Poison and Potions: a Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Erin Hayes

  "Mr. Hannock?" A woman in her late forties approached him. His housekeeper. "A message was delivered all it said was 'be ready, one hour.'"

  "Yes, thank you."

  She departed and he smiled. It was almost too good to be true.

  A few moments passed as he sipped his drink in silence. Maybe when it was all over he’d take the little bitch anyway. Prudence or Constance, whatever her name was. He could take her for his whore and destroy every part of her for anyone else. He realized he might be jealous of the Reaper. She gave that man so easily what he himself had to work for, even if it was never real..

  Her acting had been phenomenal. The way she’d slapped him after he tried to drug her. Genius move. He’d wanted her more in that moment than any woman he’d laid eyes on. But her Reaper...Noah had seen the love in his eyes the first night and knew he had the chance he’d been waiting for. He’d played along with them, intent on taking their souls, never dreaming they were church officials until his informant arrived. It made the entire situation so much easier. He had the means, the men, and it was time to see it through.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Connie stared down at her forearm, the fake mark ugly against her skin. It looked weird and felt even worse; unnatural and dirty, like she’d spent the night sucking back cigarettes.

  "I don’t like this, Mikon," she said, as they rode back to the hotel.

  "I know, but it’s only for a short time until we can catch Noah. Hopefully you can bag him tonight. I hate to tell you this, but maybe turn up the erm...charms."

  Connie frowned at him severely. "You want me to sleep with him?"

  "Goodness, no, Constance. Just pretend like you will and get what you need out of him. As a man addicted to your wiles, I know they are hard to resist when you actually try to get attention with them."

  "Mikon, are you remarking on my breasts?"

  His eyes grew round like he knew he stood on dangerous ground. "Just all of you. You’re intoxicating Connie." He reached out and grasped her hand, lifting it for a kiss.

  Connie only allowed it because she knew for some reason she was geared up for a fight with him. Which might not be a bad thing since they could try the make-up sex.

  "Why do you want to fight with me today?"

  She grinned. He knew.

  "I don’t know. It seems to be my default when I’m nervous and I doubt we are going to pull this off, even more so with this thing on my arm."

  "What do the fathers say when you feel like this?"

  She took a deep cleansing breath and thought of Father Reynolds' melodic voice. "Father Reynolds says 'God will provide.'"

  "Then trust it and stop worrying about it."

  "But I’m so much more damn fragile now."

  "Then take your service weapon."

  "A knife is not going to help me against these people. I honestly wouldn’t put it past them to have guns."

  "You think so?"

  She shrugged. The operation was intense by the look of Noah’s club. It wasn't just the dancing girls. She’d also noticed prostitutes leading men to back rooms and the illegal booze they'd served at the bar. She hadn’t seen any guns, but not many had them these days. Once the war ended the church banned them all and destroyed any they could find. It had been a mortal sin to carry one since the late 2000’s.

  "It’s possible."

  "Well, you know how to fight. They think you’re a socialite, not a church investigator. It’ll give you an advantage."

  Mikon had a point. They expected a frail and fragile woman, not a tried and tested investigator. It would buy enough time to get away if the situation required. Resolve settled low in her gut, and she recalled the picture of Noah’s last victim. No, she would bring this bastard down if it happened to be the last thing she did.

  She sighed, letting out a long breath on her exhale. "I can do this. I will do this."

  He grabbed her face, almost in a bruising grip forcing her to look at him. "You will not get yourself killed. That is not an option. Do you understand?"

  The midnight quality had entered his tone.

  "It’s not exactly what I would choose, Mikon."

  "If it comes down to you taking him down or you living? Let. Him. Go."

  She swallowed and stared into his beautiful eyes. "I’ll do what I need to. You have to accept that this is me. This is who I am. I believe in what I do to the depths of my soul and I know you can see it when you look at me. So how can you ask me to go against something in my very nature?"

  He pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. "I know," he whispered. "I wish I could make you see. Tell you—"

  The car jolted violently, throwing the pair against the far door. Connie had enough time to hold on to Mikon as the vehicle rolled over and slid into building.

  Connie blinked back the haze that threatened to drag her under and looked to Mikon, who had his arm pressed over the front of her chest.

  He met her eyes and she knew a bone deep relief. "You okay?" he asked.

  "Yeah, fine," she said.

  Mikon slid his hand up to the driver, and touched his neck. He bowed his head and then the driver woke gasping for breath. Mikon whispered softly,"it’s okay. You’re safe," in an effort to comfort the recently deceased man.

  Mikon sat back and unsnapped his belt, before pushing past Connie to open the door. She climbed out ahead of him, but stayed crouched behind the car. No telling who or what was out there and why they’d gotten in an accident. Not enough people drove cars for there to be accidents.

  Connie slid over so Mikon could get out and hide behind the toppled vehicle.

  "Well, I didn’t see who it was," Mikon said, looking at the way the car had gone.

  "I didn’t either. My head was too busy meeting the window." She reached up and touched a tender spot where her head had been thrown against the glass.

  "I’ll call another car," Mikon said, as he fished his phone from his pants pocket.

  Before he could flip it open a car stopped right next to them.

  Bishop stepped out. "Get in the car," he said. His voice seemed loud and menacing even though he barely spoke above a whisper.

  Connie shook off another black out before walking to the car. As she climbed in, she realized her hands were shaking, and her heart hadn’t even begun to calm down.

  "Where are you going?" Bishop asked.

  Once enclosed with him in a confined space, she felt cold, bereft of warmth completely. She wanted to curl into Mikon for warmth but they weren’t ready to explain the mating to Bishop yet.

  "Little girl, I know you have mated with my Reaper. No need to think any more on my account," Bishop said.

  She cursed herself for her lack of control. Mikon needed to teach her that little party trick. Since Bishop already knew, she huddled into Mikon anyway, casting her glance across the space to meet Bishop's eyes. It was as defiant to him as she would ever get in her life—and it felt damn good.

  "Why do you dislike me so?" He cut into her thoughts, drawing her in a conversation.

  "It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just that you feel unnatural, I guess. Whenever I’m around you things just don’t feel right."

  "Don’t feel right, how?"

  "It feels like you suck the heat from the room. Like you don’t belong amongst the living. Like you died some time ago and shouldn’t be here."

  He tilted his head and regarded her.

  She built the courage to look up into Mikon’s face. He maintained a carefully neutral expression. Definitely needed him to teach her his tricks.

  "You are correct, little one. I died a long time ago. Almost ten years now. Without divesting the secrets of the Brotherhood, however, I can’t tell you more."

  Mikon stiffened beside her, and she met his eyes again. This time he didn’t look neutral. He seemed shocked.

  "You’re companion is nervous because I rarely talk this much to an outsider."

  Connie gripped Mikon’s hand. "But we work together, why am
I considered an outsider?"

  "By mating with a Reaper you are little closer to the mysteries that are heaven and hell, but you can’t know them as we do. You can’t touch them and taste them as we do. You will always be different."

  "That doesn’t make me any less. We investigators may not save your asses as much as you do ours, but our partnerships mean something. They are important. Neither party should have to feel constantly undervalued. Just because I don’t wield magic or some mystical force doesn’t mean my mind isn’t of value."

  Bishop just looked at her with black eyes as she waited for him to speak again. But it seemed they’d talked more than enough for one car ride. He dropped them off at her apartment without another word.

  As they climbed the stairs slowly, Connie kept getting dizzy. Eventually, Mikon just picked her up and carried her the remaining two flights to her apartment.

  He sat her down gently on the couch and got her some ice.

  "This vertigo needs to go away before I meet with Noah tonight."

  "You don’t think you’re still going to that, do you? Our cover is blown. There’s no other reason we would have gotten in that accident earlier."

  "We have to try. We have to find out. Maybe we can still salvage some part of this?"

  "Connie, it’s not a good idea."

  She put the ice to her forehead and closed her eyes. They needed a new plan. A new way to complete the mission without risking their lives. She took a deep breath and focused her mind on the problem.

  If Noah had sent someone to crash them, what was his goal? To end their pursuit of him? If that had been the plan he would have known they wouldn’t die because of Mikon’s abilities. He might not know they were soul-mated, though. So far, only Bishop knew.

  Her decision made, she opened her eyes and met Mikon’s worried gaze. "I say we still try for it."

  "What?" he asked, standing before beginning a familiar pace across the floor. "Before I freak out, which is highly likely, why do you think we should still try?"

  "He can’t know we’ve soul-mated. He can’t know I’m just as hard to kill as you."

  "So your plan is to go in and hope he doesn’t kill us? The backup plan being we are hard to kill so even if he tries we will be fine?"

  He leveled a shrinking look at her. The man could give some serious glares.

  "When you say it like that it seems stupid. My logic is, we test the waters. See what happens. It really could have been a freak accident."

  He ran his hands up over his head in frustration, causing the strands to poke out and take on a mind of their own.

  While she watched him pace some more he jumped and then plopped down beside her. "I know what the problem is. You have a concussion. You’re not thinking clearly."

  She thought about it and inclined her head. "It’s possible I have a concussion, but my thoughts seem fine to me."

  "That’s because you’re injured."

  Just as she was about to tell him off, her apartment door burst in and a trail of six goonish looking thugs appeared, followed closely by Noah.

  "Hello, love. Miss me?" he said, as he locked eyes on her.

  Connie made to get up, ready for a fight, but Mikon pushed her back down and held her thigh with his hand.

  "Now, what do we have here?" Noah said, pacing around her apartment.

  She didn’t want his eyes on her things, in her home, in her space. Again she tried to get up, but Mikon held her until she turned his face to look at him.

  He shook his head and inclined it toward one of the goons who held a short knife, almost like a spearhead, in his left hand. The blade was inscribed with Aramaic. Connie’s brain wasn’t addled as much as Mikon thought. It must be one of these infamous relics she’d heard so much about.

  "How did you find this place?" she asked Noah who still perused her walls.

  "We followed you, of course," he said, poking one of her stamps with his index finger.

  He turned back toward them and stood next to the man with the weapon. "Who wants to play show and tell?"

  Chapter Seventeen

  Their cover had been blown.

  Mikon couldn’t think of a single thing to save the operation and barely anything to get them out alive. Connie shifted restlessly beside him, chomping at the bit to, no doubt, put her fist in Noah’s face. The woman did like to hit things.

  He assumed they’d brought the weapon in case he started reaping souls. Usually, in a circumstance like this, he would, but he couldn’t risk Connie. He could never risk Connie. He could feel each of their souls. Some of them were less criminally-minded than they looked, innocence radiating from them. How had they gotten caught up in Noah’s business?

  Noah, however, held no innocence. His souls deserved to burn. Every single soul he wore like armor had been tainted by his misdeeds.

  "Now, my little Reaper, we are going to play nice," Noah said, gesturing to the weapon his compatriot held. "Do you know what this is?"

  Mikon had identified it the moment the man stepped in the door. "It’s the Spear of Destiny."

  "Very good. Scholarly as well as roguish good looks. It’s a shame you’re going to die."

  Connie jerked up from Mikon’s grip and stepped up toward Noah. "You will not touch him."

  Noah smiled, one that could melt a woman’s heart and probably some men’s, too. He stalked toward Connie as if she were the easiest prey alive. "My dear, you are the only person I plan to touch."

  He reached out, and Connie swatted his arm away, hard, but it didn’t deter him. He reached out again. "Oh, my dear. I think you need a little inspiration."

  The goon stepped up and put the weapon right at Mikon’s neck.

  He watched Connie jerk away one more time before Noah gripped her waist and pulled her into him. The sight of her in his embrace ignited something inside Mikon. His Reaper abilities usually remained dormant until he brought them forward, but this was different. Something swelled inside him and he stood up, even with the weapon pointed at his neck. In the back of his mind he registered the man wouldn’t kill him until given the okay from Noah. "Release her." He heard the dark edge of his voice that came out only when he wasn’t in control.

  "Ah," Noah mocked. "It seems we have wakened the Reaper."

  Noah released Connie and she stumbled away from him. Mikon went to her and cupped her cheek, comforting himself with her safety.

  "Isn’t this beautiful. You’re in love." He seized Connie’s arm in tight grip and sneered at her fake soul-mark. "You think that would have fooled me?"

  Noah released her and Connie jerked her arm back. Mikon pulled her in close.

  "Round them up. We’re going downtown," Noah said, exiting the door before anyone moved.

  The man who appeared to be the head goon stepped up. "We don’t want any trouble. Come along nice and you’ll stay unharmed."

  This man’s soul was unmarred. He had to be about forty with a jagged scar up one cheek. Either he hadn’t had time to muddy up his current soul or he somehow avoided the murder and mayhem of his surroundings. Mikon pulled Connie in close and led her out the door, the man with the spear following closely behind.

  They trailed into a large limo, probably one of the last few in existence. Noah wasn’t inside however, Mikon noted, as he placed Connie against the far door and put himself on her other side. He wished he could still read her mind, feel her emotions, but she was nothing but dead space in his mind. He could feel the others, but their emotions ranged from scared to confused to downright sadistic. One of them has his eye on Connie, and Mikon made a mental note to rip the man’s throat out before they escaped. The sound of harp music blared from the speakers in a strange juxtaposition to the men and the weapons.

  Connie gripped his arm, and even with such a small touch he could feel the tension in her hands. They shook—and not from fright, but from controlled rage. Mikon put his hand across hers, trying to instill some sense of calm, but it was useless. He still wasn’t in control himself.
At least she hadn't launched herself at their captors. He took a deep breath and started to think out the problem. What would Noah want with them? Why take them with him instead of just killing them both?

  Mikon leaned down and drew Connie into his arms, making it seem like he was comforting her. He put his lips next to her ear so she could hear him whisper. "We need to escape. There is no way this is going to end well for either of us."

  He felt the faintest incline of her head.

  "Best bet would be to escape from the car, but I don’t think they left the doors unlocked."

  She shook her head ever so slightly. So she’d already checked.

  "Our next bet would probably be upon our arrival between vehicle and our destination when they take us in." He stroked a hand down her hair, maintaining the image, and still comforting himself. She leaned into his hand. "Whatever happens, Constance, do not do anything stupid. You’re mostly immortal, but it would still be more than I can bear to see you hurt."

  "What do you think it would do to me to see you hurt?" she whispered fiercely.

  "I have other things to protect myself. You have five feet of anger and hair." She pinched him and he had to work hard to keep his face blank. "At least wait until you can get a weapon," he said, with another stroke of her hair.

  She wiggled in his arms, and he peered between them to see she had her service knife tucked into her pants. "You’re going to cut yourself."

  "I’m not a child, Mikon."

  "I know, I’m sorry." He placed a kiss on her forehead. He could feel the part of her attached to him. Her bright shining soul burning into his chest mingled with whatever uncanny force made him a Reaper. "I just want you out of this alive."

  "And I you," she said.

  When the car began to slow, he tried to peer out the windows, but they were blackened on the inside. Once the car came to a stop the goons ushered them out. They stood outside a dilapidated building in a back alley. Never a good place to be. There was no escape here.