Alan scoffed. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
Chase sucked in a breath to respond, but Luke’s hand landed squarely on his shoulder, a silent order to end it. He pried loose his fists and released his hold on the man, taking a step back to surrender control to the alpha.
Luke straightened to his full height and looked down at the witch. “Actions always have consequences. Tread carefully.”
“Yeah.” Alan dusted off his jacket and narrowed his eyes at Chase before strutting out of the alley.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Chase grumbled. “Witches can’t be trusted. None of them.”
Luke crossed his arms. “This ends now.”
“I just wanted to scare him. I know how it’s going to end. He’ll move on to the next woman, and Jamie will be left with the consequences.” He glanced at the door the woman had disappeared through.
“They’re not your concern.” Luke uncrossed his arms, his eyes softening. “She’s not your sister.”
He let out a slow breath, the anger cooling to a mild burn. “I know. I got carried away. Sorry.”
Luke nodded for him to follow him out of the alley. “You need to get over your aversion to witches.”
“That won’t happen any time soon.” After everything he’d been through, it was ingrained in his soul.
“Then you’re going to have to fake it.” Luke hung a left on Ursulines and headed toward Rampart. “We need to pay a visit to the coven priestess.”
Chase stopped short. “More witches?”
“We have to find out if the mummy is a one-off thing or if we should be expecting more victims.”
Chase grumbled under his breath, but he followed the alpha to the coven house on the outskirts of the Quarter. Built in the 1800s, the three-story brick building once housed one of the most influential families of the nineteenth century. The wrought-iron galleries adorning the second and third floors overflowed with ferns and ivies and every other kind of plant imaginable. What was it about witches and nature? They could grow sunflowers in a frozen tundra if they had the mind to. Chase could barely keep the aloe vera plant Bekah brought home alive.
Luke knocked three times on the door, and Chase flanked him, standing a step behind his right shoulder. The sound of boots thudding on the hardwood floor seeped from inside, and Chase tensed. Witches and werewolves weren’t mortal enemies. They had quite a bit in common if he paused to consider it. Magic in their blood, a shared affinity for the moon. Hell, some witches could even shape-shift.
But they were too powerful. With their spells, controlling the elements, the ability to bend people’s will to do their dirty work for them… A chill crept up his spine.
“Relax,” Luke muttered over his shoulder as the lock disengaged and the door swung open.
Like hell he would. His disdain for witches was purely personal, and he’d be damned if he’d ever let his guard down around one again. He’d learned his lesson. Twice.
“Can I help you?” A look of recognition flashed in the man’s blue eyes before he cut his gaze to the left.
Getting a visit from the alpha werewolf would be enough to make any supernatural being nervous. Chase crossed his arms and widened his stance, adding to the intimidation effect.
“Is Calista here?” Luke asked.
The man swallowed. “Do you have an appointment?” His voice was thin, like it was a standard question he had to ask, but he knew what the answer would be.
Luke inclined his head. “Do I need an appointment?”
“No.” He opened the door wider, motioning for them to enter. “Come in.”
Chase’s boots thudded on the floor as he stepped into the foyer, quieting as he reached a plush, green runner. A crystal chandelier hung in the entryway, casting golden light on the cream-colored walls. To the right lay a great room with a raised ceiling and polished wood floor. In the old days, the space would have been used for entertaining and could double as both a dance floor and a massive dining room, depending on the occasion. Now, it housed some kind of altar, and the overpowering scent of incense made his nose burn.
“Have a seat in here.” The man waved a hand toward a sitting room to the left. “I’ll let Calista know you’re here.”
Chase shuffled into the sitting room behind Luke and lowered himself into a straight-back chair. Oil paintings adorned the dark-wood walls, and a baby grand piano occupied the corner of the room. The extravagant coven headquarters was a far cry from the squat Irish bar the pack called home base. With its low ceilings and bare brick walls, O’Malley’s Pub would have these witches curling their lips in disdain.
What would Rain think of the bar? Or his tiny shotgun-style house for that matter? With her polished look, shiny hair, and perfect complexion, she probably came from money. Hell, she owned her own business. She wouldn’t give a second glance to a rough-around-the-edges werewolf bartender.
He scrunched his brow. Why the hell was his imagination treading down that path? He shouldn’t have given a second thought to a witch who was hiding her magic, but damn it, if he wasn’t on the fourth or fifth.
Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You okay?”
Chase blinked, banishing the image of the feisty witch from his mind. “Yeah. This place gives me the willies.”
“Maybe someone’s trying to cast a spell on you. Make you fall in love with a witch.”
The sensation of a thousand ants skittering across his back made him shiver. “Don’t even joke like that.”
“Spells affecting free will are forbidden.” A tall woman with long, dark hair and four-inch heels clicked into the sitting room. “Surely, you’re aware of that, Mr. Mason.”
Luke rose to his feet. “So is murder, but there’s a dead witch at the morgue. Not everyone follows the rules.”
Her eyes widened in shock for a split second before she composed herself. She opened her mouth to speak, but she hesitated as a pair of witches in Harrah’s uniforms sashayed to the door. “Bye, Calista,” the blonde called from the foyer. “See you tomorrow.”
Calista waved over her shoulder and turned to the werewolves. “Let’s have this meeting in my office.” She motioned for them to follow her down a hallway and through a set of oak double doors.
A heavy wooden desk sat in front of a large window overlooking the courtyard, and the witch slinked behind it to lower herself into a tan leather chair. “How do you know it’s a witch in the morgue?”
Luke sat in a chair across from the desk. “Tell her what you saw.”
Chase settled into the one next to him. “She had a tattoo under her collarbone. Trinity knot with a coven crest.”
Calista folded her hands on the desk. “Which coven?”
He huffed. “How the hell should I know?”
“No one in my coven has been reported missing.” She took a sheet of paper from a drawer and offered it to him. “Do you remember what it looked like? Can you draw it for me?”
“Sure.” He snatched a pen from the holder on the corner of her desk and leaned forward to sketch the design. The pen made a scratching sound on the paper as the crest came into shape. A trinity knot situated in a crescent moon with a string of six stars connecting the ends to form a circle.
As he finished the drawing, an honest-to-God black cat jumped on the desk and hissed before slinking across the surface. Typical. He pushed the paper toward Calista and glanced around the room, almost certain he’d find a pointy hat and a broomstick hanging on the wall.
He didn’t.
Calista shooed the cat off the desk with her hand and pressed her lips together as she gazed at the sketch. “This witch belonged to the Miami coven. Her death doesn’t concern us. Or you.”
Luke straightened his spine. “It does when the cause of death was supernatural.”
The cat jumped into the witch’s lap, and she stroked its back. “How did she die?”
Chase cringed as the image of the mummified corpse fla
shed in his mind. “Something sucked the life right out of her. Took her eye as souvenir. Any of your minions have that ability?”
Calista bristled. “That’s a weighty accusation to make.” She shifted her gaze to Luke. “You need to keep this one on a tighter leash.”
“No one’s making accusations.” Luke flashed him a warning glare. “But if you have any information, we’d appreciate your cooperation. It’s our job to protect the secrecy of supernatural beings.”
She inhaled deeply, cutting her gaze from Luke to Chase and back again. “You’re looking for an energy vampire, and no, I don’t know anyone with that power.”
Chase shook his head. “The veins contained powdered blood. If it were a vampire—”
“Not the blood-sucking kind.” She set the cat on the floor. “An energy vampire. Someone who can drain the magic and the life force from another being. Witches can develop the power by practicing the black arts, but I can assure you none of my witches would dare. We are a peaceful, goddess-worshipping coven.”
“Thank you for your time.” Luke stood, and Chase followed his lead.
Calista walked ahead of them toward the exit, her heels clicking on the wood in a melodic rhythm. She opened the door. “If I can be of any more service…”
Luke stepped through the door, but Chase paused in the threshold. “Actually, you can.”
“Oh?”
“What can you tell me about the witch who runs the bakery?”
A strange look flashed in her eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything. She doesn’t belong to the coven.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why doesn’t she belong?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that either. Have a nice day, gentlemen.” She all but slammed the door in Chase’s face.
Rain was hiding her powers and she didn’t belong to the coven. She didn’t look like the type of woman who’d drain the life from someone, but he’d learned his lesson giving witches the benefit of the doubt. Something wasn’t right in that bakery, and he planned to figure out exactly what it was.
Rain leaned her elbows on the table and held her face in her hands. “What am I going to do now? I’ll never be able to pay the rent without the werewolf wedding.”
Snow rubbed a hand across her back. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out. You put so much kindness out into the world; it’s going to come back around to you soon.”
“Sure.” Like that could happen. She hadn’t acted the slightest bit kind toward Chase. “Something tells me I’m not through making up for the bad things I’ve done.”
“Bad thing. Singular. We all make mistakes.”
“I’ll be paying for mine for the rest of my life.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she squeezed her eyes shut. Why couldn’t she have kept her temper in check? The alpha seemed to love every bite of cake he tried. But Chase…
Snow folded her hands on the table. “You have to admit, those werewolves were kinda hot.”
“They were not…” Her stomach fluttered. “Yeah, they kinda were.”
“Especially the tattooed one. What was his name?”
“Chase.” Why did her voice sound so breathy, the S stretching out into a hiss? And why did his name taste so good to say?
“That’s right.” Her sister gave her a strange look. “Dark hair, ink, smoldering eyes.”
“Mm-hmm.” His eyes did smolder, didn’t they?
“Exactly your type of guy.”
Rain sat up straight. “He is not my type. I don’t have a type. Anyway…he insulted my baking skills.”
“I don’t think he meant it.” Snow smirked.
“He meant it. He was out to get me from the moment he stepped into the bakery.”
Snow rolled her eyes. “Think about it. He knows enough about baking to taste the nutmeg in your classic vanilla-almond. You have to admit that turns you on. At least a little bit.”
She wanted to argue. To insist his sensitive palate didn’t interest her in the slightest. But she couldn’t. “Yeah, okay. You made your point, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’ll be doing the werewolf wedding after that fiasco.”
“You never know.” Snow shrugged. “Maybe the alpha will bring his mate back and let her choose. We’re the only supernatural bakery in the Quarter, and they seem like busy people.”
“Maybe.” Probably not.
The door chimed as a DHL delivery man carried a small cardboard box into the shop. Rain’s heart sprinted as he shuffled toward her. “Rain Connolly?”
“That’s me.” She plastered on a fake smile to hide her nerves.
“Sign here please.” He handed her a tablet. “My stylus broke, so you’ll have to use your finger.”
She scribbled her name on the device and wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans. “Thank you.” Now if he would leave the store so she could open the box.
He shuffled toward a display case and gazed at the bite-sized delicacies beneath the glass. Snow padded behind the counter and jerked her head at Rain, a silent order to snap out of it and try to sell the guy something.
“Are you hungry?” Rain stood and joined her sister behind the display. “We’ve got a variety of mini cakes and cookies you can snack on while you’re making deliveries.”
“Not really.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Damn. It seemed she couldn’t even make a dollar today.
“These are interesting, though. What do the symbols mean?” He nodded at Snow’s contribution to the bakery—cookies with a magic spell for clarity baked into them.
Rain gazed at the treats. They all contained the same spell, but the intent of the person eating it always focused the outcome.
“Oh, you have a discerning eye.” Snow laid on the charm thick. “We’re a witch’s bakery, you know? And you were drawn to our spellbinders. They’re magical cookies that help you realize your dreams.”
He chuckled. “Is that so?”
Snow waved her hand over the glass in a flourish. “Need help finding your dream job? This is the cookie for you.” She pointed to a green-iced cookie with a dollar sign frosted on the top. “Not doing so hot in the love department? We’ve got what you need.” She indicated the cookie with a red heart. “If you’re having trouble making a decision, this one can help.” She used a piece of tissue paper to take a cookie with a blue question mark from the tray and offered it to him. “Clarity in a cookie for the bargain price of two ninety-nine.”
He laughed unconvincingly. “If I give that heart one to the girl I like, she’ll fall in love with me?”
“Oh, no.” Rain pressed a hand to her chest and feigned offense. “Spells that hinder free will are forbidden. But if you eat it, it will help you realize if she’s really the one for you.”
“Hmm…” He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll take the question mark one.”
Snow slipped the cookie into a white paper bag and took his money. “Have a nice day.”
“You too.” He looked at the bag and shook his head before shuffling outside.
As soon as the door fell shut, Snow raced across the room and locked it. “Open it!” She scrambled back to the counter and gripped Rain’s arm. “It’s the Bauhinia, isn’t it?”
“I think so.” Her heart pounded. With a trembling hand, she grabbed a knife from a cutting board. The cool, steel handle slipped from her grasp. Like an idiot, she tried to catch the utensil midair, and the sharp end bit into her finger before it clattered on the floor.
“Crap!” A bead of warm, red blood pooled on her fingertip, and she gazed at it, mesmerized by the dim, magenta glow. She couldn’t really call it a glow. It was more like a shimmer, proving her magic resided there and she’d moved one step closer to unlocking it.
“Are you okay?” Snow wiped her finger with a paper towel and wrapped a bandage around it, bringing Rain back to the present.
“I will be soon.”
Snow handed her the knife. “Don’t drop it.”
Rain smirked. “Thanks.”
Pressing the sharp tip against the tape, she sliced down the center of the package where the two halves of the lid met in the middle. The flaps sprang open, and she yanked out the wad of paper sitting on top. There, nestled in a bed of packing peanuts, lay the Bauhinia.
She gingerly lifted it from the box and examined the container. A glass jar held a single pink flower attached to a stem with six green leaves shaped like a cow’s hooves. Medically, the herb could lower blood sugar and treat diabetes. Magically, it could be used to resist the effects of controlling magic, like love spells and, more importantly…binding spells.
Excitement made her stomach turn. Two weeks and three hundred dollars later, and she finally held in her hands the second to last ingredient to unbind her powers and break the curse. “Get the bowl.”
“One step ahead of you.” Snow set the copper container on the counter and gently pried off the lid. A gelatinous mixture of mango, long pepper, agarwood, and a slew of strange liquids coagulated in the bottom of the bowl. She held out her hand. “Pay me first.”
“Right.” She yanked a twenty out of the cash register and pressed it into her sister’s hand.
Snow shoved the bill into her pocket. “You’re lucky this spell was written specifically for you. I hear I could get ten grand for one of these on the black market.”
“Sure. Get caught and you’ll end up with your powers bound like mine. Trust me. It’s not worth it. Nothing is.” Rain peered at the concoction, careful not to touch it for fear of contamination, and handed her sister the Bauhinia. Snow dropped the new ingredient into the bowl and crushed it into the mixture with a cast-iron pestle.
Holding her breath, Rain waited, anticipating some spark of magic or glowing aura to form from the potion. Nothing happened.
Snow set the pestle on a towel. “Huh.”
Rain’s shoulders drooped as she leaned her hip against the counter and shook her head. Could this entire spell be someone’s idea of a sick joke? It hadn’t been that long since she’d had the ability to make potions, and every time a new ingredient joined the mix, its magical properties changed the components of the spell, altering the appearance. She might as well have been staring at cake batter for all it mattered because this potion was as mundane as vanilla frosting.
Beneath a Blue Moon (Crescent City Wolf Pack Book 2) Page 4
