“She’s helping him—”
He pointed the fork at me. “No,” he said, jabbing the air. “She’s helping herself.”
I turned away and found a package of sourdough bread leftover from breakfast. “I’m just going to make a sandwich for Birdie.”
“You’ll have to make it yourself because Tierra fired the caterer,” he said. “I got out the leftover lamb. I ate the steak already. You want some?”
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’ll eat later.”
“I eat early. I like to fast at least sixteen hours every night. It’s better for your metabolism. You ever do intermittent fasting?”
“Only against my will,” I said.
He cast a critical eye over my physique. “You should try it.”
I found a tray on a stack by the microwave and set it on the kitchen island across from him. “I’ve got other priorities right now.”
Shrugging, he tore the foil off the platter. “Tierra told the food lady to get lost because she wants the excuse to spend more time with Warren.”
“No, she—”
“She’s fooled you,” he said. “It’s her talent. She’s not what she seems. You probably see this Bright, friendly witch who just wants to make people happy, doing her own thing.”
I couldn’t help but like Tierra, but Crystal had been blackmailing her for stealing from her audience. Given my family history, I had complicated feelings about theft.
“You don’t think she’s Bright?” I asked. He was clearly bitter, and I was skeptical of his opinion.
He stabbed a hunk of meat and dropped it on his plate. Obviously enjoying the suspense, he wiped his fingers on a napkin, took his time finding a knife and fork, regarded his meal, and finally looked at me. “She’s dabbled in Shadow. So much so we have an accounting category for payoffs to witches who figure it out.”
“She’s gotten caught stealing?” I asked carefully.
Snorting, he shook his head. “You have no idea.”
“Tell me.”
“You’re thinking it’s just a little silver here, a few dollars there. But we’re talking about the kind of stealing that gets you in real trouble.” He began cutting his meat. “She steals pieces of her audience.”
“Pieces?”
“Biomat,” he said, taking a bite. “Hair, usually. She binds it to the puppets. Then uses them to manipulate the audience.”
I stared at him, wanting to use a truth spell but fearing it would shut him up. “To do what?”
“Nothing bad,” he said. “Clap, laugh, volunteer to help the magician on stage. Crystal got wind of it because one witch friend of hers went to the show and got hurt so badly somebody called an ambulance. She pulled her back out trying to jump into a hat.”
I didn’t believe him. He was just an angry, ego-challenged male trying to get even with his girlfriend. “When do you collect the biomatter?” I asked, not hiding my skepticism. “You can’t stop the show and pull the nice people’s hair out.”
“One of us is at the door, greeting the audience as they come in. Or if it’s a witch event, mingling before the show. Shows are usually held at a private house or apartment.”
“And then?” I asked.
“Backstage, right before the show, Tierra attaches the hair, saliva, even dandruff, to the puppets. She wants to keep them separate, so different people respond in particular ways.”
His tone was mild and businesslike, and I found myself believing him. But the implications…
Using biomatter from strangers without consent—for profit—would merit a long stay in Protectorate custody. Private use was illegal too, but most witches used hair or toenail clippings at least once in their lives, and the Protectorate didn’t have the resources to punish small-scale violations.
That was the Shadow magic Crystal had found out about. Not stealing valuable odds and ends for profit but stealing intimate biological material for manipulation.
Much, much worse.
“Did you tell Darius Ironford about this?” I asked.
“No way, are you kidding?” He went to the fridge and took out a carton of almond milk. “I’d be implicated myself. I’m her business manager. I’m in too deep.”
“So why tell me?” I asked.
He poured his milk into a glass and sat down again. “The Protectorate canned you, so you won’t report her. But maybe you can convince her to stop. This thing with Crystal was a wake-up call. I’m done playing with Shadow, even for the woman I love.”
“Seems like it’s a good thing for both of you that Crystal is dead,” I said.
“Oh, she never really would’ve ratted on Tierra. Crystal made threats, but she knew as well as I do how strong the bond is between Warren and Tierra. If Crystal ever did anything to his old apprentice, Warren would—” he laughed. “He’d divorce her.”
I wasn’t sure I believed it, but he seemed to. “You think Warren cares about Tierra that much?” I asked. What I’d seen had suggested the adoration was more one-sided.
“Oh yeah,” he said, scraping the rest of the food into a mountain, then shoveling it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, wiped his mouth. “Like right now. If she were anyone else, he would’ve kicked us all out as soon as the police left. Yeah, he likes her just fine. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
I stared at him with distaste. “You’re determined to make it something nasty, when lots of apprentices and masters develop long-lasting, close bonds like that.” I’d never had one, but I’d seen them. “Love doesn’t have to be dirty.”
“Love?” He laughed. “Warren only wants what all men want. Tierra’s happy to give it to him.”
I didn’t laugh with him. “You’re determined to twist—”
“It is twisted.” He jumped up angrily. “What Tierra loves is his power. His name. His money. Money most of all.”
“But he’s not rich anymore,” I said. “He admitted that to the police.”
“That’s just Warren being part of the one percent,” he said. “Poor to him is filthy rich to anyone else. The Hawks are loaded. Money like that only grows over the centuries.”
“They used to be, but—”
“Money isn’t why Crystal killed herself. If she killed herself. Warren has funded Tierra’s show for more than a decade—and he gave her more money this year than ever. I know. I’m the business manager. I know where the checks come from.” He began rinsing his plate in the sink. “And checks from Warren Hawk never bounce.”
“But Crystal was blackmailing her,” I said. “Why do that if Warren was so generous—”
“Power. Jealousy. Control. Spite. Maybe—no, certainly—a little hate.” He rinsed the remaining plates and silverware in the sink, put them in the dishwasher, then added detergent. He moved with angry, abrupt movements, but he didn’t leave any mess for someone else to clean. He even took out a cloth, dampened it under the faucet, and began wiping the counters.
He was a hot-tempered man but one who was in control of himself. Was he dangerous? Phil had warned us about Nathan’s dark side. Maybe, as a demon, he’d seen something humans couldn’t.
It seemed a stretch. Nathan’s negative demeanor was probably just an unfortunate quirk of his personality, hardly rare among human beings, magical or not. Tierra wouldn’t be the first woman to have bad taste.
And yet… something about their relationship had seemed… phony. Forced. Tierra didn’t seem to like him very much, yet she dated him, worked with him, and vacationed with him. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t think anything of it, relationships were always mysterious, but with murder and demons and supernatural forces, it made me curious. Did he have some kind of hold over her? Why had he come with her this week when he usually didn’t?
As I resumed making a sandwich, I risked a small probe of his body as he wiped the cloth over the countertops. Demon-hunting lessons at the Protectorate had relied on using metal to find the hidden spirits, but at the end of class, every once in a while if he was b
ored, the mage professor had mentioned a few lesser tricks.
The most simple: sight. Did the suspect move with comfort in his body? Was the suspect clumsy, tripping over unfamiliar feet or frequently biting his finger when eating solid food?
Nathan certainly wasn’t clumsy. He walked with the smooth grace of a lean, conditioned athlete. His posture was strong and straight. When he had prepared his food, he’d cut through the meat and moved it to his plate with quick, confident motions, and every morsel had gone where he’d wanted it to. He’d welcomed the lamb into his mouth with flaring nostrils and a slight moan of appreciation.
Surely a demon wouldn’t enjoy eating corporeal flesh with so much pleasure?
He caught me staring and stopped wiping the counter. I looked away, but it was too late.
A slow grin stretched across his face. Leaving the cloth where it was, he moved closer to me with that athletic grace I’d just noted.
“I didn’t mean anything earlier.” He pushed the tray between us to the side. “About fasting.”
I stabbed a butter knife into the peanut butter. “Excuse me?”
“You’re fine just the way you are.” Leaning his elbows on the counter, he looked up at me from under his lashes. “Strong and healthy.”
Demon’s balls. I’d triggered some kind of mating reflex. I scooped out a glob of peanut butter and flopped it onto the bread. “Thanks. Birdie’s strong and healthy too. I’m sure you were concerned about her. She drained herself, but she’ll be fine.”
Continuing to stare at me, he asked, “You’re truly a Bright witch, aren’t you?” He leaned closer, his warm gaze locking onto mine. “I find that very attractive.”
I gripped the knife handle. “The last guy I dated got murdered.”
Breaking the gaze only for a second, he dipped his finger in the peanut butter and lifted it to his mouth. “Who said anything about dating?”
I was beginning to understand why Tierra had kept him around. In spite of my dislike for him, my toes were curling into my shoes. Not all magic was supernatural.
“I’m not interested,” I said.
In the process of sucking peanut butter off his finger, his expression went cold.
“But thanks,” I added.
The corner of one lip curled slightly, his shoulder hunched in dismissal, and he turned away. “You’re welcome.” He grabbed the cloth and hurled it into the sink. “Too bad. We could’ve made lemonade out of this load of lemons we’ve got here.”
I finished making the sandwich, relaxing as his love charm faded. That was one impressive trick. His sex appeal had been supernatural.
How many women had fallen for it? Now that he’d turned it off, I could feel the edges of the power wafting around him, mingling with the air, his skin, the tattoos and piercings. Had he managed to take something of mine—hair, spit, an eyelash—to break through my defensive spells without my being aware of it happening?
He walked to the swinging door that led to the dining room. “I won’t be seeing you again. Tierra’s made her choice. I’m out of here.” He stretched his arms wide. “Last chance.”
This time I felt the spell snake under my chin and wrap around my neck twice before beginning to slide down my spine.
I chopped it off before it passed my bra strap and flung it back at him at three times the speed with none of his grace. It struck him in the face like a pie, messy and unusable, not sexy at all.
He recoiled, made a rude gesture, and pushed his way out the door, leaving me alone with the residue of his ugly charms.
Five minutes later, as I was walking out the kitchen with Birdie’s tray, I heard his car peel out of the driveway.
Another one gone.
Chapter Forty
By four o’clock that afternoon, Birdie was in the living room, fully recovered and playing a nonmagical game on her phone. I sat nearby, cross-legged on the floor with my eyes closed, analyzing why her spell had gone wrong. I’d been unable to find any lingering malice or Shadow, finding only the energy signature of a novice witch who had overextended herself.
“I know I should be practicing my defensive spells,” Birdie said as her phone beeped beneath her fingers, “but I’m just too tired.”
“You drained yourself. It takes time to come back.” I put my hand on the arm of the sofa and hauled myself to my feet. “Now you know you’ve got real power inside you. It just takes a toll when you use it.”
Birdie grinned at me. “Real power. Me.” She shook her head. “Hilarious.”
“Sometimes it can be hard to remember how exhausting it is, so don’t do any magic while you’re driving,” I said. “Even little spells. Until you have more experience.”
A car’s headlights shone through the windows, and I waited to see who it was. Had Nathan regretted storming off and come back?
But a few minutes later, it was Tierra, looking tired, who walked into the room. “Hey,” she said. “Did you find something to eat?”
“We’re fine,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about us. Listen—”
“I can’t help worrying. It’s what I do. Totally ridiculous personality profile for a performer. There’s always something to worry about.”
I glanced at Birdie, who knew about Nathan leaving; we shared a look, and then I turned back to Tierra. “Listen, Tierra. Nathan left.”
She frowned at me blankly. Then, “Left?”
I nodded. “I didn’t know if he texted…”
“You mean he left, like, with his bags,” Tierra said flatly.
“I think so. I didn’t see him actually leave, but he told me he was going to.”
For a moment Tierra’s eyes swam with emotion, and she bit her lip and looked away. But then, an instant later, she flung up her hands and said, “Whatever. I don’t have time for his drama. Do you know where we just were?”
“I thought you were getting his sculptures at the gallery,” I said.
“Well, it turns out that was just pretense on his part,” Tierra said. “You know where we really went?”
For a moment I had the wild thought she was going to say they went to the brewery, just to see for themselves where Phil had met his end. Or maybe Nathan had been right and Warren had surprised her with a romantic night out. “A restaurant?” I asked.
Tierra lowered her voice. “The crematorium. Apparently he’d scheduled an appointment to pick up Crystal’s ashes but hadn’t wanted to go by himself.”
“I can’t blame him,” Birdie said. “It’s scary. You go into this conference room like you’re going to apply for a job or get a loan and instead they hand you a baggie with jewelry and… Anyway. I don’t blame him for wanting company. I had to go by myself. You know, when my mom died.”
Tierra nodded. “We did go into the room, and he did sign for her remains, but—”
She cut herself off, and Birdie and I looked at each other.
“But what?” I asked. A witch’s remains were rumored to hold power, enough to start fires.
“He couldn’t do it,” Tierra said. “We just left her there.”
I nodded, sympathetic but a little disappointed. From the way she was acting, I’d expected at least a little smoke. “Maybe he’ll be up for it in the morning. The funeral isn’t until evening.”
“No, I mean he just left her box there. In the parking lot.” Tierra leaned against the couch and rubbed her eyes. “I carried it out to his car—it’s heavier than I expected, not that I should say that—but he wouldn’t open the trunk. He… He broke down. He asked me to find her a safe spot until I could come back for her.”
“You? Not him?” I asked.
“He said he was cursed. As her husband, he’s responsible for her suicide.” Tierra sighed. “I knew he blamed himself, but it’s much worse than I realized. He was afraid to put her in the car. I told him he’s grieving, it’s the pain talking, but in the end I had to put her under a shield spell and leave her there under a bush.”
“Demon’s balls,” Birdie s
aid.
“Yeah,” Tierra agreed. “And now I can’t even go get it because I don’t have a car because my boyfriend stranded me here. I’m sure Warren won’t let me borrow his, not if he thinks Crystal’s out to get him. Then he’d have two dead women on his conscience.”
“So, Crystal’s dead,” Birdie began. “Right?”
“Yes, but her spirit might have some power,” I said. “Maybe. I don’t know. There are lots of rumors, but I think most people are just dead when they’re dead.”
“If my mom could’ve come back and haunted me, I’m sure she would have,” Birdie said. “I let her rosebushes die. She never would’ve let that happen if she was still around.”
I gave her a sad smile and turned to Tierra. “I can drive with you to get the ashes in the morning,” I said. “And when it’s time to go home, if you don’t have another ride, I could drive you as far as Santa Rosa. You can catch a bus there to San Francisco. You might not trust any of the other witches who might come to the funeral to give you a ride.”
“Thanks,” Tierra said, “but I might need to stay longer. Warren’s finances aren’t going to get better by themselves. Even when he was younger, he was too absentminded to handle the daily grind. His skills are all in his art.”
“Nathan suggested he’s not actually hurting financially,” I said carefully.
Tierra frowned, looking confused. “Why would he say that?” At first her tone was sad, but something seemed to strike her, and her tone suddenly became venomous. “Makes him feel better about taking so much of Warren’s money over the years. I bet you he was skimming off plenty for himself too. Just wait until I get my own CPA to audit the books.”
“So Warren really is broke?”
Tierra sighed, looking around the living room, the windows to the sea, the cozy dining area. “This property will bring in plenty of income with the right management. Crystal was stupid not to take paying guests.” She blinked. “What’s the matter with me? She hasn’t even had her rites yet, and I’m bad-mouthing her. I only mean he’ll be fine with a little help. If someone sets up Hawk Ranch as a B & B, his life and all its vital routines can go on as usual.”
Hex at a House Party Page 27