Fated to the Warlock: An Arcane Affairs Agency Short

by Ava Glass

  “You all right?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” Steeling myself, I walk over, opening my senses to try and detect anything useful. I feel Gavin’s anxious gaze follow me.

  The file on Moorwolf Hall said that one of the regular hauntings was the sound of the same piano notes over and over. That should be a psychic recording manifesting itself as a residual haunting, right? Perhaps of the events I saw in my vision/possession?

  I concentrate. Nothing.

  I walk the perimeter of the room, navigating around ladders and covered furniture. Still nothing.

  “There should be a residual haunting in here, correct?”

  Gavin is crouched, carefully unpacking his ritual supplies. He pauses, clutching a shell bowl. “Yes,” he says, “at least according to what the Cobbolds told the Agency.”

  “They weren’t the most forthcoming, I know, but they wouldn’t have a reason to lie about this. If there’s a history of piano notes coming from this room, then I should be able to sense the recording, but I don’t.”

  Gavin rises to his feet. “Agent—Renee.” My first name? That’s new. “I can tell my powers are not still a hundred percent even after…” he nervously gestures trying to find the right words, “…last night. Are you sure your abilities aren’t similarly affected?”

  “I was able to sense the little boy outside just fine. If anything, I think my abilities had a temporary increase yesterday. I don’t think that’s it.” I pause, finally realizing what he just said. “Wait, you’re not at full strength?”

  “I don’t think whatever was holding me back is fully out of my system yet.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not what you think. I shouldn’t attempt to summon a demon in my present state, but I’ll be able to communicate with a spirit like Violet. Although my powers are being partially held back, I have a lot of reserves. I’ll have you know my rating is quite high.”

  “Yes, I read your file.”

  Gavin shoots me a withering look. In an instant it vanishes, replaced by wide-eyed realization. “Hang on.” He starts to pace, fingers alternating between twitching and splaying. I can practically see the idea bulb above his head. “You said Violet spoke of Malphas?” he says.

  “Correct.”

  “She at first said he would help her, and then later that he betrayed her?”

  “Yes. Why? Why all—?” I imitate his twitchy thinky hands.

  “Well, Malphas likes to betray people.” He begins to orbit the room like a lecturer from Agency training. “Look, we have a long history of a residual haunting in this room, of harmless piano notes. Then during renovations, the Cobbolds suddenly experience screams and flying objects. If the Cobbolds were here, I’d ask them if they ever heard the piano notes after that.”

  “Okay, and…?”

  “What if the piano notes were never a residual haunting? What if it was an actual spirit trapped in a loop?”

  “How could that happen? How could renovating this room free her from this hypothetical loop?”

  He sighs. “I shall have to ask my prime suspect.”

  “A demon? But you said you didn’t want to call one unless….” I trail off. I think I know where this is going. That now familiar stomach flutter rears its head. My breath quickens.

  “Renee,” Gavin asks, distant but serious, “may I ask something of you?”

  Gavin backs me against a shelf full of boxes in a large storage closet. The door is warded in case any Cobbolds arrive unannounced.

  “Hey, wait.” I halt his approach with a hand. “What if we don’t see a shower before the Cobbolds return?”

  “What do you propose?”

  I reach into my bag and flick out a packet of wipes.

  “Efficiency.”

  His lip curls into a very naughty grin. “All right then. Challenge accepted.” He gestures at the opening of my trousers. “Undo that.”

  I comply. I can’t believe we’re doing this. “What about you?” I ask.

  “In due time. Now,” he raises a finger, “unbutton your blouse.” He proceeds to trace a line along the buttons between my breasts, careful to keep a few millimeters between us. “I need to see these.”

  My nipples strain against fabric, longing to be freed. I slowly undo one button at a time. Gavin observes me with heavy lids. Bedroom eyes.

  Finally, I undo the clasp of my bra. My breasts spill out into the open. Gavin gasps. He unbuckles his belt. “Touch them.”

  I clasp and massage my breasts, squeezing them together. A sigh escapes me when I pinch my nipples.

  “Pull down your knickers.”

  I slide my hands down the curve of my waist and towards my hips. I hook my pants and panties and yank them to my knees in one motion.

  Gavin slips a hand into his straining pant bulge and squeezes. “Play with yourself,” he says, his voice husky.

  My heavy and moist pussy welcomes his demand. I rub slow circles over my clit, moaning in delight. My circles intensify to flicks. “Mmmm.”

  “Stop.”

  I freeze.

  “I want to do it myself.”

  After all, I did say efficient contact, not no contact.

  He kneels and takes my clit in his mouth. His arms are bolted to his sides. It’s just my pussy and his mouth. I thrust gently.

  I bite my fist to suppress my increasing moans. The door is warded. If the Cobbolds for some reason disobey Gavin’s request and come back from wherever they are, they would just ignore this room. Still, I couldn’t bear the idea of them hearing us through the walls.

  The building pressure shoves aside my concerns. My once gentle thrusts are no longer. Gavin risks a hand to steady me under him. I keen into my fist as I explode.

  After I subside, Gavin rises, and unzips his trousers. “Bend over.” He releases his cock and strokes it. In my daze, I hungrily eye it. I ignore his order to bend over and instead take him in my mouth, savoring every inch of his magnificent cock.

  “Cheeky,” he says, then grunts. He hovers a hand near my head, as if he means to grab my hair, but then he lowers it, as if remembering the rules.

  After a few good passes, I finally do as he says. I find a stack of boxes to rest my arms upon. I bend over, pussy aching in anticipation.

  He teases me with the head of his cock. It slides between my folds and under my hood. I growl, throwing my head back in both frustration and ecstasy. I hear his amused laugh. “So you want this then?”

  I must look feral right now.

  “Sod it. Can’t wait either.” He thrusts into my sopping cunt. We pick up speed quickly. I furiously flick my clit as he pumps me, eager for another orgasm. It doesn’t take long. Our muffled moans intertwine as we come together.

  A few wet wipes and breath mints later, we’re right as rain.

  As we dress, we discuss running tests to make sure Gavin is now sufficiently, um, focused to contain Malphas.

  “I’m sorry about all of this,” I tell him. I silently hope that this second, scorching session is enough and we can put this unprofessional behavior behind us. Yesterday’s question about the solstice party seems harmless compared to today. How far I’ve fallen.

  Gavin halts mid-button. His smile is nervous and tight. “I know enough shifters at The Agency to realize it’s not your fault, and I can’t say I haven’t had fun. I mean, a stunningly beautiful woman dropped into my lap from out of nowhere. However, I do wish the circumstances were different.”

  “Yeah. Same here.”

  “And there’s….”

  “We don’t have to talk about that yet.” We’ve known each other all of one day. I don’t want to fathom the full meaning of “fated mates” right now.

  “Right. C’mon. Let’s go interrogate a demon.”

  Chapter 6

  Gavin cuts a circle in the spiritual plane around us with his athame. In front of us is another circle, lined with candles and spell components. There’s a bowl representing a pit, and a goblet of wine. On a piece of paper
is Malphas’ sigil, which Gavin drew from memory.

  When completing the circle of protection around us, he proceeds with his summoning ritual. After our closet session, we determined he was fully focused and charged magically. It must have been quite a doozy.

  “Malphas, I brought you some wine,” he says, “so you’ll want to be a human now, and not a crow-thing.”

  In the other circle, a man in a simple black coat materializes. His nose is unsurprisingly beak-like. He reaches for the wine and takes it.

  “Ah, you know what I like.”

  “I’ve some questions for you.”

  “You always do.” He paces the circle like a caged animal. Every so often he takes a sip from his cup. I can sense he’s definitely a demon. All malevolence, cunning, and power. That circle better hold.

  “Do you remember this room?” Gavin asks, “I mean, this location. It probably looked different before.”

  “Perhaps. What have you been up to, Gavin the Warlock?” Malphas looks Gavin up and down, then he turns his attention toward me. What can he sense through Gavin’s barrier?

  After a few moments, Malphas laughs—a good belly laugh. “Oh, how delightfully wicked. You’ll do anything for your little cases, won’t you?”

  My breath catches.

  “The room, Malphas.” Gavin seems unphased. I suppose one has to be when facing down a demon. “Or off you go. No more wine.”

  “I rather prefer the images in your head, so yes, I suppose I was here not too long ago.”

  “Do you really mean not too long ago, or two centuries ago?”

  “You expect me to have your gnat’s perspective of time?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “She wasn’t a very good witch. All rage and no control.”

  “And.”

  “She wanted me to destroy this house. I offered her something else.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Malphas’ expression contorts in disgust. “Are you mated now, warlock, like some animal? How below you. How wholly unsuited for you. You’re not a connections sort of person. No covens, anything like that. You prefer being alone.”

  Gavin’s neck muscles twitch. “I joined the Agency, didn’t I?”

  Oh fuck, he’s slipping. This must be exhausting him. Eye on the ball, Gavin.

  I project my voice as well as I can. “Malphas, what did you offer her?”

  “So you do have a voice, wolf girl.”

  At that moment, another presence enters the room, one radiating fiery rage. Violet. Another follows. A wolf, no, a man. Both. A shifter.

  My stomach drops. Double fuck. “We’ve got company. Two incoming entities.”

  MALPHAS! Violet’s psychic yell is so loud. A wind gust crashes against the magical barriers Gavin erected. The candles outside them extinguish. Tarps fly. Still, the salt and magical energy hold.

  A ladder crashes into the barrier surrounding Malphas. “Oh, calm down, you got what you wanted,” he yells. “See, you’re even together again. It was only two hundred years until someone moved the piano. Hardly any time.”

  The ladder lifts and thwacks the barrier again.

  We cannot allow the spirits to break the barrier around Malphas.

  Gavin presses on with a new urgency. “Malphas, did you offer her eternal life?”

  Malphas mischievously shrugs.

  “But you tricked her, didn’t you? Tied her to the piano reliving the same moment over and over. Where is her body?”

  “It burned. I burned it. She couldn’t have flesh if she wanted to live forever, could she?”

  “But you separated them,” I say.

  That infuriating belly laugh again. A paint can ricochets off Malphas’ barrier.

  Gavin shakes his head in frustration. There is no more time for questions. “Oh, just go.” Gavin starts reciting the ritual to banish Malphas. The spirits continue their onslaught. I catch glimpses of them in my mind. Violet wears some kind of early nineteenth century gown. Edward’s image flickers between a pale blond man and a gray wolf. A few of their screams and growls are so powerful, I can hear them with my ears.

  I don’t know if Gavin can both maintain the barriers, and banish Malphas at the same time. Using my mind’s eye, I fix on the spirits’ locations. I fling salt at them. They reel. I brandish my athame. “You know what this is,” I threaten. “You’re not going to get revenge against this demon. Do not free him. Let us banish him.”

  “…back to hell from whence you came!” Gavin’s final words cause Malphas to begin to fade.

  “Good luck,” Malphas says with an amused smile. The goblet clatters to the floor, spilling leftover wine.

  Gavin stumbles in our protective circle. Summoning demons is draining to even the best witches and warlocks. I catch him—dropping my athame—and lead him to a kneeling position on the floor. Go, go shifter strength.

  WE WILL LIVE. The words send shudders through me. The entities crash against our barrier. I scoop up both our athames and strike.

  I lash in two directions. The spirits materialize when I make contact. Their shrieking faces are twisted—nothing like the images I saw in my mind.

  They vanish.

  I take a moment to breathe before scanning the room with my eyes and mind. “They’re not in this room,” I tell Gavin, kneeling next to him, “but they haven’t left this plane, either.”

  I tentatively put a hand on his arm. I sense his welcome, so I keep it there.

  He deflates into my lap. I freeze, stunned.

  “Bit tired,” he says.

  “Yeah. You did real good.” Two hostile spirits and a demon. Wow.

  I lightly brush his head. Somehow, this feels more intimate than our two sexual encounters combined.

  I should be terrified, but I’m not. I run a hand down his cheek.

  “We need to send for backup,” he says. For Gavin, this is admitting defeat.

  “Yes, we do,” I reply. “You can’t do everything yourself.”

  Gavin takes my hand and kisses it. “No,” he says, “but this should have been simple.”

  “The Cobbolds should have told The Agency they suspected the ghost was a witch.”

  “She—Violet—probably summoned Edward from the spirit realm after he died and then put him in that bottle herself. She was probably saving him for whatever plan she hatched with Malphas. She probably believed Malphas would let them live together forever. I suppose he did, just not in the way Violet intended.”

  “We’ll—I mean our replacements will try to summon them and do an exorcism.”

  “Right,” he says. “Maybe then we’ll go down to the village pub. Have a pint. Take things slow. We don’t have to get married tomorrow.”

  Gavin must be delirious, if he’s talking about that now. This is not how I envisioned having this conversation. I laugh at the absurdity of it all.

  I stroke his cheek some more. “A pint sounds great. Then maybe a cup of coffee in Portland.”

  He laughs. “We have so much to work out.”

  “I know. One step at a time though. First we call The Agency.” I reach in my bag for my smartphone.

  A new presence enters the room. Female, young, timid.

  “Hello?” I ask.

  “What?” Gavin rises from my lap. I shush him.

  I reach out with my senses. There’s a young woman in an apron and cap. The maid. She’s nowhere near as powerful as Violet the witch, so she will be difficult to pick up with my mind. I can’t take the time to process my EVP. I know she’s spoken to people before, though. “Please try to project what you say.”

  She materializes very faintly. Gavin jerks, startled.

  Master. Mistress.

  Another presence enters. The boy in the sailor suit. Both of them?

  “Something must be bad,” I tell Gavin. “Very bad.”

  “What?”

  “The maid said it’s something to do with ‘master and mistress’.”

  “Master and mistress? You m
ean…?”

  “The Cobbolds,” we say together. We leap to our feet, Gavin unsteadily.

  “They’re back? Why?” I grab my athame and stuff it in my bag. I check to make sure my pot of salt is in there too, along with my glock loaded with silver bullets. I pray I don’t have to use the gun.

  “I’m going to find them. If you don’t hear from me, go back to that closet we were in and barricade it, ward it, whatever. Then call HQ.”

  “Why are you going?”

  “I’m faster. I’ll get there faster. I also stand a better chance against two potentially possessed alpha shifters.”

  “My wolf girl,” his smile is sad. I return it.

  As I palm the glock, my hand brushes the bag of dried sleeping potion. I grasp it instead of the gun.

  I take off through the house. I use both my shifter and psychic senses to home in on the Cobbolds. I locate them in the foyer. Violet and Edward probably possessed them outside. They stand at the base of a stairway, examining a wall of portraits.

  As I slow to catch my breath, I find that James and Audrey’s hands are intertwined. I can sense the entities inside them. This is the first time Edward and Violet have been able to touch one another for centuries. After everything, I still can’t help but feel for them. I guess it’s been that sort of day.

  I sigh and ready my bag of sleeping potion. I saunter over to them as casually as I can. “You know? I can’t seem to get reception on my phone. Do you know what’s the best spot in the house?”

  The two of them turn. They regard me with blank faces.

  The new master and mistress of Moorwolf Hall.

  I toss a handful of powder at them, leaping away to avoid the cloud myself. Just smelling the dried potion had once affected me, a quarter shifter, but Edward and Violet occupy the bodies of full alpha shifters with much keener senses.

  James and Audrey collapse onto the floor.

  I exhale, clutching my stomach. My legs are a bit unsteady, but it’s from relief, not any stray potion. Holding my breath, I sprinkle a little more powder on the Cobbold’s noses for good measure. I create a salt circle around them and start burning some sage.