”

  She looks at me a little dubiously, but lets the matter drop. “I’d love some.”

  I nod and hustle out of the living room and into the kitchen. I top up the water in the kettle and set it to boil. I take a few deep breaths, tapping my fingers on the kitchen counter.

  “Are you okay, dear?” Silvia asks from behind me, making me jump.

  “I didn’t realise you’d followed me in here,” I gasp, spinning around to face her. I lean my back against the counter and fold my arms.

  “I wanted to make sure you made my tea right!” She chuckles and takes a seat at the breakfast bar. I try not panic as I see her wobble a little climbing up on the high stool.

  “I’ve been making you cups of tea since I was thirteen, Aunt Silvia,” I respond, trying not to roll my eyes.

  “And yet, you still manage to get it wrong,” she retorts. “Now, ask me whatever it is that’s burning a hole in your mind right now.”

  “Do you know all of the spells my grandma tried to get rid of the curse? I just don’t want to waste my time going over stuff that’s already been tried.” I smile. Silvia always knows when something’s bugging me.

  “Well, I wouldn’t know them all by heart, but I know she kept a record somewhere. I’m sure she kept it all in a book kept with the other grimoires of your ancestors.”

  “I’ve been living here for ages, and I still haven’t found those,” I comment. “I found hers the day I moved in, but I swear the others must be really well hidden.”

  “Well, with the amount of powerful magic in your family, are you truly surprised that she hid them away?” Silvia questions with an arched brow. Her glasses are actually on her face for once, rather than hanging from that beaded chain around her neck, and her intelligent eyes watch me with keen awareness.

  “Any ideas where she’d hide them?” I ask.

  “Somewhere only you would find them, I’m sure.” She gives me this look, like the answer should be obvious.

  “But I haven’t found them.” I gesture around at the kitchen. No ancestor’s grimoires around here.

  “Have you been looking?” she questions me in an almost scolding tone. Like I’m a child that hasn’t done their homework.

  “Well, I explored around a little when I first got here, but I gave up when they weren’t anywhere I could see or think to look. Grams never told me any of her hiding spots. Although, I did find where she hid a really old bottle of whiskey.” I give her a serious look. “Don’t tell anyone, but it
’s beneath a loose floorboard under the bed. I put it back there, for now.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” She chuckles again, the corners of her eyes wrinkling up even more than usual. “Look for hiding places. If you wanted to hide a box filled with powerful spell books, where would you hide them?” she asks.

  “Somewhere my descendant could actually find them without looking around the house a million times like a headless chicken.” I shrug. The kettle clicks. “Now for the important question, are you having one sugar today or two?” I ask, smiling as I grab a large-sized mug.

  “This bitter old lady could use all the sweetness she can get,” she quips, making me laugh.

  “Three sugars it is then,” I reply, popping the tea bag and three sugars into the mug. I pour in the hot water, letting it brew as I walk over to the fridge to grab the milk. I frown at my fridge. I swear I had more food in here. I pick up the milk and walk back over to the brewing tea. “Just a dash, right?” I check. I swear she changes how she takes her tea every time I see her, just so I’d forever get it wrong.

  “That would be perfect,” she answers. “Have you considered trying to get your necklace back from the demon?”

  I pause for a second, before putting the milk back down on the kitchen side. Her question takes me by surprise. She knows that Solas already sold the necklace, that’s the whole reason I got stuck with the demonic kitty.

  “I don’t really think it’s a viable option,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure, dear. Solas has been hanging around members of your family line for years. While you should always be careful around demons, and don’t you dare take this as me telling you summoning demons is okay, but in this instance, he may be your best bet at finding a solution.”

  “What do you mean he’s been hanging around my family for years?” I question.

  “Well, when I was just a little girl, your grandmother and I spied on her grandmother while she practiced magic. We were about twelve at the time, and so curious about all things magic. Waiting for our full powers to come in was driving us crazy.” She smiles fondly, and I can’t help but smile with her as she remembers. “Well, this particular time, I remember we ended up hiding in a closet of all places. We barely kept our composure as we watched your great-great grandmother summon a demon.”