by Jayne Faith
“He would not be the same man afterward,” he said. “A good friend would strongly encourage him not to take the opportunity. If he does it, he will no longer be the type of person you will want to associate with. I can almost guarantee that if he survives it, he will be lost to you.”
Anger flashed though me. “Then why in the hell did you offer him a deal with the devil in the first place?” I said hotly.
“Because I need something. Surely you can relate to that, Ms. Grey.”
I seethed silently for a moment, but what could I say? I’d made my own deal with Zarella with almost no hesitation. I was holding evidence of it in my hand that very second.
I lifted the drawstring bag he’d given me.
“No instructions?” I tried not to grip the pouch too tightly.
“Instructions are inside.”
I’d always known I’d do anything to bring my brother back, but I hated the gratitude I felt. The irony wasn’t lost on me that it looked as if Phillip Zarella had turned out to be my savior. I hastily pushed those thoughts aside.
Between the magic of the branding ceremony still zipping through me and the promise of what the pouch contained, I could barely hold still. With our business concluded, I left the zombie, and I went into the game room, where music was playing, the huge TV showed a football game on mute, and everyone had refreshed their drinks.
Florica strode to me with folded papers in one hand. She held out the packet.
“Rules and charter of the Society of the Underworld for your perusal. Nothing too serious, I assure you. We’re a pretty casual group,” she said. “And I need you to sign the official copy of your membership certificate. I’m the record keeper for this chapter of the Society, by the way.”
Words began to appear in the air between us, as if drawn with a flame-inked pen. It was the certificate, and it bore a seal with the same design that was on the floor in the room where I’d been branded. Using my index finger, I traced my signature on the line at the bottom. The words vanished, leaving a wisp of vapor and a whiff of decaying leaves hanging in the air.
The energy from the ceremony seemed to be growing within me, rather than receding as I’d expected. My eyes sought Rogan. I spotted him leaning against the bar, not quite part of the group gathered there, but not quite separate from it either. As if sensing my gaze, his attention turned to me. He strode toward me, and I swear there was a sultry sparkle in his eyes. It set off my internal fireworks anew.
“Mind if we take off?” I asked when he got close enough.
He cocked a smile at me, and his lids lowered partway. “Quick goodbye to our host. He’d be offended if we disappeared suddenly.”
I nodded and practically dragged him over to Ed. We made our pleasantries, and I begged off from the group when Mark offered another drink, and then Rogan and I hightailed it out of the game room.
We were barely out of sight of the others when Rogan turned to me, grasped my shoulders, and pushed me back against the wall. The back of my head smacked the stucco, but I didn’t care. I twisted the lapels of his duster in my fists and pulled him roughly against me. Our lips met, and his fingers laced into my hair.
My pulse raced on the wave of the heat surging between us, and the world seemed to shrink down to only him. I was drunk on the smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the pressure of his chest holding me against the wall. A throaty moan welled up through me.
He pulled me away from the wall, and we stumbled a few steps to one side and into the alcove of a nearby door. His hands roamed my body, leaving fire in their wake. I tugged at the hem of his shirt, half ready to rip it open.
Laughter and voices made us both freeze. Breathless, I listened. Rogan’s lips were next to my ear.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he whispered, his words feathering against my cheek and hair.
He grabbed my hand, and we took off toward the front door. I surreptitiously righted my shirt and jacket as we ran. We hopped into the Jeep, and I grabbed the oh-shit handle as Rogan tore out of the parking area, the tires spitting gravel behind us and the back fishtailing for a second.
He flashed me a hooded grin. We made it down the mountain road in record time, and instead of heading to my neighborhood, Rogan turned onto Reserve Street. We passed the corner where I’d dropped him once, and I realized we were going to his place.
By the time he pulled into the driveway of a small house in an older part of Foothills East, the blaze between us had become a smoldering burn.
Silently, he took my hand and led me inside. The place was sparse, as I’d guessed. He drew me through the dark house and into a bedroom with a bed so neatly made it looked like it’d never been slept in. He let his jacket slide off to the floor.
“Sure you don’t mind if we mess this up?” I whispered with a smirk, gesturing to the perfectly made bed.
He responded by sweeping me into his arms with a grin and a low growl, and we landed together on the bed.
When I woke up later, it was early morning but still dark and Rogan was asleep next to me. My body still hummed gently with the afterglow of the night, and I lay there for a moment to soak it up. A delicious shiver passed over my skin. Maybe it was because he’d been in his human form for decades, or because he wasn’t really human at all, but his complete abandon to the physical experience was unlike anything I’d encountered before. He hadn’t a shred of insecurity, and it was incredibly sexy.
With a soft sigh, I pushed the covers away, slipped out of bed, and found my clothes. I didn’t have the luxury of lolling around in bed.
Once outside, I nearly wheeled around and went back in. It was probably below thirty degrees, but I had on my thigh-length, lined leather coat. I zipped it up all the way and tucked in my chin, pulled on the gloves that were stuffed in a pocket, and set out toward home at an easy trot.
It was freezing out, but Zarella’s drawstring pouch was burning a metaphorical hole in my pocket. Besides, it was less than two miles to home. On Demon Patrol I’d spent entire shifts out in much worse winter conditions.
Memories of Patrol brought me around to my new business venture and Damien. I had what I wanted from Zarella’s deal, but Damien’s prize would be awarded only at the finish line. Could I convince my partner to let it go, to give up Zarella’s promise of mage power? If not, I’d have to refuse to finish the job with him. I couldn’t do it, knowing that Damien would turn into someone I wouldn’t want in my life.
I wanted to think that I could persuade him, that Damien would see it wasn’t worth it. In my imagination, we had the conversation and agreed on it and moved on to our boring government contracts. But I had feeling it was nothing more than a wish, a fantasy. He’d tried to hide it, but I’d seen the fervent light in his eyes at the prospect of mage power.
When I got home, Deb was up.
She looked at me with groggy eyes and her strawberry blond hair spiked and messy from sleep, but then her attention snapped into focus.
She gasped and then let out a little squeal. “Somebody got some!” she sing-songed.
Loki looked up in alarm.
“What? No,” I said with exaggerated denial. “I’m an underworlder now. That’s what you’re seeing in my aura. The underworld is super sexy.”
Her face pulled into a horrified expression. “Did they make you do an orgy?”
I let out a peal of laughter. “They’re not like that. At least, not that I saw.”
She narrowed her eyes, raised her coffee mug to her lips, and giggled softly behind it. “Rogan, huh?” She took a long sip, still eyeing me.
I pressed my lips together and ducked into the bedroom to change clothes and avoid responding.
“Ella and Rogan, sitting in a tree.” Deb’s voice floated in. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
“Real mature, Deb.”
I couldn’t help a grin as I pulled off my clothes and tossed them in the hamper. It had been a very, very good night.
“Hell of a lot more than kissing, jud
ging by your aura,” she called. “Hope you’re on birth control. Or you’ll end up like meee!”
She giggled again, a little maniacally this time, as she slammed the bathroom door closed and started the shower.
I chewed my bottom lip. I wanted so badly to open the pouch and do whatever I was supposed to do with the contents. But I had to wait until I could get with Jennifer Kane. I wouldn’t know if Zarella’s fix worked unless I could remove the charmed ring that kept me cut off from magic and my reaper. But as soon as I took off the ring, the in-between magic would flood through me, and I might not survive another influx. I needed Jen’s spell to stem the tide.
Ugh. Too many steps. Of course it couldn’t be simple, oh no.
I texted Jen and then forced myself to go pour a cup of coffee instead of sitting on my bed clutching my phone like a teenage girl waiting for her crush to respond. After a few minutes with nothing from Jen, I went sat cross-legged on my bed, opened the pouch, and carefully poured out the contents. No harm in looking.
There was a little scroll of paper rolled up tightly, plus three smooth, flat stones about the size of my pinkie nail. The stones were nearly identical, opaque black with a silvery, darkly mirrored surface. Hematite, maybe. And there was a single wooden matchstick.
I unrolled the piece of paper.
Swallow them. Burn this.
I turned it over. That was it? Zarella was succinct, I had to give him that. I stared at the paper. I’d expected a few lines to chant. Maybe a ritual to be performed under moonlight. Something more than some pebbles and a piece of paper with four words on it.
With a shrug, I tucked everything back into the pouch and tightened the drawstring.
“Okay, Xaphan,” I whispered to the dormant reaper. “Ready for a truce?”
“What’re you mumbling about?” Deb appeared in the doorway in a bathrobe and a towel turbaned on her head. “Reliving your night of passion?”
I threw a pillow at her head, and she caught it easily.
“I got the reaper cure from Zarella.” I held up the pouch.
Deb sobered and took a few steps toward me. “What do you have to do?”
“I’m not sure,” I lied. “I have to get Jen’s spell before I can do anything with this, and I don’t want to mess with it until I was ready to actually use it.”
I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell her I’d looked in the pouch. I think I was afraid she’d see the stones and say it was a trick. Or find some other reason to insist I shouldn’t do it. But I didn’t want any warnings, and I couldn’t deal with anyone else’s fears. I just wanted it done.
She nodded soberly.
“Just . . . listen to your gut, Ella. Don’t do anything that feels wrong,” she said.
“I won’t. I promise.”
I left her alone in the bedroom so she could get dressed for work.
When I finally heard from Jen, I hollered a quick goodbye to Deb and headed out with Loki, relieved to escape before she decided we should discuss Zarella’s cure.
The sun was barely cracking over the horizon, and it was still just as cold as it had been when I started my trek home in the dark.
On the way to Sunshine Valley, I got a text. My pulse gave a little bump when I saw Rogan’s name.
You could have stayed. I happen to make quite a decent espresso.
I crooked a small smile and replied when traffic stopped.
I’m not afraid of morning-after coffee. Couldn’t sleep. I’m headed to Jen’s now. Wish me luck.
He responded: I would, but you don’t need it. You’ll be good as new in no time.
At least someone besides me had confidence that this was all going to work out.
I pulled up to Jen’s and snapped a leash onto Loki’s collar.
Chapter 15
JEN ANSWERED HER door dressed in athletic shoes, canvas cargo pants, and a ski sweater, and I saw a parka and knit hat with little pompom tassels on the sofa.
“Getting back from somewhere?” I asked. It was an odd hour to be returning home, but Jen was a vampire, so who was I to assume anything about her nights.
“This spell is likely going to produce a big blowback,” she said, going to put on her coat. “I thought it’d be best to go up into the hills a ways so we don’t piss off the neighbors.”
Powerful spells were sometimes accompanied by a noise almost as powerful as a sonic boom, especially if the spell created a very swift change. Not having much power myself, I’d never cast magic strong enough to cause one.
We went out the back door, across her yard, and through the gate. Low-angled morning sun greeted us. There was a tree-lined, paved pedestrian road there that ran along the back yards of the houses on Jen’s street, but beyond it the rolling foothills were undeveloped. The brush and boulder-studded land seemed to go on forever. There were paths carved in the dirt by hikers and wildlife, and Jen picked one of them.
I let Loki off the leash, and he gleefully raced ahead, circled back to do a quick fly-by, and then bounded off in another direction.
Jen and I hiked side-by-side.
“We missed you at the meeting last night,” she said.
In the midst of everything else going on, I’d nearly forgotten I’d skipped the coven gathering.
“Ha, I bet,” I said. “What’d I miss?”
“Lynnette told everyone about your induction into the underworld. And about losing your job.”
“Awesome,” I said sarcastically.
It wasn’t that either of those things were private information. I just didn’t like the idea of being discussed.
“I’m sure Lynnette is glad she has you to keep an eye on me,” I said, sliding Jen a wry look.
She let out a throaty laugh. “Well, duh. You and I both know that she loves to be as far up in people’s business as possible.”
She said it with a carefully mild tone, but I thought I detected an edge of something. Maybe resentment.
Jen slowed and turned to look back the way we’d come, walking backward for a few steps, probably judging whether we were far enough from humanity.
“This spell you’re going to do, is it something that the coven could help with?” I asked, the idea suddenly dawning on me.
“How so?” She faced forward again, and we began climbing up a ridge.
“I don’t know, forming a circle and doing the spell as a group?”
She shook her head. “This isn’t something that can be done with collective magic. It’s too delicate. Even the most honed coven can’t work in perfect synchronicity. It’d be like trying to perform brain surgery with thirteen different doctors’ hands on the scalpel at the same time.”
I took a deep breath, trying not to get hung up on her all-too-vivid metaphor for what we were about to do.
“Okay,” she said. “I think we’re good here.”
We both stopped. We’d hiked up over a ridge and then followed the path down a gentle slope. The hills completely blocked any view of the Sunshine Valley development. I couldn’t help thinking these hills would be a good place to bury a body. Close enough to civilization to make it a quick haul but easy to hide in the expanse of undeveloped land. I wasn’t looking for a place to hide a corpse, of course, but it made me a little edgy to be this isolated.
Jen had moved over to a boulder and was pulling some things out of her coat pocket and lining them up. There were two milky white crystal orbs about the size of ping pong balls, a plastic zip bag filled with what looked like salt, a small folding knife with a pearl handle, and a clear stone wand. She glanced up at me, and her face was tensed, her eyes focused.
I swallowed as my pulse kicked up. I was putting it all in her hands, and this was the moment of truth. I trusted that she wouldn’t deliberately harm me, but I had no idea of the odds of success.
“Not that I doubt your abilities,” I said. “But how sure are you about this spell?”
“I’ve only had the opportunity to perform it once. But I’m one for one.” She gave a lit
tle shrug and a faint smile. “You should probably show me what you’re going to do for the reaper part. We’ll have to do the two spells in very quick succession.”
“Mine’s not much of a spell.” I pulled out Zarella’s pouch and emptied the contents in my hand so she could see. I unrolled the scroll and showed it to her.
Her brows lifted, and she leaned in to peer more closely at the three dark stones. “Swallow those?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
She frowned and then straightened. “Odd, but not unheard of.”
I placed the items back in the pouch and set it on the rock next to her things.
She twisted off one corner of the baggie of salt and let a thin stream of it fall to the ground, using it to draw a line around us that also enclosed the boulder where our magical items sat. Then she used the stone wand and cast a quick circle.
She reached for the two crystal orbs and held them out.
“Palms up, and hold one in each hand,” she said. “When your power starts to flow in, I’m going to catch it and then direct it between these two crystals. I won’t be able to hold it there forever, but hopefully long enough to keep the magic from frying you while I perform the spell. The idea is that I’m putting in place a sort of permanent sieve which will squeeze down the flow of the magic to a manageable trickle.”
I held the cool stone spheres in my hands and wondered how they could possibly hold the torrent of magic from the in-between. But Jen was living proof that this type of spell had worked once before, and I’d have to take that as good enough.
“As soon as I’ve finished, you need to go for the reaper spell right away.”
I nodded, too keyed-up to speak.
She picked up the folding knife and held it and then drew a deep breath with her eyes closed and began centering herself for magic. When she opened her eyes, her pupils glowed with power.
“The charmed ring,” she said in the monotone of trance.