by Shona Husk
“This is like skipping straight to dessert.”
“It is a bit, isn’t it.” He slid his wallet into his coat pocket, then leaned back and ruffled his fingers through his hair. It needed cut. Usually he was so neat and tidy. Tonight he looked a little wilder, his eyes darker, and the stubble along his jaw gave him an edge he didn’t reveal in the office. Maybe he was right and they did need to get to know each other better.
“So what did you want to talk about?” He should go first since he wanted this pre-date.
“Everything. I know you like cats and that red hair really suits you. Not that brown didn’t look good, but your eyes look greener now. I’d never noticed before.”
“Thank you.” She grinned. Her eyes had always appeared to be a rather boring shade of blue. Red hair made all the difference. “There’s not much to tell. I go to the gym, see my friends and come to work.”
That wasn’t the answer he wanted. His gaze was firmly on her as though he could stare into her and discover what he needed to know. She held his gaze. “What about you?”
“Much the same.”
“How was training last night?”
“Fine. I didn’t get beaten up.” The corner of his lips turned up.
The waitress put their coffees and desserts on the table and Peyton murmured a thank you before she slipped away.
“I never took you for the kind of guy who fought for fun.” What other secrets did he keep hidden?
“Is that a deal breaker?”
“No. Just interesting.” She sipped her coffee.
“What’s something interesting about you?”
She wasn’t interesting at all. Her life was one long stretch of beige. Her parents were beige, and their lives were beige. Going to Bethany’s coven was the only brightness in her life. She’d never realized how dull she’d been. “Would you have ever made a move?”
“Only if you weren’t working for me.”
“I wasn’t going to apply for the PA job.”
“I know. It’s like you came to work after the weekend more vibrant and self-assured.”
She smiled and ate a piece of her pie. The chocolate was dark and sweet on her tongue and the pie crust was perfectly crumbly. She was awake now, not merely existing but living. It felt like she’d been sleeping for centuries. “Well, maybe I did do something on Valentine’s Day, but you’ll think it’s silly.”
“You’re talking to a guy who fights his friends with sticks and reads medieval contracts for fun.”
“Really? How are contracts fun?”
“They made contracts for all kinds of things back then. History is interesting. Like I said, I doubt your weekend could’ve been sillier than mine.”
The fighting and the reading of old contracts didn’t fit with what she knew about him at all. The two hobbies were completely different. They could belong to two different men. “Okay. I have a friend, and she’s always coming up with new ways to change her life. One year it was all about thinking positive. The next a book club. Last year she decided that we should form a coven.”
Peyton’s eyebrows rose and he put his coffee down. “A coven, like witches? For casting spells?”
Alexis nodded. “Exactly. We all go along with her because it’s an excuse to have some wine and a laugh and then compare notes next month. I guess it’s our version of a book club, but we skip the books.”
“What kind of spells do you cast? Do you hex your enemies?”
Alexis laughed. “Oh no…doesn’t that come back threefold? Besides, I don’t think any of the spells we’ve done has ever worked. None of us are richer.” She tilted her head and considered him for a moment. “Well, maybe one is working.”
“What do you mean?” He’d lost all interest in his coffee and cake and was intent on her. Her blood warmed under his gaze.
“You can’t guess?”
His eyebrows lowered for a second. “Did you put a spell on me?”
“No…not exactly. It was just a general love spell. To bring love into our lives. I didn’t pay that much attention.” And then she’d fainted, so she didn’t even know if the spell had been completed. But it must have been because he was here with her.
“Magic can be a dangerous thing.”
“It’s just Bethany’s latest fad. She bought a few books and decided it was something we should try.”
“Do you think magic is real?”
She would’ve said no last week. Now she wasn’t so sure. She had felt different since Saturday. Stranger, more powerful and more determined to get what she wanted. She hooked her toes around his calf and smiled at him. She didn’t want to keep talking magic with him. He’d think she was ditzy or silly. “Maybe. Or maybe I decided to stop waiting for life to happen.”
“Maybe.” But he didn’t sound convinced. “Tell me more about your coven.”
Alexis stabbed her pie. This isn’t what they should be talking about. “I thought you wanted to get to know me.”
“I do, and this is a part of your life, and I’m interested.”
She lifted her gaze, but he wasn’t mocking her. “Do you believe in that stuff? In magic and goddesses?”
He went very still. “Yes… Which goddess does your friend prefer?”
“It depends on the spell.”
Peyton made a sound that she was sure was a groan, which he quickly hid in a sip of his coffee. Did he really believe in this stuff? “What god or goddess do you prefer?”
He was silent for a moment, staring at his coffee as if it held the answers. He sighed and finally spoke. “I was raised to believe in the Morrigu, but I don’t know anymore.”
The windows of the café rattled in a sudden gust of wind. A woman entered, holding her coat and skirt down with one hand and her hat on with another.
“I’ve never heard of her. Does that mean you are a witch, or should it be warlock?”
Peyton shook his head. “Witch is correct. I was.”
Alexis’ eyes widened. “You did spells and stuff? Did any of them work?” She leaned forward, unable to stop herself. He didn’t think she was silly fluff for believing in magic. No wonder he’d been so interested.
“It’s not something I usually talk about, for obvious reasons. But yes, the spells worked.” He stabbed his carrot cake but didn’t eat it.
“Then how come you still have a job and aren’t rich? And you aren’t married and doing whatever you want?” If he could do spells why was his life so ordinary?
“Because magic never works that way. For an entity to be involved there has to be a trade. Most people don’t want to make the trade because the cost is too high.” There was a resonance in his words that made her sit up a little straighter.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. Nothing comes for free.”
“I learned that lesson young.” It was why her parents didn’t like to make changes. They knew there was a cost. Her grandmother had never worried about things like that and she’d spent every dime, to the annoyance of her father. Unlike her parents, Alexis was willing to take a chance and pay the price. She refused to be stagnant and be the same for the rest of her life just in case something bad happened. “Do you think I’m here because of some spell?”
“Are you?”
She wanted to say no, to deny it, but couldn’t. Peyton dabbed his finger on a napkin. He folded it over, but she saw the spot of red. Still the simple word wouldn’t form on her tongue. Was she here because of magic? “Maybe the spell made me braver.”
“Maybe.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
“We should talk about our date—you still want to go?”
He nodded. “I do. I’ve booked a nice little restaurant near my place.”
“I thought we were going to mine?” Though his was probably ten times nicer than hers. She finished her pie, but the chocolate had lost its sweetness. Somehow he’d made her question all of the changes that she’d made. This was her, wasn’t it? The her she’d been hiding for so long
under the umbrella of what was safe and sensible? She didn’t want to be that person anymore. “Actually, your place sounds like a much better idea.”
Chapter 7
Peyton sat on the floor of his living room on the round mat that most people thought was just there for a splash of color in his otherwise neutral place. He liked it for the orange, but he also liked the way he could shift the coffee table to the side and sit on the mat to do workings or meditate.
His coffee with Alexis had left him even more unsettled.
While he didn’t need the circle to reach the Morrigu—he could hold one in his mind—he’d always felt safer in one. Once he wouldn’t have hesitated to reach for Her and ask for Her guidance, now he hesitated. He wanted to be free, so he couldn’t lean on Her. Her help came with a cost and he hadn’t been paying for years. The money he gave the coven didn’t make up for the lack of actual magic he did. They all knew that. Every time he bowed out of something, he saw the pity in their eyes.
It was no wonder She wanted him gone from Her service; he was performing poorly.
He was, in effect, getting the sack.
Which kind of stung, even though it was mutual. The pile of the rug tickled his bare skin. He’d stayed at the coven last night to prove he didn’t accidentally shift and kill a man—of course he hadn’t shifted. He had the beast under control. While Campbell’s death hung heavy in his chest, he couldn’t openly grieve because no one else knew Campbell was dead yet. He was officially missing until the police confirmed the identity of the body.
He exhaled and closed his eyes. The circle of the mat became real in his mind and for a while he just sat there, sinking deeper. The black feathers of the Morrigu brushed cool across his mind, but he didn’t want to reach for Her well of knowledge, not yet anyway. And he needed more than Alexis’ admission to dabbling in spells before reporting her to the coven.
Noah would report the strange aura and they were monitoring the cats. He should tell Mason about Alexis and her friend’s coven. If they had stumbled onto something they could be in danger, or Mason could crack down hard. People who were using dangerous magic had to be shut down. He had to protect Alexis. But in doing that, he was putting himself between her and his coven. They wouldn’t be his coven if he were no longer a witch. Without magic, he wouldn’t be able to help her. All he had left were a few simple spells and the residue of his connection to the Morrigu. Plenty of people dabbled in magic; few achieved more than wasting their money on paraphernalia because they lacked the connection to a deity.
Mason had always drilled into them that a witch should have a handful of spells that didn’t need instruments. Peyton had a few binding charms that appeared as chains of various weights. He also had a fetch, something he could send to watch someone and report back. He’d used it on a job for the coven before the bite and had kept it in case it would be useful. He also had the blood truth spell that he used more frequently than he probably should, but it was nice to know when people were telling him lies.
Alexis hadn’t been able to answer him. The words had stuck in her throat and he’d seen it in her face—but she hadn’t known why. A witch would’ve known. The nick on his finger tingled at the memory.
What he needed to know was which entity was involved and what kind of contract had been enacted. For that he’d need to know the words of the spell. He paused. He shouldn’t be doing any of this if he was walking away from magic. He should be leaving it to the capable hands of the coven.
Maybe Mason was right, and he couldn’t part with magic. It was as essential as breathing, and ever since the bite he’d been suffocating.
If he turned his back on Alexis, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. Whatever he found out he’d report to Mason and then step back. He was so tired of stepping back from jobs and spells…but more afraid of what stepping forward would mean. The beast prowled at the edges as if it were also tired of the current arrangement.
One thing at a time.
First he woke up the fetch, a small ball of light much like a will-o-the-wisp. The fetch flared bright and then settled into a pale blue glow. It was in essence a part of him and would always return to him. He thought of Alexis and then sent the fetch to her so he could watch over her and make sure she wasn’t in trouble. The more he learned, the less he liked what was going on.
That the cats had followed and waited for them outside the café was disturbing, that a small pack had followed him home only confirmed his suspicion that someone or something was watching. If Alexis was doing it, she wasn’t aware. But the entity she’d made a deal with was. If he was being watched, he would return the favor.
Again, he felt the cold feathers sweep against his mind. He shivered even though it was warm in his apartment but didn’t turn toward his goddess. She shunned him and told him he was on his own, so She had no right to invade and demand his attention.
Instead he turned his focus to Alexis and the spell that somehow had enveloped her and was reaching for him. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. It vibrated with a power that he usually associated with the Morrigu, only this felt different, warm yet sharp, where the Morrigu’s was silken cold.
The fetch slammed into him.
Peyton’s back hit the carpet. He rolled over his shoulder but didn’t come into a fighting crouch as planned. Two black paws the size of dinner plates dropped to the mat and a growl reverberated in his chest. His claws dug into the mat as he tried to re-orientate himself on the physical plane and to his sudden change in form. He’d shifted in barely a heartbeat. It was never usually that quick.
The impact of the fetch hitting him radiated through his chest like he was having a goddamn heart attack. His breathing settled as he realized there was no one in his apartment. And he’d been forced into a shift. He hadn’t shifted in several years.
He’d been attacked with his own fetch.
What the fuck?
He tilted his head trying to loosen tight, unused muscles. He sniffed and listened, but there was nothing he could sense that was unusual except for him. He sat in his hellhound form even though he should change back. The track pants he’d been wearing hung off his legs, ripped in too many places to bother saving, so he used his claws to scratch them off, then he scratched behind his ear because it felt good. He leaned forward and had a stretch that went to the tip of his tail. Then he remembered he shouldn’t enjoy being a hellhound.
Someone had lobbed his fetch back at him and triggered this. That was some powerful magic. Had Alexis been telling half truths about her coven?
He got up and paced his apartment, black claws clacking on the wood flooring. He wanted out, to run and be free. No. He needed to shift back to human and call Mason.
Peyton tensed, bracing for the pain of the shift, but it didn’t come. He was out of practice, but it usually just happened. He sat in the middle of the mat and brought up the circle. Instead of the hound pacing within him, his human body paced, chained the way the hound usually was. He tried putting his consciousness into his human body and failed.
He tried setting his human body free from the chains that usually held the hound, but they were locked tight, and he hadn’t made the locks.
That wasn’t good. It should’ve been impossible. There was no brush of feathers and no sign of the Morrigu now that he actually needed Her.
He was well and truly on his own because he couldn’t even make a phone call like this. A snarl of frustration slipped free.
He had to work this out. He’d sent the fetch to watch Alexis and it had been sent back and done this to him. He had two choices, but if he went to the coven they would go after Alexis with magic blazing.
He had to go to Alexis.
He glanced at the front door. He wouldn’t be able to get that open without opposable thumbs. A growl lodged in his throat. He hated being the hellhound, yet at the same time his body had never felt more alive. Strength flowed through him and a different kind of magic rippled over his skin. He didn’t kno
w how to use it, but it was there. If he knew what it was, he might have been able to shift.
Unable to get out through the door, that left the window. He put his paws on the table and then jumped up. It wobbled under his weight but held, then he flicked the latch on the window with a claw, letting the cold night air stream in.
Five floors up. As a human that would kill him. Like this? He felt immortal. Hellhounds were notoriously hard to kill.
His haunches tightened, ready to make the leap. A raven landed on the windowsill next to him, cawing a warning. He snapped his jaws. He needed to find out what was going on and She wasn’t being much use. She’d cut him off. Worse, She’d left him with this gift, and now that he was using it, She wanted to stop him. He snarled at the raven flapping in his face. He was stuck as a hellhound and wanted a solution. He was getting out and he didn’t care if the Morrigu disagreed.
Since getting bitten, he’d read a lot about hellhounds. And while he was worried about being seen, he could drag shadows with him. He could be a witch or a hellhound, but not both. Tonight he was hound and bathed in the magic of the last night of the full moon. He was going hunting. It felt right.
Nothing had been right in his life for a long time.
He ignored the bird and its frantic fluttering and jumped.
His feet hit the asphalt and the road rippled beneath the impact. He landed in a crouch. Shadows flowed to surround him and cloak him in darkness. The raven followed but could do little to stop him. All it could do was watch and be the Morrigu’s eyes. Let Her watch. She’d made him this, even if She hadn’t been the one to bite him. She should be happy he was using it. He should eat the raven and see what She made of that.
The raven drew away as if it understood his thoughts perfectly.
Good.
Silently, he moved through the city, knowing where the fetch had been because it was a part of him. He moved fast, faster than a dog or a human. He could keep pace with cars, but he didn’t. He stayed in the alleys and side roads where the darkness was his friend. No one wanted to come face to face with a large dog straight out of nightmares.
