He eyed her warily. “Now? You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
“That’s pretty sure.”
She pressed her hands against his chest. “So should I approach this the same as the spell? Maksim said a curse is made of denser magic and I was supposed to be careful with it.”
“Yes, you definitely want to be careful. And he was right. A curse will feel different than a spell on that level. It’s stronger, tougher. Think about gum stuck to someone’s shoe. Only it’s not gum and no shoes are involved.”
Eden’s expression was filled with enthusiasm, hope, and sheer determination. He didn’t want to say anything to break this mood. He liked seeing the worry gone from her green eyes.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.
He almost smiled at that. He was more concerned for her, not him at this moment. “The spell could have gotten worse, but a curse is as bad as it gets. Not sure you could do more damage than was already done.”
Eden nodded. “Then kiss me again for good luck.”
“I can definitely do that.” He flexed his abdomen and sat up, doing just as she asked. She tasted good. Addictive. His body responded immediately.
Sure, now it responded. What happened to this surge of desire five minutes ago?
Stupid Lucifer.
He slid his hands under the edge of her flannel top to trail up the length of her spine.
“Should touch you skin to skin again,” he said. “It will help.”
“It’s helping.”
“Now try to concentrate, Eden, and break this damn curse once and for all. One shot. That’s all we’re doing right now. Just a test of the emergency broadcast system.”
“Just a test.” She kissed him one last time, then closed her eyes and pressed him back down to the mattress. “I can do this.”
Darrak watched her guardedly. There was no change for a moment, but then she frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing . . . but I—I think I can see something. I think it’s your curse. It’s . . . it’s so dark and horrible.”
He did hope that was the curse she was seeing, not simply his true demon self. “Tell me exactly what you see.”
“The darkness is filled with evil like a black hole. It scares me.”
“What else?”
She hesitated. “On the other side there’s a glow, a—a brightness. Filled with light and life and goodness.”
That was probably the celestial energy he’d absorbed from her like an undigested candy bar in his gut. “Focus on the dark part. Try to grab that darkness and test it out—you’ll be able to see if it’s really the curse then or if it’s, uh, just a part of . . . yours truly.”
“Okay, I can do that.” She was silent for a long moment, her forehead creased with concentration. “I’m almost there. I can move it—right now . . . it’s hard to budge . . .”
Something was wrong, he sensed it deep in his gut. “Eden, wait a minute. Something about this doesn’t feel right. We need to hang off for just a—”
And then he felt it. Pain—a searing agony more intense and acute than he’d ever felt before crashed over him like a tidal wave. It was quite possible he literally screamed. He pushed Eden off of him and rolled off the side of the bed. And then, suddenly, his body was gone, and there was only smoke.
This is it, he thought past the white-hot pain tearing through his entire being. The end. It’s over. It’s all over . . .
EIGHT
Eden panicked, scrambling off the bed so fast and hard that she bruised her knees. “Darrak! No . . . no! Please!”
He was gone; only black smoke remained for a long, horrible drawn-out moment.
And then his body returned. Darrak lay on his back on the carpet, next to an old copy of Glamour magazine.
“Oh, my God!” She grabbed hold of his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to hurt you! I’m so sorry! Darrak . . . are—are you okay?”
He blinked, then squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them and meeting her gaze. “How do I look?”
“You . . .” Eden gulped and scanned his body—currently in all its naked glory. “You look fine. Great. Normal. How do you feel?”
He forced himself into a sitting position. “That was extremely unpleasant.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Hot tears streaked down her face. “And I don’t think it even worked. I had to stop before I could really try to do anything else. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
He touched her face to push the tears away. “I’m fine now. But you’re right, the curse is still with me. I feel it. Nothing’s changed.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She’d tried, but she knew it hadn’t done a bit of good. The bright light had blocked what she’d tried to get at—that dark, nasty sludge that she was certain represented the curse on a metaphysical level. As soon as she’d tried to separate the light from the dark she’d sensed Darrak’s distress. It had come across to her loud and clear.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “We tried. It was enough to know it’s not nearly as simple to remove as the spell.”
Darrak was still bound to Eden, as much as he’d ever been.
But she wasn’t disappointed she’d failed. She was filled with relief that he was okay. For a horrible moment there, she thought she’d lost him completely.
Looked like Maksim’s advice had been too good to be true after all.
“So . . . it looks like you’re stuck with me,” Darrak said cautiously.
She leaned back against the side of her bed. “Looks that way.”
“We can go see Maksim again if you like. Get some more advice from the Wiz.”
“Maybe another day. But today we have other plans if you’re up to it.”
“I’m up. Or I will be momentarily.”
She finally let go of him. The near-romance of earlier had momentarily passed. Nothing like wrenching pain and a near death experience to help spoil the mood.
For now, anyway.
“What was the guy’s name again?” Darrak asked.
“Good question. Lucas gave me a card that has info on it, but since the guy is magically cloaked from him the card was blank. I’ll check it in a minute.”
When he didn’t reply, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was pushing himself up to a standing position, and in three seconds flat had conjured clothing to cover his body. He gave her a quizzical look.
“What?” she asked.
“You don’t like calling him by his real name, do you?”
She swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“Makes you feel like he’s not as dangerous, maybe?”
“What’s the difference?”
Darrak shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. Call him Gertrude if you like.”
“He might not answer to that.”
“Where’s the famous summoning crystal?”
“Why?”
“Maybe I should hang on to it for you so there are no more unplanned trips.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Her eyes narrowed at his pinched look. “Lucas isn’t interested in me. I mean, come on. I’m a nobody in the grand scheme of things.”
“Right. Nobody. You really think that, don’t you? Just Caroline Riley’s daughter, the slightly psychic loner who doesn’t let anyone get close to her.”
Eden cringed. “I wasn’t asking for a psychological evaluation. Besides, today’s not about me. Or you. We gave it a shot just now, and it didn’t work. Now we need to find this blank card guy, and then we have to focus on Andy. Our problems will wait for another day.”
Darrak nodded. “You’re right. You’re always right.”
He left for the kitchen. He didn’t sound completely sincere, and Eden tried not to think about that.
They had to get along. Fighting or major disagreements wouldn’t serve them at all. Besides, she’d just proven to herself that the two of them w
ere stuck together. And she had no idea how long she had to find another solution for them.
The moment Eden pulled the previously blank card out of her coat pocket, she realized it wasn’t blank anymore. After all, Lucas wasn’t near it anymore.
BRENDANFRANKS
55 BL _ _ RST _ _ E _ W _ _ _
She could read the name, but whatever it said beneath it wasn’t very helpful. Letters were missing, smeared or blurry, or just totally unreadable.
Well, the name was a good start.
“Okay, Brendan Franks,” she mumbled to herself. “Little do you know, but you have a conversation with Lucas coming up very soon.”
Just a conversation. He’d promised her that.
And she trusted him, right?
Yeah, right.
They left for Triple-A. If anyone could help them locate Mr. Franks, it would be Andy.
“Well, let’s have a look-see,” he murmured as he ran the name through the special government database he had access to on his office computer. Eden didn’t think the access came courtesy of the government itself, but through some talent Andy had for hacking into places he shouldn’t be. Eden didn’t ask for details. She really didn’t want to know. “All right, I’ve found one hit on that name here in the GTA.”
“But what about what it says underneath?” Darrak asked. “I’m no Magnum, P.I., but I’m thinking that’s a clue.”
“You’re right. My guess is it says 55 Bloor Street West, which is the Manulife Centre, but no Brendan Franks came up there. But maybe it’s where he works.”
Eden blinked. “You guessed that?”
“I’m killer at Hangman. You have no idea.”
“I’m impressed.” She nervously played with the silver bracelet in her pocket. It remained cold as ice, not warming to her body temperature—one of the signs of its supernatural qualities.
Lucas wanted her to put this bracelet on Brendan Franks so they could have a conversation. Sounded so easy. Too easy.
She knew that likely meant it wouldn’t be.
And Darrak was right, she did prefer to call him Lucas even knowing exactly who he really was. What did that say about her? Was she ignoring reality?
As much as humanly possible, thank you very much. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t still painfully aware of it.
“How are you feeling today, Andy?” she asked, exchanging a glance with Darrak.
“I’m just fine and dandy. Never better. Why do you ask?” At her pointed look, he held up his hand. “Don’t you start with the werewolf thing again.”
“Andy—”
“No, Eden, I’m serious. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Frustration welled within her. “Denying it isn’t going to change anything. You’re the one who’s going to change. Tonight. Don’t be a fool.”
Andy pointed at the door. “You’re fired!”
Eden almost laughed, but managed to repress it. “You’re not my boss. We’re partners.”
He slumped forward on his desk. “Why must you torment me about this? I’m not a damned werewolf.”
“So prove it,” Darrak said.
Andy tensed. “What?”
“Prove it. Tonight at dusk.”
“And how am I going to do that?”
“Let us lock you up right here,” Eden said, glancing around at their one-room office. “If you don’t change into a wolf, then you’re right and I’ll eat my words and apologize profusely every day for the rest of my life. But if I’m right, then you’ll be safely contained in here and you won’t hurt anyone.”
He made a face. “Contained? I could easily bust down that door with a well-placed kick.”
Darrak shook his head. “Normally I’d agree with you, Chuck Norris, but we happen to have a spell that will, allegedly”—he glanced at Eden and she saw the doubt about Maksim in his eyes. After what happened this morning she couldn’t really blame him there—“seal this place up nice and tight. Also, no one walking by will be able to see anything hairy going on in here. Literally.”
“Here,” Andy said skeptically.
“Yup.”
He sighed, and it sounded shaky. “How long do I need to be locked up before you two realize this lycanthropy thing doesn’t apply to me?”
“An hour,” Eden said.
“An hour. That’s it?”
“Yes.” She held her breath, hoping he wasn’t going to keep arguing with them. She had enough on her plate today already without this discussion going around in endless circles.
Andy reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his silver flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink from it before putting it back. “Fine.”
Eden raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes, really. You have my permission to lock me in here at sunset tonight for exactly sixty minutes and not one second longer. That’s it. That’s all. And then we can finally move on from this ridiculous topic of conversation. Agreed?”
“I think we can agree with that,” Darrak said. “And, FYI, it’s really not all that ridiculous.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is!”
Eden sighed. “We’re not arguing with you. It’s impossible.”
“You’re impossible,” Andy countered.
“Good comeback.”
Andy grabbed the printout from his Brendan Franks search and glanced at it. “Who is this guy, anyway?”
Eden took hold of the list of two addresses from him. “Just somebody I need to find.”
“For who? A client?”
“No.” She hesitated. “Actually, it’s for . . . Lucifer.”
Andy let the paper go so abruptly she staggered back a step. “Do I even want to know anything more about this?”
“Probably not”
“Then I won’t ask.”
“Good idea. We’ll be back later.” She looked at him sternly. “And don’t even think about leaving after work. You need to stay right here.”
He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
That was what you got when you tried to help people out these days. Shameless mocking.
So they were off on their Lucas-related assignment. Eden prayed it would go smoothly.
It was worth a shot.
Ben tried to make peace with the idea he’d be called upon to torture a woman for information later tonight. Not so strangely, that peace didn’t come.
He didn’t like to harm women. Ever. For any reason. He was old-fashioned that way.
If he stooped to the Malleus’s level to that extent, then he was no better of a monster than Darrak.
Ben wouldn’t be able to live with himself it if came to that.
There had to be another solution. And that solution was to get the shapeshifter to talk without any unpleasant means, and Oliver would be satisfied with whatever answers he was looking for. Only Ben would have to get those answers without first asking his boss for permission.
Say what you would about the Malleus and their airtight rules and employees who’d handed their very lives over to the “cause,” sometimes a little money worked as well as any magic ever could.
Especially to the guards who held the keys to the prisoner cells.
One of those greedy guards in question slipped his key into the shifter’s door.
“You have five minutes,” he gruffly informed Ben. “That’s it.”
“Do you think she’ll try to escape?”
“Not with that metal band on her wrist. It stops her from shifting, giving a hell of a shock if she even plays with it. She’s trapped here whether she likes it or not.”
“Handy.”
“Five minutes,” the guard reminded him.
It would have to be enough. This was a little talk that wasn’t sanctioned by Oliver. And he’d been avoiding Sandy ever since she delivered the tainted chicken soup yesterday.
He was on his own.
Other than a small cot and a toilet, there wasn’t much else in the ten-f
oot-square room but her. The woman crouched in the shadows in the corner.
Ben was met with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“What the hell do you want, Ken doll?” she snapped.
He gave her a smile that might have looked more like a grimace. “The name’s not Ken. It’s Ben.”
“Hooray for you. Leave me alone, jerk.”
“Jerk? You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough. You’re one of them.” She thrust her chin toward the door. “Locked me up in here like an animal.”
“Well, you are a shifter. So you’re an animal part-time, anyway, aren’t you?”
“Bite me.”
“Not in my plans. Sorry.” He glanced at the door, then moved toward it to look out the small window. The guard had moved down the hallway. They had a bit of privacy to speak.
When he looked back at the woman, she was already in front of him, her right fist aimed toward his jaw. He deflected the punch before it landed and wrenched her arm behind her back, pushing her up against the wall like he’d done hundreds of times before with common criminals who’d tried to escape.
“Be nice,” he warned.
“Why should I?”
“I’m not the bad guy here.”
“Sure,” she growled. “I believe it.”
“Have they hurt you?”
“No. But you’re hurting me right now.”
He let go of her. She scrambled away from him, returning to the opposite corner but staying on her feet. He swept his gaze over her. She was somewhere in her twenties, about five seven, with skin the color of cocoa and eyes like bright amber. Her black hair was long and sleek and swept back over her shoulders. The silver cuff circled her left wrist. She wore a simple white T-shirt, which looked a size too small, making her breasts strain against the jersey material.
He felt something stir within him.
Great. The last goddamned thing he needed right now was to find himself attracted to a prisoner. And a bitchy, unhelpful one at that.
“How do you know Eden Riley?” he asked bluntly. The sooner he could get out of here the better.
The woman’s eyes widened as if he’d surprised her, but then they narrowed. “No idea who you’re talking about.”
That Old Black Magic Page 9
