I keep my head down as the three guys at his table shout over one another regarding the merits—or lack thereof—of the song filling the space just above the background murmur of conversations. Five yards to the staircase that leads up to the second floor. I could change directions now, but switching my trajectory would be more conspicuous than simply staying course.
As I pass by Oscar’s table, I let out a sigh of relief. I keep my eyes glued to the dusty red velvet curtain covering the stairwell, already imagining climbing into bed. Even though Lillian insisted I stay in one of the suites in her mansion and the four-poster bed and thousand-thread-count bedsheets looked like they were made for royalty of some kind, not one night went by when I didn’t dream of being back here on a simple queen sized mattress with the muffled sounds of music seeping through the floor from the bar below.
I can almost feel the cool caress of crisp, white sheets when Oscar’s voice cuts through the din.
“That’s not that daemon, is it?”
He could be talking about anyone. There are dozens of daemons in the bar right now. I just need to keep my head down and keep moving.
But a second voice answers before I’ve made it past the next table. “Yeah, it’s Silas.”
My spine straightens at the sound of my name, and even though somewhere deep inside, part of me begs my legs to keep going, a second later, Oscar and the rest of the guys at his table are shouting my name and, like an idiot with a grin plastered to my face, I’m turning around and greeting them like old friends. It’s how I acted when I was bound to Lillian. Over the years, I’ve found it’s best to interact with others the way they signal I should—and these asshats always pretended like we were frat brothers reunited after years apart. It’s habit to respond to their voices, and I hate myself for not being strong enough to resist.
When I’m still making my way back to their table, Gus—the one who originally called my name—pulls over a stool from a nearby table. I sit as I greet them each in turn. Oscar and Gus, of course, plus George and Joe. Of the four of them, Joe is the only one I can tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time—and that’s because he mostly keeps to himself. Even now, while the others slap me on the shoulder and greet me like it’s been years—not days—since our last encounter, Joe gives only a firm handshake and a curt smile.
“I can’t believe this arsehole,” Oscar says when he’s sick of not being the center of attention. “Didn’t even come say goodbye after Lillian gave him the ole heave-ho.”
I find it hard to believe Oscar gives two shits about me leaving the way I did, but I figure it’s in my best interest to play along anyway. “I had business to get too. You understand.”
Although I’m purposefully vague, the look spreading across the guys’ faces tells me they all took the same meaning. Oscar elbows George in the chest. “Wanted to catch some tail as soon as it was safe, eh?”
“Wouldn’t want to see what Lillian would do to you if she smelled some bird on you,” George agrees, grinning so hard it’s got to hurt his face.
I don’t bother pointing out that, despite her frequent overtures, nothing sexual ever happened between me and Lillian. I’d be willing to bet she would have invited me into her bed if I’d ever shown the slightest interest, but I didn’t—and she never went so far as ordering me to drop my pants.
Gus cranes his neck, revealing Lillian’s mark—an ankh made of flame—tattooed behind his ear as he looks around the bar expectantly. “She here?”
A cold twist of fear ratchets my stomach. For an instant, I’m sure he’s talking about Lillian. But no sooner do I relax—secure in the knowledge that there’s no way Lillian Castle would step foot in a place like this—than a new thought takes my breath away. He’s talking about the girl I left for. Bryn.
Although I didn’t take off for the reason they all think, the fact remains that I beat feet out of Lillian’s place so I could track her down and break the curse I’d been forced to cast on her—the one I’d also been afflicted with.
I force what I hope approximates an easygoing smile. “She wasn’t a keeper.”
The words bring with them the acrid tang of bile. The truth is, I would’ve given anything to stay with her. But it wasn’t meant to be.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, eventually I’ll believe it.
“That’s too bad,” Oscar says, his tone thick and overly friendly. “It’d make me feel loads better if I knew you left us for a better station, if you know what I mean.”
I nod, fighting to keep my expression neutral. It seems in his head, he imagines I simply told Lillian I was quitting my job as her personal daemon and went off to try my luck elsewhere. Like I had my daemon resume up on some website and I was itching for a new opportunity. Can he really not understand how little control I have over my life? The only reason Lillian let me out of her service before my one year was up is because her hold on me would have broken anyway as soon as the full moon came and the curse killed its target.
“Her new daemon is a joke,” Gus says. “I was out with him, checking on of Lillian’s warehouses, and we ran into some nom cop who threatened to arrest us for trespassing. The daemon tried to Jedi mind trick the guy into leaving us alone, but it would only hold like ten seconds before he remembered what he was doing and came after us again.”
“He’s pretty pathetic.” Joe pauses to sip from the tumbler of ruby liquid in front of him. “I guess Lillian’s got a plan for him since she hasn’t cut him loose yet, but I wish you were still around.”
“Yeah,” Gus agrees. “We could use you for what the boss’s got planned.”
There’s something about the way he says it that makes my hair stand on end. Lillian always has one thing or another going on. Hijacking cargo trucks and ships. Fencing stolen goods. She even dabbles in supernatural trafficking. But something tells me Gus has something else in mind.
It doesn’t concern me anymore. Lillian bound me once, which means I can never again be compelled to do her bidding. I don’t care who she blackmails or extorts. Who she hurts is no longer my business.
But even as I try to convince myself, I know it’s not entirely true. I was never directly involved in any of her supernatural slave trade, but I overheard plenty of conversations. No longer are those people nameless, faceless victims. Now, I can’t help seeing Bryn’s face—and Calder’s. They were both held captive by people more powerful than they were. And although I know they’re both safe now, it’s not enough. If Lillian is upping the ante on trafficking, maybe there’s something I can do to stop it.
I rearrange my features into the most curious expression I can muster. “Yeah? What’s Lillian up to now?”
A sly smile spreads across Oscar’s face, but Joe shakes his head. “He’s not working for her anymore,” Joe says.
Oscar lifts a shoulder, wrinkling his nose. “But we’re mates. I bet he’d get a kick out of it.”
I struggle to school my features. I want to look mildly interested, but like I could take or leave the information. But with each passing moment, my need to know what’s happening grows.
“Nah, it’s okay,” I say, my voice light. Even. “I get it. I’m not one of you anymore. Gotta keep the boss’ business secret. I understand.”
Oscar presses his lips into a firm line before turning to Joe. The two seem to have a conversation with their eyes. I keep my breaths steady, despite the thundering of my heartbeat in my ears.
“All right, all right,” Joe says at last.
Oscar grins triumphantly. “I can’t tell you everything, but I will say this: be thankful magical drugs don’t work on daemons, because by week’s end there won’t be anywhere that’s safe from euphorium.”
The words hit me like a sucker punch. Euphorium. It’s the one market Lillian has never entered because the drug was created by Mona’s people. Many have attempted to reverse engineer the formula, but no one has been able to in the whole time it’s been in use.
Something about Mona’s s
tory has nagged me since this morning. Why would Lillian employ psychics to torture Mona? She isn’t the kind of woman who pulls punches, so it isn’t as if she would have been squeamish about having someone put the hurt on Mona. But with this new information, everything clicks into place: Lillian used psychics because she was searching for information in Mona’s head. While I’m sure she doesn’t have the formula for euphorium memorized, there are plenty more details about the operation that could be fresh in her mind.
As these thoughts chase each other, I do everything in my power to keep my concern off my face. I need Oscar and the others to believe I think dosing unsuspecting people with euphorium is a hilarious idea.
But as soon as I can get away from these fuckers, I need to make a plan. There’s no way I can sit back and let this happen.
Chapter Six
Calder
Bryn was quiet at dinner. Too quiet. Even though she smiled through my story of the first time I ever stopped here in Wisdom, it didn’t reach her eyes. And although she was decisive about what she ordered, when the dish came, she picked at it as if it were the least appetizing meal she’d ever laid eyes on.
When she gets up midway through the meal to use the bathroom, Taj tells me about how he found her chatting with a woman and her daughter in the town square, but he can’t lay a finger on what about the interaction might have upset her.
Maybe we shouldn’t have stopped here. At the time, taking a detour had seemed like a great idea. As excited as Bryn is to make it to the Front and figure out what the next phase of her life will look like, pushing through to arrive at midnight won’t get her answers any sooner than showing up tomorrow morning. Besides, part of me isn’t ready to get back to the normal cadence of my own life. So much has changed since I left the Front two weeks ago to back Taj up on his mission to free Bryn from Mona’s organization. Facing down your own mortality changes a man’s perspective on everything in life. Even before the curse, I was having a difficult time seeing what my future would hold once Bryn was back in it. I love working with the Front. Rescuing supernaturals who are being mistreated and held against their will is more than just a noble cause—it’s my passion. If Bryn doesn’t want to join our ranks, I’m not sure what that means for me. The only thing I know for sure is I don’t want to live another day of my life without her in it.
So maybe stopping off in Wisdom was more for me than her. Before stepping back into my real life, I wanted to have a normal evening. I wanted to take my girlfriend on a date.
…With her other boyfriend.
I suppose “normal” is a relative term.
At the end of the meal, we box up Bryn’s leftovers—and Taj’s, since he decided to have a pre-dinner sandwich. As Taj leads the way to the hotel on the outskirts of town where I managed to find a room, Bryn and I keep pace behind, our fingers twined together.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” I keep my voice low so that only she can hear it. It’s not that I want to keep Taj out of the moment, but I imagine if she wanted to discuss whatever’s bothering her with the two of us, she had ample time at dinner. Besides, Taj is too distracted pointing at newly-erected decorations for the town festival and calling to jovial strangers as they stream out of restaurants and taverns.
Bryn’s fingers twitch, but she doesn’t remove her hand from mine. She shakes her head, and for a moment I’m sure that’ll be the end of it. But before I can formulate something more to say, she releases a long sigh. “I’m just thinking about my mom.”
My heart twists. She doesn’t talk about her mother often. In fact, I think the only time she ever brought the woman up in my presence is when she told me how she ended up in Mona’s collection.
My own family history is complicated, but it’s nothing compared to hers. I think my parents loved me as best they could, but they were both so focused on their careers, I kind of fell through the cracks. By the time I was a teenager and it was clear that my psychic skills were manifesting as telekinetic ability—and with poor control at that—I couldn’t shake the sense that my telepath parents were disappointed in me. I ran away from home a few times—mostly to see if they would miss me if I was gone. The first couple of times, the police caught up with me pretty quickly. The final time, I got picked up by some of Mona’s thugs and ended up in her collection.
I located them after the Front rescued me, and while they seemed genuinely pleased to learn I was still alive, our contact since then has been limited to calls on birthdays and holidays.
Still, my story is nothing like what Bryn went through with her own mother.
“Is thinking about her good or bad?” I hate to have to ask the question. A good boyfriend should know the answer already, shouldn’t he? But I don’t want to say the wrong thing and make everything worse.
She bites her lower lip in contemplation. “I’m really not sure. I met a girl earlier, and I saw how loving her mother is. Same situation as me—the girl’s dad died. But her mom is… fine.” She stops in her tracks, forcing me to come to a halt as well. “Is it wrong that I’m jealous? I just keep thinking how different my life could have been if my mom had just been stronger, you know?”
Her breath catches on the next inhale, and I pull her against my chest. “Hey.” I pause to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “You’re allowed to feel however you feel. Don’t feel bad for envying something you didn’t have. But you don’t have to dwell on it, either. All the shit in your past? You can leave it there. You get to make your future what you want. And you’ve got me and Taj. We can build our futures together.”
She releases a shaky breath, trembling in my arms. As she sucks in a few more lungfuls of air to steady herself, Taj finally realizes we’re not following and doubles back. Although it’s clear in his dark eyes he’d like nothing more than to embrace the woman we both adore—even if it means wrapping his long arms around me, too—he keeps a polite distance, allowing me to comfort her in the moment.
Affection for Taj rushes up in me, so fast and strong the force of it takes my breath away. Before he got Bryn out of Mona’s compound, the two of us were coworkers and friends. Since then, our relationship has morphed into something I have yet to put a name to. We both love Bryn, and our darling girl never put us in the position of pitting ourselves against each other to vie for her affections. She’s invited us into something that three weeks ago, I wouldn’t have believed possible. And although at first, I accepted the arrangement only grudgingly because it was what she wanted, it dawns on me now that I’m glad for Taj’s steady presence. Right now, he could push his way into this moment and demand to know what’s going on. Even if the action came out of concern rather than jealousy, it would be the wrong move for Bryn. So instead he stands at a distance, silent and ready. He knows when to back off and when to press in. He even has a knack for calling me out when my own perceptions and attitudes need adjusting.
I’m not only glad Bryn has a guy like him in her corner, I’m glad I do too.
When Bryn’s breaths even out, I raise my chin toward Taj. “How much farther to the hotel?”
He glances down at the map app on his phone. “Just around the corner.” His gaze lands on Bryn as she emerges from the safety of my embrace. The tension in his shoulders doesn’t drain until she offers a tiny smile.
“Lead the way,” I say, but before he takes more than a few steps, I catch up to him and relieve him of the bag of takeout containers. His brow furrows for only a moment before dropping back and taking up my place at Bryn’s side.
Five minutes later, we’re on the hotel’s second floor, using the key card to allow us entry into what the desk attendant informed us is their last empty room. For as small a town as Wisdom, the quality of the hotel surprises me. While most I’ve stayed in have a generic, industrial feel with thin, gaudily-patterned carpet and mass-produced artwork on the walls, this one feels more plush and homey—as if we’ve stepped into a guest room at a friend’s house. The legs of both the dresser and the desk have g
entle curves, unlike the severe angles of most hotel furniture, and there are vases of surprisingly lifelike fake flowers on the bedside tables. There is a basket of fruit on the counter above the mini-fridge.
Bryn makes her way to the bed, but once she’s kicked off her shoes, she simply sits at the end, staring blankly at the small flat-screen TV on the wall. From the expression on her face, I’m sure her mind is still spinning with a thousand different scenarios of a life that could have happened if only her mother hadn’t chosen to drown her grief in euphorium.
Taj lowers himself onto the mattress just behind her. His hands caress her shoulders and slide down her back for a few moments before switching to a gentle massage. By degrees, Bryn’s eyes close and her body relaxes against his touch.
I lean against the wall, watching as Taj takes his time working out the tension in her muscles. Minutes pass before the tightness in Bryn’s face finally evaporates, and I find my own breathing comes easier when it does.
Although I don’t want to intrude on Taj’s time with our girl, I can’t resist the urge to help him loosen her up. Today has been a hard one. In addition to all these thoughts about her mother and the life she could have had, this morning Bryn had to deal with Mona—the woman who held her captive and twisted her magic into something deadly. My experience with Mona wasn’t nearly so dark, yet seeing her filled me simultaneously with rage and terror. Although I knew I was safe in the restaurant and that Mona held no power over me, somewhere in the back of my mind, the teenage boy who was beaten and dragged into her collection feared punishment from the cruel monster who used to haunt my nightmares.
Rebel Witch Page 4