“How exciting.” Mrs. Malone clasped her hands. “It’s just like on TV.”
“We will protect your identities if you cooperate with us,” Asa told her husband. “You have my word.”
The old man flipped the card over his fingers. “And if I don’t cooperate?”
Based on their initial reactions, I got the feeling the warning would hit harder coming from me.
“Then we dig into your wife’s background and take a look at missing persons cases in the area.” I let him see I meant every word. “We don’t go out of our way to make trouble for folks who fly under the radar.” I patted my pocket, where my wand resided. “Black Hat doesn’t have to know about your wife, or you.”
“I want a truth binding,” he growled. “Give me that, and I’ll cooperate.”
Clay opened his mouth, ready to argue, but I didn’t mind bleeding. “Done.”
Behind me, Asa rumbled the faintest growl, but he didn’t say a word. Smart move. He couldn’t stop me.
The binding was a simple exchange of vows and blood, and it took all of five minutes.
Unfortunately for me, it drained every ounce of energy I had remaining to walk out of that trailer. Yet again, I had underestimated the cost of active magic versus the passive magic I used in the store at home would charge me. But given how protective Mr. Malone was of his missus, I wasn’t about to show weakness in front of predators of that caliber.
Back in the SUV, I melted into my seat and shut my eyes. “I hate putting the screws to people.”
“But you’re so good at it,” Clay teased to brighten my mood. “He’s an asset, and you secured his cooperation. The rest is the cost of doing business.”
“I know, I know.” I massaged my temples. “Toeing the company line and all that.”
“So, Mrs. Malone.” The SUV rocked as Clay settled in the back. “What’s up with her?”
“She’s a dragon.” Asa didn’t hesitate in his assessment. “Her powers are bound. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have stopped with self-immolation. She would have transformed and, most likely, eaten us to protect herself and her mate.”
“I was thinking phoenix,” I admitted, “but those cookies…”
“Dragons eat people,” he said simply. “Phoenixes do not.”
“She was going to feed us people cookies?” Clay made a gagging noise. “That’s so…wrong.”
“They were crying.” I remembered that now. “How is that possible?”
“Dragons have strange magic. I knew a dragon, years ago, who spelled his steaks to moo when he cut into them. It was quite the party trick when he invited guests over for a cookout.”
“Are you telling me,” I asked calmly, “she spelled her cookies to cry as she ate them?”
“As I said.” Asa rubbed his thumb on the steering wheel. “Strange magic.”
“Sounds more like strange, period,” Clay grumbled, still miffed. “People cookies.”
Unable to help myself, I teased, “People put bacon in cookies. That’s meat.”
“Chocolate, nuts, caramel, fruit—those belong in cookies.”
Sadly, as funny as it was to wind up Clay, his rant worsened my blossoming headache.
“We can go back to the hotel,” Asa offered, noticing my discomfort, “pick this up again tomorrow.”
Mid-diatribe, Clay snapped his mouth shut and shifted his focus from baked goods abuse onto me.
“The next suspect is only about thirty minutes away.” I flipped a hand. “Might as well hit him too.”
“Asa and I can handle this one alone.” Clay patted my head. “You can stay put.”
“Maybe.” An outright refusal would only spark an argument. “I’ll think about it.”
Thinking turned into another blasted nap that left me waking up alone in the SUV.
I had good reasons for giving up black magic, and it hadn’t mattered at home, but in the field?
For a minute, I was sorely tempted to fall back on old habits to keep up with my teammates.
And, if I was being truthful, to feed the monster chained in the basement of my mind.
Only the knowledge I had to look Colby in the eye when I got home kept me honest.
I’m a white witch. I’m a white witch. I’m a white witch.
Not wanting to interrupt any rapport the guys might have established with the suspect, I checked emails and otherwise entertained myself while staying put. But thirty dull minutes later, when they still weren’t back, I considered stretching my legs for a quick peek inside the rusting travel trailer that was the only structure for a few miles in any direction.
As I clutched the handle, the trailer’s front door blew off its hinges and smacked into the windshield. The glass didn’t break, but it spiderwebbed until there was no chance of us driving it anywhere else. Wand in hand, I exited the SUV and prepped a binding spell guaranteed to wipe me out for the rest of the day.
“Stand down,” Clay hollered to me from inside the trailer. “We’re good.”
Ignoring the order, wand at the ready, I held my position.
The entire trailer rocked as a familiar daemon made his exit, careful not to inflict more damage. His right horn gave him problems, but he figured out the angle and leapt to the ground rather than use the stairs.
I was unsurprised when he made a beeline for me. However, I was surprised when he took a fistful of his hair and offered it to me. He shook it at me until I accepted it, and it was all I could do not to laugh at his earnest expression. Maybe I wasn’t as smooth as I thought, and Asa had noticed me coveting his hair. Or if not him, his more primal self.
“You have very pretty hair.” I ran it through my fingers. “Thank you for, um, sharing it with me.”
That seemed to please him, and he stood sentry beside me, leashed by his hair, until Clay joined us.
Clay took one look at the handful of hair, shut his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, then ignored it altogether.
“That was the father of a missing girl.” Clay gusted out a sigh. “I told him her disappearance didn’t fit our timeline, that she wasn’t one of the victims we found, and it pissed him off worse.”
“He thought you had news.” I saw the problem and sympathized with the guy. “He was hoping for closure.”
“He punched the door.” Clay eyeballed the battered SUV. “Guess you noticed.”
As my adrenaline ebbed, I felt safe enough to pocket my wand, but I was stuck holding daemon hair.
I doubt they got much out of him, but I still asked, “Did he offer anything useful?”
“He said if we want to know about his daughter, we should check the missing persons reports he filed.”
Believe me, I would do just that. “How certain are we she’s not a previous victim?”
“Pretty sure since this guy wasn’t flagged on the suspect list. The Kellies don’t make mistakes often, but I would have handled the situation differently had I known. We need to update his file.”
The timeline left me certain I was missing critical information. “What took so long?”
“That would be the twenty-minute standoff where he held a gun loaded with cold iron rounds at Ace.” A grimness pinched his expression. “Ace believes he could have survived it, but he seems as fae as not to me. I didn’t want to take any chances.”
The daemon beside me grumbled under his breath as if to say I beg to differ.
I would have told him we were all more than the sum of our worst parts, but I wasn’t convinced I believed it either.
“This is why you shouldn’t ditch me.” Clay knew better than to leave me behind. “I could have thrown a sleep spell at him.”
Bart Olsen, according to his file, was a troll. Trolls were highly territorial. They tended to punch unexpected visitors in the face then let their guests announce themselves while spitting out teeth.
They also kept caches of various items of value. To them. Not necessarily to anyone else.
Yet another reason for their legendary aggression. They guard
ed their prized possessions to the death.
One troll on the company payroll built a fallout shelter to house his pickled foods hoard.
Carrots, pigs’ feet, beets, green beans, eggs, okra, as well as a variety of the classic pickled cucumber.
Go figure.
“We could have thrown you at him.” Clay chuckled at my temper. “You were dead to the world.”
“Drool,” the daemon beside me growled. “Everywhere.”
With a handful of his hair, I did what came naturally. I yanked. Then I regretted my act of hair violence. It wasn’t his hair’s fault that the daemon was teasing me. His flowing locks were innocent. I owed them an apology.
“You can have this back.” I pressed the hair into the daemon’s hand. “I’m getting in the SUV.”
Still chuckling, Clay leaned over to inspect the windshield, cursed, then punched his fingers through both ends and lifted it clear out of the frame. He stowed it in the trunk for disposal, solving the problem of how we planned on getting back to the hotel. Waiting for a tow truck in the yard of a grieving and violent parent must have appealed about as much to him as it did to me. Even if the modification to the SUV meant we arrived with bugs in our teeth.
With that task done, Clay climbed in while the daemon stood pouting with his hair in hand.
“You’re playing with fire,” Clay warned in a low voice. “That behavior ain’t natural for Ace.”
“It ain’t natural for me either.”
“I know,” he sighed, settling back. “That’s what worries me.”
Leaning forward, I stuck my head through the windshield. “Are you driving or…?”
The transformation swept over Asa, flames racing across his body, leaving him standing in his pants.
There must be an elastic waistband in them that allowed the material to expand and contract. His shirts were fitted, though, and they never survived the transition. Not that I minded the view of the aftermath.
The noise drew the homeowner’s attention, easy to do with his front door gone, and Asa stared at him.
“I have spare clothes,” Asa said, eyes on the man in the doorway, “but I don’t think it would be wise to linger.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you.” I didn’t like the way Olsen was looking at us. “We should go.”
Before he decided that a black witch on his property was the straw that broke…well…my back.
“Ace can handle driving with the windows down.” Clay chuckled evilly. “Right, Ace?”
Asa got behind the wheel, cranked up the battered SUV, and started down the driveway.
A bird called out overhead, and white splattered across the hood of the SUV, missing the dash by inches.
“I’m so glad I’m not shotgun right now.” Clay chortled. “Sucks to be you.”
Twisting in my seat, I shot him a bird so he wouldn’t feel left out, but he only laughed louder.
As we picked up speed, Asa’s beautiful hair caught the wind and blew into my eyes, his eyes, and possibly Clay’s too.
There was so much of it. And it smelled fantastic as it whipped my cheeks until they stung.
“I have a hairband.” I reached in my pocket. “I always carry a spare.”
Without slowing, Ace turned onto the main road and switched on the emergency blinkers.
“Would you mind?” His eyes were burnt crimson when he glanced over at me. “I can’t braid and drive.”
None of us wanted to hang around on Olsen’s property longer than necessary, but come on.
“I’m only agreeing to this because none of us can see through your hairnado.”
And because I really, really wanted to play with it.
But he didn’t need to know that last part.
11
The Kellies had an update for us by the time we reached my room, our unofficial office during this trip. It turned out the missing girl who provoked such a violent reaction from her grieving father was fostered. I don’t mean it in the human sense. The girl was entrusted to Olsen to raise for a powerful family in exchange for a boon. Her birth parents likely had heirs to spare and worried she would be picked off by her elder siblings in a coup when it came time for the heir apparent to come into their inheritance.
That meant no adoption paperwork, no birth record, no school records.
And, as far as the Kellies could determine, no missing persons report. Of any kind. With any agency.
“It’s like she never existed,” I muttered at my screen. “Olsen did his job of hiding her too well.”
“He also lied about reporting her missing.” Asa tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “Why bring it up when he knew we had the resources to prove he wasn’t telling us the truth?”
“Most folks wouldn’t hang around to fact-check a story in an enraged troll’s living room while he trashed the place.” Clay shrugged. “We sure didn’t. Maybe it was an act? Sell us a sob story then hit the bricks?”
“Perhaps,” Asa conceded, his expression thoughtful beneath his knotted mane of windblown hair.
“You don’t have to keep your hair like that.” I did my best not to laugh now that I had the full-on view of my handiwork. “We won’t think less of you if you go brush out the tangles.”
With only one hairband to spare, I had gathered his hair to my side of the car and plaited a single braid. I got most of it, thanks to its length, but a few flyaways had persisted. Those I shoved through loops in the braid to lock them down and keep them out of his eyes. That treatment, paired with high wind, whipped knots that would require a shower, intensive conditioner, and a comb to fix. Maybe a detangler too.
Did they even make detangler for adults?
Hmm.
Maybe that explained why his scent often carried an undertone of juicy green apples.
“I don’t mind.” He returned to his work then checked his phone. “They’re here to tow the SUV.”
“Do they need us for that?” I was busy ordering us a late lunch/early dinner online. “I can go down.”
“I tossed the keys on the front seat.” Clay kept pecking away. “They’ll text if there’s a problem.”
A chime on my phone had me searching through my pockets for it and frowning at the notification.
“Everything okay?” Clay glanced up then. “You don’t look happy.”
“It’s probably nothing.” I opened the security app to be sure. “There was movement near the house.”
Slowly, so as not to miss anything, I flipped through the various cameras.
“I don’t see anything.” I switched screens to check for missed calls. “The wards must be holding steady.”
“Colby would call if there was an issue.” Asa allowed himself a small grin. “She’s already proven that.”
“Yeah.” I forced myself to breathe. “You’re right.”
The day had been spent on travel, mostly our snail crawl back to the hotel, but it wasn’t full dark yet.
A knock on the door brought my head up, but Clay just smiled and said, “Why don’t you get that?”
One eyebrow quirking high, I answered the door to find the promised grocery delivery. A whole lot of it. Somewhere was a store without butter, sugar, flour, eggs, milk, or Clay-approved mix-ins. He also bought a muffin tin, a cookie sheet, and two cake pans with several bottles of nonstick spray.
As the nice young man loaded me down with bags, Clay scooched up behind me then nudged me aside.
Asa met me in the kitchenette, accepted the bags, and began putting away the cold items.
When he caught me staring, again, I was forced to play it off by whipping out my phone. “Smile!”
Caught off guard, Asa did not smile but raised his eyebrows in a questioning look that was now captured forever on my phone. His hair lent him a just rolled out of bed appearance while his expression threw off I haven’t had my coffee yet vibes.
Before he questioned my motives, I spun and snapped a quick pic of Clay loaded down with bags.
“I’m going to send Colby these pics of my two baking assistants.”
I did it too, to cover my butt, which wouldn’t have been an issue if Asa hadn’t looked so adorable.
Yep.
This was definitely his fault. Or his hair’s fault. One or the other. Both?
While I helped Clay put away his perishables, Asa returned to the table to resume his work.
There was really only room for one, but two could squish in there thanks to the open floorplan.
“We have preliminary results on the remains found at the processor.” Asa scrolled through the email. “They have been positively identified as the fourth missing girl.”
“Dammit.” A carton of eggs exploded in Clay’s fist. “What kind of sicko dreams up something like that?”
“We met a lady who bakes people cookies earlier,” I reminded him. “Black Hat exists for a reason.”
Look at me, spouting rhetoric I had been force-fed most of my life in the hopes I would one day believe it.
Asa studied me. “Do you think we’ll be paying the Malones a visit in the future?”
“If not us, then someone.” Of that I had no doubt. “Rose’s powers are on lockdown for a reason.”
“File a mental note,” Clay warned, “and then forget it.”
Black Hat had a zero tolerance for cowboying. Rogue agents got dead. It was how a lot of old-timers who wanted out but couldn’t quit made their grand exits. They chose their own targets, picked them off, then waited for the kill squad to arrive. That was the worst. No one wanted to terminate a contract.
And yes, that was how the director classified the sanctioned murder of one of his agents.
A contract.
Was it any wonder I had wanted out bad enough to risk a kill squad on my doorstep?
Except that wasn’t what happened, and I must have been banking on it. I was too valuable to terminate. Or I had been. Maybe I thought going white witch would turn the Bureau off me. If so, I had been wrong.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here, debating what sweet treat I craved the most.
“I’ll bake.” I was relieved to work out some of my aggression in the kitchen. “You guys keep working.”
Black Hat, White Witch Page 12
