Black Arts, White Craft by Hailey Edwards

13

Ileft gray powdery footprints behind as I padded into the bathroom and cranked the shower to boiling. I let the steam clean my lungs and scrubbed the zombie off my skin and from my hair. Then I stood there, an ungoddessly amount of time, just trying to screw my head on straight.

It almost worked. I nearly found my Zen. But then a black mass scuttled across the shower curtain, and I screamed bloody murder, flinging a spell to zap the holy Hael out of whatever zombie critter had found me. I didn’t want to touch it, so it wasn’t much, but the creature screamed and slammed against the cabinet.

A cold breeze swept into the room as someone wrenched the door open, banging the knob off the wall.

“Zombie,” I yelped, expecting Clay to be my savior. “Where did it go?”

“It’s not a zombie,” Asa assured me. “It also shouldn’t be in here.”

He snapped out a command in a language that hurt my ears, and scuttling noises clicked on the tile.

Curtain fisted in my hand, I leaned around the edge and watched as a black…thing…made its exit.

“What is that?” I cringed from the sight of it. “What was it doing in here?”

“It was crisht’na.” He scanned the room, minus the shower, giving me my privacy. “They’re like crabs.”

“They?”The fabric crinkled in my hand. “There are more of them?”

“I counted three.” He kept his gaze away from me. “They’re a common species of subdaemons.”

“And they’re in here because…?”

“They smelled the gore.” He backed through the doorway. “And a challenger is in the woods.”

“Hold up.” I cut off the water. “I thought they didn’t bother you on cases.”

“They’re free to challenge me at any time, but they know I won’t retaliate on the clock.”

“You’re meeting with them?” I grabbed my towel and started drying. “Now?”

Sure, his wounds had healed, but Asa wasn’t fully recovered from his ordeal. That would take days.

Attention on the knob in his palm, he began to shut the door. “Yes.”

Desperate to keep him talking, I raked fingers through my wet hair. “How often does this happen?”

“Once or twice a week.”

Once or twice…a week? “How have I never noticed a strange daemon lurking in the woods?”

A wry twist found his lips. “There’s a reason why I handle perimeter checks alone.”

“You’re making yourself an easy target.”

“The first meet is an introduction,” he countered. “They challenge me, I accept, they leave.”

“When do you honor your agreement?”

“Once a case is done, I summon my challengers and clear the board before the next assignment.”

Wrapping the towel around my torso, I stepped out. “What happens to your challengers?”

Averting his gaze, Asa entered the bedroom then faced the door to the hall. The fact he had pressed me against that door earlier left me flushed from more than the steam.

But crabs.

Daemoncrabs.

In the bathroom.

With me.

I was not okay with that.

However, I was fine with Asa guarding the door while I tugged fresh clothes on in a rush.

“Asa?” I stomped on my boots after turning them upside down and giving them a good shake to be sure I wasn’t about to get my toes pinched. “What happens to your challengers?”

“The fight is to the death.” He rested his forehead against the wood. “Does that bother you?”

Walking up behind him, I pressed my palm to the center of his back. “Only if you lose.”

The supernatural world had rules. Most were common sense laws. Some were more colorful. Either you followed them, or you died horribly. Dominance fights were essential to establishing hierarchy in all shifter cultures. Most of the time, those brawls ended in submission, but death was always a possibility.

From the sound of it, daemon culture wasn’t so different from gwyllgi and wargs in that respect.

“I won’t lose.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes burnt crimson and ravenous. “Not for a long while yet. Not for centuries. Not for millennia.” He twisted until his back hit the wood. He faced me then, my hand on his chest. Gripping my wrist, he placed my open palm over his heart. “I would fight for you…forever.”

“You have no brakes, do you?” Unable to tune out his heart, I was drugged by its quickening beat. “You just keep stomping on the gas.”

“I’m old.” He stroked his thumb up the inside of my wrist. “Older than you might realize.”

“Is this the part where you tell me you’ve waited for me your whole life?”

“You just did it for me.”

“You don’t even know me.” I laughed, and yeah, it sounded a bit crazed. “How can you be so sure?”

As drawn as I was to him, I imagined the moth to a flame phrase was coined for idiots like us.

Fire bad. Danger ahead! Do not pass go. Here be dragons.

And yet—I smelled smoke. I was dancing so close to the flame I was working on my tan.

“The more time we spend together, the more certain I am.”

All I knew for sure was I didn’t want him to die, and I probably would lick his horns if he asked me.

“I should go.” He stepped into my space to reach the knob behind him. “This won’t take long.”

“I’m going with you.”

He blinked at me, I blinked at him. He hadn’t expected me to say that, clearly. Well, neither had I. So, ha!

“Your presence signifies we are fascinated with each other. Word will spread.” Muscles in his jaw flexed. “My father will hear of it.”

“I hate to break it to you, Hairnado, but if your father goes around chopping off hands that touch your pretty, pretty hair, then he already knows about us. I would be willing to bet that played into why you slapped a bracelet on me so fast. You wanted me to be able to play with your hair without repercussions. I appreciate that, by the way. I’m attached to my hands, and yes, I do mean that literally.” I stared up at him, challenging him. “If he knows that much, he knows I’m invested in you not kicking the bucket.” That last part made his expression go soft. “I have a haircare line to perfect, and you’re my guinea pig, okay?” I got back on track. “I’m going with you, and you can’t stop me.”

“So fierce.” He brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “There’s no coming back from this.”

The bracelet was his declaration of intent, but this…this would be mine. “I’m good with that.”

Even if we went nowhere as a couple, or whatever, I didn’t want to see him get hurt. He was a good guy, a good agent. And his hair was so pretty. No one with hair that pretty deserved to die.

Reaching behind him, I palmed his hand where it rested on the knob and opened the door. “After you.”

A smile twitching his lips, he dipped his head and entered the hall. I trailed behind him, texting Colby a heads-up I would be doing a perimeter check with Asa. Clay, I could hear, was in the living room.

When I moved to follow Asa outside, Clay gripped my arm to stop me. “Think hard about this.”

Dipping a hand into my pocket, I worried the dented cold iron bullet I hadn’t disposed of yet. “I have.”

“All right.” He released me. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Dollface.”

“That makes two of us.” I quirked him a smile. “We’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.” He resumed his sweeping. “This sh—” He glanced toward the loft. “It gets everywhere.”

I did a visual check on Colby, who was bundled up in her blanket, headphones on, antennae alert, and I couldn’t decide if I was glad the carnage hadn’t fazed her or disturbed by how she took it in stride. The kid had been through a lot, and I was worse about hanging on to who and what she used to be than she had ever been. The harder she worked to shed her past and embrace her present, the more left behind I felt.

Maybe because my parents’ beliefs and values hadn’t shaped me. They died before leaving their marks on me. Maybe because the director was the defining figure for me? He molded me, shaped me, groomed me. Or maybe it was because she decided to forget her life, but the director had robbed me of the choice. I kept nudging Colby toward her past, her parents, because she had one. I had…fragments.

“Rue?” Asa touched my elbow. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Another side effect of Asa peeling back my layers was I spent more time looking back instead of forward. I couldn’t change the past. No one held that power. All my history contained was the same old pain and a yawning void where my childhood should have been. I was better off keeping my eyes on the horizon.

“I’m good.” I patted his arm. “I got distracted, that’s all.”

Without saying a word, he warned me that distractions could get me killed. “All right.”

Focused on Asa and the woods around us, I kept an eye out for the challenger. I didn’t have to search hard to spot him. The gorgeous turquoise skin made him stand out from the greens and browns around us. At first, I thought he assumed we couldn’t see him. He wasn’t moving. Not even blinking. Barely breathing.

I grasped the situation when he hit one knee, dipped his chin, and pounded a mighty fist with webbed fingers over his heart.

“You may rise.” Asa gave silk a run for its money with his smooth voice. “Speak your piece, then leave.”

“My lord, Astaroth.” As the challenger rose, he flexed open thick red slits on his neck. Gills. “I humbly challenge you for your seat.”

Astaroth to Asa. I filed that away. Yet another example of him folding himself to fit inside a box.

“Challenge accepted.” Undaunted, Asa flicked his wrist to hurry him along. “You are aware of the rules?”

“I am.” The daemon lifted his gaze to me, his eyes black from corner to corner, and then grinned at Asa. “You are fascinated with her.”

Jutting out my chin, I dared Asa to deny it with the force of my glare. “He better be.”

“Oh.” Asa fit his hand to the front of my throat and stroked my carotid with his thumb. “I am.”

“It was nice meeting you.” Unable to tear my gaze away from the molten heat in Asa’s eyes, I addressed the challenger. “Enjoy your final days.”

A rumbling laugh poured from the challenger. “Are you so certain of him?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t have to think about it. “I am.”

“Then perhaps I made a mistake.” His gills flared as he laughed. “Or perhaps the fates will favor me.”

“Fate favors no one. Gods take credit for all good things while they ignore the bad that happens on their watches. Faith is for suckers. You have to make your own luck.” I shrugged. “That’s my humble opinion.”

“Thank you for your time. I am grateful you have accepted my challenge. I look forward to our battle.”

“As do I,” Asa said, never taking his focus off me.

The daemon retreated into the woods. Hard to miss him, even on my periphery, with that skin tone. I did my best to ignore the crunching of leaves as legs scuttled over the forest floor, leaving with their master.

“He seems nice.” I cut my eyes left, but he was gone. “Pretty skin.” I considered him. “Aquatic daemon?”

“Yes.”

“Are you fitting me for a necklace?” I pressed against his hold. “Or are you thinking about choking me?”

“Neither.”

“Do you think you could let go then?”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.” I covered his hand with mine. “Just curious.”

“Aedan was interested in you. You can tell by the way he flared his gills. It’s mating behavior, an attempt to lure you in with bright colors. I had to show him that you’re mine, that you submit only to me. The fact you didn’t glance his way again proved the fascination goes both ways. He won’t try tempting you a second time.”

“Huh.” I let him get his possessiveness under control. “I won’t lie. The gills freaked me out.”

Asa tilted his head, a frown knitting his brow. “You don’t mind my daemon form.”

“No.” A flush rode my thankfully already pink cheeks. “I don’t mind him at all.”

That confession unlocked his grip, loose as it had been, and he lowered his arm. “Horns and all.”

“Horns and all.” I rolled a shoulder then set off toward the cabin. “Meg told me licking horns was a thing the other night. Have any experience in that department? Or was she pulling my leg?”

Noticing I was walking solo, I checked behind me to find Asa glowing red as a tomato fresh off the vine.

“Most horned species enjoy…horn play…but I…” He shook his head. “I’ve never…”

“You look like you could use a glass of water.” I reached back and grabbed his hand. “Cold water.”

Dumped down the front of his pants. A gallon or two ought to do it. Heavy on the ice cubes.

In a daze, he allowed me to lead him back to the cabin. “You would do that?”

The question pulled me up short, just shy of the porch. “Lick your horns?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but all he managed was a nod.

“I don’t see your daemon that way,” I admitted, hoping I didn’t hurt his feelings. “He’s friend-zoned.”

As I spent more time with that side of him, I began to appreciate the facets of that personality. Innocent, almost, which was odd for a daemon. He was quick to claim me, but I didn’t pick up any flirty/sexy vibes.

For all I knew, he liked having me around for the sole purpose I had security clearance for his hair.

A blur of reality, a crackle of flame, and familiar thick black horns curved over Asa’s head.

“You’re not serious.” I did what I would never had done with the daemon. I reached up and touched one with a long slide of my finger down its slight ridges. “You can just mix and match parts at will?”

The plop my brain made as it fell into the gutter could probably be heard for miles.

“No.” A shiver coasted through his limbs. “These are part of my natural appearance, but I blend in better without them. People are less afraid of me than when they can identify my species at a distance.”

Horns or no horns, Asa still had the effect of sending other, lesser predators running. Cowering, at least.

“What else are you hiding?” I plucked his shirt. “Wings? A tail?” I narrowed my eyes. “It’s a tail, right?”

The night his daemon crawled in my bed, I’d missed a golden opportunity to discover extra appendages.

“Mother concealed my daemonic traits for me when I was a child, and I kept up the practice.” His breath punched from his lungs, reminding me I was still fondling him. “She never made a fuss over the horns, or my fangs, but fae are cruel and vain creatures.” Voice ragged, he fought to calm his pulse. “Those are my only abnormalities in this form.”

Except, she wouldn’t have erased them if she accepted him. In magicking away the reminder of what he was, she had taught him to hide a part of himself as well. I would have pointed it out, but the conscience I was growing in fits and starts warned me it was cruel and pointless. The past was past. The trick had served him well then and now. I had no right to accuse his mother of assassinating his self-acceptance.

“You’re not abnormal.” I fisted his shirt. “You’re you.” I flicked my attention back to his horns. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” he rasped, his palm cupping my cheek. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

By gesturing toward his horns, I avoided fielding his compliment. “Will you keep them?”

“No.” He dipped his chin. “Without them, I can pretend, for a little while, that I’m someone else.”

Halloween night came rushing back to me, along with his eagerness to dress up and trick-or-treat with us in town. I suspected then that he craved a sense of acceptance, of belonging, and this confirmed it as far as I was concerned. So, I didn’t push him the way I nudged Colby toward realizations colored by my past.

I questioned if his unwillingness to accept himself had splintered his personality until he and his daemon were two separate entities sharing one body. But I was learning, slowly, to pull back when I sensed a tender spot and not to exploit it as I had been raised to do.

The door swung open, and Clay stood there with a broom. “Everything good?”

“Yep.” I noticed he had removed his wig to prevent ruining it. “How’s cleaning?”

“As disgusting as you might expect.” He frowned at his ashy clothes. “We need to move to a hotel.”

Human witnesses would cut down on the likelihood the black witch would send more zombies after us. I wasn’t a fan of courting discovery—this witch didn’t seem to care about the rules—but I was also tired and hungry and ready to palm my forehead for not considering an undead creature could slip past my wards.

“Okay.” I eased past him. “I’ll start packing.”

“I’ll call…” Asa pulled out his phone then paused. “Make that the Kellies.”

Our backup was in the trash bags Clay was setting on the porch. Secondary teams often contained junior agents about to get their first taste of the life via cleaning up after primary teams. Poor suckers. I got the golden ticket on that front. Nepotism saved me from drudgework. Depending on how many agents were assigned to this area, we might have hours, or days to wait for help.

“I’m almost done with the worst of it.” Clay sneezed into his shoulder. “I put Colby on hotel detail. She’s probably got something by now.” He called up to the loft. “Status report.”

“Two suites booked at Rosemont Inn. They have a four-point-five-star rating, they’re thirty minutes from our present location, and they have high-speed internet.” She leaned over the edge. “Good enough?”

“Perfect, Shorty.” He gave her a thumbs-up, and she returned to her computer. “She’s like having a personal Kelly on the team. She’s a wiz.” He lowered his voice. “She gets to feel like an active member of the team while keeping her out of immediate danger. It’s a win/win, am I right?”

The idea of using her as tech support hadn’t occurred to me. It was brilliant. The best of both worlds.

“How is she paying for that?” I’d had her memorize my credit card number for emergency purchases, but I hoped she wasn’t using it. The insurance money hadn’t come in yet, and shop repairs were draining my balance dry. “As you might recall, my shop hasn’t reopened yet, so money is tight.”

“I gave her access to my black card.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to make you pay out of pocket.”

Black Hat agents got black cards from a witch-owned bank on a private paranormal finance network. The funds weren’t limitless, but they did fit the company aesthetic.

“Good.” I patted my hip. “There seems to be a hole in it.”

Chuckling, Clay got back to work, and I pitched in with Asa to do the best we could without proper supplies.

Since Colby had put on her headphones again, I texted her to tell her to pack it up, that she had an hour. Then I returned to my room to begin packing for the move to a—hopefully—more secure location.

A foul sensation overtook me as I opened the door, and the spit dried in my mouth.

On the bed, propped against the pillow, sat the Proctor grimoire.