by Kant, Komal
I blanched, not at what he’d said—because I already knew all this—but because of who had said it. That voice sounded eerily familiar.
Three figures stepped beneath the streetlight and dread filled me as I recognized them. The angel was beautiful with wavy, medium-length, blonde hair. One of her male companions had dark skin, dark hair, and zany tattoos on his forearms. These two were the ones I’d noticed on the way to Palace. She was the girl who’d slipped on the street and the guy was the one who’d given me the awkward smile. The other male, with his stormy, blue eyes and dark hair, was all too familiar.
It was the bartender from Palace.
Chapter Two
The bartender and I stared at each other for several long seconds, his expression inscrutable. The friendliness he’d shown me in Palace was gone from his face—instead he just looked damn cocky as he grinned at me.
There was only one thing I felt—moronic. But, hey, what could I say? A pretty face and a little sweet talk was enough to throw any girl off her game.
My natural instinct was to reach for my wakizashi, but before I could even make a move for it, the angel snapped, “Don’t even think about reaching for your weapon!”
Goddamnit. There went Plan A.
I redirected my attention to the bartender, or whatever he was. “Do you always go around flirting with underage girls?” I demanded.
He seemed nervous as he glanced back at his companions. “I wasn’t flirting with you, I was doing my job.”
“So your job is to act all nice-like and hit on seventeen-year-olds?”
“I wasn’t hitting on you either.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “I was undercover and, believe me, you’re not my type.”
Trying to push aside my growing embarrassment, I stuffed a hand into my coat pocket, another idea forming on the edge of my mind as my fingers brushing against the remaining strand of angel hair.
“You did a pretty lousy job of it,” I countered. “I think you-”
“So you think about me?” He cut me off with a smirk.
A heat crept up my neck and I was glad the darkness hid the flush of my cheeks. Judging from his widening smirk, somehow he could still tell that I was blushing. Pretty boy was not my favorite person right now.
“The only thoughts I have about you involve me kicking your ass.”
He laughed in a way that made me want to punch him in the face. “Good luck with that, little girl.”
I pointedly ignored his comment. “So who are you guys anyway? The three stooges?”
The guy rolled his eyes at me. “No, genius, if it wasn’t already obvious enough, we’re SRECON.”
My mouth fell open at his words. SRECON, or Supernatural Reconnaissance, were the special agents of the supernatural world who excelled in recon, undercover, and security work. Basically, they were badass.
I’d always wanted to become a SRECON agent after I finished school, and now they were hunting me. This wouldn’t look good on my resume.
“So, Parlum finally brought out the big guns, huh?” I wondered out loud, twisting the strand of angel hair around my finger in distraction.
The guy shook his head. “No, your school did.”
So, Headmaster Delware—who was also my best friend, Misha’s uncle—was the one responsible for sending SRECON agents after me. I would be sure to thank him for that when I saw him next.
“That is enough, Loire. We have no time for her games,” the angel said, her voice musical, yet commanding at the same time.
She stepped forward and studied me in disdain. With her angelic beauty, she suddenly made me feel small and insignificant, like I was a bug that should be squished.
Feeling uncomfortable, I turned away to scrutinize pretty boy. “Loire? Isn’t that a girl’s name?”
“No, it’s French for sexy man beast.” I refrained from rolling my eyes as he turned to look at the other guy who had been silent the entire time. “Tyrone, I think you should restrain her now.”
Tyrone, it turned out, was a demon; something I had failed to notice during our first encounter. Entwined and camouflaged with the tattoos on his forearms were elemental markings all demons were born. His orangey-red ira markings gave him away as a fire user.
I guess I’d found the demon who’d shot the flaming arrows at me, A.K.A. the douchebag who’d killed my corn dog.
Tyrone’s face lit up in a smile similar to the one he’d given me earlier on in the night. “It would be my pleasure.”
Trying to remain calm, I focused all my attention on the chain-link fence and pictured myself climbing over it, hoping that Veritas was still invading my thoughts. At the same time, I innocently took the angel hair from my pocket and clasped it in my hand.
The angel’s eyes widened and I knew that she was in my head again. “She’s going to climb the fence!”
As Loire ran to block my path to the fence, Tyrone waved his fingers in my direction as if he was casting a spell. He had no idea his powers weren’t going to work on me.
One of the magical properties that angel hair possessed was being able to cancel out angel and demon powers. Mortals like me—or whoever the angel had gifted the hair to—were the only ones not affected by it. That’s why Madriel had been so eager to trade information with me for a single strand of angel hair.
When nothing happened, Tyrone stared at me like I’d backhanded him. With his guard down for that split second, I made my move.
Charging in Tyrone’s direction, I made my way toward the entrance of the alleyway as fast as my legs would carry me.
The smirk disappeared from Tyrone’s face as he pushed his hand out at me. A large circle of flame burst forth from his palm, almost engulfing me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” I yelled out.
Naturally, my words fell on deaf ears—Tyrone just laughed and continued to charge at me like the moron I was discovering him to be.
As I moved into the firing line, the flames were pushed away from me like they were being repelled by an invisible barrier, leaving me unscathed.
Tyrone’s mouth dropped open as he lowered his hand and jumped out of way of the flames that were hurtling towards him now.
With him distracted, I continued past him to the end of the alleyway where the warm glow from the streetlights greeted me. Turning, I tossed the angel hair on the ground as I faced the SRECON agents.
The angel’s face turned ashen. “Wh-where did you get that?”
The angel’s surprise was understandable—it was a big deal if an angel gifted you with a strand of their hair because its magic only worked if it was given willingly by the angel, so you couldn’t exactly kidnap an angel and shave all their hair off. Also, the power of the hair didn’t last forever and the longer it was apart from the angel the quicker it lost its magic and became, well, hair.
I feigned a yawn, even thought my heart was still racing. “I wish I could chit-chat.” I paused to study them with a wry smile. “But I have things to do, people to see. It was great meeting you guys, really. You should friend me on Facebook, maybe keep up with my check-ins.”
They met me with a stunned silence, and as much as I wanted to gloat about the fact that I had just outwitted three SRECON agents, I couldn’t risk sticking around because Loire could still cross the angel hair and dispose of it. Then they’d be after me again.
“Katerina, wait! We just want to take you back to school!” the angel called out, but I didn’t pay her any attention.
She was clever, probably trying to delay me while Loire released them from the spell of the angel hair, which he could only do by burning it. Too bad Tyrone’s powers were null and void.
Without another backwards glance, I slipped out of the alleyway.
I had a witch to find.
***
It took me a solid half hour before I finally managed to locate Elusian Avenue.
It was a tiny dead end alleyway just as Madriel had said. On the left was the back of some warehouse type
building, which only left me with the right side of the alleyway to inspect.
Only one store looked functional—there was brass wind chimes in the shape of stars hanging at the front, and if the ‘Fortunes read here’ sign wasn’t enough to point me in the right direction then the black cat sitting outside definitely was.
The cat approached me and weaved its way in between my legs before staring up at me with large, green eyes. This cat seemed friendly enough, unlike my great-aunt’s cat that was a stuck up, evil, spawn of Satan.
“Hey, kitty,” I said, extending a hand to scratch it behind its ear.
The cat purred and rubbed itself against my leg before letting out a ‘meow’ and walking towards the entrance of the store. It glanced back at me, as though wanting me to follow, before slipping in through the cat door and disappearing inside.
Well, if that wasn’t a mystical sign then I didn’t know what was.
When I pushed open the door, clutter and the smell of incense greeted me. The shop was quaint—numerous books were stacked haphazardly on wooden shelves, dried herbs filled baskets, and tarot cards, dream catchers, and a box of healing crystals sat by the front counter.
There was no sign of the cat anywhere, so I took a few minutes to explore the store. While I was in the process of studying an interesting book about ancient artefacts, a dry cough alerted me to someone’s presence.
Spinning around, I brandished my wakizashi and took on an offensive stance as I faced the stranger. It was a woman so old it was hard to believe she was still alive. Her body was clothed in flowing black and purple silks and her short hair was as white as snow. The numerous lines etched across her weary face made her features look small and shrivelled up. She leaned heavily on a wooden cane as she watched me.
“Do you really think an old woman like me could harm you, Katerina?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I could hear her clearly.
I felt stupid for feeling threatened by a random old woman, but then I realized she’d just referred to me by name. Freaky.
“Is that a magic wand?” I pointed to her cane as I lowered my weapon.
“This isn’t Hogwarts.” She laughed, making her seem much younger for a brief second. “So you have recognized me for what I am?”
“The kitschy tarot cards were kind of a giveaway.” I shrugged as I gazed around the store. “Plus, you have a black cat. You’re Valeska.”
“Yes, that’s right. And that cat is Belle. She told me you were outside.”
Huh. Was she one of those crazy cat ladies who thought their cats could speak to them?
I chose to drop the cat topic. “I’ve been told you’re the only person who might be able to help me.”
Valeska tilted her head to the side and regarded me with electric blue eyes. “Perhaps I can, but everything in life comes at a price. Are you willing to pay it?”
When I didn’t say anything, she gestured for me to follow her. “We will not speak of it here.”
Stowing my wakizashi in its sheath, I strode after her as she disappeared through a doorway covered by a long, beaded curtain.
I followed her through the doorway and stopped in surprise as I absorbed the eclectic room I was now standing in. The smell of incense was much stronger here, and numerous candles lit up the large tribal masks hung on the walls, casting eerie shadows across the floor.
Statues of gods and goddesses, a large crystal ball, and a neglected looking Ouija board sat on the shelves. Silk, purple drapes had been hung on the walls like a backdrop. I guess purple was her color. I wondered how much of this stuff she actually used or if they were only there to set the mood.
There was a couch against the wall, but Valeska guided me towards two large cushions that had been placed on the floor on either side of a low coffee table. A piping hot kettle and two mugs sat on top as though she had been expecting company.
Valeska sat down and I followed suit, crossing my legs and making myself comfortable on the soft cushion. I watched as she poured what I assumed was tea into each mug and pushed one towards me.
Taking a whiff, I almost gagged. There was a sickly sweet smell to it, like cough syrup that had been heated up.
I hastily pushed the cup aside and frowned at her. “Is this some sort of poison?”
“It’s prune juice.”
Holy hell, it was way worse than I’d thought.
“Oh God, you’re joking.” Who in their right mind would drink prune juice? Seriously.
“There isn’t much humor in prune juice, Katerina,” Valeska said quite seriously as she took a sip of the putrid smelling liquid.
“I guess not.” I shuddered and peered into the cup again. “Does prune juice have some sort of magical property?”
“Don’t be silly, child. They help with my bowel movement.”
Suppressing a shudder, I watched Valeska drink her prune juice. After a few minutes she appeared to be drifting off, so I cleared my throat.
Valeska’s eyes fluttered open and she eyed me warily. “What is it?” She seemed irritated that I had interrupted her nap.
I got straight to the point. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“You are here to find out a dark secret. Something that has been plaguing you for weeks, tormenting you in your sleep.” She said this like we were discussing the weather.
I leaned forward eagerly. “Can you give me the answers that I need? Do you know?”
“I can tell you what you wish to know, but I have already told you that this knowledge comes at a price. What do you have in exchange?”
A sick feeling started up in the pit of my stomach and I bowed my head in frustration. “I-I did have something for you; angel hair.”
Silence met me and I looked up to see a glint in Valeska’s eyes. “That is rather remarkable. Angel hair comes in handy for a witch’s magic, but I see that you do not have it in your possession anymore.”
I shook my head as the sick feeling intensified. “No, I don’t.”
“So then what are you willing to give up in exchange for the information you need?”
“Anything,” I blurted out, then reconsidered my answer. “Well, anything except my friends and family, or my kidneys.”
“Unfortunately, I have no need for any of those things.” Valeska studied me in a way which made me avert my gaze in discomfort. I wracked my brains trying to figure out what I could exchange with her—my wakizashi, maybe—when she spoke again. “Maybe there is something you could give me.”
My ears perked up at that and I glanced over at her again. “What?”
“It’s called a blood promise. It is an ancient witch tradition.”
“What does that mean exactly?” I had been warned that witches could be tricky. There was no way I was going to make a promise to give away my first born child or something insane like that.
“You will make an oath to me that if I ever call upon you for a favor, you will do as I say, regardless of any reservations you might have at the time.”
I wasn’t a moron. That was a big ask. She wasn’t being specific about what the favor would entail.
“I don’t know.” I trailed off.
“You do not have to do anything you do not wish to, but our paths have already been laid out for us. We are destined to meet again, Katerina.”
“You could ask me to do anything.” I put a stress on the last part.
“I could.” Valeska’s expression didn’t change. “But that doesn’t mean I will.”
As I let her words sink in, I went over my options—there weren’t many left for me. If those SRECON agents had found me once, they’d be able to do it again easily. Okay, so I had no options left; I’d just have to take a huge, stupid chance on this.
“Fine.” I nodded. “I’ll do it.”
With a smile, Valeska stood up and hobbled towards a cupboard in the back where she rummaged around for a few seconds. She returned carrying a knife and a small, wooden bowl with weird symbols carved on the outside.
&nb
sp; I eyed her cautiously, and my hand shot to my wakizashi as she resumed her seat and placed the items on the table. “What’s that for?”
She took the knife and used the pointed end to pierce her wrinkly flesh. A small drop of blood fell into the bowl. “This is how a blood promise is made.” She handed the knife to me and pushed the bowl across the table.
So maybe the “blood” part should’ve been a dead giveaway, but I hadn’t taken the meaning quite so literally. I stared at the tiny drop of blood in the bowl, hesitating as every impulse in my body told me not to do it. There was something dark about what she was asking me to do.
Reluctantly, I pushed the knife into my finger and winced as it stung my skin. I reached for the bowl and let it catch a small drop of my blood.
Valeska swiftly took the bowl away and placed it under the table before pulling out a deck of large cards from the folds of her silks.
“Are we going to play strip poker?” I asked, trying to lighten the darkness of the situation that had transpired seconds ago.
Ignoring my question, she held out the cards to me. “Shuffle these and think of what you wish to know, and then hand them back to me.”
Wiping away the blood that was still dripping from my finger, I took the cards from her and shuffled them, trying to focus on why I was here.
I want to know who killed Avangelista Melkane.
Valeska’s eyes sparked as though she had heard me, and a shiver ran down my spine as I handed the cards back to her.
“Now-” Valeska’s eyes went wide and the cards dropped from her hands and fell onto the table in an arc. A single card lay face up, which seemed weird to me, but before I could study it properly, Valeska clutched my hand in a vice grip.
“What’s wrong?” The words died on my lips as my eyes shot to her face.
The whites of Valeska’s eyes were visible as her head rolled around precariously on her neck at weird angles, like she was having a seizure. She was shaking so hard that my entire body was shaking along with her.
