“Nonstop,” she said. “I wanted to prove to you I’m a good student.”
“And you’re using them right now,” I continued, rolling to one side with a groan.
“Yup,” she said. “Always. It gets easier with practice, like you said.”
“Yup.” I grabbed her arm, and she helped me up to my feet. “I think you’ll be fine. And if not… Well, I did my best. It was nice knowing you.”
“I put you in my will,” she said brightly.
Laughing weakly, I rubbed my temples, afraid to use my magic to treat my dizziness when it was my magic that had given it to me in the first place. “Don’t tell Darius you’re leaving me money. When they find your body, he’ll come looking for me first.”
She patted my back. “Don’t worry. Most of it goes to charity. Yours isn’t enough to kill for.”
“The news just keeps getting better and better,” I said, but I smiled. “Take care, keep that boundary up, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Hopefully,” she said.
“Hopefully.”
I left most of my things in my room so the others would know I hadn’t left for good, then snuck out to the Jeep just as the sun was going down. Without turning on the lights, I took the private drive back to the highway, glancing periodically in my rearview mirror for pursuit. In a show of Darius’s skill, nothing suggested a magical barrier surrounding the property, but I suspect he felt the moment I passed through it.
As soon as I reached Highway 1, I flicked on my lights, took a deep breath, and floored it.
The burst of freedom was delicious but short-lived. After about two miles, I pulled over into a turnout, the Pacific a wild, white-capped beauty below to my right, and got out of the car. If I took three steps away from my bumper, I’d fall right off the cliff into the rocky surf.
Crystal’s body had been found nearby, but that wasn’t why I’d stopped there. I’d stopped because it should’ve been far enough to see—
Yes. There. And there. Below on the rocks, here on the cliff, up there in the eucalyptus trees, across the highway in the grassland, even a few feet away in the scraggly brush.
Fairies, fairies, everywhere. The sun had just fallen behind the sea, casting pink and purple stripes into the sky. It was their time, their world, and they were out in force, together and apart, enjoying it. Singing and dancing, flying and singing.
I’d parked closer to the edge of the cliff than I liked, given how many fae were swarming—most around me now were small, flying fairies—so I got into my car and carefully returned to the road. The revolt in Silverpool had been a local uprising, triggered by isolated witch and changeling violence, but I’d felt vulnerable ever since.
They didn’t love us, the fae. Human children were adorable, sure—but big adult witches with stinking, polluting, noisy vehicles? They might be tempted to roll my wheels a few feet in the wrong direction.
I got back in the car and drove south to the nearest small city, Fort Bragg, where I stopped at a BBQ place and got a double cheeseburger with avocado, a side of sweet potato fries, and an extra-large cup of iced tea, thinking about how much Nathan might have enjoyed a burger too. Eating in my front seat, I began the drive to Silverpool. With each mile, I felt both relief to be getting away from Hawk Ranch and reluctance to leave Birdie and a mystery behind. I would be back in the morning. I would get up early and come right back.
It was around nine thirty when I finally drove over the Silverpool Bridge and up the narrow, pitch-dark road to my house.
Birdie’s old bungalow, now Seth’s, was well lit and inviting, and for a moment I thought of the fairy house I’d seen on the log on the beach, cozy and welcoming.
I parked in my driveway and walked directly to Seth’s. I paused at the door, wondering if he already knew I was there before I rang the bell.
The door swung open. “Did you save any fries for me? I’m starving.” His toothy grin flashed. “I may be fairy born, but this body is all man. As you well know.” Another grin.
To my embarrassment, I had to fight the urge to give him a hug. For whatever reason, however foolish, I was relieved to see him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Random came running from inside the house with a huge smile on his face and began wiggling and spinning around my legs, thwacking my shins with his tail.
My heart swelled with pure, shameless joy to feel his fur under my fingers again. I looked up at Seth and caught him smiling at my dog.
“How did you know I’d had fries earlier?” I asked. His powers were a mystery to me.
He pointed at my shirt. I looked down, already dreading what I would see.
Yes, indeed. While I’d been eating in the car, a single fry had made a jump for it and landed on the shelf of my chest. There it still clung, assisted by a glob of ketchup.
As if obeying an order, Random leapt up and licked it off.
“Come on in,” Seth said. “I’ll make us both a drink. I’ve got a hard cider from Sebastopol. Or would you rather have an herbal tea?”
I walked in and closed the door behind me. The house smelled like lavender, fresh-baked bread, and a cloudless blue sky in early summer. In my experience, young guys living alone smelled more like dirty laundry and spilled beer, so I was impressed even though I knew he was lake fae at heart. After a few days locked up with witches and an unidentified demon, it felt good to be in fairy company again.
But then I realized he’d offered me tea, and I got suspicious. “You’ve never offered me tea before,” I said warily.
He paused in the doorway to the kitchen, which was right off the front entry. “You’ve never been to my house before.”
I stared at him, trying to determine if he was as innocent as he looked. “I just started drinking tea this morning,” I said. “After an incident with a bad can of coffee.”
He nodded, continuing into the kitchen. “My powers are very limited at the moment, Alma. Like many humans, I choose herbal tea in the evenings because it doesn’t have any caffeine.”
I watched him fill the kettle with water from a pitcher. “Is there anything funny about that water?” I asked.
He put the kettle on the stove, turned it on, looked at me. “You’re not the easiest guest I’ve ever had.”
“The water,” I repeated. “Where’s it from?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll make the tea, and then you tell me.”
“I’ll have the cider.” I squatted down to scratch Random’s neck; he leaned into me, eyes rolling back and tongue hanging out.
Seth got a bottle out of the fridge, poured it into a pint glass, and put it on the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair next to it and patted the cushion on the seat. “Sit. You can pet Random while you drink. I’ll get you some hummus and crackers to go with it.”
“No, I’m fine.” The greasy meal was still heavy in my stomach, but I was perfectly capable of enjoying the cider.
He made the tea and came over, sitting across from me with a steaming mug. Something about the partial smirk on his lips made me study the steam, the liquid, the mug itself.
I reached out and hooked my finger through the handle to pull it toward me. I leaned over it. Sniffed, then inhaled deeply.
Wellspring water. No wonder he was acting so perky.
“Where’d you get springwater this time of year?” I asked.
Shrugging, he reclaimed the mug. “It’s October. We had a little rain yesterday.”
“Not enough to flood the river.” I took a long swig from my cider, savoring the special kind of sustenance that nonmagical humanity could provide. “And since when do you drink wellspring water? You got upset with me when I gave you some. Even though it saved your life. That is, I saved your life. For the second time. Which, by the way, wasn’t the last.”
He brought the mug to his lips and sipped, eyeing me darkly over the rim. “Nice to know you’re keeping track.”
<
br /> I took another long drink. It was good cider, sweet but strong. “Somebody has to.” I thought of Raynor pressuring me to go to the house party because of him. What I was risking—what Birdie was risking—mixing up with murderers and demons.
He sipped the tea, swishing it around in his mouth with obvious pleasure. “I got you a present.”
“What?”
“A gift. I even wrapped it.” Nostrils flaring, he breathed in the steam from his mug and let out a long, contented sigh. “It’s a shame you’re not capable of enjoying wellspring water as much as the fae. It really is an amazing substance. I wish I could share the feeling with you.”
“So you’ve given up fighting the urge to drink it?” I asked. He’d once told me his fairy mother had warned him against becoming addicted, like many fae.
“I was wrong to be afraid,” he said. “I’ve decided it’s really good for me.”
“And you can quit anytime you want to.”
“But why would I want to?” He drained the mug, banged it on the table, and jumped to his feet. “Time to get your gift now. Stay right there.”
He strode out of the kitchen, his sneakers squeaking on the tile. Random sat up, watching him go, looking at me to see if I’d follow.
“I’m staying right here,” I mumbled, scratching him behind the ears. “Right where he put me.”
A moment later Seth came out with a black velvet bag about the size of a very small pizza tied with a blue-green ribbon. His grin had entered danger territory—fully self-satisfied, unwavering, predatory. “Consider this merely a small down payment on my life debt to you, which, of course, can never be repaid.”
I stared at the bag. Hand trembling, I set down my pint glass.
The velvet kept the magic from seeping out, so I could only make a guess based on the shape, the noise (a soft thud) it made as Seth set it on the table, and the never-ending smirk on his face.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked softly.
“Happy birthday.” He pushed it toward me with a rigid fingertip. Unlike witches, he wore no jewelry, not even a watch. Only dark hair dusted his skin.
I picked up the bag, felt the weight, the curved metal inside. It had been in my possession long enough for me to recognize it without question.
The torc.
“How did you get this?” I asked. It was an obvious question, and I didn’t expect him to answer truthfully. He’d been dishonest about it before.
“Your father had it,” Seth said.
“I know that. I gave it to him.”
“He didn’t want to keep it,” Seth said. “It was too dangerous to keep around, what with the Protectorate looking for it.”
“I was willing to hold on to it for him, but he was quick to take it from me,” I said.
“For a price.” He reached over and scratched Random’s back.
“What did you give him?”
“It’s bad manners to ask how much a present cost,” he said.
“Your human parents couldn’t have left you that much money,” I said. “Or did your apple orchard have a gold mine underneath?”
The torc would’ve netted a fortune on the black market. Liking to stay liquid, my father would’ve wanted cash, not abstract, unmeasurable, nontransferable magic from a fairy.
“Actually, I got quite a lot for my orchard from an investor looking to start another boutique winery,” he said. “He cut down the apple trees as soon as the deal went through. It sucks, but I can’t do much about it now, seeing as I’ll die if I leave this town. Although—” He picked up his mug and turned back to the counter.
“Although what?”
He turned the stove back on, saying nothing.
We had all night to talk, and I’d get it out of him eventually. I picked up the bag, untied the string, and pulled it open. Glowing from its own light, the torc rested in the black velvet like a luminescent creature of the deep sea. Warm magic twisted skyward, spiraling around my cheek, brushing my hair.
“You used it to get your wellspring water,” I said.
“I had to make sure it worked.” He poured water into his mug, skipping the tea bag altogether this time, and came over with a distracted smile on his face. The springwater was steaming into his face, softening his features, ironing away the cocky grin.
“How much water did you get?” I asked.
“There’s really no limit,” he said. “I go there whenever I run out. The fae are happy to see me coming and clear out the brambles faster than you’d believe. I don’t really need them to do that, but I appreciate the gesture.”
“You share with them?”
“Of course I share,” he said. “I’m not a fiend.”
I snorted. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Maybe before I was, when the rightful owner of this body was still roaming the earth.” He gazed into the cup, his expression sobering. “But he rejected my offer and is now no more. I can enjoy what life I have left. In fact, I’ve decided it’s a moral imperative.” Still staring at his mug, he lifted it and drank deeply.
“Have the healing properties changed, now that you’re more human?” I asked.
“Am I more human?”
“I have no idea what you are. That’s why I’m asking.”
“I was supposed to die,” he said. “And someday I will, which before… before was unlikely. That’s all I know.”
“But your powers. Are you like a witch, or a demon, a fairy—?”
“Yes,” he said. “And no.”
I lifted my glass to drink more, saw it was empty, and banged it on the table in frustration. “What kind of magic can you do? I saw you disappear. Is that your only trick?”
The empty glass was suddenly replenished with fresh cider.
“No,” he said.
I pushed the glass away and grabbed the mug out of his hand. “I give up. Give me the good stuff. I’m going to need it. We’ve got a long night.”
“You may have noticed I didn’t ask you why you’d come home early,” he said. “Or why Birdie wasn’t with you.”
I had noticed, but he’d always been secretive, and I didn’t like playing games. “How much do you know about what’s been happening at the Hawk party?”
“I don’t know anything, but I can guess.”
“This should be good,” I said. “Let’s hear it. What’s your guess?”
“Something bad happened. Bad enough to make you drive on mountain roads at night, which probably means somebody died.”
I lifted his mug of wellspring water and, sighing in resignation, took a long drink. It gave me a faint rush of warm, healing energy. “Correct,” I said. “What else?”
“You think Birdie is in some kind of danger, which is stressing you out. But it couldn’t be that bad, or you would’ve found a way to make her come with you.”
“Come on. How…?”
He took the empty bottle of cider, spun it on the table. “You’re here, safe and sound. She’s not. Why would you care about what happens to the other witches?” He spun the bottle faster. “You don’t owe them anything. You weren’t there long enough to develop attachments, unless—”
He slapped his hand over the bottle, stopping it in midspin.
“Unless what?” I asked.
“The Protectorate sent another agent. One of your friends?” He began to resume spinning the bottle, but I reached out and took it from him before I lost my temper and smashed it over his head.
“You’re right,” I said. “None of the witches are allowed to leave during the investigation. I got an exemption.” I looked down at Random, who had rested his chin on my knee as I patted him. His big brown eyes were better than wellspring water. “I have to go back first thing in the morning.” I spoke softly, apologetically. Random looked sad already.
“Don’t you want to know how I knew you were worried?” Seth asked.
I didn’t break my gaze from Random’s. “Because I showed up days early, after dark, and had visible fa
st food stuck to my body.”
Seth laughed. “You’re not impressed by my powers of deduction?”
“You’re a fairy. For all I know, you can read my mind.”
He got up and walked toward the counter. “I wish.” After pouring himself another mug of steaming springwater, he returned to the table. “What do you think I can help you with? The truth is, Alma, I’m weak. I don’t know what I can do for myself, let alone you. It’s actually very depressing. I’ve turned to meditation, trying to accept the lameness of my new normal.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“Not very well.” He held up his mug in a toast. “But this is helping a lot.”
As he drank, the color did seem to return to his face, the sparkle to his eyes. I wondered if his longevity away from home might be extended by bringing the wellspring water with him or if drinking it now made him more dependent, more tied to Silverpool.
That would have to wait. Right now I needed his knowledge of the past more than his capabilities in the future.
“So, I need to know more about demons,” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Those guys again,” he said, rolling his eyes. “To tell you the truth, after a lifetime of being mistaken for one, I’d kind of rather move on.”
“I don’t care what you’d rather do. As we’ve established, unfortunately for both of us, moving on is exactly what you can’t do.”
“You really know how to hurt a guy.”
“I wish,” I said.
He laughed. “All right, you want to know about demons.” He said it with a funny voice, as if the idea was theoretical.
“You can’t fool me. I’ve seen them myself. In captivity, but real.”
“The creature you think of as a demon certainly exists, all right. But they’re not the only ones,” he said. “Your bosses at the Protectorate have a limited view of the world.”
“They’re not my bosses.”
Hex at a House Party Page 19
