Dangerous Magic

by Evie Hart

  “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” I mumbled, pulling the sheets over my head.

  “Nope.” She swiped at the covers. “You told me not to let you sleep. You told me you had to get up early to see the shifters, then you have a lesson with the flying mouse.”

  “Ugh.” I yanked the covers off my body and sat up. “Aristotle is a bat.”

  Snow blinked at me. “A flying mouse.”

  “He’s not a rodent. He told you that.”

  “You only like him because he has a fancy accent. Like Angus.” She hopped off the bed after me and followed me into my bathroom.

  I splashed cold water on my face to wake me up. My eyes were sticky with all the sleep I hadn’t gotten thanks to the ghost and the bat.

  “You like him more than me. I knew this would happen. And after I peed on that man’s backseat for you!”

  “Oh, stop it.” I flicked water in her direction. “I do not like Aristotle more than I like you. It’s not my fault you’ve got the temperament of a thirteen-year-old getting her first ever period.”

  If cats could gasp, I’d swear she did.

  “And you peed on Dax’s backseat for your pleasure, not mine.”

  She circled my ankles. “Maaaaybe. And Dax now, is it?”

  “Stop it.” I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste. I was too tired to eat, so it didn’t matter that it might make food taste like centaur poop. Coffee was another matter, but maybe Ana-May had something to make it taste better…

  “I don’t like that arrogant witch. I like the elf. Orion.”

  I looked down at her. She licked her paw and wiped it over her face while staring dreamily at the tiles in my shower.

  Did my cat have a crush on an elf?

  “I don’t know anything about Orion,” I replied and spat out the toothpaste. “And don’t tell me you’re crushing on him.”

  “The only thing I crush on is a can of tuna. Which was what I got when he sent me to the nice people in his village.”

  I rolled my eyes and washed my face properly. There were light bags under my eyes, and I knew I’d need more concealer than I cared to think about to hide them.

  Ugh.

  That was what two bad nights of broken sleep did to you.

  Made you look like a zombie.

  Which, for the record, existed. They just weren’t very, ahem, productive members of society.

  “The elf sent flowers. You should date him. The only thing the witch has sent is stress.”

  Oh, Goddess, she never stopped.

  Instead of replying, I walked back into the bedroom. Snow was hot on my heels. She was apparently uncharacteristically invested in my non-existent dating life, and I knew exactly why.

  If I was focused on dating, I wasn’t focused on Aristotle. Who was, in her eyes, a traitor.

  I was waiting for her to pee on him, in all honesty.

  “You know, for a little cat, you’re awfully insecure.” I pulled some shorts and a tank from my dresser along with underwear to change and shot her a side-eye. “You know Aristotle will never take your place, right? You heard Grandma. You’re with me for life, Snow.”

  “I’m not insecure, and I’m not little. I’m practically a lion. Look at me.” She bared her teeth and me and hissed.

  “Lions roar,” I reminded her, pulling up my shorts and doing up the button. “They don’t meow or hiss, nor do they refuse to walk through mud because they don’t like getting dirty.”

  “I’m a classy lion.”

  “You licked your butt during dinner last night.” I grabbed my keys from the bowl on top of my dresser and left my room.

  “I like to be clean!” Snow mewled, following me. “I’m not going with you today. I’m not going to see those filthy dogs.”

  Oh, dear Goddess. She was in a foul little mood. “Good. I don’t want you coming.”

  “That’s why I don’t like the witch. He smells like dog.” She padded along behind me. “Will you feed me before you go?”

  I glanced at the clock. “No. I’m going to get coffee, then I’m going to see the wolves. Aunt Rose will feed you in half an hour when she gets up.”

  Snow circled the table leg three times before she padded over to the patch of sun that reflected on the floor thanks to the sun glaring through the window. “I’m being starved,” she mumbled, circling the warmth there, too, before she plopped down and curled up.

  I wasn’t going to respond to that.

  Cats were so dramatic. It was like living with an entire high school in one little, furry body.

  I left the farm, locking the door behind me. After a quick pit-stop at Ana-May’s to buy a coffee with a shot of energizing potion, I made my way toward the shifter territory. Unlike the elves and the druids, the shifters liked to live in town.

  They were spread out, for the most part. They did try to integrate in terms of living, but pack stuff was all private. I understood that—witches did rituals, too, and I couldn’t think of anything more invasive than having someone who wasn’t a witch be a part of it.

  That aside, I was heading for the alpha’s property. Lorenzo Martinez had been the alpha of the Haven Lake werewolf pack for over fifty years. It seemed like a long time, but paranormals lived longer than humans. It was another reason we didn’t do well in the human world.

  We aged abnormally slow.

  I hadn’t seen or spoken to him for years, and from what I could remember, he was one hell of a moody pain the backside. Unfortunately, there was a hierarchy in packs, and I wasn’t stupid enough to undercut the alpha for information.

  If he slammed the door in my face, however…

  Well, I was ambitious enough to undercut him then.

  The walk through town was pleasant. The sun wasn’t high enough in the sky yet to be too hot, and while a gentle breeze circled the lake, it was just that. Gentle, like a fresh breath across your skin.

  I made my way out of the center of town and toward the alpha house. It wasn’t hard to spot, even from a few minutes’ walk away. It was large, imposing, and fit the old style of many of the larger buildings here.

  Exposed brick made up much of the exterior. The lawn in front of the house was perfectly trimmed, the flowerbeds beautifully tended to, and two stone wolves sat at the end of the drive like protectors where you’d normally expect lions to sit.

  Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I walked up the path to the ostentatious front door.

  People could say witches were the top of the paranormal food chain all they liked, but the werewolves were the flashiest.

  Oh, look, was that a Ferrari in the drive?

  Cue eye roll.

  I sipped my coffee before I knocked on the door. A part of me wished I’d worn something smarter than a pair of denim cut-offs and a flowy tank top that made my boobs look three times bigger than they were.

  Never mind.

  I couldn’t even glamor something because the door opened. The man behind it was tall, and his muscular frame filled out the smart, butler-esque black suit he wore. A black jacket and black waistcoat were complemented by a perfect white shirt and crisp black bow-tie.

  Seemed a little excessive for May in Georgia, but okay.

  “Can I help you?” He peered down at me with cold, amber eyes.

  “Yes. I’m here to—”

  “See me.” A man much, much younger than the silver-haired guy in front of me stepped forward, gently touching a large, rough hand to the arm of the guy who’d greeted me. “Thank you, Samuel. Avery is a little early, but never mind. She does like to buck the trend of women being late.”

  The stranger winked at me.

  “Uh, of course,” I said, flashing Samuel a smile. “Sorry.”

  “I wasn’t aware you were expecting anyone, Cameron.”

  Cameron tutted, shaking his head. “Now, Samuel, do I tell you everything?”

  “I prefer it that you don’t,” Samuel replied dryly. “You run along with Ms. Thorn. Your father is in a meeting with Detective Sand
ers.” Samuel flashed me a glance, and I swore he was hiding a chuckle.

  Apparently, my investigational antics were becoming popular.

  “Yes, let’s do that.” I stepped inside as Samuel moved and grabbed Cameron’s arm. “Let’s go…”

  “Let’s go to the kitchen.” Dark eyes peered down at me with amusement. “Is your coffee empty? Can I get you another?”

  “You know, that sounds great. Thanks.”

  The young shifter guided me through an opulently-styled hallway, complete with antique vases and old family paintings, into a white-and-chrome kitchen that was surprisingly modern.

  “Take a seat.” He motioned to the stool at the curved island, and I sat. “How do you take your coffee? Black? Sugar? Cream?”

  “Cream and one sugar, please.” And a shot of whatever these shifters are taking to be so dang good-looking.

  Cameron nodded, flashing me a flirty grin as he turned toward a state-of-the-art coffee machine that wouldn’t look out of place in any coffee shop.

  I took a moment to look him over as he worked.

  What? I was a red-blooded woman. Full of a bucket load of magic, but red-blooded all the same. I could appreciate a handsome man. Sure, there seemed to be a lot in Haven Lake right now, but whatever.

  Cameron had broad shoulders and the kind of biceps that would fill out the most basic of t-shirts. His hair was dark and unruly, curling around his ears and the nape of his neck, and as he turned, I caught a glimpse of the dark hair that coated his jaw somewhere between a five o’clock shadow and a short beard.

  Dang shifters.

  They were born with a pheromone gene that activated at puberty, I swear.

  “So.” Cameron turned and put a steaming mug of perfectly colored coffee in front of me. He leaned forward on the island, a mug of his own in his left hand, and smirked at me. “What brings Avery Thorn, descendent of the greatest witch family in Haven Lake, to my lowly abode?”

  “Lowly abode? You could run a boarding school out of this place.” The words escaped me before I could stop them, and I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth. “I mean—”

  He laughed, dropping his head back. “Don’t worry. I’m teasing you, Red.”

  I dropped my hand and glared at him. “Oh, Red. That’s original. Did you think that up all by yourself?”

  Well, so much for minding the shifter’s famous temper.

  Cameron’s lips tugged to one side, amusement flashing in his dark brown eyes. “Came to me in the shower,” he drawled. “So, Avery Thorn, tell me. Why are you here?”

  I sipped my coffee. It was rich and dark, just like the man in front of me. Although, I doubted the shifter held the sugar my cup did…

  “I think you already know,” I said slowly, making sure to keep my eyes on his.

  His gaze was intense and intimidating, a storm of darkness that would make any shifter in his pack cower in his presence.

  Except I wasn’t in his pack.

  Nobody grew up with Cherry Thorn without learning how to hold their own.

  And I was nothing if not Cherry Thorn’s granddaughter.

  I held his gaze, making sure to sip my coffee as I did so. I didn’t flinch as he rested his hands on the counter and leaned forward, closing the distance between us in a clear-cut alpha tactic.

  I twitched my pinky finger, sending a cooling spell toward his mug. “You should check your coffee. I think it’s cold.”

  “I doubt that, Red. I just poured it.”

  I imagined a rope twisting around his ankles, holding him still, and twirled my foot as if it were circling his.

  He took a step back before his hands gripped the edge of the counter. His dark eyes flashed with anger. “You dare perform magic on the future alpha?”

  “You dare treat me like I’m beneath you because I’m a witch? I’m here to talk to you, not insult you,” I shot back. “I know the shifters are inclusive, Cameron Martinez, but I’m a Thorn witch. You’ll push me over when I’m dead. If you’re lucky.”

  He ground his teeth together. “I apologize for my oversight. Would you please remove your spell?”

  I snapped my fingers to release it.

  “You’re here to discuss the boundary issues with the druids.” He didn’t ask. It was a statement. “I assume you’ve been to speak with them already.”

  “I have,” I replied slowly. “But I’m impartial. I’d like to hear your side of things.”

  “My side, or the shifters’ side?”

  “Are they different?”

  “It depends who you ask?”

  “Would you like me to bind your ankles again?”

  Cameron grinned. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m persuasive.”

  “Sure, that’s what you call it.” He chuckled low before picking up his coffee mug. “Could you reheat this for me?”

  “Say please.”

  “Please.”

  I licked my lower lip and pointed my finger at it. “Done.”

  He sipped. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, talk.”

  Cameron chuckled. “You, little witch, are quite something.”

  I glared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Let’s sit.” He gestured to the plush, cream sofas that added a comfortable area to the modern kitchen. It was partially closed off by half-height walls, but I grabbed my coffee and followed Cameron over to them.

  We sat on the sofas opposite to each other. I tucked one ankle beneath the other while Cameron sat comfortably, legs wide open with his mug resting on his left knee.

  I blinked at him.

  He grinned.

  Great. Another egotistical guy I had to deal with.

  “What can you tell me? I know there are significant issues between the shifters and the druids.” I paused, hugging my cup. “I’d like to hear your side, I’ve already told you that.”

  “You’re the reason cops are swarming the boundary area.”

  I said nothing.

  Cameron scratched the side of his jaw, watching me. “Why should I trust you?”

  I put my coffee cup on the side table. “Because the police will automatically assume a shifter is responsible.”

  “Close to the police, are you?”

  “Not particularly.” My tone was sour. “I do, however, have a brain of my own.”

  “What are you doing here, Avery?”

  Sighing, I sat up straight. “Before Betty Lou Harper died, she made me promise I’d find out who tried to poison her. I’m in too deep to give up,” I admitted. “I want to do right by someone I respected.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “I understand that. I’ll tell you this: yes, we are having issues with the druids. Our young do go too close to the boundary, but it’s merely to see how far they can get. The druids retaliate. Nobody gets hurt.”

  “What if somebody gets hurt?”

  “Then a civil war is on the cards.”

  “You’d do that over, what, ten feet of land?”

  “Do you know what you’re talking about?”

  “Yes, actually.” I scooted forward and met his eyes. “That land your young is trespassing on? That’s important to the druids. Herbs and poisons grow there. Those plants are vital for their children in their Herbology lessons. Shifters have their sense of smell to tell them what’s poisonous, but others need their eyesight and nothing less.”

  Cameron paused. “Are you one of those?”

  I nodded. Once. “I was taught from a young age how to tell the difference between similar plants. I could save your life if I had to.”

  “My nose would save my life.”

  “So? I’ll shove paper towels up your nose,” I replied. “Then how would it help you?”

  “I see what you’re saying.”

  “Do you? Cameron, I could compromise you with magic and kill you in minutes with my knowledge of Herbology.”

  “All right. There’s no need to show off.” He rubb
ed his jaw. “And the land my father is pushing for is the land they need?”

  “Yes. The plants that grow in the no man’s land between your territories are important to the druids. At the very least, your young need to stop pushing the boundaries. One day, they could create a potion to save one of your people. Is land more important than the safety of your pack?”

  His eyes flashed. “Nothing is more important than the safety of my pack.”

  “Then I hope you’ll take my conversation to your father.”

  “I will.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You think this is related to Betty Lou’s death?”

  I shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. Nobody has a clear motive, yet so many people have a reason to kill her.”

  “Is that right?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  THE DULCET TONES of Lorenzo Martinez filled the air as he walked into the kitchen.

  He was at least six-foot-five. He towered above just about everything, and he had to actually bend forward to operate the fancy coffee machine.

  I didn’t answer.

  He didn’t want one.

  Again: my grandmother had taught me well.

  Cameron flashed a cautious glance my way, but I never let my gaze waver from Lorenzo.

  Shifters thrived on power. Wolves were the top of the shifter hierarchy, and while disrespect was worthy of death, they never stepped back from a challenge.

  Lorenzo was getting a challenge.

  He leaned back against the counter in front of the coffee machine. He wrapped his long, thick fingers around the red mug in his hands, and he focused his gaze on me.

  He had the blackest eyes. They were framed by thick, dark eyebrows that complimented the messy cut of hair that was on top of his head.

  If the alpha and his son had anything in common, it was their hair.

  “Father—”

  Lorenzo shot Cameron a look right as I snapped my finger and thumb together to shut his mouth.

  Cameron shot me a panicked look.

  Lorenzo’s look was anything but panicked. His was amused. “A witch, in my house, disrespecting my son.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Martinez,” I said. “I was merely saving you the job of shutting your son up.”

  His lips twitched. “Release his lips, Ms. Thorn. He’s already learned his lesson where you’re concerned, hasn’t he?”