“Dowser.”
McGrowly had some speech or warning ready for me, but I cut him off with a snapped, “Bathroom.” Then I crossed toward the minimart. I could see the cashier inside texting or playing a game on his phone. I wasn’t sure if the bathrooms were inside or not. They weren’t, but I needed a key.
The clerk’s wide-eyed look was self-explanatory once I got a glance at myself in the bathroom mirror. Jesus. I had dirt and fir needles — or whatever — practically embedded in my curly blond hair. The word ‘bedraggled’ was coined for this look.
I — vainly, I know — really, really hoped I hadn’t looked this bad when I’d plastered myself to Desmond in the forest.
And now that I’d opened that floodgate … what the hell was up with that? I couldn’t stand McGrowly. Granted, I hadn’t laid eyes on him since he’d cut some sort of protection deal with Gran after Sienna died.
Maybe Sienna wasn’t dead.
Hope bloomed as it always did when I considered this option, but I stuffed it back down deep into my heart. Yeah, and maybe she hadn’t murdered all the people she’d admitted to killing. And maybe we could play Barbies, and steal cigarettes from her mom, and everything would be idyllic again.
Right.
Sienna was dead. I’d seen and felt her dissolve in the magic of the portal. And I was left here, not only practically friendless, but also utterly disgusted by my own willful ignorance.
Maybe that was why I’d kissed McGrowly. I wanted to be willful in a deliberate direction. I wanted some sort of control over my life again.
It had nothing to do with his delicious magic or his muscles or his extreme manliness. In fact, he was too muscled, too in-your-face manly —
Kett, with nary a pine needle or smudge of dirt in his white blond hair, opened the bathroom door and walked in.
I was damn sure I’d locked it behind me.
My brain did the automatic check it did every time I saw Kett now.
Skin? Pale, but normally so.
Eyes? Ice blue, not tinged with or fully blood red.
Teeth? Straight, white, but not pointy,
So this was a friendly bathroom-barge, not a dinner visit. The vampire had a thing for following me into bathrooms. He liked to intimidate on an intimate level.
“The men’s is next door,” I said. I’d brushed all the leaves and dirt from my hair while wallowing, so that now I was leaning over the sink and trying to splash some water on my face. The automatic taps made this simple task a slapstick joke. I never liked that kind of humor, and I certainly didn’t like it happening to me.
“I can break the bond,” Kett said.
I looked up. My face was dripping with cold water. “Excuse me?” A vampire breaking a life debt bond sounded like bad news, not good. I always needed bad news repeated. I was a glutton for punishment that way.
“I can break the life debt bond between you and the shifter.”
I straightened very slowly, though whether that was to not startle the vampire or because my brain was working overtime, I didn’t know.
Three months ago — after conversations that had taken place while I was sleeping and dreaming of returning to a peaceful life at my bakery — my grandmother made a deal with McGrowly. Gran was royally pissed that Desmond had extracted a life debt from me because he blamed me for Hudson’s death. This magic, I had gathered since, was at his command because of how pack structure functioned for an alpha.
Problem was, the life debt hadn’t dissolved like it should have after Sienna’s death, and the reasons for that were still up for interpretation. Now that we were slowly figuring out how my magic worked, it seemed likely that the debt had been inadvertently sealed by both of us — not just by Desmond, as was usual. And my magic was an unknown quantity. As was my literal interpretation of what exactly I owed Desmond.
Yes, my guilt might be maintaining the bond.
The thing was, while Gran was extracting promises from the Alpha of the West Coast North American Pack, my mother was forging a relationship with a vampire — namely Kett. Yes, my mother loved to defy Gran. And Gran, like all witches — actually, like all other Adepts in general — loathed vampires. But Kett knew about my magic. And my magic — focused and refined — could make powerful people more powerful than anyone should be, according to Gran. Vampires were big on accumulating power and knowledge.
So, short of killing him — which I’m sure Gran decided would draw too much attention from the Conclave — a bargain had to be forged with Kett. My mother’s solution had been to make him my mentor. Gran didn’t talk to her daughter for two weeks after she found out Scarlett had made this deal. In fact, my mother was currently living in my second bedroom rather than staying at Gran’s as she usually did. Their estrangement dated back to before I was born, the reasons for which I wasn’t entirely sure. But giving birth to me at sixteen — a child of unknown magical origins — had certainly cemented the divide between mother and daughter.
“You have remained silent for three minutes, dowser,” Kett said. “I believe that might be a record of some sort.”
Great, the vampire was attempting a joke. I was fairly certain that was one of the signs of the apocalypse.
“I’m thinking.”
“That is obvious.”
“Well, then, just leave me to it.”
Kett inclined his head in the way he did when he was only pretending to acquiesce.
Gran had forbidden me to associate with the vampire. She’d been very clear that vampires held no loyalty, not even to their own kind. That vampires’ morals were muddy, and their code of conduct indecipherable. This argument only escalated when I told Gran that I had saved Kett’s undead life.
She had warned me then to forget what she called my error in judgement. “You don’t know what a vampire would do to fulfill a life debt like that,” she said. “He might decide that your very life is endangering you. That you’re better off dead. Or worse than dead, if it’s in his power to turn you.”
So, piece that all together with the vampire’s offer, and the fact that all — all — vampire magic was based in blood, and what did I get? Well, clammy hands and a racing heart for one.
I washed those clammy hands. That gave me an excuse to turn away from Kett. The water had dried on my face, making my skin tight, so I washed it a second time. Then I patted everything dry, including the counter — more stalling — with a paper towel.
Kett was doing his ice statue impression. He could stay like that for hours, never taking his eyes off me.
I cleared my throat, which was a bad opening because it drew his attention to my neck. “That is a generous offer —”
“I’m not attempting to gain permission to bite you.”
“Ah, so biting would be involved.”
“An exchange of blood, yes.”
A spike of fear ricocheted up my spine as I ignored the impulse to run. He was effectively blocking the door, and I’d already broken my nose running into him once today.
“A bond with me would be nothing to fear, dowser.” Kett’s voice dropped into the soothing tones he sometimes used to get me to perform magic. I actually hated it when he acted so human. It blurred all the wrong lines for me.
“You want me to exchange a bond with McGrowly for one with you?”
“The bond with the shifter is malfunctioning. He is young and ill equipped to deal with it.”
Okay, if he was referring to the kiss, how the hell did he know about it? Had he and Desmond been exchanging conquest stories while I was freaking out about them possibly slaughtering skinwalkers?
Kett didn’t step closer. That was good, seeing as I was already gripping the sink so tightly I might rip it out of the wall. His tone became more intimate, though. “It would be pleasurable if you wished, Jade. And the blood would be only a drop or two.”
My gaze dropped to his neck. I remembered Sienna slashing his skin open, his blood spurting into my sta
inless steel mixing bowl. Then my sister had gulped that blood like it was cold chocolate milk on a summer day.
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. I was haunted from within — haunted by everything my sister did, and everything I didn’t stop her from doing.
Cool fingers brushed across my cheekbone. “It is not a one-time offer, dowser. When you want the bond broken, I believe my magic can break it.”
I nodded and opened my eyes. He was standing so close that I could see flecks of red in his eyes like bloody ice shards. I blinked and the red was gone, leaving only pure blue behind. The bathroom air was thick with his pepperminty magic.
“You’re not trying to influence me, are you Kett?” I asked.
A frown creased his brow, replaced microseconds later with his cool demeanor. “You know that type of magic doesn’t work with you, dowser.”
“And if I let you bite me …”
“Yes?”
“You could tell me who my father is? Or at least what his magic is?”
“If I have tasted it before.”
“Are there many of the Adept you haven’t tasted?” Was I really having this conversation? As if blood was fine wine?
“Not many. And those of power who I haven’t tasted, aren’t likely to be your biological father. The Adept do not interbreed across species very successfully.”
“You’ve made a list and checked it twice?”
“Yes.”
“And who are the likely candidates? For father of the year?”
Kett fell silent as he always did when confronted with a question he either didn’t want to answer or — heaven forbid — didn’t know the answer to. And there was the itchy rub. If Gran and Scarlett hadn’t figured out what kind of Adept my father was in all these years, then how the hell was a vampire going to know?
“You overplayed your hand, vampire,” I said. Then I very deliberately stepped to the side, around Kett, and walked to the exit.
“You upped the ante yourself, dowser. Not I,” Kett’s cool tone was firmly in place again.
The door banged open and nearly hit me. I jumped back a step.
Desmond filled — literally — the frame of the doorway. He was doing a scowling-but-inscrutable thing with his face. He glanced from me to Kett over my shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “Caught up to us, vamp?”
“Apparently,” Kett replied.
Completely blocked by Desmond and all but trapped in the bathroom, I noticed the way the magic built between the shifter and the vampire. I supposed my magic must be somewhere in the middle, but all I could taste was dark chocolate and peppermint on either side of me. One pressed from the front and the other from the back, never touching, never mixing as the magic continued to build. The shifter and the vampire just stared at each other with me caught in between, like, like … oh, God. This was awkward and uncomfortable, but so … so … tasty.
I twined my fingers into the wedding ring charms on my necklace and tried to center myself within its magic. It helped. Problem was, magic was about intention, and my body didn’t intend the same as my mind.
“Do you really want a broken life debt hanging over you?” I blurted.
“No,” McGrowly answered. “But it’s not the vampire’s place to fix it.”
I frowned. Had he been listening into my bathroom conversation? That wasn’t creepy at all.
“Nor,” Desmond continued, “can he tell you who your father is. We’ve had this conversation, vampire.”
“We disagreed,” Kett said. He stepped closer to me. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel his magic move.
Desmond’s mouth twitched as if he was fighting the urge to speak. Then he said, “We will settle the bond, dowser. I wouldn’t have come back to Vancouver without that intention. I was simply unaware you’d be in peril at the time of my arrival.” This last bit was glared at Kett, but the vampire didn’t respond.
“I’ll drive,” Desmond said as he turned away. He’d bought a ‘Super, Natural BC’ T-shirt from the minimart. On anyone else, it would have been a vast source of amusement, but my eyes mourned the sight of his naked backside. I’d never seen an ass like that before. It suited him, since he was such a colossal ass himself.
“I still need to use the washroom,” I said to Desmond’s too-wide back. Then I turned to glare at the vampire. I wasn’t peeing in front of him.
A smile ghosted over Kett’s face as he slid by me out of the bathroom. “The offer still stands, dowser.”
“Yeah, I get it. My blood will always be a rare treat.”
“Indeed,” Kett laughed. His voice was soft and so, so human, emanating from the darkness between the light of the bathroom and the overhead lights at the pumps. “You will find I have endless patience and endless time.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a promise, so I just shut and locked the door on both possibilities.
Freaking vampires and shapeshifters with their tasty magic and arrogant pissing contests. I wasn’t some prize. Okay, I was a prize, but I wasn’t some toy. Not for either of them, at least.
∞
By the time I climbed into the back seat of the SUV, things between Kett in the front passenger seat and Desmond in the driver’s seat had cooled to glacial levels. I didn’t mind at all. Kandy, still in wolf form, snuggled next to me and radiated the heat of a small volcano. The iciness between the two predators in the front somehow dampened their magical aura. So things were better all around.
The werewolf nosed something against my hand. A chocolate bar. A 70-percent single-origin chocolate bar from Venezuela, to be exact. The packaging was a bit battered by tooth and claw, but it was chocolate and I was in desperate need.
“Ha,” I whispered. “You’ve been holding out on me. And developing expensive habits.”
The wolf rested her head on my thigh as I tried to not simply tear off the wrapper and inhale the slightly melted bar whole. This kind of chocolate was meant to be savored, and the act of eating it should help calm me down. I broke off a piece and just let it sit on my tongue. It was smooth and creamy, with a cashew undertone that was divine and addictive.
Wary of her inch-and-a-half long canine teeth, I offered Kandy a square. She took it from me delicately. I figured if her werewolf metabolism could burn off skinwalker spells then a little chocolate wouldn’t kill her. I wondered again why she didn’t change back. Maybe the transformation was exhausting?
“Maybe you just helped yourself to this bar out of my personal stash, hey wolf?”
Kandy pawed at me and I laughed. Then I gave her a second piece.
Desmond caught my gaze in the rearview mirror while I was still smiling. “You going to share that?” he asked. “Or is there some sort of BFF club going on in the back seat?”
My smile fell, and not because McGrowly saying ‘BFF’ was ridiculous. Sienna was — had been — my BFF. Sienna who had tried to kill every single person in this car.
Desmond actually looked concerned for me. His green-flecked eyes reflected … what? Pity? Because I was walking around completely and utterly aware that the object of my pain was — according to the rational world — utterly underserving of my love?
He shouldn’t be looking at me. He should be paying attention to the road. I dropped my gaze, snapped another piece off the bar, and passed it over his shoulder. He took it, and thankfully didn’t try to engage me further.
“The Grand Council,” Kett said. His cool voice was a balm to my aching soul. “Which, as you noted correctly in the forest, is comprised of representatives from all the major species of the Adept, is overseen by what governing body?”
“There is no higher authority,” Desmond snapped. “The Grand Council itself barely exists.”
I could actually hear the way the chocolate coated McGrowly’s tone. Which would have been cool, except for the fact that it meant I was far too intimate with the sound of his voice.
“The question was for the dowser
, shifter,” Kett replied. “Your ignorance is well earned. Hers can be rectified.”
I snapped off another piece of chocolate and wished I could see beyond the headlights of the SUV. This was a beautiful drive in the daylight or at sunset.
“Teach her something useful, vampire. Like how to fight or focus her alchemist powers.”
“Everything has a time and place. The dowser already had a lesson in both those disciplines today.”
Desmond’s gaze returned to the rearview. I kept mine pointed out the side window. “You made a magical object today?” he asked.
I didn’t like the almost imperceptible eager edge to his question.
“She rescued you, didn’t she, shifter? Did you find the bindings of the skinwalkers easy to break?”
“I didn’t bother testing them,” Desmond said, a growl on the edges of his tone. “The dowser was handy with the knife. That was simple and quick.”
Kett — his point made, I imagine — dropped the conversation. Or he just lapsed into one of his fugue states. I got the feeling that we all bored the hell out of him most of the time. We moved and thought too slowly, ponderously. I know I did.
“Has Kandy’s magic been affected by the skinwalkers?” I directed the question to whoever would answer, lightly petting the short hairs on Kandy’s forehead and nose.
“No,” Desmond answered. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to elaborate. He cast a look at Kett, who didn’t stir, then shook his head as if in disbelief that a vampire was sitting next to him. Like I’d said, the Adept didn’t like sharing information. And they really didn’t like sharing information with vampires. “She’s demoralized. The wolf form makes her feel more powerful, and it’s … simpler.”
Trinkets, Treasures, and Other Bloody Magic Page 6