by T J Nichols
“No. Have you?” Mack countered.
“No.” Jude fiddled with the lid on his coffee.
The coffee smelled far too sweet even from across the room, yet he got the feeling that Jude couldn’t get enough of the stuff. It took balls to come into his shop after what had happened. He had to give the witch a bit of credit for that.
The attraction that had been there last night still simmered, eager for more. Mack was forgiving, but he wasn’t stupid. Jude might be.
“Wouldn’t the first thing you do when investigating this kind of thing be to examine the evidence instead of jumping on the first shifter you find?” Mack studied the witch for a moment. Jude concentrated on drinking his coffee. “This is your first time investigating, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. That obvious?”
Mack gave a single nod. He blew out a breath through gritted teeth. “I’ll call around and find out whose cow got killed last night, then you can check it out.”
Jude looked at him.
Mack knew exactly what Jude would ask before Jude’s lips moved. No, he was not going with Jude. He would not help track down a cow killer; he had a shop to run. And if he spent too much time with Jude, there was a very real chance he’d end up doing something dangerous like kissing him again, and that had been…weird. It had been weird because something else had happened. Kisses shouldn’t taste like a storm and leave him wanting more.
“Did you want to come with me and see if you can get a scent?” Jude smiled as though he’d just asked Mack out on a date.
“Do I look like a bloodhound?” He glanced at Jude’s clothing. The same pointy-toed boots, but a different pair of tight-fitting jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket that seemed like it lived a very careful and safe life, much like the shoes. If Jude found this thing and got close, he was going to get himself killed. “Fine. I’ll take you out there, but only because you’d get lost or piss off the farmer.”
“Thank you.”
Mack growled, and Jude stepped back as though ready to run. Before the witch took off, Mack needed a way to contact him. “What’s your number?” Mack wrote the numbers Jude recited, then held out one of his business cards. “In case you need to contact me.”
He’d regret this. He was sure of it.
Jude reached out and snagged the card with his fingertips as though he didn’t want to get too close. That stung, but Mack refused to let it show.
“Are you Robert or Aaron?”
“My father is Aaron. No one calls me Robert unless they don’t know me.” He didn’t know what he wanted Jude to call him.
“Mack it is.” Jude turned the card over in his hand, and then the card vanished. “I am sorry about last night.”
There was a sincerity in his tone that Mack hadn’t expected. “Which bit are you sorry about?”
“That it ended after the kiss.”
Chapter Four
The historical society hadn’t given Jude anything useful—a tourist brochure wasn’t what he needed—and the whole time he’d been thinking about Mack. He needed to find a way to tell him they were bound together until such time Jude figured out a way to undo the familiar bond, or he asked the Coven to undo it—which surely they would when he found the creature, and if he didn’t, the bond wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t be a witch anymore.
He should’ve checked out the dead cows first, but what was he supposed to do, knock on people’s doors and ask? Who wanted to examine dead mutilated things? He didn’t want to look at living cows either. He longed to get back to the city where the buildings reached for the sky and there was no endless horizon.
That horizon stretched out in front of him, broken only by a few rather fragile houses. What remained of Mercy North cowered beneath the clear blue sky as though it wanted to melt into the earth. He parked the car in the middle of the road.
There was nothing and no one around him. Not even a tumbleweed. He knew some people found this kind of thing calming, but he didn’t. Being here was like being on another planet. There were no people, and if something happened to him, no one would care. He’d be forgotten in a heartbeat. He had no one in his life who gave a damn. It was easier that way, and it gave him a reason not to care.
If he really didn’t want to be here or be a witch, he’d have let the Coven strip his magic at the meeting. But he liked being part of something. Even if it was a secret from most people.
The empty windows of the houses stared at him. He shivered.
No one is here, and nothing will happen.
Jude failed at convincing himself. Maybe he’d seen one too many horror movies where the person investigating weirdness died. He took a moment to gather himself before getting out of the car. Then he opened the door, bracing himself for the ancient waft of a curse.
There was exactly no waft of magic, or at least no remains of a curse. But there was something. He reached out with the rest of his senses; sure magic had been worked here. Whether it was the remains of big old magic or small new magic he had no idea, but it didn’t have the dark, sticky taste of a hex. He’d have to tramp around until he found the source. He sighed. He would actually have to investigate.
The buildings of Mercy North appeared to be ready to fall over in the next strong breeze. The road was sprouting weeds and, in some places, had three-foot-high trees. In other places cars had flattened the weeds struggling to grow. Mack had said teens came out here. Maybe they drove through the town instead of parking on the edge like he’d done.
He considered getting back in the car and driving farther in, but he was supposed to be searching for clues as to why the town had died and he needed to be on foot for sensing magic.
His phone rang, and he startled, fumbling before answering. “Hello?”
“Mack. Dead cow is at Morris’s farm. He still has it and he said I could bring you over after lunch. He’s digging the hole this morning.”
“Digging the hole?” His stomach turned. He would really have to look at a dead cow. His stomach did a preemptive flip.
“To bury what’s left of it.”
“Right. Can you take some pictures?” There was no point in them both going out there, and he was sure the pictures would be bad enough.
Mack hung up. That was probably a no.
Jude texted Mack. I’m at North. I’ll be back at your shop by twelve.
He held his phone, hoping for a reply, but didn’t get one. Great, his familiar hated him. He kicked at a weed. Goddamn Fates.
“What on earth were you thinking? I’m an electro-mage. Wouldn’t a cat have been better? Or a snake? Anything but a six-foot-and-then-some bear?” His voice had gotten louder with each word until he was yelling. He thrust his hand out, and a streak of blue trailed from his fingertips and lashed the side of a building. The frustration he’d been feeling since being ordered to go on this mission uncurled.
It was just him out here.
There was no one he could hurt. No wires he could short. No hospital to damage and no city to black out.
He stretched his fingers toward the ground then flung his hands upward. Lightning tore from the ground into the sky. The movement of electrons and the minute differences in charges all obeyed him. He stalked through the town; past warped steps surrounded by broken liquor bottles.
Electricity crackled around him. He threw lightning and tossed balls of blue that could kill an elephant, not that he’d ever killed an animal. He’d never deliberately hurt anyone until Mack. He wasn’t good with people and for the most part he didn’t trust them. Was the Coven doing him a favor by trying to draw him deeper into the paranormal community? He didn’t need that kind of help.
He lashed out, striking a small tree. For the first time in his life, he didn’t try to contain or control his magic. He could use it without risk or worry. The power rushed through him like a drug.
It was intoxicating.
When his anger at the Fates, the Coven, and himself faded, he started to play and experiment with what he cou
ld do. He lost track of time as he created webs of electricity between two houses that crackled before he dispersed them in a shower of sparks. He drew the charge toward him and pushed it away without releasing it as though it were a whip. This was a freedom he’d never imagined because he was always so busy keeping himself in check. Laughter bubbled up.
“So you’re a storm god.”
Jude spun. Mack stood in the road, with his arms crossed. How much had he seen? Anything was too much.
Electricity flicked across Jude’s skin, sparking as it leaped from hair to hair. His breathing was fast, but he was more alive than he’d ever been. And if the Coven learned he’d been out here letting loose, they’d strip him of his magic before he could say “No one got hurt”. People would get hurt if witches were revealed to be real. Landstrom was right, he was dangerous to himself and others, even though he didn’t mean to be. The smoking ramshackle building that had once been a house was testament to that.
“Electro-mage is the modern terminology.” He tried to sound like he knew what he was doing and that he didn’t care Mack had caught him.
“Right. And they sent you here to hunt down a creature that tears apart half ton cows with ease. Aren’t you the wrong kind of witch?”
“How much do you know about witches?”
“Enough.”
“But you live out here.” There was nothing out here, including no Coven. Jude had to admit that was a point in the town’s favor.
“That doesn’t make me ignorant. And you didn’t answer my question.”
Jude licked his lip, his mouth dry. How long had he been out here? He didn’t risk taking his eyes off Mack to look at his phone to check the time. Had Mack been on the Coven’s database? “There are different types of witches, including ones that can talk to animals and rebalance nature.”
Mack was silent.
The air lost some of its charge. Jude’s hair felt a little too big. He smoothed his hand over his head, only to discover his hair was standing on end like he’d been electrocuted, which technically he had been because all that power ran through him.
The shifter’s lips twitched as Jude tried to tame his hair. It was futile. He needed to wash and blow dry his hair to restyle it into the casual, not-trying-too-hard look that he usually aimed for. It took time to appear careless. He was willing to bet Mack didn’t do anything more than step out of the shower, dry off, and dress. He didn’t want to be thinking about a naked Mack. Too late. That door had opened and was not getting slammed shut anytime soon.
“So why did they send the wrong witch for the job?”
“I’m a qualified witch, and the only…investigator…available.” He didn’t mind saying that at all.
Mack stared at him like he could see straight through the lie, then he shrugged. “We’re already thirty minutes late. If you’ve finished trying to raise the ghosts, I suggest we get going.”
“I wasn’t raising ghosts. There’s nothing here to raise. No old hexes. Nothing.” Just the lingering something that he couldn’t place, but the old magic was stronger near the mine entrance. It was probably just an old locator spell to help the miners.
“I was being polite instead of calling it a tantrum.”
“I wasn’t having a tantrum.” He might have been at the start. “I was testing some limits with no one, and no other electrical interference, around.”
They walked back to the cars. Mack’s blue truck was covered in dust. It belonged here. Jude’s neat little rental coupe did not.
“Well, next time you test some limits you might want to think about going farther away as I saw the cloudless storm from town.”
Jude hadn’t considered that. “Lucky you were the one to find me.”
“Yeah, my luck just keeps getting better.”
Now was not the time to break the news about the familiar bond. Would there ever be a right time? “Maybe there’s a non-magical cause to the deaths.” A regular bear or coyote or something. He didn’t even know what kinds of animals lived out here.
“I doubt it. Morris senior said there were claw marks in the ground and that his cow was bled dry.” Mack stopped next to his car.
Jude was close enough to smell the oil on his clothes and see the marks on his pants. He hadn’t bothered to throw on an overshirt, so those nice arms were on display, as was his chest. The T-shirt was doing a good job of covering Mack’s skin without concealing anything. Was it the familiar bond making Mack more attractive or was it still base lust that wanted to be scratched? Jude didn’t know. Working with Mack would be torture. He curled his fingers, so he wasn’t tempted to reach out and run them over the tempting biceps. Mack would probably throw him to the other side of town.
Jude glanced away. He needed to focus on the job. “Vampires don’t have claws, and they don’t like cow blood either.” They didn’t like any blood.
“Vampires don’t leave paw prints the size of my hands.” Mack held up his hand, fingers spread. He had big hands and long fingers.
“That’s not a small animal.”
Mack nodded. “I don’t think you should hunt it on your own.” His gaze dropped to Jude’s now dust-covered boots. “Or in those boots.”
“I bought these boots for this trip.” Farmers wore boots, and these had looked so good he hadn’t been able to say no.
Mack lifted an eyebrow and shook his head. “Where there're cows, there’s cow shit.”
Jude groaned. Another reason to hate nature.
Mack opened his truck door and got in. “Follow me and try not to get lost.” When Jude hesitated, Mack leaned out the door. “I said I’d help you, so you don’t get yourself killed or eaten, but I am not doing this on my own. You’re the investigator, so get your ass in your car.” He slammed the door and started the engine, reversing and driving off before Jude had even gotten in.
Jude smiled and started his car. His familiar still hated him, but he was helping. That had to be a good sign.
Mack kept an eye on his rearview mirror to make sure that Jude was indeed following. The last thing he needed was Jude getting lost on the many dirt roads that ran between farms. It would’ve been better to go in his truck and leave the little rental shoebox in town, but Mack didn’t want Jude in his car, or in his life.
Seeing Jude hurl lightning around had been amazing and terrifying. He’d never seen a witch using magic, and Jude’s display had been spectacular. He was glad he’d logged in to the Coven’s database and discovered what kind of witch Jude was before he’d gone to North. If he hadn’t, it would’ve been a shock. He’d been contemplating calling the Coven if the thing had kept killing the cows, but it was one of those calls he’d been putting off because he didn’t want the Coven poking around.
He’d never expected the stuffy, red-tape-tangled Coven to send a man like Jude. Having seen the power Jude could wield, maybe he was the right witch for the job. Mack was pretty sure nothing would stand a chance against one of those strikes. He almost hadn’t.
He hadn’t stood a chance from one of Jude’s smiles. His lips tingled, and he tried not to think about the kiss. It had tasted like magic, and ever since then every second thought had been about Jude.
Damn witch had believed he was the killer.
Not even his annoyance killed the lust simmering through his veins. No one had ever gotten their hooks into him like that, and he didn’t like it. Jude didn’t need a damn spell if he’d wanted a fuck. Now he wouldn’t get anything. Mack didn’t care if his balls turned blue and dropped off.
He turned into Morris’s driveway and sped up. Jude couldn’t get lost on a straight road up to the house, hopefully. He parked, and Morris came around the side of the house. A cigarette hung out of the old man’s mouth. He raised his hand in greeting as Mack got out.
“How’s it going?”
Morris blew out a cloud of smoke. “Cow’s rotting in the sun, and the rest are spooked. How do you think it’s going? Thought you had someone with you? Some wildlife expert?”
Jude got out, his hair still mussed but tamed.
Morris lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t look like a wildlife expert. Not one of those secret government types, is he?”
Definitely not government. “It’s an agency that investigates the odder animal sightings.”
Morris nodded slowly like he understood perfectly. “Things the government doesn’t want us to know about.”
Mack glanced at Jude. They were both things that people like Morris didn’t need to know about. “Something like that. He didn’t say much.” Which was the truth.
Jude put his hands in his pocket and walked over. He couldn’t have looked less like he knew what he was doing if he’d tried. Jude glanced at Mack then Morris. “Shall we get this done?”
“Yep.” Morris dropped his cigarette butt on the ground, and they followed him through the gate and across the field for about a hundred yards. Not that far from the house, really.
“Did you or your dogs hear anything?” Mack asked, because someone needed to ask questions.
“I heard nothing. The dogs barked for a bit then started whining. I went out with my shotgun but saw nothing. Cows were well spooked and huddling against the fence. I thought it might be a wolf or something so let off a couple of shots.”
They stopped at the blue tarp that had been put over the body. Flies buzzed around the edges. A backhoe sat nearby, waiting to dump the body in the hole.
Jude gingerly picked his way closer, doing a fine job of dodging the cow shit.
Morris lit up another smoke and muttered, “He doesn’t get out much.”
Jude shot them both a glare. “You could help by lifting off the tarp.”
Mack bit back the smile but did as asked.
“Try not to step on those footprints.” Morris pointed to a depression in the ground.
With the tarp off, the full extent of the damage was clear. Jude took photos and for a few minutes played the Coven-sent investigator with several cases under his belt. Then the heel of his boot hit a cowpat, and he skidded. He ended up on the grass cursing the wildlife he was supposed to love.
