Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
“ B ad day?” I did my best to shake away the warm feeling, but it clung to me. I decided to blame the wine and move on.
“It started off great. Slept in for the first time in months, someone else made the coffee, and when I came down for a cup, a beautiful woman with a flower in her hair offered to dance on my bar. Then an invisible demon visited, half my afternoon staff called out, and I rounded out the day arguing with my alpha.”
I poured filtered water into a pot and set it on my stove. “Get it right, Pallás. I offered to sing your praises on the bar if you convinced your father to let Gladys move in here. No dancing will be involved.”
“This day keeps getting worse,” he muttered.
Hiding a smile, I plucked some of the mint I’d picked yesterday from a glass in the back of the mini fridge. “And I’m the first to admit I’m sexy, but I’m hardly beautiful.”
He finally looked up, rested his chin on his hands, and grinned up at me. “You are unique, and beguiling, and sexy.”
“On that, we agree.”
“And beautiful.”
I shook my head at him and puttered happily around the minuscule kitchen, leaning into the last of my wine buzz. The trailer had two burners, a small oven, a sink, and no counter space to speak of. It was the perfect travel trailer, but far from my ideal permanent residence.
“How long have you had the Airstream?” Ronan asked, as if reading my mind.
“Five years.”
“You got it for witchy stuff?”
“Haven’t ever heard it put quite like that, but yes, it was originally intended for my work.” The water was ready, so I crushed the mint leaves between my hands and added them in to steep. “It was supposed to have been my luxurious travel trailer—emphasis on travel . I had a townhouse in a Tucson paranormal neighborhood that I used as a home base. It had the cutest backyard.” I washed my hands in the small sink.
“What happened to the apartment?”
“I let it go. The Siete Saguaro requires an elemental magical to watch over it. I couldn’t leave it.”
“Why?”
I poured the tea into two delicate cups and brought them to the table, along with lemon slices and a few cookies on a plate.
“The park is special. It protects the elder community living within it. After Mom died, I parked the Airstream in space one and moved in. It’s not permanent. I’ve been looking for someone to take over for a while.”
“I heard about that.” He squeezed lemon into his mint tea. Stroked the lavender.
Ronan wasn’t pushy with his questions. Whether that was due to fatigue or good manners, I wasn’t sure, but I appreciated it.
I stood, reaching over his head to turn on the radio, keeping the volume low. Tom Petty sang “Free Falling.” The chorus infused calm into me, and I retook my seat feeling better.
Ronan tucked the lavender into his pocket and picked up a cookie, examined it—oatmeal, no raisins—then smiled and bit into it. “I thought your mom had a house here.”
“She does—did. The house is still here. I use the garden room attached to it.”
“You don’t want to live there? Seems like there’d be more room.”
“No, I don’t,” I said.
The likelihood of Ronan not knowing I’d discovered Mom’s body in the living room of her house was pretty slim. Everyone in the paranormal community knew about her death.
For lack of something to do with my hands, I picked up a cookie. Then I remembered I’d neglected to eat any veggies today and put it down again.
Ronan didn’t comment on my answer about the house, instead directing his attention to the plate of cookies.
“Why’d you put the cookie down?” he asked.
I patted my belly. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t flat either. My witchy bloodline was filled with curvaceous women with fabulous round bellies, full breasts, and rounded thighs. Mom had called us “Rubenesque.”
“Oh please. Eat the cookie if you want it,” Ronan said. He lifted his shirt and pointed at the tiniest gut I’d ever seen on a man with abs like his. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Let’s enjoy our bellies tonight.”
I laughed. Broke the cookie in half, took a bite. It was delicious, of course. I’d made it. “I like that idea. I filled up on wine snacks earlier, so this will be enough.”
“I had a burger at some point, but that was hours ago.” He picked up the cookie half I’d left on the plate and ate it in one bite. “Did you make these?”
“Yes. I am a woman of many talents.” The trailer was warm and snug, and the tea was settling my nerves. So, naturally, I was getting flirty.
“No doubt.” He grinned then let the smile slide away. “As I told you, I spoke with the alpha tonight.”
My nerves instantly unsettled. “Sounds fun.”
“Oh, let me tell you, it was a joy,” he drawled.
“So, will I be sticking a flower in my hair and making a bar proclamation soon?”
“Not just yet. He has a proposition for you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first one,” I muttered.
Ronan squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath. “Sorry for that.”
“No need to apologize. Not your insult,” I said. “What’s his proposition?”
“He wants to hire you to procure something for him. Also, the La Paloma coven can’t find out about this from you or the deal’s off. He said something about them not approving.”
“I’m listening.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t mind keeping something from the coven?”
“Mind? I consider it a perk. What does he want?”
“He’s looking for—brace yourself—a book.”
“A book ?” It was my turn to look surprised. “Alpha Floyd doesn’t strike me as much of a reader.”
“Yeah. That’s why I said that part about bracing yourself. The day I found out he had a secret library in his house I thought I’d red-pilled out of the matrix.”
“What’s the book?”
“Some kind of witch tome. He says he’s been haggling with a librarian mage working out of Los Angeles, but negotiations have stalled, and he thinks you might have better luck with the guy.”
“Why not ask the coven to handle it? They have a higher standing in the magical community than I do and, last I checked, the Pallás pack had them on retainer.”
“He did. They refused and warned him not to pursue it.”
I slammed my fist on the table, and both teacups jumped. “That fucker .”
Ronan’s brows shot up. “Was it something I said?”
“Negotiations haven’t stalled . If the coven refused to handle it, it’s because the damn book is cursed. Probably a buyer’s curse, meaning whoever exchanges money for it gets an evil surprise as soon as the check clears. More than that, the only way to lift the curse is to resell the book, which I couldn’t do if I gave the thing to your father after I purchased it. Bing bang, he gets his book and rids himself of a troublesome witch.”
He sighed. “Should’ve known it was something like this. Sorry to waste your time.”
I drummed my short, black-painted fingernails on the surface of the table. “I didn’t say no.”
Ronan’s gaze hardened. “You aren’t taking on a curse, Betty. I’ll find another way. In the meantime, Gladys has her position at the bar. She seems to like the work, and when she doesn’t feel up to coming in, she doesn’t have to—she’s covered.”
“Gladys has tended bar all over Smokethorn County. She’s a pro. That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t retire. Your pack should be making things less difficult for its seniors, not more.”
“I know.”
There was a note of defeat in him that I understood. It was dangerous for any shifter to stand up to their alpha leader. When that alpha leader was not only a dictatorial asshat and your absentee father? I couldn’t imagine how complicated it was.
“What’s the name of the book?” I asked.
“He wrote it down.” Ronan leaned back, jutted up his hips, and reached into his front pocket. I tried to think platonic thoughts while he dug around, dragging my eyes back to his face when he produced a scrap of paper and tossed it onto the table. Scrawled on it in messy block letters were the words:
Weret-hekau Maleficium
Weret-hekau definitely sounded Egyptian, which meant my guess about the curse was spot on. Any magic having to do with the ancient Egyptian gods tended to be cursed in some way, though there were always ways around a curse—even a buyer’s curse.
Ideas on how I might get around this one zinged through my head. I whittled them down to ten, then five, and then one. I’d need to cash in a favor, but it could work.
Maybe.
“Tell him I’ll take the job.”
“ What ?” Ronan bolted upright. “You didn’t ask why he wants the book.”
“Oh, he thinks it will give him some sort of magical power over his enemies.” I waved my hands around vaguely to illustrate what I was saying. “It won’t, but whatever. If it’s the only way to get Gladys into the park, I’ll do it.”
“This is a mess.” Ronan glanced at the stainless-steel watch on his wrist. “We’ll talk more tomorrow—er, later today. I’ve got to get home. Rory’s supposed to call before her morning classes. She’s attending M.I.T. this year, you know.” He sat back on the seat, chest swelling with pride.
Ronan’s half-sister might’ve been the visual opposite of him—brown skin and dark hair to his white skin and auburn hair—but they were more like each other than they were their shared father. I’d met Aurora Pallás a few times, and I’d been struck by how fiercely intelligent, kind, and caring she was.
How an evil son of a bastard like Floyd Pallás had ended up with these two, I had no idea.
“When you talk to your father, tell him I’m renegotiating the deal. Gladys is free to move in here, and I’ll expect to be paid a finder’s fee for the book,” I said. “Thirty percent.”
“That’s going to piss him off.”
“It’s good for the man to rage a little. He’ll make a ten percent counteroffer, we’ll settle on twenty, and he’ll feel like he won, which will be important for when he actually loses.”
Ronan groaned. “You seem sure he’s going to agree to that.”
“There’s no way he’d offer if he had any other choice. He’ll agree, because he really wants that book.”
And to be rid of me forever.
Ronan thanked me for the tea and cookies and left.
Exhausted, I stripped off my bathing suit, took a shower, and went to bed. My dreams were acid-trip weird. An auburn-wooled wolf in sheep’s clothing served wine in a bubbling cauldron to a witch in a pointy black hat. The witch wore blood red lipstick and a poisonous camellia in her hair.
Ida knocked on my door at seven a.m.
“Found this on your front step.” She handed me an envelope with an ornate wax seal. “Black stationary with royal gold wax? What’s that ostentatious old demon up to now?”
She made coffee while I got dressed and slapped on some moisturizer. I penciled in her eyebrows then sat down to drink a cup. The radio played Redbone’s “Come and Get Your Love,” one of Mom’s favorite songs.
Ida snapped her fingers to the beat. It was one of her favorites, too.
“Aren’t you going to open the letter?” She picked up her coffee mug and blew on the surface before taking a sip.
“Yeah.” I studied the envelope from Sexton. It smelled like old soil and anise. I prodded the seal with my index fingernail, and the letter opened, scattering fine dirt like glitter.
I read the letter and passed it across the table to her.
“The soil spoke one word: Vita.” She read it again, this time to herself. “Well, that was underwhelming.”
“Nothing less than I expected,” I said.
Ida scowled over the rim of her mug. “What the heck does it mean?”
“It’s Latin for ‘life.’ Given the way Mom’s soil feels about me, it probably means it wants to drag me underground so it can snuff out mine.”
My phone buzzed against the table. I read the text message and groaned. “It’s from Sexton.”
“That’s not disturbing at all, him messaging you right after you finish reading his letter,” Ida muttered.
I’d noticed that, too.
“He wants me to do another job for him,” I said. “Tis the season, apparently.”
“Huh?” Ida stood. She used the edge of one hand to dust the dirt into her other hand then dumped it into the tiny planter suction-cupped to the window over my sink that had once grown thyme.
“Alpha Floyd wants me to find a book for him.” I told her about his proposition and got her word that she wouldn’t share the information with anyone else—especially the coven.
Unless I disappeared. Then blab it everywhere.
“It’s named for an ancient Egyptian goddess. The book has to be cursed,” she said.
“Pretty sure it is.”
“Dealing in cursed books is dangerous, Betty.”
“All well-paying jobs are dangerous,” I said.
She frowned over the lip of her mug. “What does Sexton want?”
“An oil lamp. He says there are several in circulation, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”
Ida leaned back in her seat and laughed. “Let me guess. He asked you to find a Persephone’s Ear."
“Yeah. Do you know about it?”
“Of course. Every necromancer does. It’s basically a barrier-crossing device.” At my blank look, she said, “When a human or paranormal uses it, they’re able to enter establishments sealed off from them by a curse or magic. You just light the lamp and saunter right in.”
“And if a demon uses it?”
“It’s even more powerful in the hand of someone like Sexton. A demon can use the lamp to cross any barrier. In any world.”