by Lisa Ladew
And then Gemma got spooked all over again because right there by the sink on the vanity was her toothbrush and toothpaste, her face wash and makeup case. Gemma took a closer, more curious glance in the shower and found her shampoo and body wash on some recessed tile shelves above the built-in seat.
Gemma walked out of the bathroom in a daze, thinking she might sit on the comfy-looking couch for a minute or twenty and get her mental legs back under her, because this was too much. Had Flint and Goldie and Cora gone through her stuff, or was there more at play here? Goldie had said that Resperanza was magic, but surely she didn’t mean… magic? On the way to the couch Gemma’s eyes caught on a wall of black-framed, rice paper-paned sliding screens that separated the office from the space behind them. One end showed a gap.
Gemma steadied herself, strode toward it, slid the screen aside to reveal the room beyond. And for just that moment her heart stopped beating.
The style was almost purely Japanese, from the low, black wooden platform bed to the perfect feng shui she could see at a glance, thanks to Sakura’s studied arrangement of every new home. A painting of a weeping cherry tree, ripe with the blushing blossoms after which Gemma’s mother was named, hung on the wall over the bed, flanked by built-in recessed bookshelves.
Nerves forgotten, Gemma walked to the far side of the bed for a closer look at the books that lined the shelves there, looking vaguely familiar with their matching cloth bindings and gold script. Her lips cracked a smile when she recognized them. Nancy Drew. First editions. Just like the ones she… Gemma’s face fell. Wait, wait, wait. No, that’s not possible. Mom and Pop told me they put them in storage.
She snatched a book off the shelf and opened the front cover, so sure she couldn’t be seeing what was staring her straight in the face: the name “Gemma Jackson” written in halting, childish letters, and beneath it her first name again, but in Japanese. And she somehow knew without confirming that she would find the same in every single book she checked.
Too much! Gemma slammed the book back in its place and rushed to the other side of the bed to look at those bookshelves, too. But she stopped short when she was still a yard away and put her hand to her fluttering heart.
The shelves on this side held non-fiction: true crime, writing handbooks, even a few texts on languages. All of them Gemma’s, from the apartment in Atlanta she’d last set foot in less than twenty-four hours ago. On the third shelf, between a book about binary languages, stood a small, decorative tree. It appeared to be made of copper, thin metal wires wound together for the trunk and branches, sheeting cut for the leaves, and all of it soldered together to form a unique work of art.
And right in the center, hanging from a pair of copper branches, dangled the pair of delicate freshwater pearl earrings her grandmother had sent to Gemma’s mother when she was born. The pearls were strung in a loop, interspersed with little shards of bright green jade, and they had come with a matching necklace. Tucked in the box with the set had been a card addressed to Gemma, promising she would grow into the luck the pearls contained, and that when she did they would be waiting.
Gemma sighed. How long until I stop wishing that had turned out to be true?
She had told her hosts - covenmates? - about Riot saving a girl from getting raped at a graduation party. She had just conveniently left out the fact that the attempted rapist had been Riot’s cousin, and that the girl had been her. Gemma. Because first of all, what did it matter to them? The point was that Riot was a good guy.
But also, Gemma didn’t really tell anyone about that night. Not because she was ashamed. She knew that nothing that had happened had been her fault. It’s just that it was private, and in some small, fucked-up way it was the only intimate thing she shared with Riot. One of only two times in her life before tonight that Gemma had needed a hero, and Riot had been there.
It had been stupid of her to go to the party in the first place, seeing as she didn’t know anyone else who would be there. Riot’s cousin Shain had gone to a different high school, one town and two tax brackets south of theirs, but it was all the same when a party was going down. She had assumed that Riot would be there, too.
Riot had graduated. She might never see him again. That night was her last chance to tell Riot how she really felt about him. At least if he turned her down she wouldn’t have to see him at school every day. So she’d tried to look her best, borrowing a dress from a friend and wearing her lucky earrings and necklace, innocent hopes high. And from the moment she and Shain were introduced, Riot’s cousin had given her the white-glove treatment.
She had been dazzled, not least because Shain and Riot could have been identical twins, they looked so much alike. Only a certain hardness in Shain’s eyes had allowed her to tell the difference between them as he promised her Riot would be showing up fashionably late. Shain had filled Gemma’s red plastic cup with cheap wine, reassuring her that the alcohol content was so low there was no way she’d get drunk. “Just sip it,” he’d leaned over and whispered in her ear, a little closer than necessary. “That way nobody bugs you to drink the harder stuff.” Gemma had smiled and thanked him for the advice as she subtly pumped him for information about Riot.
But when she had started to feel dizzy a few minutes later, Gemma realized she had been drugged. She tried to get away from Shain, but she was too small, and too uncoordinated in her drugged state to fight him off. He had picked her up easily and carried her to a bedroom. After that it had been a mad scramble of arms and legs, hot breath and wet lips touching her. She had tried to scream, but had never been sure if she had. Her necklace had been ripped off in the struggle, lost forever.
And those were just the things Gemma could remember, thanks to the drugs Shain had slipped her. All she really knew was that she had been fighting him off and then suddenly she wasn't anymore. She’d heard punches being thrown and taken, then felt herself being lifted in arms that felt strong and safe to her. She remembered waking up in an unfamiliar car, freaking out, but then those same strong arms wrapped around and soothed her, held her close, and she realized when he murmured words of comfort that it was Riot.
In that moment Gemma’s young heart had broken wide open. She was grateful that Riot had saved her, of course, but devastated as well. What chance could she possibly have with him romantically, when from the sound of things Riot had beat up his own cousin to save her? The next thing Gemma could remember was Riot dropping her off at her parents’ house, where she’d stumbled to her bed to sleep.
When she woke up it had all felt like a horrible nightmare, and life had gone on without anyone else changing, though the effects had reverberated throughout Gemma’s existence for years afterward. It could have been so much worse, though, and rumor had it that if Shain had gotten his way, it would have been. He had been collecting money from other guys at the party. The very next day Gemma had convinced her next-older brother, home on leave before deployment, to teach her to fight, determined never again to need a hero.
Gemma had worked hard to let her fantasy around Riot go, too. It wasn’t until halfway through her senior year of high school that she’d found out that Riot had gone to prison. She had been shocked, devastated for him, but it had also pushed her to move on.
Not because she’d written him off; she just couldn’t live in the past. To her, Riot would always be the white knight, the one who’d saved her innocence, maybe her life. He could murder someone and she’d still sing his praises. As long as he had a decent reason. Which he would.
She’d still looked Riot up every couple of years, though, usually after she’d broken a big story or broken up with her latest hit-and-run boyfriend, the only kind she could have with her crazy schedule. But every time he’d still been in prison. He’d even been the reason, in a roundabout way, that she had taken steps and gotten over her phobia. But Gemma never actually thought she’d see him again.
She’d never even worn the earrings again, though nowadays they were among the few material treasure
s Gemma bothered to guard. They stayed in her apartment, locked in the fire safe that was calibrated to open only with her fingerprint, and where she stored her birth certificate, social security card, all her most important possessions. There was no way anybody but her could get to those earrings.
Gemma’s knees went weak at the realization and she side-stepped to the bed, lowering herself to the surface as her mind ran chaotic. Goldie had hinted at it in the garage and already so many things had happened that confirmed it… magic. It was all magic. She was magic. A savage switch. A vampire vanquisher. A magical mamacita.
This was so much more than just being here on a story. She was home. She’d been led here.
Gemma laughed to herself, all the confusion of the last ten minutes dissolving as she got to her feet and spun slowly in the center of this space which she now understood to be hers.
Truly hers.
She hadn’t spent her life looking for the something that was missing, but she’d found it just the same.
Chapter 11 - Carick’s Conniption
Riot woke the next morning after not nearly enough sleep, in yesterday’s clothes, with a crick in his neck from hanging half-off the bed. Time to get used to sleeping as a human again.
The sound of voices in the big room on the other side of the basement propelled Riot out of bed. Pushing his flop of black hair into submission, Riot gave his pits a sniff and decided a shower could wait. Gemma had made him so uneasy last night, with all that talk of chasing down stories, he couldn’t wait to get away from her. Now that he’d had some time to think, Riot wanted to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t get a whiff of any mysteries she shouldn’t.
Out of his room and into the larger space, and Riot could tell that Jameson was already in leader mode. The Keeper, as he was called, stood in the center of the rec room with his straight back to Riot, his shoulders set wide with the power of the white wolf inside. He was with Shiloh, who was telling him the story of what they’d found in the forest.
“Biggest cat prints I ever saw, J. Boot prints, too. And somebody Undid that vampire but neither of the prints looked like they were small enough to belong to a female. So unless a switch was riding piggyback or swinging from the fucking trees, I don’t know what to tell you.” Shiloh caught Riot’s eye, as if to say it was up to him to spill the beans about the switch he’d encountered before he knew what switches were; Shiloh wasn’t going to do it. And Riot knew he’d have to eventually, but right now wasn’t the moment.
Shiloh moved across the room to talk to Darby, who Riot had just noticed was sitting on a stool by the bar, looking bored on purpose.
Riot had only known Darby a couple of weeks, but he’d given her rides to work at the Bear Claw Diner and stayed for a slice of pie and conversation, so he’d seen her in action plenty. With her bright magenta hair, curvaceous body, and flawless makeup, Darby was naturally the center of attention of any room she was in. Only now here she was, shuttled off to the side and staying silent.
The door from the driveway outside opened, and Carick strode in. Carick was seven feet of solid authority. Which meant Riot mostly ignored him. Instead he turned away from the big guy and headed for the bar, and a tray piled high with piping hot croissants stuffed with ham and gooey cheese.
It was times like this when Riot wished that there wasn’t so much between him and being fully committed to The Cause, if only for the snacks.
He said hello to Darby and asked about her recovery from the car crash. She said she’d be “back on that bull faster than a horny cowgirl”, which he guessed meant she’d be waiting tables at the Bear Claw again soon. Then Riot heard a crowd of footsteps coming down the stairs and turned to look, his heart crawling into his throat on the way.
Here we go again. Does she know or doesn’t she? And Great Cat, could his guts not twist in knots every damn time the question came up?
Cora came first, her bright smile aimed at Jameson as she walked right up and kissed him. Riot glanced away when the Keeper grabbed Cora around the waist, her sage-green glow flaring, and kept her there longer than she seemed to have planned. He heard Cora giggle when J finally let her go. The magical assassin and her handler; how’s that for a match made in heaven, he thought, surprised at his own bitterness.
Flint and Goldie were next, and to Riot’s surprise the big bear didn’t bust his chops right away, like he usually did. In fact, was that a new kind of look he shot Riot? Not friendly by any means, but maybe a little less murderous? Now what did I do to deserve that?
Goldie smiled at Riot just as sweetly as she ever did, her shamrock green aura as clear as her intentions, but there seemed another layer of kindness added today. And then it occurred to him.
He was worried about Gemma digging up dirt on his present activities, not to mention the shifter thing, but had she created another problem? Told the coven about their shared past, about Shain? Shit, he sure hoped not. She says the wrong words to the wrong shifters and this cat’s not just outta the bag, he’s outta lives.
But before Riot could calculate the ass-in-crack potential in his mind, the woman herself appeared. With her curly black hair and small frame surrounded by intensely bright lime green light, she gave Riot the impression of a spring, coiled and ready to bounce her way through life.
But does she know? Riot examined Gemma, catching her eye and searching for evidence that she knew the truth. But it was just that same innocence looking back at him. Tempting him, pulling at his protective urges.
Riot forgot all about the trouble she could cause him and strolled closer to Gemma, sucking in her bright, fruity scent, watching the smile on her face grow with every step. “You found your room okay?”
She laughed at that, giving him a playful look. “Sure. Magical houses don’t scare me.”
Riot smiled at her. “She bring in your most important stuff? When I found my room, there was a box of stuff in the closet that I hadn’t seen since-.” He stopped talking, abruptly, remembering exactly what was in that pile of things.
He scrambled for another example. “And every time I left clothes on the floor they’d end up in the hamper, even if I locked the door. Pretty freaky shit, but it’s all minor. I think of her like a grandma, but in house form.”
Gemma tilted her head at an angle, smiling bright. “Breath Coven’s personal obaasan. That’s the Japanese word for grandma.” She laughed. “Or I guess since she’s a hacienda, she’d be an abuela.” Riot laughed softly at that. An abuela, exactly. Perfect. But before they could say anything more, Jameson called the meeting to order and everyone in the room made for a seat.
Riot looked around. There was himself, J, and Flint, the shifters bound to Breath Coven; Cora, Goldie, and Gemma, the switches themselves; Darby and Shiloh over by the bar, and Carick leaning against the stairway wall like he was holding it up. Good. Small meeting, less chance someone will spill the beans. Maybe I’ll get another smile? He sure the fuck hoped so.
Jameson stood in the center of the room, introducing Gemma. “I thought, with Gemma completing Breath Coven, we should have a meeting just for Coven business. I invited Darby since she might be a switch as well, and Shiloh since she’s our best guard for Claimed switches.”
Riot’s shoulders stiffened. Did that mean that Gemma, as an unClaimed switch, might be guarded by any coventwined shifter who offered? Like Flint’s brother Bryce? Fuck no. No way am I trusting that cub with Gemma’s safety. Hell, he’d trust Flint over Bryce, at least that grumpy grizzly knew what the fuck was at stake. Bryce was too young and unassuming to even know what kind of tricks to look for; either a vampire or a Prowling switch could take him down.
Riot would trust Ryder for sure. Maybe Dario, since he was a wolf and a cop. Those two had the right animals to run Gemma or the skills to fight her after an Undoing without injuring her. But what if that’s not the option they pick? You know for damn sure Bryce wouldn’t mind being a switch’s next meal. A flash of jealous anger hit Riot, making him curl his lip.
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Carick’s thunderous voice broke in, his intense, almost depthless black eyes taking aim at the switches before him. “Now that you are a trio, you must become a coven. There is a ceremony.” Riot glanced at Gemma and saw her eyes were opened wide in awe as she stared at Carick. Standard reaction.
Then he watched Gemma swallow and her back straighten as she slowly raised her hand. “I thought the house was the coven?”
Riot felt his respect for her double. This had to be one of the most confusing days of her life, but she wasn’t even hiding her ignorance, just educating herself.
The Steward looked at Gemma from across the room, arms crossed, and gave her the bare details. “The covens of switches existed from the beginning, blended together. When the time came that each claimed its own space, their houses shared the title. They continuously wove magic ‘round these sacred places, as well as those they shared with the other covens. The rituals evolved over the years, but they are vital to your power.”
Jameson looked right at Gemma. “Any progress with the Keeper’s Book?”
Gemma only shrugged. Riot couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Jameson went on, glancing at each of the Breath switches and shifters in turn. “We need to go on the offensive as much as we can now, strike while we have an advantage the vampires don’t know about. But we also have to figure out exactly what that advantage is and how best to use it.”
From the bar behind him, Riot heard Darby’s attitude in her voice. “Well, if y’all are done with me, I’ll just go get ready for my boring old human job of feeding people instead of killing them.”
Riot twisted his body to look, trying to catch Darby’s ice-blue eyes. The other thing he’d gotten to know about her was that she was fully-weaponized, ready to strike at any moment. It didn’t bother Riot because he wasn’t interested in Darby and, well, it took one to know one. But it sure made her life a drama farm.
