by Vivi Andrews
“How do you want me?”
His voice snapped her out of her pointless musings. She could worry about what she felt about him later; right now it was time to start the process of saving his ass. “You and Chase will stand here. As soon as he completes the find, the witches will pull the location from him and do the ritual to fetch the box containing your heart into this box.” She waved at the crate at her feet.
Prometheus frowned, squinting at the plywood box. She felt his power ripple out and over it. “What is it? Beyond some kind of cloaked grounding net?”
“It’s ingenious,” the witch spokeswoman Andrea bragged from her place in the circle. “The cloaking layer you noticed will simultaneously conceal it from the devil you’re stealing from and convince her it hasn’t been moved by projecting a false location. The grounding net will keep it from vanishing on us and keep the contents of the box intact—as long as you don’t open it.”
It had better do all that, for what they were paying for it.
“What happens if I open it?” asked Prometheus, who had probably never met a Pandora ’s Box he didn’t open.
“We aren’t entirely sure,” Andrea admitted. “The magic works along the same principles as Shrodinger’s Cat. As long as you don’t look inside, it’s both in there and not in there, but as soon as you open it, it’s only one or the other and we don’t know which way it will go. Cursed vessels aren’t exactly predictable. This was the only way we could think of to trick its natural magic.”
“Sounds foolproof to me,” Chase said, slapping Prometheus on the back. “Shall we do this?”
“I’ll get out of the way.” Karma retreated to stand next to Brittany, who was there for good luck, Mia, who was there for research, and Jo, who was there for the hell of it. The witches clasped hands and began to chant. The hair on Karma’s arms stood up as the power in the room shifted and coalesced. She could almost see it sparking in the air—electricity made visible and given a will of its own like miniature fireflies.
“Try to think about why you want your heart back.” Chase clasped Prometheus’s bare arm.
The warlock nodded. He met her eyes across the expanse of the circle and arched a cocky brow, but she could feel the tension radiating off him as distinctly as the magic in the air. He didn’t want anyone to know it, but he wanted this badly. That was good, because Chase’s ability would only zero in on the one thing the subject wanted most in the moment of the find.
“Here we go,” Chase said.
The witches’ chanting upped in volume. Karma held her breath.
And nothing happened.
Chase coughed and released Prometheus, shaking his hand like it stung. His lips twitched and he flicked a glance over to where Karma was standing with Mia. “Remember you need to focus on wanting the box.” He flexed his fingers and reached for Prometheus again. “Really focus.”
The witches’ chanting didn’t even have time to get louder this time. As soon as Chase’s skin brushed Prometheus’s, he said, “Got it.”
The energy that had been building snapped in, contracting on Chase and then flinging out through the ceiling like an arrow shot from a bow. The chanting reached a frantic pitch, the witches swaying under the force of the power, their circle closed by white-knuckled grips. The magic rocketed back, slamming into the box with enough force to make it shudder. The witches’ circle broke, the coven falling to sprawl on the floor, and Prometheus staggered back under the power blast, one hand gripping his chest. Karma swayed, her vision going momentarily black, while the others in the room remained unmoved—their power operating on such a different spectrum that they were unaffected.
In the sudden silence left when the chanting cut off abruptly, Jo’s voice sounded unnaturally loud. “Well? Did it work?”
They all looked to the crate. Prometheus’s black gaze locked on Karma, his face unnaturally pale, his usual laughing expression blank and sober.
Then she heard it, more a hum along her magical senses than in any audible way, but there, distinctly, subtly there.
The distant, echoing beating of a heart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Lovechild of Xena and Thor
“How long have you been hooking up with Prometheus?”
“You’re banging Prometheus?” Jo gasped. “And you didn’t tell me? Naughty, naughty Karma.”
Karma shushed Chase and Jo, shutting the door of her office and glowering at the pair of them. Many of the witches—notorious gossips, every last one—were still in the lobby, gathering their things and migrating slowly out to the parking lot under Brittany’s direction. Mia had already left to return to her lab and process Prometheus’s blood work. The warlock himself was sprawled on the waiting area couch, staring at the box like it might spring open and melt his face off at any second.
None of them needed to hear Chase and Jo’s speculations on the state of her love life.
“Would you be quiet? I am not hooking up with Prometheus.”
Chase’s eyebrows shot up. “Does he know that?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I only picked up a few flashes, but when people fantasize about stuff they want in a vague haven’t-had-it-yet way, the images don’t tend to be quite that sharp and, uh, graphic.”
Karma’s face heated. “I’m sure he just has a very precise imagination.”
Jo sighed. “You really aren’t hooking up?”
“No.” Her blush intensified at the lie and she added, “I don’t know.”
“You are!” Jo crowed. “I love it. He’s so…scary. And you’re scary. Dude, it’s like if Xena hooked up with Thor. Your kids are gonna be leaping tall buildings from the cradle.”
“We aren’t having kids. We aren’t even dating. It’s nothing, okay? It’s…casual.”
Chase and Jo turned identical expressions of disbelief on her.
“What? I can do casual.” Which was a complete lie. She didn’t know the first thing about casual. Or serious, for that matter. She didn’t really do relationships—and she didn’t have the first idea what she was doing with Prometheus. She hated not knowing where she stood with him. She wasn’t even sure where she wanted to stand. She hadn’t expected to like him on any level, much less find herself attracted to him and respecting him. Karma closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. She still felt unresolved. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted.
Jo nodded sagely. “Admitting you have a problem is the first step.”
Karma glared at her. “What is this, the twelve-step program for dating?”
“I thought you weren’t dating.”
“We aren’t. We’re just… Hell, I don’t know.”
Chase grinned. “Just remember to pace yourself. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”
“But a faint heart never a true love knows,” Jo intoned with mock solemnity. “Go for it. Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” Chase added.
“The course of true love gathers no moss,” Jo chirped helpfully.
Karma glared at the pair of them. “You two are enjoying this far too much.”
“Can you blame us?”
“It isn’t every day the mighty Karma allows us puny mortals to see her human side.”
“You’re pains in my very human ass. Get out, both of you.”
They were laughing, completely unrepentant, as they filed obediently toward the door. It was habit for Karma to stay behind, to take a few minutes to herself to meditate and clear her head, but she realized belatedly that she didn’t need it. She didn’t feel the visions battering at her control. She actually felt fine.
“Karma?” Jo hovered with a hand on the door, Chase already gone.
“Yes, Jo?”
“I know we were giving you a hard time, but I meant what I said. I think you should go for it. You need someone to remind you that you are more than just Superwoman for all of us. I
f he can do that, jump on him and don’t let him up until he agrees with you. If anyone can reform that bad boy, it’s you.”
“Thanks for the thought, Jo, but I think I’ll leave reformation to some other lucky girl.”
The ghost exterminator grinned. “In that case, enjoy the hell out of the bad for as long as you can.”
The door snicked shut behind her.
Enjoy the hell out of the bad. She’d heard worse plans.
Prometheus couldn’t stop staring at the box. It was freaking him the fuck out. His heart was in there. Inside two layers of impenetrable magic, but in there. That just wasn’t natural. Strangely he’d never felt that not having a heart was unnatural, but looking at the box holding the box that held his heart—that was unnatural as hell.
He could feel it in there. Hear it beating. And that most definitely wasn’t natural.
The witches were gone. Jo and Chase had left the building. Brittany was at her desk, answering phones with an excited little chirrup. Karma was hiding in her office. Everything at Karmic was back to normal—except for the fact that there was a giant plywood crate in the middle of the lobby which happened to contain a beating heart. His beating heart. There was no normal there.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the box. He was vaguely aware of Brittany saying goodbye to him and the rest of the office staff heading home for the day. Then an icy glass was pressed into his hand.
“Drink,” Karma commanded as she sank down on the lobby sofa beside him.
The vodka went down smooth. She refilled his glass without comment, pouring the last of the bespelled Stoli into it, but Prometheus couldn’t be bothered to care that he was drinking trust me juice. Karma clinked her glass against his and they sat in silence, contemplating the box and sipping vodka.
Some time later, when the glasses were empty, Karma murmured without taking her eyes off the box, “You okay?”
“I’m always okay.”
She nodded and the silence wrapped around them again. He didn’t know if it was the vodka or Karma, but his panic—if that’s what it had been—was abating. She was easy to be with—and the Stoli didn’t hurt either.
“Ugly thing, isn’t it?” he said at length, indicating the crate with his glass.
Karma’s lips twitched. “Not exactly the piece I would have selected as a stylistic center of the room,” she agreed dryly.
“Can we move it?”
“The witches say as long as we don’t open it, we can do whatever we want with it.”
Prometheus nudged it with his foot. It slid easily across the carpet. Not heavy then. It would be awkward but he could lift it. “Where do you want to put it?”
“There’s space in the Bat Cave. It would be safe there.”
“Good idea.” His heart would be safe with Karma. Something about the thought struck him as funny, but he couldn’t dredge up the enthusiasm for more than a weak smile. Not with the box staring back at him.
“You know what I’ve been wondering? Why your heart? I’ve never heard of that being something devils like to bargain for.”
“I’d just had my heart broken when I made the deal. Couldn’t imagine that I would ever miss the damn thing.” He’d never admitted that to anyone, but the words just flowed out. If she’d been looking at him, he didn’t think he would have been able to answer, even with the vodka.
Karma was quiet for a long moment beside him, then, “What was she like?”
He shrugged. “Just a girl. Honestly I barely remember her.” That was true enough. But he remembered how he’d felt. How, for the first time in his life, he’d let himself want a home. How badly he’d wanted it to be her. He remembered her laugh. How she’d laughed when he’d proposed. Don’t be ridiculous, Prometheus. We’re kids. You didn’t think this was serious, did you?
So he’d stopped taking love seriously. And he’d found a way to get rid of his heart and ensure he never felt that awful, wrenching powerlessness again.
“Was it worth it?” Karma turned her head, looking at him, and Prometheus lurched to his feet.
“Sure. Who wouldn’t want to be all-powerful? I’m living proof you don’t really need a heart.” He rounded the crate, looking for likely handholds. “Besides, the she-devil was hot. Perfect tonic for a broken heart.”
Karma’s gaze flicked downward. “Ah. I hadn’t realized your relationship went further than a business transaction.”
He shrugged. “I was nineteen and she was made for sex. What was I supposed to do?” When Karma didn’t answer, he bent and hefted the crate into his arms. “You wanna get the door?”
For a second he thought she might say something biting, but whatever it was that rose to the tip of her tongue, she swallowed it back and rose, poised as always. “Certainly. I can’t have you chipping the doorframe as you try to wrangle that thing.”
There was no doorframe chipping, though it was a tight fit on the elevator. Prometheus set the crate in her living room space, where it looked strangely appropriate amid the spare elegance of the room’s style. They both stared at it, listening to the eerily audible thumping of his heart, then Karma shifted away from him. “I’ll walk you out.”
The elevator ride back up was as silent as the ride down had been. When the doors opened, Karma exited first, making a beeline for the doors. He’d clearly said something to upset her, but she was tucking it up behind her layers of restraint. He liked it better when she was screaming at him.
He caught up to her halfway across the lobby. “Karma.” He grabbed her upper arm and she stopped, turning slowly. When she was facing him, she pressed a palm flat to his chest, right over where his heart ought to beat. He’d never been more aware of the silence of his own pulse.
“You’ll have it back soon. Who knows, maybe you’ll like it.”
Soon had to be one of the scariest damn words on the planet. Either he’d have his heart back, or he’d be dead. Not exactly an ultimatum he was eager to see finalized.
“Deuma knows we’re up to something,” he heard himself confess, before the intent to tell her had even finalized in his brain. Damn vodka.
“How do you—”
“She came to see me. At my shop. She mentioned you.” Worth three of you… “I think she’d like to work out a renegotiation.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Original deals with devils are dangerous enough. Renegotiations are usually fatal.”
“So we stick to our original plan. The witches assure us the box is unchanged in any way that Deuma would be able to pick up on. She shouldn’t be able to sense that we’ve done anything and Rodriguez is digging into her history, so we’ll have every advantage we can muster when we summon her. We’ll be prepared for whatever she throws at us.”
Her reassurance made the uneasiness churn even more violently in his gut. “There’s no hurry. I promised Mia she could examine me some more. Tell Rodriguez to take all the time he needs. I wanna make sure we do this right.”
Karma pressed her hand harder against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re not going to let it fail.”
But it wasn’t only failure he was afraid of now. Now Karma was a part of things and he didn’t want to think about her getting hurt because of him.
Or her people. They’d gone above and beyond today, and they would go further. For him. As they would for anyone they’d claimed as part of their piecemeal family. They were what family should be but had never been for him. He wasn’t a part of their family, not really one of them, but they’d absorbed him in a way—like a step-sibling, an awkward uncle…or a foster kid. It was unnerving. More so because part of him liked it.
He’d never been confused before Karma, but she’d spun his world around so he wasn’t sure which direction was up anymore. He’d never cared about good or bad, but he’d always known what he wanted. Now the lines of his own desires were blurred by distinctions that weren’t in his vocabulary. The only clear thing was the woman in front of him—and the f
act that she was coming to mean far too much to a man who made a point never to need anyone.
He studied her face, close enough to kiss, obviously willing—an open invitation in her eyes. Her lips were full—each of her features so perfectly refined. She was so striking, so beautiful her tawny skin seemed to glow with it. It would be easy to claim her as his own, and he was a greedy man by nature. Covetous. And she so clearly wanted to be claimed.
“I should go.”
Karma dropped her gaze. “Right.” Her hand fell away.
His hand didn’t seem to be getting the message from his brain that he was supposed to let her go. Slippery silk covered smooth skin beneath his fingers. It would be so easy to tip their relationship—whatever the hell it was—into something more. Something hot and sweet and maybe a little rough. Just for tonight. It didn’t have to mean anything.
She’s worth three of you. The memory of the words echoed in his brain. Their meaning shifted, taunting. He dropped his hold on her arm. Karma deserved better than what a man like him could offer. She deserved all the bullshit he’d always disdained. The honor and poetry. And for once he was feeling noble enough to want to protect her—from himself.
“Good night, Karma.”
The asphalt gleamed wetly in the parking lot as he approached his bike. The sky roiled with layers of ominous clouds, so dark it could have been midnight rather than six. Wind made the flags on the building across the street twist and snap as erratic spits of rain sprayed the roads. It was gearing up to be a helluva tempest. Maybe my last.
He grimaced as the macabre thought hit him. He’d always loved storms. Even as a kid, he’d never been afraid of thunder and lightning—giving his foster moms (the ones who actually gave a damn) fits as he climbed up into trees or onto the roof to stare up into teeth of the angry sky, coming in dripping wet and exhilarated.
He was far from that exhilaration now. His chest felt hollow, empty for the first time, and as close as they were to success, all he felt was death sliding an icy hand up his spine. He’d known he would drop dead when his contract with Deuma was complete, but he’d never felt his mortality the way he did now.
