Hooked On A Witch (Keepers of the Veil)

by Zoe Forward

  “Yes. His fiancée was killed in the ordeal as well.”

  “Owen had a fiancée?”

  “Ana something. She was pretty scary for a necromancer, not that I’ve met one before her.”

  “Anaïs?” His eyes widened.

  Shannon nodded.

  “You should stay away from her. She’s not only vicious, but also smart. Are you sure she’s truly dead?”

  “Her soul was removed by a death reaper. Come to think of it, you and my friend who’s a death reaper should meet and commiserate over your shitty destinies to chase evil people.”

  “He goes after regular people who’re evil. I go after deviant magical shitheads. Him removing her soul doesn’t mean the necromancer is dead. Unless… Did you remove her heart and burn the body? I’m not sure if it’ll work since I burned her once before and she rose from the ashes. My new theory is if I remove her heart and dispose of it elsewhere, then burning the remains of her body might work.”

  “I have no idea what happened to her body. I passed out.”

  “Let’s assume she’s not dead, then. She likes to absorb multiple souls. Giving up one soul to a death reaper isn’t a big deal.”

  “Did you know Owen is Rick’s son?”

  “Yeah. We crossed paths a few times. Owen collects friends who practice black magic, but we’ve never picked anything up about him being intent on wiping out all Pleiades. He’s caught up in Hollywood bullshit most of the time.”

  “What do you think Poseidon’s Trident has to do with them?” She sipped coffee.

  “It promises unlimited power. I’m sure that’s the necromancer’s goal. She may not have counted on you to survive Rick’s attack, definitely not to take the Trident’s power with you. I wonder how they harnessed its power. Or maybe they didn’t know about the Trident until after you’d been stabbed.”

  “You said no person could touch the Trident. Why is it possibly in me?” She ran a hand over her stomach, disturbed.

  “Told you, darlin’. I don’t have answers. Wish I could help.”

  You can help. “Do you have something at your work that could help me find the Trident?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not a single thing in all that junk you have sitting around, which reeks of magic?”

  “It’s all confiscated items. They’re relics best left alone.”

  Time to push Merck a little bit. “If you’ve got nothing, then it sounds like I need to pay Owen a visit.”

  “Stay away from him and Anaïs.”

  She shot him a challenging glare.

  “The world of black magic is pouring into South Carolina in search of you. Let’s assume Owen’s friends are interested in you for the same thing. Anaïs will kill you if she thinks it’ll grant her more power.”

  “How are you related to Poseidon?”

  He slid his chair back and took his dishes to the sink. “He’s my father.”

  “What?”

  The gaze he cast her clearly indicated that was as much information as he was willing to dish out on the matter.

  Merck was a demigod. Oh my. The strength of his power now made sense.

  “Can you talk to Poseidon for me?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know him. He’s never wanted anything to do with me.”

  So far, the recruit-Merck plan was tanking. She cleared her throat and slid her chair back. “I’ll do the dishes and then see if I can get us back to South Carolina.”

  “I can do my own dishes.”

  They both washed and dried dishes, and placed the leftover buns in the freezer.

  After the plates had been returned to their place in the cabinet, he said, “Don’t go after Owen.”

  “You can’t help me. So I need to talk to people who might know something.”

  “You have no idea what you’d be up against.”

  “I’m fully capable of dealing with whatever comes my way. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to get this situation resolved. Sounds like Owen or his undead fiancée may be my only leads.” She pushed to get past him.

  He caught her arm, spun her, and caged her against the refrigerator. His palm supported her chin and fingers wrapped her jaw. “Anaïs is as strategic as she is cunning. She targeted you. It’s not over with her, not so long as whatever has to with the Trident still involves you. The stupidest thing you can do is seek her out, whether you go alone or with your druids.”

  She struggled against his hand until he released her face. She bucked, getting herself locked tighter between him and the refrigerator. “Get off me.”

  “Not until you promise you won’t do something reckless like fly out to California.”

  “Since I’m on my own, I’ll decide my next step. I’m not even sure if you and I are on the same team or if you want to be enemies. We could be on the same team...” She stared at the temptation of his lips. Was she above a little seduction? Naughty witch time. With a smile she leaned in and kissed him hard.

  Her body trembled with the force of emotions swirling in her brain. Control slipped away as she fell victim to the mad addiction to succumb and let him take over. For days she’d been wound up, frightened and tangled, needing an outlet. Now it presented itself. Those emotions eagerly funneled themselves into her kiss.

  He pulled back. “You’re not seducing your way out of this.” He leaned forward, his lips inching close to hers, but then he ducked away. The tip of his nose brushed her jawline.

  He tipped her head sideways and nuzzled down her neck. “I’ll give you what you what right now, but you’ll swear to me you won’t go after Owen.” His hand skimmed down her side, teasing the edge of her breast.

  She moaned. “Okay.”

  He kissed her neck, quick and brief. Then he nipped her skin, followed by his tongue sweeping over the nip, erasing the sting.

  Air wouldn’t move through her chest. She had to breathe or she’d pass out in a few moments from lack of oxygen.

  He demanded, “Okay to what?”

  She sucked in air. “I promise I won’t go after Owen without you.”

  He kissed her again. This time his tongue sneaked past her lips. She got lost in the feel of his warm, smooth lips against hers. She slid into a world where everything was about feeling. A noise, deep and guttural, escaped her.

  He lifted his head. The fire in his gaze awed her. It promised a satisfaction she’d never achieved with a man before.

  He said hoarsely, “I want you. But I don’t want some confused moment when we’re both unsure of who’s using who to get what we want.”

  He didn’t return to kissing.

  “I don’t get you. You want me. I want you. It’d probably be pretty good right now.”

  “It’d be a damned sight better than pretty good. But no.”

  She glared, so confused by mixed messages from him.

  He rubbed his eyebrows. “All right. I know someone who might be able to help you, but it won’t be easy and probably dangerous.”

  Chapter Nine

  “You know someone who can help me find the Trident?” Shannon ducked out of his arms.

  “Maybe.” He didn’t want to be involved in a quest that had to do with his absent father, but he also didn’t want Shannon running to California. You must protect her. Damn it, the gods are fucking around with us.

  “What does maybe mean?” The hope blossoming on her face pushed him to help her.

  “There’s someone. I don’t know if she can tell you anything new.”

  “Is she a witch?”

  “She’s something else, but at least she’s local. Well, not local to here, wherever we may be.”

  “You’ll take me to see her when we get back?”

  “Let me see if talking to her is the right way to go.” He pulled out the small black pouch of runes he’d stuffed into his pants earlier in the day. He’d taken them on his last trip to Europe weeks ago and intended to return them to the office.

  Runes only worked if the user asked the right qu
estion. The questions dominating his brain revolved around his impending death in seventy-two hours, not her. This has to be about her and how to find the Trident. After a gentle shake of the bag he reached in with his left hand, pulled out four stones, mixed them in his hand, and placed them on the table with the symbol side up.

  A yew came up. Oh, shit.

  It doesn’t have to be negative.

  “Runes? You hunt witches, hate them, and yet you use their magic?”

  “Never said I hated witches.” Definitely not your type of witch. “This kind of benign magic can be useful.”

  He tried to remember the question he’d asked before drawing stones. He should ask again and draw new stones, but that was bad luck. The last thought before he’d drawn had been about his judgment day.

  She nodded to the stones. “What does it mean? Does it tell us what to do? I’ve never tried runes.”

  “They don’t give exact answers, but they can give hints.” He pointed at the two stones on the right, which were the symbols of Ansuz and Othila. “These are past and present influences. They represent gods and genetics. No surprises there.” His finger hovered over the third stone, the symbol of Inguz, which stood for true love and harmony. Did it mean him with Shannon for the next three days? Or longevity with some woman beyond his judgment day?

  His finger moved to the fourth stone, the yew, which was bad, although it could be a symbol of a departure from the past. He met her gaze. The only words he could force out were, “The last one tells of future influences.”

  “What does it mean?” A frown creased her brow. “It’s not good, is it?”

  Death. He’d asked the stones about himself instead of her, damn it. Now he’d confirmed he died. He grabbed up the stones. “Makes no sense.”

  “I don’t believe you. It’s something bad. Tell me.” She scowled at him, waiting for an answer.

  Finally, he said, “It suggests something not good may happen.”

  “Not good as in death? Or does it mean don’t visit your witch friend?”

  “I think this has nothing to do with seeking advice. It may have to do with the gods. We’re in the middle of one of their games. No matter what we may want to do, the scenario they designed has to be played out.”

  “I hate deterministic crap,” she muttered. “What’s the bottom line on what the runes said?”

  “Based on the runes something big is about to change. I don’t know more than that.” His shoulders lifted and dropped. “I gave up figuring out the gods’ plans the second time Poseidon’s right-hand man tried to kill me, even if he did claim he’d done it in the name of training.”

  “You know his right hand guy? Maybe you could ask him about the Trident for me?”

  “I have no idea when I’ll see him again. Maybe never. It’s not as if I can ask him to appear. He’s a god. A lower-level god, but still not something I can control.” Actually, he didn’t know if he could request Bythos’s presence. He’d never tried. However, he distrusted the god enough not to try it, even for her.

  “Would you mind asking him, if you do see him soon?”

  “Sure.” He was pretty sure the next time he saw Bythos he’d be about to die, and that might not be a moment conducive to a chitchat about her issues. Tell her about your death date. The words wouldn’t come out. Vocalizing it to her would confirm his impending death as reality. Even though he’d spent years knowing of it, judgment day seemed unreal. He functioned by avoiding it and focusing on the current day. If he didn’t speak of it, then the horror of it couldn’t own him.

  “Since that guy isn’t a certainty swear to me you’ll take me to your witch person when we get back to the other dimension.”

  He blew out a long sigh before he nodded. He’d help her. It’d be the last thing he’d do in this world, but he’d figure out her mess.

  She motioned for him to follow her as she walked through the house, turning off lights and then out the front door. “How’d you end up as both the son of Poseidon and a hunter of those who use magic to kill people?”

  God, she was full of questions. He didn’t answer.

  “Why can’t the son of a god do whatever he wants? Why be forced into a dangerous job?”

  “Seems not to be the case. Maybe it was a coincidence.”

  “A coincidence? When gods are involved?” Skepticism dripped from her words.

  “Probably not. I don’t know why I’m the son of Poseidon. I subjected myself to an eternity soul-binding ritual in the Dark Ages in exchange for help from a warlock to save my family who’d been captured by a coven of evil witches.”

  “You remember back that far?”

  “Yeah.” His family had died despite his vow.

  “Can’t you undo your soul-binding ritual? It’s been hundreds of years. They’ve got to understand you’re ready to pass the duty on to someone else.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve consulted with everyone—magical experts, occult specialists, religious gurus, and even a few lower level gods.”

  “How do you know who’s good or bad and who needs hunting?”

  “I get visions. Intuition, I guess you could call it, on what’s going on.”

  “You weren’t sure about me. Did you have some sort of vision?”

  “No. But you met a black magic relic dealer to buy a dangerous piece.”

  “True. Thanks for putting up with my questions. This is all a bit overwhelming.” She scanned the horizon over the ocean. “Sure is beautiful here. Even so, we should go back.”

  “Is the return as nauseating as the journey here?”

  “Yes.” She took his hand in hers.

  “That sucks.” He took a deep breath and readied himself for the painful squeezing.

  ***

  The world narrowed and compressed until there was no room for breathing, movement or thought. Seconds later it ended.

  She squeezed Merck’s forearm, not to reassure him, but to confirm to herself he’d traveled too. One of his arms wrapped her waist and gently squeezed.

  “Can’t see,” he muttered.

  “Me either.” Hot, muggy air caught in Shannon’s nostrils. Humidity was good, but it didn’t mean this was South Carolina. A rainforest in South America would be humid. So would Jamaica.

  Her ears strained to catch a familiar birds call, but all she heard was leaves rustling and crickets. They might be cicadas or frogs and not crickets.

  Finally, her eyes agreed to work again. She recognized the massive oaks framing the gravel driveway in South Carolina. Merck’s SUV sat a few hundred yards away.

  Thank, God. Perhaps she was getting better at the movement between dimensions.

  Oh, no. Her stomach plummeted. Her father and six tough-guy druids, including Eli, marched up the driveway toward them. For a few moments she was reduced to a teenager about to get yelled at for making out with the tennis team captain in the driveway.

  “Ah, a welcome home party. Fun, fun,” Merck murmured. No fear came from him. Considering the magical weirdoes he must encounter on a day-to-day basis, a couple of druids with miscellaneous skills probably didn’t register on his scale of scary. Even so…

  “I won’t let them hurt you,” she said.

  “It’s not me I’m worried about.” He chuckled and tilted her chin to meet his gaze. The confidence in his eyes melted into something more intense. “Darlin’, you concerned about me?”

  She nodded, mesmerized by his penetrating blue eyes. No man had ever looked at her like this. Hot. Sexual. As if he couldn’t wait to lick her from head to toe. Okay, that might be her imagination reading into his look.

  “I’m not worried.” His tone warmed her with assurance he could handle himself and he’d keep her safe. She’d never been a girl who thought she’d like being treated as a protected woman. Until right now. Well, until Merck.

  She wished he’d crush his lips to hers again in a hard kiss. Something in his eyes said he wouldn’t go there. One glance at their rapidly approaching company rem
inded her why.

  A wicked smile curved his lips. “You want me.”

  She cleared her throat. “I want you to help me find the Trident.”

  He whispered into her ear, “I’ll help you, if you admit since our first kiss you imagined us together so many times that the images of us haunt you at night and sour the touch of any other man.”

  How’d he know? Sounded like he spoke from personal experience. To think he might’ve dreamed of her, might’ve even wanted her for years, made the girly girl who’d been in love with him for all of high school rear her giggly self. It wanted to wrap her arms around him, lean in, and let him possess her.

  He warned, “If you don’t answer, I’m walking in five seconds because a shitfest train is storming our way.”

  She released a shaky breath. “This, whatever it is, drives me nuts. It’s driven me crazy for years. Is that enough for you?”

  “That works.” He turned to face their audience.

  “Shannon Elaine Randolph. What the hell are you doing with him?” her father blasted at her. He’d lost more weight since the last time she’d seen him, making his tall frame thinner but no less intimidating. More gray highlighted the dark strands around his face. Grief wasn’t a good companion. Her heart ached for him.

  Merck’s hand around her waist clenched tight. He’d turned glacial with his eyes fixated on her father.

  She said, “He’s here to help.”

  “He’ll never be able to help you.” Her father glared hostility at Merck, the two of them in some sort of silent pissing match.

  “Why the hell are you back?” Eli’s gaze narrowed dangerously onto Merck.

  Her father’s mouth settled into a severe line. “Jason Merck. I thought I made myself clear with regard to you and my daughter years ago. You stay on your side of the creek. We stay on ours. Step away from her.”

  Seeing her father this worked up broke her heart. Even though bristling like a cornered hedgehog he appeared fragile to her. Perhaps only she could see the signs of him crumbling on the inside. Outwardly, he still appeared to be the warrior he’d always been. Even so, he didn’t get to bark at Merck. He wasn’t the enemy.