Cursed Lines (A Peg Darrow Novel Book 2)

by Camille Douglass

  It had been meditative at first, but the longer I sat there, the more I began to stew in my own fear. The only answer to fear was to do something to combat it. I pulled out my phone and texted Deval. He hadn’t said he’d be checking into Gregar’s friendship with the blond male witch, but if I knew him, which I thought I did, then I suspected that he’d be tracking Gregar down to grill him. I texted him to ask if he had any updates.

  I hadn’t thought that he would actually answer, given the cold shoulder I’d been on the receiving end of recently, but thirty seconds later I had a text and a location. He hadn’t had the chance, but Gregar was known to frequent a certain cigar bar in Scottsdale if I wanted to give it a go. I sat and stared at the message, feeling warm and fuzzy for a moment. Had Deval really just responded to me instantly and told me to go chase the bad guy on my own? His belief in me cut the fear like a knife.

  I stood to leave but remembered that Lola could come home at any time with one of the family. I didn’t want her to be alone if she did, despite her protests, so I called Bruce and offered him the use of an armchair for the night. You’d think I’d offered him a night’s stay at a resort in Scottsdale with his chipper response. He just needed to feed his dogs and then he’d make the trek.

  Instead of sitting in the darkness with my own morbid thoughts while I waited for him, I decided to make use of the extravagantly large television that Lola had hidden in an armoire. After all I needed to find Bruce a chick flick so he wouldn’t feel out of place. By the time he pulled his F-250 pickup into the parking lot, which I heard because the engine’s rumble rivaled that of my own Jeep, though of course my Jeep was vintage so I had an excuse, I had found a rerun of the First Wives’ Club that had just begun.

  Bruce rang the bell, and I let him in. He gave me a ridiculously good hug. He smelled like horses, hay, and dirt. He entered the living room and saw what I’d put on for him.

  “I’d be annoyed at your presumptions, but damn if I don’t love me some Bette.”

  “You and me both, buddy.”

  He took off his boots and settled into the chair, feet up. “You got some work to do, don’t you? Shoo.” He waved his hands at me.

  I hesitated briefly. “You sure you don’t mind waiting? I don’t actually think she’ll be back tonight. I’m just worried.”

  “I wouldn’t want to leave her alone either now that we’re officially staging an intervention. Even if she ain’t back tonight, I’m going to eat her food and watch her TV. Mine’s on the fritz, and I need to go to the library to restock my pile.” The pile he referred to were the ten or so library books always strewn about his house.

  “All right, you sure?”

  “I said ‘shoo,’ and I mean ‘shoo.’ Get out.” He leaned forward and pelted me with one of the throw pillows that previously adorned his chair.

  I knew when I wasn’t wanted.

  15

  I valeted and walked up to the cigar bar Deval had sent me the address to. Martin’s was a one-story building with mid-century architecture and old school neon lights, which reminded me of something fifties-era gangsters or the rat pack would frequent. I’d never changed, and the bouncer scrutinized my attire but let me in with a grunt that suggested I’d barely passed muster. These male-dominated clubs usually sought out women patrons for men to hit on when they realized that all the ogling wasn’t going to get them a number from their server or bartender. It was not like I was wearing a T-shirt and flip-flops, but compared to the women walking around in short dresses and even higher heels, my fitted sweater, jeans, and boots made me appear a bit matronly.

  Inside the cigar bar, it was, shockingly enough, smoky. All the expensive air ducts and ventilators in the world couldn’t compete with a hundred people furiously lighting up at once. I let out a small cough and scanned the room. Blue lights over the stage that a jazz quartet played on hit the smoke, giving the illusion of blue wisps flitting to and fro. The band was good, but I didn’t feel like mingling.

  From his reputation and our brief introduction, I’d assumed that Gregar would be front and center, so after scanning the room for a few minutes I finally looked to the darker corners and found him stashed in a velvet booth. Huh. I cringed to think at what it cost to clean their upholstery on a regular basis. I approached the booth. Unlike my meet with Vegard, I didn’t feel the need to attempt an act because I wasn’t here to ask him about the theft of the safe. I’d stay on witch topics, and he’d be none the wiser that we’d found the connection.

  He sprawled along the back of the three-sided booth. In front of him sat a half-empty bottle of scotch. I assumed it was expensive, but for all I knew about scotch, it could be total garbage. His eyes were hazy, likely from the half-empty bottle, as he watched the band. He didn’t notice me approach until I sat in the booth right next to me. He turned to stare at me.

  “Hiya,” I greeted as peppy as a cheerleader at homecoming.

  His brows furrowed, “I’ve met you before.”

  “You sure have.” I extended my hand. “Peg Darrow, Soldier of Fortune, Survivor of Reaper, Beloved of Vampires.” That last part was on a whim but did make me sound more dangerous.

  “So you’re a blood whore.”

  Well, that backfired. “I said Beloved. The feeling isn’t mutual. So what are you up to, Gregar?”

  “Trying to enjoy my solitude.”

  “Solitude is better suited for less popular locations. If you’re going to attempt to go full hermit, why not find a lovely English garden with a cave?”

  “Sometimes you can be alone while surrounded by people.”

  “How emo of you.”

  “Emo?”

  “Never mind.” I wasn’t in the mood to discuss the varying subcultures if he hadn’t bothered to stay hip with the kids.

  “Well, fortune, I am not sure as to why you have approached me. You’re an attractive enough woman, but I am not interested in witches.”

  “Try to contain your ego.” I’d almost said ‘how about witchlins’ but held back. Pammy and Delmy seemed to want to keep that little bit of info under hat for now. Still, the intended offense was taken.

  “Preference is not ego.”

  “No, your preference is bigoted. Your assumption that I had any interest in you whatsoever was ego, so let me disillusion you. I’m not interested in you either. Attractive enough but I’m not interested in assholes,” I threw his own words back in his face.

  “Rumor has it you’ve been seeing my cousin, so we both know that’s not true.”

  “Fine, I don’t mind occasional asshole tendencies, but the all asshole all the time thing doesn’t work for me.” Peg Darrow, master wordsmith.

  He took a sip of his scotch, clearly unbothered by assessment. “So you are dating him.”

  “No, I’m not, and I didn’t come here to talk to you about relationship gossip.”

  “I’m not sure why I haven’t had security remove you yet.”

  I wasn’t either. “I’m the kind of obnoxious that people find endearing.” I supplied helpfully.

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “At this point, it’s all I’ve got, but I do need to speak with you regarding a witch you may have known twenty years ago.”

  “Twenty years is a long time.”

  “It is.”

  I prepared for him to finally kick me out, but instead he waved down a waitress. “Please get the lady a drink.”

  The young woman, who obviously had won the genetic lottery with her lithe body on display in a tight black dress that barely covered her lady bits, smiled down at me.

  “Shirley Temple, please.”

  Her smile grew wider at my childish order, but she didn’t comment and sashayed away from the table.

  “Did you really just order a Shirley Temple? Money is not an object. Get a thirty-year-old scotch for all I care.” Goblins liked displaying wealth. It was part of their power source, and they liked to feel powerful.

  “Gregar, normally I’d take
you up on that offer, not in the scotch family but certainly a nice tequila, but I’m working, and who doesn’t love s Shirley Temple?”

  He didn’t respond and instead pulled a cigar case out of his pocket, chose a cigar, clipped the end, and lit up with one of those torch lighters. His smoke now mixing with the other patrons’ added a woodsy, spicy scent to the mix. I sneezed.

  “Gesundheit.”

  “Thank you. So, why I’m here.”

  “Yes, yes, a witch I may or may have not known twenty years ago. Male or female?”

  “Male.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Blonde, handsome.”

  “Not much of a description.”

  “Did you know a lot of blond witches twenty years ago? I was under the impression you didn’t associate with us much.”

  The waitress reappeared and dropped off my drink, asking if we needed anything else. Gregar sent her on her way. I sipped on the concoction that was all sugar and waited for a reply.

  “You’re right; I don’t associate with witches much, and frankly I’m not sure why I’m associating now. Nothing but trouble the lot of you.”

  “We’re just people,” I countered.

  “You’re people who couldn’t control your own. I suspect this has to do with your matriarchal society. Can’t keep a secret.”

  “Your own monarch is a woman. Would you say this to Delmy?” I barely contained an eye roll.

  “Delmy is my aunt. I would tell her the same.”

  “Familial relationship aside, we both know that means “no,” you haven’t. If you’re so sure a king is better than a queen, why not rise up and put your money on the line.” Peg Darrow, treason instigator.

  “Again, speaking like a woman. These things are not so simple as that. There is a certain finesse to politics that you will never understand.”

  “Like paying a witch to have a scry spell set to spy on your cousin? Is that how a ‘man’ finesses politics? Seems cowardly to me and a touch juvenile, but being a woman a couple of centuries your junior, what could I possibly know?”

  Any pretense at civility ended there. His skin reddened, which with the slight gray undertone the goblins sported, looked more purple. “How dare you!” He sputtered.

  “I noticed that you didn’t deny it. Is that another chapter in your misogynist playbook? When confronted by a woman, act outraged to avoid admitting what you’ve done. Your little friends didn’t just set the scry. They’ve murdered a witch from the Arizona covens and left booby traps all over a rental home. You talk about our secrets being revealed and criticize us, but your recklessness could just as easily cause the same. The witches were outed over human murders. If some kids had gone in to hang out in the abandoned house and had been killed in those traps do you truly believe the witches would be willing to shoulder all the blame?”

  “Like you said, witches set the traps. This has nothing to do with me or my people.”

  “Not your people no, but you; you invited them here. I’m sure you welcomed them with open arms, knowing what they could accomplish for you. It only took one witch using dark magic to reveal our kind to the entire world after centuries of secret. It’s a modern age, it would be even easier for you to be outed now.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “You’ve threatened yourself with your own stupidity. So, I’ll ask again. Did you know a male witch from two decades ago? He goes by Michael McAllister.”

  He rose abruptly and would have knocked over the bottle of scotch if I hadn’t stopped it from teetering over. Stubbing out his cigar, he shuffled awkwardly out of the booth. I waited until he was clear of the booth before standing to follow him. The waitress approached him.

  “What? Just put it on my tab,” he snarled when she tried to collect on his bill.

  “An automatic gratuity will be added if I do that.”

  “I don’t care.” He brushed past her.

  No doubt she’d been hoping for something a little more than the standard twenty percent. If I’d had to deal with him, I’d want more, too. I gave her an apologetic look and scurried behind him. He didn’t even realize I’d followed him until we were about ten yards into the parking lot.

  He turned, his arm swinging to hit me with a right hook. I ducked, missing his hammy fist. I stepped into him, kneed him in the groin before placing my right booted foot behind and pushing him.

  He landed on his back in the middle of the parking lot. The takedown would not have been so easy if he hadn’t handicapped himself by drinking so heavily. He rolled around for the moment, clearly trying to compose himself as much as a grown man who’d resorted to physical violence and instead been kicked in the nards could.

  “So, you know the McAllisters, we already know that. What we don’t know is where they are right now. Your little game with them is over, but my game has just begun. Please be so kind as to tell me what you know. I’m just a witch, but I’d be happy to call Delmy, then you can tell her what you really think and finally fight for what you falsely believe should be yours instead of scurrying around in the dark like a rat, letting us weak witches do your dirty work.”

  The look of hatred on his face as he struggled to roll over and stand up let me know that I’d made an enemy for life. I was okay with that. He managed to stagger to his feet when a bouncer approached us.

  “You guys can’t be fighting in the parking lot.”

  “Of course not, he fell,” I responded.

  “Fell right after he took a swing at you and you kicked him in the balls. I admire your moves lady, but I can’t have that in our parking lot.”

  “Oh, that just some stage combat. You’d never believe we were a couple of theater geeks, would you?” I put on a bright smile that didn’t fool anyone.

  Gregar was bent over at the waist, hands on knees, taking deep breaths.

  “Listen, lady, I’m not a moron. I’m not calling the cops so long as you and this guy get out of here. He may be a regular, but he knows the rules. You got to get.”

  “We’re getting. Give us two minutes to compose ourselves.”

  The guard turned away reluctantly but walked back up to the entrance where another bouncer waited as backup. I turned back to Gregar.

  “Tell me what you know.”

  He stood straight up, his eyes flashing with anger as he jammed a finger at me. “I don’t know any witches. Even if I did, I would never help you. So you and the other trailer trash can go back to hiding in whatever dump you crawled out of.” Spittle had flown out of his mouth as he stressed his words. He turned suddenly and marched to the road where he hailed a taxi and got in.

  That solved one problem. I’d been concerned I’d have to call on the bouncer to help me confiscate his keys. He thought he’d given me nothing, but I didn’t live in a trailer, and I didn’t know many witches who did besides Millicent in her youth. Some others here and there because you couldn’t beat the pricing, but he’d told me to crawl back in my trailer as if that were the most common thing. I knew where to look for the family.

  16

  Leaving the cigar bar, I felt like we finally were on to something. I also felt suddenly underprepared. We knew that the family targeted the weak and were unafraid of using spells and curses that would send a normal witch into hives at the possibility of the blowback. I’d known some darker practitioners in my day, but frankly, their practice was theirs and mine was mine. Never in all of the more extreme witches I had met would they have sunk to these depths of deprivation.

  Armed with uncertainty, I wished that Alice was still in town instead of gallivanting around, leading Fane on a merry chase. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but be grateful that she distracted him at the moment because the last thing I needed to be added to my plate was my vampire stalker. A light bulb moment hit as I remembered that while Alice may not be physically present her library was.

  I considered calling Alice, but all I had was her home number. So I called her friend and confidant ins
tead.

  “What you got?” Pammy answered on the first ring.

  “A possible location of where the family may be hiding.”

  “That’s good.” Her voice practically purred.

  “Yes and no. Gregar let it slip that the family was trailer trash in his mind, so I’m thinking RV Park or manufactured home lots.”

  “Well, that is looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  Arizona’s dry weather meant that there were more than a few of these locations as withstanding tumultuous weather wasn’t necessary in most of our state unless you counted one hundred twenty degree weather as tumultuous.

  “Yeah, but it’s a place to start. Remember Millicent said they were in her childhood home. We could start there.”

  “Good idea. You ready to lead the troops on this one?”

  “Actually I had another idea.”

  “What’s this idea?”

  “We don’t know enough.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We know it’s a family but the only two that we’ve actually met are Michael and you met his mother. We don’t know how many of them there are. We don’t know the extent of their power or how the draining actually works since none of us are practitioners. I would really like access to Alice’s library. A family like that, practically an urban legend, would have things written about them.”

  “Fair point. Let me make a call.”

  I was already in Tempe and didn’t want to start heading east if I’d be heading west in a moment, so I pulled into a gas station and topped off the Jeep and got a jumbo diet Pepsi. Never could deny myself a fountain drink. Still waiting, I called Bruce to see if he had any updates. He didn’t, but he was still watching TV. First Wives’ Club had ended, and something that sounded suspiciously like Fried Green Tomatoes played in the background. He was keeping to a theme.