by Cate Lawley
Speaking of exes... “Can’t you approach your ex and ask her to lift the curse?”
“I could, if I was willing to risk a second, perhaps more problematic, curse.” He had the grace to look a little uncomfortable with the answer.
“Is she that mad at you?”
“It’s more a question of control.” His lips twisted into a grimace. “She doesn’t have any. She zapped me before I could even offer her an explanation.”
“Oh? You had a good explanation for chasing her across Central Texas?” I tipped my head and smiled expectantly. It was a little fun making him squirm. It lessened his perfect just a notch and made him seem more approachable.
Not that I thought his ex-fiancée was in the right—or very nice, for that matter. She froze him and left him to rot. Oh yeah, and be shat upon by pigeons. Who did that?
But seeing him squirm was awesome.
Don started to speak, and I had to pry my eyeballs from his bulging biceps. I really needed to get out more—maybe even consider dating—because my hormones were out of control. “Sorry, what was that?”
He smirked, the jerk. He knew exactly why I’d been distracted, which made me wonder if his arm-crossing wasn’t a tactic he was using to unsettle me. Hmm.
“I was saying that I would have liked the opportunity to explain. I’m not normally the kind of guy who throws a woman over my shoulder and makes a run for it.”
The grown-up in me rolled her eyes at his caveman behavior, but the girly-girl woman sighed a little. Hey, give a girl a break. It’s good to have fantasies, even if they’re neither enlightened nor modern.
“Do you think you would have told her the truth? You know, about the whole faux-evil and menacing persona?”
He gave me a curious look. It felt like he was peering into my soul. Or maybe he was sneaking a peek at the cobwebbed corners of my brain, the parts that had to do with attraction and boys—or men, as my grandmama had so insistently encouraged.
Eventually, he said, “No. You’re the only one I’ve been tempted to explain my foolish youth to. There are also certain limitations on who I can share the information with.”
He’d been beyond tempted. He’d flat-out spilled the beans, and that made me feel all warm and fuzzy and special.
You know that girl that everyone liked to tell their life story to? The one who was sympathetic and understanding? The one who was just so easy to talk to?
That girl wasn’t me. That made Don’s sharing of confidences all that much more special.
But back to business. Don needed my magic, and I hadn’t a clue about magic. That seemed a good place to start. And maybe I’d give the not-so-sweet ex a little phone call. Prod her in the butt to give her former guy a break and remove the curse.
If I could figure out what her phone number was. And get the courage to call her, because vengeful demon with cursing abilities.
Clapping my hands together, I said, “Let’s get this party started. You’re going to give me an Intro to Magic course.”
His eyebrows climbed and his lips parted wordlessly, giving him an adorably flustered appearance. After a few heartbeats, he said, “Now?”
“Yes, now. What if my de-bronzing effect wears off? We’re on a schedule, mister. Chop-chop. Let’s start with the glowy thing. What’s up with that? Why do I glow mint green and you glow all rosy pink?”
Again with the smirking. Why was my glow smirk-worthy? I liked mint green. It was pretty.
“Okay. Everyone sees magic, feels magic, differently.” He gestured to my tiny kitchen. “Mind if I help myself to some food? I’m starving. Haven’t eaten in... What’s today?” When I told him, he grimaced. “I haven’t eaten in almost a month. No wonder I’m so hungry.”
I let my gaze wander up and down his very fit form. “You look awfully good for a guy who should be a pile of bones.”
And his smirk was back.
Standing with the fridge door open and piling lunch meats, cheese, and condiments in his delicious arms, he said, “About that glow? Rosy usually means lust.” He toed the fridge closed. “As in the one covered in the rosy hue is the object of lustful thoughts.”
“Eeeeep.” Not sure what I meant to say, but a chirping noise was definitely what came out. Not only was I letting loose with nonsensical sounds, but my face was also on fire. I fanned myself, then realized how that might look and stopped. Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth, said nothing, and then pointed to the bathroom, where I then retreated to splash water on my face.
And the back of my neck and my wrists. Heck, I might just have to take a cold shower.
Bad enough I was in full lust, but to be so blatantly caught out? Baaad.
Don’s voice filtered through the closed door. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. Most people don’t share that particular detail, but you didn’t you know, so—”
“Not helping!”
“Right. Anyway, it’s not like I don’t think you’re completely hot. Because you are. Really hot, I mean. If that’s okay to say.”
I took a breath and poked my head out of the bathroom. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Because even if it was awkwardly worded, it was still a compliment, and my mom raised me to thank a person for any genuinely offered compliment. Besides, I wasn’t sad he thought I was hot. No one thought I was hot. Geeky cute? Yes. Nerdy adorable? Yep. But not hot. Not that they were saying, or implying, or giving any hints about.
One more splash of cold water and a little towel dabbing had me ready to conquer my Intro to Magic lesson. I’d totally get over the embarrassment of being found out to be perving on my new friend. Eventually. And until then, I was faking it until I made it.
But, bonus, while I’d been in the bathroom, I’d hatched a bit of a plan. My new demon buddy had a very human habit: he carried a cell phone. I saw it in his pocket, you know, completely by accident, and definitely not because I was checking out his assets.
He had to have his ex’s number programmed in there, right? He also had to go to the bathroom at some point, right?
Now, how to get him to take his cell out of his pocket and leave it unattended, that was the question. Because I definitely needed to have a little chat with his ex. Surely, she’d get this all sorted when she realized how contrite Don was.
I’d work on the remove-from-pocket angle while we chatted magic. I didn’t have Don’s faith in my magic—the magic woo-woo I’d discovered lurking inside me a whole two seconds ago. He might think I could break his curse, but I had more faith in my skills of persuasion.
All I had to do was convince Don’s ex that he was a decent guy who’d made a mistake. That seemed infinitely more doable. After all, I’d been living my own hate-on for men for a while now. That was a language I spoke with some proficiency.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Project phone retrieval turned out to be a piece of cake.
Literally.
I asked the time, and since Don didn’t wear a watch, he pulled out his phone. Thank goodness for small favors—or magic—the thing still worked after almost a month tucked up against his bronzed self.
While he read off the time and then listened to me opine on all things jet-lag and time-zone related that I could think of, I shoved a piece of cake—German chocolate that I’d been saving for later—into his face and (very politely) relieved him of his phone and placed it on the counter.
Then I used the ladies to distract him. That’s right, a little back arching and deep breathing did the trick, and he forgot all about his phone.
He said I was hot. How could I pass up the opportunity to use my awesome (okay, dusty) feminine wiles?
I slipped the phone into a kitchen drawer and then expressed more enthusiasm about my magic lesson than my sister when confronted with the candy-coated, chocolatey goodness that are M&M’s. She only allowed herself one small bag of M&M’s a month, silly girl. Of course she lost her mind when she saw them.
We skipped over the lust glow—naturally. Don wasn’t an idi
ot—but we did discuss curses, and genetic power (the kind a magical person was born with) versus acquired power (the kind that was stolen, bought, or inherited).
We assumed I had the genetic variety, since I hadn’t been out and about terrorizing other magical beings and stealing the magical equivalent of their lunch money.
Neither had I bought any curse-breaking spells from a friendly neighborhood witch. Like I knew any witches.
And so far as I knew, I hadn’t come into any magic through the death of an immediate family member. If my faery grandmother had kicked it, Don thought my mom would be the most likely to get any juice she might have left to family, and he wasn’t even sure if faeries could bequeath power.
“Have you talked to your mother?” Don asked as if it was natural and simple. “She must have some magic, or you wouldn’t have inherited any.”
“My mom and I don’t talk about magic.”
“But you know she’s part faery and that you’re part faery.”
I nodded.
“And she knows that you know?”
I followed his logic, but that didn’t change the facts. “My grandparents and mom both know. The only one who doesn’t is my sister. But knowing doesn’t mean we chat about it. My mom lied to my dad about having magic. Or she hid it from him, which is a kind of lying. She thought if she never used it, it wouldn’t be an issue.” I shrugged at his skeptical look. “I know. We’ve all seen Bewitched, right? That whole abstaining thing never quite works out. But she says she can’t do anything fancy, just a few silly tricks, and she doesn’t miss using it.”
I had my doubts as to whether that was true, but again, we didn’t talk magic, so we didn’t discuss it.
“How does her denial of her abilities translate to you guys not speaking about magic?” Don had finished his food a while ago, but his eyes kept straying to the dishes. I’d told him I would wash them later, but he finally gave in to a cleaning compulsion that I didn’t quite get and started to wash them. “I’m still listening.”
“Uh, okay, and thanks. So, she gets the disappearing flu—”
“The what?”
“Um, you know, flu symptoms, but also when you sneeze, you disappear for a few seconds?” I pushed my glasses up my nose. I hadn’t thought much about it, but I’d given these bizarre symptoms a name ages ago, because it was just weird not to know the name of the illness that basically split your parents up. Well, the uncovering of a lie split them up, but most directly, it was the disappearing flu.
“I think you mean a cold. Or maybe a flu. When we get sick, sometimes our magic misbehaves.”
I gave him a one-eyed, squinty look. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see—if he was fibbing?—but all I saw was the same rosy glow, and also an orange one. They were side by side and melded into each other. The effect was quite pretty. I shook my head, dismissing the aesthetics, and concentrated on the feel instead.
Honesty, truth, the American way, blah, blah. I was basically getting very Clark Kent-like vibes from him. Nifty that it worked, but also weird.
He didn’t say a word, just waited for me to finish my inspection. I’d have to figure out how to be more discreet, because I suspected I was exhibiting some fairly bad magic manners.
“Right, so you’re saying my mom’s magic misbehaved when she got the flu, meaning she could always disappear and reappear. The flu just made her lose control of that particular, uh, skill?”
He nodded as he dried his plate.
“Huh, so either Mom doesn’t know, or she’s a big ol’ fibber.”
He tipped his head from side to side, but then eventually—reluctantly—nodded.
A huge whoosh of air escaped my lungs. “Awesome. Whatever. I’ll deal with her later. Basically, what all this means is that Mom isn’t a fan of magic, because she blames it for breaking up her marriage. She’s still in denial of the fact that it was perhaps incompatibility between the two of them that was the root cause. I mean, if ever a guy existed who wouldn’t be down with magic, it’s Herbert.”
Don snorted. “Your dad’s name is Herbert?”
Which made me smile like a madwoman. “Yep. Terrible, right?”
“Well, only because he sounds like he wasn’t the greatest dad. But yeah, a little terrible,” said the guy whose name was Abaddon.
Take that, Pops.
Once we’d both recovered from the joke that was my father’s name (but really was both of us being awkward and weird about my dad being a lackluster father), Don said, “Let’s assume your faery grandmother didn’t bequeath any magic to your mom, sister, or you.”
I nodded. Probably true, and definitely preferred. Who knew what gift a cranky faery grandmother whose child had been snatched from her would bequeath to her estranged grandchildren? That wasn’t an inheritance I’d be keen to receive.
“Your mom can disappear, so you’ve got that as a possibility.” Don tipped his head. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever—”
“No, Don. I have not disappeared myself. I am not the invisible woman.” And before he could ask, I added, “And I’ve had the flu, and chicken pox, and any number of colds. No disappearing.”
“Right. Well, that wouldn’t have explained how you bent my curse, anyway.”
If the only way I’d figure out what kind of magic I had was through family connection, I was in trouble. I hadn’t a clue what kind of magic my mother could do and didn’t see her fessing up to hidden talents if quizzed.
But before I could get too peevish over my mom’s failure to acknowledge her nature, Don saved the day with a bathroom break.
Okay, that sounded weird. Basically, if demons drank a ton of tea, they had to pee just like mortals. As he disappeared into my tiny bathroom, I called out, “Just gonna grab something from the car. Be right back.”
I snatched the phone I’d hidden in a kitchen drawer and hoofed it outside. It took me a total of a five seconds to find Annabeth’s number, and three of those were me raising my eyes heavenward and thanking the gods Don hadn’t password-protected his phone.
It rang four times, and just when I thought I’d get the infamous Annabeth’s voicemail, a man answered. A man with a lovely, though faint, Irish accent.
“I should send you to another dimension, you persistent thug, but I’ve promised my baby sister not to do that sort of magic anymore.”
“Um, you’re not Annabeth.” Brilliant, I know. But I had this whole spiel (sort of) prepared, about how she should just give me a few minutes of her time and together we could both make the world a better place. Garbage, yes, but I needed a hook to keep her on the phone.
Except she hadn’t answered.
“Indeed. This is her fiancé, Michael.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
A woman hollered in the distance, “Boyfriend.” Her voice got clearer, so she must have been approaching this Michael fellow. “Don’t lie. Those rumors spread like wildfire. You’ll have Dad up for a visit in no time.”
“Uh, okay, Michael. This is Kayla Co—” I stopped abruptly. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to give magical people, especially the sort who dated vengeful demons, my full name. “This is Kayla. I’m a friend of Don’s.”
“We can’t help. Sorry.” Michael did not sound sorry.
“Wait!” I hollered, because he was definitely hanging up on me. I glanced over my shoulder at the front door of my cabin, but Don didn’t emerge. “Please, at least let me talk to Annabeth.”
I scooted around my rental and crouched down by the tire, just in case Don got curious and came outside to check on me. As I was settling into my hiding spot, a loud, masculine, you-have-reached-the-end-of-my-patience sigh came across the line. “Really, there’s nothing we can do, but I’ll let Annabeth know that Don’s friend Kayla called.”
Jerk. Like I didn’t know Annabeth was right there.
After a few thumps and some muffled cursing, a breathless woman said, “Hi, this is Annabeth. You can ignore my bossy fian—uh, boyfriend.”
Thank
goodness for nosy exes. Before she could lose interest—or possession of her phone to her fiancé—I updated her in a scrambled rush. “Don is temporarily un-bronzed by accident by me because I don’t know anything about magic and I don’t know how I did it and he’s really a nice guy under his faux-evil and menacing persona, which is actually a really funny story, and I was hoping you’d consider un-bronzing him.” I sucked in a quick breath. “Permanently.”
Silence followed. Like, the weird, awkward, “oops, I shouldn’t have said that” kind. Bonus: she didn’t hang up.
After enough time passed for me to retrieve what I’d said, replay it once, and feel my entire body blush, she said, “Awwww. You’re too cute. Are you guys dating?”
“What?” The question came out slightly better than a bird’s chirp, but it was similar sounding. I cleared my throat and, in a much lower tone, said, “No. Don and I are not currently dating. I just met him.”
“When you un-bronzed him?” She sighed, except this was nothing like Michael’s impatient exhalation. This had romantic, girly overtones nestled in it.
Naturally, I chose this particular moment to recall exactly how I’d un-bronzed oh-so-hot Don, and my temperature ticked up another few degrees. I fanned my face, glad that the man himself wasn’t here to see me all hot and bothered.
“It was an accident. I, you know, touched him, when he was a statue.” That sounded super pervy, which I totally deserved, because it had been a bit.
“Really? And that broke the curse? What kind of magic did you use?” She sounded curious and not at all upset that her vengeful demon curse hadn’t weathered my touch. Interesting.
“Not a clue. I didn’t know I could break curses. Or, actually, bend them. That’s why I’m calling. Don didn’t think I should, so I stole his phone.”
She whooped with laughter. Once she had control of her giggles, she said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. Go on. Oh! Wait, do you know Baba Yaga?”
“Uh, the Slavic boogeyman Baba Yaga? Yeah, no.” What the what? Did that mean the mean chick riding on the mortar and pestle was really real? Not comforting—and also not pertinent to the conversation. “So can you help?”