by Layla Nash
Mercy nodded but stayed in the kitchen. “Sure. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
I paused in the doorway and glanced back at her, my heart aching at the possible loss of whatever kind of friendship we’d shared, and stuffed down the grief so I could put on a different kind of mask. No longer the ice queen, but the “everything is normal” witch. Pretending to be fine to go along, like I’d done for so long after Mom died and I had to drag myself to work every day. It felt just as fake, just as hollow, but even worse because I knew what I lost by pretending. Mercy was the first person I thought I could really be myself around in a long, long time, and she clawed the door open so there was room for Henry and Miles and possibility. A future. Affection.
Her head tilted as she watched me, waiting for me to say something, and I cleared my throat. No need to mourn just yet. I hadn’t lost anything yet. It was just a bump in the road. Just a misunderstanding and something that could be resolved with an adult conversation. “If it’s possible, I’d like to go back to my house this afternoon and check on the greenhouse. I might be able to find something in my books to help, and I’ll need to refill my supply of herbs in case something else goes wrong.”
Mercy smiled brightly, even if it didn’t reach her eyes, and nodded. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be possible? We’ll go and pick some flowers and get everything set so you can stay here long-term.”
“Not that long-term,” I said. I forced my legs to carry me into the guest room and over to the big comfy chair near the windows. “Just until he’s better.”
“Sure,” she said, so quiet I almost missed it.
I didn’t bother to close the door behind me and just sank into the chair, draping my legs across one of the arms and leaning back to rest my head against the other. It wasn’t more than a blink before Cricket moseyed over and hauled himself onto my lap. I closed my eyes against the sunlight and the moving shadows across the ceiling that hinted at Mercy’s movement through the living room.
Clearly Miles or Todd or Smith thought I had something to do with the magical spell that affected Miles. Maybe they thought I was actually the target and Miles was just collateral damage. Or that I’d cast the thing myself. I clenched my jaw; there wasn’t any use speculating about what someone else might think I’d done, especially when I knew what I didn’t do. All I could do was try to figure out who the hell was responsible for making him sick.
If it were magic, it had to be Smith or someone in the coven. After what Smith did the night before though, I was reasonably sure I would recognize his power just based on the icky signature. None of that had been present in Miles when I healed him from whatever caused the attack. I hadn’t felt anything magical at all on him or in him, which just made it stranger and stranger. Generally magic had to adhere to something in order to hex or curse or charm, so there wasn’t much use in trying to hex someone if you couldn’t make it stick.
Which meant it had to be the coven. My money was on Estelle or Palmer, though mostly it was on Estelle. With everything she’d said at the florist’s and everything she did in the coven meetings... I squeezed my eyes shut. She hadn’t known anything about Miles until the florist. Unless she followed me and knew exactly where I was after I disappeared. Maybe she’d scried for me.
But why take it out on Miles? Why hex him? Surely she knew how strong he was and how his pack would respond in order to save him. And she knew that the ErlKing owed the animals favors after freeing him from the Betwixt, and she knew he owed me a favor as well. Maybe Estelle tracked Smith and wanted to hurt the ErlKing by hurting one of his allies.
Or it could have been Palmer. His magic wasn’t nearly as strong as Estelle’s or mine, but with enough time and preparation he might have been able to work up a hex strong enough to cause Miles’s attack. He didn’t strike me as the jealous type or the kind of guy who’d want to compete over a girl with someone like Miles. Palmer’s testosterone count wasn’t high enough for him to be on the same planet as Miles. Maybe Palmer wanted to even the playing field by taking Miles down a peg or two.
But that meant that Palmer would have had to have been ready before he got to the florist.
I covered my face and swallowed a groan, ignoring Cricket’s annoyed chirps. I wished I had more talent with Sight, so I could just See what the future held. Flashing forward to when it all resolved itself—or didn’t—and figuring out my own happily-ever-after would have made all the intervening years a hell of a lot easier to wade through. Of course, it would have been a kick in the nuts to learn I didn’t get a happily-ever-after, or it all ended too soon.
My throat burned and I turned my face into the cushion so it would absorb any tears that escaped my lashes. For a brief moment, I’d almost thought I could find a family with the pack. With Miles.
Typical. A bright flash of hope and possibility, only to be snatched away after I knew what I’d lose. If we couldn’t figure it out and deal with whoever cursed Miles, then the only thing I could really do was stay away from him. If Estelle and Palmer thought I was done with him, that I didn’t have any interest in the shifters, then they wouldn’t hurt him anymore.
Maybe it wouldn’t come to that. I tucked it away in the back of my head though, in case the rest of our options didn’t pan out. There had to be a way to get the truth out of Estelle or at least Palmer. Maybe the rest of the coven.
I exhaled and reached for my mantra, running through it over and over. I am Maureen’s daughter. I am Deirdre, named for my grandmother, descended from witches. I have the Sight, to see through deception. I have the love and guidance of my mother and her mother and all their mothers before us. I am the heart of magic. I am Deirdre, Maureen’s daughter.
I would survive this.
Chapter 47
Miles
Evershaw didn’t look at Todd as he paced in his office, Smith sitting in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. “Tell me again. What caused this?”
“A hex,” the old man said. “Someone in proximity to you was able to place a hex on you, some time between when you killed the original poisoner and when you had the fit last night.”
“What would it look like?” Evershaw kept moving, tension running through him at the implication that Deirdre had betrayed him, and pushed away the wolf’s urge to run back to her to make sure she was okay. The wolf knew she wasn’t the one who wanted to kill him. “How would I know who did it?”
“It could be anything.” Smith sighed and rubbed his temples, then nodded his thanks after Todd offered a glass of bourbon. They’d run through the good whiskey the day before. The ErlKing sipped before going on. “Some small object dropped in your pocket or stuck to your shoe or left in your car. Based on when the fit struck you, I would assume it was on you for at least part of the day but you didn’t feel the effects until they accumulated.”
“One of the witches at the florist’s could have done it when I went to help Deirdre.” Evershaw ground his teeth and wished he had a punching bag in his office so he could burn off some of the rage before he ended up throwing Todd across the room. “It had to be one of them. They’re the only ones with magic who would have done it.”
Todd cleared his throat. “Not the only ones, Evershaw.”
Smith glanced at him but held up his hand to cut Evershaw off before he went on yet another tirade about the witch’s innocence. “One only needs magic to make the hex, not to place it. It’s possible that a mundane placed the hex on you regardless of who made it.”
“Well, that narrows it down.” Evershaw kept pacing, irritation boiling with each stride. He wondered what Deirdre was doing, whether she’d woken up and wondered where he was, whether she suspected something was different because he wasn’t there. He’d warned Mercy not to say anything to Deirdre or change how she acted, but there was no telling whether Mercy would be able to comply.
“Who did you run into yesterday?” Smith stretched his legs out in front of him, almost braced against the desk, and savored the
bourbon. “Did anything unusual occur?”
Evershaw ran through the day, listing out the various pack members and passersby he’d run into, then got to the Chase building and the initial confrontation with Palmer. Evershaw slowed, examining each person who’d gotten within arm’s reach of him, and tried to figure out when the hell someone might have cursed him. Or hexed him. Not that he gave a shit what the difference was.
When he paused, Todd leaned against the back of the couch in the office, his attention on Smith. “Could it have been our little witch?”
“No,” Evershaw snapped. The next person to blame Deirdre would get their ass kicked.
Smith frowned as he looked at the ceiling, swirling the bourbon until it sloshed quietly against the glass. “It’s possible but unlikely.”
“What does that mean?” Evershaw said. He clenched his fists and tried to think of something in the office he could destroy that would alleviate some of the tension.
“She’s strong enough to make the hex, certainly. And smart enough to know that she couldn’t adhere it to you herself, so she could have given it to someone else to do so.” Smith scratched his jaw and Evershaw saw a hint of the antlers and moss. The ErlKing peered into the bourbon. “That way the geas would not restrain her from harming you, although she would still suffer some of the consequences. If she was angry enough, then perhaps it did not matter.”
“She didn’t do it.” Evershaw started moving again. “I know she didn’t.”
“Just because you don’t want it to be her doesn’t mean it isn’t,” Todd said.
Evershaw scowled at his cousin. “That’s an interesting change of opinion, since last night you were all about me bringing the girl into the pack. Now you’re convinced she’s a traitor?”
“She was the only one there with you when this episode happened,” Todd shot back. “And she somehow got you to feel when she was allegedly in pain that first night. There’s something else going on and there’s no telling what it actually is. Just keep your mind and your eyes open, man.”
Smith took a deep breath. “Of course, there’s only one way to find out.”
Evershaw and his cousin both looked at the old man. The alpha spoke first. “And that is?”
“Wait until it happens again,” Smith said. He shrugged, holding out his glass so Todd could refill it. “Or identify what carries the hex. Either way, we’ll know.”
“So we’re just supposed to wait around—again—for someone to try and kill Evershaw?” Todd folded his arms over his chest after replacing the bottle in the liquor cabinet next to the desk. “How is there no better plan than that?”
Smith finished the drink and pushed to his feet, stretching his arms out and twisting until vertebrae cracked. “When you don’t know the perpetrator or the motive or much about the weapon of choice, it can be difficult to posit a theory. But please go ahead, young man, if you have a better idea.”
Todd pressed his lips together and fumed, refusing to respond, and Evershaw shook his head. Completely unhelpful.
Smith only inclined his head to acknowledge the point, then limped to the door. “I’m still waiting to hear from Iskander, the djinn, on whether there are other forces at work. It’s entirely possible it isn’t witch magic that wants to kill you, although I would expect to recognize it if it were. Only witch magic is so beyond my... awareness.”
Evershaw grunted and kept pacing. “Let us know, Smith.”
The old man waved at him over his shoulder and disappeared out of view, leaving Evershaw to glare at his cousin. “Any bright ideas, Todd?”
Todd scowled right back. “Just be careful. Think with your brain for once instead of your dick, okay? She’s a witch. She’s powerful enough that she makes the fucking ErlKing hesitate. Be careful.”
“Update me if the trackers find anything useful about the other two witches.” Evershaw’s thoughts were already on Deirdre, back in his suite, and his feet took him in that direction without another word to Todd. His cousin stayed in the office, complaining more loudly the farther away Evershaw got, but he ignored it and kept going. The only way to figure out whether Deirdre was trying to kill him was to ask her.
Chapter 48
Deirdre
I didn’t know how much time passed before Miles returned. He had been speaking quietly to Mercy and someone else in the living room, and eventually wandered into the doorway behind me. Cricket lifted his head to glare at the intruder, then went back to kneading his paws against my throat and drooling all over my shoulder. I tried not to react as Miles sat on the foot of the bed and studied me, his head tilted and a faint smile on his face. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Most of me didn’t feel like joking around, and the rest of me sheltered behind some kind of witchy disguise. “Wondering why you weren’t there when I woke up.”
I wanted him to take the opportunity to explain, to admit that he thought, or at least Todd thought, that I was behind the curse. The door was open for him to walk through; he just had to choose whether to admit it to me or not. I didn’t like the idea that I had to test him, or that I was apparently the kind of girl who would test him instead of just asking... I shook myself; I wasn’t that girl.
Before he could answer, I met his gaze evenly and added, “And why you think I’m the one who hexed you.”
He blinked. “I don’t think you hexed me.”
“Bullshit.”
Miles folded his arms over his chest and sat back, his expression growing reserved. “Todd might think you hexed me, and Smith thinks it’s possible but unlikely. I never had any doubt.”
“None?” I picked Cricket up and put him on the floor so I could sit up and face Miles directly. “Not any single tiny little speck of doubt?”
And I held my breath.
His dark eyebrow arched. “Slightly more than a speck, but not enough to tip the scales.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. If you said you didn’t have any doubt at all, I’d never believe you again. Of course you should have doubts.” I ran my hands through my hair and tried to twist it up in a bun or something so it was out of my face. “I’m a witch. If Smith thinks it was a witch hex that hurt you, then obviously I could have done it.”
“Did you?”
He asked it so calmly that I almost missed it. Instead of reacting, I waved my hand in dismissal. “Of course not.”
“That’s what I thought.” Evershaw still watched me, though his shoulders relaxed. “Now what?”
“What what?” I wiggled my foot as Cricket searched for something to pounce on, and watched the cat stalk the toes of my sock.
“What do you want to do now?”
“I thought I was under house arrest, so I made no plans.” I smiled as fakely as I could.
Miles snorted. “You weren’t under house arrest. If you were, I would have tied you up somewhere. I know better than to trust a witch.”
I smiled and tapped my nails against my teeth, like I had to ponder. “I wonder where you might have learned that.”
“I’ll tell you the story sometime.” He leaned forward and caught my foot, dragging my leg up so he could press his thumbs into the ball of my foot, and began another bone-melting massage. “I know what I’d like to do this afternoon, but I figured I ought to ask you for all your terrible ideas first.”
“I need to go back to my house,” I said. I sank lower in the chair and almost slipped to the floor as I bit back a groan. He had the most amazingly strong hands. Concentrating on anything at all, much less a complex thought and multi-syllable words, grew impossible. “Get some herbs. Water the plants.”
“I’ll send someone to do it for you,” he murmured. “We can watch movies. So many movies.”
Cricket meowed and jumped back up in my lap, balancing on my legs as he glared at Miles, then hissed and swatted in his direction. I laughed as Miles dropped my foot and leaned back, his lip curling, and I held Cricket close as I tried to get to my feet. “
He knows what that means, so watch yourself. I can go by myself; I’ll be back in an hour. You don’t have to bestir yourself.”
“I’ll stir myself whenever I want,” he muttered. He gave Cricket a wide berth on his way to the living room. “Henry, get a team together. The witch needs to go back to her house.”
Henry and Mercy both stood in the kitchen, and Mercy’s face lit up. “Yeah?”
I wandered after him into the living room, still cradling Cricket, and yawned as I eyed the sandwiches Mercy set out. “I need to water the plants and figure out how to keep other witches from hexing this clown.” And I tilted my head in Miles’s direction.
He pretended not to notice as he stalked into his room, and Mercy beamed at me and bounced on her toes. “Can I go? Are you going to do more magic?”
“Not there,” I said. “But I don’t mind if you come along. You can help me in the greenhouse.”
Henry grumbled under his breath, even with a twinkle in his eyes a little bit like relief, and disappeared into the hall to start talking into a radio and ordering people to move around just to take a fifteen-minute drive to my house.
I had to hand it to Miles: he had the pack so tightly wound that when he said something needed to happen, it happened. I blinked and then I was somehow wrapped up in a coat and herded into one of those dark SUVs with the blacked-out windows, and I couldn’t have said how it all unfolded for all the money in the world.
I looked around and then had to slide out of the way as Miles climbed in next to me. “What the hell, man? There’s a door on the other side.”
“Yeah, but you’re on this side, witch.”
Mercy, in the front passenger seat, giggled. Todd just shook his head and muttered as he started the car and pulled out, and three other SUVs rolled out—one ahead of us, and two behind.
