Dark Magic, page 2
part #3 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
In response, her eyes flew to his face, then his body, right before she lurched back and turned guarded.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“A clan member. You must be a guest.”
“Mr. Master’s new accountant. That man attacked.”
Well, damn. That was the last thing he expected. He eyed her speculatively before nodding. It sounded so farfetched that he had no choice but to believe her for now, considering he knew just how bizarre Edmund’s decision-making could be sometimes. Before he could ask more questions, another sound exploded in front of them.
When he turned to look, more blood had come out, and he knew he couldn’t just stand back and do nothing.
There was movement just at the corner of his eye, and a quick glance determined it was Levi Stone, hurrying towards the scene. The healer shifter’s very tall figure rushed forward, brown eyes locking in on Ovie. Without a word, Levi nodded, stopping beside the short guest and making her jump again. Ovie nodded in return as he strode forward, claws already coming out but body remaining in man form.
Instead of leaping into the fight, he stopped a few steps away and watched them. The tiger was visibly larger than the panther, while the panther was sleeker in fur and more graceful. There were scratches under their furs now as their claws dug in on each other, but both were smart and evasive enough not to have skin torn off.
After a few more seconds of watching, it became evident that Leila was smarter, each of her movements calculated and precise compared to Malcolm’s more erratic attacks. That meant she got in more swipes, and that meant a more agitated Malcolm as he could only get a few in.
“Ovie…” Levi called out behind him, mostly a warning.
“No,” Ovie responded. “Not yet.”
If he came in between them, Malcolm would only consider it aggression, while Leila would consider it war. But if he didn’t…
A roar split the air, followed by Leila’s panther form being flattened to the ground. Sharp teeth descended close to her throat, ready to rip her skin there.
Ovie’s body went cold before he was moving into action. He jumped, shifting in mid-air and landing on the tiger’s back with such brute force, it jarred the beast down and flattened Leila further. Her panther hissed, trying to buck them off. Still in half-man form, Ovie yanked Malcolm off, ready to pin the beast down and lock it in place.
Before he could, Leila was scrambling forward and yanking Malcolm back, the force of her anger vibrating from her whole body. In a second, she already had Malcolm’s beast on his back and was straddling him while she shifted to her half-human form, private parts still covered.
Her claw dug into the tiger’s stomach, making blood spurt out. Malcolm coughed.
Ovie growled softly. “Leila…”
With a snap of head, dark eyes glared in his direction. “Don’t Leila me. I didn’t need the help.”
“You were ready to kill each other.”
“He was about to kill an innocent,” she snapped. “And Edmund would have had my head.”
It said a lot about their brother-sister relationship, and something inside him went out to her. He opened his mouth.
He snapped it shut at her next words.
“Not mention, I was wearing Gucci. Now it’s destroyed, do you know how expensive this little fight has been?”
Typical Leila. All about fashion and her needs.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have bought it in the first place,” he found himself saying, bracing when she stilled.
“I earn my keep around here,” she replied haughtily. Her British accent, usually very light, was distinctly heavy now.
“Leila…” He trailed off, watching Malcolm again.
“What?”
“He’s not himself. He probably didn’t mean to attack you.”
“I know that. I’m not an idiot.”
“You’re hurting him.”
The defense in her snapping eyes dulled, and she looked down to zone in on where her fingers had dug in deeper. Immediately, as if not realizing just how forceful she was being, she retracted her claws and visibly shrank back in horror. Then a second reaction, a cool look covering it instantly as she assessed Malcolm, who was slowly returning to his man form. There was a dull expression on his face, too, as if the fight had left him.
Leila cleared her throat.
“Mal—”
“Let me handle this,” Ovie cut in, already stepping forward and reaching a hand out. Malcolm took it and weakly hefted his weight up, then leaned on Ovie as if all the strength had left him.
Blood trickled from his stomach.
Leila’s jaw clenched, but her chin lifted in defiance. Despite the fight, there was no sweat nor visible blood on her, her face as picture-perfect as ever with her smooth olive tones, intense eyes, and full, sensual lips. The anger had dissipated, and now she was back to her cool, impenetrable self, looking down on everyone.
So fucking typical.
“Fine. Make sure he’s stitched up. I’m going to take a breather.” Those cold eyes turned to the other woman. “Come with me, Miss Rose, if you don’t want to get attacked again.”
The woman paled, then hurried to follow Leila while she stormed off. It was all Ovie could do not to follow her, wanting to give her a piece of his mind. But arguing with the clan leader’s headstrong, spoiled sister wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
So much for de-stressing.
The weight from his shoulders shifted, and he glanced at Levi, who took Malcolm’s other end.
“She shouldn’t have hurt him like this,” Ovie muttered under his breath.
“That’s my fault,” Levi said, voice filled with regret. “I thought he was asleep and didn’t think to have someone else watch while I got food. She was probably just protecting her brother’s client.”
“And getting mad over some fancy clothing,” Ovie returned.
“It was probably an investment.”
“A splurge.”
“You don’t like her much, do you?”
“Do you?” Ovie shot back.
Levi met the question with a shrug. “I like everyone here just fine.”
Which was relatively true, considering Levi was one of the rare clan members who never, ever had a fight with anyone around here. The man was a rare gem when it came to infamous shifter tempers.
Ovie kept the rest of his opinions about Leila to himself, focusing on Malcolm instead. Whether the guy listened to the conversation or not, he was being very quiet about it—a Malcolm contradiction, since the old Malcolm never kept his opinions to himself.
“Are you back to your normal self?” Ovie asked carefully.
“Define normal,” was the grunted response, tone laced with pain.
“Normal as in the yelling, raging Malcolm after his mission, who still has the common sense not to attack clan members and visitors on sight.”
For a moment, shame flared in the man’s eyes, quickly covered up with a blank look. It had guilt running up Ovie’s spine.
“She triggered a memory.”
“She?”
“Visitor.”
“What memory?”
“Unassuming creatures in the other realm. They act all innocent before they attack you and tear out your body parts.”
That almost stopped Ovie short, as he hadn’t heard that detail of Malcolm’s mission before. Over the guy’s slumped figure, Ovie and Levi exchanged glances.
“And you think the visitor is one of them?”
“Of course not. I’m not an idiot,” Malcolm snapped, sounding so much like Leila in his temper surge. “Like I said, it triggered a memory. Memories are different from reality, as I’m well aware.”
“Yet you tried to attack her.”
“Keep reminding me of my lack of self-control and I’m really going to lose it,” was the snarled warning. But it didn’t last long, followed immediately by a grunt of pain before Malcolm doubled over. Ready for it, Levi quietly hitched him higher, refusing to let him fall to the ground.
Ovie followed suit.
“Stop hovering over me. I’m a grown-ass man,” Malcolm complained.
“You sound like a child about to throw a fit,” Ovie said in observation.
“Perhaps you just need your wounds tended…”
“Stone, I swear, if you don’t stop with your healing mojo and shit, you’re going to be the next one to get attacked.” Taken aback at his own words, Malcolm cringed, then groaned. “Shit. I didn’t mean to attack Leila.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Levi agreed.
“But she can handle herself,” Ovie cut in firmly. “You destroyed her Gucci dress, and she destroyed your stomach. Not fair play.”
“Yes, because those fucking clothes cost a fortune. And my stomach’s fine. Don’t you dare take me back to my room. That fucking tiny space is driving me insane.”
“Alright, we’ll bite,” Ovie conceded. “Where do you want us to take you?”
“Somewhere with beer or any form of alcohol. I would say a club, except none of those assholes would let me enter in my state right now.”
True enough—especially since almost all humans still didn’t know about the supernatural world, except for those bloodthirsty hunters.
“There’s a liquor collection in the northern section of the mansion. It’s growing quite impressively, and it’s gotten to a staggering amount so I don’t think a few will be missed.”
The suggestion came from the least likely source they expected: Levi. They gaped at him, and he stared back.
“The boss’ collection?” Malcolm asked incredulously.
“No. Leila’s. She said I was welcome to it, but I haven’t quite gotten around to tasting…” Levi trailed off when they kept staring at him. “Is there something so wrong with what I was saying?”
Ovie raised a brow. “Well, no, except Leila doesn’t really share.”
“I really want a fucking drink right now,” Malcolm growled. He paused. “Leila’s probably going to kill me for hitting her collection after hitting her.”
“You didn’t hit her out of spite,” Levi reminded gently, ever the peacemaker. Some resolve seemed to come over him as his shoulders straightened and he gave a decisive nod. “Come on. It’s best to drink things like these out.”
And with that, the healer shifter strode forward and led the way with a limping but eager Malcolm in tow. Ovie watched their backs in disbelief.
Then he sighed and followed.
* * *
As far as liquor collections went, Leila’s was mind-boggling, ranging from the popular labels produced by big brands down to craft local fair.
They snuck to an empty room where Malcolm began to drown his troubles and didn’t stop until…well, until he stopped. By the time the man was drunk, Levi was slightly buzzed while Ovie was still fully functional, having skipped a few glasses when the two weren’t looking and feeling as restless as ever.
Two hours later, Malcolm stood up and swayed, nearly toppling to the ground had Ovie not caught on to his arm. The heavy weight had Ovie grunting, then giving Levi a pointed look.
“I’ll stitch him up now,” Levi declared.
“You’re drunk. Not a good idea.”
“I’m not blind drunk like he is. Besides, I have magic hands.”
The brag was said so smoothly that it made Ovie smile, right before he reluctantly assisted Levi in taking Malcolm back to his bedroom. Inside, they saw what they expected: bedsheets torn up and furniture askew, indicating the violence had started there before blowing up on Leila. Malcolm was muttering under his breath, words that flitted slowly in Ovie’s ears.
I didn’t mean it. She defended the woman.
I’m sorry.
I’m fucked up. Someone punish me.
No one did, as they deposited the drunk man to his bed, where he immediately started to snore. Blood stuck to his wounds, and Levi promptly left before returning with items for cleaning.
“Are you good here?” Ovie asked.
“Yes. I just need to disinfect, which he refused to let me do earlier.”
The glint in the man’s brown eyes made Ovie suspect that was probably the reason for getting Malcolm drunk, but he didn’t ask questions anymore. Instead, Ovie left the room, thoughts of Leila and how he’d railed on her making guilt return. Perhaps he could talk to her, see how she was doing.
Except Leila didn’t really ask for help. She handled things herself, kept things to herself.
She might be a spoiled brat, but she was a tough one. And a touchy one.
Best not to pet that kind of menace.
The restlessness simmered again, vibrating under his skin and making it crawl. With a quiet curse, Ovie changed direction and headed for the nearest pocket exit.
Chapter 3
“So, I have a couple of questions.”
Leila’s statement was met with a slow, charming smile—Edmund Masters’ signature smile, the face of aristocratic power. Of course, that came with a title of Lord, one he used so often to remind people he wasn’t someone to be messed with. She, in the meantime, only used it on the people she didn’t particularly like.
Like Sidney’s mother, for example, when the human woman had come into their lives pregnant with a very rare specimen: half-human and half-vampire, which was never a thing as vampires didn’t get people pregnant. But alas, there was Sidney, in her odd little form, defying nature and truths.
Leila tolerated Celine Peach now, and they were civil enough that Leila didn’t ask the woman to call her Lady anymore—or attempt to kill her. Sidney, of course, was a different story, because Leila found the kid cute.
And Leila would never harm a child.
“Hello to you, too, sister. I haven’t seen you around lately, and I’ve been meaning to ask how you’ve been doing.”
The barb was clear, distinct in his British accent, and indicating she hadn’t asked how he was doing. Also, a distraction tactic. Leila smirked and tilted her head, unfazed by her brother’s habits.
“I’ve been doing well, and so have you. You’ve hired an accountant, which means there must be finances that need attention at the moment. Now, tell me all about it. Did you invest in something I know nothing about? Did you win the lottery? Did you hit it big at the stock market? I need details, Edmund.”
She was met with another smile, then Edmund standing up from his cushy chair and striding towards her. Prepared to withstand his next distraction attempt and counter him with some more questioning, Leila lifted her chin.
She blinked when, instead of words, her older brother’s arms reached out to engulf her in a wide, warm hug. It was such comfort that she stilled, unable to say a thing. Her mouth dropped open, then closed immediately as suspicion rose.
“Your new tactic isn’t going to work on me, you know.”
At that, a laugh tinkered out of Edmund, as charming as he was. It was deep and fully male, lighting up his features and making that face deadly in its handsomeness—something he took advantage of, she was sure of it. She did the same, after all.
“I know, and I’d rather eat dirt than hug people other than my sister,” he said. “I’m hugging you because I have good news.”
“Good news?”
“I can’t tell you the details yet, but let’s say I found a goldmine—not a literal goldmine, but a mine that’s…slowly producing results and funds for our clan.”
There was something careful about the words, and her eyes narrowed.
“Is it illegal?”
“My dear sister, I already told you I would never venture in anything illegal. At least, not in human terms of illegal.”
“Edmund…”
“Relax. I’m handling it. In the meantime, I’m working on renovating the mansion, slowly but surely. That’s where our new employee comes in.”
“Because she’ll run through the budget?”
“She will, but we don’t need a budget. Mostly she’ll handle the rest of the money and find ways to invest it.”
The fact that there was free rein to the renovation and still extra cash had shock coursing through Leila’s system as she understood the full implication: Edmund didn’t just hit, he hit big.
“Does your new accountant know where you got the cash from? The details of it?”
He smirked. “She doesn’t, and I’d have to kill her if I tell her. You know how confidential things have to be around here, Leila. So don’t bother her with questions.”
Edmund’s tone was casual, but she had no doubt he would deliver on the threat. He always did. She’d once been witness to it, when they’d been having dinner with a diplomat. One minute, that diplomat and Edmund had been sharing a laugh while the former shared about the shifters he’d captured and turned into slaves.
The next minute, blood had been gushing out of the diplomat’s slit throat, then gutted stomach.
And Edmund had pleasantly kept eating the expensive meal with his elegant claws.
“I’m not going to be asking her questions related to this…fortune you’ve miraculously acquired,” she promised lightly. “Under two conditions.”
“Oh?”
Leila smiled brilliantly. “First, I get a portion of that transferred in my bank account for my clothing needs.”
“Clothing needs?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent.” She scoffed. “I’d say they’re for missions, but we both know I just love my fashion.”
“I can transfer a limited amount,” Edmund conceded.
She shrugged, inwardly delighted. “Limited is better than nothing. You know my bank account in New York.”
“I suppose I do,” he mused, sounding amused. “Normally I don’t entertain these kinds of deals, Leila, but I’ll play this time. What’s the second condition?”
“Tell me why you’d hire Nancy Rose from a convenience store owner, which I suspect was also her father. Did you kill him?”
Silence followed her question, and Leila realized her brother didn’t have a ready answer. But something dark sparked in his eyes before disappearing, replaced by a studied casualness.
“I didn’t. He was a lone shifter delivering goods for me, and he got murdered by some wild shifters in the vicinity. I was at the right place and time before they could murder her, and we cut a deal.”
