Druid Vices and a Vodka: The Guild Codex: Spellbound / Six

by Marie, Annette

  “Tagging the Ghost would be wild,” he told Shane, “but recent evidence suggests he’s left the Vancouver area. There haven’t been any sightings of him in months.”

  “Deeply entrenched rogues don’t lightly abandon their territories,” the bounty hunter said confidently. “I have several leads to follow. If you’re comfortable tackling a DOA bounty like this one, I’d like to have you on board.”

  “I—of course. Not an issue at all. I have no problem with …” As Aaron hurriedly assured the famous bounty hunter that he wasn’t intimidated by any rogue, Ezra murmured quietly, “Kai? What’s wrong?”

  I looked over. Kai sat rigid on his stool, staring at his phone. His face had paled, his jaw so tight a vein throbbed in his cheek.

  He stood, almost toppling his stool. “I need to go.”

  “Kai?” I began anxiously. “What—”

  He was already striding away. Ezra was off his seat, a step behind Kai as the electramage made a beeline for the door.

  “Excuse me, Shane.” Aaron hardly spared the bounty hunter a glance as he rushed after his friends.

  I gritted my teeth. My shift wasn’t over for hours, meaning I was stuck here. If it was urgent, they’d tell me … right? I yanked my phone out of my pocket and hammered out a message: What the hell is going on? Is Kai okay?

  “Miss Dawson?” Shane murmured.

  “Call me Tori,” I muttered distractedly as I sent the question to our group chat. “Would you like anything else? Appetizer? Dinner?”

  “Perhaps I could ask you a few questions.”

  My gaze froze on my phone, the chat abandoned except for my lonely question. Raising my head, I looked into Shane’s gray-brown eyes behind those icky round glasses. “What sort of questions?”

  “You’re a witch, correct? Discovered as a mythic last August?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “And you’ve worked at the Crow and Hammer for eight months?”

  Nervous anger flitted through me. “That’s public info, dude. You don’t need to ask me.”

  “Has anyone from the Crow and Hammer ever investigated the Ghost before?”

  Even if I’d been born yesterday, I would’ve recognized that for the trick question it was. “What do the MPD records say?”

  “The Crow and Hammer has never officially investigated the Ghost, but last summer—June and July, specifically—several members made urgent inquiries to other guilds and MPD offices regarding the Ghost and his suspected whereabouts.”

  Shit. The Crow and Hammer had made urgent inquiries because the Ghost had kidnapped me.

  “I was just a bartender back then,” I told him.

  “Even Darius King was asking interesting questions,” Shane continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “The Crow and Hammer seemed very keen on the Ghost, but they never logged anything in the system.”

  “Maybe they never got anywhere so there was nothing to log.”

  “Perhaps,” he agreed neutrally, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Around the same time, the MPD questioned several Crow and Hammer members, including Aaron, Kai, and Ezra, concerning a case that involved the disappearance of a teen girl.”

  I returned the rum bottle to my well and said flatly, “Did they.”

  “You were questioned as well, according to the records, but you were … just a bartender back then?”

  “Yeah, I was,” I snapped. “You read the report, right? So you can screw right off with your bullshit questions.”

  He sipped his vodka and didn’t budge from his seat. “The human suspects in that case claimed that the red-haired woman who used an illegal artifact to question them was allied with the Ghost.”

  “Oh damn.” I laid the sarcasm on thick as I glared at him. “Then that must’ve been me, because there couldn’t possibly be more than one red-haired woman in the greater Vancouver area.”

  “A red-haired woman in the company of Aaron, Kai, and Ezra?”

  Ignoring the panicked racing of my heart, I planted my hands on the bar and leaned forward, putting myself eye to eye with the bounty hunter. “A little pointer, Shane. You won’t be the first asshole with an agenda I’ve thrown out of my bar, and you won’t be the last.”

  Shane didn’t flinch at my arctic glare. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted his briefcase onto the bar and popped it open. Plastic rustled as he reached inside it.

  He closed his briefcase and set a clear plastic bag on top of it. “Evidence” was stamped across it in red, and shielded inside was a pair of women’s runners with an ugly black stain discoloring the sides.

  My face went cold, the blood draining from my head, but I couldn’t stop my visceral reaction to the sight of those shoes.

  “These,” Shane murmured, “belong to you.”

  It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t bother denying it. My shoes. I remembered staggering up a flight of stairs, drunk from dragon blood exposure. I remembered kicking those runners away as I stripped off my clothes to get in the shower.

  I’d left my shoes behind. I’d forgotten them in Zak’s bathroom, in his private upper-floor suite, in his farmhouse in the hidden valley that was his only refuge.

  “Miss Dawson,” the bounty hunter said quietly, “let’s talk about where you were last summer from June thirtieth to July fourteenth.”

  He was a psychometric, able to read an object’s past with a touch. What had he learned from my shoes? How much did he know? Knees weak, I took a stumbling step backward—and thumped against someone. A hand closed around my shoulder, squeezing gently, and a familiar voice spoke above my head.

  “What an honor to have a renowned bounty hunter in my guild. A pleasure to encounter you again, Shane.”

  The evidence bag was already back in Shane’s briefcase as he rose to his feet, gaining a few precious inches of height as he looked up at the man beside me.

  “Darius,” Shane said coldly. “I would say the pleasure is all yours.”

  “Oh, most certainly.” Darius settled his arm over my shoulders. “What brings you to my humble bar?”

  “I asked the Sinclair boy if he was available to assist me on a case, though perhaps I should’ve considered how much your influence may have corrupted him over the years.”

  “I prefer to think my influence is all to the positive.”

  “I doubt that very much.” Shane slid his briefcase off the counter. “I hope you’re enjoying retirement, Darius. You’re very lucky it’s here and not in a prison cell.”

  “I do enjoy my creature comforts.” A mocking, steely note slid into Darius’s voice. “But luck has nothing to do with it, Mr. Davila. Have fun with your case.”

  Dismissed, just like that. I squashed my grin.

  Shane picked up his glass, tossed back the last of his vodka, and replaced the tumbler on the counter. His gaze turned to me, and with a faint smile, he crossed the pub. The bell jingled as the door closed behind him.

  I let out a shaky breath and tipped my head back to bring the guild master into view. His gray eyes were bright with amusement as he looked down at me.

  “So … Shane doesn’t like you,” I guessed.

  Dropping his arm from my shoulders, Darius scooped up Shane’s glass and added it to my stack of used dishes. “Not at all.”

  “How come?”

  Deep satisfaction flashed over his face, and he rubbed his short salt-and-pepper beard as though to erase the expression. “I belong to a small and very exclusive club that Shane would likely call The Ones Who Got Away.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Are you admitting to being a rogue?”

  “Roguish, maybe,” he replied with a wink. “Now, Tori, I believe Clara is heading out in a few minutes. Why don’t you call it a night and let her drive you home?”

  “But my shift isn’t over.”

  “Ramsey and I will cover for you. I would hate for any impolitely persistent individuals to inconvenience you on your way home.”

  Ah. Now we were on the same page. “You go
t it.”

  I packed up my things, and ten minutes later, Clara was dropping me off outside my place. I waved as she drove away, her sedan’s taillights retreating up the quiet street. Anxiously tugging my coat shut against the frigid January wind, I hurried through the gate and into the backyard. I unlocked the outer door, then the second door that led into my basement apartment.

  “Twiggy?” I called as I descended the stairs. “I’m home!”

  I paused a few steps from the bottom to squint at my phone. Ezra had responded to my anxious questions with a message that the three of them were home and nothing crazy had happened. Shortly after, Aaron had confirmed that Kai was locked in his room and didn’t want to talk to anyone. Aaron and Ezra would keep an eye on the electramage and update me in the morning.

  My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, then I stuck my phone in my pocket without sending a reply. I would provide an update in the morning as well. No sense in adding to their stress—and a famous bounty hunter connecting me to a wanted rogue was definitely cause for stress.

  Lower lip caught between my teeth, I kicked my boots off and dropped my purse on the little table beside the stairs. As my head spun with questions about Shane and how the hell he’d gotten hold of my old shoes, I hurried into my living room.

  “Twiggy?” I called again. “Where are y—”

  I stopped dead.

  The green faery was right there, but I could see why he hadn’t answered me. Bands of shadow pinned his small frame to the sofa, and his huge green eyes were wide with terror. On the cushion beside him, Hoshi’s serpentine body was bound with the same dark, semi-transparent restraints, the tip of her tail thrashing in agitation.

  A huge black eagle perched on the back of the sofa above her prisoners, glaring at me with vibrant emerald eyes. Shadows rippled off her feathers like wisps of inky smoke, and her deadly talons were embedded in the cushions.

  I stared at the eagle, my heart careening with a suffocating blend of alarm, anticipation, and cold dread. “Lallakai?”

  Chapter Three

  Lady of Shadow. The Night Eagle. Zak’s familiar. I hadn’t seen the fae in months, but if she was here, that meant …

  I spun in a wild circle. “Zak?”

  The enigmatic druid didn’t appear with a sweep of his long black coat. My apartment was silent.

  “Zak?” I called. “You here?”

  Lallakai snapped her beak, and I gave her a squinty look. Was she here alone? No way. She and Zak were never far apart.

  I pointed at my two fae friends. “Would you mind letting them go?”

  Another beak clack. The shadowy bindings on Twiggy and Hoshi dissolved, and the two fae leaped off the sofa. Twiggy skidded behind me and grabbed my legs, hiding from Lallakai’s glare. Hoshi circled me, her long body undulating weightlessly, and settled with her small chin on my shoulder and her tail looped around my waist.

  “Is Zak here?” I muttered to them.

  A flash of dark red in my mind—Hoshi’s telepathic reply. Twiggy confirmed her response with a trembling, “No, the Night Eagle c-came alone.”

  The cold dread in my gut deepened.

  Lallakai unfurled her wings. They spread wider than the length of my sofa, elegant feathers sweeping across the cushions. The shadows swirling around her deepened and she launched off her perch. Darkness rippled across her, obscuring her form as she landed on the floor three long paces away. The shadows dissipated.

  My mouth hung open.

  Gone was the eagle. In her place was … a woman.

  Let’s be clear right now: I like dudes. Always have, always will. But my obsession with manly muscles aside, I’d never before seen an embodiment of sensual femininity like this—and I was getting one hell of an eyeful.

  Tall, elegant, sexy. Her unfairly curvaceous figure was perfectly proportioned: shapely hips narrowing to a petite waist, flat stomach, full bosom, and long, lean legs. All those womanly attributes were unblushingly displayed by an outfit that, while made of beautiful black silk with bold green accents, was more or less a bikini top and a long skirt with equally long slits that ran all the way up to her hips.

  Above her swan-like neck was an oval face with crystalline eyes that watched me from beneath slim, graceful eyebrows. Her full lips were distractingly red, her nose exactly perfect for her cheekbones. Knee-length black hair in loose waves drifted around her in a nonexistent breeze.

  I scanned the fae’s alabaster skin from her bare feet back to her face. Holy freakin’ shit. Zak was totally banging his familiar. How could he not? I wasn’t judging, but damn was I glad I hadn’t slept with him. Not that I’d ever considered it. At least, not seriously.

  Anyway.

  Gulping back my shock, I cleared my throat. “Hello, Lallakai.”

  “Victoria Dawson, human of the Crow and Hammer guild.”

  Even her voice was ridiculously sensual, all purring and throaty. No human woman could compete with that.

  “Where is Zak?” I asked.

  The beautiful fae woman glided forward, her hair swirling around her like it couldn’t decide if gravity was a thing. Halting in front of me, she gazed down into my face with solemn tranquility, three inches taller than my five foot seven.

  Hoshi hissed softly.

  Lallakai’s pupil-less eyes turned to the sylph. Poor little Hoshi held her ground for about five seconds, then her nerve broke. She dove away and shimmered out of sight. I couldn’t blame her.

  Twiggy tightened his hold on my legs, but I knew it wasn’t bravery. He was too petrified to move.

  The Lady of Shadow refocused on me, and I could feel her attention like a tangible weight. Power sweetened the air, the room too dim, the shadows too deep.

  She brushed smooth fingers across my jaw. “What do you think of my druid, Victoria Dawson?”

  I ignored her touch with effort. “In what way?”

  “You are drawn to him.” She leaned in, her honey-sweet breath on my lips. “As are all who know him, fae and human. It is his gift, his curse.”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “Your friend,” she whispered. “Though he is a dark druid? Though he treats with foul beasts, flaunts your laws, and kills when he sees fit?”

  “I know all that about him already. I’m not a fan of murdering people, generally speaking, but he isn’t a bad guy.”

  She studied me, twirling a lock of endless raven hair around her finger. “What would you do for my druid? Would you fight for him? Would you break human laws or take human lives?”

  “That depends.” My muscles tensed. “Is Zak in trouble? I thought you and him were off building huts in the wilderness or something.”

  Early last September, Zak had bid me farewell. His enemies had been getting dangerously close, so he’d shut down his farm and gone into hiding, druid-style. He hadn’t even taken a phone with him.

  Lallakai combed her fingers gently into my hair in a way that was either maternal or loverlike, and it extra freaked me out that I couldn’t tell which. Talk about mixed signals.

  Her gleaming eyes stared into mine. “I must know, Victoria. Can my druid trust you?”

  “Of course he can trust me. I’ve kept his secrets this whole time, haven’t I?”

  “His secrets, yes, but can I entrust you with his life?”

  I was two seconds away from shaking answers out of her. “What’s going on, Lallakai?”

  “My druid is in grave danger. He needs aid that I cannot give him.” She abruptly swept away from me, her hair flowing behind her in gossamer strands. “The news reached us but days ago. We were far from here, having wandered the lands of human and fae for many months.”

  “What news?” I demanded, confused.

  “News of … home.”

  “You mean Zak’s farm?”

  She faced me again, her expression oddly blank. “My druid’s territory, left to the witch to safeguard in his absence, was violated. An enemy breached its protections and …”

  “And what?�
�

  “And laid it to ruin—or so we were told.”

  Cold horror swept through me.

  “My druid was enraged that someone would dare befoul his treasured land. He was inflamed with fury. I could not soothe his raging heart.”

  That sounded bad.

  “He wanted only to return and discover the truth. With haste and without caution, he rushed to secure the fastest route home. We were waylaid at the crossroads—a place of fae power—and he was taken by bounty hunters. They think him a suspicious, unregistered druid. They do not know his identity.”

  My hands tightened into fists and I sucked in air through my nose. Zak, the elusive and untouchable Ghost, had been captured? I would have said it was impossible, except I couldn’t imagine any other reason Lallakai would be here otherwise.

  If bounty hunters had him, and if they figured out who they held prisoner …

  A faint crease marred Lallakai’s perfect forehead. “The hunters are taking him to the city, where they will surrender him to the MPD. That cannot happen.”

  I agreed one hundred percent. If he ended up in MagiPol custody, that would be it for him. But that meant …

  “Hold up. You’re here because you want me to save him?” My eyes narrowed. “Me. The sort-of-witch human. You expect me to rescue Zak from bounty hunters?”

  I tried to imagine rescuing Zak from the six Odin’s Eye mythics who’d been at the bar earlier. I couldn’t picture it at all—and I was pretty sure whatever team had managed to capture Zak would be even tougher.

  Lallakai swept close again, getting way up in my personal space. Her hands caught mine, cool fingers gripping tightly. “You are his friend. You said this. You are drawn to him.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m drawn to—”

  “When you look upon him, you see not a dark druid. Who else could I beg for aid, Victoria? Who would risk anything for him? Only you and I—but I cannot save him.”

  I gulped, a squirmy feeling in my chest. Zak didn’t have friends. He might have allies, but none he could trust while in such terrible danger. Lallakai was right: it was me or no one.

  Shit.