Midlife Witch Hunter (The Forty Proof Series Book 6) Page 3

  “I know that you have spoken with someone from the Dark Council today. I want to know what they told you.”

  I laughed before I could hold it in. Fuck that. I let it out completely, laughing until tears ran down my face. “Piss off, Kay.”

  Smarter than the average man, I didn’t turn my back on her. Instead, I walked backward so I could keep my eyes on her enraged face.

  The chalice in her hand cracked and crumbled until it was nothing but powder in her palm. “You defy your queen?”

  I paused at the bower opening. “I defy you, Karissa. Because you are no one’s champion. You are a goddess in your own mind and no one else’s.”

  A hiss slid past her lips, and she dusted off her hands, lightly clapping them together. I braced myself for a blow from behind or above. The whir of pixy wings had me sidestepping as Scarlett dashed into the bower and zipped around my waist.

  Before I could stop her, she shot toward my front pocket and pulled out the paper that Oster Boon had given me. The members of the Dark Council.

  Scarlett was shooting back toward her queen. “Here, I saw him tuck this away. It’s a love note from the fat one.”

  I couldn’t react, I knew that. If I reacted, and Karissa understood the importance of those names, then . . . I was well and royally fucked. Especially if she was on it. Schooling my face, I let out a heavy sigh and put my hands on my hips. “So, you want the list of people who owe me money?”

  Karissa blinked and stared at the list, frowning a little. “These people? They have all hired you at some point?”

  Fighting the urge to swallow hard, I nodded. Goddess damn me for not looking at the note sooner. “And?”

  “I’m . . . surprised, I suppose,” she said and handed the note to Scarlett, who brought it back to me, irritation written clearly across her miniscule face.

  She dropped the note, and I didn’t bend to pick it up. I could not look too eager.

  “Why a list?” Karissa asked.

  I rolled my eyes even as sweat slid down my spine. “I am making the rounds. And I would hate to forget someone.”

  “Hmm, of course.” She nodded. “Strange for a pixy to owe you money is all.”

  Fuck.

  Her eyes darted to Scarlett, and the red pixy gave a squeak. “I don’t owe him money!”

  “So why are you on that list?” Karissa purred, showing a glint of the jealous streak that had driven us apart. But in this case . . .

  Before I could stop her, Karissa swung her hand at Scarlett, her fingers gripping a tiny copper dagger I’d made her. She cut the pixy in half.

  Scarlett didn’t even have time to scream as she fell from the sky.

  I looked at my ex-wife. She looked back and smirked. “Now, tell me why those names are on that list.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Her smile widened. “I’ve seen them all, and I’ll warn them that you are coming to speak with them. How does that tickle your fancy?”

  I glared at her, knowing she had me in a bind. “They are . . . members of the Dark Council.” I bent and scooped up the paper, and flipped it open. Scarlett’s name was there in bold, next to eight others. All eight were people I knew, people I’d trusted at one point or another. Scarlett must be able to temporarily transform herself to average human size, or I would have known there was a fairy amongst the council.

  “And why do you have this list?” Karissa drew close, and her energy bounced off mine in a way it hadn’t in a very long time. For once, the woman was being sincere.

  I looked her in the eye. “I am going to kill them all.”

  Her laughter tinkled, and she gripped my arm. “Then I am coming with you, because if there is to be a true bloodbath and cleansing of our world, they must go.”

  Goddess in a poorly woven handbasket, I did not want to go galivanting around the globe with this woman. Yet Bree had to deal with having her ex-husband’s ghost live in her handbag. Perhaps I could deal with my ex-wife. Maybe I could stuff her in a handbag too. The thought made me smile, which Karissa took the wrong way.

  “Are we of an accord?” She fluttered her eyelashes up at me. “I’ll help you kill the Dark Council members?”

  I gave her a slow nod. “We are . . . of an accord.”

  Stepping back, she clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Where to first?”

  I put the list into my pocket. “We go to France to find the first witch.”

  Chapter

  Four

  BREENA

  I held the vial in my hand, staring at the deep red liquid shimmering and dancing, moving as if there were something inside of it—something other than the magic that would bring Robert back to life. Call me crazy, but I didn’t trust Karissa and her potion, even though it felt like the only hope I had to bring my friend back. He’d been killed—truly killed—in the battle against Joseph. All we had left of him were the ashes of his finger bone.

  Karissa had given me the potion to bring him back, but if I used it, there would be a cost, a high cost. I would be signing away my connection to the fae world. Including my bond with Crash. I suspected that was the real reason Karissa had given me the concoction. To keep me away from her ex-husband.

  On top of that, there was a time crunch. If I didn’t make my decision quickly, the potion would be rendered useless.

  Kinkly fluttered up the porch steps to where I sat at the very top. The old house was rickety, cold, and nothing like my gran’s place. Nothing like my home. A safe house, set aside for the witches of Savannah, it was a place to lay our heads and fill our bellies, but that was it. Nothing more. When I thought of the home we’d lost, the pain was as hot as if I’d been stabbed with a poker out of Crash’s forge. I grimaced. I did not need to be thinking about him right now. I was looking at a way to bring Robert back to life, for duck’s sake! I needed to focus. Not cry over the man who’d misrepresented himself.

  “I’m too ducking old for this shit, for moping about.” I swirled the vial, looking it over. My body was sore all over. The fight at the fort had been hard on not just my heart, but what felt like every single muscle in my body. If I didn’t get some Advil into me soon, I was going to lock up into a knot that did nothing but whimper as my muscles seized for days.

  Kinkly landed on the banister, settling herself. She winced and reached up to touch her left wing—Damian, the demon ally who’d helped us foil the Dark Council’s plan to set a horde of the undead on Savannah, had said she’d be sore for a week or two. The patch job that had been done was solid, the line clean and the stitches so tiny they looked like pinpricks. A demon had helped her, and her own queen had ignored her. It said a lot about how our alliances had shifted.

  “You think you’re too old to handle all of this? I already knew that.” She scrunched up her nose and then smiled. “I’m kidding, Bree. I think you’re exactly right for this role. You’re perfect.”

  I swirled the vial again. “If I use this on Robert’s ashes, he’ll come back to life. He’ll have knowledge about the past, we’ll be able to talk and—”

  “And you could kiss him,” she offered.

  I could kiss him again, that was a valid point. I shook my head. “That’s not the most important aspect of this decision, Kink.”

  While there had been that one kiss between us, it happened while I was technically asleep (and he was technically dead). I didn’t really think of Robert that way. He was my friend, first and foremost. And I wanted him by my side to help us face all the monsters that came our way.

  “I think it is.” She rubbed her torn wing, massaging it. “I think part of the reason you want to bring him back is because he likes you. And you like him. The two of you fit. Which is a bit weird considering he’s a skeleton most of the time. But maybe he’d help you get over Crash.”

  I looked at her, really looked at her. “Kinkly, I’d have to give up a literal part of who I am. Maybe it’s not a big portion of my bloodline, but it’s not insignificant either. And that part of me has saved my round-ish ass more than once.”

  How many times had I been able to travel to the fae realm without being trapped? Often enough that I knew I’d probably end up finding my way there again with my luck.

  She didn’t look up from massaging her wing. “I am still here to help you with fae matters. And we have Bridgette for any goblin stuff.”

  I blew out a sigh. “I know all of that. It’s . . .” How did I explain this to her? How did I get her to understand that this was more than just giving up a part of my heritage? My fae blood had allowed me to connect to Altin, an ancient fae who could very well be my grandfather. He’d helped me survive the last fight. Would giving up my fae bloodline cut me off from him?

  “I don’t think anything will help me get over Crash,” I said softly, holding out my hand in a silent invitation. “Even another man.” When she stepped onto my palm, I continued. “How would you feel if your wing couldn’t be fixed? If Damian hadn’t been able to stitch you up? If it had been there, attached to you but you couldn’t use it?”

  That stopped her and she lifted her eyes to look at me. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to fly. Are you saying you wouldn’t be able to fly? You didn’t even know you had fae blood until recently.”

  I nodded and set her on my shoulder. “Right, and maybe that’s why I’m struggling. What am I really giving up? Wings?”

  She snorted. “You do not have wings. They would never be able to lift you.” Her words slid off me, because I was already thinking about the real reason that I wasn’t sure.

  Maybe my hesitation to give up this part of me had everything to do with Crash. Everything to do with the blacksmith who’d made me want him. I still wanted him. Even though I knew it was a terrible idea. This potion was meant to push us apart as much as it was meant to bring Robert back to life. Crash had left Karissa, not the other way around, and she still wanted him. Which meant she wanted me far away from him.

  “He’s a terrible idea,” I whispered.

  Kinkly sighed. “Yeah, probably. But you still want him.” She knew exactly who I was talking about. How could she not?

  I cupped the vial in my hands and stared down into it. “Yeah.”

  Crash’s touch set me on fire, my damn granny panties about melted every time he so much as brushed a finger against me. Yet he was working for the Dark Council, in complete opposition to me. He’d tried to kidnap me, he’d taken Sarge prisoner, and then he’d fought by Joseph’s side against us. Sure, he seemed reluctant, but could I pretend those things hadn’t happened?

  Now Karissa wanted me out of his life forever. I mean, that part wasn’t really a shocker. I’d known for some time that she’d been working at getting him back in her bed. I shouldn’t hesitate. He’d declared his allegiance clearly enough, but . . .

  I closed my eyes. “Did I ever really have a chance with him, Kinkly?”

  Her wings fluttered by my ears and the fact that she didn’t answer right away had me second-guessing myself. Again.

  “I don’t know,” she finally said. “He was different around you, like he was trying to be better. You made him want to be better, I think. And he didn’t affect you the way he affects most other women. That probably had to do with your fae blood.”

  I crinkled up my nose and rubbed my face with one hand. The smell of something luscious baking in the oven had my feet moving before I could think better of it. Distractions were welcome. It would help me put off this decision a little longer.

  “Time to eat some emotions,” I said as I went down the stairs and wove my way through the old house to the kitchen. Musty, dark, broken tiles littered the floor. The walls were scarred, and an old burn mark curled up and around the ceiling. Despite all that, the oven worked, and Eric was bent over it. He turned toward me with a full tray of tarts, his lanky frame tied up in a too-small apron that said Kiss me, you fool across the front, his glasses steamed from the heat of the oven. He squinted through the glasses.

  “Bree, here. I’ve got a mixture of things, some lemon curd butter tarts and chocolate puffs.” He set the tray on the table. “Hang on, one more.”

  Two trays of tarts. I had half a mind to sit down and eat them all myself, trying to fill up that void inside of me with sugar and lard. I scooped up one lemon tart and hissed as the heat scorched me. “Too hot.”

  “Maybe Crash is like that,” Kinkly said. “Tempting, but too hot. Too much.”

  My lips quirked as I blew across the lemon filling. “Are you saying I need to blow him?”

  Kinkly laughed, and I noticed the way Eric suddenly had his back to us and started clearing his throat multiple times. I also noticed that everyone else had made themselves scarce. Everyone meaning Penny, Eammon, Suzy, Sarge, and Feish.

  “Is everyone afraid to talk to me?” I took a bite of the tart. Still on the hot side, but the sweet and sour notes of the lemon curd were perfect as they slid across my tongue and down my throat. I was going to have to work on restraining myself. These were seriously some of Eric’s best creations yet.

  “Well, they thought it might be best if you had a chance to consider your options, then discuss them with Kinkly and me.” Eric turned back to us, his face only slightly pink. He dusted off his apron, then pulled up a rickety chair and sat down.

  I popped the rest of the tart in my mouth and chewed as I considered what he was saying. “Because you’re the psychologist and Kinkly would be our only connection to the fae world if I go through with this?”

  Eric nodded. “You could wait. We could find Robert’s grave, and then he would re-animate on his own. You know that. All you had before was a finger bone, and that worked.”

  I did know that. “But where is Robert’s grave? You know I’ve walked the Hollows cemetery more than once. There’s no grave with his name on it. However statistically improbable it is, there isn’t even a Bob in there, never mind a Robert.”

  “You might never find it.” Kinkly hopped off my shoulder and flew down to the table. She selected a chocolate tart that was as big as her, pulled it off the tray, and dipped a finger into the soft center. “That’s why it’s so tempting to use the potion. I’d bet my left wing that’s why Karissa did it. She knows how hard it would be for us to find Robert’s grave.”

  A bar stool with no back stood to the left of me. I grabbed it and dragged it close so I could sit down. My back immediately twinged, cramping up and down one side so that my ribs felt like they were being squeezed in one of Crash’s vises. I reached into my hip bag and dug around until I found my bottle of Advil, pulled it out and took three out.

  I started to dry swallow them when Eric got up, took a glass and filled it with water. “Here, that’s bad for you. You should always take your pills with a drink.”

  Smothering a smile, I took the offered glass and swigged down the tepid water, washing the pills down. “Thanks, Dad.”

  He grinned and didn’t miss a beat. “You’re welcome. Someone must look out for you. You’re so ready to throw yourself into danger for others, you forget to take care of yourself. And I think that is what this decision comes down to. Not what’s good for everyone else, not what’s good for Crash or even for Robert. What’s good for you? What do you want, Bree? You should consider what you’re willing to give up, not what you think you have to give up.”

  His words started a definite tickle behind my eyes. I bowed my head and pressed the heels of my hands into the traitorous orbs. I did not want to cry. I was still covered in smoke and blood and sweat from the fight, from Gran’s house burning down, from running all over the damn place. I needed to be strong.

  “I don’t know what I want,” I answered honestly. “A few months ago, I would have said there was something special building between me and Corb. And even just a week ago, I would have told you it was Crash who held all the cards. And now Robert—”

  Eric held up his hand. “You’re missing the point, my friend. What do you, Breena O’Rylee, want? It doesn’t have to be which man you want, but what you want. Fae, or not fae, Robert or no Robert . . . I’ve watched you these last months. Part of the job, you might say,” he adjusted his bowtie and smiled down at me, “and what I see is a girl trying to fix everyone else’s problems. You’re trying to be everything to everyone. Even if you bring Robert back to life, you are not obligated to be anything more than his friend. And he is not obligated to be anything more than a friend to you. What you need to do is ask yourself some hard questions.”

  I blinked up at him. “Like what I want out of life, and not just at this particular moment?”

  His smile softened. “Now you’re onto it. You won’t figure it out all at once, but I think you should be asking yourself that question. You spent a long time with one man, who told you a lot of lies. Those lies need to be unravelled, and you need to find yourself in more ways than one.”

  I hadn’t expected him to ask me to do any self-analysis, not when I was already struggling with an ultimatum. Worse, we were running out of time.

  “Kinkly, how long before the spell expires?” I asked.

  “You have another hour,” she said as she dipped her fingers into the chocolate tart again. “An hour before it’s as dead as Robert.”

  Eric tsked at her. “That’s not nice.”

  “But it is funny,” she whispered back. “Morbidly funny.”

  I pushed to my feet. “I’m going to go get cleaned up. Thank you. Both of you.”

  With the lingering taste of the lemon tart on my tongue, I made my way through the house to the only working bathroom. My remaining friends were all in the front room where Penny had brewed up our shapeshifting potions prior to the big showdown at the fort with Joseph and the zombies. And Crash. Couldn’t forget that man even when I wanted to.

  Penny, Eammon, Suzy, Sarge, and Feish all looked at me, concern etched into their faces. Of course, Gran was there too. She moved toward me first and I waved her off. “Not right now, Gran.”

  “Child.” She still came after me. “I’ve let the bigfoot discuss matters with you, but now I want to have my say. It is no small thing to bring someone back from the dead. You have a power in your hands that you perhaps don’t realize the magnitude of.”