“Right.” I finish my beer and throw the bottle away. As soon as we get out of here I’m questioning him on what he knows about my mother. I upheld my end of the bargain after all.“Do you need to do some formal goodbye, or can we just leave?”
He chuckles. “We can just leave.”
Emilio is at the door like some kind of clairvoyant butler. He opens the door and bows deeply. Reilly doesn’t acknowledge him as we walk outside.
Some of the tightness leaves my shoulders as we step out into the cool, night air. It’s a relief to know the first visit is over. No one died. No one was horribly insulted.
It’s pitch black outside. There’s hardly even a moon right now, and the light from the town is just enough to make the stars seem dim. We climb in the car and I turn it on, the headlights illuminating the front yard. I text Patrick that we’re headed back, partially to warn him Reilly is still with me, and partially just because I’ve been worried all evening and want to make sure he’s still at my house.
That done, I drop my phone in my lap and pull out of the driveway. The road twists and turns, the trees looming over the road. Reilly is sitting in the passenger seat alternating between staring at me and out the window.
“So, was your, uh, feeding good?” I ask to fill the silence. If he’s going to stare at me, he can at least talk to me.
“It was satisfactory,” he says, running a hand through his hair.
“That sounds like what someone says after they eat at restaurant they’ll never eat at again,” I say raising a brow.
“Sounds about right.” He smirks.
“Do people really taste that different?”
“Yes and no. Blood is blood, but some people taste more robust. I am spoiled in the capitol.”
“I guess it makes sense that you’d get all the best neckers there.”
“Of course,” Reilly says. “It is strange though, the way they beg to be bitten. Most prey run from their predators.”
“Can’t say I really understand it either,” I say, rubbing at my neck. Just the thought of it brings back unwelcome memories and makes me shudder. “I can see being curious, I guess, but the neckers always act like it’s the best thing in the world.”
“We can make it feel good,” Reilly says, leaning toward me. “If you ever find yourself overwhelmed with curiosity, I’d be happy to help.”
“Actually, the only thing I’m curious about is what you know about my mother’s death,” I say, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I went to the coven with you, that was the deal.”
“You waited longer to ask than I expected,” Reilly says with a grin. “I thought you were going to ambush me as soon as we walked out of the coven’s meeting hall.”
“Well I’m asking now.” The whole fiasco at the coven had distracted me, and seeing Zachary again hadn’t helped. Reilly doesn’t need to know all that though.
“The death certificate was created by someone the council knows to be, let’s just say, easily persuaded,” Reilly says. “Two months before he died, Brunson requested an internal investigation. It was quickly determined that quite a few death certificates this person had created were faked. The only thing we don’t know is who requested that he forge it, or why.”
“Can you find out? Can I talk to this guy?”
Reilly doesn’t respond. I glance at him, but he focused on staring out the window again.
“Reilly, I want to talk to him,” I say with a frown. “I have a right to some answers. She could still be alive.”
“You’re being followed,” Reilly says.
“What?” I check the rearview mirror automatically. There is a car behind me, but I have no idea how long it’s been there, and it’s fairly far back.
“Whoever it is followed you to the clanhouse, the car was parked down the street. They picked back up as soon as you left.”
“Is it NWR? Or someone from the coven?” I demand. “Did you see them?”
Reilly rolls his eyes. “Calm down, I don’t think it’s either. We can find out for sure though.”
“How?”
Reilly turns to me with a shit-eating grin.
7
“Are there any roads you can turn down coming up?”
“Um, yeah,” I say, trying to remember what roads connect to this one. I make this drive so often I don’t pay attention to the roads I don’t take. “There are a couple.”
“Turn down the next one, then pull off the road and shut the car off. We’ll need to get into the tree line as quickly as we can.”
The next road is right after a curve in the road. I take the turn sharply, drive over the bridge that runs over a dry creek, and pull off into the grass. There isn’t much space between the road and the tree line, so part of the car is still on the narrow shoulder.
I shut the car off and jump out, following Reilly into the trees. He leads me about ten feet past the tree line, then crouches down behind a tree. I squat beside him and watch, my heart racing from the short run.
I see the headlights first, it seems like he stops once he sees my car sitting there. Finally, the car drives past, definitely driving slower than the speed limit, and stops just before the road curves again. It sits there, and whoever is inside doesn’t make any moves to get out.
“He’s trying to decide if you’re still in the car, or if he can risk approaching,” Reilly whispers, his lips way too close to my ear for comfort.
“I’m going to go see if I can tell who it is,” I whisper back. The trees are thick, and unfortunately so is the underbrush. I pick my way through carefully, stepping over what I can to avoid thorns.
“I can just tell you who it is if you’d like,” Reilly says as he follows me.
“If you already know who it is, why are we even doing this?”
“I wanted to make sure.”
The car is plain, black, and completely average. It’s the kind of car you drive when you’re trying to not attract attention, or you’re just cheap. I pause. It has government plates. So not the NWR. I get a little closer, but still can’t see through the tinted windows. Not that I need to. I know it’s Zachary.
“It’s your biggest fan,” Reilly says.
“Why is he following me?” I ask, my nails biting into my palm.
“Based on what he said earlier, I imagine he’s trying to catch you selling drugs.”
I glare at Reilly. “I’m going to go tell him to fuck off.”
Reilly grabs my arms, stopping me before I even get to take a step. “Not tonight. He’s on the phone with someone, he’s about to leave.”
“If he leaves, I can’t kick his ass.”
Reilly sighs, and I suspect rolls his eyes, but I can’t see clearly enough to tell for sure. “Right now, you have leverage. You know he’s following you, but he doesn’t know you know. Try to be smart for once and use that your advantage.”
“Being straightforward doesn’t mean I’m being stupid,” I say jerking my arm out of his grip. “Sometimes it’s best to just confront people and get it over with.”
“Have you ever tried another way?” Reilly asks, doubtful.
Zachary’s car starts moving again. He turns around and drives back the way we came.
“Guess I have to now.” I stomp back to the car and Reilly follows.
I’m relieved to see Patrick on the couch when we walk in, but I pause in the kitchen. He’s staring at his hands, and they’re shaking.
“How could you go back there?” He asks, so quiet I almost can’t hear him.
“I do the check-ups on the neckers every other week,” I say taking a cautious step forward. Reilly is standing quietly behind me. “It was a good thing I went too. One of them was pretty banged up.”
Patrick’s head snaps up.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he growls. “Is that what Javier said? He’s lying!”
His eyes are bloodshot, and his fangs are extended. Fuck.
“Reilly, can you give us a minute? I want to talk to Patrick alone.�
� I don’t know what Reilly will do if Patrick attacks him again, and I don’t want to find out.
“He’s hungry,” Reilly says, stepping closer instead of leaving. “How long has it been since you fed last, Patrick? Since you left Javier’s?”
“Reilly, just go,” I say, shooting him a glare.
Reilly hesitates, staring at me. “Why are you willing to risk your life just to help him?”
“Really not the time,” I say, shoving at his chest. He moves this time and walks back to the door.
“If you kill her, I’ll make sure you regret it,” Reilly says to Patrick before stepping outside and slamming the door shut behind him.
Patrick is still focused on me, his breath coming in short pants.
“Patrick, Javier didn’t tell me anything, I—”
“Liar!” He says, unfolding from the couch and taking three quick steps toward me. “I can smell him all over you. Did he finally get you in bed? I’ve never been sure why you haven’t jumped into bed with him. You’ll fuck anyone that looks at you twice. Did you let him feed from you too?”
My face heats and I want to punch him in the mouth.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I demand, trying to keep from shouting, and failing.
Patrick’s hands curl into fists and he tenses.
“If Javier fed from you, I should be able to,” he hisses. He takes another step forward and his movements are jerky like he’s fighting with himself. I grab a vial of holy water from my jacket pocket and curl my fingers around it. I should have been more prepared for this.
“You’re not in control Patrick, this isn’t you.”
“No,” he laughs, the sound high pitched and grating. “No, this is me. It’s always inside of me Livvy, you just don’t like to see it. You want the jokes and the fun at bars, but I’m always hungry.
He takes another step forward, eyes locks on my neck. “I’ll only take a little.”
It’s a testament to just how malnourished he is that I can dodge the first strike. He rushes at me. I flick the stopper out of the vial and sling the holy water at him. It splashes the arm he holds up to block it, some of it hitting his neck and face. He growls as it burns, but lashes out and grabs my arm before I can get another potion out.
Instead of pulling me to him, he shoves. I hit the wall, my head bouncing off the sheetrock, and crowds in close. I shove my free arm in his throat, holding him back, just barely. He’s stronger than me, I can’t do this forever.
“Patrick!” My voice breaks. “Stop it. You have to stop!”
He’s leaning in closer and my arm is collapsing slowly. I shove again with all my might and his eyes finally snap up to mine.
He freezes. His hand trembles and he stops pushing quite so hard on me.
“Livvy,” he sobs. “I’m so hungry.”
“Let me help you, please,” I whisper. “Let me take you back--”
“No!” He shouts, moving away from me so fast I almost fall forward. “No. I won’t go back.”
He runs out the front door, leaving it standing open behind him. I run after him, my legs shaking. I almost trip on the porch when Reilly steps into my path.
“Let him go,” Reilly says, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest.
“No,” I struggle against Reilly’s grip, but I can’t get his arm to budge. “He’s going to hurt himself, or someone else. He can’t. I can’t let him.”
“I can stop him.”
Reilly finally lets go and I turn around so I can see his face. “But let me guess, you want something in return?”
“Always,” Reilly says without a hint of humor on his face. “Tell me what you were really doing with Aaron Hall the night he disappeared.”
I stare at him. I can’t lie outright, he’d know. I wonder how close I can get to the truth without betraying secrets that would make my life forfeit. I don’t have time to bargain either. Patrick needs to be stopped now.
“I kidnapped him,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek nervously. “Drugged him at the strip club and took him to the warehouse and forced him to find Patrick for me. I guess the memory potion fucked his magic up, I don’t know. I’ve never exactly tested it on someone.”
He searches my face, looking for some hint of deception.
“Reilly, please,” I beg.
“I’ll be back tomorrow after sunset,” Reilly says before disappearing. I stand on the porch for a moment feeling lost. I can’t see or hear either of them now. I have to hope Reilly keeps up his end of the bargain and doesn’t hurt Patrick.
It finally registers that I’m shivering from the cold. I turn and walk back inside, my energy drained, new bruises forming on my arm.
I wish Zachary was here so I could kick his ass and work out some of this pent-up frustration. Having him in town and hearing all this stuff about my mother brings back all the memories of late nights poring over missing person reports and Jane Does found all across the country. Women with amnesia. Dead bodies, unclaimed.
Brunson and Zachary had been with me through the whole thing. Zachary was the one that had let me grip his hand until it bruised when Brunson told me my mother was dead. Had Brunson known then? Or had he thought he was telling me the truth? If the death certificate had been faked, it could be because someone wanted us to stop searching.
I pause in the living room and realize how big of a mess the house still is. I won’t clean it up anytime soon though. My mom would have fussed at me until I cleaned it up if she was here. If she was alive.
I grab the coffee table leg and throw it across the room with an angry shout, then stand there panting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I should have done this as soon as Reilly told me the records had been faked. I can’t help Patrick tonight, but I can do something. I have to know for sure if she’s dead or alive.
I rip open the junk drawer in the kitchen and dig until I find it. A map of the entire United States. My hands shake as I unfold it. Partly from hope. Partly from fear.
It's reckless to use a map that covers the entire country. Even the best Finders need a smaller area to search. Aaron Hall was weak, and that means I am too. But I don't care. I have no idea what happens if the person you're looking for is dead either. The Finders never talk about it.
I spread it out on the floor and smooth a hand over the wrinkles until it lays flat. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, searching for the subtle and warm Finding magic. It’s there, almost hiding from the electric magic I took from Novak. I pull on it and let it take over.
I stretch my hands out over the map and the magic moves under my skin, a warm trickle. It spills from my fingertips and the map shudders and lifts. The certainty I felt as I searched last time isn’t there. I don’t know if the map is too big or if it simply can’t find the dead.
Bright lines of red slip down from my hands like puppet strings and slide across the map, searching and searching. The tendrils crinkle the paper of the map as they slide across it.
The magic grows hot. One of the red lines burns a hole through the map. Then the next and the next. It surges down into the floor and I try to jerk away and end the magic, but I can’t. The magic has crept up my arms and is holding onto me now. I can’t stop.
I fall. Light flashes around me. Then absolute darkness. I can feel my arms burning where the magic is curling around them, but I can’t move. I can’t scream. I can’t see.
Memories of my mother come rushing back to me. Her face. Her laugh. The first time we brewed together. Her eyes and mouth wide as she screams the first time I stole her magic. When I didn’t know what I was doing. A dusty room with candles all around. Blood and gray ash all around me.
Olivia. Olivia. Olivia. Olivia.
The pleading.
The day she left.
Burning arms. The smell of smoke filling my nose.
8
I wake up all at once, my breath coming in great, heaving gasps. My vision is blurry. I rub my hand over my eyes a
nd hiss in pain.
My hands are covered in stripes of blisters that swirl all the way up my arms. I sit up, shaking, and look around. The map is ash on the floor and there are scorch marks all around me.
“Shit,” I whisper hoarsely. My throat is raw, as though I’ve been screaming. I struggle to my feet and try to think. I have a salve for burns. It’s in the workroom. I’m exhausted, and so is my magic. There’s no way I’ll be able to heal myself right now.
I stumble down the hall and through the open door to the workroom. I’m able to nudge the door to the mini fridge open with my foot, but I’m going to have to open the salve with my hands.
I grit my teeth, grab it and twist the lid open as quickly as I can. A blister pops and my eyes water. I hate the feeling of burns, nothing hurts quite quite like it.
With shaking fingers I spread the salve over my hands first. It itches like crazy as the magic seeps into my skin and begins to heal from the inside out. I have to take a break after my hands are covered. I slide down the wall and lean my head against the cool door of the fridge.
I knew she was dead. It was stupid to let Reilly rekindle that hope. I should probably stop all of this right now. Stop looking for a coverup. Stop looking for her killer. Even thinking it makes me feel like a failure. She would have done anything for me, but I don’t have her strength. I fell apart when she disappeared, and every choice I’ve made since then only seems to lead me farther down the wrong path. Brunson tried to help me, but after he died too, I just ran. I’ve been barely hanging on ever since.
I turn my hands over and examine the backs. The burns are fading, but the salve can only do so much, and I apparently can’t heal this with magic. Red welts wind around each finger and the back of my hands. They reach up my arms, almost to my shoulders. I spread more of the salve over my arms. I have to pause every few seconds, panting against the pain.
Mr. Muffins pads into the room, stopping just inside the doorway.
Price of Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Witch's Bite Series Book 2) Page 6
