Cursed Lines (A Peg Darrow Novel Book 2)

by Camille Douglass

  He quieted, looking contemplative.

  I turned my body to face the house and give him a moment with his thoughts. Shocking, nothing had changed. Lights on but no movement. I sighed.

  “My brother and father are not in that house.” Vegard turned in his seat as well to look out the windshield.

  “How would you know?”

  “I would feel them. I’ve been sitting out here as long as you’ve been.”

  I shrugged. “They’re not who I’m looking for tonight.

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “The witch who threw the dirty magic at us.”

  He folded his arms and settled further in his seat. “Tonight just got more interesting.”

  I glanced at him before returning my eyes to the house. Lord knew what I might have missed while we had our tête-à-tête. “Believe me when I say that tonight just got the opposite of interesting.”

  “Not a fan of the stakeout?”

  “Not a fan of fluid restriction and my ass falling asleep.”

  He nodded. “Those are the bad parts. As you get older it becomes somewhat meditative, relaxing even.”

  I stifled a yawn behind my hand. “Oh, old one, tell me about my wasted youthful ways.”

  He chuckled and faced forward. He probably would have gone into a meditative state, too, if Lola hadn’t marched out of the house, looking madder than a cat in a bathtub, well except for that one freak of nature kitten on the Internet.

  I ducked down and then realized how ridiculous that appeared, considering my Jeep and the fact that she beelined straight for us, so instead I gave little wave. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and she somehow marched harder. A West Point level of aggressiveness to her marching.

  “You were spying on Lola?” Vegard asked under his breath.

  “Nope, just the bad apple family she’s been associating with.”

  “I’ve heard of over-protective parents, but this is a whole new level for a friend.”

  “Rumor has it they’re drainers.”

  He hissed in a breath. “I’ll hold her; you bind her. We’ll stash her away until Pammy gets the family to move on, preferably to the other side.”

  I looked at him. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Why not?”

  I thought about it. Lola was still about fifty feet from the car. “She’d never forgive me, and I believe, no, hope that she’s going to see reason. Plus, I think Pammy is using her as bait, and as much as that gives me hives, I do believe that Pammy knows what she’s doing.”

  “She’ll choose the health of the coven over the health of a single witch.”

  My gut churned. I knew that, but I also knew that I’d look out for Lola. Proof being that I stayed in my seat while my best friend approached, looking angrier than I’d ever seen her, instead of peeling away from the curb and fleeing like a yahoo.

  Swallowing, I rolled down my window with the mechanical crank. “Oh, hey, Lola, I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

  “What in god’s name are you doing? Are you spying on Michael? This is so low, Peg, even for you.”

  My brain froze as I tried to come up with an excuse.

  “She’s meeting me. I had a few things to discuss with her. You know, goblin business.” Smooth, Vegard, smooth.

  Lightning flashed in Lola’s eyes, like literal lightning, she was so angry her powers were creeping up. “Goblin business, my ass. I’m a bloody goblin for all intents and purposes. Raised with you. She only joined the party a month ago.” She had managed a harsh whisper that still sounded like yelling.

  “I always knew you guys had secret parties. Not cool to not invite me, Lo.” My joke fell flat.

  “You claim to be my friend, but ever since you became a goblin witch soldier of fortune, your mind has warped. You’ll do anything to win. This isn’t a game, Peg. This is my life, and I love him. You’re like my sister. You should be happy for me.”

  “My priorities may have changed, but you’re still one of them. Why won’t you see reason?” I kept my voice soft. If I spoke any louder, Lola would hear the tears I was holding back and use them against me. Knowing that as a fact in that moment hurt more than nearly dying the month before.

  Though I thought I hid it well, Lola must have heard because her eyes calmed, and she looked sad. I thought I’d gotten through to her, but then she tensed up again, squaring her shoulders. “We need a break, Peg. I’ll call you when…if…I’m ready to talk. Stay away from Michael.” Her eyes narrowed in on Vegard. “You too, jackass.”

  As she walked back to the house, I felt wetness on my cheeks. Did I just lose my best friend? Even worse, would I be able to save her?

  9

  Vegard disappeared quickly after Lola did. I didn’t blame him because I also didn’t know what to do when people cried in front of me. That and we didn’t need to discuss anything else. All I wanted when I got home was to bust open a bottle of wine and go to sleep after consuming the whole damn thing. I settled for a Benadryl to prompt sleep that wouldn’t come after I completed my chores for the evening, which consisted of preparing all the necessities for the reverse scry spell.

  One of my cases had gone completely FUBAR. Of course that would be the job that didn’t pay, but Lola’s friendship was worth more than a mortgage payment, though gods help me if I didn’t make the deadline for Delmy I’d never let her live it down...when Lola started to talk to me again.

  The allergy pill helped me sleep soundly through the night and avoid the normal nightmares that accompanied a hellish day, but the next morning the hits kept on coming. Deval had agreed to let me come back to his lair to do a reverse scry spell. Normally, I’d be avoiding him right now, but a friendly face sounded nice even if that face didn’t want to accidentally commit because his magical storeroom thought we were cute together. So when I opened my door to find Griselda once again up to the task of chauffeuring a churlish witchlin to a super-secret location, my heart dropped. Fuck them.

  Turned out that Deval must have felt at least a little guilty about being a chicken shit because Griselda came equipped with a ridiculously oversized coffee, which made the rejection slightly more bearable. Of course that could also have been the numbness that was beginning to steal over me. Griselda, to my surprise, actually attempted small talk while driving me with my usual blindfold. I learned that she had two cats. I guessed that felt like a safe topic after she’d spotted Cheddar. She’d been right, and by the time we landed in the Bat Cave, also known as Deval’s super secret lair, my spirits had managed to rise to the level where I at least wasn’t contemplating becoming a lone survivalist on some rural mountain range. I’d probably just run into another secret goblin lair.

  Unmasked in the living room, I set the small duffel I’d brought down on a rug that would probably sell for enough to pay my mortgage for several months. I unzipped it and pulled out three vials, a travel cauldron also known as a small saucepot, a camper stove, and a lighter.

  “You’re going to be lighting a fire? I’m not sure if Deval would like that,” Griselda said from behind my crouched position.

  I stood up and waved my arm around the empty room. “Whoopsies, if his majesty can’t be bothered to show up, then I don’t care if he’d approve. Besides, this is witch magic. I’m a witch, so I know what is necessary.”

  “Is that so?” Griselda crossed her arms and scowled at me.

  “Well, not every witch knows, but in this particular case, I do. I’m not setting a bonfire off in his living room, Griselda. It’s a camp stove.”

  She studied the small one burner contraption as if it were about to go off at any moment.

  “Haven’t you ever been camping?”

  She scowled at me. “Leave me in the wilderness with a pocket knife and return a year later. I would emerge healthy and lead you back to the settlement that I had built in the first month.”

  I lifted my hands in surrender. “I would be dead or have joined a forest cult if they offered to feed me. Th
is little stove has been in my family for years, and when I went on regular camping trips, no survivalist skills here, but my mother would let me use it to make our bacon in the morning. If I were to set anything on fire, I would use every bit of the magic I currently have in my reserve, which ain’t too shabby, to put out said fire. Burning Deval’s house down would probably be the straw that led to Deval murdering me and feeding me to the pigs.”

  “Why would he feed you to the pigs?” Her face scrunched in confusion.

  Guess she hadn’t seen Snatch. “Never mind.”

  “As you are the expert here, I will allow it.” She went and sat on the sofa, prepared to watch my every move.

  “So kind you are, mistress.” I gave little bow but turned away before I could see her reaction. Lighting the gas stove, I set the pot on it and cleared my mind. When thoughts of kicking Deval in the balls no longer invaded my mind, I pulled out the three vials and started chanting. Each one contained a mixture to represent the past, present, and future. A dead marigold, a live marigold with roots still attached, and a seed. Mixed in with all three was vodka to purify along with some other herbs that would hold the magic I infused in them for the time being. I doubted my babysitter would be happy about the little boom the alcohol would make, but sometimes magic needed a boom.

  Still chanting, I pulled the cork out of death and directed my magic to flow with it into the pot. I leaned back, expecting the small fire surge that left black sparks glittering in the air. A small gasp came from the couch, but she kept her peace. Next I pulled the cork on future, repeating the process, only this time to emit white sparks. Finally I pulled the cork on the present because there was no time like the present to find out who our traitor was. The sparks rose a bright green. Rather than let them disintegrate into the air as I had done with the other two, I pulled them into my energy, bringing with them the ashes of the past and the promise of the future. I directed the spell up into the gold fleck, the perfect conduit and also a brilliant piece of surveillance to hide in a goblin’s home.

  The magic swirled a tornado of mostly green, glittering with specks black and white. I directed it, forced it into the bead until every ounce of magic was in there. I stopped chanting and took a step back.

  “Is that it?”

  “Shhhh.”

  The magic now released to the universe would follow the original scrying spell, its brother, back to the source. It could be a room over; it could be half a world away. We stayed silent for about five minutes before I heard the telltale pop, and the magic whooshed back out of the gold fleck and produced an image. The image was of a spell room. Shelves lined every wall filled to the brim with books, bottles, jars, and other trinkets. In the middle sat a workstation with a small burner, a padded stool tucked under. Why do the bad guys get all the sweet digs?

  “Do you recognize it?” I asked.

  “No, I hoped you would. It looks to be a witch’s place.”

  “We don’t all know each other, Griselda.”

  “You should. There are few of you left, and there is strength in numbers,” she harrumphed.

  “Or we’re sitting ducks easier to kill in one fell swoop.”

  She looked chastised. Our numbers really had taken a nosedive in the last few centuries.

  “Okay, I know a lot of the witches in town but that doesn’t mean we’re besties. It takes a lot of trust to allow a magic user into your home, as you well know after all the times you’ve bundled me to secret locations. So, even if I know the witch, I likely won’t recognize their home.”

  “So, what do we do now?” She gestured at the image before me.

  “Now we get some snacks and wait. This is a live feed. We just need to be patient.”

  “Have you ever watched the live feed for one of those reality shows where everybody back stabs each other in a house hoping to win a million bucks?” Griselda asked.

  “No,” I said surprised at her question, as she didn’t strike one as the trash TV type.

  “Me neither, because it’s boring.”

  “Touché. Don’t get too excited at the glamorous life that is being a soldier of fortune.”

  “I’ll try not to,” she replied, deadpan. “I’ll get us some refreshments. Stay here and do not tell Deval that I left you alone. Also, don’t go bonding with another one of his planes.”

  She had turned to walk out of the room, so she missed the blush that stained my cheeks. Whoo boy.

  The snacks in the joint, as expected, were top notch. Crispy but not greasy tortilla chips with what must have been homemade salsa and an honest to goodness lemon meringue pie. Who had pies just lying around? I didn’t. If a pie sat in my kitchen longer than a day, then I hoped somebody had called the coroner because likely the reaper had come for me. She even busted out some diet soda. I doubted that Deval drank the stuff, and she confirmed that she had picked it up for me.

  “He advised me to keep you caffeinated. He said you liked sugar in coffee but not in carbonated beverages.”

  My mouth fell open.

  She arched brow at me. “You two are just friends?”

  I shoved a bite of pie in my mouth to force it shut. The juxtaposition of sweet and tart hit a note of perfection when combined with the light-as-air meringue. I might forgive him after all.

  “Are you eating to avoid questions?”

  I swallowed. “Depends, are you asking for yourself or someone else?”

  “Myself.”

  “Well, then I can tell you that I have no idea how to describe our relationship, but at this time, friends is the best description.”

  “Like that, is it?”

  “Between you and me, I don’t know how it is. According to a friend, I should just let whatever happens happen.”

  “That is prudent advice.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have a reputation for patience.”

  “Few people do when it comes to this sort of thing. Of course you seem to do all right sitting around staring at a projection of a room.”

  “Eh, I can do it if necessary. The sugar and caffeine help, but when it comes to personal matters, that’s just not me. I don’t like things to stew unless they’re in a Crock-Pot.”

  “You’re very food focused.”

  I shrugged. Truth be told, I was a glutton. “I’m a bona fide member of the clean plate club.”

  She smiled, scraping the last bite of pie from her plate. “Me, too.”

  A few days ago, if someone had told me that I’d be sitting with Griselda, eating pie, and gossiping about men I’d have told you were insane because Griselda reserved her energies for warrior duties and scowling. Happy to be proved wrong, I ate more pie, not wanting to have to turn in my membership card.

  Three hours and some change later, we’d consumed half the pie, half a bag of chips, and what must have been a quart of salsa. I seriously considered unbuttoning my jeans but decided Griselda and I weren’t there yet. I’d save my less than polite behavior for the future. Little did she know she had that to look forward to, that and me carrying on phone conversations while taking a whiz, the ultimate sign of friendship.

  We sat in companionable silence, and my eyes began to flutter. I glanced over at Griselda. Her eyes were alert, staring at the conjuring room projected before us. If I just closed my eyes for a moment, it wouldn’t matter. About to give in, I caught some movement in the projection. A woman entered the room. I sat forward, studying her back as she set a tote bag on the workstation. Pulling a few items, she finally turned to face the camera.

  “Well, shit.” Griselda muttered.

  “Yup.” I agreed. I rushed forward and began my chant. The projection faded turning back into a tornado of magic before I pulled the spell back along the line of the original spell. It finally reformed into one ball of spent magic, and I dropped it back in my pot, ready for disposal and turned back to Griselda.

  “You want to tell him?”

  “That our healer has betrayed our people? Not particularly, but it is
my duty. Why did you stop the projection? He may have wanted to see it.”

  “If he did, then he should have shown up today and not just provided snacks. You’ve witnessed the betrayer, and I don’t want her to know we’re on to her as of yet. She’d go into hiding or leave town. Right now, her scrying spell is dormant, but if she decided to pop it open tonight to ogle Deval in his skivvies, she would sense the magic and know that it had been compromised.”

  “It can be fun when they run.” Griselda’s grin took on a predatory glint.

  I shivered. “Ugh, no thank you. You just reminded me of a certain vampire.”

  “That was unkind. I may be a skilled tracker, but I’m not a predator.”

  I threw up my hands. “I know, I know. Right now I need to clean up, and you need to take me home. There are things that must be done, and you need to go use those tracking skills to deliver some bad news.”

  She nodded and grabbed the pot to go clean. I’d wanted to snoop in Deval’s kitchen, but arguing over someone cleaning up for me wasn’t something I did. So I gathered my stuff together, used a little powder room I’m been directed to off the living room, and contemplated my next steps.

  A local witch mixed up in treason against the goblins was something Pammy needed to know. Delmy may have hired me, but it looked like I wouldn’t have a choice. Griselda didn’t look forward to telling Deval. Well, I really didn’t want to get my boss involved, but thems was the breaks.

  10

  The conversation I needed to have with Pammy was not a phone conversation. Once Griselda dropped me off, I quickly fed my cat and headed out the door. Anxiety gnawed at my gut. I had no reason to feel guilty. I’d done nothing wrong, but like everyone else, I much preferred to give the man, or woman as the case may be, in charge good news. Telling said woman that a member of her coven who had secretly been working for the goblins also had secretly betrayed said goblins. The political machinations involved made my head hurt.