“I don’t have a choice,” Alan grumbled, then rubbed at his mostly bald head, which made his remaining hair stand in weird directions. Not a good look, but I kept that thought to myself.
I pointed a finger at him. “Believe you me, first chance we get, we are going to un-attach you from me. Again. Then you can move on, and so can I.”
“But not with him,” Alan tipped his chin toward Corb.
I didn’t answer that shot from him.
Sarge sat up, his body sliding from wolf to man in a breath. Naked, hunky, well-muscled man. I looked across the back seat and grinned. “Nice of you to join us.”
He covered his jewels, which took both of his hands, and gave me a smile, albeit a small twist on his lips. “This is not for the ladies. Besides, you can’t handle the two men you have.”
Kinkly sighed. “Oh, but it’s so fun trying to handle multiple men. I did it once, had four going at the same time. So. Much. Fun.”
I shook my head as Feish opened her mouth, no doubt to derail the conversation further and ask just how many cats she would need for four men. “Focus, team. Focus. We are going to NOLA to find my gran and figure out what’s going on while we are there. Or at least, I am. You in or not?”
Sarge nodded. “I like NOLA, haven’t been in a while. I can be your guide dog. Least I can do.”
I sighed. He’d tried to kill me while under the magical thrall of a powerful pair of mages, and he still felt bad. No point in arguing with him. He’d just tell me it was an honor thing. Besides, I needed all the help I could get.
“Okay, Sarge is in. I know Robert is in.” I put my hand on my hip bag, and one of my fingers came away smeared with something red, tacky, and mostly dry. I took a beat, grabbed the edge of the bag and flipped it open, then reached into its magically expanded interior for a small container of disinfectant wipes.
I used the wipes to get Alan’s blood off my bag, doing my best not to think about it too much. “Corb, Kink? What about you two?”
“Of course, I’m in!” Kinkly flew around my head. “There are some sexy as sin fae men in NOLA, so let’s get our drink on and throw out some beads!”
Feish tipped her head. “What do beads have to do with catching men? If it’s like fishing, I could find great success in this place.”
I wasn’t going to encourage that line of thought. I needed focus from my team—
“Oh yeah,” Sarge said. “I could use a hurricane or three. And I’d put beads on a few guys.”
I was pretty sure he meant the drink and not the natural disaster, but my oh-crap meter went off. “Don’t say that out loud—about the hurricane that is. It sounds like you’re asking for trouble.” Sarge laughed at me, and I reached back and slapped his very bare leg. He kept laughing and I kept smacking him, but even through all that, I heard Corb.
“Yes. I’ll go with you,” he said softly as he put the car in gear, did a very illegal U-turn, which was beyond stupid considering we were on the run, and headed in the other direction on the highway.
We hadn’t been driving very long, maybe five minutes, before Sarge grabbed the back of Corb’s seat. “We’ve got company. I can hear them coming. I think they are ahead of us.”
I looked all around but didn’t see anything out of place. No cop cars. Nothing. It took a solid minute for me to hear them.
Sirens.
Another minute passed and a stream of cop cars crested the slight rise ahead of us, going in the opposite direction at what looked like Mach 3.
“One, two, three, four,” Kinkly counted. “Holy goddess, how badass do they think you are? There are seven cars!”
She wasn’t wrong. Corb’s hands went all white-knuckled on the wheel, and Sarge patted his shoulder until he visibly relaxed. “Easy, man. Easy. They’re looking for the van, not your car. At least, they aren’t looking for it yet.”
“They’re headed toward the cabin,” I said, sure of it in my gut, the same way I’d known Mr. Langley was actually Monica the realtor. “Did Roddy boy tip them off? Or did the council figure out the connection?” I wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed inevitable he was behind this somehow. Of course, Roderick might have screwed up rather than actively betrayed us. People were fallible, limited by their own pride and belief in others. Just look at how Corb had slipped up.
“No idea,” Corb said.
Sarge leaned back a little farther and pulled up a blanket from the floor, wrapping it across his hips. “You sure it’s not just some regular old police call out?”
“Yes,” I rubbed at the back of my neck, feeling as though I’d dodged a bullet. “I’m absolutely sure.”
And after that I couldn’t quite relax.
The drive to Montgomery went smoothly . . . considering we had a homophobic ghost in the back seat, sandwiched between a naked gay werewolf and a river nymph who was getting dating tips from the fairy perched on her hand. Oh, and the siren in the driver’s seat kept throwing out waves of magic that washed over my skin, making me horny as hell. Damn it, this was not the place or time.
I tried sleeping to distract myself.
I tried thinking about almost dying.
I tried to think about where we’d find Gran in NOLA.
I tried staring out the window, but it was dark and there wasn’t a lot to see.
I tried breathing exercises to slow my rising libido, clamping my legs at the knees as if that would help.
“Are you having a heart attack?” Kinkly asked as she sat on the dashboard, her tiny legs kicking against it in staccato drum. “Or is this just how old ladies breathe when they are tired and want to get laid?”
I put my hand over my face. “Kinkly, shush—”
Alan made a choking sound in the back seat. “You’re horny? You almost died, and you’re thinking about getting laid by that troll back there?”
Sarge chuckled. “Honey, she ain’t thinking about Crash right now. That cousin of yours is seriously agitated, so his siren magic is swallowing us all up right now. Which means we all want to climb on him and go for a ride. Maybe all at the same time. Which could have its merits. Like a Corb sandwich.”
I dared a glance back because I had to see the look on Alan’s face as the realization hit him that Sarge was not straight. Did he know Corb was bi?
Alan’s face did not disappoint. It went from a look of confusion, to shock, to horror, and then he whipped around to tap his cousin on the shoulder. “Are you gay?”
I couldn’t help myself. I announced to the car, “Alan wants to know if Corb is gay.”
Kinkly giggled. “Oh goddess, this is seriously the most entertainment a girl could ask for on a Tuesday night. Please do answer him. Oh, I’ll answer for me, I swing both ways.”
Feish tapped her lower lip. “I like men, but I suppose the right woman could entertain me, though I don’t know what we would do with two cats. Would the two cats fight?”
I choked on a laugh, swallowed it hard, then blinked innocently up at Corb. “Corb? Your cousin asked you a question.”
He shot me a look, and maybe it was the way I was smiling at him, maybe he could tell I really didn’t care who tickled his fancy as long as he was happy, but he relaxed and some of the tension went out of the air. “Some days, Alan. Some days. Depends on my mood.”
Alan slumped in his seat. “Bree. I can’t take this. My cousin just came out of the closet, and I’m sitting next to a naked gay werewolf who keeps looking at me.” I wanted to laugh at him because I wasn’t even sure Sarge could see him.
“I can’t. I just can’t do this!” Alan whispered.
“Yes, well what would you like me to do about it?” I asked. “These are my friends, the people who are my family now, and I love them just the way they are.”
He sighed and shuddered. “Put me back in the bag.”
7
That discussion about sexuality was the highlight of the drive to Montgomery, and after that, things really did quiet down. It was late, closing in on midnight, and now t
hat Corb’s tension had eased off some, he seemed to be controlling his magic better. Or at least enough that we could all breathe a little easier.
Now that my libido was no longer tormenting me, fatigue set in even stronger than the bruises I could feel blooming all over my hips and butt from my dash along with Sarge. Finding a comfortable spot was harder than I’d thought it would be. But I leaned my seat back and slept—fitfully, but at least I got some rest. At one point, Corb reached across and took my hand, once more tangling my fingers with his. Not a bad way to sleep. I’d slept—and I mean that in the literal sense—with him before, and he was warm and smelled good and was nice to curl up with. Despite his overprotective tendencies, he meant well. Far better than Alan ever had.
But if I compared him to Crash . . .well, that’s where things got murky in my semi-asleep state. If Crash hadn’t been around at all, I was pretty sure Corb and I would have moved on to the next level, and our sleeping together would not have been so platonic. His magic sang to me in a very different way than Crash’s did. They were like night and day, fire and water, and not just in a metaphoric sense. Which was why it was so hard to choose between them. Especially when I was alone with one of them and the other was far away.
“Never mind. Not now,” I mumbled, not really awake, not really asleep. Time for men later. Surviving and dealing with a missing gran was first on my to-do list. The demon’s master had taken her somewhere in New Orleans for reasons I didn’t understand. Yet. I would find out if it was the last thing I did. I cringed at my own thoughts as if I were jinxing my efforts. No need to think about dying, not anytime soon. I needed to focus on things I could control. Like searching for Gran.
When I was a girl, Gran had taken me to New Orleans to meet some of her coven friends who didn’t live in Savannah. Most likely a few of the witches would still be kicking. I hoped. Maybe?
I had my reasons for the gas stop in Montgomery, although I didn’t understand them. It was one of those nudges from my gut. A ripple of memories long since forgotten. We approached the first exit, and Corb glanced at me. I waved for him to keep going, then pointed adamantly at the next one. “Here, this exit.”
His only answer was the engine of the Mustang revving down a gear, then another and another as we slowed.
“Any particular reason you wanted to get fuel here?” Corb said as he pulled into a gas station off the interstate. He hadn’t said it with a tone, but it was clear he was still kind of annoyed I’d taken over his “rescue.”
I looked at the station. “No, not this one, keep going.”
Corb’s jaw ticked as he kept the car moving down the street. “What are you looking for? I don’t even need to fill up. I’m at half a tank.”
I just shook my head. “Keep going,” I said again, my eyes sweeping the area. Like an image superimposed over reality, I could see things as they had been. My magic flared a little, and my gut tensed as the world brightened. Suddenly it looked as if it were daytime, and not the middle of the night.
A memory, I was inside a memory.
I sat next to Gran as she drove us along this road, and she smiled at me. “Almost there, honey child. You’re going to love NOLA, but this place . . . it’s special too, just don’t forget it.”
I blinked and the sunlight faded, the dark of night sweeping through my vision again.
“Slow down,” I said.
Corb muttered under his breath, but other than that was quiet.
My head suddenly snapped to the left and I was staring down a street that only had one thing on it. A gas station about a block off the main drag.
“We need to go to that one.” I pointed and he didn’t argue. Then again, my hand had already drifted back toward the stick shift.
“Do we want to ask why?” Sarge asked.
I frowned and rubbed at my head, seeing Gran beside me again, smiling, happy and alive. “No, it’s a feeling. Like I’ve been here before. And that something important is here.”
I was following my trust in Gran, and that trust said stop here. As simple as that.
As soon as the car stopped moving, I was out and stretching my legs. My body was still sore from the big fight in the goblin arena, not to mention bouncing along behind Sarge, and sitting for hours on end had not helped. But more than that, I wanted to look at this place. Why in the world would I be drawn to this gas station?
I tried to dredge up another memory, but there was nothing. Not even a whisper of Gran saying, Here. This place is the right one.
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath, wincing as my back twinged.
Feish got out of the back seat, something in her hand. As she approached me, she shoved a bottle of Advil and a water bottle into my hands. “Here, I brought you the magic pills. Looks like you need them. Again.”
“God bless you.” I opened the bottle and downed three pills, chasing them with half the water.
“You need to be in tip-top shape, which you are not, for New Orleans.” Feish sighed. “There is even more magic there, and it’s more in the open than in Savannah. In many ways, it is not as dangerous, but it’s so different you might not see trouble coming until it is too late.”
I glanced at her, my river maiden friend who’d once disliked me enough to try feeding me tea that would make my ass explode . . . and then later fed it to me because she needed to save my life. Funny how things could change. “You were very quiet while we drove. Something bothering you?”
She burbled a sigh and motioned with her head for me to follow her. We walked across the parking area of the gas station, the dull green neon sign flickering and buzzing. She stood under it, and I joined her despite the obnoxious noise of the slowly dying neon light above us.
“Talk to me, girlfriend,” I said.
Another big sigh and she bobbled her head from side to side. “I’m worried about the boss. He said there was big trouble with Faerie.” As in the land of the fae.
Ah. That made sense. “You think he won’t be able to make tea for himself?” I couldn’t help teasing a little.
She gave me a sharp look, eyes narrowing. “I’m worried that he’s going to get into trouble without me there to point out how stupid he’s being. He is always in trouble. Kind of like you. You two need a Feish around.”
I bit the inside of my cheeks to keep from smiling at her. “And you keep him out of trouble?”
Feish shrugged. “As much as can be said for keeping a man out of trouble, yes. He said to come with you and protect you because you are important. Which I did because we are friends, but being on his own is dangerous for his health.”
I looked past her to the road where the cars flowed past us like a river in the night, their lights brightening the world for a flash and then gone, the smell of exhaust in the air almost overpowering the smell of a rose bush we stood near.
She closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t tell you, but . . . feels like someone is taking him away on purpose. I don’t know why. Maybe Karissa again? She does not give up easy.”
I blinked a few times and put a hand on her shoulder. “I think Crash is more than capable. He can handle whatever he’s got going on, even if it’s something you don’t understand—”
Feish clamped a free hand over my mouth and tugged me backward so hard and fast that I nearly bit the palm of her hand. She tucked us in behind the three-foot-wide post that held up the large station sign that had tugged on my memories.
“That’s not good.” She pointed at four figures heading toward the blue Mustang where Corb was fueling up and Sarge sat in the back seat in a pair of sweats and nothing else.
The four figures were tall, over eight feet easily, and super slim, built like sticks, not unlike that strange Halloween Jack character I’d seen in an animated movie years before. And while no one else seemed to see them for what they were, I knew right away they were supernatural. I mean. . .they were basically animated stick figures, so that alone gave them away. But the flowing gray mist that rolled around their feet was t
he clincher. It hid their feet and left me wondering if they were walking or floating.
“What are they?” I whispered. I’d never seen anything like them before.
“Wraiths. Bad business those. Like hired thugs but worse of course. Make your limbs into noodles.” Feish held me tightly as if she knew I was thinking of running over there.
“Do we go and help the boys?”
Feish gave a surprised gurgle as if she couldn’t believe how dumb I was to even think it. “We stay here. Probably the council is using them to hunt for you. But how they find us so quick? Maybe tracking Corb’s car?”
I grimaced and crouched a little more. Wraiths? I couldn’t remember learning anything about them from Gran or Eammon in my training, but I pulled Gran’s book out of my hip bag and flipped through it. I really needed to alphabetize the thing. But the wraith section was near the front, and I found it quickly and skimmed the section as fast as I could.
Wraiths are the darkest of all the soul-bound creatures, but they can be bargained with and bought off if you have what they want. They cause confusion of the mind, as if you were drinking too much tequila. Particularly effective against groups because they can mask what you see in front of you. Under the influence of wraiths, you may end up fighting and killing your own friends. They’ll let you attack each other, then strike when you are already injured and damaged by your own allies.
They can be contained by using a combination of circles and spells. Said spells and circles don’t have to be tidy, but they must be completed, or the results can be dire.
Prominently used by the darker magics as enforcers, kidnappers, and assassins.
I looked up in time to see the four wraiths surrounding Corb, who was yelling at Sarge to start the car. Those two were adept fighters, and if they started fighting, I had no doubt one of them would die. I stuffed my gran’s book back in the bag and pulled out one of my wicked knives and managed to unhook her webbed fingers from my arm. “Stay here, Feish.”
She made another reach for me, but I was already running, limping only a little, and headed straight for the back of the Mustang. The three wraiths had fallen in around Corb. They weren’t touching him, but they had their noses in the air, sniffing, and he was on his knees with his head in his hands. “Don’t. Get out of my head!” he growled, and I was pretty sure he didn’t mean me because his eyes were closed.
Midlife Ghost Hunter: A Paranormal Women's Fiction (The Forty Proof Series Book 4) Page 6