by Cate Corvin
I needed knowledge, and I needed back-up. Joss wasn’t capable of walking further than twenty feet into the deadside without his memories flying away like birds, and I didn’t want to be responsible for dragging a friend into something as sinister and strange as this.
Nor did I want to admit this weakness in front of Joss.
My other choice was to ask the mirrorwalker covens, possibly my cousin Dominic from Steelblood, who’d been one of my father’s best apprentices, or Adrian and Vivienne Wolfe… or I could return home to Bellhallow and see what knowledge I might find there.
At least I had no doubt any longer: Mom’s spirit was searching for me. But was she searching of her own volition? It was possible for spirits to be subsumed and corrupted by more ancient and powerful souls, ones who had climbed up from the depths of Death.
If I called on the Blacks, the twins would be an excellent offense on the liveside, but they could barely make it through the surface of a mirror.
Not to mention I didn’t much like the idea of Sophia being responsible for watching my back, nor did I want them reporting to their patriarch that I was unable to handle a single spirit by myself.
As I told Eric what had transpired, his brows drew together until he was scowling, the storm imminent. He couldn’t forbid me from mirrorwalking again, but he would definitely be strongly opposed to it.
He knelt in front of me, touching my icy hands and cheek, where a large purple welt was rising.
“It’s possible that another spirit has subjugated Rosalind’s,” he said. There was no way to soften the blow of it. We both knew spirits cannibalized each other for their strength. The centipede-spirit could have consumed Rosalind, growing stronger for it, now able to manipulate Rosalind’s memories and voice… as well as the roses.
But it seemed unlikely, given one thing. “She spoke in the dead tongue,” I said. If she had consumed Rosalind, then she would have been capable of speaking to me in a way I would understand. “So she can’t be imitating Rosalind’s spirit. And I can’t imagine why my own mother would send a spirit to pull me in further.”
She’d taught me herself, pounding the rules into my head over and over again. Never go deeper into Death. It was a rule designed to keep mirrorwalkers alive.
I couldn’t bring any other witches into this. That left the hidden knowledge, answers likely hidden in my family’s enormous library, in some dusty old tome that hadn’t been cracked in years…
“You were right,” I said, my voice small. “We need to go back to Bellhallow. I need to look in Father’s library.”
Or the study. I tried to push the thought away, but it stuck in my mind like a thorn. My father had kept some of the more dangerous occult tomes in his study, quick to hand. I hadn’t entered that room since the night they’d died.
Eric breathed a heavy sigh, plucking the empty teacup from me so he could clasp my hands fully in his. His skin was so brown against mine, warm and alive against the faded coolness of my own. I tried to tell myself I was shaking from the adrenaline letdown, and not the feeling of his tattooed fingers wrapped around mine.
“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” he said, catching my gaze. I wished Cecily would stop staring at us. “But it’s our best chance. I can’t let you lose this fight, Morena.”
I looked back into his eyes, the warm ebony that had never seen the other side of the mirror, never been haunted by what they saw there. Gazing into his eyes felt pure, in a way. Death left a deep and indelible mark on all of its travelers.
I wondered what he saw when he looked into mine.
“We need to leave tonight,” I said. Bellhallow was a day’s drive away, nestled deep in the foothills of a forest far from prying eyes. I pulled back from him, shoving away a twinge of regret. Keeping our distance from each other was for the best. “Cecily…”
She clasped her hands together, knuckles white and strained. She probably hadn’t followed any of the conversation, but she had figured out one thing. “You’re leaving me here?”
Fear made her voice a thin thread. I racked my brains. She couldn’t accompany us to Bellhallow. I was barely ready to step foot inside my ancestral home by myself, let alone with a clinging mortal stranger who depended on us. If Eric didn’t mind…
“Would it bother you if she stayed here?” I asked. As my servitor, his house was sacred ground, protected against both witches and spirits. No other coven would step foot on his property without his express permission.
“Of course not,” he said. “Whatever gets us home sooner.” I wanted to crumple with relief. I fished my phone from my pocket, where it was miraculously unbroken, and pulled up Joss’s number, my fingers hesitating over the keys. How much did I want to trust him?
I decided to let the cards fall where they would.
I’m having spirit troubles and we’re going back to Bellhallow.
Joss arrived within the hour, waiting patiently on the porch for Eric to invite him over the threshold. For a moment, I thought Eric would turn him away, judging by the chilliness etched on his face, but he relented and waved Joss gruffly through the front door.
The firewitch stepped in, his eyes zeroing in immediately on Cecily, who was still huddled on the couch. “What’s happening here?” he asked.
“Long story short, I met my match.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of my tone. “We’ve got a named spirit on our hands.”
“Fuck. Yeah? What’d you name it?” Joss asked. Both men looked at me curiously.
The spirit was disgusting, a walking open gash surrounded by writhing hands… “Vag Hands. Like jazz hands, but with a giant vagina in the middle. Get it?” I waved my hands in the air.
Eric rolled his eyes skywards. “Mor… for one day in your life, can you afford witch tradition the respect it deserves?”
I dropped my hands. “You know the answer to that.”
“I’m not calling a spirit ‘Vag Hands’.”
“Witch who sees it, names it. I’m not the one who made the rules.”
Joss started laughing, which only got harder at Cecily’s confused and alarmed expression. “Okay, fine, we dub this spirit Vag Hands. When are you leaving?”
Eric and I exchanged a glance. “Tonight. Cecily’s staying here, but… can I just talk to you outside for a sec?”
All my worldly possessions were either on my body, in my backpack, or in the van. I grabbed Joss’s hand, trying to not notice the tingles that shot through my arm, and dragged him out the front door as Eric headed upstairs. “I’m sorry to vanish again so soon after the radio silence,” I started, but Joss stopped me. He hadn’t released my hand.
“It’s a named spirit, Mor. Do what you have to do. But I’d feel better about it if you let me come with you.” His voice went gruff, and those blue eyes were fixed on me in a way that had a flush rising in my cheeks. Me, blushing over Joss…
“You don’t have any petitions to take care of?”
He shrugged easily, glancing at the junker parked in Eric’s driveway. “Nothing the matriarch can’t handle on her own. I’m here for you.”
I considered my options. It felt almost like old times, the way we’d been inseparable, but the new, exciting layer to our friendship made the choice to bring him seem much weightier. I wasn’t just inviting a friend into my old home, but someone with a keen, open interest.
“Then… when we get there, I’ll open the waystone.” I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the decision. “It’ll be just like old times, I guess.”
Joss touched my face, hesitant at first, and growing bolder when I didn’t immediately pull away. He traced my cheekbone, the line of my jaw, and finally wound a dark curl around his finger. “Just like new times, Mor,” he murmured. “Call me when it’s open. I’ll be waiting.”
He leaned forward until there was only a breath between us, then pressed his lips to mine. Desire shot through me in a beckoning spiral and I pushed against him, threading my fingers through his hair and finding his broad shoulders.
<
br /> Joss broke away first, his eyes glittering as he looked down at me. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, leaving a sheen that made me want to nip at him. “See you at home,” he whispered roughly, and strode away. Eric appeared on the porch with a duffel bag as Joss roared away on the motorbike.
“I left money for Cecily and a number to reach us.” His dark eyes followed Joss as the warlock vanished, then turned to me. It was impossible to tell what his emotions were towards him, but I wanted Eric to care.
I followed Eric to the van, my stomach sinking like a brick as I imagined the journey ahead.
A whole day locked in the van with Eric. No barriers between us. Nowhere to run.
And all the emotion, long buried, coming back from the dead once more.
10
I spied Warden Stone ticketing a hedgewitch on our way out of Ashville, which gave me the perfect opportunity to roll down the window, shove both hands out, and flip him the bird.
“You can shove your notice up your ass!” I shouted. The tool just glared at me, frowning as he took in the direction we were going until we were out of sight.
We drove right into a sprinkling of rain. The sun was low in the sky, painting the canopy of the forest with shades of burnished gold, and the smooth sides of the highway gave way to sharper ravines and gullies.
A flash of white caught my eye- Good Kitty sat on a boulder looming next to the highway, his tail flicking as he jumped down and into the forest. My eyes followed him until he disappeared. Whose familiar was he, and what the hell did they want?
My phone chimed and I forced myself to open and read the message sedately.
Let me know when you’re home. I’ll be there as soon as I can XO
My throat tightened. Joss was going to help me out whether I wanted it or not- but I found that I did want it. It wasn’t natural for a witch to work alone and friendless.
Eric’s brow knit as he glanced at my phone and the sudden happiness on my face.
“Joss Thorne proposed a handfasting to me,” I said suddenly, wanting to fill the silence between us. “Edgar Black wants to adopt me. And even the Wolfe coven has sent someone around- Adrian. The one Mom had talked about arranging a handfasting to.”
Eric was quiet, but his hand tightened infinitesimally on the wheel. “I figured as much,” he said, unsmiling.
“I declined Joss’s offer.” I wanted him to meet my eyes, to see the sincerity there. Part of me was ashamed for craving his approval so deeply, but at the same time it made sense… Eric was as much a part of me as my family had been- closer, in some ways. “It’s probably good to renew some old friendships and reach out to other covens, though. I don’t know, Eric… I feel happier than I have in a long time.”
He seemed to brighten a bit, the line of his mouth not quite so severe. “That’s what matters, Mor. We left so you could heal, not spend your whole life depressed and full of self-blame. Joss has always been a good guy, so if you think he’s on the level now…”
I wished my heart wouldn’t beat so fast at his approval. I thought I’d crushed my feelings for him years ago, when I’d accepted that Eric would be my vassal and protector, nothing more, until my death or his.
Being sworn to me couldn’t force him to feel anything more than that. It was family honor and obligation. A promise to his best friend to keep his lineage whole. That was all.
I fell silent again, at least marginally more cheerful. Eric’s chilly silence had warmed into a comfortable one, and at least I didn’t have the question of Joss’s Melinda-orchestrated proposal between us.
But I couldn’t lie about what I was starting to feel for Joss. I was about to pop that comfortable silence like a bubble.
“Joss’s offer is still on the table,” I said quietly, looking out the window. “I thought it was just a crush left over from our teen years, but… maybe it’s something more. I like being around him. You know, in more than a friendly way. Guess I’ve changed more than I thought.”
A hint of a grimace returned to his stoic features. “As long as you’re happy,” he said, “I’m happy.”
“Is it really that easy for you?” I asked, finally looking at him dead-on. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Of course,” he said, his voice cool, but his eyes warm as he glanced at me. The golden flecks danced in them in spite of his serious expression. “That’s all I want, Morena. To see you happy and whole again.”
If he had never loved me romantically, why did he become so stormy when other witches came near me, or when I told him I might finally like Joss as more than a friend? He couldn’t hold me at arm’s length while keeping me to himself. I understood his dedication to serving the Bell coven, but if he didn’t want me, then one day he would have to let me find happiness with another.
I pushed my irritation away. Once upon a time, my love for him had been made clear, and he’d wanted nothing to do with it.
He had no right to be angry over my choices now.
“You’re going to have to be nice to him, Eric,” I said. “He’s going to meet us in Bellhallow- which will make me happy.”
I was sure I saw my servitor fully scowl out of the corner of my eye.
We refilled the van’s tank at a tiny gas station and continued on until true night had fallen, while I spent my time in the back of the van, straightening the gnarled plastic bins and our dirty rucksacks of random gear. It was a shallow excuse for avoiding Eric’s too-close presence.
The sprinkle of rain had become a slow and steady downpour by the time we pulled off the highway into the parking lot of a small, ramshackle hotel. The neon signs flashed Vacancy overhead through the sluice of water on the windshield.
Eric pulled the keys from the ignition. “It’s not ideal, but I’m not making you sleep outside or in the van.”
I chewed my lower lip as the sign flickered out and came back on. “I mean… we’ve got blankets back there. It could be like a spontaneous camping trip…” I trailed off as Eric gave me the kind of look I knew better than to argue with.
“I’ll get the room key.”
I drew my legs up onto the seat as he strode out into the front office. Now I could add ‘sleeping in tiny spaces next to Eric’ to the list of things threatening to give me a stress-ulcer.
Why now? Why, after all these years of discipline, could I not keep up the walls around Eric? I’d already humiliated myself once, which was more than enough for a lifetime.
It was probably because of all the witches and warlocks walking back into my life on top of the stress of needing to return home. Knowing that the covens had a definite interest in me had made it clear that I’d completely neglected my life on the romantic front. Since leaving Bellhallow, I hadn’t bothered dating when the only person I’d wanted was unattainable… not to mention the fact that humans rarely wanted to be in such an intimate situation with a witch.
How different might everything have turned out if Joss had spoken up before? Would our friendship have naturally become something more, or would I have run from him, too? Maybe I’d needed to be lonely and hurt to see what I could have had.
Eric returned to the van, interrupting my circling thoughts. Please Hecate, if you care about my wellbeing at all, let it be a double room.
“One bed,” he said. “You take it. I’ll take the couch.”
“No way. You drove all day.” I unbuckled and climbed over the seat to grab our backpacks. “I’m good with a couch, Eric, you know I can sleep anywhere.”
He parked the junkmobile in front of our room, number 24, and we dashed inside, holding our backpacks up as makeshift umbrellas.
My curls were a sopping-wet mess and my shirt was clung to me like a second skin by the time we got in. And it was so much worse than I’d anticipated.
Not only were the floors, walls, and bedding all shades of 1990s hunter green and mauve, but there was no couch, and the bed was a full.
Fuck. But not literally, because that would be far too kind of the universe
to actually allow to happen.
I dropped my backpack on a small end-table and dug out dry clothes and my toothbrush. “Um… do you want to shower first?”
Eric shook his head. Unlike me, he was pulling out salt, iron nails, and a folded silk cloth to drape over any mirrors.
“I can do the warding, Eric.” Without thinking, I placed my hand on his forearm. “Seriously, I insist. If you’re going to drive us to Bellhallow, then I handle the wards.”
“Stop trying to take over my job duties,” he said. “The position is filled. Go shower or I’ll drag you into it.”
Well, now. That was one method of getting clean I wouldn’t argue with. “Would you really?” I asked, temporarily dazzled by the mental image of Eric tearing my clothes off… and not paying attention to just how enthusiastic I sounded about that idea.
He glanced at me and I flushed, grabbing my clothes off the bed. “Just kidding! Kidding. Ha-ha.”
Hecate fuck me. I was no longer a troublesome teenage girl with delusions of anything between us. I could keep my hands to myself.
I just couldn’t keep my thoughts locked inside my head where they belonged. Unfortunately, every depraved fantasy I had of Eric becoming more than my servitor liked to broadcast itself in high-def when I should be focused on other things.
I flicked salt at the mirror and dragged the silk over it before I showered, combing my fingers through my curly hair after I dried off. My stomach seemed to be riding a rollercoaster as I considered what was to come shortly after we’d gotten ready for bed, which was…
Absolutely nothing. We’d have to share this tiny bed, because there was no way in hell I was allowing my most faithful guardian to sleep on the damn floor, and I already knew he’d tie me to the bed before he’d allow me to sleep on the floor, so…
I stretched out and crossed my arms behind my head, staring up at the ceiling as the water ran.
Eric walked out of the bathroom, drying his face and hair with a towel, and I got a tantalizing eyeful of his powerful arms and torso, his occult tattoos linked from his shoulders down over his chest and back.
