by Sarah Piper
“Anyway,” Ronan continued, “someone’s out there taking out witches, and on top of that you’ve got the Grim Creeper on your ass, and the whole thing is just an epic cluster fuck.”
Grim Creeper. I might’ve laughed at that one, if there were anything even remotely funny about this situation.
“Ronan…” I fought off a shiver and looked into his eyes. As much as I’d rather not talk about what had happened in the alley—and had almost happened again with Sophie—I couldn’t keep him in the dark any longer. “Last night… That thing with Sophie? When he said all that stuff about inserting souls?”
“He’s crazy, Gray. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
“He’s Death, Ronan. Pretty sure he’s got his finger on the pulse, okay?”
“It’s not—”
“Listen to me. Please.” I had to tell him before I chickened out again. “The reason he showed up like that… It’s because of my magic. Something’s wrong. The other night in the alley, a kid died in my arms, and before I even realized what the hell was happening, I’d tapped into my magic. Somehow I…” I blinked away the images of her milky stare and those jerky, awkward steps as she shambled out of the alley, tears blurring my eyes. “I brought her back.”
Ronan went completely still. Through a jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might shatter, he said, “Define ‘brought her back.’”
“I mean, one minute she was dead, and then I sort of…” I held up my palms like I had that night, and the slick, watery feeling of her soul came right back to me, making my skin tingle. “I basically… magically… pushed her soul back inside. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“Like you tried to do with Sophie,” he said.
“Yes. Only I wasn’t trying—not with either of them. Something took over and it just sort of… happened.” I shivered, remembering the ghostly black trees that had infiltrated my magic place. Echoes of that coal-dark wood had stayed with me even now, and as much as I wanted to tell Ronan every last detail, I couldn’t bring myself to describe it. Talking about that place felt too much like going back there, and I never wanted to go back to that forest again.
I told him the rest though. About the man in the alley, Bean, how Darius had figured it all out.
Ronan was silent for so long, I was beginning to worry I’d finally pushed him over the edge.
“You can say it,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “I’m a total freak. I wouldn’t blame you if you bailed. Or notified the—”
“I can’t believe you’d even think that.”
I shrugged. It’s not that I didn’t have faith in our friendship—I did. But in my experience, once the first domino fell, they had a tendency to keep dropping.
“Gray, that’s not…” Ronan shook his head, blowing out a breath. He reached out and pulled me into a hug, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I will never bail on you. Or do anything to put you in harm’s way. Ever.”
My heart sped up, everything inside me suddenly warm and buzzing. Words like safe and home and real floated through my mind, and I reached up to brush my fingertips over his lips, wanting to touch him, to feel him.
Wanting to kiss him.
Ronan wanted it too. I could see it in his eyes, a hundred moments just like this crashing through his memory, finally pushing us past the invisible boundary we’d both worked so hard to keep in place. None of that mattered anymore. Nothing mattered but this moment, the kiss we could no longer delay…
“Hey, love birds?”
Ronan and I jumped apart at the noise, and I turned to see fucking Asher O’Keefe waltzing into our private moment with another one of his maddeningly stupid smirks.
“Think we could continue this touchy-feely fest somewhere else?” he asked. “I’m freezing my dick off out here.”
“Real classy,” I said.
“Hey. No one likes a frozen dick, Cupcake.”
“How do you know?” I snapped. “Maybe lots of people like frozen dick.”
“In that case, when’s your birthday?”
That earned him another punch from Ronan. “Fuck off, Ash. Preferably at least fifty feet away.”
Once Asher was out of earshot, I turned back to Ronan and said, “So that’s the guy you want looking out for me, huh?”
“He may be rough around the edges—”
“Not to mention a complete tool.”
“That too.” Ronan smiled, but it was clear our tender moment had passed.
It was also clear I’d need to find a really good hiding place for Asher’s body, because once all this was over, I was going to kill that demon.
“I trust him with my life,” Ronan said. “And yours.”
I searched his eyes, but there was absolutely no uncertainty there. Whatever I personally thought about Asher, Ronan was vouching for him.
I sighed.
“Give him a chance.” Ronan looped me into another embrace, and I lay my ear against his chest, inhaling his cloves-and-campfire scent, once again finding my safe place in the steady beat of his heart.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll give him a chance. But you can’t make me like him. I’ve known him all of ten minutes, and I already want to punch him in the nuts.”
Ronan laughed, the deep rumble of it reverberating against my ear as he tightened his arms around me. “Gray Desario, you have no idea how fucking thrilled I am to hear that.”
Seventeen
Gray
We walked side by side down Pierce Street, me in the middle, flanked by the two demons now tasked with keeping me safe.
Unlike Ronan, I wasn’t ready to assume I had a target on my back, and I certainly wasn’t ready for this to become a permanent arrangement. But for now I took comfort in their imposing presence, and as we walked back toward my neighborhood, I felt a little better than I had this morning.
“So, the witches…” Ronan prompted, picking up where we’d left off in the park.
“They’re definitely hiding something,” I said. “It's so obvious.”
The rain had let up, and in the sudden quiet of the deserted street, my declaration sounded paranoid and shrill.
Didn't mean I was wrong though.
“Everyone in this town is hiding something,” Asher said, scanning the streets as we walked.
“Even you?” I asked.
He turned toward me and smirked, his blue eyes a striking contrast to the dull gray day. “Especially me, sweetheart.”
“Well, everyone may be keeping secrets,” I said, “but only one person murdered my best friend. And I'm pretty sure those witches know a hell of a lot more than they’re letting on.”
“Doesn’t add up, Gray.” Ronan shook his head. “You said it yourself—Sophie was basically part of the coven. Their sister. Why would they cover up her murder?”
I clenched my teeth. Part of the coven. Their sister. It still stung to hear it.
“You didn't see them, Ronan. Something about the whole scene was just… off.” I had no love for the Bay Coven, nor them for me, but something about Norah’s rejection went beyond all that. It wasn't sitting well with me.
Now that I’d had some distance from it, I could see it more clearly. Our conversation on the porch, the tea… In fact, other than my fight with Delilah and Reva’s final goodbye, almost everything about my visit had felt staged.
“A witch was murdered,” Ronan said. “One of their own. They've gotta be spooked.”
“I could almost buy that, but I'm telling you, there's more to it. It's like… I don’t know. Like they're all afraid of Norah.”
Ronan shrugged. “She's the alpha, right?”
“She’s the elder,” I corrected. “And it’s her house. But witches aren't like shifters. Covens are big on equality—one voice, one vote kind of shit.”
“Except,” Asher pointed at my face, his mouth stretched into a smug grin, “when it comes to you. You get no votes."
“Yeah, well. They don't see me a
s a witch.” I smacked his hand away, ignoring the momentary spark I felt at the brief contact. “They've made that pretty clear.”
Asher grunted. “Nothing says get the fuck out like the ‘don’t let the door hit you in the ass’ ward.”
“Thanks. I was wondering what that ward meant.” Asshole.
Snuggling deeper into my sweatshirt, I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinking back tears. I had never wanted to join the coven, but maybe some part of me liked knowing the door was open if I ever changed my mind.
Now, I was truly a witch alone.
As if he could read my thoughts, Ronan slid his warm hand around the back of my neck, casting my skin in shivers. “You're not alone, Gray."
“Clearly,” Asher chimed in. “Ronan can’t keep his hands off you more than five minutes without getting twitchy.”
“Keep talking, demon,” Ronan warned, “and I’ll twitch my boot right up your ass.”
I forced a smile. I appreciated Ronan’s support in all its many forms, but he didn't understand. Despite his loyalty to our friendship—and apparently to Asher—demons were solitary by nature; I suspected that was why Ronan took off like he did, disappearing for days at a time, or why he sometimes slipped into a melancholy so deep and dark I feared I’d never be able to drag him back into the light.
Sometimes the human world got to be too much for a demon.
Me? I was solitary by circumstance, not by choice.
“Game night!” Sophie announced, bouncing into the living room with a bottle of Absolut. “Drunk charades. Am I brilliant, or am I brilliant?”
“You’re totally brilliant,” I said. “But I’m pretty sure we need more people to play charades. Also, I have to work in an hour.”
“Ooh, I know this one!” Sophie pointed the bottle at my face, her grin lighting up the room. “Boring-ass bitch who desperately needs of a fun night off.”
“Wow. You really are brilliant.”
“Call Waldrich and tell him you’re sick. I’ll get the glasses…”
Tears clouded my vision as the random memory passed, the reality of her death slamming into me all over again. Half my heart was missing. And she hadn’t just died of natural causes, or fallen on a wet sidewalk, or lost the battle to some crazy disease. All of those things would’ve been terrible, but they were actual reasons.
This? Some senseless murder? Someone had taken her from us. They’d come into our home, found her sleeping in bed, and snuffed the life out of her.
The air rushed from my lungs, and my knees buckled beneath me, threatening to send me sprawling. But just before I crashed to the pavement, two pair of strong hands grabbed my arms hauled me up.
“Gray?” Asher’s face was a blur before me, but I didn’t miss the flash of concern in his eyes.
“She’s okay.” Ronan leaned in close, his strong arms enveloping me, his voice warm and comforting in my ear. “Just breathe, Gray. Just breathe.”
I couldn’t though. That was the thing.
My chest felt like it had been clawed open, my heart exposed. Even as Ronan rubbed slow circles on my back, I couldn’t seem to catch my breath, and all around me the world tilted sideways, rocking and spinning until I could no longer tell what was up and what was down.
More memories of Sophie flickered through my mind like a hundred little movies: Eating Chinese takeout on the floor the first night in our rental house, wondering what people without access to Chinese takeout did on moving day. Painting her bedroom a pale lavender and mine a sunny yellow, only to switch rooms when we realized we each liked the other one better. Finding one of her cheerful painted rocks in the pocket of an old coat I hadn’t worn in months, wishing me a beautiful day; snuggling together under her daisy comforter and binge-watching romantic comedies on her laptop during a rare snowstorm that had kept the entire city indoors for two days. And of course that first night we'd met during a delivery to Illuminae—the instant connection I’d felt the moment she smiled at me across the bar.
I’m new here, she’d said, signing for the order. Don’t tell anyone I have no idea what I’m doing.
Since that night seven years ago, I hadn’t gone more than a day without seeing her.
Now, I’d never see her again. Never find a rock in my pocket, painted with one of her encouraging Sophie-isms. Never draw Tarot cards with her over a pot of tea after a long work shift. Never climb up onto our garage roof at midnight to watch a meteor shower.
Never tell her how much she meant to me.
A trembled rolled through my body, starting in my legs and rumbling up through my chattering teeth. Tears leaked unbidden from my eyes, and I squeezed them shut and tried to follow the sound of Ronan’s voice, a faraway beacon in the fog of this wretched misery.
“Just breathe, baby,” Ronan whispered again. “I’ve got you.”
I don’t know how long I stood there falling apart in his arms, but when the fog finally dissipated and I felt like I could stand on my own two feet again, I looked up into Ronan’s eyes and smiled. Not a happy grin by any stretch, but a grateful one.
Grateful for Ronan. Grateful for our friendship and his unwavering loyalty. Grateful that no matter how short Sophie’s life had been, the universe had seen fit to give us seven years together.
In that moment, I was even grateful for grumpy Asher—not that I’d share that particular sentiment out loud.
“There you are.” Ronan returned my smile, then pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Hey. When was the last time you ate? Toast doesn’t count.”
“I… don’t remember.”
He grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together and giving me a reassuring squeeze as Asher resumed his place on my right. “Come on. We’re making a detour.”
Johnny's Seaside Pizza was a tiny place on Water Street with a three-stools-wide counter up front, a kitchen in the back, and a side room the size of a shack for placing takeout orders. Despite the meager setup, it was the best damn pizza west of Seattle, and only four blocks from home.
Ronan was buying, so Asher and I waited under the awning outside, watching the rain pelt the pavement in front of us. Across the street, two crows argued over a soggy pizza crust.
Watching them fight for that scrap of food weighed me with deep sadness.
“Hey, Asher? I… Thanks,” I mumbled, needing a distraction. “For before. I don’t usually…”
I trailed off, not sure how to finish that. In the last two nights, I’d gotten a young girl killed, half-resurrected her, saved another girl from a life of vamp slavery, found my best friend murdered in her bed, gotten a proposition from Death, and gotten officially banned from a coven. Something told me there were quite a few more ‘I don’t usually’ moments in my future.
Asher nodded once, but didn’t say anything. Didn’t even turn to look at me.
Wow. If Ronan was enigmatic, this guy was downright impenetrable.
When I couldn’t take another minute of his stone-cold silence, I turned to him and said, “So, what’s your story, Asher O’Keefe?”
“Which one, Gray Desario?”
“Any one. I don’t know. How did you and Ronan hook up?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased.
“I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Hot tip, Cupcake.” He turned to me with a condescending frown. “Maybe you should stick to making your fluffy bunny potions or sparkly charm bracelets or whatever it is you flit around doing all day.”
“Potions and charm bracelets? Please.” I let out a low chuckle. “I’m more of a poisons girl myself. Never know when you might suddenly need of a gruesome yet completely untraceable cause of death for that special someone in your life.”
Ronan cocked an eyebrow, and I swear I caught a flicker of appreciation in his sea-blue eyes.
I was trapped in his beautiful gaze, and again I felt that strange pull, like tendrils of heat snaking around my body and drawing me in. But before I fell headlong into another totally inappropriate fan
tasy, he clammed up, grunting once more and turning back toward the fighting crows.
“Whatever you say, Cupcake.”
And just like that, I was dismissed.
Fucking demons.
The wind kicked up, coating us both in a bone-chilling rain, finally dousing the lingering heat between my thighs. Shivering, I hunched my shoulders and shoved my hands into my sweatshirt pockets, surprised to find something stuffed in the left one.
I pulled it out to take a look—a fancy floral napkin from Norah’s place, a message scrawled on the back.
Find Jael. Go alone.
“Shit.”
“What is it?” Asher loomed over my shoulder, smothering me in his fiery, spicy scent.
“Someone sending a message.” I fingered the note, turning over the possibilities in my mind. More to myself than to Asher, I said, “Gotta be Haley—she was the only one who got close enough.”
I couldn’t decide whether I was relieved or completely freaked. Was Haley an ally after all? Why couldn’t she say this in front of Norah and the others? More importantly, what the hell did Haley know about Jael?
“Jael?” Asher grabbed the note, his brow creased with suspicion. “What’s this Haley chick’s involvement with the Seelie prince?”
I snatched it away from him and shoved it back in my pocket. “That's what I want to know.”
Because Jael—Prince of the Seelie Court, brother of Sophie’s boss Kallayna, and Illuminae’s most sought after deejay—was also Sophie's lover.
Eighteen
Gray
If witches and demon relationships were frowned upon in the supernatural community, witches and fae were practically a capital offense.
Fae were beautiful, otherworldly, and highly manipulative. Get too close to one, and he might have you revealing your deepest magical secrets, or worse—using your magic to harm someone else at his behest.
Thing was, Sophie could read their intentions, which made weeding out the shady ones easier for her. So when she came home late from work one morning last year, glowing in a way that had nothing to do with fae illusion and everything to do with Jael’s touch, I wasn't worried. I was actually happy for her.
