Chapter Four
Anyone who'd never heard of the Wayward, never needed a favor. There were other magical families, but the Wayward had always been the strongest—the most deadly.
They had outfits from here to Timbuktu. In Italy, cousin Maloccio dealt exclusively in magical malfeasance and extortion. Tokyo was home to Great-Aunt Kimiko's paranormal yakuza. Even the family's L.A office traded in assassination, soul stealing and show business.
Might makes right—the only family motto. The Wayward took what they wanted—from humans, creatures of the underworld, anyone not powerful enough to stop them. In a world where the average human was happy believing in only what they saw every day, opportunities for exploitation were everywhere.
The last Wayward child was fated. Seventh child of parents both born to that mystical position themselves—seventh-born of the seventh-born, twice over. That poor kid was supposed to be the most powerful witch the world had seen since Morgan le Fay trapped Merlin in Avalon.
Just to be aggravating, the little Wayward twerp had the nerve to be born without magic.
How did I know all this?
I was that pathetic little kid. I was a witch, born without magic.
My real name hadn't been spoken to me in almost a year.
I was the dirty family secret—a curse from the trickster gods to bring us down a peg or two. It didn't take long for the other families to discover that the newest Wayward was powerless, useless as any human baby. My parents never quite lived down the embarrassment.
My family treated me like a scapegoat. Childhood squabbles turned deadly when magic was involved. My older siblings never let me forget that I wasn't like them. I only survived as long as I did because I never had anything that anyone wanted enough to kill me for.
I would have stayed on the fringes of my family—barely surviving—forever. A year ago, everything changed.
A faint sheen of sweat broke out under West's lip. His eyes darted nervously from my face to the face of the nightmare standing behind me. I hoped he recognized what he'd done. A deal with the devil never worked out for anybody.
"Helena Xanthe Wayward. Do you have any idea what a difficult young woman you are to find, my dear?"
"Darius." I turned to meet a face that I wished had stayed firmly in my bad memories. "It didn't occur to you that I might not want to be found?"
"I see you haven't lost your spirit." Darius Aguinas, second-in-command of the Blooded and a powerful witch himself, slipped off his long coat and slung it over the back of the chair at a table next to us. He slid into the chair in an elegant motion and crossed one leg over the other. "It was so disappointing when you ran."
"I didn't run from you."
"Such a nimble tongue." He tipped a plastic stand on its side that held an advertisement for holiday-themed lattes—gingerbread and spice. "I wonder what it would look like in a glass case."
West made a startled noise in his throat and I cut my eyes to him. "What did you think would happen," I snarled at him.
"You've served your purpose, boy." Darius nodded to the door. "Off with you."
Not needing to be told twice, West slid past me and was out the door faster than I realized he could move.
"You never can trust a shapeshifter," Darius murmured sadly. "They'd sell their own mothers for something shiny."
I swore if I survived long enough to see West again, I'd wring his weaselly little neck.
"This is a public place, Darius." Nancy rolled silverware behind the counter, she hadn't yet noticed his sudden appearance. Big Larry had already disappeared behind the grill.
As I stared into his eyes, so pale they were colorless, I felt only tired. "If you're going to kill me, better make it quick."
That startled a laugh out of him. "I'm not here to kill you, kitten."
My eyebrows rose. "Why are you here, then?"
"Sit." He gestured to a chair across from him. "Life away from home has done little for your manners."
I dropped gracelessly into the seat. Darius always liked to play his games. I would play along for now.
"Pleasant reunions are a balm to the soul," he said genially, his smile mocking. He picked up the tabletop advertisement again and slowly examined it. "I think I'll try the pumpkin spice latte—so festive. Would you like one?"
I shook my head slowly as he rose and walked to the counter, feeling dazed. The world was tilted to the side and spinning crazily on its axis. Any moment I would fly off the planet and be lost to the universe.
Darius had his back to me as he spoke to Nancy, laying on the charm I was sure. The path to the door was clear.
I could run. Jump on my bike and ride until it ran out of gas. It would take a while for him to trail me.
The thought was abandoned before it had a chance to fully form. It might be days or even week but eventually they would find me again. Things would only be worse for the waiting.
Darius returned and slid back into his seat. He took a small sip of the cup in his hand and sighed. "Humans truly do understand the simple pleasures." He gave me a dark smile. "But you know all about that."
"Why are you here, Darius?"
He scooted his chair around the side of the table until we were so close that I could smell cinnamon and nutmeg from the drink on his breath. "Do you enjoy this? Running from city to city—praying to the gods that you stay one step ahead of us?"
"What do you want?" I whispered.
"A trade." He rubbed a strand of my hair between his fingers. "A favor now, for a favor later."
I resisted the urge to pull away. "What are you offering."
"Everything. I can give you your life back."
"How?"
Nancy turned her head at the sudden loudness of my voice. I sank back into the seat embarrassed.
"Simple," Darius said as he traced patterns on the table with the tip of his finger. "You don't have to run if no one is chasing you."
"You would pay my blood price?" I asked softly.
He nodded once and smirked.
"Why?"
"You know why." His voice was sly, calculating.
"I want to hear you say it."
I closed my eyes as he spoke because I knew what was coming. Darius said the words I'd dreaded hearing from the moment I felt demon magic on the night air.
"Because of Valentine, of course."
Wayward Page 6