I pull out onto the main road, my tires screeching on the pavement. I make a beeline for my house. Since I didn’t actually injure anyone, the coven probably won’t show up at my house in force to kill me tonight. They seem to want me alive for now at least.
My knuckles are white on the steering wheel. I’m already starting to shake. I hate this feeling after a fight when my body doesn’t realize the danger has passed.
I glance at the rearview mirror every few seconds. The roads outside of town are always empty. It would be obvious if someone had followed me.
The house looks perfectly innocent as I drive up the driveway. The light in the kitchen is still on and there are no black cars waiting for me. I still step out of the car hesitantly, every sense on high alert.
I crack open the back door and listen carefully for the telltale creak of the floor, or a breath. I step inside and shut the door behind me, turning the lock.
Something touches my leg and I scream, throwing the lights on as I scramble for a potion on the workbench.
Muffins stares up at me, not pleased with the ruckus I just made at all.
“You fucking, stupid, worthless cat. Trying to kill me,” I gasp out as I slide to the floor. “Swear to god I’ll take you to the pound if you ever do that again.”
She meows and walks away with her tail held high.
I rub my hands briskly over my face and stand up. With the adrenaline fading, I’d like nothing more than to just go to bed, but I’m alone and I can’t risk letting the coven walk up to my house and murder me in my sleep.
Mr. Brunson wouldn’t approve of what I’m about to do. Honestly, my mother wouldn’t either.
“There’s a balance Livvy, especially with brewing. You give yourself a high, be prepared for the low.”
I slam my copper cauldron down on the stove and light the fire. The pot needs to be nice and hot for what I’m about to brew. Everything about this potion is extreme. I’m lucky I have most of the ingredients on hand for it. I’ll have to substitute stinging nettle for a scorpion tail, but it’ll do.
I grab my packet of peppers out of the fridge. I had them special ordered from South Carolina a few months ago and carefully dried them. Next is the ginseng, tequila, three cubes of ice, and a scorpion tail. The last item takes me a moment to decide.
I run my hand carefully over the drawer of crystals. A pink danburite practically jumps into my hand. It feels bright and ready, it's perfect.
I crush everything separately and set the ingredients in order on the counter. The cauldron is radiating heat. The tequila hits it first and sizzles loudly. I quickly add the rest of the ingredients, the crystal going in last.
I grab my crystal stirring rod and plunge it into the brew. It begins to glow red and grows hot in my hand. Magic beats in my chest as my heart speeds up and I’m breathing like I’ve just run a marathon. A bright red spark jumps from my chest into the fire under the cauldron, then another, and another, until the fire is burning hotter than it should be able to.
The ingredients dissolve into a black liquid that just barely covers the bottom of the cauldron. Just as it starts to smoke I lean over the cauldron and take a long, deep breath. The smoke twists up, curling into my nostrils and burning its way down into my lungs. It hurts like hell and my eyes water. I grit my teeth against the urge to scream as energy rushes through me, this brew is strong as hell.
I’m finally able to exhale. I turn off the fire underneath the cauldron as I pant, sweat dripping down my forehead. I’ve never felt so awake, the next eighteen or so hours should be fun.
I go into the living room and turn on the window unit, cranking the temperature down to sixty-eight degrees. My silky shirt is stuck to me from all the sweating I did between running for my life and brewing a super hot potion. I brace my hands on the window sill and let the cool air pour down shirt. It feels like heaven.
Jessica. Britney. Patrick.
All missing. The girls are dead, which doesn’t reassure me about how safe Patrick might be. I have to consider that he has lost control, but the idea of it is ludicrous to me. Patrick is well fed and other than a perverse enjoyment of startling people, a seriously nice guy. The timing doesn’t look great though.
I have no idea if anyone turned up dead before Jessica. I chew at my thumbnail and stare at the detective's card on my dining room table. I hadn’t thrown it away after all. He would probably know if there are any other connected disappearances, but I can hardly call him at two am and ask.
Maybelle might know if anyone has disappeared even if she doesn’t know about the investigation. I should be able to connect the dots myself. So far it’s been neckers. The coven seems to be out on the list of suspects, they’re too angry about the potential for bad press. Covens tend to be a lot more subtle about their killing anyhow, the police would never find a body.
My hands are shaking, but with unspent energy instead of lack of adrenaline. I can’t talk to Maybelle until seven or eight tomorrow, there’s no point pacing my living room worrying about Patrick. I jog back to my workroom. I might as well brew some things I haven’t had a reason to brew in ages. Whatever happens next, I want to be armed to the teeth.
I’ve been sitting outside Maybelle’s cafe for twenty minutes when Johnny arrives to open the front door. I’ve been smelling food baking for almost an hour and I’m starving.
“The hell you doing out here so early?” He asks as he strolls up. He stops when he’s in front of me, his smile dropping into a frown. “Girl, you high on something?”
I smooth my hair down, I’m sweating again. I’d changed clothes, but I think I forgot to brush out my hair.
“Not really, just didn’t sleep last night,” I say, forcing my face into a smile that has to look even more uncomfortable than it feels.
Johnny shakes his head. “Maybelle don’t like you treating yourself like that. You know I don’t either. You get in here and have a glass of water and we’re going to have a chat.”
He goes over straight back to the kitchen, knowing I’ll follow. The cooks nod in greeting, but they’re fully focused on getting ready to open. A couple of the waiters are yawning and pulling on their aprons already.
Johnny pauses to pour a glass of water for me and a cup of coffee for himself before continuing back to Maybelle’s office. He points at the chair in front of her desk. I sit down and take a long drink of water.
“What did you take?” He asks, his tone steady, as if he’s trying to reassure me I can’t shock him. If I were to close my eyes, I could imagine Mr. Brunson standing there instead with his cowboy hat and his thumbs tucked into his gun belt.
“Just a no-sleep potion,” I say, bouncing my leg up and down nervously. “It’s not a drug, magic or otherwise, it’s just a brew that keeps you up for fifteen to twenty hours depending on how strong you make it.”
“Now why in the hell would you need to take something like that?”
“I had a run-in with the local coven last night. They were asking me to do something I couldn’t do, and I didn’t feel safe sleeping last night.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
I laugh, and it gets away from me. The no-sleep potion can do that, take your emotions to extremes you don’t intend. I’m cackling, tears streaming down my face, and Johnny is starting to look concerned.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, wiping away the tears. “It’s just that I always forget how human you are, Johnny.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks with narrowed eyes, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening.
“Witches and vampires and weres, we have to keep up appearances and look like we are operating under human law, but that’s not really how it works. Some witch goes to the police to report a coven is being mean to her? She’d disappear before anyone even had a chance to follow up. Besides, some of the police are part of the coven. My complaint would never make it to anyone that could help and I’d just look weak.”
“You know Maybelle would
protect you if you needed it.”
“I’m doing alright on my own so far. I know I look a little crazy today, but I’m okay, I promise.”
He looks skeptical but doesn’t push the issue. “Well, you come get breakfast and stay here for today, alright? And you better be ready to talk to Maybelle when she gets in, she should be here around lunchtime.”
“Breakfast sounds good, and I need to talk to Maybelle anyhow.”
I stop in the employee bathroom and lock the door behind me. My reflection looks at me blearily from the mirror and I freeze, no wonder Johnny was concerned. Makeup is smeared down my cheeks and my eyes are bloodshot. My hair is tangled and windblown from leaning into the window unit trying to get cooled off last night.
I rinse my face off in the sink and run my fingers through my hair as well as I can. I still don’t look great, but I look more like I’m hungover instead of like I’ve been on a bender for three days.
The cafe is already half full when I get back to the front. I find a table in the corner and sit down. A waiter, Kevin something, hands me a menu then rushes off again. My stomach growls hungrily. I’d forgotten how much this brew increases my appetite.
I’m ready to order when Kevin gets back, and if he’s judging me for how much I order it doesn’t show on his face. Good man.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and send a couple of texts to Patrick, just in case, and text Emilio as well. No matter what I find out today from Maybelle I need to talk to Javier again. With the coven threatening me I want some assurances that the vampires will have my back since I’m sticking my neck out for them.
A shadow falls over my table and I look up, surprised my food is out already. Detective Jason Martinez stands over me instead. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that stretches in a real flattering manner over his biceps and a pair of light wash jeans that I really need to see from the back. I realize I’m staring when he clears his throat and my eyes jump back up to his face.
“You’re up early,” he says with a smirk,
I roll my eyes. “I don’t always sleep until two in the afternoon, you just caught me on a bad day.”
“Why was it a bad day?”
I immediately bristle. They’re always on duty, even when they’re not. “My sorta boyfriend was sorta fucking someone else.”
He purses his lips but doesn’t bother apologizing for asking. He just pulls out the chair across from me and sits down. “Anyone sitting here?”
“You apparently,” I say with a raised brow.
Kevin shows up right then, three plates of food balanced on a tray. He sets them all down in front of me.
“Oh, you were expecting someone?” Martinez asks, moving to scoot back his chair.
“No,” I say before I think better of it. I pull the plates in a little closer, Martinez is eyeing my biscuits and gravy and I am not sharing.
“Would you like to order anything, sir?” Kevin asks politely. I’m going to have to tip Kevin well.
“Um, sure,” Martinez says. “Biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon.”
I knew it. I grab my fork and take a quick bite, I’m not waiting for him to get his food.
Kevin hurries away and Martinez watches me eat my first plate of food in silence.
“So, are you on something?” He asks carefully.
I sigh and roll my eyes, slamming down my fork. “Everyone needs to stop asking me that, it’s going to give me a complex.”
He waits, like that wasn’t really an answer.
“I’m not high,” I say as I butter a piece of toast. “Did you want something in particular? Or just to watch me eat?”
“I didn’t really have a plan when I saw you, actually. Watching you eat is pretty mesmerizing so far though,” he says with a slow smile that has a heat to it I didn’t expect to see from him. Maybe my staring earlier put some thoughts in his head.
His food is delivered and we eat in silence for a few minutes. I stare at his arms flexing as he cuts through his biscuits and gravy. He stares at me, probably looking down my shirt. I put a large piece of bacon in my mouth, then lick my lips. His eyes follow my tongue and I have to chew faster to keep from smiling. He grins and looks down at his plate.
Last night I didn’t think there was any chance I could ask him about the other missing girl, but the universe has seen fit to deliver him to my table. Maybe it’s a sign.
“You heard anything about a girl named Britney going missing? She would have been in Jessica’s crowd kind of.”
He leans back and wipes his mouth, the flirtatious look in his eye falls away, he almost looks guilty now. “Britney Davidson, twenty-five-year-old white female, her body was found at four am this morning. Preliminary cause of death is blood loss due to vampire bite.”
Shit. That confirms what I suspected. I poke at the last half of my waffle, my appetite is suddenly gone.
“Why did you ask me about her?”
“Last night one of her friends, Dawn, asked if I’d seen her. I hadn’t, by the way,” I say, flicking my eyes to his to make sure he understands my meaning. “The way Dawn was talking made me think she’d probably disappeared like Jessica.”
“Britney was actually killed first. A full week before Jessica as best we can tell. Are you sure you didn’t see Britney around a week ago? Anywhere?”
“I’m sure,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms.
“Why are you trying so hard to protect the vampires?” He asks, leaning forward, his brows knit together as he searches my face.
“I’m not trying to protect anybody.”
“They prey on these girls, you understand that right? They use them until they end up anemic and then toss them out. They end up addicted to drugs and turning tricks on the street corners, it’s not right.”
“You really hate vampires, don’t you?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“No, I don’t. I just don’t trust them.”
I scoff. “Right. You don’t hate the monsters that prey on the weak, you just don’t trust them.”
“Why do you work with them?”
“I already told you, the money.”
“You could join the local coven if you need money.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Excuse me?” His brows climb up his forehead and he tightens his grip on his glass.
“Join the coven? I really thought you were in on it, that you knew what your partner was up to, but you are actually completely oblivious.”
“What are you talking about?”
I lean forward, resting my chin in my hand. “Why don’t ask your partner why two people from his coven strong-armed me out of Rudie’s last night. Ask why they threatened to kill me and tried to force me to call Novak and pin these murders on the vampires. They asked me to lie. The bitchy one with the red lipstick burned the hell out of my car too.”
Martinez is staring at me with narrowed eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say leaning back in my chair. “Now, fuck off.”
He stands up, his chair sliding back loudly. “If you have information we need, come to the station and talk or next time I’ll have to drag you there.”
“Oh, onto threats already. I thought you were playing the good cop.”
He throws a twenty down on the table then marches out of the restaurant. He falters when he walks past my car. I know it still smells like smoke and the paint on the rear is peeling off and streaked with burn marks.
I have to wait another two hours for Maybelle to show up at the cafe. She frets and repeats everything Johnny already said. She doesn’t know of anyone else missing and hasn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. I don’t stay long, I’m not in the mood to have her fluttering around worrying over me right now. She keeps asking questions I don’t want to answer.
I sit in my car out front for a few minutes, weighing my options. I could get supplies to make another no-sleep brew, and I might have to, but first I want to talk
to Gerard. Maybe he’ll be less cryptic today.
Gerard’s place looks the same as it always does from the street. I sit in my car for a few minutes regardless, just in case someone was following me, but no one else pulls onto the street. With a sigh, I climb out of my car.
I knock on the door and stumble forward when it swings open then swings right back shut. The latch on the door is busted. I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight, then pull a vial out of my pocket.
I kick the door and it swings all the way open this time and stays that way. With one last glance behind me, I step inside. The light from my phone only reaches so far so I shine it in a wide circle around me. There’s the usual trash, but no people as far as I can see.
I walk through the debris slowly, turning around to check behind me every few steps. I feel watched in here.
“Gerard, you here?” I shout. My voice seems to die in the big warehouse.
I finally make it back to his office. The door is wide open. The room is empty.
I pull up to the vampire’s house a full hour before they’ll be awake. The nervous energy I’ve felt all day is fading, and fast. I chug the last of my coffee, but I know it isn’t going to stop the crash that’s coming.
I climb out of my car and sit on the porch facing the door. The white paint by my hand is peeling slightly. I pick at it absently and lean my head back against the porch railing. I wonder if they find me passed out and sweaty out here after sunset if they’ll bring me inside.
I don’t have anywhere else to go. I won’t put Maybelle at risk by hiding out at her place. I don’t think the coven would go after a pillar of the community like her, but covens can be unpredictable. I’ve always thought that Javier might offer some measure of protection since I’m an employee, but I’ve never tested how far that protection goes before.
I send a text to Patrick, even though I knew he won’t see it, even though he’s probably dead like those girls. I miss that little prankster. He would have brought me inside and made sure I didn’t die if he’d been here.
Borrowed Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Witch's Bite Series Book 1) Page 4
