Hell's Spells (Ordinary Magic Book 6)

by Devon Monk

  “Whatever would make you think that, Reed Daughter?”

  “He said no.”

  Death paused, and I wondered how many millions of data points that statement could be applied to.

  “Ryder,” I clarified. “He said no. He wouldn’t marry me. He said he never would, so that’s all settled now I guess.” The last came out too loud and too cheerful, and for just a second, I felt like yelling and throwing things, or putting on my jogging shoes and running out the door, out of Ordinary, out of my life and never coming back.

  Marriage didn’t have to be my future. I hadn’t obsessed over it as a child, hadn’t thought myself ready for it until Ryder came swanning back into town with that great smile, clever brain, and gorgeous heart.

  Over the last two years, I had thought about it more. Now that we were living together, I thought it might be our tomorrow, our someday.

  Than placed his bowl on the silver platter, the mug following with a little clink. He slid out from under Spud and stood.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “This is the part of the sleepover that requires wine, is it not?”

  I laughed again. “No, don’t. I’m fine. I have to go to work in a few hours. Wine is a bad idea.” I reached for his sleeve and tugged at it, tugged him back to sit on the couch.

  He tipped his head to one side, studying me. “Did he say no to you?”

  I fluffed a pillow and propped it behind me so I could curl my feet up and sit sideways on the couch. “I just said he did.”

  “You said he said no to Mithra.”

  “Same difference. Mithra ordered him to marry me and Ryder said he would never.” I curled the mug into my chest, enjoying the warmth that soaked through my shirt.

  “He told Mithra he would never marry you.”

  “I like how you’re catching on so quickly, and I don’t have to repeat myself.”

  Point Delaney. One-zero.

  His eyebrow twitched. “One feature of humanity that has never changed in all of time is their sarcasm.”

  I toasted him with the mug.

  “And their ability to lie.”

  “I’m not lying to you.”

  Than sighed. It sounded like he had run out of patience for the entire world. “You aren’t the only human on the earth, Delaney. I was speaking of Ryder.”

  “He’s lying. To Mithra?”

  “Are sleepovers always so mentally stimulating?”

  Point Than. One-one.

  “Yeah, this is about how it goes.”

  “And?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Do you recall everything he said?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you tell me all of it?”

  I hadn’t. I’d left one part out. “He said he wouldn’t marry me as long as he’s under Mithra’s command, but since Mithra is never going to let him go…” I shrugged.

  “Might he be lying to Mithra?”

  I rolled that around while I finished my cocoa. “Maybe,” I admitted. “He’s been so absent. I don’t really know what’s going on in his head right now.”

  “You’ve asked him, of course.”

  I felt the blush roll across my cheeks. “As much.”

  “Perhaps you should apply more specific effort in your word choice. Might I suggest something along the lines of: Ryder Bailey, do you intend to marry me? Enunciate clearly and use careful listening skills. You must also insist on the same level of conversational skill from him. It is known as a clearing of the air. Conflict resolution. Maturity.”

  “Did you just accuse me of being childish?”

  “Only of being human, Reed Daughter.”

  He sipped cocoa, watching me over the top of the mug.

  It made sense. Ryder was no fan of Mithra. He might be lying to the deity. But I had heard his voice, the tone of it, the conviction. If he were lying, he was doing a damn good job.

  “How about we watch the show,” I suggested.

  “The Court Jester,” Than read from the title credit. “Is it a tragedy?”

  “It’s a musical. Kind of. And an adventure. And a comedy. So quotable. You’re gonna love it.”

  “I see.” He settled back, one hand smoothing over Spud’s soft ears. “Go on.”

  “Oh, wait. Before I forget, Tala says hi.” It was a casual comment, no big deal. If I hadn’t been sitting on the couch right next to him, I might have missed his reaction.

  He was still, but the color in his face seemed to warm. Not a blush, because I was pretty sure Than didn’t have the capability to feel embarrassed.

  “Who?”

  His voice cracked. Cracked.

  I fought down a grin, because this was suddenly so much more interesting than the show.

  “Tala. She’s a goddess. Of the morning and evening star. I met her out at the casino Thursday.”

  “She mentioned me?”

  “She wondered if you were vacationing.”

  “Ah.” He didn’t say more, but I could see it in him. The strain to remain uninterested. “And you told her?”

  “Yes, you’re vacationing here. Then she told me to say hi. So I have. I’ve told you your girlfriend says hi.”

  “She is not my girlfriend.” He almost, almost pulled it off. The affronted look. The raised eyebrow.

  But that not-blush was still there. And his breathing was a little quick.

  “Is she your enemy?” That hadn’t occurred to me.

  “No.” The word was slow, stretched out.

  “Well, whatever she is, she seemed very interested in contacting you.”

  He swallowed, and I heard the click of his dry throat. “That is very cordial of her.”

  “Isn’t it? Isn’t it so nice of her to want to know where you are? To want me to pass on that message. I enunciated it clearly, didn’t I? Are you sweating?”

  “Why? Is there another hell spell in which you wish to participate?”

  Sassy. I just shrugged. “I am sorry about that. Do you want my blood too?”

  “Your blood?”

  “Seems to be the preferred form of payment for my crimes.”

  “Who has taken your blood?”

  Ah, yeah. There he was: the scary guy. The Death who wasn’t as much on vacation as he might think he was.

  I showed him my hands. “Werewolves, because I used the Heartwood in the spell, and Bertie, because I used her Feather in the spell.”

  “Ah.” The looming thunder in his eyes faded. “Wood, feather, and sweat. A very traditional spell. I can imagine the demon assumed using those items from citizens within Ordinary would give it power over you.”

  “Wait. What? It doesn’t?”

  He nodded toward my hands. “The demon grossly underestimated how much the citizens of Ordinary care for you.”

  I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I shook my head.

  “The marks,” he explained, like I was new to language. “You are claimed by the Wolfe clan, you are protected by the Valkyrie. And, it should go without saying that I am…minutely fond of you.”

  “Minutely,” I breathed, in a sort of wonder.

  He almost—almost—rolled his eyes.

  “But that doesn’t really mean anything—the marks,” I added quickly, watching the thunder roll in. “The marks don’t change the spell. He’s bound himself to me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. He’s bound to my soul.”

  “Yet the moment I add my claim to you, the spell will be broken.”

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Is that not why you came here this evening?”

  “You can break it?”

  “It’s rudimentary demon-soul, three-ingredient hellwork, Reed Daughter. He claimed the power of wood, feather and sweat. When wood, feather, and sweat claim you instead, the spell will be broken.”

  “Claim me? Is that why Granny and Bertie did this?”

  “I wou
ldn’t guess to know their ultimate intentions, but the facts remain.” He reached over and drew the controller off my knee as if expecting me to bite his hand.

  “If I want the spell broken, all I have to do is let you claim me?”

  He lifted the remote and pointed it at the screen. “Comedy, you say? With music?”

  “Than.”

  He lowered the remote. “It is, I believe the quickest way to break the spell. Is that not why you allowed the other marks?”

  “No, I was apologizing. This is what they demanded in payment. They could have pressed charges. Put me in jail.”

  “For a demon binding himself to your soul?” He tsked.

  “For theft. I stole the Heartwood and Bertie’s Feather.”

  “You stole the sweat of my brow too. Should I prosecute?”

  “You could.”

  “I see no reason to engage in foolishness.” He pressed the remote and the movie began, declaring the new Vista Vision High Fidelity over orchestral music. “Is it a stage play?”

  “It’s a movie from 1956.”

  “Ah. And there is the fool.”

  Danny Kaye was on screen in his jester suit singing about how life couldn’t be better.

  “About you claiming me,” I said.

  “Shh.”

  “You know I won’t let that happen.”

  He thumbed up the volume.

  “Than.” I touched his arm.

  He paused the movie and looked at me.

  “I can’t be claimed by a god. Can’t be…beholden to any. As the Bridge to Ordinary, I must remain impartial. No god can rule me.”

  “I’ve read the laws. All of them. I am very aware of Ordinary’s boundaries and your own.”

  “Right. So breaking the spell is out of the question. You can’t claim me with a mark or blood or whatever. That’s not happening.”

  “Must we settle this before we can watch the film?”

  “I just…no. That’s all. That’s all I needed to say. We can watch.”

  He held my gaze, and two long fingers fished in the small breast pocket of his striped pajama shirt. When he withdrew his fingers, a small business card balanced between them.

  I stared at the paper, which he wiggled at me until I took it.

  It was heavy card stock, bone white with tasteful gray lettering. One word was precisely centered on the card, written in an elegant font.

  Death

  “You have a card?”

  “I believe the fool is singing the plot to us.” He turned back to the screen.

  “Why do you have a card? No, wait. That’s not what I want to know. Why are you giving your card to me?”

  His thumb hovered over the pause button. “I am taking you on as a client.”

  “A client.”

  “Yes. As my client, my full offering of services are available to you. At your discretion.”

  “What does that mean? Is this some kind of contract?”

  He sighed and pressed pause. “It means, Delaney Reed, that we agree we are friends. When a friend calls, when you call, I shall offer you my full abilities.”

  “So this isn’t a claim?”

  “Nothing so slight. This is a promise.”

  The air seemed just a little colder, all the shadows of the room deeper, all the lights sparking hard and bright.

  Then he blinked and gestured with the remote. The world reset to normal mode. “Shall we observe?”

  I nodded and settled back to watch the show. It was a good thing I’d seen it a couple dozen times. My thoughts were too scattered to follow the clever wordplay, wheeling between Ryder’s declaration—

  —never marry her—

  —and Than’s promise—

  —we agree we are friends—

  —I wasn’t sure which one worried me more.

  Chapter Twenty

  When the movie ended, Than insisted on doing my nails. “Sleepovers require it.”

  My nails were now “Sugar Bunny” pink. I gleefully applied the polish to Than’s nails telling him: “Twinsies. It’s a sleepover thing.”

  Afterward, he bade me a goodnight and retreated into his bedroom, spiders scrabbling at the edges of the doorjamb before being thrust into the darkness. The door closed behind them with a quiet click.

  Tired as I was, I didn’t sleep, my thoughts returning again and again to the problems at hand: Xtelle and the never-ending chaos around her, Amy and the bond he’d forced on my soul, Mithra using Ryder as a puppet. And Ryder. Why hadn’t he told me what Mithra was doing? Why did he think he had to fight the god alone?

  Spud was up before dawn needing a bathroom break, so I took him for a walk, then left a note on the kitchen table thanking Than for the sleepover.

  Spud came with me to the station, where I changed into the clothes I kept there.

  “Long night?” Hatter asked as he squinted at the screen and hunt-and-pecked his way through a report.

  “And long morning. What’s the update on the High Tea Tide?”

  “Starts at eleven, but folks are already out getting early bird deals on breakfast and hitting the beach. Did you know there’s a petting zoo at the candy shop?”

  “I did know.”

  He grunted and went back to pecking.

  I filled my travel mug with coffee. “Myra’s coordinating personnel,” I said, even though he already knew that. “Come on, Spud, let’s go.”

  Hatter looked up. “Where are you going?”

  “Need to check on a demon. Don’t get up. I’m not going to see him until I have Jean and Myra with me.”

  “They’re already out there waiting for you.”

  I gave him a look.

  “It’s not that we don’t trust you on your own around demons, Boss. We know you’re completely capable of going hours, maybe even days without being possessed.”

  “Consider stowing the smart remarks. You have a yearly review coming up.” I snapped my fingers, and Spud stopped nosing around in the garbage can and bounded my way.

  “Wait,” Hatter said. “I take it all back. We’ve seen you go whole minutes at a time without being possessed.”

  I lifted a finger in response and shut the door on his laughter.

  The magic jail was out beyond the parking lot behind the station in an unimproved wooded area that sprawled across a few blocks. It didn’t take very long to walk through the grass and weeds, then under a few trees, following the dirt path that wasn’t visible to most people.

  It was cool this morning, but the breeze still carried the softness of a summer that had been holding on extra long this year. Perfect weather for an outdoor event. Bertie had, once again, planned impeccably.

  Myra and Jean were leaning against the front of the cruiser at the edge of the field where it gave way to thicker clumps of trees and viney undergrowth. My sisters had a box of Puffin Muffin pastries propped on the trunk.

  Jean waved.

  “Ladies,” I said, as Spud bounded around Jean, whining and wriggling for scritches.

  “How are you feeling today?” Myra asked.

  “Good. How about you?”

  “I’m okay. I spent most of the night going through the books. I haven’t found a way to break the spell.”

  “I might have a bead on that.” I dug around in the pastries and chose a chocolate glazed. Took a huge bite and moaned at the flaky, deep-fried, chocolate-covered goodness. I savored, then chewed and swallowed.

  “Than says he can break it. Well, they can break it. With the marks,” I held up each hand in turn, “and his card.” I patted my back pocket.

  Myra made a rewind gesture with her finger. “Back up. What card?”

  I shoved more donut in my face and handed her the card.

  “What does Hogan put in these?” I asked with my mouth full.

  Jean grinned. “Amazing, right? He told me never to share the recipe. But it’s butter and cayenne.”

  “Why does Than have a card?” Myra asked. “No, wait, I don’t care abo
ut that. How can this break the spell?”

  “He said that, to break the spell, the people connected to the elements used in it have to claim ownership of me in some way. So, the tattoo from the Wolfes,” I held up my hand, “and the love pat from Bertie are their marks showing their claim. If Than marked me or claimed me, then the spell would break.”

  Myra turned the card back and forth, held it up to the light, and rubbed her thumb over the letters. “But he can’t do that. You’re the Bridge.”

  “Right. That card just means we’re friends.”

  A passing seagull screeching out a give-me-the-french-fry call filled the long silence.

  “But you’re already friends,” Jean pointed out. Spud found a pine cone the size of a fist and dropped it at her feet. She chucked it out into the field.

  “He said if I call, when I call, he will offer his full services. As if I hired him or something.”

  Myra’s eyebrows went up.

  “I don’t know what he meant by it either. That’s all he would say. When I pressed, he got all godly and mysterious.”

  “Okay,” Myra said. “Okay. That’s…not bad.” She gave me the card.

  Jean swiped dirt off her hands, and petted Spud on the head instead of picking up the slobbery half-destroyed pine cone again. “How does a card help?”

  Myra picked up half an apple fritter and broke off a piece of it. “The marks left by the Wolfes and Bertie act as protection against anyone wanting to use their power against Delaney.”

  “Than didn’t use his power on me.”

  “I know. Friendship might be more like…”

  “Adoption?” Jean grinned. “Did you just get a new deadly daddy, Delaney? Are we in-laws to Death? Because I’m so going to put that on my social media profile.”

  “He didn’t adopt her,” Myra said. “It’s more like he’s offering protection services.”

  “Ooooh,” Jean cooed. “Delaney’s got a bodyguard.”

  “Delaney doesn’t need a bodyguard,” I said. “But a spell breaker? That I can use.” I tucked the card back in my pocket and started off toward the trees.

  “Aren’t you going to call him right now?” Jean asked, matching my stride.

  “Not yet. Now that I know I can break this, I want to interrogate our prisoner.”

  “Poking demons isn’t a good idea, Delaney,” Jean said. “Unless it’s for sexy fun times, right, Myra?”