Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  Noah knocked even though Mason’s office door was open. Mason beckoned him in and Noah took a seat. While he was able to justify spying on Rachel and learning more about Cory’s demon, he still needed to tell Mason since it was going to be on company time.

  Mason gave Noah his full attention. “I’m guessing you aren’t here to tell me you’d be thrilled to take over the finances.”

  “No. I’m still thinking about it.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to do that. That would mean committing to the coven, for life, and this wasn’t his life. He still had dreams of being normal and not spending his days thinking about demons and death and ancient goddesses.

  “Thinking or stalling?”

  There was no point in lying. “Both. I don’t know that I’m the right person.” The coven wasn’t his life. In that, he envied Peyton. He had a separate career and moved around the edges of coven life. If not for Noah’s elbow he would probably have never joined a coven—his father hadn’t, nor had his grandfather. Solitary practitioners who were happy to let the old way die out. The Morrigu had had other plans for him, though. His father hated that he was working with a coven and exploring magic.

  “I’m just asking for help, not a lifetime commitment.” Mason was almost smiling. “Commitment isn’t your strong point.”

  That wasn’t true. He could get behind things. Baseball had been his priority for years. He breathed, slept and ate the game. Now he couldn’t stomach it even being on TV. He’d replaced baseball with demons. Maybe he could only do one thing at a time. “I need to get on top of all the demons She’s been throwing at me.”

  Mason didn’t move, not even a blink, and Noah wondered what the boss was hearing or seeing. “I wasn’t aware there was a new job on.”

  “It’s not a job yet, but I want to look into it.”

  “Why?”

  “This one is different. I have the chance to learn why the demon got into the crack and why the manifester is becoming violent.”

  Mason’s eyes narrowed. “And then what?”

  “Then…then I’ll…” He just wanted to know. “I’ll know the difference between a personal demon and the public-menace kind. This is important, I can feel it. Maybe there’s a tipping point, or a reason.”

  “Louise’s death wasn’t your fault and nothing you do will change that.”

  Noah closed his eyes. He knew that. Had heard it a thousand times before, but he didn’t believe it. Breaking up with Tahlia and starting to date Louise had resulted in both women dying. The common element was him. Noah opened his eyes and looked at Mason; he’d never get it. “I need to know why it happens to some people and not everyone. I need to know why some demons take over.”

  Mason nodded slowly, considering. “You’re using the coven to push your own need.”

  “I’m helping—”

  “You’re putting the coven at risk of discovery and you are placing yourself in a dangerous position. You are surrounded by death, Noah. There is only so much I can do to protect you. If the police catch you in the wrong place, everything will unravel and you will be on your own.”

  “You’re cutting me free?” The number of scrapes they’d pulled Sawyer out of and he was still thieving artifacts.

  “No. I’m telling you to be very very careful. You’re getting involved when Rachel hasn’t asked you. Are you ready to confront her husband?”

  Noah flinched. Is that what Mason had seen? “Well, if I’m dead I can’t be charged with murder.”

  Mason didn’t smile at the bad joke. “This is your last demon case for the coven. I’m not risking one of my witches because they don’t know when to stop.”

  “You can’t order me to stand by and watch people die.”

  “Demons happen, people die.” Mason leaned forward, his voice calm and yet loaded with force. “If you want to continue pursuing demons after this case you leave the coven. If you choose to stay, you take on the finances and accept that the coven is as much a part of you as you are of it.”

  Noah resisted the urge to scoot his chair back. He worked for the coven, helped the others when required. Was he being accused of not doing enough, of not being a team player? “Is that an ultimatum?”

  “No, I am giving you choices. I am protecting the coven, and I am trying to protect you from your obsession. How badly do you want to know about demons, Noah? Do you feel the crack widening with every death you see? You take each one personally, call it failure. Sometimes there is no winner and no loser. Life isn’t like baseball.”

  He wasn’t cracked. He’d know, he’d feel it. Wouldn’t he? He remembered the dreams of breaking a cup. They’d started a year ago, and at first it had been a pretty cup and full. Then it would hit the ground and become chipped, the liquid—like blood—spilling. Now the cup was rough and already damaged, the inside stained red but empty, and when it hit the ground it shattered. He frowned. The dream was just about working too hard and having nothing left. If he was cracked, why didn’t he already have a demon on his back? He wanted to turn around and check, as the skin on his back prickled as if claws were climbing up.

  “I’m careful.” Was he careful enough? Which would be worse: the cops on his tail or a demon on his back? But he knew if one came the other would follow.

  “Last one, Noah.”

  “But what will happen to all that work?”

  Mason shrugged. “I don’t know right now, but I know you can’t continue the way you have been. You’re burning out. I don’t want to lose you and I won’t risk the coven.”

  People heard coven and witches and immediately regressed about four hundred years. Every person associated with the coven would be brought down. What he was doing was bigger than risking his own life. Mason had couched it as caring but it was play by the rules or leave, and if he left, a demon would burrow in and the cops would catch him in the wrong place. He could almost see his life falling apart the way it had five years ago. Back then people had stepped in to patch it back together. His uncle and Mason, most notably. The next time he’d be on his own. He heard the slam of a cell door in his mind. That was something he never wanted to hear again.

  “What if I’m successful and I get what I need?” However small the chance, it was there and he needed to know if Mason was trying to railroad him into quitting. Mason had to care about his work.

  “Great.” Mason smiled. “Then we can disseminate the information and other covens can deal with their own demon cases.”

  And it would be out of his hands. Mason had this all tied up. The worst part was Mason was right about everything. But what would he do if he wasn’t chasing up demons?

  “You will be looking after the books, the way Peyton deals with any legal issues. You have a place here, if you are willing to accept it.”

  And admit that he was a full-time witch and everything his father hated.

  Mason picked up two files and handed them over. “Until Rachel is paying, you have other work to do as well.”

  “You don’t want my answer?”

  “No. Because you haven’t made your decision. You just think you have because one option is unpalatable. Let me know when your heart is in it.”

  Noah took the files back to his office and sat down to read them, anything to pretend that it was just another day. He saw the rest of his life stretching out as he aged in this office. He had no life beyond work. However, there was nothing he could do about that right now, especially since he’d taken on Rachel’s problem while still having to do the rest of his work.

  The first one was for an office that dealt in developing software. They wanted an extra layer of security installed—something that he and Sawyer could do in an afternoon. The second one was the Morrigu having a giggle at his expense as there was a lost cat the owner wanted found. That he could do relatively quickly.

  One find-the-kitty spell coming up. Of course, he wouldn’t tell the owner he’d found it with witchcraft; no, he was just a damn good PI. And damn good at lying. He spread out a m
ap of the city and, with the cat’s collar in one hand and a metal arrowhead on a leather string in the other, he found the cat in a couple of minutes. He took the map, the collar and his pendulum with him and went to retrieve the cat and return it to its owner. Some witches liked to use a crystal pendulum for finding things, but he’d always preferred the old metal arrowhead. He slipped it over his head so he could feel the pull against his chest.

  Two hours later, cat and owner reunited and cash in his pocket, he was actually feeling happy. The sun was shining, warming his back, and while he couldn’t save everyone, he could save a cat from slow starvation after being locked in an empty basement flat. He was that desperate he’d take any win these days. He realized he was still seeing things in terms of winning and losing, as if it was about him. He’d helped someone, that should be enough instead of trying to tally it into some invisible score sheet. The score sheet wasn’t making him happy…finding a cat had. It had also made the cat and owner happy. He needed more days like that. Was that what Mason was offering if he were to let go of the demons? What would the Morrigu say? That would be an interesting conversation, and one he wasn’t ready to have with Her.

  He knew Rachel was in the office the moment his hand touched the front door. He could see her pushing her way in, could feel her anxiety. A cloud slid over the sun and the happiness he’d felt evaporated. He swore and went in, his smile gone. He handed the invoice and fee to Mason, who was on the desk. “Cat found.”

  “She’s in your office.”

  “I know.” He didn’t stop and wait for Mason to lecture him, again. Mason wasn’t his damn father. His father gave him lectures about throwing his life away every time he rang home. He didn’t understand why his son had gotten an expensive college degree that he didn’t use or why he’d voluntarily joined a coven and was pursuing witchcraft. His father had spurned magic and ritual, believing that if the family ceased practicing the Morrigu would let them walk away. Noah was living proof the Goddess got what She wanted.

  His office door was open and Rachel was sitting with a cup of water. She was becoming a fixture in his office and, while he wasn’t going to complain, maybe he should get Rachel her own cup if she was going to keep dropping in.

  She looked up at him. “I hope you don’t mind me waiting.”

  “It’s fine.” Unless she knew magic she wouldn’t have been able to unlock his drawers, and there was nothing personal in the office. That was the way he liked it. People didn’t need to know about him, he needed to know about them. “How are you going?”

  This was where she’d either lie or tell him the truth.

  “I took your advice and moved to another hostel. I should have stayed where I was.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Her tongue darted over her lip. “He was on the train.”

  Truth. Now he was getting somewhere. He didn’t know where, but it felt like progress. He lifted his eyebrows as though he was surprised. “Did he see you?”

  “I don’t think so, and I haven’t seen him again. But if I hadn’t been moving I wouldn’t have been at risk.”

  “Or he already knew where you were staying and was coming to find you.” Which was probably closer to the truth.

  Her face paled. “He’s here. What am I supposed to do?”

  He wanted to say run, but if she ran he wouldn’t be able to follow, and right now she was his best lead into unraveling demons—his last lead. If she ran, he wouldn’t have a chance of saving her; she’d just be stalling the inevitable. Running didn’t work.

  “Tell me everything, Rachel. Like I said the first night, start at the beginning and don’t leave out anything.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Have I doubted you yet?” He smiled, grabbed a piece of paper and leaned forward.

  Rachel considered him for a moment. Dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. His coat was draped over the back of his chair where he’d dropped it when he’d come in. He had that same cocksure glint in his eye, but he was all business again. It was almost as if he knew something she didn’t. Or thought he knew.

  Just what would he say if she said she thought Cory was using magic and not drugs to stay in the game? Would his lips widen in to a grin before he fell off his chair laughing or would he manage to keep a straight face until she left and then laugh behind her back?

  And yet, when she looked closer, she was sure his apparent confidence was an act. A varnish over something much darker. She wasn’t sure she wanted to scratch it and see what lay beneath. Her fingers curled against her thigh.

  Why did she keep coming back?

  Because Noah listened, and so far that put him head and shoulder above everyone else. Even her parents. Cory could do no wrong, hell the whole town thought that. Every fan probably thought that. She was the jealous wife who was being a bitch and overreacting and Cory was the come-back king!

  “Promise me you’ll listen to the end and not laugh.”

  “So far what you’ve told me hasn’t sounded very funny,” he said, being completely serious.

  She huffed out a breath. “Fine, don’t accuse me of being crazy. I know what I’ve seen.”

  He leaned forward a fraction, suddenly more intent. “What have you seen?”

  The look on his face made her want to ease back into her chair. It was…too…intense, too focused. Too something. And yet, at the same time, it warmed her all the way to her toes. Maybe she just kept coming back because he was gorgeous and she just wanted to spend some time with a nice-looking man before her husband caught up with her.

  Maybe she should’ve cheated on him so he’d have something to be mad about.

  She swallowed. “Twelve months ago Cory was injured. But I’m sure you know that.”

  He nodded, confirming her suspicion that he’d dug far deeper into her life than she’d expected, considering she wasn’t paying him.

  “He should never have played again. At first he was gutted, he was depressed, popping pills and seeing people to try and fix him continually.”

  It had been the darkest part of their marriage, but she’d been there even as he’d been pushing her aside. Not man enough for her, as if all his worth was tied to a stupid ball. She’d loved him because he made her laugh, they had fun, he’d made her feel like the only woman in the world. When things had been good, she’d been able to brush aside the other things. He had an image to maintain. She had to play the part in public even though she resented the idea that being herself wasn’t good enough.

  “About two months into his physio he changed again. The depression lifted, he stopped talking suicide. I was thrilled and thought things would go back the way they were—not that they had been perfect, no marriage is—but it was like living with a stranger. He’d watch me, like really watch me, as if expecting me to do something. He’d follow me, accuse me of spending too much time out and making up meetings with my friends. Then when I was at home, he told me to back off, leave him alone, and that he was concentrating on getting better and didn’t have time for me.” Whatever she did, it had been wrong.

  “Did he stop sleeping with you?”

  Rachel frowned. “What does that matter?”

  Noah gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Perhaps he was having an affair, wanted to be faithful to the new woman.”

  “No.” That would have been better. That would have been easy to explain, even if it was still painful. “He told me he couldn’t have sex, that it would take energy from the healing. Four months later he was training again.”

  Noah tapped the pencil on the edge of the table, his forehead creased. “So why did he get better? Did he get some magic medicine, pray for a miracle?”

  “I don’t think it was a miracle he was using.” She’d seen blood on the hem of his jeans when doing the laundry. Found a black silk robe at the back of the closet and had caught him putting powders and herbs into his protein shakes. She drew in a breath and lifted her gaze from Noah’s illegible notes to his fac
e. This was where it would go horribly wrong and she wanted to watch for the flicker of mirth on his face, or the realization he was talking to a crazy lady. But she knew she wasn’t crazy. The Cory she knew no longer existed; something else had taken his place. “People don’t change.”

  “Actually they do. Head injuries, trauma—”

  “Not like this. He looks like Cory, but he isn’t. I think when he started using black magic to heal, something took him over.” She shuddered at the memory of him turning out the light and, for a nanosecond, seeing a monster instead of his shadow on the wall. “I saw the devil in his shadow.”

  The pencil went still, for a moment there wasn’t a single sound. It was as if time had stopped and only she was awake. Then he spoke. “Firstly, black magic isn’t a healing force.”

  She blinked, waiting for him to laugh or clap his hands or do something instead of looking perfectly serious. He had to be laughing on the inside.

  “Secondly, draw the shadow.” He handed her the pencil and a sheet of paper.

  She started reaching for the pencil before her brain realized what he’d said. “What?”

  “Draw me the devil that you saw.”

  He wasn’t just listening, he was believing every word she said. Wasn’t he supposed to tell her magic isn’t real and that what she saw must have been a trick of the light? He was supposed to be explaining things away the way everyone else had. This was more unnerving. What if what she’d seen was real and she wasn’t crazy? Her heart began to race and the room became warm. She’d wanted someone to listen to her, and now someone was and it wasn’t making things easier. “Um, why?”

  “Because I need to know what it looked like, and technically demon is the word you want. The devil is a Christian concept and demons predate Christianity.”

  She took the pencil but her fingers were numb and her hand was shaky. “Why are you humoring me?”

  “I’m not.”

  “What I just said can’t be true.” Everyone else had told her it was impossible, that she must have been drunk. That she should be supporting Cory instead of trying to keep him down. Didn’t she want her husband to get better? She did, but he wasn’t better. He was different.