Curses & Blood

by Kim Richardson

  My gaze moved to the faerie, my anger tightening all the muscles in my body.

  Irva had a wicked smile on her face. “Like I said, we’ve hired someone with experience to work this case. Raynor’s worked for the Council multiple times before. Go home, Samantha. You’re not needed here.”

  By the fae’s nasty attitude, I had the ugly feeling the Council not only knew the EAM was involved but had been covering up its activity so they could take care of it themselves.

  Logan watched me, and I had no idea what he was thinking or what the expression on his face meant.

  The walls suddenly felt too close like the room was too small for so many people at once, not to mention the poor dead bastard who still hung from the ceiling.

  “We should go,” I told Faris. “I’ve got everything I need.” And I knew I wasn’t going to get any more from Irva.

  “Samantha.” Logan came forward. “I need to speak with you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Logan froze, staring at me in horror as the words sank in.

  I pushed off and walked out of the room, not looking at Logan or anyone. I was too pissed off. And I might do something stupid and foolish like spell Irva’s clothes off. I just wanted to get out.

  “Popcorn?” offered Faris when we made it out of the apartment and toward the elevator. Logan didn’t follow.

  “No, thanks.” I pressed the button and waited.

  “You do realize the ice queen was lying through her fae teeth. Don’t you?” Faris took another handful of popcorn and tossed it into his mouth.

  “I know.”

  It was clear Irva didn’t want me to know about the book the EAM took. Why? There could only be one reason. Because the Gray Council didn’t want anyone to know they had the book in the first place.

  Interesting. Very interesting.

  And I was going to find it.

  CHAPTER 13

  I didn’t know how long I lay in bed, refusing to open my eyes. I knew once I did, it would mean I was awake. And once I was awake, I would have to get up. I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to kill something. Preferably with Irva’s face on it.

  My head hurt, and the images of Lars’s dead body, the ritual, and the EAM cronies all came flashing back in my mind’s eye like movie clips on fast forward, making me feel particularly small and ineffective.

  Extreme Anti-magic Movement. Who were these freaks? Why hadn’t I ever heard of them until now? Why did a group of humans who hated magic steal a book from the Gray Council vault and then perform a magical ritual to summon a demon? It didn’t make sense. The pieces didn’t fit. And Irva made sure to keep me in the dark. I was certain she knew more, and she was willing to let more half-breeds die to keep her secret. The fae was psychotic. She was going down.

  I still had no idea what this EAM group was after, but I would make it my mission to find out. I was painfully conscious of the work I still had to do yet had no new leads. Great.

  And Raynor, well, he was going down too. It made sense now, why he had that arrogant look about him, like he knew more than I did about the case. It was probably true. Irva probably let him in on the details of the EAM cronies and the missing book. Damn, he probably knew which book they’d stolen. Part of me thought about asking him, but the smarter part reinforced the fact that he’d never tell me anything. He wanted to solve the case as much as I did. From what I knew about him, he wanted the glory. I wanted the cash and the assurance I’d get more gigs coming in after I solved the case.

  I let out a long breath. I had no idea what time it was. I’d barely slept, tossing and turning all night and most of the morning while trying to make sense of it all. I was also trying to figure out where Logan fit into this mess. Why had he acted that way? Why did he side with Irva when he knew solving this case meant food on the table for me? Why hadn’t he told me about the EAM?

  Anger burned a hole in my gut. My thoughts zinged back to the three dinner dates at three different Manhattan restaurants. He hadn’t wanted to be seen with me. Perhaps that included the Gray Council.

  Disheartened, I tightened my jaw. It hurt. It hurt like hell. I’d admit that. But I wasn’t going to waste my time and energy on an angel-born who thought me lesser than him. I’d been through enough hardship in my life. I could survive a broken heart. It would take a lot more than a man to break me.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  In a jerk of adrenaline, my eyes flashed open and my breath came fast. With a spell on my lips, I sat up in a flash, my heart thumping in my throat and trying to squeeze through my teeth.

  Faris was sprawled in the corner of my bedroom on a chair with a bemused expression on his face. “You snore in your sleep. It’s not cute at all.”

  “Faris!” I growled, clasping my arms around me, though I was content I had a T-shirt on and wasn’t naked. “What the hell are you doing? I thought we were clear about the ‘no more sleeping next to me when I’m sleeping’ rule!”

  The mid-demon raised his arms in mock surrender. “You never said I couldn’t sit in a chair and watch you sleep.”

  I cringed on the inside. “Oh my God. I’m going to kill you. Do you know how creepy it is to watch someone sleep? It’s really not cool. Not cool, Faris.”

  The mid-demon flashed me his teeth. “But creepy looks so good on me.”

  “You’re dead.”

  “What? Watching you sleep kills the time. I got bored. There was nothing particularly interesting to watch on the television.” His eyes widened. “You, on the other hand, are so much more interesting to watch when you sleep. Did you know the human sleep cycle consists of two periods of night sleep that are called ‘dead sleep’ and ‘morning sleep’?”

  I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t care.” This couldn’t keep going on. “Faris. I don’t want you in here watching me sleep. Got it? Never. Ever. Do I make myself clear?”

  The mid-demon looked offended. “It’s not like I undressed you or anything. I never even went near your clothes.”

  “Faris!”

  “Okay, okay,” he said with a small laugh. “I understand. No more watching the mistress sleeping.”

  “Wait—how many times have you done this?”

  Faris shrugged. “I don’t know. Thirty times? Give or take a day or two.”

  Cauldron help me. Faris was my familiar. And by being so, he would be stuck to me until my last breath.

  I let out another sigh. “Please tell me this is going to get easier.”

  “This is going to get easier,” he repeated and flashed me one of his famous smiles that had females throwing themselves at him.

  It was pointless. I knew the mid-demon would do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. It was why mid-demons never made good familiars. You couldn’t control them. And you wouldn’t want to.

  “Get out so I can get dressed.”

  Faris stood up, and his smile grew to show a slip of teeth before he turned as if to leave. “Do you like omelets? They’re a great source of protein.”

  My eyebrows rose. “I do.” Faris was concerned about my diet?

  “Excellent.” Faris turned in the threshold and disappeared down the hallway.

  “That is one strange demon.” The thought of Faris cooking food for me was like trying to imagine a tiger with an apron and a spatula over a stove.

  As if on cue, my stomach growled, sounding just like the roar of a little tiger in my belly.

  Hauling my legs over my bed, I reached over to my bedside table and picked up my phone. The screen flashed with the numbers 2:35 p.m. The tiny phone icon displayed eight missed calls. All from Logan.

  Though it did soften my mood a little, I was still angry with him. I pushed all thoughts of the angel-born away and stored them for later. I had more pressing things to think about.

  After a long, hot shower, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a black cami under a long-sleeved, black cotton shirt. Feeling ravenous, I went downstairs in search of my omelet, my long damp hair swaying against
my back.

  The hallway was warm, smelling of cooking and brewing beans. Yum.

  “That’s not how you do an omelet,” I heard my grandfather argue as I walked into the kitchen.

  My grandfather stood next to the stove with his hands on his hips. His white hair was parted off to the left, and his face had twisted, looking crazed in his new forest green bathrobe, a gift from Charlotte.

  “Step away, Gordon. This isn’t my first omelet, old man.” Faris whipped the contents of something in a small bowl. The soft sound of a metal whisk thumping the sides of the ceramic bowl brought my gaze to him. He looked odd standing in my kitchen making me food dressed in his usual, perfectly pressed black pants and matching shirt. And at the same time, he looked strangely normal and right, as though making omelets was second nature to him.

  Faris whisked away like a professional cook, like he’d done this thousands of times before. When he finished whisking, he poured the contents into a hot frying pan, causing them to sizzle as they hit the iron bottom.

  My grandfather leaned over the pan. “That’s too much butter. Are you trying to clog her arteries? Move over. Let me do it.”

  Oh. Crap.

  “You try and stop me, old witch,” threatened Faris, a red spatula in his hand as he waved it at my grandfather. “If you think I won’t use this, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  My grandfather made a face. “Bite me, demon.”

  Cauldron help me.

  “That’s enough, children,” I said as I came around the kitchen island and made a beeline for the coffee maker. “It’s too early for this.”

  “Nonsense.” My grandfather turned and looked at me. “It’s half past two in the afternoon. You’ve practically slept the day away.”

  “Yeah, well, I had a busy night.” I grabbed a mug and poured myself some coffee. I took in the scent of the beans. The coffee smelled like heaven as I took a sip. My taste buds exploded around the smooth, bitter flavor, savoring the beans. “Mmm. Good coffee.” I took another, forgetting for a moment where I was when it slipped down, easing my slight headache and relaxing my muscles.

  With my mug in one hand, I grabbed one of the kitchen island stools with the other and sat down.

  My grandfather frowned. “What kind of busy? Good busy or bad busy?”

  I took a sip of coffee and eyed him over it. “Bad busy.” I recounted finding Lars’s body and the discovery of this new human hate group, the Extreme Anti-magic Movement. “Have you ever heard of them?”

  “No,” answered my grandfather, his eyes on Faris as the demon expertly flipped my omelet. “I’ve heard of the Sacred Crusaders and the Holy Defense League. Both are human extremist groups that hate the paranormal. But that was in the forties and the late seventies. All dead now.” Frustrated, my grandfather turned around and slumped his thin arms on the counter, seemingly giving up on the prospect of showing Faris how to make an omelet. “Every so many years, a group of human haters always pops into existence. It’s inevitable. There will always be a group of haters while a small percentage of humans continue to be born with the ability to see the supernatural. They fear what they don’t understand. They see what’s around them but refuse to learn about it, refuse to reach out to the paranormal committees. Eventually, their fear brews into hate. And then you’ll have a new group. The Gray Council usually has tabs on these human hate groups.”

  “They still do,” I answered, remembering Irva’s patronizing attitude on the matter. My nose was suddenly assaulted by the delicious smells of sizzling butter. I was so hungry I might even have to lick my plate. “Irva—don’t have a last name for her—is Sarek’s replacement. The Council member we found dead in the vault.” I leaned forward, watching Faris sprinkle some herbs in the pan. He did look like he knew what he was doing. When I looked back at my grandfather, he was watching me. “I don’t think she likes me very much.”

  My grandfather’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What did you do?”

  My mouth fell open as Faris snorted, looking over the frying pan. I tried to put my face together in what I hoped was an innocent look. “Me? I didn’t do anything. She just hates me. I don’t know why. She just does.”

  My grandfather crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you do, Samantha?”

  I put my coffee mug to my lips and took a sip. “Nothing.”

  “Samantha?”

  I shrugged, wrapping my fingers around the warm mug. “I might have called her a lying cow. But she was asking for it. Speaking to me like I should be bowing and scraping at her feet. I don’t think so.”

  My grandfather smacked his forehead with his hand. “Hopeless. Utterly hopeless. It’s that damn Beaumont blood. Hardheads. All of you.”

  “And you,” I interjected. “Gordon Beaumont.”

  My grandfather shook his head in silence. “I need a drink.” He pushed off the counter and pulled a bottle with transparent liquid from the cabinet, setting it on the counter next to an empty glass.

  I cocked a brow. “Maybe you should switch to wine for a while. That stuff’s really strong. I think you’re melting.”

  The witch popped the top and poured a generous amount of his homemade gin. “It’s perfect. Best batch I’ve brewed in years.” He put the glass to his lips, tipped his head back and took a swig.

  I frowned. “You need to be more responsible about your drinking, Gramps.”

  “I am. I won’t spill any.”

  Just freaking great.

  The old witch set his glass down and gave me a hard stare. “You can’t go around calling one of our Council members a lying cow, Samantha.”

  “I can if she is.”

  He shook his head. “And then you wonder why the Dark Witch Court has a problem assigning you new work.”

  “No, a Gray Council member lied to me. That’s why we have a problem.”

  My grandfather waved his hand at me. “Semantics. If you can’t follow orders, if you can’t respect the chain of command, how do you expect to get further in your career?”

  “I don’t work for the Gray Council.”

  “Samantha,” said my grandfather. “Who do you think the Dark Witch Court listens to? We all have to follow the rules. You don’t have to like them. But you do need to abide by them.”

  “Not if Irva gives them,” I said, my anger bubbling to the surface as I recalled the way she was undressing Logan with her eyes.

  “Young and ambitious,” said my grandfather. “You need to be extra careful around her.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know about young. But you’ve got the ambitious part right. She’s not going to make anything easy.”

  “Don’t forget Raynor,” said Faris as he turned around with a plate in his hand, a steaming omelet on it. He set the plate before me and placed a fork and knife next to it. And then he stood back, an expectant expression on his face, waiting for me to take a bite.

  My grandfather cursed, looking like he’d just swallowed a fly. “Raynor? That pompous brute. He’s working the case with you?”

  “Not with me. But he is working the same case.” I picked up my fork, tore into the omelet, and took a bite. “Oh my god, this is good,” I said around my full mouth and then swallowed.

  Faris gave my grandfather a winning look. Seemingly satisfied at my grandfather’s sour expression, he pulled out a stool and sat next to me. The smile quirking his lips was at my grandfather’s expense.

  My grandfather grumbled softly. “Tell me something. Why would the Court put two witches on the same case?”

  “Because some of the members don’t think that I can handle it,” I answered. A hint of worry crossed his expression. “I just hate that he knows more than me,” I said. Dread and anticipation tightened my gut until I felt my omelet threatening to rise in my throat. “If he solves this case before me, I’m done. This is my last chance. I’m just as capable as Raynor. I know I can do this.”

  “And you’re so much better looking,” said Faris.

  “Thanks.” I e
xhaled. “I’d be willing to bet he knows about the book.”

  “If you want to make him talk, I can make it happen,” encouraged Faris. “If you want information from him,” said the mid-demon as he laced his fingers on the counter, “just leave it to me. I have my ways.”

  “I’m sure you do. But you can’t touch him, Faris. And witches are held accountable for all actions caused by a demon familiar. Even then, I have no idea where Raynor is or where he lives. Running around the city trying to find him is a waste of valuable time. He might know about the book, or he might just be pretending to annoy me. I can’t be sure.”

  “What book?” asked my grandfather.

  “The book the EAM crew stole from the vault,” I explained. “The book Irva doesn’t want me to know about. Seems like the Gray Council doesn’t want anyone to know they were keeping this book in one of their precious vaults. If I knew which book they took, I’d be that much closer to figuring out what they were after. I might even solve the case before Raynor.” And then I could shove it in Tran’s face and keep my job.

  “Ask your aunt,” came my grandfather’s voice.

  I whipped my head around and closed my jaw when I realized it was hanging open. “Did I just hear you right? Did you just say… ask my aunt?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  I sat up straighter, my heart thrashing with excitement. “My Aunt Evanora? The one you hate with all your witch being? The one you despise and want to boil in your cauldron?”

  “The very same.”

  I leaned over the counter and touched his forehead.

  My grandfather made a face and moved back. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking to see if you have a fever,” I answered, making Faris laugh. My grandfather’s and my aunt’s rivalry was notorious in our community. The two were always at each other’s throats. They hated each other. I never knew why, and I knew better than to ask. I just figured it was none of my business and was likely something that had happened way before I was born. The only thing these two had in common was their open hatred for each other.

  “I don’t have a fever,” grumbled my grandfather. “It just so happens, I know for a fact that your beloved Aunt Evanora has been friends with one of the witches on the Gray Council for years. If there’s a secret book in there they want to keep hidden, you can bet that wrinkly old arse knows about it.” He finished with a smug smile directed at Faris.