The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4)

by Kate Karyus Quinn

  “Hepa did that?” I ask. “And I get a walkie-talkie toothbrush, a barrette, and a broom that can kind of fly?” I ask. “Hepa must really dislike me.”

  “She actually likes you a lot, I think,” Nico tells me. “Although with her it’s hard to tell.”

  “So, back to me,” Jax says.

  “Oh sorry, were you not the main topic of conversation for ten seconds?” I ask. I turn to Nico. “Do you really think this is necessary?”

  “Yes, to maintain your cover. And yes, I might be recognized. I’m fairly distinctive,” Nico says, somehow managing to keep a straight face. Because yeah, a Calvin Klein model with an eye-patch and a swagger like his dick is pulling to the left does tend to stand out. “Having Jax drive you removes one more wrinkle from the equation.”

  “That’s me, removing wrinkles all day,” Jax says, heading out the door. “Let me just throw some stuff in the trunk,” he calls back as it swings shut behind him.

  “And,” Nico lowers his voice, leaning into me. “If you should happen to have a little car trouble on the way, or need to pull over for any reason, just make sure Shit knows not to be too protective.”

  “Car trouble?” I ask. “Jax’s car is brand new. I don’t know how he could afford it, I mean, his credit is blown and I doubt he has that kind of cash…” But I do know how he affords it. His sugar mama girlfriend.

  “Paige,” Nico says patiently. “I’m saying, if you should need some time alone with your husband—”

  “Ex-husband,” I correct, straightening up.

  “Right, but you two still sometimes…” I give Nico a shove before he can finish that sentence.

  “No, we don’t. Why the hell would you think that?”

  Nico shrugs. “When I say ride and Jax assumes I meant sex, it seemed like maybe you two have an understanding.”

  My frustration rises to the point where steam must be coming out of my ears. “Jax thinks ride means sex because he’s a bonehead. Or a boner-head. That man has not touched me since the day I found out he cheated on me and he never will.”

  “Thrown out of paradise,” Nico smirks.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Yeah, that’s right, so Jax and I don’t need any time alone. In fact, I don’t need alone time with anybody. I’ve got a broom and a Thunderstick, I’ll remind you. And loyalty in the form of my Dalmanther. So there’s nothing any man can offer—”

  Nico stands there looking like a beef steak to a starving lady, reminding me that there is maybe something one man could offer...

  “Wait,” I cut myself short. “That wasn't something you were going to put on the table if you drove me, right?” I feel my temper bubbling, the rage in my stomach really starting to boil. “Because if you think I’m in the market for a pity fuck—”

  Suddenly, he pulls me in close. Shit issues a low growl.

  “It wouldn’t be a pity, Paige,” Nico says, his breath in my ear.

  Shit takes his growl up a notch, but there’s no real threat in it. He’s just reminding Nico that he’s there, and if Nico pulls anything I don’t want him to. Which…wait, does Shit subconsciously know that I’m melting a little inside right now? Does my dog know me better than I know myself?

  “Toot, toot, the funky train is rolling out,” Jax yells, pushing in through the door. “What’s taking you so—oh! My bad!”

  If seeing me in Nico’s arms has any effect on my former husband whatsoever, it doesn’t show at all. I push away from Nico, my skin going cold where it had been warm next to his.

  “I’m ready,” I say breezily, slapping my thigh so that Shit follows along as I head for the door, pretending that my blood isn’t hot in my veins, that my heart isn’t pumping like I’d just run a marathon.

  Nico catches hold of my hand and spins me around so his back is to Jax, making himself a wall between me and my ex. “Paige, don’t do anything crazy.”

  “How about if I do anyone crazy? Is that okay?”

  Nico’s hand tightens around me. “I thought you don’t hook up with supes?”

  I shrug. “There are humans there too, or maybe…” I look up at Nico from beneath my eyelashes. “I’ll get into the spirit of the place and make an exception.”

  A low growl escapes him. “Maybe I should come along to keep an eye on you.”

  “Nope, you’re too recognizable, remember?” I jerk away from him.

  “Paige—” I can see Nico struggling with himself, probably debating whether he can order me not to have sex. There’s no need to tell him that I have no intention of getting down with any of my fellow commune dwellers.

  “Gotta go,” I chirp merrily. “You’re the one who booked me a one-way ticket on the funky train, remember?”

  “Yeah, toot-toot, wolf-boy!” Jax says, happily joining in and we toot our way out the door. Jax, asshole though he may be, is always a good time.

  I throw my suitcase, the broom, and Shit into the back seat and Jax gives me a wide grin.

  “Hey Paige,” he says as I climb into the passenger seat. “These seats do recline, you know.”

  “All cars have seats that recline, shithead,” I tell him, but I can’t stop my smile.

  “Yeah, but I’m only in this one,” he says, tipping me a wink before firing up the engine, and burning rubber as he peels out of the parking lot. I look into the rearview mirror just in time to see Nico walk out of the office, shading his one good eye against the sun.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks like a puppy that just got kicked. My heart does a little flip-flop. Was I too hard on him back there?

  In the backseat, Shit gives me a whine, and I glance at him.

  My Dalmanther is right. Nico Tralano is a grown-ass man—grown-ass werewolf man—who bangs his clients and probably has another dick where his heart is supposed to be. I turn my eyes to the road and promise myself I’m not going to think about the men in my life anymore once I’m in the compound.

  Not Liam, not Brent, not Nico, not Jax.

  Not even VSK.

  Nope. I’m going into this sex cult a free woman.

  And I don’t think I’m going to need the broom.

  10

  The ride out of New Jersey and into the backroads of Pennsylvania feels endless.

  Jax insists on getting my opinion on what kind of ring Kimmy might like. Then he goes on and on about the perfect proposal. Seeing as how the ring he gave me came from Walmart and his proposal was, “If we get married can we do it bareback?”—it’s not a topic that I’m especially loving.

  Then I make him turn on the Together We Come Podcast. I read Shauna’s research but I wanted to get a feel for the vibe. The recording has a grainy quality to it, which makes sense since supes and hippies aren’t exactly known for their technological prowess. A woman’s voice, soft and sultry, begins with the Together We Come philosophy. Then she basically talks dirty for thirty minutes. I squirm in my seat while Jax nods his head.

  “This is hot,” he tells me. “You know I thought about joining up at one point. But then I met Kimmy and, well, I chose her, I guess.”

  I turn down the volume. “Would you really have screwed me?” I ask.

  “Should I pull over?”

  “Not unless you gotta take a piss,” I say with a laugh. He joins in. “But really, would you cheat on Kimmy?”

  He gets serious. “I haven’t cheated on her once. My dick hasn’t touched anyone without her approval.”

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s actually huge.”

  “Like my wiener!” He teehees like a little kid. Then his tone changes. “I know you think that I’m a scumbag cheater, which I am, but Paige...we were so young when we got married. I didn’t know who I was, not really. I wasn’t ready for our relationship.”

  I roll my eyes. I wasn’t ready either. I was young. But I was loyal to him. I would have stayed with him. But if he’d never cheated, I’d be with Jax still. His wife. I shudder and glance at him.

  “It’s better this way,” I say. “We w
eren’t really meant for each other, were we?”

  “Hey, if you want to give it another go, I’ll call up Kimmy right now. I’ll tell her that I’m leaving her for you.”

  I laugh. “Liar. You’re all talk.”

  He winks at me and turns the volume back up on podcast. “I love this shit!” At the sound of his name, Shit pops into the front seat to cuddle onto my lap.

  By the time we reach the gravel parking lot in the middle of nowhere, I am more than ready for Jax and I to part ways.

  “Here, hold on to this.” I give him my phone. “Don’t sell it!”

  “I would never...okay, I would, but I promise that I won’t.”

  I gather up my broom and get Shit on his leash.

  “You want me to wait with you until the bus arrives?” Jax asks as he pulls my suitcase from the trunk.

  “Nope.” Taking the suitcase from him, I grab his arm and steer him back to the driver’s seat. “You have a long ride back home.” I try to give him a little shove into the car, but he resists.

  “I’m not sure about this.”

  “I am,” I tell him. “Now go home and worry about Kimmy. I’m not your problem anymore.”

  Jax’s gaze softens and he takes my face in his hands. “You’ll always be my problem. And that’s a promise.”

  Instead of threatening to crush Jax’s balls again, I kiss the tip of his nose and then step away. “I’ve got work to do and you’re getting in the way. Now go.”

  I give him a wave as he pulls away so he can see that I’m okay. The truth is, though, that I am a little nervous. I am really way out in the middle of nowhere and the bus that’s coming is going to take me even further. As a city girl, I prefer being somewhere I know that if I get into trouble I can scream for help and someone will yell back for me to shut my loud mouth.

  It’s too late to chicken out, though, so I pick up my broom and suitcase and trudge over to the battered picnic table where three other people are already sitting.

  Two of them are young frat guy looking types. I’m pretty sure they’re just interested in getting laid and I wonder if the cult has a way to weed those types out from the true believers. Of course, if such a system exists, I could be caught as well. It’s not like my motives for being here are pure.

  “All right,” one of the frat guys says. “We got two babes and two dudes. Let’s Come Together while we wait for the bus.”

  The other girl rolls her eyes. Just because someone likes sex doesn’t mean they don’t have any standards. And neither of us seems interested in getting gonorrhea from one of these basic bros.

  I put down my suitcase and broom and beam at them. “Oh, that would be so great!” I exclaim. “This type of acceptance is exactly why I came here! In the real world guys are so turned off by my vagina quills. I mean, they only lightly puncture the penis...unless you pull out too fast, then there’s always the chance of permanent detachment.” I grin at them brilliantly while they try to hide their expressions of horror. “But that rarely happens.” Reaching for the buttons on my pants, I look from one guy to the other. “Which one of you wants to go first?”

  They exchange looks.

  “She’s joking,” one of them says.

  “Okay, then you go,” his friend replies.

  “I’ll be gentle,” I trill.

  That’s apparently the breaking point.

  “Actually, we’re, ugh, this isn’t—”

  “We’ll pass,” the friend cuts in.

  Keeping my smile pasted on, I shrug. “Okay, I’m sure we’ll have a chance once we’re settled into the commune. I’m so excited not to be the only female with a predatory vagina. I hear it’s quite common. You never know which of us girls has teeth down there,” I say with a gnashing motion.

  “No, actually, we just realized, we can’t join today,” the one says, coming to his feet and backpedaling slowly away.

  “Right,” number two agrees. “I recently found out that my grandma is in this hospital, and she needs—”

  “Oh, is she getting vagina quills implanted?” I ask brightly. “It’s all the rage as you age!”

  Without even saying good-bye they sling their duffel bags over their shoulders and take off, running down the middle of the highway and glancing back as if to make sure I’m not in pursuit.

  I sit down next to the remaining woman who watched this whole exchange with silent and wide-eyed interest.

  “I wonder what got into them?” I ask.

  She blinks innocently. “I think they were freaked out at the idea of having sex with a woman who has quills in her vajayjay.” Frowning slightly, she adds, “I’ve never heard of that before and I thought that I knew all the types of supes. Then again, my best friend is a dragon shifter and before she showed up no one knew such a thing existed, so who really knows.” She holds out a hand. “I’m Cassie, by the way.”

  “Paige,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “This is Shit,” I nod to my dog, who promptly puts up a paw for a shake. Cassie squeals and pumps his leg like a businessman at a high-powered meeting.

  “I love Dalmanthers,” she says. “They are the best thing since fried bread.”

  The flub of this very normal human saying tips me off. I’ve met enough supes that can’t make typical conversation to spot one in the wild.

  “I’m human,” I say. “You?” Okay, not exactly subtle, but asking outright is the easiest way to find out if she’s a supe.

  “Oh, I’m human too,” she says. “But gifted.” She does a little jazz hands effect that is cute but not clarifying.

  “Gifted?”

  “I’m a seer. I have visions of the future,” she says.

  “Wow,” I say, unimpressed. Maybe she is just a flake. “I always thought people who said they could see the future were charlatans.”

  Cassie frowns. “Hmm, I’ve never met any charlatans with second sight. Is that their first or last name?”

  I hesitate, unsure if she’s pulling my leg, but she seems perfectly sincere. Deciding to change the subject, I ask, “So what brings you here?”

  She leans into me and lowers her voice like she’s afraid someone will overhear even though we’re in the middle of nowhere. “Well, my boyfriend refuses to marry me so I figured it was time to dump him and sow my wild oats.”

  “How long have you been dating?” I ask.

  “Since just before the end of the world. We met in high school but then he sacrificed his life and ended up stuck in Hades for eternity. That might seem like a dealbreaker, but we worked through it. For years now I’ve been telling him, ‘I don’t care that you’re technically dead, Greg, I just want to be with you.’ But he says it’s not fair to me, and he loves me too much to turn me into his Persephone. Is that not the dumbest thing you ever heard?”

  “It is,” I say, unable to believe that I not only followed along with this convoluted tale, but can relate to it too. “I think guys just cannot deal with being undead, it messes with their ego or something. My boyfriend is mad at me for saving his life by turning him into a vampire.”

  “OMQ!” Cassie exclaims. “What is wrong with him?” She places a comforting hand on my arm. “Was that the hottie who dropped you off?”

  “No, that was my ex-husband. He’s a fae who was raised human. He cheated on me.”

  “Oh,” Cassie frowns. “You know, I think I might’ve met him a long time ago in Faerieland... You don’t by any chance know Shauna, do you?”

  “I do! Wait…” I’ve been around supes long enough to know the drill. “Let me guess—Mount Olympus Academy?”

  “Yep!” Cassie says, smiling brightly. “You know about it?”

  I sigh. “It keeps popping up.”

  After that Cassie and I have a good chat. It turns out that while she is human, she was raised on-campus of the supernatural academy, and had no contact with the outside world while she was growing up—which explains her conversational flubs. We share names of people we both know—Nico, Hepa. She drops a few names I d
on’t recognize—Jordan, Edie—and I realize that if I pump this girl, there’s a chance she even knows about the mystery ex of Nico’s that took his eye.

  I’m about to ask when the fuck bus finally arrives. It actually has Fuck Bus written on the side.

  We gather our things, I juggle my suitcase and the broom, and Shit trots at my heels as the doors unfold for us.

  “Here we go,” Cassie says. “Are you ready to twist your brains out?”

  “Screw,” I correct her. “You’ll screw your brains out.”

  She grins, “You bet I will.” She climbs onto the bus and I follow behind her wondering if our joining this cult means that we have any brains at all.

  11

  I sit next to Cassie on the bus, joining a handful of other people that must have been picked up at other stops. There’s a middle-aged white dude who is probably all-in because of a mid-life crisis, and a soccer mom who keeps checking her reflection. Her hair is perfect, her boobs are perky, and her pants are tighter than my vagina. I can’t help but look at her and wonder if anyone at this sex cult is even going to look at me twice—then I remind myself that I’m not actually here to get laid. I’m checking in on the well-being of my client’s sister, Vicky, and assuring him that everything at Together We Come is on the up and up.

  Cassie catches me glancing at the soccer mom and reaching over my broom, gives my leg a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry about a thing. Boys will want to bang you. Girls will want to bang you. Mermaids will want to bang you.”

  “How does that work?” I ask, honestly interested.

  “Oh, I can explain in detail,” Cassie says, her eyes lighting up. “My first boyfriend was a merman. Technically, mermaids are a type of shifter,” Cassie explains, and then goes into the long tale of woe about how her first boyfriend died when monsters attacked Mount Olympus Academy during the supe equivalent of prom.

  “It was horrible,” Cassie’s eyes fill with tears as if it were yesterday.