At that moment, the witch pulled the curtain aside and stepped back into the room. She was carrying something in her thin fist and, as she sat down, she slid it across the table toward Par with a clatter.
“A necklace?” Par asked, picking it up gingerly, the tarnished silver chain dangling from her fingers. She turned the unadorned black onyx pendant over, rubbing her thumb over the dull, worn stone.
“Wear it,” the witch instructed. “Don’t take it off. The more it gets to know you, the better it will work.”
“Gets to know me?” Par asked.
The witch nodded. “Just like a good pair of denims, dear. The longer you wear them, the better they look. Right?”
Skeptical, Par agreed. “Right.”
“If you ever feel you’re in danger, take it off. He will know,” the witch said.
Par nodded, unhooking the clasp, and started to put it around her neck.
“No,” Naomi snapped, and then glanced at Jesse. “You have to put it on for the binding to work.”
With a shy look, Par handed him the charm and then held her hair up, waiting. Standing, he walked behind her and carefully looped it around her throat. The moment he connected the clasp, a warm and not unpleasant current of energy tingled through him, down to his very toes, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Par must have felt it too because she gasped softly, touching the stone, and then looked up at him. The pendant’s magic was a tensile, almost tangible thing between them, and he found it strangely comforting.
He looked up at the witch, who was watching them closely. “Is it done?” he demanded.
She inclined her head. “It is.”
Nodding, he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
A thin brow rose, but she acknowledged the praise with a smile. “Certainly.”
“The antisummoning charms?” Felix asked.
“Oh, yes.” She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out two small objects. Handing one first to Felix and then to Jesse. “Here.”
Rings. Jesse studied the thin, scuffed silver band. “This will block the signal?”
“It will once activated,” she confirmed.
He looked up at her. “How do we activate them?”
“You need something of his to bind to it. Blood would be the most likely choice.”
Felix held his up so it glinted in the sunlight. “Doubt he’s going to open a vein for us.”
She smiled. “He doesn’t need to. Your veins will do just fine. His blood runs in them, after all.”
Jesse scowled at the reminder. She was right. No matter how far away they were from their sire, Patrick would always be there. “What do we do?”
“Cut. The magic will do the rest.”
He glanced over at Felix, who was already getting out his knife. Jesse’s mouth thinned in resignation as he did the same. The moment the drop of blood connected with the ring, it absorbed into the tarnished metal with a hiss, a faint tendril of steam wafting into the air.
“Enough?” Jesse asked the witch.
“Enough,” she confirmed.
Closing his knife and returning it to his pocket, he slid the ring onto his middle finger. Magic sparkled up his arm all the way to his heart where it burrowed inside with a slight stinging sensation.
She nodded as if she knew. “It is done.”
Though uncomfortable with her having any kind of potential connection to such a vital organ, he settled back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
She shifted her gaze to Par. “Now who will be paying?”
She opened her mouth, but Jesse spoke first. “I will. Only me.”
Faint disappointment flickered on the witch’s face, but she nodded and stood, turning to the counter behind her and banging her palm against an old fashioned brass service bell, the ding echoing around the room. Her shout was shrill and demanding. “Boys!”
Jesse looked at Par. “I want you to go outside with Felix. I’ll be out shortly.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why? Let’s just pay her and leave.” She started to reach into her pocket. “I brought what money I have.”
He grabbed her wrist. “She doesn’t want money.”
“What does she want?”
“Probably blood,” he admitted. Among other things, no doubt.
“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t let you do that.”
“It’s my decision.”
Color filled her cheeks, and she started to take off the necklace. “It’s not right.”
He stopped her, pulling her hands back down. “Listen to me,” he said. “Do you remember what I told you last night?”
She looked away, her mouth set into a stubborn line. He took her by the chin and forced her to look at him. He kept his voice low. “I told you there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. This here—” He gestured toward the room. “—this is nothing compared to the lengths I’m willing to go.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced. “Are they going to hurt you?”
“No.” To his knowledge, this was a relatively minor spell and the price would reflect that. “I promise.”
She closed her eyes and gave the briefest of nods. “Okay. But I’m staying. I can handle it.”
Jesse tried glaring her into submission but gave in with a sigh when she didn’t budge. “Fine,” he said.
At that moment, the sons walked in the room. First the one they’d already seen and right behind him, his lookalike. As in, identical twins. The only difference was their clothing. The newest addition wore a pair of stained navy blue mechanic’s coveralls that bore a white name tag embroidered with the name Dave. They waited silently while their mother rummaged through cabinets, bringing down assorted glass jars.
“Get the syringe and vials,” she said without looking at them.
They moved immediately, walking down to the far end of the kitchen, one opening a drawer and the other bending to open a cabinet. Within a few minutes, there was a variety of paraphernalia laid out on the table. They worked in silence, neatly arranging a heavy pair of scissors, gauze, a tourniquet, fingernail clippers, and a plastic rack of blood collection tubes that clinked together as they were set down.
Jesse glanced at Par. She was watching the whole thing with a grim expression, absently playing with the pendant she now wore. The look on his brother’s face wasn’t much better. Felix’s black brows were drawn together and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. Felix might trust the witch, but even he wasn’t fond of this part.
“Gabriel,” the witch said, grabbing one of the jars and the scissors and walking around the table toward him. “Get ten vials. Michael, you can get the nails when he’s done.”
Coming to stand beside Jesse, she unscrewed the jar’s metal lid and set it on the table. He stiffened as she then took a lock of hair by his ear and quickly snipped it off, dropping it into the jar. Without a word, the witch retrieved the lid and screwed it on again before walking back to the counter to scribble something on the jar with a black marker.
Once his mother was finished, Gabriel came around and crouched beside Jesse, his boots squeaking on the linoleum. He said nothing but stared at Jesse as if waiting on something. The sickly-sweet smell of unwashed skin wafted up to his nose.
The witch glanced over in the silence. “Your shirt sleeve.”
Keeping an eye on Gabriel, Jesse unbuttoned the cuff, rolled it up past his elbow, and stuck his arm out, making a fist. The silent man took it and adeptly slipped the tourniquet over Jesse’s elbow and pulled it tight, tapping on his vein with two fingers. Satisfied, he unwrapped the syringe and inserted one of the slender glass tubes into it.
“Isn’t he going to clean it first?” Par asked, nervousness seeping into her voice.
“No need,” Jesse said, watching as the needle sank into his skin, the vein was hit, and blood shot into the vial. It didn’t take long for it to fill. When it did, it was removed and placed into the rack with a clink, and a fresh one was slid
up into the plastic housing. And so on. By the time the tenth was inserted, he was growing lightheaded. Something he didn’t appreciate. Being compromised even in the slightest made him uneasy.
“Almost done,” Par said hopefully, squeezing his free hand.
When it was about three-quarters of the way full, Gabriel snapped the tourniquet loose and set it on the table. Jesse released his fist as the needle was pulled out and a small square of gauze was quickly placed over the site and taped. The whole thing was over and done in under five minutes.
As soon as the supplies and the full vials were cleared away, Michael stepped up with the fingernail clippers and an empty glass jar and waited with that empty stare. Jesse complied, holding his hand out with a frown. But this process, just like the one before it, was professional and efficient. The big man neatly trimmed each of the nails on Jesse’s left hand and then his right. And like his twin, Michael took his supplies and walked away when finished. Jesse turned to Par while he rolled his sleeve back down and buttoned the cuff.
“You okay?” he asked her quietly.
She nodded and tried to smile.
He glanced at the witch and her sons, who were sorting and labeling the haul. “Are we done?”
The witch glanced over her shoulder at him, her stringy gray hair hanging in her eyes. “You’re done.”
Jesse, Parsley, and Felix pushed their chairs back and stood.
“Naomi,” Felix said, stretching his back, “pleasure doing business with you, as always.”
She spared him a nod and then went back to her work, the transaction officially concluded.
“Let’s go.” Jesse took Par’s hand and led her from the house, Felix bringing up the rear. Outside once again, the midday sunlight was glaring compared to the dim, cluttered confines of the kitchen, and Jesse held his hand up to shield his eyes as they walked to the car. By the time they reached it and climbed inside, his skin had started to tingle from the UV exposure. He was sensitive to the sun under normal circumstances, but he was especially susceptible at the moment.
As he started the car and Par buckled in, she looked over at him. “Do you think it worked? The spell?”
“It worked,” Felix said from the back.
Jesse glanced in the rear-view at him as he made a circle and started out the drive. “Thanks for setting this up.”
“Anything you need.” Felix met his gaze for a brief moment and then resumed looking out the window.
Par turned to face Jesse, the sunlight catching the coppery strands in her hair. He wanted his fingers in it. “What will they do with what they took?” she asked.
He navigated the ruts in the driveway with one hand and reached for hers with his other. “Sell it most likely. Or use it in spells.”
“So it’s valuable,” she murmured, looking down at her own fingernails as if trying to understand. “The hair, the nails, all of it.”
“Tremendously,” Felix said, leaning forward. “And yours are too.”
Her eyes widened. “Mine? How?”
He shrugged. “Same reason Patrick wants your blood. Supernatural beings have supernatural parts. Parts that are worth a lot of money in certain circles.”
“Supernatural beings,” she repeated quietly.
Felix leaned back with a grin. “Makes you rethink of all those haircuts and scraped knees over the years, doesn’t it?”
As he pulled up to the end of the driveway, Jesse looked over his shoulder at his brother. “You riding with us or going?”
“Going,” he said, preparing to get out. Pausing with his hand on the back of Par’s seat, he met Jesse’s gaze. “I’ll be back as soon as I find out something.”
Jesse nodded as he remembered what they’d talked about this morning while Par had still been asleep.
As she raised her seat so Felix could get out, Jesse turned back to gaze out the windshield, his fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel. What he wanted to know could potentially be the answer to keeping her safe forever. It could also potentially destroy him.
In more ways than one.
20
Little Paybacks & Sharp Teeth
“I still can’t believe I watched your brother change into a crow an hour ago,” I said, holding a mug of fragrant tea between both hands. The image would forever be burned into my memory.
Jesse bent to retrieve a copper-bottomed pot from the cabinet below the marble island. As he filled it with water and set it to boil, he glanced at me. “It’s something.”
I made a sound into my tea, breathing in the steam that wafted up. “It sure is.”
“I have a surprise for you,” he said, mysterious as he walked to the fridge and pulled out some milk and butter.
Resting my elbows and the mug on the island, I watched him with a smile. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” He set the ingredients down. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Always.” I tried peering into the paper grocery bag on the counter between us.
He frowned and pulled it out of my reach. Reaching into the bag, he asked, “Are you ready?”
I nodded, more excited about his excitement than whatever was actually in there.
With a flourish, he pulled out . . . two boxes of macaroni and cheese.
I started to laugh until I saw the expression on his face. He was serious. This was his surprise. Clearing my throat, I smiled and said, “It’s macaroni.”
He took the boxes and set about emptying the yellow elbows into the boiling water on the stove. “That’s right. Your favorite.”
My brows jumped. “It is?”
“Well, yeah.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “When Felix went to get your stuff, I told him to see what you liked. Something special. He found a dozen boxes of this in your cabinet.”
That much was true. I’d cleaned out the clearance bin that day at Bickels’ when they’d been on clearance for ten cents. Ramen noodles, pork and beans, and macaroni and cheese made up the majority of the poor girl’s diet. At least this poor girl. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d eaten so much of the powdered orange stuff that I felt a mild wave of nausea just looking at it.
It was still the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.
“You’re right,” I said, clearing my throat and smiling. “My favorite.”
Once he adjusted the flame under the pot, he walked over and leaned across the island. “Kiss me.”
I obeyed his command and met him in the middle. His fingers went into my hair as he pressed our lips together, kissing me once, twice, and a third time. When I was breathless, he pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against mine. “I like making you happy.”
I closed my eyes and placed my hand on the side of his face. “Then never leave me.”
As my own words struck a very real fear in me, my heart skipped a beat. Somewhere along the line, I’d started to believe that we were forever. The witch’s warning from earlier today rang in my ears.
Never say never, dear.
“Never,” he whispered and kissed me again before pulling away.
I slowly sat back on my stool and regarded him, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut. As he began measuring the milk and butter, I rested my chin on my hands and laughed quietly.
Pausing in the middle of ripping open a packet of powdered cheese, he looked over at me. “What?”
“You’d make a great housewife,” I said. “Laundry. Cooking. You’re the whole package.”
“Am I.”
“Oh, yes.” I tilted my head to the side and measured him. “All you need is an apron.”
“You’re going to pay for that,” he warned, a mischievous air about him. Before I could react, he emptied the contents of the envelope into his hand and tossed it at me.
I squealed and shielded my face as an orange cloud of powdered cheese rained down. Coughing and sputtering and tasting the stuff, I threw my hands up in surrender. “I take it back!” I laughed. “I take it back.”
&nbs
p; He laughed too, wearing a justified grin as he went to remove the boiling pot from the stove. “You’re lucky I have more.”
I had to suppress a groan. How many more boxes did he have? Visions of glistening orange mountains of fortified pasta for every meal threatened to give me nightmares. Licking the powder from my lips, I looked down at myself.
“You know,” I said quietly, dusting off the front of my sweater. “I think I’m going to need a shower now.”
He glanced over at me, pausing as he stirred in the milk, butter, pasta, and cheese mixture.
I met his gaze.
He held it a moment and then finished stirring.
“Do you know what’s great about ovens these days?” he asked as he opened the door and slid the pot inside.
“What?”
Closing the door and tapping some buttons on the digital screen, he said, “They have a warming option.”
My lips quirked. “Do they?”
He came around the edge of the island and spun my barstool around so I faced him. I gasped, my heart skipping a beat.
“Yes,” he said, stepping in between my legs and leaning down to kiss me. “It keeps the food hot while you go do other things.”
I kissed him back and repeated, “Other things.”
With a growl, he scooped me off the stool by the thighs, forcing me to put my legs around his waist.
“Other things,” he confirmed against my lips.
Before I’d even realized we’d left the kitchen, he was carrying me across the floor of Felix’s room. Once inside the bathroom, he broke the kiss to put me down and pull my cheese-dusted sweater over my head, tossing it aside. I went to work on the buttons of his shirt, looking up at him as I leaned in to gingerly kiss the areas of his chest I exposed with each one. His jaw tightened as he watched me, and he touched my hair.
“How can you be so beautiful?” he asked softly.
I crouched and kissed the spot right above his jeans as I undid the last button. “How can you?”
First Fruits Page 20
