by Layla Nash
“Right now, Stefan.” Leif sounded tired more than anything. “Follow the process.”
A vein bulged in the External’s temple, and I held my breath. He ground out, “Very well. Agent Simons, outside, will assist you with—”
“This one too.”
“She’s not one of yours.”
“They are all mine today. Release her.”
Stefan made a sharp, shooing gesture at me, as if he could hurl me through the wall based on hate alone. I braced myself to rise, turning, and Leif registered the smallest amount of surprise at seeing me. Then his focus snapped to my broken nose and the blood no doubt crusting my lips and chin.
His eyes were gray when he was happy, ice blue when he grew angry, and gold when he was furious beyond all reason. They were molten copper as he crouched in front of me, catching my chin so he could examine my nose. His voice dropped an octave or two. “Who did that?”
Before I could answer, listing to the side as my brain throbbed, Stefan tried to wedge between us. “She refused to cooperate and attacked me. Worry about your own pack before she drags you down, too.”
“She is a friend of my pack,” Leif said, growling. I held my breath; that was a lie dangerous for us both. His words broke like ice on ice. “You’ve drawn blood, Stefan. You will pay in kind.”
I faced two Stefans as he stood over Leif’s shoulder, as he sauntered back into the main room and picked my bag up from the table. He said, unconcerned, “We’re done. For now.”
With Leif’s help, I stood and shuffled after the External until I could lean against the table, staring at the pile of my belongings. The battered photo, half-hidden and unremarked-upon near the bottom, gave me courage. As Stefan turned away, I said, “My ring.”
His lip curled, but he gestured at the female External. “Give it to her.”
“She’s not a mender.”
I took the ring from her, tempted to hex her to demonstrate why antagonizing a summoner was a dangerous game. I imagined all the destruction I could wreak on them for drawing my blood, and swayed. Leif steadied me even as he barked orders at the grim Styrma overseeing the Externals’ departure, and the tension broke. The urge for vengeance faded. I slid the ring back on, thinking of Sam instead. It was the only gift of his I kept.
I focused on my bag, ignoring the sidelong looks from my coworkers. Leif nudged me toward a chair. “Sit. I’ll be back.”
I shut my swelling eye as I tried to inventory everything, every movement deliberate to keep my head and stomach in the right place. The Externals dragged their feet as they packed up and departed, attitude broadcasting that they weren’t driven away by the Styrma or Leif. I touched the family photo before tucking it away.
Leif pulled a chair up next to me. “Couldn’t even go ten hours without running into Stefan, hmm?”
“If you say ‘I told you so,’ I’m never speaking to you again,” I said, then rested my head on my arms. It hurt my nose, but it kept the room from spinning.
“I’ll get one of the menders.” A warm hand settled on my shoulder, comforting but laden with complications.
I lifted my head, “No, it’s—” but cut off under the intensity of his gaze. I took a deep breath. “I just need to sit a moment.”
“Perfect.” He flipped open the ever-present notebook. “And I told you so, by the way. I distinctly remember saying to avoid Stefan.”
Nausea burbled in my stomach enough I considered puking on his shoes to pay him back. Instead I only watched him with my good eye, pain and what had to be a concussion making me unwise. “And you promised me a day’s warning, so that’s the second time your chivalry failed me. Bad form, wolf.”
He came dangerously close to laughing, ducking his head to hide a smile as he drew his chair a little closer. I’d forgotten what a force he could be when he turned on the charm: it nearly blinded me as he looked up, running a hand over his short hair, gray eyes still flecked with gold. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
Caught in his gaze, I couldn’t look away. My heartbeat slowed and the headache receded and a sense of easy familiarity, of comfort, struck me. Like rumpled sheets on a Sunday morning, still warm and welcoming. I felt almost drunk as I said, “Promise?”
Sparks of red pack magic dotted my vision as he smiled, just about to answer when one of Leif’s Styrma, standing next to us for the saints only knew how long, cleared his throat. He grinned and studied me as he handed a stack of papers to Leif. “The complaints filed by Agent Tyroler.”
“Thank you, Adam.” Leif took the papers, still watching me. The other man remained, rocking back on his heels as he glanced between us, until Leif half-turned. “Something else I can help you with, wolf?”
“Nope.” He beamed.
“Then go take statements while I finish questioning this witch.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” The grin spread more and I massaged my temples. Just wonderful.
The Chief Investigator’s eyes narrowed and his voice, still quiet, held a knife’s edge. “Get lost, Adam.”
“Sure thing, boss,” he said with no small amount of glee, and retreated to where more of the Styrma waited. Once Adam joined them, the whispering started and several pairs of eyes focused on Leif and me.
Leif rubbed his jaw. “They gossip worse than the jackals,” he said under his breath, then tucked away his notebook. “What did Stefan want?”
“Something about unauthorized magic,” I said, though for the life of me I couldn’t remember. I studied his dark jeans. He looked neat and clean with a pressed dress shirt and a charcoal sport coat, while I was a bloody, rumpled mess. Again.
I contemplated the gleam of his barely-visible French cufflinks until Leif said, “Lily?”
“Sorry.” I flushed at being caught staring at him as he waited for a better answer. “Having trouble concentrating.”
“Me too,” he said. “Did Stefan ask about anything else? Threaten anything?”
He wouldn’t stay in one place, his face drifting back and forth in front of me no matter how much I blinked. I squinted, wishing I could just lie down. “I don’t think so.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.” I gave up trying to see through my swollen eye, watching him with just one. “You came in before I could come up with anything.”
White teeth flashed in his red beard. “I forgot the white horse, but next time I’ll get it right.”
I snorted at the ridiculousness, then regretted it as blood dribbled from my nose. I didn’t need rescuing, but it was tough to remember that when he smiled.
Leif handed me a handkerchief—a real cotton handkerchief with a monogram—and was about to go on when a deep voice said, “Boss, can this wait?”
“We’re almost done,” Leif said, tension rising in his posture as Mick crouched beside us.
Mick dropped his voice, gripping the back of my chair. “A friend of my pack is bleeding in public. I can’t have that. I’ll take her back to my house so she can clean up. You can finish flirting there.”
“This is an interview.”
“Right.” Moriah’s brother looked dangerously close to rolling his eyes. “How could it be anything else, with the giggling?”
“There was no giggling,” Leif muttered, but he stood. “Take her to the pack house. It’s safer. The Externals might raid your place, but they won’t try mine.”
The Chief Investigator helped me stand, letting me lean into him as the room tilted. I closed my good eye as I braced against his chest, warm and clean-smelling under the crisp shirt and soft jacket. He was solid and real as the world swam around me.
Definite giggling started in the crowd around Adam. Leif’s eyes narrowed when he spotted them, and a flurry of movement erupted as the shifters became interested in every other part of the room. Leif transferred me to Mick, saying quietly, “Take care of your head first.”
I’d already turned my focus to the door when Leif cleared his throat. “Lily.”
As I tried to comprehend what he meant, Leif smiled, winked, and then strode after Adam and his co-conspirators, barking orders.
Mick half-carried me to the front of the restaurant, nodding to a bunch of grim shifters waiting on the street, and put me in the front seat of his waiting car. “You certainly got him all worked up.”
“Not my fault.” I rested my head against the seat, fighting down the urge to throw up. It was only after he started the car and pulled into traffic that I realized what Leif promised. All the blood rushed to my cheeks, surging painfully to my nose as well, and I rubbed my temples.
“That’s what they all say,” he said, shaking his head. We’d only gone another block or so before he took a deep breath. “Look, Lily. You’re in a lot of trouble, and it’s not the kind of trouble that nonaligned walk away from.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You will be if you align and swear to my pack.”
Scowling hurt my face too much, so I settled for a disapproving frown. “I’m not joining the pack or the Alliance, Mick.”
“They can’t hold the Externals off forever, and the longer Leif tries, the guiltier you look. Frankly, Leif is just waiting to get more evidence so he can arrest you. Blaming you is easier than having to do a joint investigation.”
“More evidence of what?” At least the concussion and headache made me too tired to really care.
“Does it matter? There have been half a dozen felonies in the last four days; they can pin any of them on you. The only thing that matters is that all of it goes away if you swear to the Alliance. Soren won’t let the Externals arrest one of his people.”
“Good to know the Peacemaker isn’t interested in justice.”
His eyes narrowed, grip tightening on the steering wheel. “There’s more justice for some than for others, Lilith, and you should know that better than anyone.”
My mouth went dry. Everything went still and quiet. I kept my hands on my thighs, staring at but not seeing them. “I beg your pardon.”
“If there was justice, you wouldn’t be here and you know it.” He pulled over, shoving the car in park and half-turning to face me. “Friends in high places kept you off the executioner’s stake, and it would be helpful if you remembered that.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I touched the jade ring, seeing it even without looking at it. Thinking of Sam.
“Fine. We’ll all keep pretending that never happened. But today, here and now—without Mo, you’d be in the Reserve’s loony bin in a padded room, talking to your ghosts. So pay it back, Lilith—align. Join the pack. Start doing what you know is right.”
I reached for the door handle. “I’m done.”
He grabbed my arm, jerked me back into the car. “You’re going to the pack house, witch.”
Magic surged and he slammed back into his door, blinking and shaking his hand. I kicked the door open and got out, bending down to speak despite almost pitching face-first back into the car. “What I know is right is not supporting an organization that coerces people into joining it.”
I slammed the door and started walking, not looking back. I half-expected him to come after me and throw me into the car, since most alphas weren’t particularly happy about hearing no from anyone. But the only sound was the car pulling away. I turned the first corner I came to and paused, leaning back against the brick building so I could gather my thoughts. Saints above. Maybe he was right about joining the pack, that I owed it to Mo. Maybe she was right and I owed it to myself.
My head pounded, my nose aching and throbbing. I’d never been a very good mender or healer; we’d always relied on Rosa. The need to call her nearly overwhelmed me. She would fix things. I looked around for the first time, trying to orient myself. And paused as I recognized the sign across the street and half a block down—Morningfair Charms. A dark SUV sat outside in the no-parking zone, and as I watched, a familiar mousy-haired human cop exited, Eric on his heels. I held my breath.
Chapter 12
I shrank back into a doorway as Stefan scanned the street, getting into the driver’s seat only after he frowned back at the empty sidewalks. It seemed like forever and yet only a blink before they drove away, disappearing around the corner. I counted to a hundred after they’d pulled away before bolting across the street. Anne Marie. She could have been hurt, could have been arrested and handed off to one of their arrest teams, could have been a snitch feeding them information...
The sign on the door read Closed but that never stopped me. I shouldered through it and ran into a solid wall of magic, gritting my teeth as black and blue tendrils of magic blasted into my chest and knocked me back. Anne Marie, waiting behind the counter, looked up in time to say, “Saints blast it—” before the backlash whirled out and caught her. It wrenched her away as the warding spell unbalanced and shook apart, confronted by the equal power of my magic.
My teeth rattled as I forced myself through, collapsing to the floor once I was inside, and the door shut behind me with sweetly-chiming bells. Shit.
Anne Marie, looking rumpled and aghast, braced herself against an aisle of charms. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Thought you were in trouble.” I shook off the pins and needles of agony from confronting that much magic, and wobbled to my feet. She’d gotten a lot better. Or she had the coven helping her set wards. The only thing stronger was a circle of salt and bone and wood, preferably of oak, ash, and thorn.
“Nice try.” Her glamour slipped under the shock of breaking wards, and she turned from a white-haired granny to a dark-haired woman not too much older than me, with an expression like craggy granite.
Spitting nails would have been more grateful. I tried for dignity. “You’re welcome.”
“Did you send them?”
“Don’t be stupid.” I glanced around the store, biting my lip. She sold charms and fortunes of dubious accuracy to humans. Grew herbs and stocked cauldrons and even kept a black cat. She catered to human expectations, just short of wearing a pointy hat and stirring a smoky cauldron, but had the gumption to call me the traitor. I pretended to examine a twig broom near the entrance, though it helped me keep my balance as the room continued to wobble around me. “They just raided the restaurant. Leif sent them away. I thought they might try to—you know.”
Her chin tilted up. “Your concern is misplaced.”
“No kidding.”
“Especially since they’re looking for you. I know I’m innocent, and I’m just as certain you’re guilty.”
I staggered into one of the aisles of packets of herbs, picked up a pre-mixed potion for true love and waved it at her. “Really? Guilty of what? Interfering with free will through love spells? Isn’t that still illegal?”
“The charm is for the purchaser, to reignite passion in a relationship.” She limped back to the register behind a long counter, bracing her hands on the polished surface. “And you’re guilty of something, Lilith. I know you’re the only witch who could have been Ivan Darkwing, night before last.”
I buried panic in studying the potion. Herbs and twigs and dust, only a touch of real magic. Eye of newt, toe of frog. “What makes you think that?”
“I had the area cleared of all witches. In a square mile, you were the only one nonaligned and unaccounted for who could have done... what you did, and used Ivan’s name as an out.”
“Done what?” I dropped the potion, wondering if I dared purchase a healing charm from her. If it meant helping the damn concussion from Stefan’s fists and her wards, it would be worth it. Maybe Rosa would help patch up the rest of me, if I could find her.
“Either hurt that girl or killed the ones who did. It’s got your fingerprints all over it.”
Fear clogged my throat, but something else nagged at me. “Why did you clear the area?”
“None of your business.” Color rose
in her cheeks.
“Couldn’t have been because you were doing some dirty magic?” I watched her, eyes narrowed, as I meandered through another aisle. Essential oils and creams, a variety of scents and enough magic to make my eyes water, stacked up in neat rows and columns. “Didn’t want any witnesses, did you?”
“We didn’t want the memorial to be interrupted.” But she didn’t quite meet my gaze. She’d never been good at lying. “And stop trying to change the subject. I know it was you, Lilith. Keep your mouth shut and your head down, and I won’t tell Leif.”
“If you had any proof,” I said, stalking down the next aisle. I let my hand trail over the herbs in planters along the windows, watching the leaves wilt at the residual magic trailing from my fingers. “I wouldn’t still be walking around. So maybe we’re even, AM.”
“I hardly—”
“What would Leif say if I told him what you guys were up to? What would Soren do if he knew you were summoning demons?”
She recoiled, expression almost comical in its disbelief. “We weren’t summoning demons. How dare you imply—”
“I felt it, AM.” I picked up a poultice, recognizing the name as one of Rosa’s specialties, and a bottle of head-cure. I tossed them on the counter in front of her, praying I had enough cash in my bag. Payday was still a week away, and I hadn’t gotten any tips in a couple of days. “Whatever you summoned, it came from a very dark place.”
“You’re mistaken.” She jabbed at the register, then threw the two items into a small plastic bag. “Twenty-seven fifty.”
“Twenty-seven—?” I cut off, shaking my head. “Saints. I always knew witches didn’t believe in charity, but that seems a little much.” I dug through my wallet, putting a few rumpled bills on the counter before I started searching for change to make up the difference. “Look, AM. I’m asking you. Please don’t complete the spell tonight.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I leveled a look at her and she had the grace to look a little ashamed. My change purse gave me another three dollars in quarters and dimes, and I reached into the depths of the bag for all the loose coins jingling around. “Come on. I know what I felt when that magic reacted. It’s dangerous. There’s something going on and it won’t end well. It can’t end well. Please. Just tie it off, banish it, start over later.”