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

by Kate Karyus Quinn

  I don’t want to touch him. I don’t want to get any closer in this already small and way too confined space. But also I don’t want Nico to think I’m grossed out by his missing eye. Somehow I just know that would hurt his feelings—though I’m equally sure he’d hide it.

  Nico closes his eyes and then lifts his chin, almost daring me to refuse.

  Holding my breath, I inch closer, stretching out my hand until gently, I brush my fingers across the ridge of his eyebrow. I expect to feel the edge of his eyepatch, but instead I encounter a rough ridge of scar tissue. It’s strange to see with my eyes a perfectly smooth expanse of skin while my fingertips communicate something entirely different to my brain.

  I could pull away now, but I don’t. Instead, I allow my touch to wander down, to the place where his eye would’ve been. There’s a deep hollow here, the skin sunken in with nothing behind to support it. And more scar tissue. Unthinkingly, I softly stroke it.

  I’m still processing the whole Nico wanted to kill his ex thing...but at the same time, I know how it feels to be betrayed by someone you love. There were definitely times when I wanted to kill Jax. Actually, when I first found out he cheated on me, I chased him through the house with a cast iron skillet. And if he hadn’t flown out of reach, I wouldn’t have hesitated to put a dent in his thick skull.

  Broken relationships leave scars on everyone. I’m still trying to get the last bit of infection to ooze out of the wounds Jax left. But Nico’s hurt is more permanent than most. Every time he looks in the mirror, he must remember how quickly love can turn to hate.

  “Poor Nico,” I breath the words out in a low whisper.

  He jerks away, both eyes coming open. Without a word, he shoots to his feet and begins pacing the room. “Fill me in on where you’re at with the investigation,” he says, his voice all business now.

  I stare at him, torn between an odd sense of hurt and annoyance. I was actually being nice to him—for once—and he ran away like his tail was on fire. I guess my show of sympathy was more than his super macho self could take. If we were friends, I’d tell him, ‘Look dude, your girlfriend took your eye out and that sucks and I’m sorry that happened to you. Accepting someone’s pity doesn’t make you pitiful.’

  Honestly, I doubt that would get through to him. And Nico doesn’t seem to let anyone get close enough to him to deliver these types of hard truths. Even if he wasn’t a supe—this is why I’ll never sleep with him. He’s so closed off and if we knocked boots, I wouldn’t be happy until I also knocked down some of those walls. Which would only end up with both of us being miserable.

  Better to keep things professional.

  Arms crossed, Nico has taken up the space at the center of the yurt, like it’s his command station. It’s hard to keep things strictly business when he’s in nothing but his underwear. Instead of undressing him with my eyes, I’m trying to do the opposite and imagine him with more clothing on.

  It’s impossible, though. I can’t stop my gaze from wandering again and again to his package confidently on display beneath the tight spandex.

  Turning away, I sit on the cot and then look down at my feet as if they’ll help me recount the events of the last day. Quickly, I go through everything, including the weird incident with Kama and the chocolate bar, and also the Giselle/Adorra meeting I overheard. Nico is silent throughout, although he does let loose a sharp laugh when I mention Priapus.

  “Also your sex-ed teacher?” I ask. “Cassie was freaked out about him seeing her here.”

  “If he goes near her, I’ll rip his dick off,” Nico snarls. The vehemence is so surprising. I feel another one of those irrational flares of jealousy. “If there’s something shady going on, he could be part of it. I’ll find him this afternoon and twist his balls until he talks.”

  With anyone else, I’d think that was a colorful euphemism, but I’m pretty sure Nico’s telling me exactly what he’s going to do. Not wanting any part of that, I volunteer to look into the chocolate thing more and also try to get hold of Adorra’s tablet. From what she said to Giselle, I feel like any secrets this place might have could very well be found there.

  “All right,” Nico says, heading toward the door. “Let’s meet up again after dinner tonight and compare notes.”

  I agree and then can’t resist adding, “You going to the swimming hole now?”

  “Wanna join me?” he asks, turning back toward me, a wicked curve to his lips. “The other two girls seemed friendly. I don’t think they’d mind sharing me.”

  “Ugh, get over yourself, Nico Tralano. If you recall, I have a lot of work to do now.”

  He shrugs. “Suit yourself,” and then with a wink, he heads out.

  I collapse onto my cot after he’s gone, for the first time wanting to put my Thunderstick to use. Which is crazy. Twenty-four hours in the midst of a sex cult and the first time I feel truly turned on is after fighting with Nico.

  20

  My yurt smells like Nico, which is not an easy musk to escape. It’s like passion and angst all bottled into too small of an area for a person to breathe. And I need to keep breathing, because there’s work to do.

  Adorra’s tablet seems to be the best lead I have. Technically, I was hired to locate Vicky and make sure she’s here by choice—which she very clearly informed me she is. Even so, my mind isn’t entirely at ease. Vicky might be here of her own free will, but I’m not sure that free will is leading anywhere good. Between her and Seraphina being assigned to a non-specific “lab” that isn’t included on the chore list, and Adorra giving me suspicious side-eye, I’ve got questions.

  But the biggest one has to do with Giselle. The past has taught me that wherever that woman goes, trouble follows. Whatever connections she has with this cult, I’m going to find out what they are. And I think the only place to find that information is on Adorra’s tablet…which I’ve never seen out of her hands.

  Trailing a witch around a supernatural cult doesn’t seem like the smartest thing to do, but right now my only other option is joining Nico and his girls for some water play which…kind of makes my stomach bottom out. I don’t ask myself too many questions about why, I just grab my broom and head out.

  I surreptitiously sweep the front steps of the mansion about fifty times, much to the annoyance of the people in line for the phone. With Adorra nowhere in sight, I put my energies into the wraparound porch instead, all the while keeping my eyes and ears open.

  The squad of built dudes assigned to Hairy Underwood’s litter are laid out in the grass, letting the sun warm their already nicely-tanned physiques. Hairy is stalwartly guarding them, one ear falling a little too far to the side for an impression of life to be retained. But Hairy’s retinue is quite alive, and my sweeping takes me closer to their sun-kissed bodies as I become highly intent on the amount of invisible dirt accruing on the back deck. I’m on my third pass of the steps when I hear Adorra’s voice coming from the kitchen.

  “Hairy! Hairy! Where are you, boy?”

  The retinue jumps up, each of them grabbing their section of the litter and actually doing dog-like hops as they climb the steps, Hairy bouncing in unison.

  “Excuse us,” one of the litter-bearers says, as they brush past me. I drop my broom and do the necessary face-plant that Hairy’s presence requires. Something light hits me on the head and bounces onto the boards beneath my hands.

  Hairy’s left ear.

  “Gross,” I say, looking down at its dry, desiccated surface. I pinch it between my fingers and am about to drop it through the slats of the porch when I realize that Hairy Underwood’s ear is my admission to the upstairs of the mansion. I get to my feet, tucking my broom into my elbow and trying not to look disgusted by the taxidermied Dalmanther ear in my hand.

  I wander inside to find the kitchen crew preparing lunch, which looks like it’s going to be a lot of iceberg lettuce and pink-tinged dressing. I don’t ask, simply brushing past everyone and following the galumphing noise of Hairy’s entourage. I
tuck the ear into my shirt pocket and start sweeping again, glancing around corners.

  I finally spot Hairy and his keepers in the entry hallway; the guys have worked up a decent sweat, and no wonder. Kama is perched on the stairs, clapping and laughing gleefully every time Adorra tosses a ball, and the four of them go trotting after it. One of them snags the ball and pops it into Hairy’s mouth, then they do the return gallop back to Adorra, who pats Hairy’s nose, tells him he’s a good boy, and tosses the ball again.

  But her whole attention isn’t on the Dalmanther; it’s on the tablet in her hand. She’s busily pecking away, only glancing up to toss the ball when Hairy returns triumphantly. His retinue might be panting, but the stuffed dog could do this all day.

  “Alright, that’s enough exercise. Now it’s nap time!” Kama announces from the stairs, and at least one of the well-built dudes sighs in relief.

  Adorra glances up from her tablet, then motions for the men to take Hairy upstairs. They follow Kama’s lead, but return immediately, obviously not allowed in the upper rooms of the mansions for long.

  “Adorrrraaaa!” Kama’s voice follows the men down the stairs, and Adorra isn’t quite able to hide her annoyance. Luckily, her voice doesn’t match her face when she replies.

  “Yes, Kama dear?”

  “Didn’t you hear me say it’s nap time?” Kama asks.

  Adorra sighs heavily, actually falling forward to smash her face onto the tablet. But, she takes a rallying breath and moves up the steps. I wait for her to disappear upstairs, then trail her, tiptoeing, my broom tucked in my elbow.

  I just catch a glimpse of Adorra disappearing into a room, and duck into another, peeking around the corner. I jump back quickly when she re-emerges, shutting the door behind her and producing an antique key, firmly locking what I can only assume is her room—and it seems she left the tablet behind.

  Adorra pauses in the hall outside of another room, where the door is cracked open. She takes a moment to gather herself, pulling in a deep breath before putting on a bright smile. I’m debating whether or not it’s worth overhearing whatever is about to go down in Kama’s bedroom when Adorra breezes into the room, her voice light and airy.

  “What story did you decide on for today’s nap time, Kama dear?” Adorra asks.

  There’s a muffled response, and then Adorra’s voice carries into the hall as she begins reading aloud from 101 Dalmatians...but substituting in Dalmanthers. I’m grateful I don’t have to overhear anything sexual while I do my prowling, but also—damn, Kama really is a nutjob for her pet.

  Luckily, Adorra has mostly closed Kama’s door behind her, so I’m able to tiptoe past to her room. I reach into my hair for the magical barrette Hepa had given me, trying to remember the oh-so-helpful spell for unlocking. Hepa had told me with an eye roll that she made sure it rhymed “because humans.” I fumble it into the lock now, repeating the spell.

  “My way is blocked, you must unlock. I have no key, but this door likes me.”

  It is one dumbass spell, but amazingly, I hear a click. The knob turns under my hand and I quickly duck inside, closing the door behind me.

  Adorra’s room is a weird mash-up of everything a supe adult assumes a human adult might like—just all jumbled together. It’s a weird collection of gingham prints and sunflower-themed pictures alongside oddly specific word art. I’ve cleaned houses that are super into the word art decorating trend. They have a big wooden carving of the word GATHER in the family room, while the dining room features similar art encouraging people to EAT.

  Adorra, though, has taken the “explanatory words on the wall” scheme to a whole new level. Above the bed it says Sleep, with a helpful arrow pointing down. The same is true of the closet (Clothes), and the nightstand (it actually says Put Stuff Here). Which is actually pretty helpful because her tablet seems to be included in stuff.

  I grab it, hoping it hasn’t gone into sleep mode already. If she’s got this thing password protected, I’m screwed. Luckily, the screen is still lit when I lift it up—and even open to an email she’d been drafting. An email to Giselle.

  Despite our many differences, I know we are both looking forward to the same outcome for the Humans First rally. Trust me that the chocolate will be ready in time. We may argue often, but in the end we both want the same thing. You and I may have different allegiances, but it’s good to know that we can come together for once, using our shared blood to a good end.

  I roll my eyes at the fact that Adorra uses the phrase “come together” even in email correspondence. But I don’t miss the darker implications, either. What does Adorra have planned for a Humans First rally? Supes hate the Firsters, so there’s no way their desired “outcome” for a rally has to do with raising their rank in the polls. And what the hell does she mean by “shared blood?”

  I scroll down, but there’s nothing more to see.

  Kama’s storytime interrupted Adorra finishing her email to Giselle...Giselle, the wife of a Humans First politician. Quickly, I tap through the tablet untiI I find a browser and do a quick search on my ex—Brent. Sure enough, he’s the head speaker at a Humans First rally back home in New Jersey.

  And it’s scheduled for Sunday, ie, TOMORROW!

  “Yes, I know. Naptime is much better with a snack, isn’t it?” Adorra’s voice comes from the hallway. Quickly, I put the tablet back on her nightstand, wiping the screen first with my shirt tail. I don’t know if they have any type of magical fingerprinting spells, but I’m sure Adorra knows one if it exists. I hit the ground, Hairy Underwood style, as Adorra’s steps move past her room and head for the stairs. My fingers twitch on my broom when I see the family of dust bunnies under her bed, but I don’t have time to fulfill my cleaning urges.

  I pull Adorra’s door shut behind me and slip Hepa’s barrette into the lock. “I’ve done my deed, you’ve filled your need.” The tumbler clicks home and I breathe a sigh of relief. Now if I can just get out of here without anyone—

  “Oh, hello,” Kama says behind me, and I jump, almost dropping my broom.

  “Hello,” I say, turning to her with a huge fake smile. I’m lucky the broom didn’t zip me right into a wall, as badly as she scared me. “I was hoping to find you up here.”

  “Really?” Kama smiles back, apparently pleased at just being wanted.

  “Yes,” I say, reaching into my shirt pocket. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Hairy—”

  “Oh!” Kama’s hand goes to her heart and she snatches his ear out of my palm. “My poor baby boy!”

  “I’m sure it’s fixable,” I say. “I’m pretty sure you can just sew it back on.”

  “Could you do it?” Kama asks, her cold fingers gripping my wrist. “I have a sewing kit in my room, and I know Hairy trusts you. I’d do it myself, but of course he needs someone to comfort him while having such an intense experience.”

  Shit. I try not to think about how intense of an experience I’ll have if Adorra catches me up here, but I also don’t want Kama to lose her mind—loudly. If I can get the ear back on the dog and get downstairs before the witch comes back with the cult-leader’s nap snack...seriously? This is my life now?

  Yes. It is. And I’m currently in it, so I follow Kama obediently to her room where she digs around in an old-fashioned dresser until she comes up with a sewing kit.

  “I think black, don’t you?” she asks, then proceeds to thread the needle without awaiting my response. I take it from her and we both approach Hairy Underwood, where his litter rests in the corner with a pile of blankets.

  “It’s okay, big man,” Kama says, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Paige has found your missing parts and she’s going to put you all back together. She really is a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

  Kama continues to coo into Hairy’s remaining ear, then gives me a tentative wave forward. “I think he’s ready.”

  Which means I guess I am, too. At first the needle doesn’t want to punch through the dead, leathery skin, but once
I put a little force into it, the sewing part isn’t half bad. I ask Kama if she wants it to match the other one—ear forward, in an alert position—or if she’d like this one to be flopped over, more in a relaxed way. She gives it a lot more thought than I’d intended, and I can hear Adorra’s steps in the hall before I’ve finished the last stitch.

  “What in Hades’ bells!” the witch says, stopping cold in the doorway, giving me a look that could kill. Or maybe it can. I make a mental note to ask Nico if I just got cancer from this bitch.

  “Paige found something of Hairy’s, and was returning it to us,” Kama explains, running her hand down his snout. “I’m so grateful for her.”

  Adorra doesn’t bother responding, and instead puts Kama’s snack tray on a dresser and immediately goes down the hall. I hear her door rattle in its frame, but she must be convinced it’s locked, because the death level in her eyes has gone down when she returns.

  “I’m sorry, I had to check something,” Adorra says, eyes still on mine. “What were you saying, Kama?”

  “I found Hairy’s ear,” I interrupt, not wanting to stick around much longer. “I know I’m not supposed to come upstairs, but I figured this was too important to let go.”

  “And you figured correctly,” Kama says, clapping her hands. “Thank you so much for your service. May I offer you something? Oral sex? Chocolate, maybe?”

  “I…” I’m caught off guard by my choices, but the mention of chocolate has my ears perking way higher than Hairy’s ever will again. And Adorra doesn’t miss my reaction. Her eyes narrow at me and I know it’s time to go.

  “Thanks for the offer of, um, cunnilingus and chocolate, but I’m really susceptible to yeast infections. Anyway, I should be going. I’ve got duties, you know!” I heft my broom in my hand in illustration, brushing past Adorra. I’ve just made it into the hall when her words cut me off.

  “I thought you asked to be moved to toilet crew?”