Dangerous Hexes

by A. L. Tyler

  “I do want it,” I said, returning his gaze. “I’m just not... ready.”

  I walked across the hall to put on dry clothes, closing the door behind me.

  “You mind telling me when you’re going to be ready?” Angel called. “Because as nice as it would be, you’re not the only thing I have going on in my life.”

  I wrung out my hair and pursed my lips as I hung my wet slacks and shirt over the end of the wrought iron bed frame. When was I going to be ready?

  I sure as hell wish I knew.

  “She’s ready now.”

  “This is not stuff that can be forced, Nicolas Warren.”

  “She’s dying.”

  I pulled on new clothes and spun my hair up into a bun before opening the door. “She’s right here. What does your treatment plan entail?”

  Angel’s eyes wandered over me. She smiled a little. “Some occupational therapy. Better ways to purge than soaking yourself. Honesty is going to be a big thing. Sound like something you can manage?”

  Ironically, yes, I could handle being honest. “No. I can’t. I’m not ready yet.”

  Angel’s eyes moved down and to the side, and it took me a moment to realize that my fingertips were smoking again. I hid my hand behind my back.

  “That’s fine,” Angel said loudly, silencing the start of another protest from Nick. “You’ll come around when you’re ready. It is nice to see Nick moving on with a nice girl.”

  I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes.

  Nick cleared his throat. “We’re not—”

  “I was talking about what happened with Joe,” Angel said with no humor. Her voice was full of fire and judgment, and I wasn’t sure if I liked her. “You assumed something different?”

  Nick’s eyes locked with mine, and he seemed quietly apologetic for the confrontation.

  Nick glared. “This is a professional relationship.”

  Angel set her jaw and lifted her chin. She studied my face. “Uh huh. Does she know who she resembles?”

  Nick hissed as he exhaled. “Angel.”

  “In attitude. You always like to talk about your wife’s attitude.”

  She was trying to bait me, and I wasn’t going to have it. “Thank you for your offer to help. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  Nick’s wife and children died the night he became a vampire several decades before. He still kept pieces of his previous life around, but he never openly discussed his loss. The anniversary of the event drove him to drink.

  Angel flashed a smile at my dismissal. She leaned in and placed a hand on my shoulder. I tried to shake her off, but she was stronger than she looked.

  She stared straight into my eyes. The world went still and quiet around me. The magic went still and quiet inside me, and I felt my freezing fingers return to normal.

  “I’m sure you will,” Angel said quietly. “Remember my price, Jette. Honesty.”

  She let go of my shoulder and turned to go. The magic around us hummed back to life in my ears. I stood in the doorway, feeling weak as Nick gave me another disappointed glare before showing Angel out.

  The front door closed and their angry whispers ceased. Nick was back in the hall with the freakish speed of an angry vampire.

  “You said you’d accept treatment.”

  His tone was deadly calm. I knew he wouldn’t attack me, but I’d seen him in action enough times. His tense shoulders and spread stance meant he wanted to fight.

  The flames lit on my fingers. I was getting better at directing the inferno away from self-harm, but I held my hand a little further from my clothes just to be sure.

  Nick didn’t even glance down.

  Vampires owned by the Bleak only possessed minor hypnotic abilities compared to their night-bound wild brethren, but what Nick still had was enough. I couldn’t look away from his stare, and it gave me a sharp reminder that he had all the finely tuned experience I lacked in magic combat.

  I kept my chin high. “I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

  Breaking the stare felt like slogging through half-set cement, but I managed to push past him and out the door. Every step got easier as I neared the kitchen, hoping he was done.

  With only one person eating, his fridge still looked sadly empty. I pulled out an energy drink and turned back.

  He was standing right behind me. Too close, and without making a sound. It used to freak me out, but I’d come to accept that vampires just rolled that way. Especially ones that were pissed.

  I took a deep breath and tried to look sorry as I popped open the can. Disappointment was etched on his face. He didn’t say anything, so I assumed we had reconciled our differences.

  “I’m good now. For a while, at least. I guess we should get some information on George Roost,” I said. “Off to the archive?”

  His breathing was almost non-existent. “We should find Millie Corm first. I’m more worried about what she’s up to than reporting stolen property.”

  “George could probably tell us what she wants with the necklace,” I said. “And, we’re not going to find Millie until the third. Tomorrow. Breakfast night.”

  Nick cocked an eyebrow. “Breakfast night?”

  “It’s something Alex used to do.” I looked away. “All night breakfast places. The third and twenty-third, every month, always. He scheduled everything else around it. There’s only two or three in Fallvale. If this was done to get my attention, I guarantee that’s where we should look first. And we can get some information on George in the meantime.”

  “It’s something Alex used to do.”

  Hearing him say it made me want to throw up. “Yeah.”

  Nick’s eye twitched. “I’ll call for backup.”

  I turned away, lost in my memories. “That’s a good idea.”

  Chapter 4

  FOR ALL THE POWER THEY held, the Bleak was a slow beast. Wide and lumbering, they didn’t like to change course once a direction had been set. Some hundreds of years earlier they had committed to a paper system of records keeping because natural elements were easy to manipulate and fetch with magic.

  They were modernizing their collection, but it was centuries worth of paper, and magic didn’t play well with electronics. They were scanning by hand. The last time I’d checked, they had only digitized an estimated two percent of their holdings.

  While the rest of the world had evolved into online databases, Nick and I still had to deal with asshole gatekeepers.

  “Roost,” I said again. I spelled it out for him. “First name George.”

  He glared and shook his head as he thumbed through the four-foot stack his initial spell had called. Bleak librarians were sadly nothing like the human variety, as the later typically devoted themselves to being useful while the former existed to make your life hell.

  It was irritating enough being back at records central. It was a series of warehouses collapsed into a much smaller space by magical means. Every time I entered, I had to hear the spells collapse my physical form—akin to the noise ones ears make when popping on an airplane—and it never failed to put me on edge. Inside, it was a dark, dusty, ill-kept place. If the compression wasn’t disorienting enough, the lights were all magically derived and came from everywhere. No one cast a shadow inside records. While it was easy enough to see, the towering stacks still gave the illusion that everyone was wandering in a descending twilight.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific. Do you have hair and eye color?”

  I stifled the curse words on my tongue. “No. He’s alive. You’re telling me all of the men in that stack are alive?”

  “Death records are kept separately. Cross referencing will take longer.”

  Nick stepped up next to me. “Don.”

  Don eyed Nick suspiciously. He was a bald man of average height with a poorly enchanted receding hairline and a set of spectacles that were supposed to make finding what he sought easy. The spell was audibly wearing thin. “Warren.”

  “Just give
us copies of everything.”

  Don eyed the stack again. “That’s a fuck of a lot of copies.”

  “You can give me the copies, or you can sit here and sort through it all until we find what we need.”

  Don looked at the papers again. He took off his spectacles and set both palms firmly on the counter. “You want these at your east coast residence?”

  “Fowl Gulch,” Nick said. “Living room, please.”

  Don was already walking away, framed on either side by the shelves that sagged with the weight of centuries. “They go where they go, Warren.”

  We turned to go. Exiting records was about as much fun for me as entering, and Nick gave me a look when I cringed. I guessed it wasn’t nearly as unsettling when one couldn’t hear the magic popping everything back out to standard size.

  “We’re going to sort that stack ourselves?” I asked.

  “Hell no. I’m just going to do Don’s job like I always do. You ready?”

  I nodded.

  Nick pulled a rune-carved ametrine from his pocket. “Via.”

  He tossed it into the air before us and the channel between us and Fowl Gulch opened. We stepped through a gust of wind and into the alley behind his apartment.

  The Bleak weren’t fond of using magic for transportation. They tracked every trip because of the massive potential for abuse, and anyone caught using such spells without express permission faced immediate trial and punishment.

  Some lucky agents were able to get permission to travel at will. While that travel was still highly regulated and tracked, it did make life a lot easier. Someday, I might get those privileges.

  Nick never would. He was a great handler, but he was also a vampire. The Bleak severely restricted some privileges for vampires.

  Nick had a long record of success, though. When he asked for a permit he was shortlisted to receive it, and a trip to records was virtually assured. There was only one way to get there without magic, and it wasn’t easy.

  Back in Nick’s living room, we found the last glow of sunset illuminating papers strewn haphazardly across every surface. It looked like a hurricane had come through.

  “Good old Don,” Nick grumbled under his breath. He picked up the bank papers concerning the necklace from where he’d left them by the sink.

  He raised his left hand, and my eyes fell on the heavy red jasper ring he wore. He wasn’t a born witch like I was, and as such, he used certain talismans to perform his learned magic. Most people preferred aventurine, but even sporting a heavy gold band, I’d always found his choice fitting and classy.

  “Ignvenient.”

  The papers ignited before us and my anxiety peaked. As the papers shriveled and withered in flame and sparks, ice formed on my fingertips.

  Nick did a double take as my heart rate tripled.

  “A little warning next time,” I mumbled. I squeezed my fist in defiance, but the magic didn’t recede back into my core until I loosened my grip.

  Ashes covered every surface and lingered in the air. The smoke alarm over our heads started to scream, and Nick cursed under his breath.

  “Got it.” I raised my fist and shot a pillar of cold at it until the noise stopped. Nick had high ceilings. I covered it in a thin layer of ice before throwing open the windows.

  Nick pawed through the ashes until he had collected a sizable stack of unburned pages. He waved his hand. “Impetulvis.”

  A small tempest whipped up in the room, sending the bulk of the mess flying out the windows.

  “There’s going to be a maid in here tomorrow,” he said, studying the pages. “Restrain yourself accordingly.”

  I positioned myself behind him, reading over his shoulder. “You set your living room on fire regularly?”

  He shrugged. “It only burns the stuff I don’t want.”

  “Fancy spell work for a vampire.”

  He glanced at me over his shoulder before going back to the pages. “I had an excellent teacher. I’ll get you some copies of this. We should get you home, though. It’s late.”

  I had nearly forgotten. Based on his warning about a maid, Nick had nearly forgotten, too.

  I was supposed to move out today.

  “Right.” I frowned. I brushed off his questioning glance. “I just thought we might review this together. That’s all.”

  “We can talk. I’ll drive you.” He stood and went for his jacket.

  “Right.” I moved down the hall.

  My clothes were still slung over the end of the bed, slightly damp. I really needed to perfect a drying spell. One that didn’t end with something catching fire like all the other spells I’d attempted.

  I shoved everything into my bag. If he wanted me out, I would make it work. Even if I wanted to stay.

  Even if I wasn’t ready.

  Even if the nightmares continued, and I woke up alone in a strange room in a strange house. I squeezed my eyes shut as cold sweat broke out on my skin.

  Tell me I’m not going to pull the trigger.

  I would find a way to make it work. I swallowed the dry knot in my throat. I’m going to burn the house down.

  I shoved the thought firmly back behind the door in my mind where I kept everything that scared me. I didn’t want to think about it now. I wasn’t Nick’s problem, and I wasn’t a child.

  I shouldered my bag and marched back down the hall, grabbing my coat and keys from the hooks by the door.

  “I can drive myself,” I said with a small smile. “Not a big deal. Really.”

  Nick shook his head and frowned. “I’ll drive you. It’s not a problem. We need to discuss this case.”

  “You’ll have to pick me up for work tomorrow.”

  He shrugged. “The property’s been vacant for a while and Farrow knew some sketchy people. You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I can take care of myself.” I crossed my arms.

  “I’m not saying you can’t.” He smirked. “I’m just remembering the last time you went to a sketchy house by yourself. And the guns. And the hostage. And me, lying on the floor in a world of hurt—”

  “Got it.” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go.”

  BEFORE HIS DEATH, FARROW Danvers lived in a beautiful three-story home in the hipster-techie town of Sargasso. It was twenty minutes from Nick’s apartment in Fowl Gulch and a little more than thirty on the highway from my job in Fallvale. The brick exterior and wrought iron fence made it look like a small castle.

  My castle. That was the positive I clung to.

  The interior was more reminiscent of a dump.

  About a week prior, Nick had helped me with an initial cleaning. We’d removed all the food garbage to keep the mice at bay. It wasn’t helping much.

  As I looked around at the garage-sale furniture and loads of contraband magic that I had inherited, I sighed.

  “Do you even have a place to sleep in all of this?” Nick asked. His eyes wandered over the dirty floors and stained walls. “Have you even been back here since we cleaned?”

  Truth was that I was going to sleep in the bath tub. Being alone in a strange place made me nervous, and that was a bad thing for someone suffering from mana burn. I didn’t delude myself into believing that I could stop myself from accidentally burning the house down in my sleep.

  “Yeah,” I said lightly. “He’s got four guest rooms. I have more than enough places to sleep.”

  Farrow had paid for this house using money he’d gotten from the Bleak for becoming a snitch. I wasn’t a big fan of that.

  He’d taken their money and double-timed them by helping people escape them. I was a fan of that.

  Nick stood in the doorway. I shrugged.

  “I guess this is it.” I forced a smile.

  He cast one more dubious glance around the room and heaved a sigh. He nodded. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I shut the door. When I turned back to the quiet house, I shook my head and braced myself. The entryway was lit by one dim bulb plugged into a lamp
resting on the floor. An old tube television rested on a folding stand in the corner, power cords dangling down behind. An old, beat-down and dirty living room set surrounded it.

  The kitchen was empty. I didn’t have a car there, but I did have my cell phone. I might be able to order something from a late-night place and then stick it in the fridge for breakfast the next day.

  It was going to be a long road to calling this place home.

  I dropped my bag on the floor and went to get the vacuum from the closet. Now was as good a time as ever.

  Just as I plugged it in, the doorbell rang. I could hear Nick’s quiet arsenal, tucked into the hem of his coat, through the door.

  “Forget something?” I asked.

  He held out copies of George Roost’s files. “I thought you might want these. Can I come in?”

  He looked uncomfortable asking. My pause had already made it awkward; vampires owned by the Bleak couldn’t enter personal residences unless invited without harming themselves. As I was now technically taking up residence, the rule must have kicked in.

  “You could use the sleep,” he said. “And I don’t actually have anywhere to be, so—”

  “Of course,” I said shortly. “Come in. You don’t have to—”

  “I’ll clean,” he said with finality. He stepped inside. “You sleep.”

  It didn’t feel fair. In my head, I was starting to line up reasons he didn’t need to stay.

  “Honesty,” Nick said. He looked me in the eye. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. Do you want me to stay?”

  He caught me off guard. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

  “You need a friend right now,” he said, looking even more uncomfortable. “We’re friends. I know you’re still dealing with what happened in that alley.”

  “We’re friends,” I repeated, a little too sharply and quickly. I didn’t want to discuss the alley again. The mention alone made the magic flare in my chest. I needed the tub—soon.

  Nick flashed a relieved smile and his posture relaxed. We were done talking, and I was grateful.

  “Honesty. Yes. Please, stay,” I said. I could already feel the panic rising in my chest, and I was fighting to keep my breathing calm and regular. “I’ll... um, I’m just going to get ready for bed, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”