31. Thorne Black Cat
Thorne Black Cat
Rumor Malefic
“Fuck the Blackthorne Boys.” I stomped up the grassy hill.
“I fucking hate the Blackthorne Boys.” Almost slipping, I grabbed onto a gravestone for support.
Glancing over my shoulder, Wander limped into his den and flopped down, licking his paw before looking up at me and stretching his huge, lycanthrope mouth into a toothy yawn.
At least he wasn’t chasing me. At least he wasn’t trying to eat me like Spade had probably hoped would happen.
“Fuck Spade,” I grumbled. “Fuck Riot.”
Fishing into my cleavage, I yanked out the spell page. A groan fled my throat as I read the words.
Wolf’s Bane
Fox Flame
White Stag Hair
A promise not yet kept
A desire not yet spoken
A wish not yet uttered
Bury in grave dirt and rub the dirt on your chest under the light of the moon and your hex is complete.
“I really don’t feel like dealing with these stupid, witchy riddles right now.
” Leaning on the grave, I mulled it over, trying to focus—trying to forget about the remnants of Riot that slid between my thighs.
My body was warm and awakened, still vibrating from our magic.
I tugged at a lock of my hair. Stark white.
White, just like Riots. Had he marked me in some sick way?
Clearly he thought so and made a point to ask me to taunt Spade with it.
Why would his brother care? Spade hated me, and I hated him.
It didn’t matter, hopefully this hex reigned hell upon them all. I read the spell five times, knowing the ingredients were in my pockets, and I stood on grave dirt—yet the last part had me stumped. “These hexes that require introspection suck,” I grumbled, propping up against a headstone.
Something soft swished against my arm. “You despise introspection, don’t you, Rumor Malefic?” a woman’s voice said.
Jumping back, I watched as a black cat lounged on the top of the headstone, dangling its long dark tail. “What?” she said with a surly tone. “Cat got your tongue? I know you’re familiar with, well, familiars .”
“Who do you belong to?” I asked, no longer surprised by walking skeletons, academic mice, moody lycanthropes or talking cats.
The feline rolled onto her back, wiggling side to side. “Oh, some asshole. I’m Cat, by the way, and you’re in a whole world of trouble. Aren’t you?”
“I think I’m doing just fine, thanks.” I crossed my arms. “The last thing I need is another know-it-all throwing me off task.”
“Better hop to it then. You’re running out of time. Hands in the dirt, witch. Tick-tock, tick-tock.”
I glared at Cat’s diamond slitted green eyes. “If your magical being is anything like you, I bet they’re a real peach.”
“He’s downright terrible. Your sister would love him.” Cat cackled.
Shock and fear gripped my chest. “What did you just say? How do you know anything at all about my sister… where did you even come from?”
“A little place called Ash Grove . I have a feeling that is information you’ll need to stuff in your bra and whip out at a later date.
For now, time’s running out. ‘ A promise not yet kept, a desire not yet spoken, a wish not yet uttered.’” The black cat rolled over and stood, bowing into a leisurely stretch.
“By the looks of you… I’d say those three things are likely only one thing. Can you think of what it may be?”
Her promises of not much time left were heaping anxiety upon me.
The air chilled a degree cooler and fear pressed in on my senses.
Usually, a black cat wouldn’t inspire fright; however, there was something about this surly familiar that made me believe I should tread lightly.
For some reason unbeknownst to me, she knew who I was and was seemingly here to help.
Ash Grove wasn’t a place I’d heard of before. If she weren’t a member of the Blackthorne estate, how did she get in and how’d she know so much about my life?
“Tick-tock, tick-tock,” the cat purred.
“You sound like Riot,” I murmured. With a huff, I pulled out the flowers and stag hair, dropped to my knees, and buried them in a handful of grave dirt.
Riot and Spade really got under my skin.
They were infuriating and yet something about them beckoned me into their chaos.
What even was my life before I’d entrapped myself in the throngs of their mayhem?
If I left today, would they not occupy my every thought?
I’d just had sex with Riot, and my hair had literally changed in response.
Just the brush of Spade’s arm sent me into an orbit of need…
even my every interaction with their brother, Twenty, dripped with intrigue and desire.
Reluctantly, my mind settled on the three-way answer to this horrible hex.
Leave it to a hex to make you confront your inner demons in order to be effective.
“I want… maybe I want… perhaps… one of them. Maybe one of the Blackthorne boys.” The words were like bitter lemon peels on my tongue; in fact, that’s exactly what I tasted, as the hex reverberated through the grave soil.
Cat snickered from the top of the headstone. “If I were an author writing you, I think I’d call that character growth .”
“Shut up before I find a taxidermy hex next.”
Cat hissed.
I kind of liked her.
As the sun began to set, I half wondered if Spade would still believe I was meeting him in the hedge maze again.
I hoped he’d show up and be very, very disappointed to find it vacant.
There was no way in hell I would be flirting with him again, not after today.
Taking another fistful of grave dirt and closing my eyes, I spoke the crumpled paper’s words.
“Reveal what is hidden, take what is mine, receive what I desire,” I asked of the hex.
Magic cold and gloomy spread through my palms, chilling my blood, and making me dizzy.
This must have been a darker spell than its ingredients portrayed.
Flower blooms and stag fur didn’t make me think chilly and dreary, but the sensation of dread pressed on my shoulders.
With near frozen palms still clutching grave dirt, I peeked one eye open.
Cat’s head tilted down in a mischievous glare. “You’re not alone. Better run.” The mysterious, sassy feline hopped briskly from her perch and pranced into the fog, disappearing as quickly as she appeared. Ash Grove, she’d mentioned. Where the hell was Ash Grove?
The lot sat empty as silver fog rolled in under the shadow of the setting sun. Only the stone arches of headstones broke up the gray covering like domed spikes of a scaled crocmare.
The silhouette of a man appeared.
Breathe shocked from my lungs as he strode forward. At first, I assumed it was Spade, coming to cash in my promise to join him in the maze. Then I wondered if it were Riot, who’d drag me to dinner. I was indeed hungry so, hate him as I may, I’d at least be fed.
My brain quickly ruled out both boys. Then I thought perhaps Twenty had sensed my distress, as familiars could, and came to find me.
This man’s jaunt was not of the Blackthorne Boys.
He was wider, still tall, but not reaching the full height of the three brothers.
Using the headstone to pull me up, I stood. My knees shook; my legs feeble. That spell had really taken it out of me.
The man surged forward, his features clearing through the eerie fog.
Panic gripped my throat as Adder Viper stepped forward and snarled. “Hello, wife. I’m here to take you home.”