by Shona Husk
Her gaze drifted over his hands. No rings, no jewelry of any kind except something around his neck.
“I can try. Hell, I might get lucky.”
Heat crept up her neck even though she knew that wasn’t the kind of getting lucky he was talking about. She tried to will it away but the burn blossomed on her cheeks.
“I meant with the demon…er, not like that.”
“I know.” And yet her cheeks were still burning. Could he read minds? Did he know what she was thinking? She shouldn’t have started thinking about his tattoos. “Right. Um.” She stood up. “Thank you for your time, again, and your honesty. I need to think.”
If she believed in Cory’s demon, she had to believe in witches. She had to believe in Noah. It was all a little too much right now. She just wanted a coffee and to pretend that it would all go away if she hid under the nearest rock. He’d admitted that he could try and she might still die. A one percent chance. She had no idea what to do: live it up or fight?
He walked around the desk. “You may not have long to think. He’s here and closing in.”
She nodded. “Either way I should make a bucket list.” She didn’t feel like she was dying. It wasn’t as though she was sick and had been given days or months. It was as if she’d suddenly been stamped with an expiry date. “Can I come back tomorrow? I realize I’m probably wasting your time when you could be doing other things.” What else did he do here?
He placed his hand on her arm. “It’s okay. I’ll make time for you. I want to solve this.”
While his blue eyes burned hot, his voice was all about business, the case and not her, as if he was putting up a wall around himself. He had to be around the same age as her, and yet, he was harder and more guarded. What had happened to him?
Demons had happened. She knew that as if he’d spoken the words, but she wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to ask what he’d seen and what he’d done to survive.
Chapter 7
Rachel was sharing a room in the hostel with one other person—who was soundly sleeping with the occasional snore. That wasn’t what was keeping her awake. Somehow her life had become so derailed she was sleeping in a bargain hostel and hoping she wouldn’t get bitten by bedbugs while praying her husband wouldn’t find her. Every time her leg itched she imagined one of the insects nibbling at her. She curled her fingers into a fist to avoid scratching.
Over the last week she’d stopped wondering if she could’ve done things differently. While asking for the divorce had pushed Cory to the edge, he would’ve gotten there anyway. She could almost track the escalations. At the time, she’d made an excuse for each one, forgiven him and done what he’d asked. Quit her job, spent more time at home. Stopped asking questions.
She should’ve asked more. Then she could’ve told Noah exactly what was going on. But he was right. While she knew something was fundamentally wrong, she hadn’t wanted to name it, because naming it was both laughable and scary. Had she lost her grip on reality, or was reality just different to what she’d thought it was?
Noah seemed sane. Yet he’d called himself a witch.
She pulled out her smart phone and searched the internet for witches, but all the references were either about witch hunts in the Middle Ages, the Salem Witch Trials or modern-day Wicca. What was his Goddess called? Morgan, meringue, Morrigu? The Morrigu. She followed a link.
As a raven, the Morrigu was a herald of death, hovering around battles and favoring warriors, but She was also represented as a cow and tied to the land, wealth and fertility. The Celts really liked their multi-faceted goddesses. Rachel read a little more about modern interpretations but then skipped back to the history. The Morrigu had turned the tides of battles and had bands of young warriors sworn to Her service. Now that was interesting… Rachel clicked on the highlighted link and scanned the next webpage. To win the battle that had started as a land dispute, a group of Lords had promised their youngest sons to Her service, but She’d been cunning and had taken the youngest son of the youngest son for all time. There was a mention of raven gangs popping up from time to time, but nothing else and no mention of witchcraft.
So that made Noah the youngest child. What was his last name? She was sure she’d been told, but there was nothing on the business card and she couldn’t remember. Damn. She let the screen turn off but kept it in her hand as she closed her eyes and tried to sleep again.
Now all she could think about were ravens and death. Her death. If her arms and legs were ripped off, for how long would she be conscious? The pain would be excruciating, plus the loss of blood. It would be quick. She hoped it would be quick. What the hell was she thinking? She didn’t want to die, quickly or otherwise.
No bedbugs, no ravens, no demons. She needed something else to think about.
Her mind was empty for a moment. Witches. Weren’t they supposed to be evil? Noah didn’t look evil, but then he didn’t look like a witch, either. He looked hot. Her lips curved. She’d like to see him without his shirt on again and check out his tattoos, maybe even ask what they meant.
She sucked in a breath. Would she get that chance? She glanced at the door, her ears straining for his heavy footsteps. Nothing. If Cory broke in tonight and dragged her from her bed, what were the things she’d regret the most?
She had to call her parents again, and her sister. They did love her, even if they didn’t understand how she could walk away from her marriage. She doubted she’d ever be able to chip through the Cory-hometown-hero image, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. He could have his life, and she could have hers. She didn’t want vengeance or to bring him down, she just wanted to be free.
If she were free, what would she do?
She’d never been to Paris. Did she really want to go to Paris or was that just the destination everyone wanted to go to? Oh god, she didn’t know where she wanted to go. There must be somewhere she wanted to see. If she had a passport and could go anywhere… Her heart pulsed, marking time. Countries and destinations whirled past. There were too many to choose from.
There was a good chance she wouldn’t get to see her next birthday, yet she had nothing on her list of things she wanted to do before she died. That was pathetic. If she was going to run, she wanted to be running to something, she wanted it to count.
She turned her phone back on and started making a list. Short term, medium term and long term…long term being if she was Noah’s lucky one percent. Short term was in the next twenty-four hours. She stared at the screen for a moment. Ideas formed and she discounted them as silly or lame just as fast. She could almost hear Cory telling her to stop wasting time, and then he’d pick where they’d have dinner or what she was going to wear to the next event.
This was her list and nothing was too silly. Besides, she didn’t have to tell anyone.
See Noah without his shirt on, she typed. That was as good a place to start as any. Not that she expected to get it, but hey, a girl could dream.
Have a really good steak. A really good big steak with fries. The kind of thing that Cory had said were men’s meals and she shouldn’t eat in public.
Get drunk on really good alcohol. Champagne, whiskey, cocktails—it didn’t matter.
She could do all of that in a day, and if she made it through that day she could move onto the slightly more difficult things like… She frowned, and the screen dimmed as she thought. This was much harder than she’d imagined. Did other people have lists of things they wanted to do before they died, or was that one of those things a person only did when the bad news came in?
She was in New York, she had to see something on Broadway. Again, she wasn’t fussed about what as she didn’t have time to worry about it.
Own a pair of Serulean shoes. Did she actually care about shoes? At least if her legs were pulled off they’d look great. A pair of really flashy shoes, something that would be fun and impractical instead of classic. Not black or white or nude. And while she’d had plenty of expensive shoes before, she’d never
had a pair of Seruleans with the designer’s blue snake logo on the sole. She’d asked for a pair before and he’d said no, called them tacky and overpriced even though plenty of celebs wore them. He wouldn’t be able to stop her this time. Affording them would be another issue. But it was her list and she was pretending money was no problem.
Rachel read through her list. It was all just trimming. What did she really want? Could she make Cory suffer? Make him afraid? Would that change anything? No, probably not, and she’d much rather he walk away and leave her alone. This list had to be about her.
The woman on the other side of the room gave a loud snore, stopped breathing for a moment, then rolled over.
Stay in fancy hotel…with Noah.
She closed her eyes for a moment. It had been a long time since a man had done anything but snore next to her. Since two days before the injury. For the first three months she’d ached for attention. Then the need had gradually faded. But it was back. And she was blaming Noah’s sweaty muscles. Him, her, one hotel room…she wanted to write that down. But no. She doubted he’d agree to being a thing on her list. Besides, she didn’t want a pity screw.
Her list was truly a piteous thing, and most of it involved money she couldn’t access. However, Cory was already in New York so what did it matter? She could take out a wad of cash from their joint account if he hadn’t canceled her card. And then she’d be able to pay Noah’s fee. She grinned in the dark.
How long would it take to get a passport? If she left the country would Cory be able to catch her? Would he really miss training and games and jeopardize his comeback to make her miserable, get her back or kill her? She’d never had a passport, had never left the country. Where would she go? An island? No, too much like her honeymoon in Hawaii.
There was that ice hotel somewhere. That would be fun. She’d never skied before, either. She added that to her list, and it was starting to look like a list.
Number one still seemed like the most fun. Would he do it? She couldn’t imagine him doing anything so frivolous. But she could play the about-to-die card. Would he deny a doomed woman one last glimpse of ripped abs? The steak was probably the easiest thing on her list.
She flicked her phone off. Could she be any more true to type? She always fell for the jocks. The phone remained clutched to her chest as she breathed in the slightly stale air of the hostel. Noah wasn’t a jock; he was fit, warrior fit, because he was one of the Morrigu’s witches. That was different. He didn’t live sports. He was all about survival. And as of tomorrow, her survival.
She had a list and she was going to cross things off it. Cory could go to hell.
Noah paced around his apartment. Water still dripped off his hair. Even though he should be tired after training, he and Sawyer did an after-work boot camp, he wasn’t. He needed to be doing something. Oskar was digging up whatever he could find on Cory Daniels.
Rachel was safely ensconced in the hostel and it was probably too public for Cory to make a move—assuming he’d found where she was staying. Which he hopefully hadn’t. Tomorrow Noah would smoke the trail and buy some time. He flexed his arm, the scar pulling. It was nice when he could forget about it, if only for a few hours, but it wasn’t right, just useable.
It could be worse, though, he could have gone all black magic like Cory. There’d been a few moments, days really, when he’d been tempted. It was seductive like that. If he was whole, he could get his life back. The Morrigu had haunted his dreams and dragged him—literally dragged him—through futures he didn’t want to see if he went down that path.
He’d fallen at Her feet and vowed to kill demons for Her if She’d stop the darkness from claiming him. He’d handed over his heart. And here he was. Sane and demon free, yet still spending far too much time with demons. More time with Rachel would be nice. As in with her knowing he was there, not him stalking her like a creep to keep her safe while he studied her demon-shrouded husband.
Smoke spell first.
Since it wasn’t in his ready-made set of spells, he actually needed a prop. He grabbed a small zip lock bag and tipped less than a handful of flour into it. He liked flour as it had no scent and was a nice fine powder, plus it confused ants when sprinkled on a trail, and that was exactly what he wanted. The rest of the spell was just pouring in intent, which he would do as required. Magic wasn’t as complicated as people thought, but it did require the ability to focus wholly on the outcome—having a goddess to lend a hand helped considerably. He placed the bag with his wallet on the kitchen bench and checked the time.
It would be late in England, but David would still be up. Noah selected the number and waited for his uncle to answer. His uncle was probably expecting the call. It rang four times before David picked up.
“Noah, I was beginning to think I was wrong about getting a call.” David wasn’t a witch but magic ran in his blood, and while he may not pray to the Morrigu, he’d still found a calling in religion.
“I was doing a few things.”
“How’s your family?”
“Fine.” He should call them more often but he didn’t want to listen to his father explain how much money it cost to go to college and how he had a degree that he wasn’t using. His father liked to claim they were a good Catholic family that didn’t mess around with witchcraft.
“How’s your other family?” David asked, meaning the coven.
“Better. Mason wants me to take over the finances.” He didn’t want to admit to the disguised ultimatum.
“That would appease your father a bit, wouldn’t it? Is that why you hesitate?”
“No, I think I need to give up on my project.” That nearly killed him to say. As a priest, David knew all about demons. They’d spoken many times about them and exchanged ideas. One key point that David had raised was that only when the manifester was ready could the demon be traditionally exorcised. Magic was magic and people had free will.
“There is a difference between giving up and no longer making it the focus of your life.”
Noah sat on the sofa, leaned back and closed his eyes. He’d been expecting David to tell him that his work was important and that he had to continue. Instead his uncle was agreeing with Mason. For two very different people they often had the same point of view when it came to him. They’d both been there to save him from prison.
“Is there? I made a promise that I’d find the answer.”
“No god or goddess gives you more than you can handle.”
It just felt that way. The idea of walking away from it all and being normal was tempting, and yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. He’d still see magic and demons everywhere he went, and sooner or later he’d be practicing again, but without the backup of the coven. Magic was in his blood. “Bet you don’t talk like that at church.”
David laughed. “You aren’t failing, Noah. But I know you feel like you are. I can feel it rolling off you. Take a break, regroup, come at it from a fresh angle. The demons aren’t going anywhere, but pushing yourself to the edge won’t help.”
“I can’t. I have an active case.”
“Ah. And that is the problem.”
Noah told him about Rachel and Cory. “I can’t watch her die.”
“You like her.”
Rachel was there in his mind. Her soft blue eyes and her honey hair pulled back. It would curl over her shoulder if taken down. She hadn’t freaked when he’d explained about witches and demons. Besides, while he liked the look of Rachel, he didn’t know anything about her—which was exactly how he usually liked it. No questions, no morning-after phone calls. Just an itch that needed to be scratched. Then he looked at Mason and Oskar, both happily married to women who accepted them for what they were. He could have never shared that with Louise. But then he he’d never really loved her; how many twenty-one-year-olds knew what love was? He pulled back before the old recriminations surfaced; maybe if he had loved her it would have been different. If he hadn’t started dating her, his ex wouldn’t have gott
en her demon. “No, it’s a case.”
“You do realize I know when you’re lying.”
“You must love hearing confessions and coaxing out more than they want to say.” Noah liked talking to David for the same reason, he could get though any amount of bullshit Noah had piled around. Excuses were no obstacle and David always called it as it was, even when things were bad.
“I was given a talent and I use it. It would be a shame for you to waste yours the way your father did.”
He couldn’t remember ever seeing his father happy. He was always cranky and rarely took pride in his children’s achievements, especially Noah’s. Looking back, Noah knew that was because his father was looking for signs of magic, even when he was playing baseball. He was a witch and he’d gone too far down that road to shut it down now. “I’m not quitting. I’m just not sure how to go forward.”
It had nearly killed him watching Louise die. But even now he couldn’t stand up to a demon and win. If it hadn’t been Louise, it would have been his next girlfriend. His ex had been cracked, he’d felt it and had made excuses to move on, and that’s when things had gotten strange and then deadly.
“How about you? Had any successful exorcisms?”
“No one wants them these days, even if they have a demon. Therapy is more gentle and just as effective.” David paused for a moment. “Not for this Cory fellow, though. I doubt he’s going to let his go.”
“That’s what I thought, but I want to talk to him and dig a little deeper into why. This is a chance for me to study a manifestation from quite early.”
“These are people, Noah. Not specimens for you to play with and test. Don’t forget that. And don’t forget that you are human and just as susceptible as anyone else. Maybe more so because you surround yourself with it by choice.”