Chapter 7 #2
“I don’t know who I’m searching for. A demon or a witch.
It seems like the only option I have to break the curse is to force the person who invoked it to remove it or …
” I let the less palatable option linger unspoken.
“A person capable of such a curse is going to be difficult to deal with, and if it’s a demon… I don’t stand a chance,” I admitted.
The sympathy in Corrine’s expression was surprising.
“I don’t admire the position we’re in— you are in.” She’d bowed out of the situation because it probably involved a demon. I’d be dealing with this alone, and her time would be spent seeking my replacement.
“I believe someone is setting the stage for conflict,” she speculated.
I narrowed my eyes on her. Now she had fully grasped what it would mean for the houses to go to war?
That cemented my working theory that this curse was the work of an umbral witch.
A curse and gray magic would be more compatible.
I wondered if the incompatibility was why Amelia’s coven had failed with the locating spell.
Their spellcasting abilities paled in comparison to umbral witch magic, especially when they delved into gray magic.
Our attention returned to the book. “Witches can use a demon spell, right?”
She nodded. “But they’d need to translate it from Etruscan and exert a significant amount of magic to perform the spell. If the curse is somehow broken, they’d lose the magic they put into the curse. In the end they’d be a weaker version of themselves.”
“But if successful, they’d retain their own magic and be rewarded with Amelia’s as well.”
She nodded.
“May I borrow this spellbook?” I asked, perusing it to see if any spells made sense to me.
“Grimoire,” she corrected.
“Grimoire,” I repeated, suspecting there was more value to it than a simple spellbook. From my perspective there was. The spellbooks we’d used didn’t give us a window into demon magic or how to counter it.
“The pages I’ve shown you are the only ones of relevance,” she said with a confidence that I willingly accepted. I clung to it because I didn’t have anything else.
“How likely is it that this is the work of an umbral witch?” I asked. If her magic hadn’t been stripped from her, Corrine’s magic would place her in the Nightshade Coven among the other umbral witches. From what I knew of her abilities, she would have easily earned the position of Coven Archanist.
“That would be my guess. If they attacked you, it more likely has to do with your friendship with Amelia and your position with us. The Lunar Veil Coven has an advantage because of your friendship with Amelia. Perhaps this is a means to level the field. You have an extraordinary gift of discernment, but it seems to falter when it comes to witches. Don’t underestimate their thirst for power or their cruelty.
” She made a face. “Except the Earthroot Coven. No one takes them seriously.”
That appeared to be the prevailing sentiment among the witch community when it came to the verdant witches.
I never understood why. A coven that drew its strength from the earth and could control vegetation and flora shouldn’t be underestimated.
If they chose to, they could make the world barren.
I took their magic seriously, but their lifestyles, which placed them firmly between Boho and modern eclectic, made it hard to view them as the menace their magic could cause them to be.
“Thank you for the book and your help,” I said, holding the book to my chest with the level of protection and value it warranted. It was all I had now.
“You know how you can thank me.”
“Homemade Neapolitans?” I chirped, flashing her a smile and recalling the time I walked in on her savoring a jam-filled shortbread treat with a nostalgic gleam in her eyes.
Corrine stood to escort me out. I placed the book on the table and gave her a hug. She made a surprised shriek, then tightened the embrace, giving me the impression that it was a farewell and not comfort.
“I can’t help you any further with this, so you have to stay safe.
If you find the culprit, you must tell me.
” Stepping away, she lifted my chin and held a firm gaze on my eyes.
“And the real reason why as well.” There wasn’t a hint of threat, just curiosity.
Immense curiosity and concern that leaned toward maternal.
It made me uncomfortable. Corrine had been turned when she was in her thirties but had been a vampire for seventy years.
I nodded. I needed to determine if I should handle this situation alone or if it warranted a Corrine-response, which often entailed indiscriminate destruction and the erasure of an entire coven.
Corrine led me halfway to the door and, when she encountered the house manager, requested that she extend an invitation to Naaji.
I assumed that was the hot guy I’d passed earlier.
I’d never taken the time to learn the House of Knights Elite’s food source since they frequently changed.
Corrine’s didn’t. I made a point of committing her favorites to memory.
“I didn’t leave,” a deep, sultry voice said from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder to find the man who I clearly hadn’t seen adequately, I could hear Amelia’s voice in my head. “He looks like he was created in an art studio.” Her highest of compliments.
Light brown skin with golden undertones.
Strong, angular jawline that gave way to a slightly rounded chin.
Deep brown eyes that appeared almost black and held an intensity that mirrored the way vampires held a person’s gaze when they compelled them.
But this guy was wholly human and moved toward Corrine with lithe grace and confidence.
He kept his distance from me, giving me a polite nod and a small curl of his lips in place of a smile.
A little over six foot, he had an overwhelming presence.
Once he was close enough to Corrine, she gently ran her fingers through his dark wavy hair before cradling the base of his head.
The nails of her free hand grazed over the stubble on his jaw.
Judging by the long, hungry kiss she gave him, it appeared she’d forgotten I was there.
Or just didn’t care. It was likely she didn’t care.
They headed in the opposite direction, and I quickly made my way to the front door.
I was a little surprised the house manager didn’t escort me.
He was always my shadow the moment a meeting with Corrine ended, as if I had some nefarious plan to hide out in the house, set up camp, or snoop.
The restricted access Corrine placed on parts of the house piqued my curiosity about rooms I’d been denied access to, but I wouldn’t risk damaging our relationship or losing my job because of it.
As I navigated toward the door, a light citrus smell made me slip my hand in my pocket and secure the stun gun I’d stashed.
The House of Hollows was a minefield for me because somehow I’d pissed off a few of the vampires when I was first hired.
Not seeing the value in my role, they targeted me for bullying and violent acts of aggression.
Corrine wasn’t going to intervene and used the incidents to determine my resilience and survival instinct.
Among the vampires, witches, and werewolves, I was the weakest and the slowest and possessed the least amount of magic, so I was reduced to doing whatever was necessary to survive. And I did.
When one of the vampire bullies attempted to make good on their threat of making me a mid-afternoon snack, I broke one of her fangs with the hilt of a knife bespelled to prevent healing.
Now the bully skulked behind me, unable to get over the grudge she and several other vampires held because I dared defend myself. I was considered the menace, not the vampire who attacked me unprovoked. It felt like victim-blaming.
“You walk so freely in our home, as if it were yours. It makes me believe that you want to become one of us,” the low silky voice said from behind me.
Whipping around, my hand went to my waist…
where I’d forgotten to put my knife. Cursing my distraction and haste that left me vulnerable with just a stun gun, I placed the grimoire on a nearby console and met her cruel twisted frown with a dismissive smirk that just added fuel to the flames of her ire.
The vampire’s parchment-colored skin was adorned with a smattering of freckles on her cheeks and over the petite upturned nose that never fit her esthetics.
A midnight-blue pixie cut gave her a deceptively gentle appearance.
As part of Corrine’s security, Anna had suffered a blow to her ego when I broke her fang.
“When are we going to end this animosity? It’s exhausting.
Aren’t you tired of it? If you recall, you attacked me and I kicked your ass for it.
It’s all in the past now,” I said breezily, closely tracking her movements as she rounded me.
Her mauve bespoke suit showcased her slim, athletic frame.
The missing shirt flashed the swells of her breasts each time she moved.
Vampires or shifters could never be accused of being too modest.
It had been an exhausting day, and Anna was the last person I wanted to deal with.
“You didn’t kick my ass, you broke my fucking fang!” she spewed, revealing that her fang had finally healed after four months. I refused to be intimidated by her towering over me and leveled her a dagger glare.