Apparently, this household used chaises longues for healing. Not that I was complaining. It was soft and gave me a perfect angle on my upper body to angle my head to look at my stomach and chest where I could feel the foreign spell sliding around under my skin.
“Do you need anything?” Deval asked.
“Just willpower.”
He smiled down at me. “Since that’s a synonym of stubbornness, I have no doubt you have plenty.” He left my side then, but he didn’t go far, just perched himself on the corner of the bed ready to watch the show.
I could wait for the healer in the other room to finish with Vegard, but he’d had a much larger hit than I had, so it would be a while. Also, I felt the spell growing inside of me. That could just be paranoia, but paranoia was a strong motivator, so I cleared my mind and reached for my magic.
The foreign spell tried to hide itself from me, but Deval was right, I was stubborn. I scanned my body, and sure enough, the spell sat in my chest like a tangled ball of yarn, ugly and invasive. Taking a deep breath, I studied it and found an end.
My magic fought to grip the end. Once it captured it, the puzzle began. I teased the knot from my body inch by agonizing inch. Sweat poured off me, my teeth clenched, and I felt a slight tremble in my body from the burning pain of pulling the dark matter from me. I tried to keep the tremble under control because every movement brought the needles of pain.
Once I had a good amount of the spell wrapped around one hand like a spool of thread, Deval made a quiet exit, returning with a mason jar filled with salt. He opened the jar and set it on a small side table beside me. I hadn’t thought about what I would do with the nasty stuff when I began, just eager to get it over with, but a salt cleanse would do nicely, and then an even better idea came to mind. I kept my plan to myself and returned my focus to the task at hand.
What could have been hours or minutes later, I did a final scan of myself, probing inside my own body and mind for any hint of something foreign remaining. Satisfied, I then sat up and grabbed the jar with my empty hand, taking the wound-up spell and pushing it into the jar, quickly closing the lid in case the spell had any sense of sentience and could realize the danger. Jar lid on as tight as I could twist it, I shook the jar, whispering a purifying incantation. The spell shuddered turning a light pink except for a few purple flecks still floating around, so I continued to shake the jar, making sure the magic was properly cleaned.
“Is it done?” I jumped a little and nearly lost my grip on the jar. Deval had been so quiet the entire process I’d forgotten about him. He laughed quietly at me.
“You try pulling dark magic from your own body and then tell me you wouldn’t spook at an unexpected noise,” I said, scowling at him.
That earned me a radiant smile. “I have been the victim of many such things. I will not argue with you, but I will say I hid it better.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, holding the jar up to the sconce on the wall and examining it closely. I could not detect a single hint of the malevolent magic. Just to be safe, I recited the purification incantation one more time. Deval didn’t say anything but watched me work my magic. The various magical species didn’t often perform their magic in front of one another. I’d have had the same fascinated look on my face if Deval would ever be so kind as to allow me to watch him practice.
Quickly I unscrewed the lid, reached out with my hand, took the cleansed magic, and pushed it inside my mouth, letting the now pure magic to reabsorb into my body. Hands were suddenly on my shoulders, shaking me, and I dropped the jar that now only contained salt onto the plush carpet. I looked up at Deval.
“I’m not vacuuming up the salt,” I told him.
He stopped shaking me, but his fingers still dug into my shoulders. He stared down at me, eyes hard. “What has possessed you to take that foul magic back into your body after you spent so long removing it? Are you possessed?” His last question sounded hopeful. He wanted a supernatural reason to explain my behavior.
I rolled my eyes at him and reached up to break his grip from my shoulders. “No, dummy, it’s like a vaccine.”
“I have never heard of such a thing.” He released my shoulders and folded his arms, not breaking eye contact.
“So if you haven’t heard of it, it’s not possible?”
He sighed. “No, but I am much older than you, and I make it my business to know these things.”
“Well, it’s a relatively new practice. And it’s not foolproof. It won’t make you completely immune to the caster’s magic, but it does add a level of protection as your own magic is often reluctant to attack itself. I cleansed it twice, it was totally safe.”
“Would Pammy agree with that assessment?”
“Ehhh.” I didn’t know Pammy’s stance on the cool new magic science.
“I knew it. It’s not tested. Do you have a death wish?”
“You really need to stop asking me that.” My jaw clenched, which made it difficult to get the sentence out. “Pammy lets her fortunes make their own decisions. I’m not the untrained novitiate you knew six weeks ago.”
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, I am sorry that you went away to camp and came back thinking you’re invincible. You should realize by now that is not the way the world works. I can’t always save you.”
Stepping in close, I pointed at him. “I went to ‘camp,’ as you so snidely called it, so you wouldn’t have to, and the program that I attended does not deserve your scorn. Tonight I saved your cousin from a malicious attack, getting injured in the process, and I still got him out of the club and to a healer. All the while that foul magic grew inside of me, Deval. Do you think just any witch could pull a tangled malicious spell from their body? Let me answer that for you, ‘no’.” The pointing had turned into me poking him to stress each word.
He grabbed my hand, but I twisted it free and turning marched to the door to go check on Vegard. Deval followed at my heels. I ignored him, not wanting to continue our conversation.
In the living room, Vegard remained prone on the chaise while the healer mimicked what I had just done to myself. I approached, and she looked up from her task.
“All taken care of?”
“Of course,” I said, steel in my voice, tired of being underestimated. My shields were back up to full force, so I noticed when she didn’t scan me to verify. Damn right, someone respected my mad skills. “Can I help you?”
She nodded, returning her gaze to her patient. “This is taking longer than I hoped, and as I’m sure you know, it’s not a painless process.”
“Does he need to go under?” Deval inquired from behind me.
“No, it’s not that severe.”
I’d learned recently that goblins could assist in putting each other under if they were injured enough, but it was only in the severe cases. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that their healer knew that, but I’d had to beg for every drop of goblin knowledge, and I was part goblin. I had a plane and everything. I huffed out an annoyed breath and went to the other side of the chaise.
My body felt shaky after my ordeal, but Vegard looked one hundred times worse. His skin had already gray at the bar had turned a deeper sickly gray in the interim. His dinner jacket from earlier had been removed, and the dress shirt he wore was soaked in sweat. His eyes tightly shut as the other witch continued to pull the magic out of him.
I reached in with my own power, looking for another end. This time I found it in seconds.
“I see that you’ve used the new vaccine technique. Clever.”
I shot Deval a triumphant look, and he answered with a scowl. “Yes, it seemed wise given the situation.”
She nodded again, returning her concentration to her work, and I did the same. The tangled magic loosened itself easily this time around and allowed me to surpass quickly what the healer had been able to pull. All the while, Vegard remained silent with gritted teeth and eyes closed. The pain must have racked up with me working on him as well, but as they say, b
etter out than in.
We met in the middle, the thread of magic pulled tight between our two entry points. If I hadn’t consumed the magic, we would have had to pull one of spools of magic back through, still faster than one person doing all the unraveling. With my new awareness of the magic I reached out and snapped it in two. Vegard’s body jerked as we pulled our respective ends free.
Deval returned once more with a jar of salt. I pushed the sticky threads off my hand and into the jar. I snorted when Deval quickly confiscated the jar. The look on his face brought on an eye roll before I could stop myself, which he ignored and turned to the woman who deposited her own catch.
“Millicent, this is Peg,” he introduced the woman that I’d worked side by side with.
“Nice to meet you,” she grumbled before turning to Deval, giving him a glare to rival his own. “Did you need to say my name?”
He shrugged while putting the lid on the jar. “Do you think Peg will tell Pammy who you are? The sheriff already knows and turns a blind eye.”
“There’s no way,” Millicent spluttered before I interrupted.
“There is definitely a way. Pammy is well informed of everything that happens in her domain.” That included the greater Phoenix area and to some extent the rest of the state. Out of sight out of mind helped the outlier cities but did not make them immune.
Crossing her arms, she turned her gaze on me. “Is that so?”
My hands flew up in innocence. “Hey now, I didn’t say I knew firsthand that she knew about you, just that the woman is known for her secrets. If your secrets don’t hurt her or break any laws, do you really think she cares?”
She blew out an aggravated breath and turned back to Vegard, running a scan to make sure that we got it all. Deval and I stood there, awkwardly waiting for her to finish. Just when I’d contemplated skulking out, she straightened.
“He’ll be fine. He just needs rest,” she said to Deval before pointing at me. “And you, just because she might know doesn’t mean that you need to advertise it.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I placated the delusional witch.
Deval handed Millicent the jar to dispose of, and she walked out of the room. To the bathroom, kitchen, secret sex dungeon, I didn’t care because now that the crisis had passed I needed to reach out to Lola.
Even though it was well after midnight by the time I’d extracted myself from Deval’s home, I called Lola as soon as I sat in my Jeep. I needed to hear her voice, make sure she was okay.
Lola answered after several rings. “Gawd, Peg, why are you calling me so late? You ditched me!”
“Are you alone?”
“Of course, I am. I work tomorrow.”
“Lola, I didn’t ditch you. Vegard and I were attacked the minute you went to the bathroom.”
There was a beat and then worry replaced the irritation in her voice. “Oh my god, Peg. I’m so sorry. Did the humans realize you were a witch?” Humans were known for their recreational witch bashing, so I could understand her jumping to that conclusion.
“No, Lo,” I used her nickname to maybe soften the blow. “Michael threw a dirty spell at Vegard, and I caught some of the ricochet. We’ve been at Deval’s getting healed.”
The line had gone silent. Understandable, it was a lot to take in.
I let the silence drag for thirty seconds before tentatively asking, “Lo?”
“You’re unbelievable. What has gotten into you? Accusing sweet Michael of such a horrible thing. He took care of me tonight when I cried about you leaving me to go have some tryst with another goblin.”
I heard venom in her voice that had never been directed at me. My body tensed at the emotional onslaught. “I would never do that, Lola. You know that.”
“After this stunt, I’m not really sure I’d know what you’d do at all, Peg.” The line went dead.
6
In high school and college, I’d worked odd jobs with even odder schedules. After graduating, I figured I’d end up teaching, but since that hadn’t come to pass, I’d never worked anything similar to the classic nine-to-five. Heretofore I’d never understood all the animosity toward Monday, but now it was Monday, and Monday was the absolute worst. I finally had a case of the Mondays.
My foul mood had more to do with Lola’s accusations than waking up early, though that certainly didn’t help. I made an entire pot of coffee, extra strong because it was too early for tequila, and I needed some liquid courage to back up the “give no fucks” attitude I’d awoken with.
At the kitchen table, motor oil in hand, I made the call. Not to Lola because frankly I didn’t have time for an intervention. I would get to that later.
Deval answered on the second ring. “Peg.” He managed to combine a statement and a question in my name.
“Yep, I need to come by your place.”
“If you must, I’ll tell the doorman to let you up.”
“Uh uh, I need to come to your place,” I stressed the “your.”
He paused for a moment. “That is more difficult.”
“If your mama let me into her place, I don’t see why you would have any objections. She hired me to find out how Grant stole George from right under your nose. You should have brought me over when that happened. I didn’t push it because all the ‘me goblin, you witch,’ bullshit but apparently I’m a witchlin, so this is getting ridiculous.”
“Witchlin?”
“Combination of witch and goblin.”
“No, I understood that part; I just don’t know why you’d ever deliberately christen yourself as one.”
I took another gulp of coffee before responding. “I’ve been called worse. Now who’s picking me up, and should I bring my own hood?”
“Hood?”
“Don’t play dumb. We both know you’re going to blindfold me.” I didn’t have the patience for this garbage today.
“True, I just did not think you the type to own a hood.” He replied deadpan.
“I don’t, but I have a sleeping mask that should suffice.”
“Then why did you offer?” He sounded genuinely curious.
I slammed my coffee mug down, causing the hot liquid to slosh over my hand. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from cursing.
“Are you breaking things, Peg?”
“Nope, that was Cheddar,” I lied glibly.
“Uh huh.”
Okay, apparently not as glib as I thought. “I offered to bring my own hood as a way to expedite this process. We both know what it will take to get this trail ride trotting, and I, believe it or not, have several things on my plate. Who is picking me up and when?”
“Fine, I will collect you within the hour. You are in a foul mood today, Peg.”
“It’s Monday,” I growled into the phone before ending the call.
A few days ago, I’d have put more effort into my appearance at the prospect of seeing Deval. At this point, I’d come to the conclusion that romantic interests were stupid and dangerous. Case in point Lola’s obsession with Michael and Fane’s obsession with me. Dangerous. Ratty jeans, a V-neck, and flip-flops were good enough for my day to day, and they were good enough for Deval. Being able to wear flip-flops in December was a privilege I earned by driving my car wearing oven mitts in the Arizona summer.
A knock on my front door came thirty minutes later. Good thing, too. I’d been considering adding some Grand Marnier to my coffee. Not my most professional idea. I opened the door without checking the peephole or my wards. My mood that would not let up practically dared anyone to try to mess with me.
Deval stood on my front porch. Hair pulled back, gray T-shirt, jeans, and boots. “Ready to go?”
“Yep, I see that you got the memo about casual day.”
His gaze moved over me taking in my messy ponytail, well-worn outfit, and finally stopped at my footwear.
“What?”
“I went casual. You went one step above hobo.”
I rolled my eyes. “You just can’t handle t
he flop.” Where had that come from?
“Oh, I can handle the flop. I never said you weren’t an attractive hobo.”
My stomach did a little flip. “Uh huh, you’re just being nice because my bad mood is frightening you.”
He scoffed. “I am not frightened of you.”
“Well, maybe you should be.” I crowded him out of my doorway, closing the front door and locking it with my back to him. He only gave me enough room to complete my task, allowing no extra space. Apparently, he needed to prove that he indeed lacked any fear in association with me. If I rolled my eyes anymore, I suspected that my face might get stuck that way.
“Can we go through a Dutch Bros drive through?” I asked when we were seated in his car, a sedan that was large, comfy, and luxury.
He looked over, scowling. “Is this a field trip for you?”
“Of course not,” I snapped. “I take this very seriously, which is why I need something that has sugar and coffee. It will make me alert, and for your benefit, I guarantee that I’ll be nicer having consumed it.”
“I don’t mind your mood.”
I looked over at him frowning. He liked me when I was this salty? I shook my head, nope, not even thinking about it. “I mind my mood, it takes a lot of energy to be this snarky. Please.” I grated.
He sighed. “Direct me to this Dutch Bros.”
I grinned like a loon at him and gave him instructions.
The hood didn’t make an appearance until after we’d gone through the drive through. This time around, I didn’t fall asleep on the journey. Instead I sipped happily on thirty ounces of heaven through a straw. I made a mental note to require a large beverage with an equally large straw any time I was whisked away to super secret goblin land.
Happily caffeinated, I noted that we spent the majority of our journey on the highway before eventually hitting a dirt road. This part I remembered. The only things I heard were the classical music, something Eastern European and robust, and the ping ping of gravel crunching under the tires and shooting up into the undercarriage. Deval stayed decidedly mum throughout the trip. Fine by me. I didn’t feel particularly chatty.
Cursed Lines (A Peg Darrow Novel Book 2) Page 5
