“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, leaning down to pick her up. She rubs her head against his jaw and purrs so loudly it sounds like she’s growling.
I lean back against the sink and watch him cuddle my cat. The tension is bleeding out of his shoulders as he whispers sweet nothings to her and scratches behind her ears.
“So did you run away or Javier let you out of solitary confinement?” I ask as I grab an old bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet. I shouldn’t drink right now, but I need something to relax. It’s been one thing after another.
I look back when he doesn’t answer. He has his face buried in Muffin’s fur and his shoulders are tight once again. He turns away and walks into the living room, plopping down on the couch.
I sigh and pour too much whiskey into my glass. He can make this as difficult as he wants, but I’m getting answers.
He doesn’t scoot away when I sit down shoulder to shoulder with him on the couch.
“Seriously, Patrick? You don’t have to explain everything, but I need to know if Javier is going to come bust down my door looking for you,” I say, nudging his shoulder and reaching over to smooth my fingers through Muffin’s fur.
“He won’t be looking for me. I’ve left the clan,” Patrick says quietly, his voice monotone.
My hand stills and I look at him with wide eyes. Leaving a clan isn’t something you do lightly, it’s like disowning your family.
“What—Why?” I stutter over my words.
“Javier is a selfish, idiotic asshole,” Patrick says, eyes flashing. “I will not serve someone that doesn’t care about their clan members. It’s his fault Emily is dead.”
I take a deep breath, then drain my glass. This is a mess, and whatever he and Javier are fighting about seems like it might have been coming for a while. I’ve never seen Patrick this angry.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
“Not really,” he says, staring blankly at his knees.
“Do you have people you can feed on? I can round up some girls if I need to, they know me.”
“I’ll be fine. I have some neckers that like me, I fed before I came here.” His eyes stray to my bandaged arm again.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I wish that made me feel better.”
My heart sinks into my stomach, heavy as a stone. I knew it would be like this, and I hate that I can’t fix it.
“They were beating me, and she provoked them. She got under Martinez’s skin to distract him and he took a baseball bat to her head. It just split open and...” He stops talking, his voice catching. “She did it to save me. It’s my fault she died. I was weak and I was begging for them to stop and to let me feed and she couldn’t stand to watch it anymore.”
I pull him into a hug and he buries his face in my neck as sobs wrack his body. I can’t stop the tears that slip out of my eyes.
There’s a bright light shining in my eyes. I blink and roll over, my stomach jerks as I fall. I flail against the blanket I’m tangled in and my shin hits something hard.
“Ow, fuck,” I look around groggily and realize I’m now on the living room floor. I was on the couch before I rolled off it like an idiot.
Patrick. I jerk upright and look around. He’s not in the living room, but I don’t remember him leaving either.
I disentangle myself and stumble toward my bedroom. The blinds are tightly drawn and the closet door is shut. I breath a sigh of relief.
I tiptoe over, even though I know I couldn’t wake him now if I tried, and crack open the door. Patrick is curled up in the back corner of the closet with his head on one of my pillows and my fluffy blanket pulled up to his chin. Mr. Muffins is curled up by his head, also fast asleep.
I must have fallen asleep last night after he started watching that show he loves so much. It’s a stupid kid’s show, but he loves it. He hadn’t even cracked a smile last night, but he had stopped sobbing, so I was calling it a win.
He looks peaceful now. I lean down and tuck the blanket a little closer around him. My phone vibrates. I pull it out and see an email notification for a delivered shipment. I frown, what did I order?
“The warehouse?” I mumble as I read the address.
Oh, of course. It seems like I placed the order with Gerard months ago, but it’s been less than a week. I shove my phone back in my pocket and slip out of the closet, closing the door carefully behind me. I wanted to talk to Maybelle, so this is just another reason to head into town. It’s also almost four pm. I’ve been on the vampire sleeping schedule since before the attack.
I take a quick shower and braid my wet hair to keep it out of my face. I grab jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt out of the closet, just because it’s starting to feel like fall. Mr. Muffins meows at me for disturbing her.
I grab my jacket and make sure I have the right potions in the pockets. Novak’s magic is still settling into place inside of me, but I don’t feel like I can rely on it yet. The brews make me feel safer. The gun is still sitting on the table, and I almost leave it, but I grab it, just in case. I’ll have to leave it in the glovebox since I can’t get any kind of carry permit with my record.
Stepping outside doesn’t disappoint. It’s not cool enough to see my breath, but I do get a chill when the breeze picks up. The paint on the rear of my car is peeling badly now. I really should get it fixed. Maybe I’ll be able to afford it once I start selling the medicinal brews.
I climb inside, tuck the gun in the glovebox, and head toward town with the windows down and the radio turned up loud. Leaving Patrick alone makes me nervous, but he’s as safe there as he is anywhere else. If the NWR wanted to attack, they’re more likely to hit the clanhouse directly anyhow. I shift in my seat and try to push the what if’s out of my mind.
I don’t have to drive past Rudie’s to get to the cafe, but I do anyhow. The whole thing is starting to feel like a bad dream, and I need to see that it’s real. I park along the street and climb out of my car. Police tape lines the entire area, flickering in the breeze.
The parking lot is empty. Most of the windows have been busted out. It looks like something out of a ghost town or a dystopian novel. The sign isn’t lit up, and the faint smell smoke drifts across the parking lot.
No one had any way of knowing what was underneath it. I didn’t know when I was eating my burger and thinking the worst part of my week was going to be seeing Tyler with another girl.
Martinez had seemed so normal. Chevy had too. I don’t understand what makes a person build a dungeon under their restaurant and start killing people.
I shake my head and climb back in my car, slamming the door. My tires squeal as I take off, eager to get away from all of this.
I almost pass Maybelle’s but decide I want to talk to her before I pick up my delivery. I haven’t seen her since everything went to shit. She called twice, and I ignored the calls each time because I just couldn’t talk to someone else about what had happened. Hopefully, an in-person explanation will be a good apology.
The lunch rush is in full swing, so I park across the street. A blissful combination of freshly baked bread and cinnamon hits me as I walk through the door. I head upstairs to the cafe and spot Johnny chatting with a couple at one of the tables. He stops mid-sentence when he sees me and hurries over to wrap me in an unexpected hug.
“You had us worried, girlie,” he says as I hug him back, slightly overwhelmed by the odor of cigarettes that always clings to him. He releases me and pats my arm, his eyes looking a little wet.
“Sorry, I would have come by sooner, but...” I shrug. “I hadn’t even made it home before last night. Is Maybelle around?”
“She is, just head on back, she’s in her office.
“Thanks, Johnny.”
The loud chatter of the restaurant is replaced by the even louder clank of plates being washed and the cooks shouting over each other as I pass through the door to the kitchen. I dodge a waitress carrying a full tray of food and weave my way back to the offices.
/>
Maybelle’s door is half closed. I knock once as I push it open. She jumps and shoves something in her drawer.
“Sorry, is this a bad time?” I ask, hesitating in the doorway now.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, coming around her desk with a big smile on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s wearing a bright red dress with a sea blue scarf and glittery black flats, but the dress is wrinkled, and her hair is in a bun instead of its usual curly chaos. She doesn’t have any makeup on either.
She gives me a brief tight hug, then leans back and pats me on the cheek. “There’s been a lot of rumors all over town about what happened in Rudie’s. Everybody thought you were dead for a while. Someone was even saying the NWR had wiped out the entire clan.”
“They definitely killed some of them. Some of the weres too,” I say with a sigh. “We’re lucky there weren’t that many of the terrorists or it would have been a massacre.”
“Here, sit down,” she says, herding me to a folding chair that sits facing her desk. She sits in another one across from me and smooths out her skirt. “Now, I know it’s a bit trivial, but I thought it might cheer you up to hear they’ve already started construction on the apothecary. In a couple of days you can go and see it if you want.”
“Already?” I exclaim, sitting up straighter. “You move fast. I’m glad my ingredients just got delivered. I’ll have to start brewing as soon as I can.”
“Hopefully the brewing can be a good distraction for you. I’m sure the next couple of months won’t be easy,” she says, patting my knee.
“No joke,” I sigh. “A representative from the vampire council is coming to town at some unknown point to see me as well. We have no idea what they want.”
“To see you?” Maybelle asks, her voice going hard.
“That’s what Lydia was told,” I say, confused at her sudden change in demeanor.
“You can’t trust them, no matter what they tell you or offer you. Stay away from them if you can,” Maybelle says through gritted teeth.
“I’ll be careful but aren’t they on our side?” I ask taken aback. I’ve never seen Maybelle angry before, ever.
“No, they’re on their own side. They’ll do anything they can to gain power. Promise me, Olivia, promise me that you won’t trust whoever they send. You have to keep your guard up,” she says leaning forward and reaching out to grip my knee tightly.
“Okay, I promise,” I say patting her hand awkwardly.
She raises a brow like she doesn't believe me.
"I really will," I insist.
“Alright," she says, shaking her head. "And I don’t mean to rush you out, but I have some things I need to finish up on a deadline. Will I see you later this week?” She asks as she stands.
I stand as well, confused. “Um, sure.”
“Stay safe, sweetie,” she says, pulling me into a brief hug before shooing me out of her office and shutting the door.
I stand in the hallway, dazed by the whole interaction. She’s never run me off like that. Why does the vampire council representative have her so flustered?
The expression on Maybelle’s face bothers me all the way to the warehouse. I park across the street from Gerard’s warehouse and text Lydia for a quick update. I was already worried, but now I’m extra anxious about the visit.
I walk up to the door and realize I don’t see the packages outside. Surely the delivery driver wouldn’t have left them inside. I grab the handle and find it’s locked.
I frown and step back. I had left it unlocked when I was last here. I tilt my head to the side, I suppose Emilio could have locked it.
I knock loudly three times, wait three seconds, then knock one last time. I hear footsteps inside and the door swings open revealing a bleary-eyed, but slightly cleaner than normal Gerard.
“You’re back,” I say dumbly.
“Obviously,” he says, squinting at me, then opening the door wider. “It’s there.”
He points at a pile of boxes just inside the doorway set on a grungy looking pallet.
“Oh, great, thanks,” I say stepping inside and grabbing the first box. He nods and starts back toward his office.
“You could have told me it was the NWR in town,” I blurt out. It’s been bothering me since I figured out who had taken Patrick.
Gerard stops but doesn’t turn around to answer.
“I didn’t know who it was,” he rasps. “Just had a bad feeling, that was all.”
There’s no way. Absolutely no way Gerard is a Diviner. I can’t think what else he might be implying though.
I carry my boxes out to the car and by the time I’m done I’m starting to regret the flannel. It’s not nearly cool enough outside to be carrying heavy stuff in the afternoon sun without working up a sweat.
I double check I haven’t missed anything inside.
“I’m all done!” I shout across the warehouse. Gerard waves a hand out of his office in acknowledgment.
I climb back into my car and lean my head against the steering wheel. Always more questions than answers. All I want is one calm day. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.
My phone rings. It’s Lydia.
“Hey,” I answer as I start the car and pull out into the street.
“Before Javier wakes up, I just had to ask if Patrick was with you, or if we need to be concerned?” Lydia asks, her voice tired.
“He’s with me, and he’s fine. I wouldn’t rule out being concerned though.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this but—”
“Then don’t say it,” I interrupt.
“Olivia, he’s not safe.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I snap.
Lydia is quiet, and I take a deep breath and change the subject. It’s too early to be fighting. “You hear anything else about when the council rep is supposed to show up?”
Lydia huffs, annoyed. “No, they don’t tend to give much notice, but this is getting ridiculous.”
“Figures. I’ll talk to you later then.”
“Be careful,” Lydia says quietly.
I end the call and rub my fingers across my brow. I really can’t blame Patrick for being angry with Javier. Things got messy and people got hurt and Patrick isn’t thinking straight. Javier is also kind of an ass sometimes. I don’t want to be caught in the middle though.
I stop for groceries on the way home. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a home cooked meal, and a quick soup sounds great. It takes me less than ten minutes to get in and out, my passenger seat now full of bags.
I park my car in the usual spot in my driveway. The sunset almost fifteen minutes ago, so I know Patrick will be up. Part of me wants to just sit in the car and eat some of the ice cream I got before it melts instead of going inside to face Patrick and everything that has happened.
I sigh and open the door. The sound of shouting makes me freeze, one foot on the ground, halfway out of the car. There’s more than one voice. I lean back in the to grab my jacket and yank the glovebox open, grabbing the gun as well.
I run toward the house, trying to stay low and keep quiet. There’s no sign of another car. The front door is still intact, but it isn’t shut all the way. I step onto the porch cautiously, avoiding the creaky parts and peek in the living window. The blinds are down, but I can see two figures through the narrow slits. There’s a man standing over Patrick, whose lip is bleeding.
I stand and kick the door open in one fluid motion, my heart pounding out of my chest. I find the sight on the end of the gun and fire twice, the gunfire cracking loudly inside the house, but all I hit is the wall. The man has disappeared and I never even saw him move.
I blink rapidly. Did I imagine him? I take a step back, scanning to see where he has vanished too. Patrick is yelling something but I can’t hear him over the ringing in my ears.
I back into a hard chest.
3
I freeze, but he doesn’t move. His chest is cool and I don’t feel a heartbeat. As if
I needed any more proof he was a vampire.
“Quite the warm welcome, Ms. Carter. Both your pet and you attacked me without so much as a hello,” he says in a lightly accented voice.
I swallow and step away from him, turning around very slowly with the gun lowered. He’s at least six feet tall with a sharp jawline and slightly hollowed cheeks that are softened by dimples. He’s smiling, his fangs poking out over his full bottom lip. His thick, wavy auburn hair, which is smoothed back, sharply contrasts his crisp black suit. He’s lean, but he’s probably ripped under the suit.
“Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my house?” I say in measured tones. I should have called someone, or at least texted Lydia, before I walked in here.
“Reilly Walsh,” he says, bowing with a flourish. “The representative sent by the esteemed vampire council to investigate the appearance of the NWR in a small, unimportant town in the middle of nowhere.”
I edge toward Patrick, who is still sitting on the floor glaring at Reilly.
Reilly smooths a hand over a wrinkle in his suit jacket and looks between us, raising a brow. “I believe you were told I was coming?”
“Sure, just not your name or when you’d be here or why you were coming,” I say, finally tucking the gun in my waistband. It’s useless against someone like Reilly. “Or that you’d be walking into my house without an invitation and attacking my friend.”
Reilly scoffs. “He attacked me. I was well within my rights to kill him.”
“Are you kidding me?” I exclaim, taking two large steps forward before Patrick pulls me back.
“Not worth it Olivia,” Patrick whispers into my ear. Normally I’m the reasonable one, and he’s the hothead.
My skin is tingling and I have to pull Novak’s magic back sharply. How did he live like this? I seem to be on the verge of accidentally electrocuting someone every time I get mad.
“He has a right to be here, you don’t. Get out. You can talk to me at the clanhouse, but you are not staying here.”
Price of Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Witch's Bite Series Book 2) Page 2
