Heaven Sent (Lupine Bay Book 1)

by Maribel Fox

  With no crowd to disappear in, and no way to pretend this didn’t just happen, I just gotta bite the bullet and march forward. Mostly looking at Seamus, though I’ve got Micah in my peripheral — that sexy blonde too. She’s getting more of my attention than she should, all things considered.

  “Dude, what the hell?” I hiss.

  But ignoring Micah doesn’t go over well. Nor should it.

  “Kushiel… You’re alive? But how?” he says, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around. Seeing Micah again yanks at something deep inside, guilt consuming me.

  I’ve done a pretty good job of forgetting about feelings like that. Knowing that I did the right thing and it was the only solution I had. But damned if being faced with the outcome of that choice doesn’t still suck. A lot.

  His eyes lock on mine and the grip he has on my shoulder is so tight he could probably break the clavicle of someone without the divine trait. As it is, I’m pretty sure he’s still gonna leave me with a hell of a bruise. But I can see in his eyes — flashing topaz with emotional turmoil — that he doesn’t realize what he’s doing. He’s reacting on raw emotion.

  “Is it really you?”

  “It is,” I say, gingerly peeling his fingers off me, each one pinched like a crab’s claw.

  “They told me—”

  “I don’t know what they told you, man. But we’ll talk about it later, yeah?”

  He’s still looking at me with that stunned look, and I get it. Micah and I weren’t just partners for all those years. We were best friends — brothers, even. I don’t imagine he took the news of my ‘death’ any better than I’d take the news of his.

  There’s a lot to sort through there, but not until I get to the bottom of what this tricksy Fae is after.

  I managed to pull away from Micah and give Raj a passing head nod.

  “Bali Raj, back with the dirtwalkers?”

  “For now,” he says, giving me a sly smile. Never know what that guy’s up to. Most the time I think I’m better off not knowing. Back in my auditing days, the info he gave me… Let’s just say I’m glad part of the ‘confidentiality’ in confidential informant was that I didn’t have to ask him about his methods. It always proved credible so there was no need to test him.

  His answer doesn’t give anything away though and seeing these three guys in the same place — all of them waiting for me — feels like an ambush I’m woefully under-prepared for.

  Point in my favor: Micah and Raj seem just as taken aback by my appearance. Only Seamus isn’t surprised. Always keeping things close to the vest. Wonder if he tricked them here somehow too?

  “What the hell are you up to leprechaun?” I ask, using a term I know he hates. Fae are very particular about their names. “Is there even any treasure?”

  Seamus looks legitimately upset when he shakes his head. “’Fraid not. To my knowledge, there’s not a sunken ship laden with riches in the depths of the bay. I called for assistance with that one,” he says, hooking his thumb toward Micah. “He’s been driving me batty, he has. Says he’s not leaving me be till I answers his questions. I’ve got no answers says I. Not good enough, he says. He says he knows I’m up to something.”

  That all sounds about right to me. I sigh, folding my arms. “Are you up to something?”

  Seamus laughs and drinks what I’m guessing is whiskey since that’s the only thing I know that’s able to get him plastered. Something about his kind of magic, beer keeps him going like water, has no intoxicating effect on him — not something he lets slip to just anyone mind you. Pretty sure he was horrified when he realized I knew. His reaction was enough that I keep it to myself. I think Seamus likes people thinking he’s a drunkard. I think he likes that it makes them underestimate him.

  He might be forgetting that I’m not one of them. I know him better than that; I know him well enough to take him seriously because I know how hella dangerous this guy is. Other people might be fooled by the cheerful drunk with the charming accent, but this guy is deadly, and I’m not letting my guard down again. Not now that he’s shown a willingness to throw me to the wolves.

  The girl behind the bar refills Seamus’s glass without him asking, and as he downs another drink, I see the Irish flush creeping up his neck, making his cheeks burn.

  “Well?” I prompt, knowing Micah’s patience is probably wearing thin waiting for me to address him again.

  Seamus shrugs. “How the hell am I to know?”

  Raj snorts and then tries to cover it up by clearing his throat, but he’s not fooling anyone.

  “You know that’s likely the truth,” Raj says to his defense. “We’ve both known Seamus long enough.”

  I turn to Micah, then look back around at everyone else.

  “So, what am I, like intermediary?”

  “Summat like that, sure, sure,” Seamus says.

  I groan. “Who do I talk to about getting a room?”

  “You’re staying?” Seamus asks, grinning.

  “Well, I’m here now and missing the best waves of this decade, so I guess so, yeah.”

  Raj looks at the blonde. “Ava?”

  The woman — Ava, apparently — throws up her hands with a huff and marches out of the bar toward the B&B.

  French door still swinging in her wake, Seamus turns to me and says, “You’ll be wantin’ to follow her.”

  Don’t mind if I do…

  9

  Ava

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re very upset,” I mutter to the scurrying spider that stops halfway up the exterior of the house to menace me with a threat-dance. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your house. Unfortunately, your house is attached to my house, and you see… My needs trump yours,” I grunt, ripping out another tangle of weeds.

  I didn’t come out here intending to disturb spiders cloistered in the dark corners of the house, but once you start pulling overgrown weeds, there’s way less of those dark corners for them to hide in.

  It’s the perfect kind of day to be out here pulling weeds — even if it is one of my least favorite things to do. I don’t particularly mind yard work as a whole. Trimming hedges, or mowing the lawn, even planting something new, are all instant gratification chores. You commit an hour or two to them, and then the fruits of your labor are on display without having to wait.

  And it’s not that pulling weeds doesn’t have the instant effect. It definitely does. It’s just that the instant effect is… sad. At the end of all this I’ll have a pile of dead plants for composting and a bunch of bare dirt to cover with mulch before the weeds make a comeback.

  I know it’s not really right, but I don’t actually mind weeds. I kind of admire their resilience. The way they seem to be able to grow — not only grow, but thrive — in any and all conditions. They might not be as pretty or desirable as some other plants, but they’re tough as hell.

  Even I’m having trouble ripping some of these roots out, planting my feet in the grass and tugging with both hands.

  “Come on, you stubborn—oof.” The roots give way and I go tumbling backwards. But instead of landing ass-first on the ground, I stumble back into a solid mass of man.

  The scent of the forest tells me who it is before I turn around, and Seamus is quickly setting me back on my feet.

  “Uh… Hi,” he says, rubbing the back of his head, looking kind of bashful, actually. I toss the weed in my hand onto the pile with the others.

  “Hi.”

  “Ava… You’ve got to know how bleedin’ awful I feel about all this attention I’ve brang here with me.”

  I frown. “You… It’s not all your fault. And it’s not all bad.” Even though Kushiel’s arrival a couple of days ago was dramatic, I haven’t heard anything more about it. All four guests have been paying their bills regularly, so who am I to complain? The B&B is in a better financial position than it has been in a while, but it’s going to take more than a couple of weeks to dig us out of the hole we’re in.

  “Mind if I join ye?” he ask
s, gesturing to the dirt. Other than him being a guest, I don’t have a reason to deny him, and that hardly seems enough.

  “Sure.”

  We both start plucking weeds from the earth, working silently for a little while. I can tell there’s something on his mind. He’s looking for an opening, trying to bring something up, and I’m close to just asking him what it is. I’ve spent enough time with little brothers and scheming best friends to know when someone’s dancing around something with me. And I don’t appreciate it.

  I do appreciate the help weeding. I guess as long as he’s working, he can stay.

  “What ever happened with your folks?” Seamus asks after a long time. I’d pretty much given up on him ever bringing up whatever was on his mind, but if that’s it, then I’m more confused than ever. Why would that be a taboo subject? Other than the obvious fact that it might be painful I guess.

  Seamus is a more sensitive guy than I give him credit for.

  “Never knew my dad,” I say, grunting and pulling free another dandelion. “Our mom died a few years ago.”

  “My condolences,” he says, making my throat tighten. It’s funny what things people say and do that make you have a sudden reaction. I didn’t feel teary at all thinking about my mom until he said that. Now I feel like I might be on the verge of crying.

  Keep it together, Ava, I tell myself.

  “Yeah, it was hard. Kind of lucky timing in a way, I guess though?” I chuckle softly, no real humor in the subject. “I’d just turned eighteen, so there was no custody battle in the court over Ian. And I’ve been running the B&B and bar ever since.”

  Memories surrounding my mom’s death are all still kind of a blur. Some people — mainly Alistair and Rue — have tried to tell me that I’m blocking out a painful memory, that trauma can do that.

  But there’s more to it than that. When I try to think about that night, I feel sick. Like every cell in my body is trying to keep me from going back there. And the memories from before aren’t much better. It’s like three years ago, I woke up and everything that happened before is in this dreamland where I can’t quite remember or access it.

  “Small miracles,” Seamus says, looking more thoughtful than I think I’ve ever seen him.

  “Dude! There you are,” Kushiel cries, jogging around from the front of the house, eyes homed in on Seamus.

  Kushiel is different from the other three. Where they’re all clearly crazy and off their meds, Kushiel seems the most normal. He talks like a bad Californian stereotype, but it somehow works with his whole beach bum vibe. He’s tan and lean, with wavy sun-kissed blond hair. He’s got an easy smile and an aura like a golden retriever. Just pure goodness wrapped in the smell of the ocean.

  Not sure why I should have any objection at this point to adding another to my list of guys I inappropriately fantasize about. A list that exclusively contains the names of men staying at my B&B currently. It’s a strange time in my life, okay?

  “Micah was telling me about some boiling drink trick you pulled on him. Can you teach it to me? Or is it some bogus Fae magic I won’t be able to do?”

  Seamus shakes his head. “Nah, my own magic it’s not. Comes from the sword.”

  “What sword?” Kushiel asks.

  “Don’t ask—” I start, but it’s too late. Seamus is already pulling the sword out of nowhere — seriously, where is he keeping that thing? Sleight of hand is one thing, but I don’t even see any place to hide a sword on his person. He’s good.

  “Here,” Seamus says, passing the sword over to Kushiel. “Point at something and think hot thoughts.”

  I snort, shaking my head. Ridiculous. Surely Kushiel’s not going to fall for this. Surely, he’s going to realize that Seamus is tugging his leg.

  He hefts the sword and points at the pile of weeds, eyes narrowing.

  Of course, nothing happens.

  “Hotter thoughts, mate,” Seamus says.

  “Come on, stop teasing him,” I laugh, turning to Kushiel to explain. “He does these silly magic tricks to impress people.”

  “That right?” Kushiel asks, a lazy grin spreading his face. “Don’t think it’s gonna work for me,” he says, tossing the sword back to Seamus, who catches it, both acting far too casual to be handling a deadly weapon like it’s a tennis ball.

  Seamus holds the sword and turns it in his hand. It glows faintly without him seeming to struggle or put any effort into it.

  “Mayhaps I’ve had it long enough to attune it,” he says, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, or maybe it’s just a Fae artifact,” Kushiel says, tone cajoling like he’s said this a few times. “You guys usually put nifty little spells on your magic toys to keep them out of the hands of the other factions. It’s still a sword either way, but not as fancy without its tricks.”

  “Ava,” Seamus says, turning to me. I’m surprised to hear my name, so confused with this weird bit of theater they’re putting on for me that I kind of forget where I am.

  “What?”

  “Would you like to give it a go? We could use a human testing it,” he says, his eyes bright, tempting.

  I lick my lips and look at the sword. Why does it feel like he’s asking me for something way bigger? Why does it feel like my answer here is going to determine what happens with us moving forward? Maybe with all of us as weird as that sounds.

  But nothing’s going to happen. It’s a gimmicky trick. A sword that has some kind of microwave signal in it or something. The idea that it could be anything else…

  “You say that like you’re not human yourselves,” I say, voice quivering even though I’m trying to keep it strong.

  “We’re not,” says Kushiel.

  All their talk of Devils and Angels, Fae and magic, it makes my head spin. It’s all just code for something. It’s not— It can’t be.

  A hot spike pierces through my temple, shoving away those thoughts. The memory of fire licking at me, burning me, smoke blocking out everything. Fire consuming all. Destroying. A fire created by my—

  No. Magic isn’t real. It can’t be. There’s a reasonable explanation for all of this.

  “You want me to handle your sword?” I ask, injecting skepticism and innuendo in my tone. Seamus laughs, Kushiel joins in pretty quick too. Kushiel leans in a little closer, blue eyes glittering mischievously.

  “What’s wrong, Ava? Afraid you might get burned?” he asks, voice smooth as caramel. With the two of them here, both looking at me expectantly, both pressuring me, both making me feel breathless, dizzy, dry in the mouth…

  “Fine, give it here,” I grumble, reaching over and taking the sword by the hilt. The moment it’s in my hand, the whole thing starts singing — that’s the only real word for the noise it makes, though it’s not a pleasant ditty. It’s an eerie, otherworldly melody that goes straight to my bones. And then the blade bursts into flame. Like I dunked it in gasoline. It’s such a shock that I throw it away from me with a yelp. Seamus and Kushiel are both still looking at me, but I can’t tell if they understand anything more about what just happened than I do.

  I’m not sticking around to find out though. This is too much. This is too weird. I’ve gotta get out of here. Away from these guys. Away from this unsettling feeling brewing deep inside. It’s getting stronger, more insistent, and I don’t even have a name for it.

  It’s all so crazy. I don’t know what to do, where to turn. And it’s in times like these that there’s only one place to turn: Bathory Antiquities.

  Running to Alistair isn’t going to fix all my problems, but he never fails to put them in perspective. Right now, I’ll take what I can get.

  10

  Raj

  The front door of the otherwise quiet little shop slams open like a gust of wind has caught it, and I look up from the book in my hands. Back in the rear of this antiquities shop, I can normally count on being left alone. On finding some peace and quiet.

  It was a chance discovery. It didn't take much time of me
hanging out with Ava at The Shamrock to realize that her ‘old family friend’ is a vampire — and not a young one. I don't think she knows, and I haven't found the chance to tell her — that along with so many other things she needs to know but probably isn't ready for.

  But learning that one of Ava's closest confidantes is a secret vampire set me on alert. I did the only thing I know how to do — I assessed the situation to make sure he's not a threat to Ava.

  Why I care about Ava's well-being is another matter entirely. She's no one to me. A mere human. I'm here only to find out what Seamus is up to, and that's not proving very fruitful at the moment.

  Having the Angel around hasn't helped matters. Any chance I might have had at cornering Seamus and getting him to talk went out the window when Micah appeared and decided it was his mission to chase the Fae around every square meter of Lupine Bay.

  Regardless of why I wanted to make sure Ava's safe, her friend Alistair assured me that he was a close friend of Ava's mother and would never let any harm come to Brigid's children. It's enough for me. Most people have trouble taking the word of a Vamp at face value, but being a Devil gives me a bit of a different perspective, I have to say. Vampires are nowhere near the least trustworthy types I associate with on a regular basis.

  Besides, he's got a lovely little shop here, full of all kinds of goodies from around the world, across time periods. It's cramped, stuffed to the brim with things hanging and displayed everywhere. It's part shop, part museum, and all cozy if you're asking me. The dim glow from incandescent sconces reminds me of dungeons of old.

  Probably not surprising that the two of us have similar tastes in decor considering our backgrounds.

  All that said, the gust of air from the slamming door ruffles the pages of my book, and though there are curio cabinets blocking my direct line of sight, the over-sweet scent of honey tells me who it is long before she comes stomping through the store.

  Ava.