Tall, lean, and goth—though less goth than usual with no eyeliner and his hair hidden under a ball cap—he gave me a quick smile in return. “Heard you got yourself a shiny new fae lord for a familiar.”
“I don’t think that’s quite how it worked.” I showed him my rune-marked palm, the only part of the intricate pattern visible now that I was dressed. “Don’t suppose you have an anti-fae-magic artifact tucked away somewhere?”
“Not precisely.”
I sighed.
We talked to Ramsey until Kai, Ezra, and Sanjana joined us. The healer dragged me into the pub, sat me in a chair, and gave me a basic checkup. Declaring that I was exhausted but otherwise healthy, she turned me over to the guys.
A few minutes later, I was settling into Aaron’s drafty car as he started the engine. Ezra had climbed onto the back of Kai’s bike—the car’s back seat was full of broken glass and unfit for passengers—and the motorcycle zoomed out of the small lot ahead of us.
Aaron drove out after them. A few blocks down, Kai turned off the main road, but we continued toward my apartment. I stared moodily out the window at the early morning gloom, shivering as wind swirled through the car. So nice of Echo to break the back window.
“Sin is on her way,” Aaron told me. “Kaveri will join you too, in case you have issues with the fae. Since we don’t know what to expect from this sea lord, having a witch nearby is the best we can do. She’s swinging by her apartment to pack an overnight bag first.”
Since I needed mythic supervision, I would rather have stayed at Aaron’s house, but thanks to MagiPol’s stupid investigation, that wasn’t an option.
He stifled a yawn with one hand. “I’m beat. Once I’ve gotten some sleep, I’ll pick up a burner phone to replace my regular one and text you the number so you can call me if you need me.”
“Sure.” I rubbed his shoulder. “You guys need to rest. The fae bond isn’t going anywhere.”
“You need rest too. You look even tireder than I feel.”
“Tireder?” I repeated in amusement.
“You can’t expect me to English properly on this little sleep. Especially after that fight.” The car rolled to a stop in front of my bungalow and he cut the engine. “I’ll wait with you until Sin arrives.”
“That’s okay.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “She’s on her way. I’ll be fine on my own for a few minutes.”
He hesitated, worry shadowing his blue eyes. “I should probably …”
“I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. Leaning across the center console, I planted a kiss on his frown. “You’re exhausted. Go home and get some sleep.”
Heaving a sigh, he gave in. “Okay. But have Sin text me—wait, no, my phone is fried. Email. Have her email me when she arrives.”
“I will.” I hesitated, then leaned in again and brought our mouths together.
My kiss was slow and deep, full of emotion I hadn’t had time to process. My hand found his stubbly cheek, fingers stroking his warm skin. I pressed my mouth harder against his, an inexplicable surge of desperation rising through me.
When I pulled back, a hint of confusion lurked in his gaze, but he smiled. “Have a good nap. I’ll call you when I’m up again.”
“I’ll be waiting.” With a final wave, I got out of the car and shut the door. The engine grumbled to life, and he leaned sideways to search my face through the window. Then the vehicle rolled away, and I waited on the sidewalk until the red sports car was out of sight.
Turning on my heel, I hastened toward the house. My messed-up relationship with Aaron would have to wait. I had ten minutes before Sin arrived and I couldn’t waste it. As I strode into the backyard, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. It rang while I unlocked the door and stepped into the vestibule.
Ten rings. Twelve. I growled, loping down the stairs. Pick up, pick up, pick up. I let it keep ringing. Fourteen. Fifteen.
The line clicked, and a deep, husky voice rumbled in my ear. “You’ve never called before. This better be good.”
“Hello, dahling,” I purred dramatically. “Tell me how desperately you’ve been longing to hear my voice again.”
A long, heavy pause, then the line went dead.
Swearing, I called right back, a hand on my hip as I let it ring another million times. Finally, the line clicked.
“You have no sense of humor at all,” I complained before he could speak. “I am calling for an actual reason, you know.”
“And what reason is that?”
I scrunched my face, nose wrinkling. The words were difficult for me to say, but I didn’t really have a choice. Weldon had said only a fae-magic expert or a dark-arts practitioner possessed the skill to deal with my problem.
Conveniently, I happened to know someone who was both—assuming he didn’t hang up on me again.
I sighed. “Zak, I need your help.”
Chapter Eleven
“Tell me again,” I said, my brow furrowed, as Sin sorted through miniature bottles filled with bright colors, “why we need to paint our nails.”
“Because,” she replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “it’s a traditional sleepover activity. I haven’t done a sleepover since I was twelve, and I’m milking it for all it’s worth.”
She selected a bottle of hot pink lacquer from her tub of nail polishes and held it up. “How about this one?”
I couldn’t think of a more revolting color. “Sure, why not.”
“Kaveri, what color do you want?”
The dark-haired witch looked up. She’d constructed a small circle out of nature-y things in the middle of my living room, and Twiggy was sitting in front of it, looking as delighted as I’d ever seen him.
This was the weirdest sleepover ever.
“Nail polish is full of harsh chemicals.” Kaveri added another leaf to her circle. “It isn’t environmentally responsible.”
“Commercial nail polishes aren’t.” Sin uncapped the hot pink bottle and held it out to me. “Mine are all natural. Smell it.”
I cautiously sniffed. Instead of harsh paint odors assaulting my senses, all I detected was a hint of lavender. “Ooh nice. How permanent is it?”
“Without my remover potion, it won’t so much as chip unless you tear your nail off.”
Hmm. “Can I choose a different color?”
She passed me the container and I examined the bright shades. Choosing a fire-engine red, I handed it back. “So, what other traditional sleepover activities do you have planned?”
“Watching rom-coms, eating popcorn, and a pillow fight.”
“You’re basing this entirely on nineties chick flicks, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much,” she confirmed shamelessly, selecting a shade of turquoise that matched her wavy hair.
I squinted at Kaveri. “What exactly are you doing?”
“This?” She added another dried leaf to the circle. “It’s a woodland balance rite. Human technology and activity disrupt natural forces. Through this ritual, I can bring the nearby energies into balance. It doesn’t last long, but it’s rejuvenating for fae.”
Twiggy nodded rapturously. “It feels good. Bright and clear.”
“Mmm,” I murmured noncommittally. “Arcana uses circles too, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, circles are present in most magic constructions. They define boundaries. Arcana and Spiritalis share some basic concepts, but the execution is very different.” She pondered her circle, then lifted a pouch from her bag and sprinkled dirt in the center. “All witches can sense the flow of power within nature, and we can tell when it’s out of balance.”
I frowned at the dirt she was dumping on my floor. “You can sense it?”
“Oh yes. The urge to correct the balance is inherent, and many young witches will teach themselves basic rites through trial and error. It’s the primary ministration we offer fae—balancing the energies they depend on for survival.”
I stifled a sigh. If I’d had the slightest doubt, here was
the final nail in the coffin—no way was I a Spiritalis mythic. I scarcely tolerated outdoorsy activities, let alone felt the urge to arrange leaves and dirt for esoteric purposes. Not to mention I lacked that special ability to perceive fae that the O-sisters had described. I could see fae only when they wanted to be seen.
“With Spiritalis rites, you can’t simply follow a recipe,” Kaveri added with a smug smile in Sin’s direction. “We must adapt every rite to the current state of the natural world in which we’re working, and only through our unique senses can we do that.”
Sin snorted. “Yeah, but balancing is about all you witches can do unless a fae trades over its magic. Arcaners harness energies into potions and artifacts.”
My phone chimed, and I tuned out their snippy debate while I surreptitiously checked the message. Nerves flitted through my stomach. I’d slept most of the day, but in the several hours since I’d woken, my top priority had been to devise a plan. So far, I had nothing—and now my time was up.
I jumped to my feet and hurried into the kitchen to check my pantry. “I don’t have any popcorn! I’m fresh out of soft drinks too.”
“Damn,” Sin grumbled as she uncapped her turquoise polish.
“Hey, Kaveri,” I said brightly, “why don’t you make a quick snack run? The grocery store is open for another forty-five minutes.”
Rising to her feet, she brushed leaves off her yoga pants and I tried not to let the mess annoy me. Twiggy was humming and crooning at the nature circle. At least he was happy.
No sooner had I thought it than he cut off his discordant tune. His head tilted to one side—and he faded out of sight. Little weirdo.
“I’m supposed to stay with you,” Kaveri said uncertainly.
I refocused on my mission.
“It’ll only be a few minutes,” I told her breezily, hoping I wasn’t laying it on too thick. “And you wanted me to try chai tea, right? You could get some of that too.”
Her face brightened. I’d have no choice but to drink the tea now. The sacrifices I was making …
“Okay,” she agreed. “The store isn’t far, right?”
“You’ll be back in no time!” Except the closest store was already closed and she’d have to drive to a different one. Keeping my smile in place, I ushered her up the stairs and out the door.
When I came back down, Sin had turned around on the sofa and was leaning against the back, squinting suspiciously at me.
“You’re acting weird,” she accused.
No point in denying it. “Everything is weird,” I hedged, waving at the glowing marks all over me, displayed by my shorts and tank top. “Sin, I need to ask …”
I trailed off as Twiggy appeared behind her. His body language set off my alarm bells—the faery was up to something. I knew that look.
Before I could warn Sin, Twiggy pressed a green leaf against her bare arm. Surprise flickered across her face, then she slumped into the cushions, limp as a corpse.
“Sin!” I sprinted to the sofa. “Twiggy, what did you do?”
He widened his eyes innocently and waved the leaf. “I did what he told me!”
“What who—” I cut myself off as Twiggy’s gaze moved past me and worshipful awe blanked his waxy features.
I spun around.
A man stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the door jamb. His long black coat hung to his knees, the hood pulled up and casting deep shadows over his face. Tall, broad-shouldered, oozing menace.
“Ever hear of knocking?” I demanded, gulping down my racing heart. “And what did Twiggy do to Sin?”
He pushed his hood off. The shadows slid away from his face, revealing unnaturally bright green eyes set in one of the most gorgeous faces I’d ever had the pleasure of ogling. I sighed wistfully.
“Leaf of yarnroot,” he replied.
I sighed again. That voice. Raspy, rumbly, and sinfully deep. Damn. I’d forgotten the man was sex appeal incarnate. It just wasn’t fair.
“You’re a dickhead,” I declared to remind myself of that important fact. “What did the leaf do to her?”
He rolled his spectacular eyes at my unprompted insult. “The touch of a single leaf will render an adult unconscious. Its effect lasts about an hour and”—a dangerous smile touched his lips—“it leaves no trace.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “It won’t hurt her?”
“Not unless she eats it.”
Twiggy grinned and stuffed the leaf in his mouth, chewing loudly and humming like he’d taken a bite of the sweetest cake.
I waved at Zak. “Help me move her over to my bed.”
He crossed the room, simultaneously pulling off his coat to reveal a soft black t-shirt and muscular arms darkened by tattoos. I reminded myself not to drool. He tossed his coat on the sofa, then lifted Sin into his arms. Guess my help wasn’t needed.
After depositing my unconscious friend on my bed, he returned to the main room and looked me up and down. “You’re glowing like a Christmas display. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
I approached him at a cautious mince. Losing patience, he whisked me over to the open space behind my lonely sofa, positioned my arm out to my side, and began examining the fae markings.
“Hi Zak,” I murmured into the silence. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it? I’m doing well, thanks for asking. This fae nonsense has been quite tiring, though. I appreciate your concern. It’s very thoughtful.”
“You’re tired because the fae’s magic is hammering your body like an invisible surf.”
When he pulled my shirt up, I flinched but didn’t stop him. He knew how to behave himself, plus he’d already seen more of my skin than this.
“You’ll grow more and more fatigued,” he continued, “until you can barely stay awake, and sleep won’t help. You’ll scarcely be able to function.”
“Uh.” Alarm clanged through me. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is.” Kneeling to study my leg, he pushed the edge of my cotton shorts up. “The Red Rum witches are fools. Even I couldn’t handle a bond with this fae for more than a few months.”
I blinked at the top of his head. “You’re talkative today.”
He looked up at me, exasperation written across his unsmiling face.
It was a long story how I’d come to have the phone number of the city’s most notorious rogue. The Ghost, as he’d been dubbed, was a mystery to almost everyone in the mythic community—a secretive criminal known for dealing in the darkest arts and kidnapping teenagers. No one knew his name, his face, or what magic he wielded … except me.
And the cold bastard had forced me to swear a black-magic oath that prevented me from revealing anything about him, even by accident. Hence why I’d sent Kaveri away and why he’d ensured Sin couldn’t see or hear anything that would trigger the oath spell, at which point I would gruesomely perish.
How I’d perish I didn’t know. Zak hadn’t said, and I was too chicken to ask.
Crossing to the stairs, where a black duffle bag sat on the floor, he unzipped it and withdrew a pad of paper and a pencil. “I’m going to sketch the markings. Hold your clothes out of the way.”
I pulled my shirt up, baring my midriff. “Can’t you take a photo?”
His pencil scratched across the page. “Magic doesn’t photograph well.”
That was inconvenient. “Tell me more about how the fae’s magic is turning me into a blob of fatigue. Don’t you have a similar bond with your familiar?”
“Not even close. Your bond isn’t a true familiar relationship. It’s enslavement.” He stepped sideways to draw the runes that curved around my back. “You have a real talent for getting yourself into trouble.”
“Well, this is probably the last time. MagiPol is investigating my guild, so I’ll be getting the boot back to the regular world any day now.”
His hand stilled, and I grimaced. My voice might have quavered on that last bit. He resumed drawing without comment.
“How’s Nadine?” I asked.
“Well enough. Angry with me.”
“Angry? Why?”
“She doesn’t want to leave.”
“Leave?” I yelped, stepping toward him. “You promised to take care of her!”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. He spun me around and poked my back with his pencil eraser. “Don’t move. And I will make sure she’s safe, but she can’t stay with me anymore. None of them can.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m shutting down the farm.”
Gasping, I started to spin but he caught my shoulder, holding me still. His statement burned my ears. Somewhere in the nearby mountains, Zak owned an entire valley where he sheltered a rotating dozen or so homeless teens and young adults who needed a safe place to get back on their feet. For all that his reputation was terrifying—and his morals allowed ruthless murder—he was a decent guy.
“Why are you shutting it down?” I demanded.
“It’s not safe. That bitch sorceress found me. She knows too much, and she’s already spreading the information around. I sent the older ones on their way within a week, and Terrance took all his apprentices except Nadine. She needs better protection than he can give her.”
My hands balled into fists. “How much of this is my fault?”
“None. I took in Nadine. Varvara would’ve found me sooner or later based on that alone, and if not for you, I wouldn’t have known I’d been discovered—or by whom.” With the sound of tearing paper, he added, “I’m finished.”
Turning, I glanced over his work—all the runes marking my body were drawn in 2D as though he’d skinned me and laid out my hide to tan.
“So?” I prompted as he studied the drawing.
“Not great.” He pointed to a few gaps in the design. “There are missing pieces—parts of the ritual that weren’t completed properly. Probably steps you were supposed to take when you bound the fae.”
“I’m not so worried about whether it’s working properly,” I admitted. “I’m way more concerned with how to break it.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, frowning at the page. “That might be a problem.”
Two Witches and a Whiskey (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 3) Page 10