Curse of Iron

by D. D. Miers

  He chuckled and shook his head. “No, you go right ahead. She’s your family.”

  I sighed without meaning to. Annabelle and Portia were the only family I knew, but I’d spent my whole life just trying to survive their machinations. Portia was furious when her little sister was chosen to spend the night with a Fae lord, a tradition steeped in ritual and magic, to prevent the two sides from warring.

  My father had done his duty and gone his way, leaving my mother with the consequence, me. Unfortunately, she didn’t survive giving birth to me, cursing me twice over, with the loss of my mother and the only person on earth who would’ve protected me from the bigotry of the covens.

  “Is it really so bad?” The hint of pity in his voice made my spine stiffen. “Oh yeah. I can’t wait for her to meet you. Just don’t kill me when you’re done, after all, I warned you.” His eyes narrowed at my quip, but I raised my hand and knocked three times with the side of my fist, hard enough to sting my hand.

  “Annabelle, in the name of the three covens, I request audience with the daughter of the high priestess, my cousin by blood, and sister under Hecate.”

  Dana was my personal goddess, but as half-witch, I’d learned young to respect each member of the magical pantheon. Hecate and I had an uneasy understanding, and while she wasn’t the goddess I prayed to, Aunt Portia had demanded I complete the rite of passage to become a full priestess. She’d meant for me to die. Instead, now the goddess of earth and air granted me power, just as she did the full witches who hated me.

  It was when I learned the best revenge was simply to succeed where others expected you to fail. The early lesson had become my life mantra… right behind avoid your crazy family at all costs.

  “Who the hell do you think you are, Morgana?” The door vanished, and Annabelle appeared in the space, wasteful magic, useless because she couldn’t impress or intimidate me with her power, and extra-cringy because it showed Grayson she was capable of depositing the alpha in my bed without a sound or physical clue.

  “I think I’m your cousin, Annabelle,” I answered my name with hers, canceling any power she might gain over me by using it. It was juvenile of her to even try it, but mature and thoughtful weren’t words ever used to describe her. “And as your blood, I’m here to offer you a warning.”

  Despite the rundown I’d given him on the way over, Grayson stiffened next to me, his hands balled into fists at his side. I touched his wrist to calm him, and my fingers tingled, sending a shock of pleasure straight to my core.

  “Warning?” Annabelle crowed. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “Not that kind of warning, idiot,” I snapped, shoving my hands in my pockets before my temper caused me to accidentally sic nature on her. “And we both know I’d kick your lazy ass into next week if we fought, so tone it down.”

  To her credit, the magic buzzing in the air like a swarm of angry bees let up a little, making my ears pop as the pressure decreased. “What’s the warning?”

  “The shifters know a witch killed a member of the coalition, and a stupid witch, too. Anyone else would’ve made sure to do a better job of framing me.”

  Annabelle glanced around as though she’d just realized the neighbors could see us. “Come inside.” She sat us in the kitchen, a gesture meant to be rude, as we were unwelcomed and not guests. But the kitchen was the one place I could almost see Annabelle as a real person. Her baking was phenomenal, and the neighborhood children loved to spend time with her, learning to bake and eating their efforts. It was in the kitchen where Annabelle was a great witch and not the petulant, spoiled creature her mother had made her into.

  “Damn it, you really shouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah, I know. Aunt Portia has given permission to sacrifice me to the greater good,” I sighed, twisting my fingers together on the table. “That’s why we won’t be eating your excellent cooking today, Belle.”

  I glanced up to see Grayson gaping at me. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”

  “You never worry about assassinations?” Annabelle filled one of her many cat-mugs with coffee and sat at the table. I’d never seen her interested in any of the other magical races, except to disparage mine, so I assumed it had more to do with the hot black jaguar sitting across from her than any genuine curiosity.

  “If you assassinate another shifter, it marks you as a coward, incapable of leading or having honor,” Grayson shrugged. “Recent events are unheard of for our kind."

  “Annabelle, it’s pretty obvious magic killed the head of the shifter coalition. What do you know about it?”

  I wouldn’t have put it past her to have tucked him into bed next to me herself, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much it disturbed me even if it wasn’t her who did it.

  She clenched and unclenched her jaw. “I don’t know, Morgan. There is one witch the elders have been working with.”

  “Wait, this has nothing to do with Morgana’s curse?”

  Grayson coughed. “Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?”

  “God no. I’m Morgan. Morgana was my…” I glanced at Annabelle, “our, great grandmother a few times over. She had the bad taste to fall for the Fae she was hand-fasted to, and the covens tried to kill her for getting pregnant. They hated her for having a hybrid.”

  “And you’re a hybrid.”

  “The first since. But granny Morgana spirited her baby away to be raised by the Fae who would accept her and cursed the coven, declaring a hybrid would bring an end to the whole damn world.” I sighed and glanced at my cousin. "My mother died giving birth to me, and I got stuck in the personal hell of living with people who hate me for existing.”

  “So, you're the Wiccan Anti-Christ?”

  Annabelle looked confused at his reply and blurted, “Shifters are Christian?”

  Grayson laughed, a deep, gravelly chuckle making me grateful I was already sitting, as my legs turned to noodles. “Not on your life. Comparative religions was a favorite subject of mine in college.”

  “Geez. Annabelle,” I groaned. “Just give us the name of the witch and who has her now, and I’ll get out of your three kids, two cars, one dog, perfect life.” I felt Grayson’s look of surprise, but I ignored it. I couldn’t even go back to my apartment, and here I was stuck sitting around the cute, happy kitchen of my boorish, mean-spirited cousin, practically begging her to help me stop whoever was trying to get me killed when I knew she’d happily provide a blade to be sunk into my back.

  “Hey, I didn’t have to even let you in, Morgana,” she hissed, the almost cordial tone gone instantly. Just like the detective… almost like I have a specific effect on people.

  “What, no cousin, now? Gee Annabelle, it’s almost like everything I think about you is true.”

  “What you think about me? How about whatever you’re saying about us? Are you worried about whether any of its true or not?”

  “I don’t say anything about you, Belle. What would I have to say? My family wants me dead because they’re afraid of some old dead witch? Or worse, they want me dead just because they’re bigots?”

  I paced the room, pausing to look at the pictures little Toby, Annabelle’s four-year-old, had drawn. “I’ll never get to have a baby, do you understand or care?” I said, turning to face them. Grayson’s eyes widened, and I held up my hands to stop him from speaking. “No, they tried to sterilize me, but Aunt Portia has a strange sense of honor. Drown me like an unwanted kitten? Sure, no problem. Remove the instrument by which we honor the divine? No way in hell she would let that happen.”

  “So why no babies?”

  “Because I never know when my family will go back from framing me for murder, to good old-fashioned assassination attempts. If I got pregnant, I’d be painting a target on my back.” I glanced down at Annabelle. “Why is the witch being held, Belle? What did she do?”

  My cousin swallowed hard and refused to meet my eyes, but it was Grayson who broke the silence. “My God, your peopl
e are monsters. Are you suggesting they’re hurting a pregnant woman?”

  “No,” Annabelle interjected. “Witches aren’t evil the way Morgan likes to tell people. She, she ran away with a shifter, and the elders were afraid it might be the curse.” She shot me a dirty look. “Morgana L’Anglais was the most powerful witch of her time, some say no one has ever surpassed her. Her curse was felt by every member of the three covens, and some of them are old enough to remember.”

  “And yet, if you’d stop demanding purity of the race, there’d be no curse, and possibly no dead alpha,” I retorted. But Annabelle’s face blanched and she made a sign to ward off evil.

  “What alpha?” she jumped to her feet and shoved my shoulder. "What are you talking about?”

  “The dead coalition member was my alpha, a werebear and businessman by the name of Gideon Masters.”

  “Oh no.” She took a breath and shook her head. "You must get out. Now. I want nothing to do with whatever you’re wrapped up in.” She herded us toward the door as Grayson questioned me with his eyes.

  “Wait for me, I’ll be right there,” I closed the door behind him. “What the hell, cuz?”

  “The shifter Kiersten tried to run away with, was a werebear by the name of Tyler Masters. Gideon’s his older brother.” She slipped a knife from her apron and advanced, cornering me. “Your death will end the curse and this insanity will stop. Witches don’t belong with animals. It’s disgusting.”

  She slashed out at me and I reached for my magic, but her wards prevented me from calling plants or elements to protect me. “Annabelle don’t do this.”

  “You say you’d kick my ass, well here’s your chance, cuz.” She slashed at me again and circled, pacing in front of me and slicing at me any time I tried to knock the knife out of her hand or drive her back.

  Her breathing was ragged, eyes wide with fear and fanaticism. I aimed for a leg sweep, but as the knife came down on my leg in a wide arc, the front door flew open and Grayson roared and grabbed Annabelle’s hand, slamming it against the wall repeatedly until the knife clattered to the floor.

  “You don’t understand. She is cursed, shifter. Her life is nothing but an abomination, and every minute she lives encourages others to break our laws just like she does.”

  I brushed myself off and jerked away from Grayson’s offer to help. “I follow human laws. I help to uphold the law. Not your archaic and insane traditions, but real law. Natural law.”

  Annabelle glowered from the doorway as I stormed off. “She’s not smart enough to fake surprise, Grayson,” I told him in the car. I glanced back at the house, where my cousin watched us, hate, and fear naked on her face. “She’s just a stupid zealot who’s been told she’s special for so long, she believes it.”

  “You don’t believe you’re special?” he asked, and I cringed.

  "I know I’m not special. I’m unique, yeah, but there’s nothing about me making me better than anyone, or anything. I just want to be able to sleep and know my home is safe, you know?”

  He stayed quiet for a few seconds as I watched Annabelle get smaller and smaller in the passenger side mirror, until she shrank out of sight. “There are supposed to be rules in all this, right?” he finally offered, and I nodded.

  “Right.” I closed my eyes, trying to block out the instant image of Gideon’s death mask springing to my mind. “The bad guys are what you fight, out there,” I added. “They aren’t supposed to follow you home. They’re not supposed to…” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Home should be the place no one can ruin for you. Especially when it’s all you have.”

  Seven

  “Are you okay?”

  It was the first Grayson had spoken in minutes. I hadn’t expected compassion and I didn’t know how to answer. “I’m fine. This is my life and I expect it. But I guess I owe you a thank you for being there. She was a lot nicer than usual.”

  “She pulled a fucking knife on you.”

  “Eh, at least it was just a knife. If she’d started the fight with spells, there really isn’t anywhere to escalate to.” He was quiet again for a moment and my palms got wet. “Look, don’t you guys fight to the death?”

  He huffed out a big breath. “Only if we have to. I’ve never seen a challenge go to the death. We’re not monsters, just animals.” He paused, and my stomach clenched in anticipation as he continued. “I’m not going to attack you, okay? Just…is that what happened with Gideon? Did you think you were fighting to protect yourself?”

  All the air whooshed out of my lungs. This man, this beast according to my cousin, thought I’d killed his best friend, and he was kinder to me than my own family, who knew I’d never done anything to hurt anyone, ever.

  “I’m sorry, Grayson. I wish I could tell you something, anything to help explain what happened for you. The police didn’t even tell me how he died, and I didn’t know him. I’d never even talked to him, other than to wave when my boss introduced us all.”

  Power started to ramp up in the confines of the car, making it hard to breathe. “Okay, fine.”

  “I think you need to let me out of the car, Grayson.” I had used his name twice to his once, out of habit. He wasn’t a warlock, at least not exuding power so I could tell, but I’d learned quickly to take every advantage I could in a magical battle, since it could mean the difference between going to work the next day or living the rest of your life in a jar on some witch’s shelf.

  “No. You’re fine. I’ve never killed anyone, I’m not going to start now.” The light ahead of us blinked yellow, to red, and he slowed to a stop. “I can smell him on you, you know.”

  “Then, gross, but you can probably tell we didn’t have sex.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.”

  “And you can probably smell I’m a little afraid of you, but I’m not all amped up like I’m lying.”

  He glared at me, his eyes glowing almost pure gold with feral energy. “Yeah. I can.”

  I leaned into him even though my whole body screamed at me to get out and run, not walk, the other way. “I didn’t kill your friend, even if I could, which I doubt very much. So many people want an excuse to get rid of me.” My voice broke and I sniffed back the stupid, weak tears I refused to cry. “I’m not going to give anyone else the motive, or opportunity to help make that happen.”

  He was so close I could smell his skin, the slight tang of perspiration and the musk always accompanying wild things. His beast called to me, made my power flex in a way it never had before. It flared up in me like a golden flame, in the place behind my eyes where I called my magic, the place where you can almost see what’s hidden from the tangible world.

  “What, are you?” he breathed. He leaned even closer to me, so his nose almost brushed my cheek, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. “I haven’t smelled shifter magic on you before.”

  “I haven’t felt it before, either, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “I’ve never been this close to a high Fae.”

  I laughed aloud. “Oh, I’m not High Fae, only my father is. My, uh, mutt status is automatic denial from the pleasures of living with the High Fae,” I said drily. “I’m just a witch/Fae accident with no people of her own.”

  He jerked back like I’d slapped him, the gold intensifying in his eyes until I was afraid he was going to shift right in the car with me. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” I flinched and hugged myself. No one had ever been horrified by my position before.

  “I’m sure there’s worse things than not having a tribe, Grayson,” I scoffed.

  “Not to a were-jaguar, there isn’t.” The car behind us honked and he turned from me and urged the car forward, pulling over when he was through the intersection. “Even if you had nothing to do with Gideon’s death, which seems impossible, considering…even if you had nothing to do with his murder, I think you need to stay with me.”

  I undid my seatbelt and unlocked the door. “Thanks, but I’m having enough trouble staving off
a full-on panic attack. Being babysat by a werecat who could turn on me at any second isn’t going to make it easier.”

  His hand wrapped around my wrist, fingers easily encircling my wrist and handcuffing it tight. “You are staying with me.” He tugged on me, gently, and I settled back into my seat. “At least until we know whoever killed Gideon isn’t coming back for you.”

  “Oh, comforting thought.” He raised an eyebrow at me and I waved him off. “I mean, I thought it too, but it doesn’t mean I need to hear you say it.”

  He cleared his throat and I saw his mouth turn up at the corners, just enough to give me hope even if he didn’t trust me, at least I wasn’t at the top of his kill list. The car stayed at the curb, waiting, until I caught the side-eye he was giving me and reattached my seatbelt.

  We merged back into the traffic on the narrow city street and back onto Grant Avenue, heading toward Chinatown. I played with the stations on his fancy satellite radio until I found a station playing old nineties grunge rock and settled back, pretending I wasn’t burning with curiosity about where he was taking me.

  Brrrpt, brrrpt! His speakers blurted as they announced an incoming call that showed up on the small screen in the dashboard, Niall Dunne. Grayson glanced at me and cleared his throat, pressing the button to accept the call. “Niall, the wind be with you, brother.”

  “So formal? Is it about Gideon, or do you have a new woman with you who you’re trying to impress?”

  “I have a guest with me, Niall, since you asked, but I don’t believe she’s versed in our ways enough to care if I’m formal with you or not.”

  “Okay, okay, sorry, Gray. I was just jerking your chain.” Grayson waited a beat and cleared his throat again. “Uh, yeah, right,” Niall’s Irish lilt filled the car as he continued. “We got trouble over at the Piedmont. A couple wolves got a few in them and decided they were going to get a leg up on selecting the new alpha.”