She glanced around the bathroom, almost as if she didn’t know what one was. Just when Victoria entertained the real possibility that she’d never seen a modern bathroom, she stepped inside. Smiling, she squeezed between them, heading for the shower. Kevin was again uncomfortably close to the woman’s breasts, as she pressed against him. Victoria wondered if she was now doing it on purpose.
She turned on the hot water and closed her eyes as the stream massaged her. A deep sigh escaped. She didn’t bother closing the curtain. Victoria and Kevin looked at each other, not saying a word. With a shrug, Kevin grabbed a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap from the sink. He handed them over, and the woman accepted. He was ready to close the curtain, give her privacy, when she let out a cry, and put her hands on the tile. Every muscle froze.
The witch broke down.
She collapsed in the shower, with the water still running. Sobbing, she curled into a fetal position. Her body shook and shivered, and goosebumps ripped across her flesh.
“Oh, God,” Kevin said. “What’s wrong?”
Victoria didn’t cry much. She’d seen much suffering in her lifetime. She’d become almost immune to it. But watching the nameless woman let out years of emotion almost made her eyes water.
If Alex hadn’t dispatched Michael Tavers, Victoria would have done it herself.
“She knows. She knows she’s free.”
“What do we do?”
“I’ll go search the bedroom. There has to be something there. You stay with her. Help her get cleaned up. Let her know she’s not alone.”
“Victoria. I’m like … not qualified for this.”
She squeezed his shoulders, giving him a light hug. As he sometimes did, Kevin wasn’t giving himself enough credit. Besides sharing a common magical background, the woman was drawn to Kevin’s compassion.
“You’ll be fine. Let me find something, and I’ll be right back.”
Victoria searched the bedroom, keeping her ears open. Michael kept his room organized, almost to an obsessive level. His shirts were divided by color, and also by sleeve length. Jeans had their own drawer. His business-ware hung in a closet that rivaled her own.
In the bathroom, the cries of the woman died down. Kevin spoke softly to her. The cadence of the water changed. Victoria knew she was standing, cleaning up.
In a comb in the nightstand, she found her needle in the haystack. A simple strand of hair. She returned to the bathroom, where she froze at the sight before her.
Kevin was in the shower with his fellow witch. The curtain was still open. He’d removed his shoes and tie, but nothing else. In his slacks and dress shirt, he huddled in the corner behind her, his arms crossed. His clothes were soaking wet. The woman had run shampoo through her hair, letting it set, and worked on soaping her body. She played with the water as she bathed, holding her hand under the faucet and watching it turn blue.
If it weren’t inappropriate, she would have taken a photo.
“Wow,” she said. “This might be the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.”
Kevin was not amused.
“She wouldn’t shower until I climbed in. This is ridiculous.”
“You look good wet.”
“Shut up.”
She held up the hair.
“Potion, please.”
He pointed to the vial on the sink. She handed it over, along with the hair. He combined everything and capped the vial with his thumb.
“Pour this on the keyboard.”
“I remember. When you’re done doing … whatever it is you’re doing, come join me.”
The woman turned to face Kevin, who glanced away. She handed him the bar of soap and began pointing.
“What does she want?”
Victoria knew Kevin and Leese were intimate, had done a lot together. But he clearly needed more experience showering with a woman.
“She wants you to wash her back.”
“Oh, joy.”
Victoria left them to get more acquainted and returned to Michael’s prison. Kevin’s potion worked exactly as it should have. She began poking through his personal files and emails.
As she feared, there was nothing on his prisoner.
Most of Michael’s data related to his business. There were presentations, meeting notes, schedules. She found some interesting online auctions he browsed through. Haunted objects, cursed furniture, alleged magical artifacts. These auctions weren’t mainstream, for the public. They were underground, hidden away from prying eyes. Michael truly was obsessed with the supernatural.
His email was just as boring. Correspondence with employees, demands for more results, instructions for his personal assistant Jamie.
A single email caught her attention, and she moved her hand away from the mouse.
She couldn’t look away.
Victoria didn’t know how much time passed. She didn’t hear Kevin and the woman climb out of the shower and dry off. She didn’t even hear them cross the floor and step back inside the secret room. The only reason she knew Kevin was behind her was because he touched her shoulder. They both jumped for different reasons. Kevin had startled Victoria, and it startled him that he startled her.
She spun in the chair. Kevin stood with his shirt open, his slacks still wet, his tie slung around his neck. The female witch had finally put on a cotton robe, but didn’t bother tying it. Like Kevin earlier, she wandered from bookshelf to bookshelf.
“Damn,” Kevin said, putting a hand over his heart. “Are you okay?”
“I’m honestly not sure yet.”
“What’s wrong? Did you find something?”
“Nothing on her. But yeah. I found something.”
He peered over her shoulder. She didn’t bother speaking, deciding to let the email speak for itself.
The sender was a meaningless series of letters and numbers, not a person’s name. There was no subject. The body comprised merely two sentences, with no signature.
Success. Will buy more when needed.
The email contained an attachment. It was a picture of a vampire. A young man, early twenties. Blond hair, with glowing, red eyes. He was shackled to a chair, and the chair secured to a brick wall. The picture was taken mid-scream. His fangs were exposed, his eyes full of hate.
Victoria couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.
“Whoa,” Kevin said.
“Yeah. Whoa.”
“What is happening here?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”
They were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. The only sound came from the witch behind them, rummaging through books.
Why was a vampire strapped in a chair? What exactly was success? Was humanity at it again, making weapons? Only this time, using magic?
She couldn’t get too far ahead of herself. But she made one easy conclusion. The email said as such.
“Michael was selling magic. Like you.”
It didn’t come out like she intended. Kevin frowned.
“Hey,” he said. “Stop. I’m nothing like that guy.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“This email address—”
“Already ahead of you. It’s closed. He, or she, or they, probably uses a new one for each sale.”
He put his hands on his hips.
“So, what do you want to do?”
“I want to look into this.”
He frowned.
“Really?”
“Well, no. Not really. I want to relax. Lay on my couch. Enjoy some blood. Find a delicious stranger and feel his pulse. Maybe go to Ocean City. But—” She gestured to the laptop. “This just feels important. We need to check this out.”
“We?”
There was a time Victoria wanted to keep Kevin far away from the supernatural. Not only because of her mantra of low profile, but because she wanted to protect him. She actively tried to keep him from Anatol Grigori, a unique hybrid intent on unleashing demons on the world. She wanted a n
ormal life for him, at least as much of normal as a witch could have. There was no reason for a high schooler to bounce around the world, helping with supernatural cases.
But they were past high school. However it happened, Kevin always seemed to get involved, and he always contributed. He was part of her inner circle.
“Yeah. We. Me and you.”
He surprised her with a frown.
“I don’t know, Victoria.”
“Really?” It was her turn for the word. “Not long ago, you would have jumped at the chance to show off your potions.”
“I know, but … I need to get things together. I have to find a job, and keep it.”
“I’ll happily pay for your time.” She couldn’t believe the next words on the tip of her tongue. “And your magic.”
“You really want my help?”
“Please.”
It didn’t quite have the magical effect it had on Jack, but a please from Victoria was still a powerful thing. It wasn’t the thought of money that swayed Kevin, but their friendship. She could see him turning it over in his mind, and knew what he’d say.
She truly loved her friends.
“Of course, I’ll help you.”
Leaning forward, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you.”
Before they said another word, he received a second kiss on the opposite cheek from the woman. She smiled, then walked back to the bookshelves. Apparently, Kevin was getting sole credit for rescuing her.
“What do we do with her?”
“I don’t think taking her with us is the best idea.”
“Yeah. So, what—?”
He stopped when he met Victoria’s eyes. Her expression said it all, her sheepish, almost-apologetic smile. Kevin read her mind.
“Victoria,” he said, with a disapproving frown. “No way.”
“Can you think of a better idea? You want her to stay with your sister?”
“How about Alex and Cindy?”
“They don’t have the resources. And they’ve been through a lot lately. They need a break.”
“How about at the mansion with Zoey?”
“I don’t want to put this on her. What are you so worried about? It’s not like she can hurt him.”
“I’m worried about what he will do to her.”
She waved away his concern.
“Oh, stop. Don’t worry at all. Everything will be okay.”
He sighed.
“When this is all over, she’ll be begging to go back in the cage.”
CHAPTER 6
THE HAND SLAMMING on the desk jolted Brandon Shaeffer from sleep. He shot upright in his chair, suddenly wide awake. His phone and notebook crashed to the floor. It took him a moment to realize where he was. His classmates snickered and giggled. His vision cleared up just in time to see Heather Meeks, one of many girls he’d leave his girlfriend for, rolling her eyes at him. If he cared about high school, cared about the surrounding people, maybe he would have been embarrassed. The only thing he felt was irritation at his phone possibly getting damaged. It was a good thing he had a protective case, or Mr. Perkins’ car would have suffered an unfortunate, random keyeing.
“Brandon, come on,” Mr. Perkins said. “I’m not really that boring, am I?”
“Fuck you,” Brandon muttered, just soft enough not to be heard.
He picked up his phone and set it on the corner of the desk. Not one word of Mr. Perkins’ history lesson found its way to Brandon’s brain. Instead of listening, he peered out the window at the afternoon sun, watching the gym class play soccer. He eyed up which girls were attractive, which ones he’d get to do his homework. It was a pleasant distraction from class, and much better than listening about the rise of Hitler.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the last class of the day. It was finally time to go home. Brandon couldn’t get his things together fast enough. Mr. Perkins tried to call his name, hold him back for what was certainly an overdue talk. But Brandon ignored him and kept walking. The school day was officially over. Teachers couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to.
He made a quick stop at his locker. A moment later, Nina, the gorgeous exchange student from Ireland, opened her locker several away from his. Brandon’s heart fluttered. Nina’s skin was smooth and pale, her eyes like emeralds. The redhead’s accent was music to his ears. She gave him a smile and a hello, and he tried to work up the nerve. Something more than a simple hello.
He’d taken one step toward her, when a goofy, lopsided smile got in the way. Tina smacked into the locker between them, yelling out a loud boo.
The boo worked. Brandon jumped, the second time in five minutes. Irritated, he backed up to his locker, and tried to peer around the shoulder of his onetime best friend. Tina was oblivious to the fact that she was in the way. She continued to roar with laughter. By the time he saw past her, Nina was gone.
“Did I scare you?” she asked, adjusting her glasses.
“Yeah, you got me. Are you proud of yourself?”
“Always. Hey!” She pulled out her phone. “Did you see the video of Ronnie Taylor getting attacked?”
Before he could say a word, she was shoving her phone in his face. His eyes moved about the hallway, almost guiltily. It felt like everyone was watching, listening, throwing accusations for watching the video.
The video of Ronnie Taylor’s beating had gone viral, and he heard someone mention it was making national news. The beating was savage, inhumane. It was filmed at night, and the goal posts from the football field could be seen in the background. The camera work wasn’t great, with too much movement at different times. But the way the four teens wearing masks beat him, kicked him, tied his hands behind his back, was quite clear.
Tina’s glee faded, and she tried to grab Brandon’s arm for comfort. He pulled away.
“Yeah,” he said. “I already saw it.”
“Terrible. I heard whoever did it just drove by and dumped him on his front lawn. His mother found him. Who would do that? Ronnie … he would never hurt anyone.”
“Well, everyone pisses off somebody, right?”
Tina shrugged and put her phone away.
“How are you and Bobbi doing?”
He held in a sigh. Everything was going great with his girlfriend, except like normal girlfriends, she wouldn’t have sex with him. There was always some excuse. The closest they’d ever got was in the back seat of his car, their clothes off, when she stopped him. She wasn’t comfortable. It didn’t feel right. Their entire relationship was beginning to feel like a joke. He wasn’t the high school quarterback, but he’d have more of a chance with any other girl. If things didn’t happen soon, he’d seriously consider moving on.
“We’re just fine,” he said, his tone gruff.
“Are you okay?” Tina asked. “What’s wrong?”
That was a question she didn’t want the answer to. What was wrong was her. Tina was his best friend, back in middle school. But middle school was long gone. He’d been trying to keep her at arm’s length for over a year. People simply grew up, grew apart. She was nice to have around just before a test. Tina was extremely smart, and could explain things to Brandon so he could understand. But her constant high energy, always-chipper personality had finally grated on him. Her braces-filled smile and pigtails were charming in sixth grade. Now, there were moments he could barely tolerate her.
“I’m fine. Why does anything have to be wrong?”
“Oh, wow. Grumpy, much?”
He rolled his eyes and shut his locker. Before he could leave, Tina grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Wait, Brandon. Just a sec.” Her smile disappeared. “I know we haven’t talked as much as we used to. And I know you got a girlfriend now and everything, so you probably share everything with her. But if something is bothering you, you can talk to me about it. Okay? I’d listen.”
Her offer was honest, sincere. He nearly dumped everything on her, just to annoy her, to see if she coul
d handle it. He almost told her how much he hated their town, their school, his family. He hated his parents, hated his sister. He hated that his father worked a lousy job selling insurance, with his mother answering phones at a doctor’s office. The only thing he didn’t hate was their dog, Winston.
Ever since his uncle, whom he often thought of as a father-figure, went missing, hate was so much easier to feel.
He spared her his emotional garbage.
“Thanks, Tina,” he said. “I appreciate—”
“Brandon.”
He turned at the sound of his name. Dave stood at the end of the row of lockers. He didn’t bother approaching. He gave a curt nod and walked away. Dave wasn’t even an acquaintance, just a guy who sold things. Brandon understood the code. It was time to meet at their normal spot.
“I have to go,” he told Tina.
“Okay,” Tina said. “I’ll see you—”
Brandon walked away before she could finish.
He left school, carrying only his backpack. He would have left it in his locker, but had a feeling he’d need it after talking with Dave. Crossing the football field, he noticed the glances from the team warming up. His pace slowed as he took notice of the goal posts. The track was next. He circled behind the storage room, where they kept the hurdles and starting blocks. Dave waited for him.
“Shit. Took you long enough.”
“Fuck off. I had to get rid of Tina.”
“Ah. Tina. The things I would do—”
“Hey, shut your mouth. Don’t screw with Tina.”
“Whatever, man. Calm—”
“I want to go home. You got something for me, or what?”
“Hold on.”
Dave searched nearby, making sure no one watched. He dropped his backpack and pulled out the biggest knife Brandon had ever seen. Dave handed it over. Brandon tested the weight before playfully pointing it at Dave’s chest.
“Hey! Watch that shit!”
Brandon was impressed, but there was a slight problem.
“Ah, man. It’s a knife. I said I wanted a fucking gun.”
“It’s a start, right? Fifty bucks.”
Brandon thought about his new friends, the crowd he’d fallen in with. They ran at night, drank a few beers now and then, had a little fun. They’d never stop giving him a hard time if he showed up to party with a knife.
Damned and Cursed | Book 10 | Fallen Skye Page 9
