Midlife Witch Hunter (The Forty Proof Series Book 6) Page 4

  I didn’t doubt her. I just kept on walking, moving away from Gran. Wanting to stay oblivious to whatever she was trying to tell me.

  Don’t worry, I’d kick myself for that later. Give it a hot minute.

  Penny stopped me at the bathroom door with a hand on my arm. “I have everything ready, should you choose to go forward with this.”

  “Do you think it’s real?” I asked her. “Will this spell really bring him back to life?” Let’s be honest, Karissa had not exactly been straight with me in the past. I could see her fooling me into using a potion that wasn’t what she’d said it was.

  Penny held out her hand and I gave her the vial. She swirled it up in front of her face, close enough that she could peer into it. “It be a life giving potion for sure. I’ve only seen one before, but this looks and acts the same.”

  She handed me the vial back and I clutched it in one hand. “Thanks, Penny. I’ll . . . I’ll have a decision when I come out.”

  Her smile was gentle. “You will make the right choice, I’m sure of it.”

  The bathroom was small, with several missing tiles in the floor. I stripped and got into the shower and scrubbed my skin until it stung all over. The Advil was slowly kicking in—I really should have chased it with whiskey— and I was feeling the heavy fatigue that came with everything I’d done in the last twenty-four hours.

  Towel drying, I winced as I rubbed across new bruises and sore muscles that even the Advil couldn’t touch. The whole time I scrubbed, the question Eric had asked of me rumbled through my head. What did I want? I wasn’t sure that I’d ever asked myself that. Not really. I’d come back to Savannah hoping to regain ownership of Gran’s house, which was supposed to belong to me.

  I’d fallen into Corb’s life.

  Fallen into the job with the Hollows.

  Fallen into Crash’s bed and arms.

  But none of those had really been choices, not in the way Eric meant. “Jaysus.” I pulled on clean undies and then my work leathers, silently thanking whichever of my friends had thought to grab a few of my things out of Gran’s house after we went into hiding from Joseph. Everything else I’d owned had been destroyed in the house fire.

  Almost everything.

  I touched the dragon pendant that hung around my neck. It was a gift from my grandmother, meant for protection. Yet I seemed to keep finding trouble.

  A soft tap landed on the door. “Fifteen minutes,” Kinkly said. “Just so you know.”

  Fifteen minutes and the gift would be all used up. Was there even a choice? I was being given the chance to save a friend. Truly save him. To be honest, I didn’t really question what I should do. Mostly I was just sad at what I was going to lose. I’d needed time to come to terms with that. To grieve the certainty that whatever was between Crash and me was sliding even further out of my grasp. My fingers slipped from the pendant around my neck, and I scooped up the red vial of liquid magic Karissa had left as a temptation.

  For the life of a friend, I’d give up a part of myself.

  “What has the fae part gotten me anyway?” I whispered aloud.

  No sooner had I said the words than I got my answer. The remembered sensation of hands brushing across my skin, lips burning their way down my throat to the sensitive hollow . . . The rush of his touch was like a living thing, as if Crash stood right there behind me, reminding me of exactly what I was about to give up. I struggled to stand, hell, I even crossed my legs and squeezed tightly as I breathed through the onslaught of visceral need and heat.

  “I can’t do that anymore,” I whispered as if Crash could hear me. “I have to let you go. We are on different sides, and I can’t . . . I can’t risk my heart on a man who would betray me. On a man who can’t put me first. I lived that life for too long.”

  I stumbled as I took my first couple of steps. Then I gripped the banister as I made my way down to the main floor. I walked across the room without a word, moving between my friends to the work bench that Penny had set up.

  “Girly, you make a decision?” Penny asked, concern etched into her face. Gran stood to the left of her.

  “I’m sure she will make the right choice.” Gran smiled, echoing what Penny had said earlier.

  I smiled back. “I am too. The life of someone I care about means more than a piece of my bloodline.”

  Robert’s ashes sat in a bowl on the table.

  I uncorked the red vial and, without ceremony, poured it over the ashes of the finger bone. “Welcome back, Robert.”

  Chapter

  Five

  “Oh, for duck’s sake!” Gran exploded as the vial dripped out the last few drops onto Robert’s ashes. No, no she did not actually say duck. Which was even more shocking as the f-bomb reverberated through the room. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard her say it before. Ever.

  My eyes shot to her, jaw dropping simultaneously, and I spluttered, “What? What? Is something wrong?”

  Yup, I was that thick. Or maybe just that tired. Or a lot of things. Gran threw her hands into the air and, well, I would have said stomped off if she weren’t a ghost. There wasn’t a lot of noise, but she did float angrily out of the room, her arms swinging and her skirts swirling about her legs as she muttered to herself. There were several more ducks involved thrown out in her stomp-away exit.

  I looked at Penny. “What is she so peeved about?”

  Penny sighed, but we were interrupted by a poof of smoke from Robert’s ashes.

  The smoke was red like the liquid in the vial, and it curled up and up until it touched the ceiling in a long, thin curving line, turning in on itself as it spooled back down to the bowl of ashes. I took a step back.

  Color me cautious, but magic tended to bite at times, and I was all done with the biting for the day, thank you very much.

  The smoke thinned out further, sinking back into the ashes, and then, with a little burp that sent up a tiny poof of what was left of Robert, it disappeared altogether.

  The others drew close, everyone peering over the desk. Probably thinking the same thing that I was. Ducking Karissa had screwed me again.

  “Well, that’s disappointing,” Feish burbled. “I thought it was going to be a big bang, beautiful smoke show. Like fireworks.” She put her webbed hands to her hips and glared at the pot of now soupy, red-stained ashes.

  Kinkly fluttered across the table and peeked into the bowl. “I think maybe he just needs time? Or do we have to do something else, like bake it?”

  Eric cleared his throat. “I don’t think baking a Robert cake is a good idea.”

  I snorted. “Or Karissa deliberately ducked it up. So I’d use it, it wouldn’t work, and I’d still lose my connection to the fae realm, because a deal is a deal.” I rubbed a hand over my face. Gawd above, had I really let her dupe me again?

  Gran came stomping back into the room, her face tight even in its transparent state. “It needs a drop of your blood to finish it up. I suggest you do it quickly, or the spell will die and you won’t get your friend back.” Her eyes were narrowed, arms folded, and her face hard. Okay, so she was still pissed.

  I had no idea why she was so upset, but I believed her about the spell. My one remaining knife would have worked, but Penny had a pin cushion full of needles on the table that was more convenient. And clean. My knife was not clean.

  Strike that, she had a doll full of needles. I raised my eyebrows at her. “Can I use one, or am I going to ruin something for you?”

  Penny smiled. “He’ll appreciate it if you take one out.”

  I didn’t ask again, just pulled one of the needles free, ran it through the candle flame, and pricked my finger. Wincing, I massaged the tip of my finger until the blood welled and then held it over the bowl.

  “Sure hope this does something,” I said as the drop held for a second and then let go, plopping into the bowl.

  I was expecting something.

  I was not expecting an explosion.

  The second the drop of blood hit the soupy ashes, a concussive force blew out of the bowl, shattering the earthenware and throwing every person in the room back to the closest wall.

  Bodies hit hard, the sound of heads bouncing, and then my friends all slid down to the floor, unconscious or close to it. I, on the other hand, hadn’t been thrown away at all. If anything, my feet felt glued to the floor as I stared at the man crouched on the worktable, his back curved as he flexed his fingers against the wood. Dark head bowed, he was completely naked, his skin glistening, his muscles flicking and shivering. His back was littered with tattoos, strange marks that I couldn’t quite make out. His breath came in wind-sucking gasps.

  The smell of sulphur filled the room, like a giant matchstick had been lit, and I snorted.

  His head snapped up.

  Sharp, brilliant blue eyes locked on mine. “Bree? Is this real?”

  Before I could speak, someone else spoke for me.

  “Hey, Robert. You aren’t dead anymore,” Feish said from her spot against one of the walls. “Say thank you.”

  Robert didn’t move from his crouch but instead looked down his body. “A blanket would be nice.”

  Sarge was the first one to approach him, a blanket in one hand, the other pressed to the lump forming on his forehead. “Here you go, man.”

  Robert took it and slid it around his waist before coming out of the crouch. He slid his butt off the table, planting his feet to the floor. “What happened? I remember Joseph—”

  “And you getting killed.” Feish dusted herself off. “That’s what happened. You were dead-dead, and now you are alive because of Bree. Say thank you.”

  I just kept staring at him, partially because he was there—he was real—but also because he looked a little different than when he’d been solid before. He was . . . edgier. It was less of a coherent thought than a feeling. Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “You okay?”

  He didn’t look away from me, didn’t move, didn’t say thank you as Feish suggested. He went straight to the heart of it. “What did you have to give up? What was the deal you made to bring me back?”

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t using it anyway.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Surely not your . . .” He waved his hand at my stomach and then seemed to think better of the question.

  “She’s too old to give up her childbearing ability, you noodle head.” Kinkly snapped her wings and fluttered across the room to my shoulder. “Yes, that is typically what would be asked of her, but Karissa no doubt knew it would be more painful for her to give up something else.”

  I leaned hard to one side so I could look at Kinkly. She didn’t seem any different to me now that I’d lost my connection to the fae. “Or she knew that I can’t bear children, so it wouldn’t have been a good deal on her part.”

  Robert’s face fell. “Bree, I’m sorry. You should not have brought me back.”

  Well, that was not the response I’d expected.

  I could have been truly hurt, could have started crying. Nope, not today.

  I frowned up at him, then pressed a finger into his very solid, very trim chest, right against a tattoo over his heart. “You’re welcome, you ungrateful prick.”

  He pulled back. “Don’t touch me, Bree.”

  Don’t touch him?

  He shook his head and tried to step away from me, bumping into the table in his haste to get away.

  How was this the same guy? In my dream that wasn’t just a dream, he’d kissed me, and now he couldn’t stand a simple touch. I don’t care what anyone says, men are the flakier gender.

  “Just don’t.” He pulled his blanket tighter around himself.

  As if I were . . . what? Diseased? Not good enough?

  Double nope.

  “Fine. Whatever your issues are, you deal with them. I have my own. We have to figure out what to do to prevent a possible resurgence of vampires.” I turned and stomped out of the room with a tight throat. Here I’d thought we were going to be a team, that he’d still be my friend once he had flesh on his bones.

  Had he been using me all along? Duck me upside down, I just couldn’t believe it. He’d saved my life more than once as Robert the Skeleton. Which meant something else was going on with him. I called over my shoulder, “When you’re ready to tell me what bee is up your tight ass, you let me know.”

  We had other problems—pressing problems—and if Robert was going to be like this, then I was not going to stick around and wait for him to talk. There was literally no time. “I’m going down to Death Row if anyone wants to come. I need supplies. Robert, why don’t you get yourself reacquainted with being alive.”

  Feish slid up next to me. “Of course I’m coming. You can’t go by yourself.”

  Sarge grunted and fell in with us. “I’ll come too.”

  Fine by me. They were my friends, and I loved them, and they were obviously worried I’d get into trouble on my own. As much as I hated to admit it, they probably weren’t wrong.

  The humidity of Savannah hit me hard as we stepped out of the house, and I started sweating right away. “We could take my bike?” Sarge offered, obviously forgetting that both Feish and I would not fit on it. I shook my head, feeling the need to move my body. It was aching, the Advil working at half speed, but I needed to move.

  “No, I think walking would be good.” Because I was all twisted up inside. Robert had not only acted ungrateful, he’d been . . . distant. Damn it, he’d all but flinched from my touch, which wasn’t exactly how I’d seen it playing out. I mean, I’d thought he would at the very least hug me.

  After everything I’d lost, I figured this one thing would be okay, that I’d have my friend back.

  Even that had turned out to be a fantasy.

  “My belief in men is questionable,” I whispered.

  Sarge laughed. “You and me both, sister.” He held out a fist, and I bumped it with my own.

  “Well, I think you need to read more,” Feish burbled. “There are many, many good ones out there if those books are right. Every book, the woman finds a perfect man. Maybe he doesn’t look it, but he’s there. Usually by chapter two or three.”

  Sarge and I looked at Feish. “Those the romance books you’ve been reading?” I asked.

  “Romance education books.” She bobbed her head. “Like the ones you suggested.”

  I’d suggested she read a few Denise Grover Swank books. As in fictional books, not non-fiction self-help books.

  I looked at Sarge for help, and he just shrugged. “Shit, maybe she’s right. Maybe we’ll both find the perfect man.”

  I shot him what I hoped was a withering stare—that comment didn’t even deserve a response—and picked up speed as I strode in the direction of Death Row. Well, I took a few steps in that direction anyway . . . which was when it struck me. I had a check worth a million dollars in my bag. Payment from Roderick for dealing with his brother, Joseph. I should really put that in the bank. “Change of plans, let’s go to the bank first.”

  “You getting forgetful in your old age?” Feish asked as we crossed the street and headed toward the bank, crossing Orleans Square. “I didn’t think you were that old.”

  I glared at her. “I’m not, Feish.”

  She winked at me. “I’m teasing, friend. I know you are only middle-aged and not old-old.”

  I sighed, and on my other side, Sarge sighed heavily, mimicking me. “What’s the next step?”

  Wasn’t that the question of the day? “Deposit said check, give my friends what they’re owed, and go shopping.”

  Sarge slowed. “Really?”

  “Retail therapy is probably my best bet other than therapy from Eric, be it his advice or his cooking,” I said. “I mean, unless I want to eat my feelings?” I shook my head. “No thanks. Shopping it is.”

  “No, I mean . . . you’re giving the rest of us money?” Sarge seemed shocked.

  “That was the deal,” I said. “Wasn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. But you keep my portion. I don’t need it.”

  I looked over at him. “What do you mean you don’t need it?”

  “Long story, but I’m loaded. I do all this stuff for fun, not because I need the money.” He grinned at me.

  I stopped in my tracks and stared hard at him. “You’re . . . loaded, and you do this for fun.”

  He shrugged and looked up at the trees above us. “Werewolves are driven to find excitement and danger. I might as well do something kind of good with that drive, you know? The local pack won’t have me because I’m mostly gay, so this is the next best thing, having a group of friends who put up with me and get into trouble all the time.”

  “Well, shit. You learn something new every day, that’s what Gran always said,” I said and then stopped dead in my tracks. Gran.

  Yup, the penny dropped.

  “Oh my Gawd.” I struggled to breathe. “I could have brought Gran back to life. Her ashes . . . she was cremated. I could have brought her back instead of Robert.”

  Feish patted me on my back as I went to my knees. She was talking, but I couldn’t hear her over the white noise buzzing in my ears.

  That’s why Gran was so pissed with me. She should have just said it! Because as much as the idea of Robert was amazing, I would have picked my gran over him a thousand times.

  I struggled to breathe through the horror, finally gulping a big breath. “Duck me, she is never going to let me forget this.” And I would never forget it either. “Wait, maybe I could get another spell!”

  Sarge and Feish both just looked at me. I looked back. “What, you don’t think Karissa would want to take away another part of me?”

  “I think this spell took a lot out of her,” Feish said. “To get you away from Crash, she would do anything. But she doesn’t like you. She won’t help you get your gran back.”

  I thought about my first interaction with Karissa in the women’s bathroom, how she’d helped me do my makeup. Of course, she hadn’t known about the connection between me and Crash yet.