Curses & Blood

by Kim Richardson

  Raynor snorted. So did Malark. Creepy. “Your crime scene?” said the big witch. “I don’t see your name on it.” He spoke English with a slight foreign accent I couldn’t place.

  What a dumbass. “If you don’t get out in the next few seconds, I’ll have to report you to the Court.” See how you like that. Wouldn’t be their golden boy for long if they knew what he was up to, sneaking in places he didn’t belong.

  Faris leaned over to me and whispered. “Your verbal assaults need a little work, Sammy darling. Try attacking one’s physical appearance. Always works for me.”

  I gave Faris a hard look, my mood souring to the point I could feel it thumping against my temples. This was my first assignment since the fiasco with the mages. I wouldn’t let Raynor ruin it for me. I had to eat. I needed the money. He wouldn’t get between me and my veggie pizza with extra cheese.

  “I’m working a job,” said the male witch. I nearly choked on my spit.

  “Excuse me?”

  Raynor leaned over the faerie’s head to the point where his nose nearly touched it. “I’m here to investigate the murder of the Gray Council member.” Malark hopped off the witch’s shoulder and crawled over the faerie’s body, stopping here and there, his large mandibles twitching like he was gathering evidence. If I were human, I would have probably run out screaming by now at the sight of the gargantuan bug. As a Dark witch, I just thought he was annoying and contaminating my crime scene with his buggy footprints.

  “Hmmm. That’s nice. Well, I know Dark witches,” I said. “I am one. And when we want something really, really badly… we lie.”

  “I’m not lying,” answered the witch.

  I cocked a brow. “You’re working for the Gray Council?” That was a first. But it wasn’t unheard of. Sometimes the Gray Council hired mercs and other half-breeds in a freelance capacity.

  “The Dark Witch Court,” said Raynor after a moment.

  I felt like I’d been slapped in the face, and my stomach clenched. “I’m working the case for the Dark Witch Court. They sent me. You can’t be here. This is obviously a mistake.”

  Malark laughed, a screechy, high-pitched, noise that made me want to squish him with my boot. I nudged a little closer.

  “It’s no mistake,” said the witch. “The Court put me on this case.”

  “Sammy.” Faris crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s this bald miscreant talking about? I thought they gave you this murder case?”

  I bared my teeth, my pulse rising as I tapped into the magic of my rings. I couldn’t help it. “I’m perfectly capable of working a murder case on my own.” Thank you very much.

  Raynor turned and looked up at me with an expression somewhere between irritation and contempt. “Well, if that were true, they wouldn’t have sent me, now would they? Guess you’re not as good as you think you are.”

  My lips parted as the room wavered. Suddenly the walls in the vault seemed a lot closer, the inside smaller, and I was hit with a feeling of claustrophobia. The same feelings of failure, incompetence, and deception from when I’d discovered the Court had hired me out of pity came crashing in on me all over again. The Dark Witch Court still didn’t trust my abilities, and now they’d gone ahead and assigned two witches to the same case. Because someone didn’t feel I could handle it—someone who went by the name Tran.

  With two members of the Dark Witch Court dead after the mage attacks and the disappearance of their recently appointed Arthur Barlow, AKA my daddy dearest, they were short three members. Tran had managed to put it to a vote and won.

  I was certain I still had my job—otherwise I’m sure Raynor would have made it known to me the moment the brute stepped into the vault—but the fact that another witch was butting in made things a hell of a lot more complicated. Plus, I hated sharing.

  Malark rested next to the bullet hole in the faerie’s forehead. His eyes flashed with blue demonic energy, just as I saw the same blue light fade from Raynor’s. They were communicating. Then the beetle crawled back up onto Raynor’s shoulder, right up to his ear. The bastard beetle was whispering something. I just knew it.

  Raynor straightened, his pale eyes fixing mine. “Why the face? If you’re nice, I might even give you a few tips. You’re gonna need them.”

  My fingers pricked with magic. “I should have been told.”

  “You’re not that important.”

  “And you are?”

  “Better than you,” answered the witch, winning a joyful chirp from his beetle.

  I stiffened, not liking how he was making me feel. Like I wasn’t strong enough or intelligent enough, to solve this case on my own. The fact that he was here was a major hit to my witch’s ego. He knew it too. But I wouldn’t show him how much his presence affected me. I relaxed my posture, trying not to put anything belligerent or challenging into it.

  Raynor had a reputation. His ratio of solved cases was probably higher than mine, I’ll admit it, but he wasn’t the strongest witch on the planet. Undoubtedly he had magical talents and skills in addition to his experience—otherwise, he wouldn’t be here—but I’d certainly never seen them.

  He was invading my territory, and like the alpha female I was, I was going to defend it. Not with a draw of magical blows, though. I didn’t want to fight him. The last thing I needed was for the Court to remove me from the case for accidentally removing Raynor’s head and sticking in his ass. Not to mention, it might ruin my reputation to be known as a witch who couldn’t work on a case with others. I didn’t have to like it, but I could play along.

  I would solve this murder, and I’d do it before Raynor. Guaranteed. It’s on!

  Faris began circling Raynor and leaning in every few steps, way too close, enough to invade his personal space. It was an awesome sight to behold.

  Annoyance rippled over Raynor’s face, temporarily removing his arrogant sneer. “What’s he doing?”

  I noticed how he wouldn’t acknowledge Faris directly. “Is there a problem?” I couldn’t hide my slight smile as I felt my tension ease with the increasing level of visible irritation from Raynor.

  Red blotches spotted his face. “Did he… did he just sniff me?”

  I flashed my teeth. “He likes you,” I answered, seeing Raynor’s frown deepen, which made me all giddy inside.

  “You can tell a lot from a person just by the way they smell,” answered Faris. He looked at me and said. “Well, take Sammy here for example. She smells like the first autumn rain.” He turned to the witch. “I’m happy to convey that you, sir, smell like shit.”

  I choked on a laugh. Cauldron help me.

  A hissing sound came from Malark’s throat. “Keep it up, tar’khydae. I can think of a few demons who’d love to know where you’ve been hiding all this time.”

  I had no idea what that demonic word was, but from Faris’s murderous expression, it was most definitely an insult. I’d have to ask him about it later.

  I felt the cold prick of demonic magic brush across my skin. Faris was going to deep fry that beetle.

  A smart witch knows when to put up a fight. This was not the time.

  I stepped forward, grabbed Faris’s elbow and pulled him back. “Don’t,” I whispered, seeing a muscle twitch in his jaw. Vehement anger colored his face. I still hadn’t registered Faris as my familiar. The last thing we both needed was the Courts to force me to break our familiar bond, thus sending Faris on a direct flight back to the Netherworld to die. I also didn’t need Raynor sticking his giant nose where it didn’t belong, yet I had a feeling this wasn’t the last I’d see of him either.

  “Who are you?” ordered Raynor, finally acknowledging Faris’s presence. The dim scent of sulfur rose on the air, and a cold tingle of magic rippled over my skin, making it riddle in goosebumps. He was pulling on his magic. Oh, no you don’t.

  “He’s a mid-demon,” answered Malark, his blue eyes flashing angrily. “An outcast back in his homeland. He’s got no business here.” The rest of his words were lost to me
as he whispered them in Raynor’s ear. I watched as the witch’s smile returned. Whatever the beetle had told him, I was sure I’d hate it.

  How the hell did the damn beetle know this? Was there some social network from the Netherworld I didn’t know about?

  Raynor stood with a cocky smile. “Should never send a girl to do a man’s job,” he said, and Malark snickered.

  Oh. No. He. Didn’t.

  I pressed my lips together and fumed, frustrated, as I kept my magic in tow. The bastard was asking for it.

  Faris tsked, watching the brute witch. “So angry and uptight. Oh-h-h-h-h, I know,” he drawled, his eyes widening. “Do you need some love? I know lots of cheap hookers. That’s your type. Isn’t it?”

  Raynor’s face turned red, all the way up to his bald head. He turned to me. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

  I stared at him, not knowing if he meant this case or Faris. “I’m getting really tired of hearing that.”

  Raynor’s mouth curled again in an expression of wary amusement. “Get used to it.”

  “I work alone,” I said, hating that smile on his face. “Don’t expect me to share anything with you.” Not like I had anything to share apart from the nine-millimeter bullet still lodged into that dead faerie’s forehead.

  Raynor gave me that contemptuous smile again, like he was privy to some secret I didn’t know. “I don’t need anything from you. I have everything I need.” He spat a few words under his breath and sauntered out of the vault.

  “Stinky bastard,” cursed Faris, anger still heavy on him. “The bald ones are always so sensitive and angry,” he added, his voice high and mocking. “All that pent-up hairless resentment. Can’t even take a joke. He was jealous.”

  I raised a skeptical brow. “Jealous?”

  Faris raked his fingers through his thick black hair. “Look at me. I’m practically a god walking on this side of the world. Irresistible to all things female.” He raised his brows suggestively.

  Oh boy. I rubbed my temples. “I need a drink.”

  “That makes two of us.” The demon smiled.

  I pressed my hands to my hips. “I’m not leaving until I have more to go on.”

  The mid-demon moved to stand over the dead body. “Don’t worry, Sammy. We’ll figure out who shot Spock.”

  “I know.” I looked about the room, letting my investigative skills drive me. “The body’s evidence.”

  “A giant clue.”

  I nodded. “But there’s got to be something else here. Something we’ve missed.” Most probably because of Raynor’s interruption. His presence had killed my focus.

  Faris stared at me steadily for a moment. “Like what? Mold? Stagnant air? Insect frass?”

  Gross. “Why kill the faerie here?” I met the demon’s dark eyes. “Why not somewhere less guarded… like at his home? Or outside in the parking lot? Because there’s something important in here. It’s a vault, right?”

  “Your perceptiveness amazes me.”

  I let out a sigh. “Vaults are where people keep secrets and valuables locked up. If you have something to hide, this is where you stick it and hope no one will ever find it.”

  “And?”

  “Look for something that’s missing.”

  A smile pulled the corners of Faris’s lips. “Ah-ha. You’ve got that Sherlock cap back on. Although, if we are going to do costumes… I do prefer a French maid’s outfit. Just FYI.”

  “Shut your pie hole and start looking, demon,” I warned.

  The mid-demon bowed from the waist. “Yes, mistress.”

  I moved to the left side of the vault just as Faris moved to the right.

  “What are we looking for exactly?” asked the demon after a moment.

  “I don’t know. It’s missing.”

  “Good to know.”

  I exhaled loudly and followed the first shelf from left to right, my eyes rolling over the heavily stacked books and jars as I tried to see everything at once. Nothing appeared to be missing. I moved on to the upper shelf and did the same, scanning over bleached bones, more jars with questionable floating masses, books and scrolls and more books—

  A space was visible next to a row of packed old books. I leaned forward. A perfect, cutout rectangle of dustless space on the shelf. Bingo.

  “Here. Right here,” I said, pointing to the spot, my heart thrashing with excitement.

  Faris was next to me in a bound. “What am I staring at? Air?”

  “A missing book. Look at the dust. See that right there? A book used to sit in that spot, right between these two books. And it looks to me like this book was in here for a very, very long time. This is what they took. This is why they killed the faerie.”

  I read the spines of the two books sitting next to the open space. “Angeli ex horizon,” I read in Latin. Angels and Horizon. “Magicae et Origins.” Magic and its origins. “Hmm. Not much in common. This isn’t exactly telling me anything about the book that’s missing.”

  The mid-demon shrugged. “Just that they need to hire better housecleaning services.”

  My pulse raced at finding this new clue. “Okay. So far, we know they took an old book and killed a faerie for it.”

  “But we don’t know which old book.”

  “No. But maybe they do.” I stepped out of the vault and walked over to the two officers standing out in the hallway. “What’s missing?” I asked.

  The officers exchanged a look. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” answered the vampire, his jaw tight. He was lying.

  “My witch asked you a question, bloodsucker,” warned Faris as he moved to stand next to me. “You better answer it.” God, not that again.

  The officers stood in a collective silence, their faces hard with determination. The werewolf made a show of the gun at his waist. GHOSTS carried guns too, interesting.

  I flicked my gaze between the two of them. “Then you don’t deny that something is missing. Right? That whoever killed the Council member took something?”

  They remained quiet. Good enough for me. I didn’t have to spell them with a truth-hex to read their faces. Besides, I was in a very good mood. I’d figured it out. All Raynor had was bad breath.

  “They took a book.” I tried again, speaking slowly. “A very old book. Which one was it? Eh?”

  Silence.

  “I don’t think these grunts can read,” said Faris. “They’re the more manual type.”

  “We can read,” growled the vampire. I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t laugh.

  I cocked my hip. “Great. You have scholastic skills. Good for you. Which book?”

  “We don’t know what’s in the vault,” answered the werewolf after a moment. “Our job is to guard the building and watch over the Council.”

  “Did a piss poor job of it too,” mumbled Faris, winning dual scowls from the officers.

  It was an effort not to laugh at them, but I managed to give them a hard look. “So, who would know what’s missing? Who can I ask?”

  The werewolf shrugged. “Any member of the Gray Council.”

  “Thanks a bunch.” I grabbed Faris by the elbow and steered him toward the stairs to the upper level.

  My mood had improved tenfold. Seeing Raynor had put a damper on my spirits and my faith in my investigative skills and abilities. But in his pompous and overly confident manner, he’d missed a crucial clue. He’d missed the motive. He’d missed the evidence that had the Council member killed.

  But I had it. And I was going to find out what that book was before Raynor. I smiled. That, in itself, was a colossal win.

  One for Samantha.

  And zero for his royal-douchebag Raynor.

  CHAPTER 3

  Getting an audience with the Gray Council took some serious negotiating skills, not to mention using up all the favors I had left—which were a total of two—just to finally get an answer back from the Dark Witch Court. I wasn’t VIP enough to communicate directly with the almighty Gray Council
. Just the Court.

  “It’s a go,” Poe had chirped happily only two hours ago. Eyeing him on the kitchen counter, I had found no evidence of the messenger pigeon’s feathers in his beak or on his person. However, it still didn’t convince me that he hadn’t attacked the pigeon and forced the message out of the poor bird. Knowing Poe, he probably did.

  “Midnight tonight. Don’t be late.” Poe had walked over to the fruit bowl and had begun to tear into an apple.

  I could barely contain myself. Standing before the Gray Council was a huge deal. To get a meeting with them, you either had to have a seat on your Court, be a Head of one of the angel-born houses, or be on your way to jail. I hadn’t messed things up enough to warrant a trip to Grimway Citadel, the witch prison. Well, not yet anyway.

  It was all too easy for me. This never happened. It seemed the universe had finally decided to give me a break. A colossal one. And I took it gladly.

  “Is my being with you going to be a problem?” Faris walked alongside me as we trudged through the underground parking reserved for the building’s tenants, crowded with mostly dark BMW, Audi and Mercedes sedans and SUVs. The air stank of concrete and engine oil. The Gray Council held their meetings in a high rise in New York City next to Central Park—a vast structure built of metal and glass. Showoffs.

  “I don’t think so.” Total lie. Of course it would. I hadn’t registered Faris yet as my familiar. That was a giant no-no in the witch community and probably a worse offense with the Gray Council. But I was feeling bold and rebellious tonight. Things were finally going my way, and a little thing like not registering my familiar wouldn’t stop me. A veggie burger with extra fries and cheese… maybe.

  “Would you have stayed home if I had asked you to?”

  Faris laughed, the dim lights of the underground parking shadowing his face. “Try and stop me, my little witch.” His voice was silvery smooth with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Every once in a while, someone extraordinary comes into your life… and here I am. You’re welcome.”

  “Please.”

  “I go where you go. Think of us like Siamese twins, Sam. You and I are twinzies.”