Curse It (A Peg Darrow Novel Book 1), page 13
I wandered serenely through my house toward the back door. Opening it, I found what eagerly awaited me, almost as eager as I was to see him. No, that was wrong. The chest, or what had Deval called it, a safe? It couldn’t be a he, it was an it, or was it?
For a moment confusion muddled my mind before the song pull me back under. I reached out to the glowing metal chest, and my hand passed through soft red light. Why was it glowing? Again the song lured me back where there was no need for reason. The lid, much lighter than before, opened easily, and the metal quivered under my hand in anticipation.
That anticipation transferred to me when I looked inside. Stairs, chiseled from rich stone, beckoned me forward. My mind hiccupped again, was it marble? Perhaps quartz? It surely didn't matter. The stairs invited me in, and it would be rude not to visit. Stepping over the chest’s edge, I descended into the cold dark unknown. My hand lifted to trace the rock wall that managed to be both jagged and smooth.
My body told me it was too cold in the depths we were exploring, but my mind was unwilling to leave. There was something, some part of the chest that needed me to see where the stairs led. Down I went, strangely not tripping on any of the steps. Time passed, it could have been a minute or an hour for the way time lost importance to me, the stairs ended. Before me lay a wasteland of cold rock and purple sky. It should’ve been ugly, but I never saw anything so beautiful. Unmindful of the tears streaming from my eyes, I wandered around my kingdom. An odd choice of word, but I shrugged the thought away, and continued walking until I came upon a large flat stone, light purple in color, with red and copper veining. Sudden exhaustion and cold hit.
Acknowledging the cold in some abstract part of my mind, translated to my body and every nerve ending rebelling to the frigid temperature. I needed to go back up to the heat. The stone invited me to rest before my journey back. It was a wonderful idea. I lay down, absently aware of the rock’s chill seeping into my bones. Unable to hold that realization close, I allowed the chill wind and the rock’s lullaby to entice my shivering body to sleep.
Scalding arms encircled my body, hurting my skin, and I cried out. Opening my eyes, I expected to see a fire demon laying claim to me. Only it was Deval, looking down at me with curiosity. "Hang in there, little witch." He pulled me close against his chest.
I wanted to fight, or at least ask him where we were, but exhaustion and cold kept me from doing either. Instead, I buried my face into his chest. The burning warmth from a moment ago was the only thing left to cling to as Deval began an upward climb. I needed to stay awake, but my body continued to betray me, and I fell back into unconsciousness.
My next waking moment was filled with needles stabbing deep, all over my body. Screams, raw and painful, ripped from my throat. I sounded like a tortured animal. Someone smoothed my hair, making shushing noises in my ear. Curling into fetal position, I realized I was in water. The disorientation receded until I recognized a chip in the ceramic of my bathtub. A feeling of security crept in, adding a sense of safety. I was in my own home. As the needles withdrew at an excruciatingly slow pace, I rocked. At some point the petting and sssshing stopped. Their absence made me realize the noises I was making had reduced to the occasional whimper.
The pain finally faded, and I felt a hand in the water by my feet. I would have kicked out, but my frightened mind recognized the brief touch as friend, not foe. A second later I heard the sound of the plug being pulled. Lifting my head, I found Deval kneeling next to my tub. I reached out and wrapped my hand around his wrist, needing to stop him. The cold settled deep in my bones, I needed the warmth of the water.
"I know you think I’m trying to take away the warmth, but this water is cold to the touch.” He held my gaze. “I simply mean to drain it and fill it again. I hope you have a good hot water heater." His last sentence was muttered, and I managed to release his wrist.
He had a point, the water was cold. Why was I just now realizing that? Had my body been that cold it would chill water in what must have been only minutes?
"If I was that cold, why am I not dead?" Speaking made my teeth chatter, and there was no stopping them now that they began.
"That is an interesting question. I have a better one. How did you enter the plane?"
Looking up from my unhealthily blue-tinged toes, I glared at him. I was cold, not stupid. I didn't like him trying to take advantage of my situation by getting his answers without answering any of mine.
He sighed. "Peg, I am not trying to blindside you." He reached into the tub to replace the stopper and turned the water back on. "This may hurt again, the cold has not left your bones and will not for a couple of days. I can answer your questions better, if you answer mine."
My mind warred against itself, the docile half begging me to tell him so we could get our answers. The stubborn half wanted to flip him the bird and gather a witch mob to burn him at the stake for trying to murder me. It wasn’t logical. He hadn't tried to murder me, had he?
No, that couldn't be the case, because he revived me. If he wanted me dead, he could have left me down in that death trap. Remembering the beauty, the sense of peace, I balked at the word. Reminding myself that beauty could be deceptive, the illusion cleared. I didn’t know what to think about the experience. My thoughts were all still too jumbled.
Deval sat down on my toilet and studied me. Apparently deciding I would answer his questions, he continued, "Did you find a spell to get into the plane?" His voice deceptively calm.
The hot water level crept back up, bringing both pain and soothing warmth.
"Of course not, like I would experiment on magical items worth seven figures that didn't belong to me. No sub job or bounty for a Fortune would give me the money I’d need to pay that back," I bit out. Pain and vulnerability brought forth my snark.
He gave me a small smile. "Well, Peg, you are going to get what you wish for, answers, but not tonight." He stood up and eyed me. "I will leave you to your bed. I will come back tomorrow."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. "Take as many hot baths as your water heater will allow. If your magic is able heat the water, continue even after that. The warmer you get tonight, the sooner this will pass. When you are finished, dress as warmly as you can. Take a shot of whiskey and sleep with an electric blanket, if you have one." After his instructions, he turned to leave.
"You're taking your death trap though, right?" I shivered pitifully in the tub.
He glanced back and gave me an odd smile. "No, witchy woman, it looks like the safe has chosen its mistress. While that might vex me, I know better to than to fight against these things."
I made a noise half way between a splutter and a squeak. I didn't need a magical box that wanted to kill me via hypothermia. Still, the idea of Deval taking the safe away both appealed and frightened me. The sound of the front door closing made his decision final.
Instead of dwelling on my recent inheritance, I focused on heating my body. Two hours later, after filling my bath twice more, the water came out cold. My aunt had put in a large water heater when it had been her home, praise the gods. My magic was oddly abundant, despite my near-death experience. I warmed the water twice more before I got out of the tub in search of some heavy-duty flannel pajamas.
Once in my room, I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging from the back of the closet door. Oh dear gods, the bulky white shirt bordering on matronly that I had worn to bed, now clung to my body like a second skin, showing every nook and cranny. Thank gods I put on yoga pants rather than my original inclination to sleep in my underwear.
Oy, every time I saw that man after hours, he caught me in an unintended state of undress. I'd probably light up like Rudolph's nose when I saw him next, since he could now describe my nipples in detail.
The violent shivers returned, removing Deval from my mind. I stripped out of the wet clothes and dried aggressively with a threadbare towel I hadn't gotten around to throwing away yet. The friction felt good, warming my skin slightly. Every time I began to feel warm, the chill flooded my body. Flannel pajamas my grandmother bought me a couple of Christmases ago were found at the back of a drawer. These were liberally layered over a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Three pairs of socks finished my look. I wished I owned a ski mask; even my nose was cold.
A plastic container under my bed held the electric blanket I knew I owned but didn’t remember buying. Once it was plugged in to warm up, I went to the thermostat in the hall. I cranked the heat up to levels I would normally avoid in deference to my electric bill.
Procuring a bottle of tequila from my kitchen, I didn't bother with a glass. Instead I took the whole bottle to my bed. I might need a warming nip later. Last stop of the night was at the front door to lock it and reassure myself the wards were in place.
Burrowed in bed, I took a swig from the bottle. Never in my life had I enjoyed the burn as much as I did now. That said something, since I was one of the rare breed who truly loved tequila. Between the burning dust scent of the rarely used electric blanket and the taste of tequila in my mouth, I worried I would have a hard time sleeping. I didn’t.
12
I awakened to the chattering of my own teeth. It was, if not the worst waking of my life, definitely in the top three. I considered closing my eyes and sleeping another hour, but I wanted answers and that Fortune check, so I could afford to go somewhere warm. Okay, that was an exaggeration. I would not be cashing in my check to go to the Bahamas. After tonight, I wanted the option to turn down dangerous assignments. I was starting to get an inkling I might not be cut out for my new job. Squashing the negativity, I sat up to an irritated meow from Cheddar, who kindly slept on my legs and acted as a portable space heater. He gave me an irritated look before scooting to another part of the bed and returning to sleep.
Standing up sucked because it meant I had to give up the warmth of the electric blanket. Grabbing the tequila bottle, I headed for the kitchen. If I managed to be murdered today, I didn't want my mother to come pack up my house only to find a bottle of booze on my nightstand. She’d lament that I had been a closeted alcoholic, and she should’ve gotten me help. Bottle safely tucked back in the cabinet, I went about preparing coffee.
While it brewed, I found the largest ceramic mug I owned. Normally, I would add cream and sugar to the heavenly mixture, but today I would be drinking the coffee for warmth rather than pleasure, so black it was. Cream would take away some of the heat, and I couldn’t have that. Even black, it was still coffee and not wheat grass juice. It could be worse.
While the coffee maker rumbled and hissed, I took the hottest shower of my life. My skin turned a lovely lobster red, bordering on scalded, but I still wasn’t warm. Wrapped in a thick robe, I went about finding appropriate clothing. In Arizona, the nights could get pretty low, but not low enough to warrant serious winter gear. I had to make do. The warmest clothes I had were what I called my camping gear.
Sturdy man-jeans that were the wrong wash and cut to be considered as anything close to fashionable. A bulky hoodie that was my takeaway from some long ago failed relationship. Appropriately layered with more yoga pants, various tank tops and t-shirts, and doubling up on the socks, I still had a definite chill going on, but it was bearable.
The clock on the nightstand read eleven, and my lunch date with Jessica was scheduled for noon. Throwing my hair up, I added a touch of makeup in an effort to not look like the frozen corpse I felt like. Having to forgo the giant ceramic mug, I left my house with a to-go cup of blessedly hot coffee.
Scottsdale made me feel self-conscious on the best of days. The area catered to the wealthy, more so than the surrounding cities. The women leaned toward Stepford, and the men were tan and wealthy, or at least faking it with credit cards and labels. My attire was entirely inappropriate for Jessica's restaurant choice, and the expression on her flawlessly executed face when the hostess escorted me to her table, indicated she was not thrilled to be seen with me in public.
Things went downhill from there. It didn’t help when she found out I already owned a house and wasn't interested in a vacation home in the White Mountains. Who was I kidding? I was very interested, just very unqualified to buy.
"If you don't want a house, what have you dragged me out here for?" Jessica flicked a strand of her immaculate blonde hair over her shoulder. She was rockin’ the business Barbie look: blonde, body toned and tanned with curves that may or may not have been purchased, and tight designer clothing.
"Sorry to mislead you. I'm a Fortune and your friend Violet has been murdered. I was hoping you'd have some insight into her history."
She didn't seem perturbed by news as she flagged down a waiter. In a tone that managed to be condescending and flirty all at once, she ordered a white wine spritzer. Looking to me she added, "Just so you know, if you want to talk, you're paying the bill."
Looking down at the menu, I stopped myself from visibly swallowing. Pammy told me the Benefactor would cover expenses, but I wasn’t sure that included twenty-dollar side salads. "No problem," I bit out.
She studied me briefly with a hard look, before a mask slipped over her face softening her features and adding a million-dollar smile. The Realtor persona came out. "So, what is it that you think I can tell you about Violet? Haven't seen her since college. She didn't even buy her house from me." She pouted.
"If you haven't seen her since college, how do you know she owns a house?"
"Oh, one of my old sorority sisters lives on her block. She was quite shocked when a witch moved into the neighborhood.” She leaned forward, framing her impressive cleavage. “Don't worry though, I told her she was harmless."
The derision in her tone made me say something I shouldn't, "It would be a mistake to think any witch harmless."
She stiffened slightly, the wariness in her face moving me from trash to a possibly useful subhuman. "I suppose you're right. Violet did come in handy a few times. I wouldn't have minded keeping our acquaintance intact, but she wasn't always very agreeable. She had quite the reputation."
"Oh?" I quirked an eyebrow, wondering what this woman would consider a bad reputation.
She leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial tone, "Let's just say, she liked the boys."
Who didn’t? "Is that really that unusual for college?"
She leaned back, frowning when I wasn't willing to slut-shame a woman who could no longer defend herself, even if defending herself wasn't necessary. "She was quite popular. Not many witches at ASU, thought she was hot stuff. Got a lot of attention before the boys realized she was just a slut."
At least she was no longer playing coy, and her prejudices were out on the table. "Did you stop being friends because you thought she was a slut, or because she was a witch?"
Jessica's gave a small shrug. "I'm not old fashioned. I like witches fine enough. I didn't like the reputation she was getting. When I told her, she wouldn't talk to me anymore."
I doubted it was that simple. This woman was the type to call someone out in the most humiliating way possible.
At that point the waiter returned. Jessica ordered a fifty-dollar plate of salmon, and I ordered a cup of soup and a hot tea. My teeth wanted to chatter, but since that would show something I wasn’t willing to show, I clenched my jaw. Not that Jessica could harm me, it was still better to avoid the impression of weakness.
"Do you know if Violet used her magic on any other students?" I tried for a casual tone, but Jessica’s gaze sharpened even as I detected a hint of quickly covered fear.
"Why do you ask?" she asked, fiddling with her napkin.
"Her death may have been curse-related. Know any old boyfriends who might have wanted revenge?"
Jessica waved her hand in the air as if to dismiss the notion. "Of course not. The boys always left her. It became a game of who could bag the witch." When she caught my look, she hastily added, "Violet was a willing participant. She had plenty of fun."
"But there's something you're not telling me." I sipped on the hot tea the waiter brought me. It was delicious and warmed me, if only briefly. Poor guy was going to be refilling my hot water often since I was planning on getting as much bang for my buck as possible with these prices.
We sat there, me sipping my tea and Jessica examining her perfect pink manicure for several minutes. I was in no rush, but she would tell me the big secret by the end of the meal, or so help me gods, I would follow her out to whatever ever luxury vehicle she currently leased and curse her myself, damn the consequences. I was about to tell her as much, when the waiter returned with our food. It bought Jessica a couple more minutes.
She seemed thrilled at the distraction and concentrated on eating her salmon. My soup wasn't bad, some sort of wild mushroom, though the portion was rather small. Thankfully it came with a slice of thick crusty bread, so I didn't feel too deprived after having eaten the whole thing in the time it took Jessica to make it halfway through her meal. Not wanting to stick around and give her the opportunity to order dessert, I flagged down the waiter and asked for the check. Jessica eyed me peevishly at being dessert-blocked. Yep, her plan to charge it to me, take one bite, and declare it too rich was all too easy to read.
"Jessica, what is that you don't want to tell me?"
"What do you mean?" She shoved another bite of salmon in her mouth.
"I mentioned curses, and you tensed up. Why? I'm not here to punish you for some petty issue you had with a dead woman." Though truth be told, I wanted to.
Putting down her fork, she stared at the table and mumbled something.
"What was that?"
"She cursed someone for me."
Oh, that was rich. "Who did she curse and why?" I kept my tone deceptively even.
"My college boyfriend, Ronnie. He cheated on me."
"So, she wasn't good enough to be friends with, but you'd let her take care of your dirty work for you?"
She didn't even have the grace to look chagrined. "Hey now, I was her friend," she said in an affronted tone.
