Curses & Blood

by Kim Richardson

  “Sammy darling?” I heard Faris say. “You did it. Sammy? Can you hear me?”

  My breath was pushed out of my lungs, and I felt myself fall.

  And then the darkness took me.

  CHAPTER 6

  The sounds of distant voices jolted me awake. Heart thrashing, I sat up, blinking away my blurred vision. My sudden panic subsided as I recognized my room. I was in my bed.

  I lifted the covers to see only a pair of black bikini undies. I was practically butt-naked.

  “Faris,” I hissed, grimacing. The bastard had put me to bed, stripped my clothes off and decided to only leave my underwear. That’s it. He was dead. Soooo dead.

  Judging by the orange-colored sky through my bedroom window, I guessed it to be around six in the evening. Seemed like I’d slept the day away.

  The last thing I remembered was the cries of the angry demons as the Rift finally closed, shutting them off. The spell had worked, but I was physically drained and a little woozy. Everything hurt. It took a behemoth effort to swing my legs off my bed in search of some clean clothes.

  After taking a quick shower—to get rid of the remaining meek bits in my hair—brushing my teeth and pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a black top, I ventured down the stairs toward the voices.

  My grandfather banged one of the kitchen drawers closed. His blue bathrobe swirled around with him as he turned, wooden spoon in hand, looking like he was about to use it on Faris.

  This time, I’d let him.

  Tension pulled his shoulders stiff. His face was tight and color spotted his cheeks. His frown lifted at the sight of me. It was obvious I’d interrupted something. I loved a good argument.

  “Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead,” greeted Faris, sitting at the kitchen island with a drink in his hand and a sly smile on his face.

  I pressed my lips together and fumed, frustrated. I frowned, thinking I could use that castration spell I’d been meaning to try. I opened my mouth to tell him off, but I slammed it shut when I spotted Logan approaching from the living room.

  He wore a pair of light blue jeans instead of his usual black and had matched them with a black T-shirt. It hugged him in all the right places. His wide shoulders were hard with muscles his shirt couldn’t hide. I bet those legs were fabulous under those jeans as I imagined myself ripping them off for a little peek. I hadn’t seen him naked. Not yet. But I had a healthy and vivid imagination. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that if he looked this good with clothes on, he’d be spectacular with them off. Oh, yeah.

  Dark brown hair framed a square jaw and straight nose. Matching brown eyes searched my face.

  My heart leaped at the sight of him. I couldn’t help it. I was a warm-blooded female, after all. I had needs. I looked away before I started drooling.

  “When did you get here?” I asked the handsome angel-born, my mood lifting ever so lightly. I kept my voice even, though I was still a little ticked at him. That restaurant business still didn’t settle well with me.

  I glanced at Faris and gave him my “I’ll deal with you later” look. The mid-demon showed me his teeth. Oh, yeah. He was dead.

  “I tried calling you last night, but you never picked up,” said Logan, and I felt he was holding something back. “You haven’t returned any of my calls.”

  Faris snorted. “Most people would take that as a hint.”

  Logan’s face showed no emotion, but his eyes were hard with a possible threat. “I got worried when you didn’t return my call this morning,” he said, looking at me. “So I came here.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, glowering at Faris. “You didn’t have to worry.” It felt nice that he cared, though. It was odd that he cared enough to show up at my house but not enough to show me off to the rest of the paranormal community. I would ask him about that later, just not right now.

  “Fine? You’re not fine,” exclaimed my grandfather, wisps of his white hair floating in the air in an invisible breeze. That’s what happened when he got upset. His magic was oozing out of him like sweat, and right now, it was lifting his hair like he’d touched a plasma ball. “You could have been killed!” he shrieked, his hands in the air like he was offering something to the Goddess. “What were you thinking?”

  “Save the world. You know. That kind of thing.”

  My grandfather’s eyes flashed. “Don’t be a smart ass. What do you mean you tried to close a Rift on your own! That’s madness. A coven of witches should do that. A coven. They channel the magic between themselves. Because it takes a great amount of energy and power to close a Rift. Smart witches don’t go around closing Rifts on their own. A smart witch would have gone to get help. You could have died, Samantha. Did you think about that? Did you think about what losing you would have done to me? No. Of course not.”

  Here we go. “I had no choice.” I opened the fridge and grabbed the Tupperware container with tiny cut sandwiches. My eyes widened as I tore into one. “These are good,” I said, my mouth full and salivating at the explosion of flavors on my tongue. “I love egg sandwiches. Mmm. These are really good. Is that real mayo?”

  My grandfather let out a puff of breath. “Charlotte made them. And don’t change the subject.” He pointed a finger at me threateningly as though it were a sharp object. “What you did was reckless.”

  I put the Tupperware down on the counter and grabbed another sandwich. “Can I just have a moment to eat, please? I’m exhausted and starving. Saving the world does that to a person.” I took another bite and watched as Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen wall facing the island. His eyes were troubled, and I was certain there was something he hadn’t told me yet.

  Looking bothered and about to blow steam out of his ears, my grandfather planted his feet widely with an aggressive stance. “With everything that’s happened with the mages. Your father. I thought you’d be smarter than this. Risking your life? Witches don’t throw away their lives. You weren’t thinking. When are you ever going to learn? You should have asked for backup. You should have sent for help instead of dealing with a Rift on your own.”

  Faris set his glass down and looked at my grandfather, his face wrinkled with irritation. “And what am I? Her broomstick? She was safe. I was there. She was never in harm’s way. Case closed, old man.”

  A shadow fell over my grandfather’s face. “Don’t you start with me, demon,” he threatened. “She’s the only family I have left. It was a mistake making you her familiar. I see that now. A mistake that can be easily be rectified.”

  Oh boy. I took another bite of my sandwich, enjoying the drama. Too bad Poe wasn’t here. He would have loved this.

  “I brought her home alive and well. Didn’t I?” Faris’s voice rose dangerously high. “I’ll admit, she was a little banged up. But nothing that couldn’t be fixed. And, as you can see, she’s all good now. What more do you want?”

  A T-shirt to sleep in would have been nice. “Look. This isn’t Faris’s fault. By the time reinforcements had arrived, I would have been a demon filet mignon, and thousands of demons would have crossed over.”

  My grandfather glared at Faris from across the kitchen island. “It is his fault. As your familiar, it’s his job to watch over you. His only job. What’s the point of having a familiar if he can’t even do something as mundane as protecting his witch!”

  Faris stood up from his stool. “You want mundane? I’ll show you mundane, you feeble, insufferable old witch.”

  My grandfather didn’t acknowledge Faris’s threat, his eyes still on me. “He’s supposed to protect you. Not throw you to the wolves!”

  “No wolves were involved,” said the mid-demon, his tone slightly amused. “Promise.”

  A deep breath sifted through me. “Shut up, Faris. Sit down and drink your gin like a good demon. This is not helping.” I waited for the mid-demon to sit and then I stole a glance at Logan. The angel-born wore a frown over his pretty face. He was quiet. Too quiet. And I didn’t like that.

 
I pulled my attention back to my grandfather, relieved to see him with his mouth shut. “Look. What I did was save everyone’s asses. It was either I tried something, or thousands of demons would be here right now, feasting on humans and half-breeds. I couldn’t let that happen. I did what I had to do.” Though it wasn’t in my job description, I felt an obligation to protect my city by any means I possessed. If that meant burning up all my energy to close a portal from the Netherworld, then so be it.

  With stiff movements, my grandfather rummaged through one of the top cabinets, pulled out one large bottle of Gordon’s Broomshine, and poured himself a generous portion, making Faris grimace in distaste. “It’s not always up to you to save the world,” he said as he took a swig. He swallowed and added, “You need to leave some for the others.”

  “I called, but Superman was on vacation.”

  Faris snorted, winning him the scowl of the century from my granddad.

  “I think I’ll go see Charlotte.” My grandfather set his glass down, red blotches spotting his face. He tightened his robe. “At least she appreciates me.”

  Fantastic. “Grandpa… don’t say that. I didn’t mean it. You know how I get when I’m tired. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I was a fool.

  The old witch raised his hand at me and then stormed out the kitchen just seconds before the front door slammed shut.

  “Does he realize he’s still in his bathrobe?” questioned Faris, looking mildly impressed.

  I felt a stab of guilt. Sometimes my mouth got the better of me. But my grandfather didn’t deserve that. I’d apologize later when he’d calmed down.

  My head throbbed, and I realized it was my body telling me to hydrate. Grabbing a glass, I filled it with our filtered tap water.

  After taking two giant gulps, my eyes found the angel-born. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something?” By the slight edge of the tone in his voice, I knew it wasn’t a booty call. Too bad. That would have been fun. “What is it, Logan? You look like you have something to say.” He was one of the dark, silent types. Still, he usually had more to say.

  “Yes,” said Faris, staring into his glass. “Join the party, Boy Scout. Just don’t expect any male bonding from me. The only bonding I do is with the ladies.”

  Logan’s dark eyes met mine across the kitchen. “I’d heard about Sarek’s death. I was at the crime scene with a team and I overheard the GHOSTS talking about a witch and her demon boyfriend.”

  Faris perked up, his lips curling into a smile to show off his perfect teeth. “They called me her boyfriend? Really?” His grin widened.

  “Faris, don’t start,” I warned, wanting to toss my water over his head to smother that flaming ego.

  Logan’s eyes darted to Faris. His expression went sour, and a dangerous light caught behind his eyes. I wasn’t sure if I thought it was cute that he openly opposed the idea of people considering Faris my boyfriend, or if this was just a show of male dominance. I didn’t belong to anyone.

  Logan hesitated, his sharp gaze scanning the kitchen before returning to me. “They told me you asked them about a book.”

  I raised my brows. “And they just told you that?” The GHOSTS hadn’t been very forthcoming with me. But then again, I was just a Dark witch. Whereas Logan was the Head of House Michael. He was practically royalty in the eyes of our community—another reason he might not want to be seen with the likes of me.

  A tiny smile quirked Logan’s lips. “I can be persuasive.”

  I bet you can. “Yes. There is a book. Well, there was a book. It’s gone now. But it was the only thing missing from the vault from what I could tell. The killers went to this particular vault for that particular book. Killed the faerie for it.”

  Logan pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer. A frown creased his brow. “The Gray Council didn’t mention anything to me about a book.”

  I stared curiously at the angel-born. He didn’t know about it either. Very interesting. “That’s because they don’t want us to know about it. Any of us, it seems.” If Logan was also in the dark about this mysterious book, it only confirmed my suspicions that the book was either dark and powerful or extremely evil. I was going for extremely evil.

  Logan took a hasty breath. “If this book was kept in those vaults, it’s bad news.”

  “Probably,” I answered. “But I still need to find it.” And I would.

  “Whatever for?” expressed Faris. “Who cares why they took that damn book? It’s not your problem. Let them deal with it.”

  “Because if I find the book,” I told him, “I can find those who killed Sarek. That’s what the Court pays me for. They gave me this case.” And that bastard Raynor. “The book is the key. And I’m going to find it.”

  Finding Sarek’s murderer was my priority, but something else bothered me. A flutter of unease stirred through my chest at the thought of the Rift. Why hadn’t the Veil healed itself?

  I glanced at Logan again. “Have you ever heard of a Rift not closing before? Has that ever happened to your knowledge?”

  Logan stroked his jaw, pensive and in deep thought. “Never. In my experience, the Veil has always managed to repair itself. It’s how it was designed. Like a layer of skin. If you cut it, a scab forms and it heals. Not healing makes no sense. None.”

  “But that’s what happened. There’s a reason behind it.” A shiver rolled up my spine at the thought of those crispy human bodies in the park. “If I hadn’t closed it… it would have stayed open.” And it would have been hell on earth, smack in the middle of New York City.

  “Why don’t you ask the demon here.” Logan gestured toward Faris. “I’m sure he knows why that happened. Ask him.”

  Faris’s gaze turned murderous. “Why? Because I’m a demon I must know everything that’s happening in my homeworld. Do you know everything that’s going on in this world?”

  Logan smiled. “I do, actually. Yes,” he said, matching the mid-demon’s glare with his own.

  “I haven’t been privy to any new Rifts.” Faris raised his arms. “How could I? When I’ve been stuck here with witches too senile to remember put clothes on when there’s company.” He pointed to his eyes. “These babies are scarred for life.”

  Yes, he was a baby. “Faris,” I said. “In your wise demon opinion… what would need to happen for a Rift to open indefinitely?”

  Faris leaned back and crossed his arms. “Nothing. You can’t open them indefinitely.”

  Okay. Really not helping. I thought about that. “If not forever, but longer. Like, a few hours or even a day?”

  “It takes an enormous amount of energy and strength to cut through the Veil from the Netherworld’s side,” answered the demon. “It would require a massive effort just to keep one Rift open for a few hours. I’ve never heard of one staying open for that amount of time.”

  A ribbon of tension squeezed my chest. “How are they opened in the first place?”

  The mid-demon shrugged. “Souls. Lots and lots of mortal souls.”

  Great. Just freaking great. “Okay. So a demon in the Netherworld, for reasons unknown, decided to gather enough energy from mortal souls to have this Rift open for longer than usual. My head hurts just thinking about it.”

  “Seems like it.” Faris raised a brow. “Though, they must have used hundreds of thousands of souls. Perhaps millions—”

  I lifted my hand. “Thanks. I get the picture.” The thought of millions of souls being sacrificed for their energy left a vile taste in my mouth. More so, now that I knew Faris used to deal with souls. It’s how he made a living. My egg sandwich suddenly felt like it wanted out.

  “No way,” said Logan. His tone was edged with vehemence. The skin around his eyes tightened. “That’s not possible.”

  Faris bit back a snort. “Anything’s possible, Boy Scout. If you cut a wound deep enough, sometimes it just can’t heal.”

  Damn. I hoped Faris was wrong. I drummed my fingers on the counter, trying to piece everything toget
her. “On the same night a member of the Gray Council gets shot in the head to steal a book, this Rift appears. One that doesn’t want to close. That’s not a coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Neither do I.” Logan leaned against the counter, his expression reflective. The light from the kitchen carved out his features, making him look way too sexy standing there. He was so close if I wanted to, I could just reach out, grab a fistful of his shirt, pull him to me, and smack my big lips against his. Totally inappropriate. Yes, I was bad.

  “You think this book and the Rifts are connected?” asked Logan after a moment’s hesitation. He’d been listening to our conversation very intently.

  Let me think about it. “Yes. I do.” There was still that blast in the park that was odd, with the strength to throw me and Faris to the ground. Rifts didn’t blast into existence. If they did, they’d have the entire paranormal community next to them, waiting for the unassuming demon to step through to kill it. It was like sounding an alarm and telling the world they’d showed up, which was the exact opposite of what Rifts were. Rifts were designed to be silent, practically unnoticeable, to enable demons to slip through undetected.

  “You said Rifts. Not Rift. There was more than one?” God help us all if there were still open Rifts in the city.

  “There were two more. One near Washington Heights,” he said, his gaze on me. “And the other in Brooklyn. And both stayed open for an unusual amount of time. Never seen anything like it before.”

  Cauldron help us. Fear and adrenaline spiked through me. “And you said were as in… they’re closed?”

  “The Rifts were shut down before things got out of hand.”

  I set my glass on the counter. “How the hell did you manage that?” This hot angel-born was full of surprises. I liked it.

  The smug smile on the angel-born’s face made his features even more desirable. “With a few moonstones,” answered the angel-born. At my quizzical brow he added, “They disrupt the magnetic field in the Veil. Counter the energy from the Netherworld that’s holding it up. Sort of what EMP bombs do to anything electrical and magnetic. Shuts it off. The Rifts can’t handle it… they collapse.”