His old school magic had earned a reputation among the underground circuit. A sort of celebrity status Z used to his every advantage.
The memory of him, chest puffed up in self-importance, dismissing me as he ushered a client into his back room, still grated. Not the seeing clients part. The fact that he never introduced me to a single one. And when the situation couldn’t be ignored, he’d call me simply “Gem” or his “special friend.”
I’d give him a special friend tonight, all right.
Adjusting my newly conjured tits, I stuck them out and marched onward, butterflies batting at my insides. Shapeshifting into a busty blonde I’d seen Z talking to at the races once was a piece of cake. Conjuring a bra to fit her had been a challenge I couldn’t quite meet.
Now that we were here, I was starting to wonder about my sanity. Maybe my judgment had been compromised when I’d shifted into this form. Like not conjuring enough brain cells to fit this particular brain or—
“Holy hot mess in a burning barrel. What the hell is this?” Gran asked when she caught sight of the townhouse’s décor. “Halloween isn’t for months yet.”
“Z likes to be noticed.”
She snorted. “Compensating, huh?”
I didn’t answer.
I was not going to talk about penis size with my June-bug grandmother.
Or not today, anyway. We were still in a fight.
I hesitated when we got close to the door. Glancing around, I made sure the streets were empty. By now, most humans were in for the night, but that’s not who I worried about spotting us.
A prickle of awareness shot down my spine, and I looked up.
From the rooftop, Milo waved, a spark of magic glinting off his palm in the moonlight. Our signal. He was ready.
A soft growl from the edge of the row of houses alerted me to where Jax had taken up position. I barely caught sight of his panther slinking away before he’d crept out of sight.
I took a deep breath.
“You think it’s wise busting in on your ex with your current flavor as backup?”
I almost didn’t answer. I mean, of course, it wasn’t wise, but there’d been no swaying Jax once I told him my idea. I had, however, made him promise to remain in panther form. A strategy that could prove useful—mostly for me so that I wouldn’t have to deal with his opinions or comments—or terribly unwise. I’d also ordered Milo to keep an eye on Jax. One wrong move, and the panther would get shot with a fae energy blast.
“I’ve done dumber shit,” I said finally.
Gran hooted. “Remember that time you tried sneaking out to party with the Diablo brothers, but they got caught in your mama’s backyard booby trap?”
I smiled at the memory. “They were picking eggshell out of their fur for weeks. I was so embarrassed.”
“Kept you from running the streets with those criminals though.”
“Mostly,” I agreed with a sly look her way.
But my smile disappeared quickly as I studied the familiar townhouse. It hit me then. What I’d come here to do. Ugh. I’d rather face down a demon than face Z again.
“You okay?” Gran asked.
I could feel her scrutinizing me.
“I’m fine. You better get out of sight.”
“Showtime,” she whooped and ducked into the bag.
With a deep breath, I stepped up from the sidewalk onto the porch and waited.
“Aren’t you going to knock?” Gran’s voice was muffled.
“No need.”
The shrubs on either side of the front door rustled despite the nonexistent breeze. Branches swayed then dipped, reaching for me. I knew from experience they doubled as a home surveillance system. On the other side, the camera allowed Z a full view of who stood at his door.
I shoved my boobs out again and waited.
Not ten seconds later, the front door opened.
Z stood there, shirtless, rumpled hair, and sparkly blue bedroom eyes with the volume turned all the way up. My heart thudded loudly in my chest—part attraction, part nerves, and all of it wrapped in disgust.
After months apart, I could see him so clearly now. Hot, yes. But egotistical and completely incapable of a deep relationship with anyone other than himself. Z was sexy in a that-guy’s-full-of-himself kind of way.
I’d spent our entire relationship trying to prove to him I was as good as he thought himself to be. Some of the disgust I felt at seeing him was for myself. But right now, I wasn’t Gem. I was Kira, a groupie from the race circuit and the exact kind of girl Z would invite inside without a moment’s hesitation.
Sure enough, when he saw me, his gaze did a sweep, his eyes lingering on my breasts.
“Hey, Z.” I kept my voice low. Shapeshifting into another form came naturally to me. Matching voices proved a lot trickier.
But at the sound of his name, he broke out into a grin.
“Kira, it’s good to see you. I had a feeling you’d be back.”
Gag.
He swung the door wide. “Come on in.”
He palmed my ass when I walked by. “Missed you,” he said.
It took everything in me not to react. At least my disguise was working.
The asshole was too predictable.
Z shut the door and turned to face me, his ab muscles flexing hard. “So, what brings you by this time of night, doll face?”
A knowing glint lit his dark eyes, and I tightened my grip on the bag, imagining the bricks smashing into his playboy face.
“I need some help with a little problem,” I purred—or maybe I sounded like a five-year-old with a whine, I couldn’t be sure. “A supernatural problem, that is. And I hear you’re the man to see about that.”
Despite my terrible voiceover, Z looked intrigued. “You came to the right place.”
“Are you sure?” I bit my lip. “It’s a bit complicated.”
“Darlin’, I’m not just the man to see, I’m the best there is. Come on. Let’s step into my office.”
I checked my gag reflex and waited as he led the way into his personal ritual space. He’d remodeled—magically, of course—back when he’d first bought the place and now, the ritual area took up the entire right side of the townhouse’s first floor. It had been glamoured to look like a formal sitting room. The kind you looked at but never really sat in. He said it kept guests from getting nosy. Even though I could sense the glamour, his spells warding the space prevented me from entering.
And he’d never invited me in as Gem.
I’d only been invited to the bedroom. And once, the back patio so we could have a view of the stars.
Prick.
Z stopped just before the arched doorway that led into his private ritual room.
“Ostendo,” he muttered, and the image of the room shimmered then slid away to reveal a space stacked floor to ceiling with black shelves. On them, jars and baskets and candles and bowls were stacked against one another. Not a single open space remained.
I didn’t even have to fake the awe reflected in my expression.
“This is impressive,” I said.
He offered a smug smile and pointed out a ritual wand leaning against a jar of what looked like eyeballs.
“That wand over there belonged to the first witch in the Quarter. And these amethyst stones? Used to close the first demon portal ever found.”
For some reason, his collection of trinkets made me think of my dad. But my father had earned his. Z had probably traded for these—or accepted them in place of cash for those clients who couldn’t pay.
I schooled my features into open awe and pointed. “The one with the stones is pretty.”
Z closed the distance between us. He held his hand to my cheek and let his skin graze mine ever so slightly. “You’re pretty,” he countered. “Now, what is it I can do for you, babycakes?”
I licked my lips and noted the way Z’s eyes caught on the motion.
“Well, the thing is, I was wondering if you have anything that could hel
p with, you know,” I lowered my voice and tried to look properly scandalized, “wrinkles.”
Z’s brows arched. “You have a loved one you’d like to restore?”
“Not exactly.” I shifted my weight and looked away, hoping he’d get the hint.
“Ah. You’d like to preserve yourself a bit longer then?”
“Yes, please.”
He snapped his fingers. “I have just the thing.”
A quick perusal of his shelves yielded a small vial of something dark and viscous. He handed it to me. “This oughtta do it, beautiful.”
“What is it?” I held the bottle gingerly.
“Just a bit of gingko, a smattering of hemlock, and a dash of absinthe.” I sniffed gingerly, noting the coppery overtones even through the closed bottle.
“What smells like copper?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. Main ingredient. Almost forgot.” He beamed. “The blood of a virgin.”
My hand went slack, and the vial almost slipped.
Z reached for it, moving quicker than I’d given him credit for. He snatched it back disapprovingly. “You’ll want to be careful. That last ingredient, especially, is hard to come by.”
“Right.”
I swallowed hard.
“Why don’t I slip it into your bag?” He dropped the vial inside before I could protest.
The glass clinked hard against the bricks. Something cracked.
Z’s expression clouded.
I froze.
In the silence, another voice rang out clear as day.
“Funky buttloving, this shit is sticky.”
Z’s eyes narrowed, and he backed away. “What the hell was that?”
“Oh, my bag is charmed to alert me—”
Gran crawled onto the bag’s handle, choking and gagging and spitting up blood.
“Gran!” My voice came out way too forceful to be Kira.
Dammit.
“What the fuck?” Z stepped back at the sight of Gran, which, in another life, would have been funny. Seeing Z, the “all-powerful” warlock of New Orleans retreating over a June bug did have comedic value. Unfortunately, his retreat and subsequent glare also meant he knew I wasn’t Kira.
Busted.
“Just who the hell are you, really?”
In lieu of an answer, I pulled out a blood-stained brick and held it high. Z’s eyes widened.
“Don’t move or I’ll destroy an entire wall of your trinkets,” I warned, still trying to sound like Kira if for no other reason than she didn’t sound like me.
“Shit, okay, yeah, I’m not moving. Just put that thing down.”
Finally. Something Z loved more than himself.
Why wasn’t I surprised that something involved the blood of virgins?
“Good. Now, I need an illusion spell capable of looking like a portal to heaven.”
Z frowned.
Both of us looked over as Gran burped loudly.
My bag swayed in my hand as a very wet looking June bug perched on the lip. “That,” Gran said, panting, “was some bull shit.”
“Is that a beetle?” Z asked.
“Oh, no he didn’t.” Gran leaped into the air, but her wings, coated in blood, didn’t get halfway open before she careened toward the hardwood.
I bent and caught her in my open palm just in time.
“Thanks, Gem,” she said, and I set her on the table beside me.
“Don’t put her there, she’ll get everything—Wait.” Z stopped. “Did you just say Gem?” Z’s glare swung from Gran to me. “As in Gem Hawkins?”
Damn.
There went my cover.
He squinted, no doubt trying to see through whatever glamour I’d used. Shifting wasn’t a glamour, per se, but now that Gran had spilled the beans, I lost patience with my get-up. Mainly, these boobs were giving me back pain that should’ve been covered under workman’s comp.
Poor Kira.
With a sudden shudder, I shed the skin of playboy bunny Kira and re-emerged as me. One blue eye, one brown. Chin-length blonde hair. And a fair amount of attitude for the guy who stood before me.
“It’s me, asshole. Surprise. Now, tell me what I want to know.”
“Holy… wow, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize… but that form definitely didn’t have a flaw.”
My eyes narrowed.
“You know what I mean,” he added hastily. “Your skill for shifting is incredible.” His awe turned to interest. He took a step closer. “Why didn’t you say it was you? I’ve missed you, baby.”
“Funny. You said the same thing when you thought I was Kira.”
“Kira’s just a friend. You know that. Besides, you’re my number one girl, Gemmy. Always have been.”
He took another step.
The nickname pissed me off, but it was his blatant assumption that I’d come back to be with him that really pushed me over the edge.
“You need to stop right there.” I lifted the brick higher, and Z halted. “I mean it. Come any closer, and I’m shattering something. Either that wall or your face.”
He put his hands up. “Whoa, Gemmy, calm down.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“But you liked it last time. Remember?” His smile turned provocative. “That night in my car?”
“Ugh. You mean the night you offered to spell me to look like Halle Berry while we had sex in your friend’s Charger?”
“Babe. You were into it.”
I considered hitting myself in the face with the brick.
“This little shitbird’s really starting to chap my ass,” Gran said. “Can we just muzzle him and be done with it?”
“Not until he answers my questions.” I looked at Z. “How do I cast an illusion spell that looks like a portal to heaven?”
“Whoa. I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but I can’t just hand out that kind of information. It’s dangerous. You could hurt yourself.”
I snorted. He hadn’t even bothered to deny he knew how.
“I’m willing to risk it,” I said. “Tell me.”
“Look, why don’t we just go into the living room and sit down and talk this out? Clearly, you’re pissed about how things worked out—”
“How things worked out? Z, you ghosted me when my dad died. You’re the worst kind of shitbag boyfriend there is.”
“How many times do I have to apologize? I made a mistake. My data plan—”
“And you tried to hold me back from chasing my dreams as a driver.”
“You were happier at home, taking care of me.”
The brick looked more and more appealing the longer he talked.
“Z, I came for information. Answer me now or I’m going to smash every magical tool in this room. Starting with you.”
“Hey now,” called a familiar voice from the hall. “I thought you said no physical violence.”
Milo rounded the corner, and Z’s eyes went wide.
“What the hell?” Z demanded, but Milo ignored his question to give him a scathing once-over.
“Daaamn, G. This is the infamous Z? You weren’t wrong. He’s easy on the eyes but hard on the ears.” Milo looked at Z. “Heard a lot about you. Can’t say any of it was good. And here you are living right up to that rep.”
“Who are you? How’d you get in here?”
“Milo. Back door.” He smirked. “And no, that’s not a euphemism. I don’t do leftovers.”
“Fuck off,” Z snapped.
Milo marched right up to Z and wrapped his hand around Z’s throat. Z’s eyes bulged, and he tried muttering some sort of incantation, but a quick spark of magic ignited from Milo’s free hand, zapping Z in the cheek. Burnt skin sizzled, and Z cried out.
“Good. I have your attention,” Milo snarled, and I blinked.
He’d gone from casual shit talker to Liam Neeson too fast for me to follow.
“Now,” Milo continued, “is it true you know how to do old-school black magic? Can you turn princes into toads and all tha
t fairy tale shit?”
“I, uh, well—”
“Is he always this humble?” Milo asked me without taking his hand from Z’s throat.
“Nope,” I said. “Must be trying to impress you.”
“Aww. I feel so special,” Milo said.
Z’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing,” he said, his voice hoarse, thanks to the pressure Milo kept around his throat, “but I want you two the hell out of my house. This is trespassing.”
“Trespassing? I guess that’s true, though I considered it more of a shakedown.” Milo looked at me. “Wouldn’t you say?”
“We could always scale up to blackmail,” Gran offered.
“Oh, yes, I like that one better,” Milo agreed.
“I’m calling SSF. This is bullshit.” Z reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Milo resumed his chokehold just as a black panther darted into the room.
Jax reached up and snagged Z’s phone right out of his hand. Z gasped and jumped back as Jax munched happily on the phone until it cracked and broke into pieces. Jax dropped it at his feet. A pile of dead technology.
Z paled. “What the hell is going on? W-who are you people?”
Jax simply sat and blinked up at him with glowing eyes.
I waited until Z looked back at me. His expression was somewhere between terror and morbid curiosity.
“That’s Jax,” I said. “The alpha of the McGuire pack.”
“We got no beef, dude,” Z said in a wavering voice still squeaking from the pressure Milo had on his throat.
I took satisfaction from that waver and squeak.
“I’m going to release you now,” Milo said with all the calm of a serial killer. “But if you try to use magic or anything else against us, Jax’s pack has your place surrounded, and their orders are to rip you apart slowly so you feel every tear and break, got it?”
Z nodded, still eyeing Jax with open fear.
“What does he want?” Z asked me.
“The illusion spell,” I prompted.
“Right,” Z said. He licked his lips, looking around blindly as if he’d never seen this room before. “Look, the thing is, illusions like this are complicated. You might be better off just conjuring an actual portal.”
“You expect me to believe you can conjure a portal to heaven?”
Death's Door (Supernatural Security Force Book 3) Page 12