by Shona Husk
He had the Kilpatrick name to live up to.
He got off the subway and walked up the sidewalk. He had a car bay beneath the building but he rarely used it; getting through New York traffic was a nightmare even magic couldn’t solve. A raven sat on the bench and watched him as he walked by.
Peyton gave it a nod out of respect for the Morrigu, the goddess he was sworn to serve because of an ancient battleground agreement. He was barely a witch and less of a warrior. The Morrigu could do better than him. Every muscle in his back protested the movement of his head. He’d spent far too much time getting knocked onto his back. He had bruises on his shin from where the Jo had collided with bone. It was hard to avoid four feet of wooden pole when he was so out of practice, and Noah had a swing that betrayed his days of playing baseball. Pitcher my ass. Noah should’ve been a hitter. If the weekend had proven anything it was that he didn’t spar with his fellow witches often enough. He only turned up when called and they only called when they really needed him. He needed to make more of an effort.
The raven cawed its agreement.
The contract for the man who was selling his soul for fame was watertight and would be signed in blood tonight at the coven. As much as Peyton didn’t like those kind of deals, if someone wanted to sell their soul he couldn’t stop them, he could only make sure that the deal was fair and written so the deity couldn’t take the soul and not fulfill their end of the bargain. There was nothing more slippery than a god hungry for worship.
The raven followed him down the road and landed on the edge of a trash can a few feet in front of him. It tilted its head and squawked at him.
Peyton stopped and pulled out his cell phone. He didn’t care about the phone. He didn’t want to look like an idiot talking to a bird. “What do you want?”
The raven ruffled its feathers, more interested in scratching under its wing than giving him answers.
“Fine.” The Morrigu was a bitch of a goddess, so much so She’d take that as a compliment. He walked on. The bird followed.
He gritted his teeth. Something was up if She’d sent a messenger to get his attention. Why him when there were other, better witches She could call on?
The answer became clear when he reached the office. On the step of Kilpatrick, Frost and MacDonnell was a fat blue-grey cat. The raven settled onto the bottom step. The cat sat on the top step as if it owned the building. The cat glared at the raven but didn’t attack. It didn’t even hiss the way a cat should.
It wasn’t even eight and his day was already getting weird. If it was demons, he was going to get Noah out of bed and down there to sort this shit out. Maybe it was a cursed object that attracted cats. That would make it Sawyer’s problem. His phone was still in his hand, he could call Mason and Mason would hand out the work to someone who knew what they were doing. Mason handed out the magical cases, as well as the nonmagical ones that kept the business and coven afloat. Peyton tithed so he contributed a fair share to the running.
He pulled up Mason’s number. The raven croaked and flapped its wings but didn’t go anywhere.
“Oh, come on. We both know I’m not the man for the job.”
Given the way the raven was staring up at him, Peyton suspected that it was firmly his problem and the Morrigu didn’t want to hear his bullshit. If She hadn’t hamstrung his magic he might have been more inclined to do Her bidding with a little more enthusiasm.
“Why do you care about a stray cat?”
The cat hissed at him.
He was a lawyer first, not a witch. His father had drilled that into him from an early age. Like him, his father had never been a frequent visitor to the coven. He’d never been one of the Morrigu’s favorites. As punishment and to make sure the Kilpatricks stepped up their witch game, Peyton had been given an abundance of magic that had shown up very early. His first blood spell had been at age six, much to the horror of his father who’d been magically forced to tell the truth about banging the nanny to his wife. His father had never trusted him after that.
The raven attacked the edge of his pant leg, tugging at the fabric like it wanted him to do something now. Peyton was tempted to shake his leg but didn’t. This wasn’t a regular raven, it had been sent by the Morrigu. That he couldn’t figure it out only proved what he already knew: he was a lousy witch despite his natural abilities.
That was Her fault, not his.
What the cat was there for he had no idea.
The cat licked its lips and stretched, then moseyed down the steps like it didn’t have a care in the world. Where it had been sitting was a pink collar. Peyton glanced at the cat sauntering down the sidewalk then picked up the collar. “And what am I supposed to do with this?”
The raven shook itself and a glossy blue-black feather landed on the concrete. Peyton picked that up too, wincing as he stood, and put both in his pocket. He was going to have to find a moment between meetings to find out what the Morrigu wanted. If he didn’t do it soon Her messages would become rather more dramatic and harder to explain to witnesses.
He went into the building and called the elevator, waiting until he was inside to study the collar. There was no phone number or name. Nothing to identify the cat. Was the cat also a messenger; is that why it hadn’t attacked the raven? If so, for whom was it working?
While there were many other gods and goddesses, and plenty of witches who still followed their ways and drew their power from them, he rarely crossed paths with any. He didn’t move in those circles and most people didn’t open up about their magical lives around the office water cooler. Witches and ancient deities didn’t exist in the minds of many and it was probably safer that way.
His fingers brushed over the feather. The faintest tremble of magic tingled over his skin. The feather was a gift; Her power was his to use. He really didn’t like drawing on Her power. Just thinking about it was enough to make the scar on his leg itch as if fur were sprouting.
The elevator doors opened. Alexis’ computer was already on and there was a beautiful pink-and-red flower arrangement on her desk. He hadn’t realized she was seeing anyone, but clearly Valentine’s Day had been rather more exciting for her than it had been for him. Good for her. Bad for him. He’d hoped she’d go for the PA job so when they were no longer working together he could ask her out. He’d have asked her out already, but he didn’t want to be that guy.
It was for the best that he’d never asked her out. He had too much weirdness in his life and he didn’t know how to explain to a girlfriend exactly what he did in his spare time. He was barely at the coven as it was. Adding a woman into the mix would only take up that time and then Mason would be on his case. He knew he needed to do more, but he couldn’t help them magically. He’d tried once, soon after being bitten, and it had been a mistake.
He’d paid to replace the mats his claws had torn up when he’d shifted. But no one had ever looked at him the same since. Maybe they hadn’t expected him to turn into an actual hellhound even though he’d warned them. Too much magic and he couldn’t fight the urge.
He’d make an extra donation and give the cat collar to Mason. The Morrigu respected wealth and that was how he best served the coven. She’d understand. Hopefully.
He stopped in the doorway to his office. Someone with bright red hair was in there, singing as they fixed up a vase of flowers that was in the middle of his desk where his files were usually piled up. He cleared his throat and she turned.
Alexis.
“Um…” Her usually chocolate brown hair was now red. Not a brilliant red, but definitely not a natural red, and it suited her. She’d caught his eye from day one, now he wasn’t sure he could look away. She was…almost glowing. He was too warm in his suit and his heart was beating a little too fast. The scar on his leg prickled and all his good intentions about not asking her out suddenly didn’t seem significant. He drew in a breath and glanced away. “Your hair looks great.”
The bell on the cat collar in his pocket jingled. If he got her out
of his office he could meditate for fifteen and find out what the hell was going on. Alexis with red hair, cats and ravens. He was a witch. He believed in many things people found improbable, but coincidences weren’t one of them.
“Thanks.” She flicked the ends and her gaze travelled the length of his body like she wanted to undo every button.
Whatever she’d gotten up to over the weekend had really had an effect on her. And the look she was giving him was having an effect on him. One he should ignore, but his body decided not to. He was grateful he was still wearing his jacket. “What’s with the flowers?”
“It’s spring so I thought they’d brighten the place up.” She fiddled with a blood red flower. “Do you like them?”
Yes seemed like the safe answer, so he nodded. “But you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. They must have cost a bit.”
“Don’t worry about it. I had fun arranging them.” She grinned, then brushed past him. Her body was against him for a moment too long then she was gone, leaving a floral scent behind. He turned to watch her go and it wasn’t just the hair on his arms that were standing to attention. His attraction to Alexis was going to be that much harder to tamp down if she was going to step up her game like this.
A raven landed on the window ledge and tapped on the glass.
Peyton shut his door. “I’m coming.”
Was it really that urgent? He glanced at the flowers. Did everyone have flowers on their desks, or had she done it just for him?
The raven tapped again and Peyton dropped his backpack on the floor and sat in his chair. He didn’t need a circle or candles or music to drop into a trance. As soon as his eyes closed and he turned his attention inward, the Morrigu was there.
Cloaked in black and tending Her herd of cattle, She waited for him in an emerald greed field. He hiked over the grass then bowed deeply. He’d learned not to ignore Her when She wanted to talk to him. He enjoyed serving Her before. He liked magic. He didn’t like that he could no longer practice because of the hellhound’s bite—too much magic and he became a creature out of nightmares. He was turning into his father, a witch in name only, and She was to blame.
“You took your time.” She tapped her staff.
“I was walking to work.” And he couldn’t drop everything and do this in the street.
“You could have. You chose not to.”
Peyton glanced up. He didn’t get the winged woman in black lingerie that Noah saw, nor did he get the warrior that Oskar had. He saw the Morrigu as the protector of wealth and lives, Her face hidden in the folds of Her cloak. Around Her, black-and-white cattle milled, fat and healthy.
“I’m here now.” But he didn’t have long. For all he knew Alexis was going to call him and tell him his eight thirty was early.
“Barely.” She moved. Her staff lashed out and then he was on his back with the Morrigu standing over him, the tip of Her staff against his chest. “You do not train, you do not use the gift I gave you, you do not worship me.”
“I’m busy.”
She stepped back and Peyton slowly sat, his gaze firmly on the goddess with the stick. The hood of Her cloak had blown back. She was beautiful…She wasn’t always. He’d seen Her as a gaunt old woman as often as She was pretty. Why was She like this today?
“You are like your father. You want only the glory and not the battle. I do not keep those that are unworthy.” She refocused on him. “Perhaps I should have let his line die.”
Peyton frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Tend your herd, there are wolves about.” She smiled, but it was a cold thing. “And I don’t mean you.” She tapped the bite scar on his leg.
“Take the bite and let me be your warrior again.”
“I will not take back the gift of being able to shift form.”
The cows were no longer as fat and the field was no longer as lush.
“But you’ll take the magic?” He was careful not to call it his magic, because it wasn’t his, it came from Her.
“I don’t take magic. I end lines.”
He should never have been born. His father had always said he was an accident and the only reason he’d married. His parents had been unhappy together until his father’s death when Peyton was thirteen.
His father had tried to end his line by not having children and She had defeated him. And if Peyton didn’t measure up, She’d end him.
The Morrigu nodded. “Prove yourself, warrior.”
“But what about the cat? You wanted to speak with me.”
“This is your test as a witch and a warrior.” The Morrigu struck the ground with Her staff. “I have spoken.”
Peyton opened his eyes. His phone was ringing. The black feather and pink collar were clasped in his hand, even though he didn’t remember getting them out of his pocket, and the scent of the flowers was stuck in the back of his throat. He wasn’t ready to deal with his first meeting of the day.
There was something about the flowers that had been bothering Peyton all day. He’d moved them to the side before his first meeting but the scent filled his office. No one else had commented on them; maybe they assumed they’d been given to him for Valentine’s Day. He really needed to talk to Alexis about the giving of flowers, or any gift. They couldn’t do what she had in mind.
He should ditch the flowers but didn’t, in part because he liked Alexis and she’d given them to him. But he also understood the value. A bunch that big couldn’t have been cheap, plus he didn’t want to upset her. Something had happened to her over the weekend. Maybe her friends had talked her into making a play and he was going to have to find a way to wriggle away without hurting her feelings. He should’ve killed that sizzle when she’d first started. But neither of them had ever stepped over the line so he’d figured it was just one of those things. A nice frisson of attraction with no danger involved.
He could also be a dumbass.
He stood and stretched his legs and tried not to groan. He had to get back to the coven to train more frequently. Maybe do some extra training so he could kick Noah’s ass. With a grin he grabbed his wallet to head out and get some lunch. He had time to eat out if he didn’t dawdle.
Alexis was slinging her handbag over her shoulder as he went past her desk. The scent of the flowers on her desk filled the reception area. Like the flowers in his office, they were bright, as if they’d been freshly cut or were still growing. Death hadn’t touched them yet. He frowned but pushed the thought aside as he called the elevator.
She followed him, her red hair loose around her shoulders. Usually she wore her hair up. “Lunch time?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her but tried not to let his gaze linger. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her wearing a skirt above the knee at work. He concentrated on the floor instead, the toes of her red shoes visible in his peripheral vision. “I’ll have that reference for you by the end of the day.”
“Thanks. I haven’t written my application yet.”
The doors opened and he lifted his gaze. “But you’re going to?”
“Maybe.” She smiled. Her lips matched her shoes.
Had she ever worn red lipstick before? It suited her. He couldn’t say that. They had to be professionals. As he got into the elevator he sent a quick prayer to the Morrigu that it had better not break down because his resolve to do the right thing was only so strong. He had to do the right thing for both of them because she was looking at him like a hungry lion eyeing up a nice piece of zebra rump.
Which he didn’t mind at all. His skin prickled and the cat collar in his pocket chimed.
Alexis stared at him, her blue eyes bright in the stark light. “So…shall we eat together?”
It was just a sandwich… “Sure. I need to be quick.”
“Your two o’clock cancelled.”
“They did?”
She nodded. “You don’t have to rush back.”
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea…” There was something about her that wasn’t Alexis. He wasn
’t sure what, though, only that she was on the hunt and he was the prey.
She stepped closer. “I think it’s a great idea. I should’ve asked you sooner.” She stared at him, then leaned closer. “I know you want me.”
He couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t shake the oddness of the day either. The cat. The raven. The Morrigu’s threat to cut him off permanently. He shouldn’t care. He could walk away and live his life without magic, but Alexis was involved and he didn’t want a life without magic. He wanted a life that didn’t involve being a part-time hellhound. Something that was never going to happen. Maybe he had to give up magic. “Why now?”
“Why not now? You were never going to ask, so I did.”
“Because I’m technically your boss and it’s not right.”
“But if I got the other job you wouldn’t be.”
“Well it wouldn’t be as bad. I don’t want to be dragged into HR.” His mother would think he was taking after his father and chasing secretaries. He hadn’t chased Alexis. And he wasn’t his father.
She considered him for a moment then stepped back as the elevator doors opened. “Just lunch.”
It would never be just lunch with Alexis.
Out the front of the building were half a dozen cats, which wouldn’t have been odd if they’d been eating something. But they weren’t. They were sitting and waiting, and more oddly, they were all grey.
“Oh.” Alexis squatted down. “My grandmother used to breed British Blues. Aren’t they cute? Where did you lot come from?” She patted them individually until they all purred.
She looked at him and smiled, then her gaze shifted to the tree behind him. Her expression hardened. The cats turned and hissed as one.
Peyton’s heart beat faster as he turned. Three ravens sat in the tree. One was usually enough—three meant trouble. The Morrigu was watching him. Or was She watching Alexis?
He glanced at Alexis. The hair, the cats and flowers. Lunch would be a good excuse to ask some questions that didn’t reveal he was a witch. The bite scar on his leg itched. He was a neutered witch, without the help of his goddess, but he still had a few tricks he could play.
