Ofelia? Or was it Odessa?
“—and I apologize for our rudeness in coming to your home unannounced—”
Opal? Oakley?
“—but we felt we had no choice after—”
“Olivia!” I exclaimed triumphantly.
Her brow pinched. “Yes?”
Coughing awkwardly, I composed my expression. “Let’s back up. First question: How did you find me? Like, seriously?”
Along with being unknown to MagiPol, I was also unknown to the magical community outside the Crow and Hammer. I wasn’t registered in the MPD database, wasn’t an official employee of the guild, and for all intents and purposes, I didn’t exist in the world of mythics.
So, what the hell were two witches doing here?
Odette offered a weak smile. “As Olivia said, we apologize for intruding. We inquired among the local fae, and several smallfae told us of the witch who lives with a forest sprite, and through them, we found your house.”
Twiggy, that leaf-brained gossiper. What had he been telling his sprite friends about me?
She leaned forward. “We’re delighted to meet a spirit sister. We thought we knew all the—”
“I’m not a witch.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“You … you aren’t? But you live with a fae.” She pointed at my arm. “You have a fae token of debt.”
I looked at my inner wrist. Almost invisible against my skin was a small, elegant rune. “Uh … special circumstances. But yeah, not a witch.”
“Oh.” She waited, probably hoping I’d tell her what kind of mythic I was, but I knew how these things worked. Asking a mythic for their class was super rude.
I wished I could tell them my mythic class. If I were a mythic, I wouldn’t be here right now—I’d be at the guild with the guys.
“You said you had a request,” I prompted before my self-pity could take hold.
“We, well …” Olivia winced. “We aren’t very comfortable among the … upper echelon of mythics. We find it difficult to meet with other guilds.”
Odette’s shoulders drooped. “And our experiences with this issue have left us even more uncertain. We’d hoped a casual, more intimate meeting would be easier.”
Easier for them, not for me. They were here on guild business, but I wasn’t a guild member and this was way above my pay grade—meaning it was time to end this “meeting” before I got myself into real trouble.
“Alrighty then,” I declared, hopping to my feet. “It was nice meeting you, Misses Double-O’s, but I’m afraid I’m the wrong person to talk to. If you want help with something, you’ll need to speak with—”
“Please, Tori,” Odette interrupted, her soft voice somehow cutting through mine. “Please, hear us out. You don’t have to do anything. Just listen, and pass on our plea to your guild.”
I hesitated. Hear them out? That didn’t sound so bad …
But no. One, strange mythics were in my house and that wasn’t safe. Two, I was already under MPD investigation for interfering in guildy things. And three, I was possibly drunk. Okay, probably drunk.
At the thought of my banishment, sorrow and loneliness trickled through me. Were the guys at the pub right now, drinking in their usual spot beside my station? Kai, scrolling on his laptop, looking for their next bounty to chase, while Aaron and Ezra bantered. I should have been there, serving their drinks and bantering with them.
Slowly, I sat down on my stool again. I was cut off when I so desperately wanted to be part of their world, but here was a tiny piece of it, sitting primly on my sofa. I couldn’t bring myself to show them the door.
“Okay,” I grumbled. “Spit it out.”
“Thank you,” Olivia gushed. She tucked her wavy hair behind one ear, blue eyes shining with gratitude. “You have no idea what this means to us. We have no one else to turn to.”
“Yeah, sure.” I waved at her to continue.
“Allow me to start at the beginning. My coven’s territory, as I’m sure you know, spans the entirety of Stanley Park, as well as the downtown area, though, of course, there are few fae in the city.”
“Of course,” I agreed, pretending I’d known that.
“Early this spring, several fae went missing in Stanley Park. It’s a large space as far as parks go, but it’s a small pocket of wilderness with daily visitors, so the fae population is limited to faeries, sprites, and pixies. We searched for the missing fae, but they’ve vanished entirely.”
“You sure they didn’t just leave? Twiggy vanishes whenever he feels like it.”
“Ah.” Odette coughed. “You may already know this, but as semi-corporeal beings, fae can move between our reality and their own. Those without the Spiritalis gift can’t detect fae who have crossed into Elysium, but we can.”
“Oh. Sorry, yeah, I’m not up on all the witchery stuff.”
“Many mythics aren’t,” she lied kindly. “Trust us when we say these smallfae have truly vanished.”
Olivia straightened her skirt, her motions stiff. “Unfortunately, that was just the beginning. The fae have continued to disappear from the park. In total, eighteen smallfae have gone missing in the last four months.”
Concern rose inside me, sharpening my thoughts. “That’s terrible.”
“We went to the other guilds, but every single one turned us away.” Odette’s eyes flashed. “Non-Spiritalis mythics aren’t equipped for fae, they said, but really, they simply couldn’t be bothered to help. They don’t care about smallfae.”
“That’s what brought us to the Crow and Hammer,” Olivia murmured. “To you.”
“We’ve asked every other guild in the city that does bounty work. We even”—Odette gulped—“asked Odin’s Eye to take the job. They refused, though in their case, it’s because the bounty isn’t high enough to interest them.”
“Odin’s Eye,” I mumbled. That guild had been mentioned around the Crow and Hammer a few times, but never in a complimentary way.
“The only guild we haven’t approached is the Grand Grimoire, but I’m sure you understand why we would avoid them.”
I nodded, even though I had not the slightest clue.
“The Crow and Hammer is our last, desperate hope.” Tears filmed Odette’s eyes. “If you won’t help us, we’ll have no choice but to forsake the missing fae and disband our coven, since we’re obviously unfit to—”
“Whoa, let’s not be hasty.” I rubbed my hands over my face to clear the alcohol haze. “Do you have any leads? Any idea what’s happening to the fae in the park?”
Brightening at this sign of cooperation, Olivia leaned forward. “We don’t have any solid theories, but our best guess is black witches.”
“Black witches …” A bad witch, I was assuming. “Humor me. What makes a witch a black witch?”
“Any witch who treats with darkfae,” Odette answered promptly. “Or witches who lie to, trick, or betray the fae they treat with.”
“Or witches who commit crimes on behalf of fae to win greater rewards,” Olivia added.
I tugged on my ponytail. “Okay … so what would a black witch want with the fae in Stanley Park?”
“Normally, I would say nothing,” Olivia replied slowly. “The smallfae are too weak and inconsequential to interest a black witch. However, we’ve found signs of a familiar hunt.”
“A familiar hunt? Familiar how?”
“A hunt for a familiar,” she clarified, her mouth creased with distaste. “Black witches often find it cumbersome to arrange an exchange of equal value with a fae, so instead they’ll hunt down a fae they think is powerful or impressive and forcefully bind it to them as their familiar.”
“But as Olivia said,” Odette continued, “the smallfae in the park are too weak to be worth hunting and binding. We’re not sure what’s going on.”
“Something is happening there. Something dreadful.”
“The black witches must be stopped.”
“The lost fae must be found, e
ven if it’s too late to save them.”
“We need your help. We need your guild.”
“We have no one else to—”
“Stop!” I pressed a hand to my forehead, my brain sloshing from their rapid back and forth. “Just stop. I need to think.”
Folding their hands, they waited.
I massaged my temples. All that energy I’d had while singing and cleaning had evaporated, and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed. Maybe throw up first, then go to bed.
“I can’t promise anything,” I finally said. “But I’ll pass it on to my guild. They’ll decide what they want to do and all that.”
Beaming, the witches swooped down on me and shook my limp hands.
“Thank you, Tori. Thank you so much!”
“We’ll eagerly await your guild’s reply.”
“The coven will be so relieved to hear the good news.”
“You can contact us at any time through the coven. Don’t hesitate to call with any questions.”
“We’ll help in any way we can. Just let us know when your guild is ready to begin the investigation!”
My head was spinning again. “Hold up. I never said we’d—”
“We won’t trespass on your hospitality any longer,” Odette gushed, still shaking my hand.
“Bless your heart, Tori. I’m so happy we came to speak with you. You are truly a woman of integrity and compassion.”
“No, I’m not—” I stammered. “I didn’t—”
Releasing me, the two witches swept toward the stairs. I scrambled off my stool and rushed after them, but by the time I got to the bottom of the steps, they were at the top, waving farewell.
“We’ll speak again soon, Tori! Thank you from the bottom of our hearts!”
And with that, they vanished through the door. Grabbing the railing for balance, I careened up the stairs and onto the stoop, but the yard was dark and empty. The sisters were gone.
Well, shit. Face scrunching, I mentally reviewed our conversation, searching for the moment when I’d promised the Crow and Hammer would take the job. Hadn’t I clearly said I couldn’t promise anything? I had said that, right?
Or had I accidentally committed my guild to investigating a case of missing fae that every guild in the city had turned down?
Oh man. Kai was going to yell at me. Aaron would laugh, but Kai … yeah, he was going to yell.
Chapter Five
I woke with the mother of all headaches—a mother headache nursing baby headaches inside my temples, and the throbbing family threatened to split my skull across my eye sockets. Groaning, I dragged my pathetic ass out of bed and swallowed back the foul taste in my mouth. Whiskey was the devil’s drink.
I made a mental note to ask the guys if demons drank whiskey. I knew nothing about the Demonica class, except, well, demons.
Too bad the guys were busy pretending I didn’t exist until MagiPol went away. And by then, I’d be out of a job, if not our friendships. That was assuming they didn’t friend-dump me for the whole witch fiasco last night.
I tried to run my hands through my curls, but my fingers got stuck in the rat’s nest. What the hell had I been thinking? I never should’ve answered the door, let alone invited the witches in, let alone encouraged them to dump all their problems in my lap. And how had they arrived at the conclusion that I’d promised my guild’s help? I really didn’t remember saying that.
Ideally, I would call the witches up, explain the misunderstanding, and brush the whole incident under the rug. Perfect solution—if I had access to the mythic database of guilds and their contact info. Which I didn’t.
Locating my cell under my pillow, I pondered the screen. Aaron was one call away … but Ezra had warned me that MagiPol liked to snoop through their phones. What if Agent Harris had Aaron’s phone right now? What if calling him led the MPD right to my doorstep?
Nope, not safe. I had only one option if I wanted to speak with the guys.
As a grin spread across my face, I checked the time—quarter to eleven. Aaron, Kai, and Ezra rarely showed up at the guild before two, usually closer to four. Lazy bums slept in later than I did, but that worked in my favor today. With a little luck, I could catch them at home.
I took a bouncing step toward my bedroom door but stopped when my head gave an extra violent throb. Trying again at a more sedate pace, I swung my door open.
A stool from the kitchen was positioned directly in front of my room. And standing on the stool was Twiggy, his solid green eyes intense. Huh?
While I stared in confusion, he drew himself up. “Slap bet!”
And then he smacked me across the face.
I reeled into the doorframe. Hand pressed to my cheek, I shrieked, “What the hell is wrong with you, you piece of green shit!”
“Slap bet!” he repeated shrilly, a delighted grin stretching his cheeks. “It’s funny, right? Humans like funny things like—”
I lunged for him. He leaped off the stool and I collided with it.
“Slap beeeeet!” he wailed, fleeing across the living room. “It’s funny!”
“No, it’s not!” I bellowed, chasing after him. “I’m going to wring your skinny neck!”
Yanking open the crawlspace door, he dove into the darkness beyond. I skidded to a stop and kicked the door shut.
“Stay in there!” I yelled. “And no more sitcoms!”
“But they’re funny!” he shouted from the crawlspace.
“You wouldn’t know funny if it hit you in the goddamn face!” Snarling and rubbing my cheek, I stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door. Curse past-Tori for her genius idea to let a faery who couldn’t grasp the most basic of normal human interactions watch sitcoms.
After a shower that was too short to put a dent in my headache, I examined my cheek and decided Twiggy hadn’t hit me hard. The hangover had merely made it feel like he’d cracked my face open. Stupid faery.
Vibrating with the need to yell at someone, I grabbed my phone and pulled up a conversation. My fingers flew over the digital keyboard as I typed a furious message.
Fae are stupid and you’re stupid and if you were a decent human being you would tell me how to get out of having a faery roommate.
I sent it and waited for a count of ten. As usual, he didn’t respond. Not that I could blame him since all I ever did was insult him. I couldn’t help it. It was cathartic, and even if he hadn’t done anything to deserve this round of abuse, karmically speaking, he still deserved it. He had a backlog of assholery to answer for.
Ten minutes and three glasses of water later—hangovers sucked, ugh—I was heading up the stairs as I adjusted the final piece of my disguise. Okay, it wasn’t really a disguise, but I didn’t want to walk around flashing my red hair at anyone who might be watching Aaron’s house.
I’d donned a lightweight sweater, its hood pulled up, and my hair was tucked under a ball cap. A pair of oversized sunglasses completed the concealment, and I didn’t even look like a weirdo since the weather had transformed from sunshine bliss to gloomy clouds. I grabbed my umbrella, just in case.
The walk to Aaron’s house took just over half an hour—not because it was far, but because I had to go around the ten square blocks of train terminal and business complex between our neighborhoods. Twitchy paranoia buzzed through me as I reached his street, lined on one side with houses while the other was a barrier of old trees that hid the aforementioned business complex from view.
I checked for any vehicles with chain-smoking detective types sitting in them—no sign of anything suspicious—then walked well past the blue cottage-style house. I entered the yard through the back alley and tried the handle. Locked.
Squatting, I pulled up the loose brick at the edge of the stoop and grabbed the spare key. After unlocking the door, I replaced the key and waltzed inside.
As I’d been doing for the better part of three months, I kicked my shoes off and set my purse and umbrella on a nearby counter, then walked into the middle of the ki
tchen. I’d been over here plenty of times, but never this early—and never unannounced.
To my surprise, the house wasn’t silent. The bass beat of music thumped through the floor, and I frowned at the door to the basement. They were up? Really? It wasn’t even noon.
I tossed my sunglasses into my purse, then cracked the basement door open, letting the music—some generic rock song with a quick beat—into the kitchen. The lights were on, but all I could see was a sliver of an unfinished room.
A polite, tactful person would’ve called down to announce her unexpected presence, but I’d never been called tactful in my life. Smirking, I padded down the stairs, paused at the bottom, then stuck my head around the corner, prepared to be shocked or possibly scandalized.
The rumpus room stretched the length of the house. One end was full of the usual basement collection of boxes, bins, and storage shelves, but the rest had been converted into a full-service gym. Treadmills, stair master, stationary bike, weight machines, free weights, and a mirrored wall. The other side had a punching bag suspended from the ceiling and thick sparring mats forming a large square. Music poured from a stereo in the corner.
Aaron was lying on a weight bench, holding a loaded barbell a few inches above his chest. Ezra stood in the spotter position, hands hovering below the bar.
Both guys were staring at me.
Right. Sneaking up on Ezra was almost impossible, despite him being half blind. With his aeromage magic, he could sense disturbances in the air caused by people moving around.
“Uh, hi?” I stepped off the last stair. “What’s up?”
“Tori, what are you doing here?” Ezra blurted.
“Oh, just … you know … passing by.” The last bit came out in a distracted mutter, because Aaron’s sculpted arms were beautifully displayed by his sleeveless shirt—every muscle taut and bulging under the barbell.
“Passing by?” Ezra repeated, his surprise melting into amusement. “Where—”
With a grunt that sounded kind of like Ezra’s name, Aaron lifted the bar about six inches, only for it to tilt dangerously to one side.
Ezra grabbed the barbell, taking its weight, and continued without missing a beat. “—were you headed that our place was on your way?”
Two Witches and a Whiskey (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 3) Page 4
