Cursed Lines (A Peg Darrow Novel Book 2)

by Camille Douglass

  “Get your ass in here.”

  I obeyed her and followed her. Normally I’d have taken the time to study her home, but I barely noticed that she owned furniture as I followed her to the back of the house. Pammy had a spell room set up in a den area. White cabinets lined one wall with different symbols painted on each. When she reached to open the one that had a black skull laughing manically on it, I began to shiver violently. I still felt fine, but considering the other cabinets had flowers, animals, and runes painted on them, this cabinet further reinforced the danger we were in.

  The cabinet contained row after row of test tubes in holders, all corked and neatly labeled. She got out a step stool and climbed it, reaching the top shelf. She strained, grasping for something that had been pushed to the back. A grunt of success escaped her as she pulled out two vials. She climbed down and handed one to me, the liquid in it a thick and inky black.

  Pammy pulled out her cork. “Quit studying it. You need to drink it.”

  I pulled out my cork and Pammy startled me by clinking her vial to mine. “May we live long and prosper, oh, and murder our enemies.”

  I’d drink to that. “Amen.”

  We drank. The liquid was gritty and bitter, but I held my head back, swallowed every drop, and considered licking the tube for good measure. My body seized up. I lost all control and fell to the floor. My heart stopped, and my vision blackened. I felt no pain when my body hit the floor, and for a brief moment, I hovered over myself. Just as quickly, I was sucked back in my body. My chest throbbed as my heart began again and lungs seized in a death gasp. Across from me, Pammy made a similar noise. I stared at her. We both were sprawled on our sides, breathing as if we’d just learned how. After a few minutes, our breathing steadied.

  “What did you just have me take?” I asked. My voice sounded faded to my own ears.

  “Reaper.”

  “What?” I yelled. Well, more likely said in a very hoarse but firm tone.

  Reaper was a last ditch potion, meant for the foolish or the desperate. Mostly the desperate. When a powerful spell locked on you and there was no cure, your only option to remove it was death. Reaper killed you, hopefully for only the moment it would take the spell to abandon a corpse, but you didn’t always wake up. Last I’d heard, your chances were sixty-forty to begin with and went down by about ten percent with each dose.

  “No choice. We were already dead.”

  I lay there. I knew I should get up, but shock at the severity of our situation hit me.

  “On the bright side, you’ll have earned some serious street cred for this,” Pammy tried to lighten the mood.

  “For standing too close when a magical plague went off, taking a potion that I didn’t even think to ask what it was, or surviving Reaper?”

  “We need to teach you how to spin a tale. You heroically tried to save a woman who was already in her death throes, risked the world’s most dangerous cure, so you could come back from the brink of death to avenge a fellow witch.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell my mom that version.”

  “She’ll be worried, but happy that you’re on a serial killer case.”

  I sat up, my body willing to move now that the shock had worn off. “You’re right.” My mother loved any story crime related, serial killer being the mecca of all crimes. “But how did you know that?”

  “Peg, I know every witch in this state. I have spoken with each and every one of them. It’s my job.”

  “And your privilege.”

  “Caught that did you?”

  “Yep, I didn’t realize that you cared that much.”

  She sat up, looking flabbergasted. “Of course I care. Yes, it’s nice to be the boss, but I would not willingly put up with this headache if I didn’t believe that I could help, to improve our lives, to make a better world for the next generation.”

  “I don’t even know if that’s possible for witches. The fear runs too deep.” I hadn’t even realized my own cynical view until I said the words out loud.

  Pammy looked at me. Most of the time her face was hard, authoritative, or filled with laughter. This was the first time I’d seen genuine sadness. “Hope is important, Peg. We will find a way. If we don’t, our children will.”

  We stood up gingerly. My shoulder ached, probably from the unexpected tumble. Pammy tested her body from side to side, her hands on her hips. Her spine cracked audibly. I winced.

  She caught my facial expression. “The body creaks as you get older.”

  “What? I thought you were immortal?”

  “Not now, maybe someday–hope, remember?”

  “I’m not even sure I’d want to be immortal if I had the opportunity.”

  “Your psyche yearns for what is lost, but you’ve accepted your untimely demise. Given the opportunity, you’d take the thousand years that were supposed to be ours, even if only to keep the hussies off of your goblin boy toy.”

  “Seriously, Pammy, where do you get all this information?” I glared at her.

  “None of your business. Besides, I know a lot of things but I wasn’t certain about that until you just confirmed it. If you don’t want people to think you have something going on, you shouldn’t look at them like they’re chocolate cake at holiday parties.”

  “He was there with another woman. Why wouldn’t you just think I was admiring an attractive man?”

  “Your reaction to the other woman. You didn’t cause a scene or try to pull her hair out. Really I was rather impressed. Proved to me that you were maturing.”

  “I would never do that. It’s not her fault if he asked her out.”

  “That right there. Levelheaded, I can appreciate that. Truth be told, I would have caused a scene in my youth. Tables woulda been flipped and hair snatched, but time mellows, and we eventually get to the same levelheaded conclusion you have managed at such a youthful age. Of course there’s nothing wrong with a little passion.”

  “You make me sound boring.”

  “Under that fine layer of reserve, you’re not boring. What I’m telling you is a youthful scene can be overlooked. So if you’re going to let go and live a little, pull a little hair, now is the time to do it.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “See that you do. We need to go back to Millicent’s.”

  “I know.” I agreed, my stomach flipping at the thought of seeing the blackened corpse of a woman who had been a vibrant living being a few hours ago.

  “The body is gone.”

  “Wha—” I stood on my toes to try to look past Pammy. I topped her by a few inches, but she had stepped onto the entrance to the house, making it difficult to see beyond her. Sure enough past the entry way I had a clear line of sight to where Millicent’s body had sat a few hours ago.

  “Whoever set the trigger must have been alerted. We’re going in, but I need you on your toes, primed and ready. If there are any surprises, you zap first and ask questions later.”

  I nodded and followed Pammy into the house. Quietly we worked to clear the house. Not a living or dead soul occupied the house other than us. To make matters worse, the home had been scrubbed magically. It was as though nothing had occurred in the house. Once the scrub spell faded, the house wouldn’t show any recent magic. Any witches who came in the house wouldn’t even be able to tell that another witch had lived here unless they happened to go into her spell-working room.

  We finished our search by looking in the backyard. Nothing to note except for some well-placed lawn furniture and more xeriscaping. Standing there in the yard, we both looked around. At that point even some out-of-place gravel would have been an exciting clue, but it all sat neatly in the yard.

  “What are we going to do now?”

  “We are going to have a meet with the goblins.”

  Huh? I turned to look at her. “I thought this was a witch matter.” I mimicked the exact wording she’d used million times before.

  “You thought wrong. Looks like your paid gig and your pe
rsonal one have collided. Millicent was about to say the McAllisters. The goblins need to know. These creatures are more dangerous than vampires.”

  “You can’t mean that,” I said, my mouth formed an “O”.

  “Vampires are born without consciences. It’s not actually their fault that they’re psychopaths. These witches use the darkest of magics with skill and finesse, and even more frightening than that, they use it with joy. Nothing is more dangerous than that type of creature.”

  I managed to close my mouth and nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Damn right it makes sense. You need to learn to trust experience.”

  “My own as well? Because the experiences I’ve had with the vampires makes me reluctant to put something above on the being-of-darkness scale.”

  Pammy glowered at me.

  “No, I know what you’re saying, and I hear you. My family just has a particularly dark history with the vampires,” I said, referring to my aunt who had become a thrall and blood slave to the vampires for a period of time before escaping. She still suffered from what she had endured.

  “Your family has survived a lot, and I know it isn’t over yet, but let’s focus on one twisted asshole at a time. You want to call to set up the meet, or do you want me to?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “I have the personal connection, as you pointed out, though it’s not as serious as you would assume. I think you’d better do it. When you call, they know we mean business. They’d still come if I called, but it’s better if you do.”

  “Now you’re learning.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d just been given a test, but before I could make some surly reply, Pammy had her phone out and dialing. I leaned in. I didn’t want to miss a word.

  “Pammy here. Please tell Delmy I need to speak with her.” Then she hung up the phone.

  My mouth opened and closed as I just stared at Pammy. I pointed at the phone. “Did you just hang up on the goblin queen?”

  She swatted my hand away. “No, just her secretary. Delmy will call back.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  Pammy rolled her eyes. “Do you think this is the first conversation that I’ve had with Delmy? She knows I mean no disrespect, and she will call as soon as she’s able. Even the secretary knows I don’t like to be put on hold. It’s either bullshit elevator music or silence all the while I’m wishing I could be playing solitaire on my phone rather than sitting here staring into space.”

  The phone rang, causing me to jump and proving Pammy’s point.

  “Delmy, I hope you’re well. Thank you, I am also in good health. We seem to have a mutual problem. Are you available for a meet? Tomorrow morning will be fine. Deval is a suitable substitute. Peg Darrow will also be joining us since our mutual problem is in relation to the job you hired her for. Health to you and your family.”

  I wished I had enhanced hearing, so I could hear the formal muckity-muck from both ends. It just about warmed my peon heart.

  “We’re set for tomorrow.” Pammy said, returning her phone to her pocket and turning back to me. “Go home, charge yourself, and feed your cat. Try calling that friend of yours.”

  “Uh, Lola, is not really answering my calls right now.”

  “Try anyway. If she’s under their thumb, magical or otherwise; I want her to know she has help when the shit eventually hits the fan. I will speak with the goblins about a possible extraction, but I’m not sure if that will be possible because free will is important. Your friend needs to make her choices on her own.”

  “Even if those stupid choices end up killing her?”

  “I didn’t say that, but forcing her out against her will may cause her more harm than good. You saw what happened to Millicent. Our best bet would be to kill that nest of vipers. Anything they may have done to her will likely fade with their death, and even if not, it would be a hell of a lot easier to remove any dark curse they may have placed on her without constantly worrying about someone setting whatever it may be off.”

  I’d let the hurt I’d felt at Lola’s rejection hide the extent of the danger she was in under a wall of antipathy. Tears began to form in my eyes when reality finally hit me. I knew she’d been in danger, but I hadn’t been willing to acknowledge it. I tilted my head back and let out a sniffle.

  “None of that now. I know you were ostriching the worst of it, but you will do everything in your power to help her. Put aside the rejection and remember the girl who would walk into a vampire den with you. She’s still there. She’s just confused. Life hasn’t been easy on Lola, and a friend from her former life, the life where her parents were alive, is a hard thing to shake off. Deep down she knows something is wrong, and she’ll protect herself when the time comes. Or I will. Or you will.”

  I sniffed again getting my emotions under control. Shockingly enough, in the past I rarely cried, but the last few weeks had been a big adjustment, and the shit storm wouldn’t seem to stop. A shiver ran through my body. I was at a point where I could walk away from all of this. I might not be able to get job as a teacher due to discrimination, but I could get some menial job. A hard day’s work was satisfying, whether it was scrubbing toilets or fighting off serial killers, but I wasn’t ready to admit defeat, and the way Pammy looked at me right now, like I had something to offer, had me squaring my shoulders, ready to save Lola and kill some drainers.

  12

  Pammy sent me home to get some sleep though the fact that she’d also bought me a large latte for the road suggested she didn’t really think I’d be getting much, or she realized the extent of my caffeine tolerance because I slept like a baby. The numbers on my clock even indicated that I’d managed a full eight. Not too shocking when I noticed the soft lavender glow of magic surrounding my bed. George apparently thought I needed rest.

  I’d called Lola about a dozen times, leaving voicemails that ranged from angry to cajoling, and even included me making up a song about Cheddar for her enjoyment, though the ditty may have actually dissuaded her. No, the girl I knew would enjoy a jaunty tune about a large orange cat that ate a wheel of cheese for daring to have the same name as him. I checked my phone when I woke up from my assisted slumber. Not a peep.

  Defeat on that front, I showered and dressed. A pair of dark slim-fit jeans with enough elastic in them to be form fitting without making me constantly wonder when I could trade them out for yoga pants, a burnt-orange sweater, and flat ankle boots made up my ensemble. My hair blow dried into a large halo of curls and makeup applied, I felt a brief moment of control. When everything was wrong, dressing like you meant business helped. At least it did for me.

  The meet was scheduled for nine a.m. at Bump and Grind. I’d begun to suspect Pammy was at least a partial owner of the establishment. I don’t know why that hadn’t occurred to me before. At the very minimum, the woman paid their electric bill. I arrived fifteen minutes early. Pammy was in her usual spot. Her people had already been relocated to a table across the room. I waved at them. Startled, only two waved back. I’d been dismissive of them in the past, thinking they were just groupies and boot lickers. Maybe they were, but they were witches, and frankly I’d started to realize why they flocked to the woman currently sitting of a sofa sipping a frothy concoction. She’d earned our respect.

  I purchased another frothy concoction for myself and went to join her. Normally I’d leave her with the couch to herself, but she scooted over. The only time she’d ever had me sit with her was during a meet with the vampires. Apparently during inter-species meetings, we sat together. I liked it.

  “Dorothy,” she called out and gestured to a middle-aged woman who sat at the table, one of the women who’d waved back. Sitting, the joiner looked rather harmless in a faded floral button up, her graying black hair in a French twist. As she walked over, I noticed her stride. She walked confidently, with a purpose. Her stance was remarkably similar Griselda’s as a matter of fact.

  “Dorothy, Peg, Peg, Dorothy.” Pammy introduced us.r />
  “Nice to meet you.” I stood up from my place of honor and shook her hand.

  “Likewise, I’ve seen you around.”

  I nodded. I had seen her, but just not really seen her until now.

  “Dorothy is also a fortune. I asked her to come today.”

  I smiled. “With this group, the more the merrier.”

  “Can’t blame you there. I’m semi-retired, but when Pammy said there were drainers in town, I knew I couldn’t sit this one out.” She’d lowered her voice at the word drainers. No need to cause a panic and all that.

  Before we could delve further into the situation, Deval walked in. A hush fell over the room, or maybe that was just in my head as the blood rushed to my ears. He’d decided formal as well, even if his formal was a fitted gray suit and mine was a sweater instead of a t-shirt and closed-toe shoes. He strode over to us, his eyes resting on mine for a moment before turning to Pammy. The small spark of heat in my stomach quickly cooled when I remembered his earlier behavior. I planted what I hoped was a professional facade on my face and took my seat next to Pammy.

  “Ladies, thank you for the invite. It’s a privilege.” He nodded at each of us in turn.

  “Please sit, Deval.” Pammy gestured to the wingback chair that had been set across from the sofa.

  “My mother mentioned that the affair we hired Peg for has taken an unexpected turn.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I muttered.

  Pammy held her hand up, silencing me. “It appears that the family that blackmailed Millicent into setting the scrying spell is also a family responsible for unspeakable acts against the witches. They are also the ones who set magic against your cousin.”

  “What are the witches doing to remedy this problem?” Deval asked, the personal side I had begun to know hidden firmly behind a stoic mask.

  “We will take care of our own problems,” Pammy snapped, clearly annoyed at the implication.