by Jasmine Walt
“Ace,” he groans, and brings his hands down to my ass. Squeezing it, he moves me onto him so I’m straddling his lap. He brings his hands up my back, fingers pressing into my flesh. He kisses me again, hard and demanding.
The kiss has the magic of a first kiss with the passion of star-crossed lovers finally reunited. But it’s over as quickly as it started, and when he pulls away, it’s like I forgot how to breathe and the only way I can get air is to have his lips on mine again.
“Ace,” Jacques says again, eyes losing color. His tan skin is turning gray, and I’m suddenly terrified he’s going to crumble to pieces if he doesn’t get back to the roof.
“You have to go,” I say, panicking. He nods, knowing it to be true, but looks at me as if letting me go will hurt worse than crumbling into nothing.
I spring up, racing to the window. I unlock it and throw it open. Jacques moves toward it, and I practically shove his wings through to get him outside, just in time. I fall back onto the bed, heart racing from both finally kissing Jacques and fearing that he was going to die before my eyes. I roll over, hugging my pillow and wishing it were him. He’s right outside, as are the others, and yet I’m back to feeling lonely again.
It’s earlier than I need to get up, but there’s no way I can go back to sleep. Plus, I fell asleep hours before I normally do and I’m not tired. Clouds are covering the sky this morning, and the air has taken on a chill. I change into exercise clothes and go for a run, and then shower, get dressed, and eat breakfast with time to spare.
Picking up the grimoire and Jacques’s translations, I spend a good hour studying and practicing the glamour spell three more times. By the third time, my white rock glows a fiery red.
Getting a second cup of coffee, I do a bit of Google searching on how to break curses. I’m certain everything I’m reading online is bullshit, but if this book in front of me exists and has real spells, then maybe there’s a chance some of what I’m reading online has merit too.
By the time I have to leave for work, I have a list going on everything I can find about breaking curses. A lot of the information repeats itself, stemming from different cultures and religions, which makes me think there might be some truth in it after all. I add my curse-breaking notes to my bag, grab Lily’s laptop, and head out to work.
I toss everything in the car and then dash back into the house, bringing out a battery-powered radio. I change it to a pop station, which Thomas and Gilbert have grown rather fond of, and turn up the volume.
I rest my hand on Gilbert’s, which has become a twisted talon set in stone. “See ya later.”
“I looked at that Roy guy’s account,” Erica tells me, pulling up something on her computer. She’s my go-to person on the force when it comes to anything dealing with computers. “And it’s interesting.”
“Interesting how?”
“The account has been logged into from multiple IP addresses, which isn’t uncommon depending on what devices you’re logging in from. People have multiple computers, tablets, phones…you get what I mean. But then, most would be in the same area. But his account has been accessed from California, Texas, and Missouri, and no, he’s not traveling. The logins are too close together for that.”
“Someone is sharing the account.”
“That’s what it appears.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Can you narrow down the locations?”
“Already done.” She grabs a printed list from her desk.
“Thanks. While I have you, can you comb through my vic’s computer? See if you find anything else?”
“Of course. Do you know the password or do you need me to crack that too?”
“I figured it out. It was her cat’s name,” I say as I pull the laptop from my bag.
“That would have been one of my first guesses. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
I go back to my desk and check with local law enforcement from the other cities Roy’s account was logged in from. They haven’t had any murders remotely similar to the one I’m investigating. It’s a pain in the ass to get Facebook to give up access to messages, and having compelling evidence in a murder case would have helped.
Feeling like I’m back at square one, I fall back to good old-fashioned police work and leave the station to talk to Lily’s friends and coworkers to see what they know. I grab my jacket, flipping up the collar to try and keep the misty rain off my neck, and head out.
Two hours later, I get back into the car with a heavy sigh. Everyone loved Lily. She was sweet and kind and wouldn’t hurt a fly. She had no creepy ex-boyfriends. No stalkers. Even her boss loved her. If this wasn’t personal, it’ll make finding the killer that much harder.
But not impossible.
My phone buzzes, and I dig it out of my purse. It’s Gemma, asking if I want to have dinner tonight. Smiling, I unlock my phone to text back a reply. Dinner is too close to sunset, and I don’t want to lose a minute with the guys. I have magic to practice tonight, and I promised Thomas and Gilbert we could start Game of Thrones this week. I didn’t want them to watch it without me. Their reactions to TV and movies is entertaining even now. Plus…it’s Game of Thrones. I love that show.
I open the text and ask her if she wants to grab lunch instead. She starts typing right away.
Gemma: Yeah, that’ll work! I go on my lunch break in a few minutes. Want to meet at that Chinese takeout place by Lyra’s Magic Shoppe?
Me: I’m actually in that part of town. I can be there in fifteen minutes.
Gemma: Great! Order me an egg roll? LOL It’s been a long day already. I’ll pay you back!
Me: Just one? ;-)
Gemma: I could eat a dozen today. I stress eat :-O I always get a #5 plate there. See you soon.
Me: I’ll put in the order, no worries.
Gemma: Yay! Thanks hun!
I put the phone down, check off the last name on my list, and drive over to the restaurant. I get in a few minutes before Gemma, who looks exasperated when she huffs down at the table. She’s wearing navy blue scrubs with her name badge clipped to her collar. My eyes go to it out of habit, wanting to place names and faces in case I need to reference them later. Her hair is blonde with pink highlights in her photo—she looks much better with her natural dark color—and she works at a nursing home called Silver Living.
I’m so used to looking for the bad in people, trying to find ways to incriminate them, I’ve forgotten how to be a friend. Our food is ready just a minute later, and we sit at one of the few tables in this little place to eat.
Gemma talks about work, telling me about an annoying family member of a patient she’s taking care of, along with an asshole doctor who almost killed someone by prescribing medication the patient is allergic to.
We talk and laugh throughout lunch, and it surprises me how fast time goes by. The mist has turned into rain when we leave, and Gemma curses under her breath when we get to the door.
“I picked a great day to walk,” she grumbles.
“I can drive you,” I offer. “You can’t be far, right?”
“No, which is bad for my waistline,” she jokes. “I come here every time I work a nightshift. They’re the only place open past midnight.”
I zip my leather jacket and open the door. We dash across the street and get into the car. I have to shove my bag into the back, and the paper inviting me to the Memorial Day party falls out onto the floor.
“What’s this?” Gemma unfolds the paper. She was right about being nosey. It doesn’t bother me, though, not yet at least.
“Nothing I’m going to,” I say, and start the car, unsure if I need the heat or the air. It’s humid again, but a little chilly. May is so fun in Pennsylvania.
“There’s all-you-can-eat BBQ and an open bar.” She grins. “I’ll go if you don’t want to. Unless it’s like an ex’s party or something.”
“Not an ex, just a neighbor.”
“You don’t like them?”
I pull ou
t onto the street. “I don’t know them. I moved recently but honestly have no intention of getting to know my neighbors. I’m so social, I know.”
Gemma laughs. “You recently moved?” She scans the paper. “Onto this street?”
That bad feeling comes back in my stomach, and my muscles twitch as I resist the urge to jerk the wheel and send Gemma flying against the window.
What the fuck?
“Near there.”
“Interesting. I, uh, had a friend nearby when I was a kid.”
“I thought you said you grew up in Amish Country?”
“Yeah, I did. In Lancaster. But we came into the city every now and then. My parents’ graves are here.” She’s talking quickly and looks down. She’s lying and I have no idea why.
“Oh. Okay.” Silence falls between us the rest of the way to Silver Living.
“Thanks again, Ace.” Gemma unbuckles. “Did you give any more thought to going to Lyra’s tarot card reading next week?”
I make a face. “We’ll see.”
“You don’t believe yet, do you?”
“Not yet. Hey,” I say quickly before she gets out. “The herbs at Lyra’s…are they real?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is the Devil’s Shoestring really that? It looked like someone picked up twigs off the sidewalk and bagged them up.”
She chuckles. “Yeah, Lyra’s legit. Not every place is, though. Even though Lyra’s overbearing and a cheapskate, I go back to her place for that reason.”
“Thanks. And if I can get away from work, the tarot thing might be entertaining.”
She smiles. “Don’t you want to see if there’s a tall, dark, and handsome man in your future?”
“I can dream,” I laugh. There’s not just one tall, dark, and handsome man in my life.
There are four.
I set everything on the kitchen table and open the grimoire, pulling out the folded paper with my own notes. I read them over until the oven beeps, get up to put two lasagnas in the oven, then go right back to the book.
I woke up the gargoyles, bringing them back to the men they used to be. I can hold fire in my bare hands and not feel the heat. I can do the glamour spells. Obviously I have magic inside me. I need to figure this shit out and do something with it.
Uncapping a pen, I stare at my notebook. Jacques said I can make my own spells, and the spells already written in the book aren’t strong enough to break the curse. I’m sure it takes years of practice to get to the point of creating spells, but what if I combine what’s already written?
I make lists of the ingredients of every spell translated so far that could be applied to curse breaking, circling anything that’s mentioned more than once, thinking maybe if I double those ingredients, I’ll up the ante and make a spell that’ll pack a punch.
It sounds too easy, I know, but it’s all I’ve got right now. Getting annoyed with myself for not thinking up a genius idea that will break this curse, I get up, not able to sit still any longer. Checking on the food in the oven, I spend a few minutes cleaning up the kitchen and pull out the vacuum.
The guys and I have fallen into a routine. It was weird having to show them how to do simple household chores, but since they never lived in this millennium until recently, those simple things were foreign to them.
This house is so damn big it takes all of us to keep it clean. I get the living room, kitchen, and dining room vacuumed, then stop to keep working on dinner, mixing up a salad and getting garlic bread ready to go in the oven later.
I sit on the porch steps, waiting for the guys to wake up. My thoughts drift back to that bloody basement, back to the vacant look in Mrs. Green’s eyes when she told me about the Dark Ones.
There was no connection made from the stolen body in the alley to the blood on the basement walls. The two are being treated as separate incidences, though my gut tells me otherwise.
And now I’m thinking about ghosts again, mind going crazy with everything Jacques and I talked about this morning. If there was a way to speak to the spirits of my parents, I’d know what happened.
I’d know how to make sure it never happens again.
Bits of stone and dust start to fall from Thomas’s and Gilbert’s wings. I watch, impressed every time I see them shift from stone to man. Well, almost man.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say, getting to my feet. Gilbert shakes dust from his hair and smiles, looking up at the house for the others to join. “How’d you sleep?”
Gilbert gives me a glare. “Like a baby.”
“Yeah, it’s really comfortable up there,” Thomas deadpans.
“It looks terrible, really. I can only imagine the stiff neck you’d wake up with.”
“That’s not the only stiff part I wake up with,” Thomas says with a smirk. Jacques joins us, followed a moment later by Hasan. My heart feels full the second the guys awaken, but the feeling of butterflies when I look at Jacques is new.
And I like it.
“Dinner should be ready soon,” I say, going back inside.
“What’s all this?” Jacques asks right away, looking at the kitchen table.
“Curse Breaking: 101. I’m going to give it a shot tonight. I know it won’t remove everything, but if it makes it so you can stay in the house during the day I’ll call it progress.”
“I agree,” Jacques says. “I’ll help you with it after dinner, if you’d like.”
“Thanks.” I look into Jacques’s eyes, remembering the way his lips felt on mine. I want to grab his hand, lead him upstairs, and have him kiss me again. This time, the sunrise won’t stop us.
But dinner does. The timer goes off, and I get dinner out of the oven before it burns. A few minutes later, we’re all seated in the dining room.
“What is your plan?” Gilbert asks.
“I’m going to wing it and see what happens.”
“Wing it?” Hasan questions.
“It means just try something without a plan, basically.”
“That’s not a plan.”
“It’s a plan to not have a plan,” Thomas tries, grinning. “Which is something I can relate to.”
Jacques rolls his eyes. “And we know how that’s worked out for you.”
“I’m hoping if I start with the basics, something might work.” I sink my fork into my food. “And hopefully I don’t make things worse.”
“Test it on me,” Thomas offers. “If it makes me evil, they can stop me, and if you kill me, they can make sure you feel guilty the rest of your life.”
I give him a glare. “Thanks.”
He winks. “Thank me later.”
I plan to, and I think he knows it. “I guess I should say I’m trying to weaken the curse instead of break it,” I begin, and pick up my garlic bread. “It was laid with powerful magic, much more powerful than I’m capable of now, but I gotta start somewhere, right?”
Jacques meets my eye. “Right. We all have faith in you. You will break this curse.”
“No pressure or anything,” I reply with a smirk. “There’s one spell in there to get rid of negative energy. I’ll try that one first and see if it does something.”
“It will,” Gilbert assures me, having more confidence in my magic than I ever will. The sound of my ringtone echoes through the house, and I get up, hurrying to get it before I miss the call. It’s not someone from the station calling, but it is work-related.
“Bisset,” I answer.
“Hey, Ace, it’s Tiffany. Sorry to bug you after hours.”
“What’s up?”
“I have papers that need to be signed off on, and I’m hoping to get you to do it.”
“No problem, but I’m home and not at work.”
“I assumed so,” she says. “Which is why I have the papers with me and can stop by. It’ll just take a minute.”
I hesitate. There’s no way to tell her no without it being obvious. And it really will only take a minute. “Sure.”
“Great! Thanks, Ace. You
’re a lifesaver.”
“Do you need directions?”
“I think I know where it’s at, and I’ve seen the pictures you showed me. I’ll just look for the creepy gargoyles. Can’t miss them, right?”
Oh. Shit.
9
“Shit.” I hang up the phone and turn around.
“What’s wrong?” Hasan asks.
“Someone from work is stopping by for a minute so I can sign some papers.”
Thomas cocks an eyebrow. “And that’s bad?”
“No, but this person just happens to be the only person in the world who knows I inherited a house with four creepy gargoyles on it.”
“You think we’re creepy?” Gilbert retorts, faking offense.
“The creepiest,” I shoot right back, looking into his blue eyes. I wonder if he knows just how much I need him. He and Thomas both have this way of lightening the mood and easing my tension without even trying. They balance me out.
“But in all seriousness,” I say, “she’s going to wonder. I’ll just…I’ll tell her you were too creepy and I had you removed.”
“That hurts, Ace,” Gilbert goes on, pressing his hand to his chest. “But it’s believable.”
“I’m guessing you don’t want me to answer the door?” Thomas quips, flashing his cocky grin my way.
I laugh, tension leaving me. I’m so grateful for those two, and I want to make sure they know it.
“Maybe next time,” I say, shaking my head, and go back to the table. If Tiffany is coming from the station, we have some time. But she must have already been on her way, or was leaving from her house, because ten minutes later, she knocks on the door.
The guys go into the library, and I hope Tiffany doesn’t ask for a house tour. This place is impressive.
“Thank you so much,” Tiffany says when I open the door. She turns and looks at the bare spots on the porch steps. “What happened to your gargoyles?”
My gargoyles. I like the way that sounds.
“I didn’t like them. They were pretty creepy.”
Tiffany gives me an incredulous stare for a second before pulling the papers from her bag. She knows I don’t get creeped out. I like weird, and I don’t believe in anything paranormal.