Grave Witch

by Kalayna Price

Page 15

  Author: Kalayna Price

  I shuffled in my seat, crossing then uncrossing my legs. I waited, expecting more questions, but they didn’t come. I picked up my coffee and took the opportunity to redirect the conversation.

  “How is Father handling Coleman’s disappearance and presumed death?”

  “He’s distressed. We’re all very … distressed. ” She stared off in the distance. “It seems so strange, the thought of him being dead. I saw him right before—you know? We were at Harriet’s charity dinner. She’s a state senator, by the way. It was some bleeding heart charity of hers for children displaced by magic or something. Anyway, I sat across from him at dinner. He was so alive, so brilliant. ”

  Riiight. Sounded as if my little sister had a crush. “So, Father is handling the stress of taking over the governor’s seat?”

  Casey’s eyes snapped into focus. “Why do you keep asking about Daddy?”

  “I’m not. I’m …” Caught. Dammit. “Can’t I be concerned?”

  She stood. “I think it’s time for you to go. ”

  She swept across the room and held open the door, her lips pressed thin. I drained my coffee before following.

  She escorted me all the way to the front door. I reached for the knob but didn’t turn it. Damn Falin for putting the idea in my head, but I had one more question to ask.

  Casey saw me hesitate and huffed out a sigh. “I forgot, Alexis. Let me grab my purse. ” She walked to the side coat closet, the snap of her heels loud and harsh on the marble.

  I waited for her to return before asking, “Who else did you tell I was going to see Coleman’s body?”

  “No one. Well, Daddy. But that was it. Why?” She didn’t wait for me to answer but pulled the bills from her billfold and shoved them into my hand. “It’s all I have in this purse, but since you couldn’t actually raise the shade, it probably didn’t take too much of your time. Now, please go. ”

  I shoved the money in my bag and saw myself out. As I reached the bottom stair the sound of tires on pavement caught my ears. I looked up. A silver Porsche was winding up the drive. Oh crap; Daddy Dearest is home.

  I darted down the walk and dove into my little hatchback.

  I slammed the door and shoved the key in the ignition simultaneously.

  The engine sputtered.

  Come on.

  It sputtered again and then turned over. The Porsche pulled to a stop behind me. I threw my car in gear and gave her some gas. My little hatchback jutted forward, faithfully chugging down the drive. I wasn’t going to come face to face with evil tonight, or Father either.

  ———

  I stopped at a red light and tugged my purse into my lap. I’d thrown the money Casey had given me into the top of the purse when I’d taken off. Now I pulled the cash out, counting.

  Thirty-two dollars.

  An inappropriate giggle bubbled in my throat. I let it free until my whole chest shook and moisture filled the corners of my eyes. John was in the ICU; I had a dozen stitches, a sprained wrist, and a hospital bill I couldn’t pay; and Casey thought my time was worth thirty-two dollars. I wiped my eyes and thrust the cash back into my purse.

  I shouldn’t have gotten involved in this madness. I should have told her no and gone home. What I needed now was a new client or two. Insurance cases were always good, or maybe one of those crazy shrinks who thought their patient needed closure with some deceased family member—those cases were weird, but they tended to last a while, which meant they paid well. Of course, I needed to start answering my phone again if I expected someone to hire me.

  I drummed my thumb on the steering wheel and frowned at the red light. It was taking its sweet time to change. I reached for the radio knob—maybe I’d get lucky and it would work.

  My car lurched forward, and my head bounced off the dash. Sharp pain tore across my forehead and tears welled in my eyes.

  I jerked upright.

  What the hell?

  The front of a white van filled my rearview mirror.

  How did he … ? Something wet trailed into my eyebrow.

  Oh crap. I pressed my hand against my stitches.

  My palm came away damp with blood.

  This just made my crappy day. I threw the car in park and jumped out. My purse tumbled from my lap, hitting the pavement. Great. I brushed everything back inside and threw the strap over my shoulder.

  My poor hatchback’s bumper was crumpled under the huge steel front of the van. The other driver put the van in reverse and pulled back a foot. I stared at the damage. A hot tear sliced down my cheek. Dammit. I cried when I was angry, which only pissed me off more.

  I wiped away the tear and spun to face the man sliding out of the van.

  “Sorry ’bout that, ma’am,” he said, walking toward me. “Hey, haven’t I seen you on TV? You’re that dead witch. ”

  I opened my mouth, but shut it before I said something I regretted. I took a deep breath. “Grave witch. ”

  How the hell did he hit my car sitting at a red light?

  Hadn’t he been stopped behind me? There was a line of stopped cars behind the van.

  The old man grinned at me, flashing crooked teeth between loose lips. He took off his ball cap and scratched his head, leaning over my twisted bumper. “You can probably knock that out with a hammer. ”

  Yeah, right. I fished my phone out of my purse. “I’m going to report the accident. ”

  The grin faded from his face. “All right, all right. Let me get my insurance information. ” He leaned back inside the van.

  The light changed, and cars careened around us. I stepped closer to the van to keep my toes from getting run over. If I’d been driving past the accident, traffic would have slowed to a crawl as people rubbernecked to watch the minor fender bender, but it was just my luck that since I was the one involved, people whirled by, the wind buffeting me in their wake. The old man, still leaning over his seat and digging in the glove box, glanced back and grinned.

  Behind me a car door slammed. Wheels screeched, and I flipped around in time to see my little hatchback tear off down the road.

  “What the hell!” I dashed forward.

  Half the bumper fell, scraping along the ground and shooting sparks. The thief picked up speed.

  I stopped at the edge of the intersection. “Get back here, you mother—”

  The 911 operator picked up, cutting me off. “Are you in a secure location?”

  “No, my car just got jacked on the corner of—”

  The phone was wrenched from my ear.

  Fingers with too many joints locked around my arm, and alarm shot through my body like an electric shock. I stepped sideways, trying to jerk free. The grip on my arm tightened like a vise. The old man grinned and hurled my phone into the oncoming traffic.

  I swallowed hard. The shock that had run through me a moment earlier settled in my stomach and soured. To my credit, I didn’t scream.

  “What do you want?”

  He grinned again, his crooked teeth straightening before my eyes, his wrinkles smoothing out, and his face taking on the hard angles of the fae. He flashed his nowpointed teeth and tugged on my arm, dragging me toward the van.

  Now I did scream.

  The sliding door of the van crashed open. Another fae stepped out. I screamed as if I had banshee blood and locked my knees, pushing my weight through my heels.

  I lost more ground.

  I jabbed the heel of my boot into the fae’s foot. He yelped and jerked my arm hard, dragging me off balance.

  I crashed to my knees. The shadow of the van fell over me.

  The second fae reached us. I swung my purse, the leather smacking him in the stomach.

  It didn’t faze him.

  The new fae pressed something against my forehead, directly in the trickling blood from my split stitches. I tried to jerk back, but he barked a word in a deep g
uttural language, and a sticky string of magic wrapped around me.

  My legs went numb, then my arms. My voice died in my throat.

  The fae who had been an old man said something in the same guttural language. Not magic this time—a command. The second fae leaned down and grabbed me under the knees.

  He lifted my legs, and I hung between them, unable to move as they carried me to the van.

  Cars swerved around us. No one stopped. No one noticed.

  The Humans First Party claimed that the fae could commit crimes in broad daylight and no one would be the wiser because of their glamour—an illusion magic so strong it could reshape reality. I’d never believed it.

  Guess this was my wake-up call.

  I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t even swallow as the fae with my knees lifted me into the stifling belly of the van.

  “Freeze!”

  They didn’t.

  “Let her go,” a vaguely familiar voice commanded.

  The fae glanced at each other but continued hauling me into the van. The loud bang of a gunshot crashed into the confined space. The fae holding my arms jerked back, dropping me, and a fountain of blood blossomed in the center of his chest.

  My shoulders slammed into the floorboard, followed by the back of my head. I still couldn’t move. The other fae released my legs. He lifted his hands and retreated into the gloom of the van.

  “Alex, get out of the van,” the commanding voice said.

  Ha! I would have if I could have. I couldn’t see my rescuer, but I could almost place his voice. He must have realized my predicament, because a hand dragged me, sliding on my ass, out of the van.

  I landed like a lump on the pavement, and gloved fingers darted across my forehead, ripping the charm away.

  Feeling filled my body like dozens of needles pricking my skin.

  “Get in the car,” Falin commanded, hauling me to my feet. He shoved me toward his red convertible with one hand without taking his eyes, or his gun, off the fae.

  I didn’t need telling twice. Grabbing my purse from where I’d dropped it when the spell hit, I ran for the car. I jumped into the passenger seat, drawing my knees to my chest as the leather seat molded around me. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, pounding behind my eyes so hard it obstructed my vision—or perhaps those were tears making everything fuzzy. I scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my palm.