Curse It (A Peg Darrow Novel Book 1), page 17
I found a faculty email for him at ASU and sent a quick message, asking to meet. I didn't say what I wanted, hoping the ambiguous email would make him assume I was a student. I could fake wanting to buy a house, but faking enough knowledge about science to fool an academic was beyond my acting skills. When I met with him, I would be honest.
That done, I went to my room and grabbed the blood box Ivy gave me. I should have worked on unlocking it two days ago, but between the unexpected sub call, a night trip to the goblin plane, and making butt cream, I had been a little distracted. The sucker needed to be opened yesterday. I grabbed the box and headed out to BBTT morgue and lab.
BBTT Morgue and Lab didn't have any of Violet's blood available. However, they did have her toxicology screen back and the results from the aura sweep they’d done on the house. As I’d suspected, her blood came back positive for ingested opiates, not a surprise that the tea left in the cup also came back positive. The house was a wash. One of their employees, a woman named Susan, had run a trace and found only Violet, and a young girl, who I assumed was the missing Imogen.
She’d also made note that there were traces of other supernaturals coming and going but nothing within the forty-eight-hour time frame. I suspected that had she performed a trace instead of a sweep, she would have found the scrubbed traces as well but performing an aura trace of an entire house would have been tedious and not what we had agreed to. After they listed the death as homicide, they followed through with Dusty’s wishes and cremated her body. My visit had been a long shot anyway.
I had some ideas for my next steps. Up first, breaking into the blood box. With the time that passed since the murder, I didn’t want to waste any more. That meant going to see Pammy. I was prone to avoid her, even when I wasn’t under the effects of strange goblin magic and bundled up like someone on an expedition in Alaska. The cold had faded to more tolerable levels, I reminded myself that I would be miserable all summer in the Arizona heat, gritted my teeth, and carried on. I entered Bump and Grind in my new uniform of thick jeans, tall hiking boots, thick sweater, a scarf, and beanie for good measure.
Pammy was in her usual spot and raised an eyebrow at my appearance. Yep, you had to look pretty odd for Pammy to judge you. I sighed and headed over to get a mocha with the Blood Box held tightly under my arm. This time when I approached, her flock had flown. The same girl from the other day gave me the stink eye again. Huh, I wasn't trying to be Pammy's new lap dog, the girl needed to chill. I took a seat in one of the temporarily abandoned armchairs and set the Blood Box on the coffee table.
Pammy leaned forward to get a better look. "A gift for me, Peg? You shouldn't have."
"Ha ha. This was Violet's, and as I don't have any of her blood, I'm not sure how to open it. Do you know if her father's would work? I already tried getting some from BBTT, but the body has been cremated, and they didn't have any samples left."
"Dead blood wouldn't work anyway." She picked up the box and slowly turned it over.
Her answer didn’t shock me. I’d suspected as much. Nice to get a confirmation for once. A slight tingle went across the back of my neck, a telltale sign she was forcing some of her power into the box. The thorn snapped up and she promptly placed her index finger on it, pushing down, allowing her blood to cover it before pulling her finger back. She didn't even flinch. The thorn pulsed twice, before the blood sizzled off the thorn, magical steam rising.
"These boxes can have multiple people keyed to them, but it wouldn't have rejected me so quickly, if it had more than one master. I'd say the drive out to Tucson wouldn't be worth your time."
I nodded in agreement. Usually I enjoyed road trips, but there were too many balls in the air. I'd rather skip the trip, even if it meant forgoing asking my mom about possible goblin relatives face to face.
"Where'd you get the box? Did you search Violet's house again?"
"Nope, I got it when I went to see Dusty a couple of days ago."
She gave me a little glare. "And you're just now trying to bust it open?"
"I've been following other leads." I explained Jessica, Ronnie and the apparent agoraphobic T.A. I left out the part about the safe and possible goblin heritage, because I wasn't supposed to talk about it. Besides, Pammy would find some way to use my newly found heritage.
Her glare faded, my discoveries so far must have met the minimum requirements. "Hmmm, you're doing pretty good, baby girl. Though this is taking longer than I hoped."
"Me too, but you can't rush progress," I replied, knowing Pammy wouldn't agree.
"You can, and you will. What you need to do with this box is hack it."
"Is that an ancient witch term?" I barely kept the sarcasm out of my voice.
She acted as if I hadn't bothered to try. "No, smart-ass, it's a word your young ass will understand. Every day you need to force your magic into it and prick your finger on it. Depending about how much magic she used when creating the lock, it will eventually rewrite its magic to switch over to you. You've got plenty of power to force into it."
Well that sounded unpleasant, and not just the part about stabbing myself on a thorn every day. Power was not endless, and with my luck lately, I wanted to hoard as much as possible. There wasn’t a question of what else could go wrong, it was when would the shit really hit the fan. "Okay Pammy, thanks for the info."
Standing, I grabbed the box, deciding to dismiss myself before she had the chance. Checking to make sure the thorn was retracted, I tucked it under my arm again. Throwing my purse over my shoulder, I was halfway to the door before she called after me.
"I know you're hiding something, sugar, better not let it interfere in your duties." Her voice boomed through the room and the displaced lackey smirked at me.
I bared my teeth at her, and she swallowed. I turned back to Pammy. "It won't." I continued toward the door. It was a half lie. I might have acknowledged I was hiding something, but hell if I knew whether it would interfere. It wasn’t her business. I respected her, but not enough to put my trust in her keeping my secrets. She would always look out for number one, and trading in secrets was part of her job. I didn't feel even a twinge of guilt as I climbed into my Jeep.
The first thing I did when I got home was check my email. No response from the T.A. I hadn't expected one because the notification would’ve pinged through on my phone. Still, I checked my Spam folder to be sure. No dice. Well, since there was nothing better to do, I decided to force some of my power into Violet's Blood Box. I hadn't performed any aggressive magic today, so the power I channeled into the box came easy. After five minutes I stopped and looked at the thorn with apprehension. Pammy had no issue placing her finger on the sharp point.
I placed my finger on it, swallowing, my mouth dry. The anticipation of pain was always worse than the actuality. Biting my lip, I took the plunge and shoved my finger down. I pulled my hand back almost immediately. My blood pulsed on the thorn twice, before sizzling off. If my power levels stayed high, I would try again later.
Pammy was right, I should have asked about it two days ago when I first retrieved the stupid thing, then it might already be open. Oh well, couldn't change the past. I placed the box securely in the back of my closet before impatiently checking my email again. Still nothing. I considered babying the safe again, when my cell started ringing. It was Bruce. "Hey, good looking."
"Well, honey, I'm glad you're not here to see me blush." I responded to his flirty tone.
"Mmhmm. What are you up to today, or do you need me to take your grandma to another appointment?"
"That wounds me, Peg. I don't just call you to ask favors. That's your M.O. If I didn't have a truck, I don't think you'd ever call me."
"Not true, if you didn't have shifter strength to go along with that truck, I'd never call you. I can always rent a truck, but I'd need four regular guys to lift what you can with one hand."
"Right to the heart, and here I was going to ask you out dancing."
"Let me guess, I should invite Lola along?"
"She also enjoys dancing, I thought we could make a night of it."
The three of us did have fun together, but he often used me as the go between. "Why don't you ask her out already."
"We’ve agreed to be friends. I like her company, yours, too. Are you available tonight, or are you gonna be sleuthing?"
"I'm not Trixie Belden. I investigate," I responded primly.
“Who’s Trixie Belden?”
I sighed. “Nancy Drew’s less appreciated counterpart.”
"Uh huh, you wanna go dancing or what?"
I looked at my laptop again. Still no response. I was kind of at an impasse until I heard from Grant. If he didn't get back to me by the morning, I could always go hunt him down. In the meantime, the only things to do at home was feed the two boxes. One needed attention, the other power and blood. I was the crazy box lady. Yep, I needed to go out. "What time were you thinking?"
14
Lola came over to my house to get ready, so Bruce could pick us up in one go. I hadn't bothered asking where he was taking us. He was a country boy, so it would be some sort of country bar which was fine by me because country bars didn't judge you if you didn't wear heels. Lola and I dudded ourselves out in jeans, fitted plaid shirts, and boots. Then we both did pageant hair. Lola's process consisted of hot rollers, teasing, and hair spray. My already curly-do only needed me to flip my head over and spray heavy-duty hair spray before letting it dry. By the time our hair was done, our new motto could be “the higher the hair, the closer to the Lord.” I didn't know about the Lord part.
By the time that we arrived at Denim and Diamonds, we were ready to drink beer and two-step the night away. It was one of the nicer country bars. Even knowing it would be a country bar tonight, the question was whether it would be a dive, a honky tonk, or something a bit more fancy. It felt good to let off some steam. We danced, drank beer from mason jars, and since I wasn’t driving, I accepted the tequila shots Bruce presented to me.
By ten, Lola and I were bundled up in the back seat of Bruce’s truck singing some Dolly along to the radio with terrible pitch while Bruce laughed in the front, playing our chauffer. I was dropped off first. I walked up to my door still humming and let myself in.
The unexpected dread took a moment to penetrate my intoxicated mind. Barely in the foyer, I froze, inching around until I could place my hand on my front door to touch my wards. According to them nothing was wrong, no one had tampered with them. I shook my head, wondering if I was being silly and continued back to my bedroom. Once there, I stopped, turned and studied the darkened spaces of my home. My skin was crawling, I couldn't get over the feeling of being watched.
Pushing out my magic, I tried to pinpoint what was out of place. Everything seemed normal, nothing was there. It took a moment for that to filter through. Nothing was there, just like the “nothing” when I searched for the aura on the poppy and inside the safe. That nothing stood to the left of my doorway. My heart raced, fear sobering me. I needed to get out of the room before whatever was watching attacked.
I dropped my gaze not wanting to let whatever it was catch on that I knew it was there. I forced my shoulders into a casual shrug, as if to say “Well, I guess that was nothing” and started walking toward my door. To keep up the ruse, I called out, "Cheddar, it's dinner time."
Whatever was there let me pass. That ruled out a vampire or a shifter. They would hear the staccato of my heart. I walked calmly down the hall finding it difficult not to turn back and check behind me. My gut screamed it was there, but my need to get to the door kept me moving. This was the second time in a week I needed to flee my home. The first time had been a race and exhilarating. This slow exit was excruciating, every part of my being wanted to turn and attack, but with no idea what was lurking, I didn’t know what I was fighting. This may be the only chance you get to catch this thing, doubt whispered to me. On my shoulder, logic told me not to fight something I had no knowledge of.
When I got to the end of the hall, my choice was taken away. Cheddar trotted up, obviously responding to my earlier declaration that it was dinnertime. He stopped dead in his tracks, his focus behind me. His fur bristled as he went to his toes, hissing and spitting at whatever was behind me. I ran, but a hard shove from behind sent me to the floor. The ceramic tiles bruised my knees. Before I could react, a hand in my hair yanked me backwards. My hands flew to my scalp, trying to pry the fingers lose, but they didn’t budge.
Whatever attacked me didn't have supernatural strength. It still hurt, but I didn't think I'd be scalped. I dropped my hands, let myself be pulled back, so I could get in range. I rammed my elbow back. It hit what felt like a thigh, and I heard a masculine grunt. On the second try, I aimed a bit more center. The hold on my hair disappeared, and I heard a terse "Fuck," behind me.
Scrambling to my feet, I started toward the front door. A hand grabbed wrapped around my elbow digging in and using my forward momentum to change my direction to the kitchen. My hip hit the corner of the entryway. Sharp pains shot down my leg. I gasped and tried to right myself, but that damn hand was back in my hair again. This time he wasn't trying to hold me back. He pushed, causing my injured leg to shriek in protest, before I hit the floor. I rolled to my side, trying to get up and figure out where the attack was coming from. A swift kick landed in my stomach.
Power raced to my hands, and in desperation, I blindly threw my power out. I heard glass break but didn't hear any telltale grunts. I tried to sit up when another kick whipped across my lower back. Crying out, I curled into fetal position, helplessness rising. How do I target a faceless enemy? Suddenly an angry feline yowl filled the air, and fur brushed against my arm. I uncovered my face in time to see Cheddar flying over me, claws extended. He clawed into my faceless attacker as the man cursed. The raging ball of fur appeared to be doing some shredding. Blood hit the floor.
With a possible target, I thrust my power out again, careful to avoid my magnificent attack cat. The large surge had no effect. How could a cat's claws hurt someone, but not my magic? I stared dumbfounded. Cheddar suddenly flew across the room, hitting the counter. He let out a small pained yowl and retreated to the living room. I wanted to go and protect my baby, but I couldn’t even protect myself at the moment. The invisible attacker was between me and my front door. With limited choices, I turned and ran through the Arizona Room, aiming for the back door, sending up a prayer that my kitty was in one of his hiding spots until I could get to him.
I made it onto the enclosed porch before being knocked forward again. This time, I landed on top of my safe. Its power rushed out, trying to connect. Belly down on top of the safe gave me an idea. It was the perfect position. I mule kicked as hard as I could, ignoring the protest of my aching hip. My foot made solid contact, and a pained inhale sounded. With no idea if he fell or was catching his breath, I pushed into a crouch and opened the lid before scrambling inside the safe.
Behind me, a man laughed manically. "Eager to die the same as Violet, bitch?"
The joke was on him. The arrogant ass made no effort to stop me. Probably believing I'd suffocate like Violet. Two days ago, he'd have been right. Not tonight though. As soon as I was in the safe, the bottom turned into stairs. I tumbled down a few feet, my body protesting at its continued assault before I was able to stop and gingerly stand up. Everything hurt. I carefully took another step down into the darkness, not sure if the tumble would hurt worse than the pain shooting through my hip with every step down. For a moment, the darkness lifted. Hand against the stone wall, I looked back up over my shoulder. The ceiling of my enclosed porch stretched above the open safe.
"What the fuck? Listen you fucking witch trash, I don't know where you went, but I will find you.”
Okay, my invisible attacker couldn’t see me either. I held my breath and waited, afraid to move and change that fact.
“I'm going to kill you and your fucking familiar too. You bitches will rue the day you thought you could break me with your curses!" With that, the lid slammed shut, and the stairway became dark again.
Did he really say “rue the day?” I shook my head. I bit my lip when I thought about Cheddar, hating I couldn’t help him. I sent up another prayer he would go to one of his hiding spots, trying to remind myself how even I couldn't find Cheddar without magic sometimes. With nothing left to do, I started the long descent to my newly acquired plane. Hopefully I made the right choice. I didn’t know what would be worse, being murdered in my home where it was warm, or dying in a frigid barren plane that wanted to claim me as its own. If I did die down here, it would be a very permanent claiming.
I debated staying close to the door in case I needed to exit the plane quickly but decided against it and continued down. I hated to admit it was out of fear of the man or thing that attacked me. The feeling of helplessness was a new sensation. Even when a vampire attacked me as a child, I hadn’t been so helpless. Of course, I could see the vampire, and my parents had immediately come to fight for me. It warmed my heart that Cheddar tried to protect me, but it also made me feel more worthless.
The trek down the stone steps was considerably more difficult when you were lucid and injured. Deval mentioned the plane would bond with me. As I continued my hobbled descent, I hoped it meant the plane might calm down on the arctic weather in an effort not to kill its mistress. The cold didn’t seem as horrible as before, but it wasn’t a balmy summer day either. Thankfully my jeans, boots, and plaid shirt offered some barrier.
I stepped off the final stair. The rocky dirt crunched under my boots. The bluish-purple mountain and rocks surrounding me were less stark this visit and somehow more alive. More pink than last time. My mind might be playing tricks, considering the last time I was borderline unconscious. Finding the long flat rock, I vaguely remembered lying on before. I chose not to lie down this time. Too much of a risk. I wasn’t cold yet and hoped it wasn’t the adrenaline giving me a false sense of reality.
