Something Wicked

by Robin Moray

  But then the smile vanished, replaced by a frown. "Aren't you going in there?"

  "Your Mrs Blanden will be safer if I do not. Instead I will tail Cordelia, in hopes of discovering her base of operations."

  Kevin grinned, eyebrows going up. "Like private detectives?" He nodded, pushing off the wall. "Okay. Let's do that."

  But that was not what Peter had meant. "You needn't accompany me. I would not endanger you that way."

  "I'll be with you," Kevin said simply, green eyes wide and innocent. "Nowhere safer, right?"

  It was … true. Still, Peter did not like it. "You'd be safest as far from her as possible."

  "Yeah, but that's not gonna happen." He said it so matter-of-factly that it was hard for Peter to muster a protest. And, of course, he could not rule Kevin, not even in this. Kevin was not his, not in any sense.

  In any case, any argument he could have made was forestalled by the sound of a door banging closed. They both jerked, heads swinging toward the corner of the shop. Peter went up against the wall, creeping up to the edge to look around.

  Cordelia was walking away; Peter recognized her black-draped silhouette at once, clenching his teeth against the urge to accost her, right there in the street. But … Kevin had come up against his side, a hand closing on Peter's coat near the shoulder, and when Peter looked back at him Kevin's eyes stared bright and eager into his.

  Lord, how handsome he was. Peter shook himself, tried to ignore the urge to close the short distance between them, tried to focus. He glanced around the corner again; Cordelia had reached the other side of the street, was walking briskly along it, a plastic carry-bag swinging from one hand.

  Murderer. Vile, hideous monster. And it was his duty to stop her, to catch her, to put her down. He waited until she turned a corner and then he gestured with his fingers for Kevin to follow him.

  They tracked her to the library, Peter trying to keep his footfalls quiet and Kevin moving like a ghost on his heels, the two of them always just a street-length behind her. She did not look around, seemed unaware of her shadows, and Peter felt confident that they had not been detected until he rounded a corner and there she was, standing in the parking lot, her dark-painted mouth wide and smiling.

  "Still following me, hunter? Must be lonely, without your lady. Though," and she tilted her head to look past his shoulder quizzically, "you seem to be making new friends."

  Do not you dare to look at him, came the furious thought, but he did not say it, instead reached immediately for her magic, grasping it with thin spirit-fingers and knotting it in his fist. It stung, burned, like grasping a live coal, and it took all his willpower not to immediately let it go. He pulled, sucking it in and spitting it out again, the taste rank and foul in his throat.

  But then it flared, dark and hideous, and Cordelia pulled back, snapping the magic like a whip, and the dissonance of it shattered in Peter's veins like shrapnel.

  He let go, staggering, and reached for her again, but she gestured, her hands crossing in front of her in a ripping motion—he gasped as hot pain lanced across his chest. He had to stop her, but the agony of what she had done was like being sliced open with knives and he could do nothing.

  And then, horribly, she smiled, and all the world was swallowed in the dark.

  * * *

  Kevin saw Peter waver and go down, and his heart went too, dragged down by the fear that she had killed him, no, no, no …

  He couldn't help it; the magic just billowed up out of him, a frail fragile shield like spun glass arcing over Peter's limp body, and then Kevin was on the ground with him, hands going out by themselves to test the air between them, desperate for a pulse.

  There. Faint but there, and shit, Cordelia was staring at him, her expression fucking delighted.

  Kevin knew immediately how much he'd screwed up, and now? Magical grease-stain.

  But Cordelia only stared at him, and then, shockingly, she laughed.

  "You? But you're nothing. You're so weak!"

  Kevin hated her.

  "You can't be alone," she went on, idly swinging her carry-bag. "This place is too well-protected. Where's your coven?"

  Kevin grit his teeth. "None of your damn business."

  She grinned, teeth white against her lipstick. "You'll tell me. Eventually. It might take quite a long time for you to tell me, but you will, if I want it."

  Kevin … he could sense the wards strung out across the county, looping from node to node and none of them crossing over the library because this was not a place of power, just a place, and Bella must have overlooked it. It was a blind-spot, perfect for an ambush, and Cordelia must have known that, perhaps chosen it for that very reason.

  She must have known—"You knew there was a coven here," he said, and then he bit his lip because he shouldn't talk to her, even if she was going to tear his secrets out and spread them open on the ground. Shut up, Kevin, he told himself, and in his head it sounded so like Artemis that it made his heart ache. Brother, I'm sorry.

  "There had to be," she agreed, eyeing him as though he were a particularly interesting insect beneath a magnifying glass. "You've been protecting it. The rest of your coven must be powerful, to defend a place like this. Why would they choose to ally themselves with you?" She looked thoughtful. "You're family. Aren't you?"

  He didn't answer, but maybe his flinch told her everything she needed to know.

  "They'll come running, then, if I hurt you. They won't even think about it, if they love you that much."

  Even though he'd known it, all of them had always known, it was terrible to hear her say it, to know that she knew now that Kevin was their weakness.

  "But, if I don't, then you can take to them a message."

  "What kind of message?" he demanded, and immediately regretted it because, Don't talk to her, idiot!

  "Tell your coven there's no need for us to fight. I'm only here for the boy. Have you found him, by the way? He's slippery. He hides."

  Kevin … what? "I don't know where he is," he said slowly, not sure if it was better or worse to say so.

  "Hmmm. It would have made things simpler." She seemed to come to a conclusion, mouth pursing up into a knot. "If you let me take him, I'll go. I won't challenge you. You'll be safe, at least. Won't that make your coven happier? Your life for his."

  No. No, it was all wrong. But if he said as much she'd … what? Kill him? Eat him? There was nothing he could do to stop her, or at least he could think of nothing. If she tries I'll do whatever it takes to make sure she regrets it, he told himself, but …"What about Peter?"

  She blinked, and then grinned an awful, amused grin. "Is that his name?" Kevin cursed himself for giving that up, for allowing her to look so pleased about it. "If he comes after me I'll destroy him. But if you throw him off my scent you could save his life. Since you seem to care about him so very much." She gestured lazily with one hand, and oh, how Kevin hated her. "It's up to you. You should know, though, that he hates us. People like us. His kind doesn't care for our reasons, our motivation, our allegiances. All hunters care about is destroying us. He'll kill you if he finds out. I'd be careful, if I were you."

  And then she was in motion, walking toward him, one hand out in a warding gesture, the magic thick and heavy around her fingers. Kevin threw out a hand, hovering over Peter's still form, useless as the gesture was. She saw it, mouth turning up at the corners, so damn entertained by it all.

  "Tell your coven there's a truce between us, if you stay out of my way. If the gods have given you enough self-preservation to know what's best for you."

  And then she walked past him, away, vanishing around the corner of the library and out of sight and Kevin could not go after her because, well, they both knew how helpless he was, and there was Peter, unconscious on the asphalt.

  Kevin swore; he felt so trapped.

  Kevin dispelled his shield, put his hands on Peter's shoulder, rolled him over. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, but at least he was breath
ing. His aura was low, shadowed against him, so dry, and Kevin thought, Maybe. Just, if I— so he took a breath, took a chance, and funnelled a very little bit of magic into him.

  The reaction was immediate; Peter gasped, eyes snapping open, and Kevin let the magic go at once, afraid because she'd been right about one thing, that Peter would turn on him in an instant if he knew. But he was groggy now, and Kevin ran his hands over Peter's chest, soothing with his flesh because he could not safely soothe him any other way.

  "Whgh," Peter said, not even words, just a noise, and then, "Ah! Kevin." One of his hands came up, cupping Kevin's jaw, fingers light on his skin. "Oh."

  "Hey," Kevin said, glad beyond words, hands flat on Peter's shirt. "Hey. You're okay."

  He didn't look okay at all, grey-faced and weak, but he was alive, and Kevin counted that as a definite plus. Peter cleared his throat, and then stiffened, trying to pull himself up. "Cordelia!"

  "She's gone. It's all right."

  "Gone? But … Kevin, did she hurt you?" He looked horrified, gripping Kevin by the shoulders as if to make sure of his existence.

  "No," Kevin said, and then he shrugged because how was he going to explain that? "She … just went. Said something about, um." She'd said she would destroy him. "She said not to come after her."

  Peter shook his head. "As though I could not. Yet. She let me live. I would not have expected that." His expression crumpled painfully. "She did not do Miranda that courtesy."

  Kevin tugged him, tried to pull him to his feet. "Come on. Let's go. She might change her mind, after all."

  Peter let himself be helped up, but then he resisted. "I have to find her. I have to finish it."

  It was heroic and melodramatic and ridiculous, and Kevin couldn't bear it. "Finish it? She almost finished you."

  Peter flinched. "She did. I will be more careful, this time. And you will stay behind."

  "Don't be a fucking idiot!" Kevin surprised himself with that, with how strongly he felt about it. Peter would go after her and die, and Kevin was supposed to just let him? No. No way. "You can't do it alone. You said it yourself: hunters are supposed to hunt in pairs. She'll kill you. Shit, it won't even be hard for her."

  The look on Peter's face made Kevin feel instantly guilty, but Peter nodded all the same. "She will. But, God willing, I will take her with me."

  Chapter 10

  Kevin stared at him, mind gone blank with the horror of what Peter was suggesting.

  "Are you saying … Peter. You'll die. She'll kill you and you'll be dead." And I can't bring you back, I can't do that, I wouldn't even if I could. "How can you just say that?"

  Peter scrubbed a hand wearily over his face. "If it is necessary, then I must. There's no-one else to stop her. And she won't stop here. She'll keep feeding until … who knows how powerful she would become if left unchecked." He searched Kevin's face with his eyes, and Kevin … this was awful. "If there were another way, I would take it. But I have none. Only my duty."

  "Duty? Looks more like revenge to me." Kevin hated how that one seemed to go home, how hurt Peter looked. But it was true so he went on, "Would Miranda want this? You might as well throw yourself off the goddamn Point!"

  Peter's face went very still, mouth thin and hard, and Kevin knew he'd gone too far. "Permit me the opinion that you cannot possibly know what Miranda would or would not have wanted," Peter said, cool and flat as a sheet of ice. "I will do what I feel I must. If that requires sacrifice, then the cost is not too high."

  "Don't you even care?" Kevin heard his voice crack, like he was a teenager again, awkward and embarrassingly earnest. "How can you not care?"

  "Because I have nothing left to care about," Peter said with heartbreaking honesty, and Kevin—What about me? You could have me, if you wanted—couldn't take any more.

  "Fine, then! Be a martyr, see if I care!"

  "Kevin!" Peter reached for him, but Kevin was done, so done with it all, and turned on his heel to storm away.

  He regretted it almost at once, but he couldn't go back now, that would have been worse, so he dug his phone out of his pocket and called his brother, still seething.

  "Peter's a fucking idiot," he said as soon as Artemis picked up. "He's going after her on his own, like an idiot, and she's going to kill him, I just know it?"

  There was a pause, and then—"What happened? I thought you were staying away from him? Why are you still talking to him?"

  Kevin groaned, but he told the whole story on the angry walk back to the bookshop. "Can we just … dose him with valerian and deal with her, or something?"

  "First you want to dump his body in the quarry and now you want to drug him unconscious," Artemis said archly. "You've got a funny way of being in love."

  "I'm not!" Kevin slammed the shop door open and let it bang closed behind him. He didn't flip the sign to 'open', just left it because the last thing he wanted was a customer, right now. "I just … he'll die, Artie!"

  "And you want to save him."

  "Yes! All right?"

  "Because you're in love with him."

  Kevin screwed his face up, tugging at his hair with his fingers to keep from screaming."Artie!" He took a deep breath, his heart hammering like a kick-drum. "I don't know, I just … I don't want him to die." Please, please, don't make me do this on my own.

  "All right. For heaven's sake, Kevin, there's no need to be melodramatic about it." His tone shifted, suddenly serious. "Though, can we talk about the part where the warlock knows who you are, now? I think we ought to talk about that." Kevin made an angry noise, but Artemis ignored it. "We'll come get you. There's a few things … I need to talk to Bella first, so we'll be at least an hour. See you then." And he hung up, before Kevin could argue with him.

  Augh! Kevin leaned his hands on the counter, bowing over it until his forehead met the wood, cool and smooth against his skin. It was hopeless. Peter was hopeless, and Kevin wished he'd never seen him, never laid eyes on him, never noticed his firm long-fingered hands or the strong length of his limbs or his stupid face and his stupid heartache bleeding out all over the place. But he'd get over it.

  Shit, shit, shit, he thought, scrubbing his hands over his face because—Oh shit. I really am in love with him. What am I gonna do?

  What he did was put on the kettle, make some tea, and he definitely didn't think about anything. Especially not about Peter. He definitely didn't lean bonelessly on the counter drinking jasmine tea and thinking about how Peter's mouth might taste and if his tongue was as clever as it sounded and how his hands were strong enough to wrap around Kevin's thighs and haul him up against—

  Nope. No way. Definitely not that. It was too quiet, and ages before Artemis (or probably Bella) would come for him, so he picked out a hopelessly-romantic looking paperback and took his tea to the couch in the back room, where they kept the book-mending things and the cage.

  He didn't get far before he started skimming—the protagonist blah, the love interest blah, why was he doing that? what kind of sane person would do that? no don't go with him he's a dickhead—and he was about to skip ahead to the kissing bits when the front door he'd clearly neglected to lock swung open, sounding the bell.

  For a heart-stopping moment he thought, It's Cordelia, but then he heard, "Kevin?"

  Peter.

  Kevin was up off the couch before he realized he'd thought about moving, through the bead-hung doorway and into the shop. Peter was just closing the front door behind him; his head came up, eyes catching Kevin's in the dark of his shadow, and he had a hand out, and—

  "Kevin," he breathed, fingers closing on Kevin's hand, making the magic spark and scatter between them. "I'm so sorry. I had to see you."

  Kevin could feel it, how his magic leapt up, wrapped around Peter's wrist, coiling along him like a needy vine, clinging to him. It was too late, he thought, every fragment of him aligning to Peter no matter what, despite his intentions, because this was right, Peter was right for him, and there was no turning back.
>
  "Are you all right?" Because of course Peter asked that, his gaze running over Kevin's face as though looking for bruises. "Kevin—"

  Kevin pulled him in, because it was inevitable, one hand clutching the knit of Peter's sweater and Peter made an awful sound as though this was both what he wanted and what he was dreading. So, at least they could agree on that.

  Kevin kissed him. It should have been awkward, like every other first kiss, but this one fell into place, no excess teeth, no confusion of noses, no neck-craning. Like magic, and Peter's hands came around to press up against the muscles in Kevin's back, until they were flush against one another. Their mouths fitted together like somebody planned this, like this was meant, and Kevin couldn't handle the level of soul-searching that would be required to process that so he studiously Did Not Think about it and, anyway, Peter smelled like cinnamon and that … yeah, that was good.

  He'd thought Peter would be shy but he wasn't, pushing Kevin up against the counter and pinning him there with his hips, warm and heavy all down Kevin's front. He cupped his hands under Kevin's jaw to hold him still, and yes, his tongue was just as clever as it sounded, just as firm and sweet as Kevin had imagined. Kevin chased Peter's lip, sucked on it, drew him back in when he tried to pull away, running his fingers up into Peter's hair and messing it up like he'd been dying to ever since the afternoon Peter ruined his life by walking through the door.

  It wasn't fair. He could feel Peter drinking his magic; it had a sweet burn to it that made Kevin giddy and euphoric, drunk and stupid with it. He swelled a little, gathering magic and feeding it to Peter and Peter groaned, squeezing Kevin hard enough that Kevin stopped trying that at once, afraid Peter would work it out and then … well, maybe he wouldn't actually hurt Kevin but anyway, he'd leave and Kevin couldn't let that happen.

  "I'm sorry," Peter said, thumbs firm against Kevin's jaw. "I should have let you be, but you're all I can think about. I hoped you'd let me tell you I was sorry."

  "No, just keep kissing me," Kevin begged. He looped his arms around Peter's neck, nuzzling up against his chin and even his beard smelled of cinnamon. "Ugh, why do you smell so good, it's not fair …"