Curse It (A Peg Darrow Novel Book 1), page 23
"It's your plane. I can only enter because you allow me to. You must think of me as some sort of protector."
His words struck home, but I didn't want him to know that. I closed the front door and pointed to the kitchen and proceeded to follow him into the room. "More like the bane of my existence."
"The lady doth protest too much."
"Personal friend of yours?" I asked.
"How old do you think I am?"
"Old enough you should probably feel like a creeper for ogling me in my pajamas."
He stared me down. "I do not ogle."
I swatted a hand in the air. "The gentleman doth protest too much."
"I appreciate. Sleeping garments have evolved in my lifetime, and I appreciate that modesty is no longer a prerequisite for a woman's value."
"Of course you do."
"I was raised by a strong female figure. Had she been human, she would have had a wasted life a century ago."
"That's a pretty strong statement. Is motherhood really such a waste of a life?"
"That is not what I said."
I began gathering the tools needed for the spell, taking care to set Violet's remains on a safe spot on the counter. I waved Deval to take a seat at the bar. "Explain what you meant."
"Every woman has different dreams and skills. My mother is an excellent one because she is fulfilled by her duties. Her intelligence, cunning, and diplomacy are her best talents. If she had to stifle them, she would not have been as happy. That would have reflected in my upbringing. There are other women who are complete nurturers and being a stay at home mother would not stymie their life purpose. Still, I would think that it is better to have the choice than not. Luckily, we supernaturals have never been forced to follow their lead."
"Speak for yourself." I added water and herbs to my pot, carefully following the Alice’s instructions.
"You'll rise again. The powerful can never stay culled."
He said it with such strong conviction I looked up from my pot and met his gaze. They were liquid steel. He meant it. "And here I thought you pegged us for the weak ones, but after four hundred years, I'm not sure that your view is a realistic one."
He shrugged. "Don't give up, or I will think that you're the weak ones. Pammy certainly hasn't given up. She carries herself like queen."
"Caught that, did you?" I studied the recipe while we spoke, measuring every ingredient carefully as I added them to the pot.
"It's her right. She cares for this area, even if it's as a mob boss. She just found the most efficient way to care for her people."
I looked up from the card. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. It seems odd that she has taken the position without anyone's go ahead."
"You have all given her your permission by not opposing her and being unwilling to do the job yourselves. I didn't see anyone else drive up to Utah to kill the vampires who killed your governing body there."
I glared at him. "To be fair, I think I was sixteen at the time."
"You are not the only witch in area. Pammy will risk her life to see that the population is taken care of. She's a bit of an egotist, which she displays with her minions. She doesn't make the choices I would, but I can't fault the woman for taking care of problems that no one else will."
Damn, he was observant if he knew about Pammy's fan club. I had mixed feelings about Pammy as a leader mainly because I was still getting to know her, but he was right; I wouldn't have gone to Utah. Though I’d like to think that once I educated myself and had more experience as a Fortune, I would have. "You're right. I'm not sure if I'd be willing. I don't think I could take out Fane, let alone an entire nest."
Deval let out a harsh laugh. "You do realize that Fane is so old, he's bordering on an ancient?"
I dropped the wooden spoon I was using to stir my mixture. "Are you serious?"
“He approaches a millennium, there is a reason not many could take him. My mother could, and with the recent revelation of your heritage, you may even qualify for her protection. Did you ever ask your family about any mysterious distant relatives?"
"Nope, I've been meaning to, if nothing else for curiosity's sake, but I wouldn't ask for protection."
"Why not?" He sounded baffled.
I picked up the dropped wooden spoon and gave the pot another quick stir before setting the spoon down, gently this time, and placing the lid on the pot and reduced the heat. The herbs needed to simmer for ten minutes. I turned to him. "It would feel like I was turning my back on the community that raised me, my heritage."
"That's ridiculous. Technically speaking, goblins are also your heritage."
"So we suspect. I still need to check on that."
"There would be no other way for you to claim a plane. Enter, yes, if you used strong magic, though the stories I have heard have all said that it took the trespassers years of preparation for even the one visit."
"Okay, I'm part goblin, but until a week ago I didn't know that. You guys wouldn't even let me have a sleepover with my friend because I was an outsider."
"We are protective of our community."
"As you should be, you guys have a good thing going, but I don't belong with your people. It would be wrong to except protection from the goblins, when I feel no loyalty to you."
"You may change your mind."
I nodded. "I might. You know, I've always hated the phrase ‘waffler.’ It came up in an election a few years ago."
"Huh?" His brows drew together.
"It was a big deal because a candidate changed his position on some issues. Here's the thing though, I think it's worse to keep a death grip on your policies. People should evolve and new knowledge that contradicts your previous beliefs should make you change them. There's nothing wrong with learning. I can't respect people who are adamant that they will never change their mind. I prefer when people have closely held beliefs but believe there is a possibility they may be wrong and if given more knowledge, admit it."
"You may not be as naive as I thought you were, which makes me surprised you aren't taking me up on my offer. In your current position, you could use all the protection you can get."
He leaned forward in his seat. "You're not wrong, but I'm not sure if mixed loyalties would be a good look on a Fortune. Pammy might not even accept it."
"What Pammy doesn't know, won't hurt her."
"Pammy would find out eventually, she trades in secrets as well as bounties, and when she did, things would be worse because I didn't tell her. I'm not even sure if I want to tell her anything. It’s not like I could tell her about the plane anyway, without you guys killing me."
"Since we're being honest, that is a possibility. Though I would be incredibly surprised if Pammy did not already know."
"Why the secrecy?"
"Pammy is smart enough to keep her mouth closed. We only kill the stupid."
It sounded like a joke, but he was dead serious. I made a lot of stupid mistakes; not claiming my goblin heritage was probably for the best. "I'd be dead within a month."
His eyebrows drew together. "Are you calling yourself stupid?"
"Nope, but I’ve been known to learn via mistakes. If a mistake equals death, I'll be totally screwed."
"I think you're overanalyzing this. People die from mistakes every day, regardless of intelligence; it's a willful stupidity when a people believe they can outsmart the law."
"No one can beat the law and topple the queen?"
"I would suggest you did not repeat that sentiment, and yes they can, but if they are smart enough to do it, then they deserve to lead."
"Many people vying for the throne these days?"
"You haven't met my family." He shook his head as though he was surprised he’d said that.
"This is one of those times that a smart person would ignore your last comment, right?"
"That would be wise." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
The timer on the microwave went rang, and I turned to turn it off. "Would you mind going over to sit at the far side of the table?" I turned back to him and pointing to the chair at the far side of the kitchen. He quirked an eyebrow but dutifully rose and walked over to the chair, settling in with his legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, and his arms folded on his chest.
Huh, he could do what I asked without arguing. Who'd have thunk it. The stare he gave me, however, implied he wanted an explanation. I'd started to grow used to his looks now. A week ago it might have made me want to pee my pants, so win for me. "I want to be in your eyesight while I power the spell because I will be too preoccupied to scan for the empty soul that is the murdering T.A."
"And I need to be over here why?"
"State secrets," I answered smartly. I didn't feel like sharing witch spells with a goblin. Besides the natural resistance to witch magic would allow him not to be harmed by the power I was using. It would probably make his skin itch, though, and since he was being nice, I didn't feel the need to make him uncomfortable.
He laughed, apparently amused by my answer and returning to his usual smug self. "Proceed then, witch."
Right, like it was his idea. Taking Violet's ashes, I poured half of them into the simmering mixture on the stove. I whispered a command to the mixture, and it began to stir itself. While it stirred, I moved my face into the steam of potion and waved it closer with my hands, inhaling until my lungs were uncomfortably full. I held my breath and the magic, focusing on my power, letting it infuse the steam. Traces of Violet's magic fused with my own. Startled, I almost let the steam out before it was ready. Something to ask Alice about later.
Re-focusing, I held the steam in, feeding it my power, wrapping it around the already spelled essence. A minute in, when pricks of light stabbed at my vision, I forced the spelled steam from my lungs into the potion whispering, "Ex propositoque" with the last of my breath. I took in a deep breath as the spell’s power flowed across the kitchen like a blast, tickling my skin and invading my senses. A burst of blood-red steam erupted from the potion. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing but hoped it boded well for my first necromancy spell.
Turning off the stove’s heat, I needed to let it cool before putting it in the thin glass jars I used for defensive potions. They broke more easily when being thrown at an enemy, but they also broke when scalding liquid was poured in them.
I walked over to the table on shaky legs but made the effort to sit in the chair like my legs weren’t spaghetti. Deval uncrossed his ankles and sat forward, studying me. His predatory look made me glad I’d put in the effort to not look like prey.
"Again you surprise me," he said.
It took effort to not just lay my head on the table for a nap let alone play verbal acrobatics with a goblin, but when you invited help, you invited questions. "What was it this time? That I can hold my breath for a full minute?" I leaned back in my chair, trying to appear flippant.
"No, I keep thinking I have figured out your power level, and then you do some other powerful thing. I think in a year, you would be willing to go to Utah to go toe to toe with a vampire clan."
A shaky laugh escaped. Little did he know, I was always a powerhouse, but the plane he accidentally gifted me with increased my potential. "Well, thank you, I think."
"You need to learn to take a compliment."
I said nothing for a moment, letting the silence stretch before us.
He broke it first. "Are you still feeling the cold?" He said it casually, but it seemed like a test.
I did a full body check before answering, "No, the cold is gone. If you could gift me with another plane in July, I might even thank you for it."
"You should thank me for the one I already gifted you." He smiled.
I think I passed the test. "Perhaps one day I will."
"I look forward to that." He took my hand, and his eyes met mine. His crinkled in the corner and may have even held a spark of affection.
Unsure if it was the type of affection someone paid a younger sister or something more, I felt heat rising to my cheeks. Next would come the nervous sweat. I hastily pulled my hand away. "Can I get you some iced tea?"
Just like that, the affection disappeared, and his eyes became shuttered. "That would be nice. I had begun to think that you had no skills as a hostess."
My laugh was forced, but it broke the tension. "Yeah, my house is more self-service." I stood and hastened over to where the potion was cooling and after stirring it a few times, decided it was ready to go into its containers. First, the prince’s beverage. I took out two large tumblers and filled them to the brim with ice before pulling the pitcher of Earl Grey out of the fridge. "It's unsweetened, but I can get some sugar if you prefer it sweet."
"Sweet is overrated."
The double meaning made me a nervous as I handed him his glass. Thank the gods I didn't drop it in his lap. He took it with a small smile, and I turned back to pour the potion. The small bottles made it necessary to use a funnel. I concentrated on filling them, not bothering to make small talk. The only noise was the ice cubes hitting the plastic of the glass while Deval drank his tea. Five minutes later, I had five full bottles.
I spilled a few drops. I glared at the liquid. The amount of my essence poured into the potion was a lot of work. I shook it off.
"Need a refill?” I turned back to Deval. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, his phone started chirping a generic ring tone. He probably disapproved of my customized ring tones.
He grunted before answering his phone with a curt, "Yes." The chill he delivered with that one word made me glad I wasn't on the other end of that phone call.
The pitcher was still on the counter, and I grabbed it to refill his tea, but he held up his hand rejecting the offer. "I'll be right there. If you have allowed this to happen on your watch, you better be prepared to suffer the consequences." His voice was so low I could barely make out his words. He ended the call and stood abruptly. "Get your purse."
"Huh, why?"
"I need to drop you off with another male. I have to go."
"You don't have to drop me off, let me grab my potions. I'm perfectly capable of driving myself somewhere else. If you could just walk me to my Jeep and verify that no cursed men are hiding in the backseat."
He nodded, obviously distracted by his phone call. I rushed to grab my purse and wrap my potion bottles in a kitchen towel before carefully placing them in my purse. He hurried me out the door and did a thorough check of my Jeep before holding the door open for me. "Go straight to a man."
"If this was any other situation, this would be the time I would tell you to go fuck yourself."
He grinned. "I hope that you would." With that he closed my door.
I started my Jeep and watched him start his own SUV from my rearview mirror. He pulled out of the driveway with a controlled recklessness.
Alone, I felt exposed. Following his lead, I pulled out of my driveway one handed, fishing in my purse for my phone to call Bruce. I found it because it started to go off with Fleetwood Mac's “You Can Go Your Own Way,” Alice's newly programmed ring tone.
My hand hit pay dirt, and I pulled it out. "Hey, Alice, I just finished the potion. Fingers crossed it will break the curse."
"It better, bitch, if you want this abomination to live."
19
Cold washed down my spine. I recognized the voice from the attacks.
"What do you want, Grant?"
"I hope for her sake that your little bodyguard is gone."
"And if he's not?"
"I'll slit her throat right now." A muffled cry sounded through the phone.
"There's no need for that. He's gone. I don't think he'll like that you called him little or my bodyguard." I tried the Lola name drop.
A grunt sounded through the phone followed by a scream. "Still feeling brave, bitch?"
I cringed. I wanted to say yes, but I wasn't at his mercy, and Alice hadn't asked to be brought into this. "What do you want?"
"Come to the church, alone. Your spell better work, or you're going to wish you had never been born." He hung up.
In a daze, I stared at my phone for a moment before a honk rudely reminded me I had stopped at a stop sign to take the call. They screeched around me, flipping me off for their trouble, and I didn’t care. I needed to save Alice, but I was very aware Grant planned on killing us both once I arrived. The sense of impending doom lingered, but I pulled the Jeep over a couple of feet hoping to avoid other angry drivers. My fingers shook as I scrolled through my recent calls. I hit send, calling Deval. He didn't answer the first, second or third time. "Deval, I don't know what you're doing, but your thief is holding Alice hostage. You need to meet me at the First Baptist Church in Phoenix."
I didn't have the time to sit on the corner. I pulled into traffic, calling Bruce, Deval and Pammy on a repeat cycle. No one answered. Before I knew it, I pulled on to the street the church stood on. I was on my own. Oddly, I realized the only thing in my favor was if the potion worked, which was exactly what the murderer wanted. If the curse lifted, Grant would be susceptible to my magic, and I’d be able to see him. Alice made no guarantees about the potion, I didn’t have a ton of hope, but I clung to what I could.
I reached for my power. Despite being depleted an hour ago, I had a decent reserve. If I’d had any idea I would be going into battle, I would have made Deval come into the plane and ask him about decorating tips, just to recharge my batteries. At least I still retained some juice. I needed to throw the potion on Grant, and when it worked, subdue him. That was my grand plan. Nothing fancy, hopefully it worked because plans B, C, and D hadn't answered their phones. Unwilling to announce my arrival, I parked down the block. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.
The walk to the ruin was the longest of my life. I counted out the steps, a nervous habit I’d picked up years ago. One hundred and fifty-two brisk strides later, I passed through Alice's wards. What was the proper hostage situation etiquette? If I were visiting, I would knock. If I were some military commando, I’d scale a wall or rappel in, breaking a window with flying glass surrounding me in a hail of badassery.
