Green Broke (The Hat Witch #2)

Chapter 1 Gracie

Suggested Listening: One More Night by Definitely Maybe

In the last twelve hours, my whole world has fallen apart, and I am one bad moment away from snapping and going Wicked Witch of the West on someone.

The jury is still out on whether my first target will be the stranger standing in my driveway looking like he crawled out of an emo, pop-punk music video or not.

My vampire boyfriend is missing. Likely kidnapped by his piece of shit sire because I kind-of-sort-of broke the vampire-thrall bond and made Ezra into some sort of a super vampire that gives him Unique status.

Which means Ezra isn’t technically a vampire anymore.

But he kind of is, too. I think. Honestly, we have no idea.

We were pretty much sticking our heads in the sand on that one, just hoping things would work out.

They haven’t. And now I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.

I cannot lose Ezra. The idea of not having him in my life leaves a painful pinch in my stomach, which in turn makes my joints ache.

I feel like… If I lose Ezra, I’ll die.

Typically, I’m not the melodramatic girlie. I’m much more the tie your boots on a little tighter than normal and kick some ass, girlie. But the epic shitstorm I’ve found myself in has me about to do something drastic. Like cry. Or commit homicide.

Which begs the question, is it homicide if the so-called victim is already dead? Asking for a friend.

As if my life wasn’t already overflowing with drama, I found out that my former fae-boyfriend—Puck—who ghosted me for six months might just be my fated love. Along with his identical twin brother—Darius—who I didn’t know existed until a few hours ago.

The only people I can trust completely are my two best friends, Briella and Poppy. And my archdemon boyfriend, Vyslan. That last one being a collection of words I never thought I would identify with, but here we are!

This tattooed newcomer?

No fucking idea who he is, but Darius is practically vibrating with excitement, so this new guy can’t be all that bad. I have to tell myself that. And hope.

Darius is fae and a seer. He has the ability to see multiple potential futures all at once.

Apparently, he’s been a bit obsessed with watching our potential futures for the last hundred years or so, waiting for me to be born.

No pressure or anything. Sometimes he talks to those other times without realizing we have no context for the conversation at all. It’s strange, but endearing.

“Hey there,” Darius says. He bounces on the balls of his feet while his cat-ferret-otter looking familiar, Isa, has its attention trained on the new guy.

I still haven’t asked what Isa is trying to be. Darius’ familiar is actually a mimic slime, but appears to be this cat-ferret-otter-like creature most of the time. No idea why. But I am Team Isa. The little jiggly freak is adorable.

The newcomer steps around the front of his shiny pink Cadillac.

It’s pink. Like Elvis, pink Cadillac, pink.

Which kind of vibes with his whole preppy-punk look.

All he’s missing is some eyeliner and black nail polish.

He’s wearing Converse, black slacks, a blue knit sweater over a white button-down, and thick black glasses already.

His hair is curly. Like loose ringlets that spill forward over his brow in a kind of almost-Mohawk way.

His hair has to be dyed to be that perfectly blue-black.

Except for the single, perfect curl of platinum blonde hair.

If I weren’t completely stocked with men, I might be interested in someone like him.

He’s more my normal type than the others.

Not that I’ve had a normal anything in years.

“Oh, boy,” I mutter. There’s this sensation.

Like I’m making predetermined movements and my words are already selected for me.

Almost like I’m playing a role and not living my damn life.

Is this what fate feels like? No. Darius said the future isn’t certain.

That even things he’s thought were set in stone have shifted. “Let’s hear it. What brings you here?”

“Are you Gracie?” the emo-pop punk guy asks.

I’m not feeling very generous after a sleepless night spent crafting failed spells.

I know I can find Ezra. I just need to think.

And this guy is taking up my time. Still, I can’t be foolhardy.

There’s a lot going on with the coven that’s been on the back-burner this week. I can’t let my guard down.

“Depends,” I say and narrow my gaze at him, looking for some tell, some indication he’s here for nefarious purposes. The wards aren’t perfect. “Why do you want to know?”

My demon boyfriend edges to the side. I can just see him out of the corner of my eye. He’s shifted his appearance a bit, looking more like his demonic self than human. Which means he’s massive, his hair is pure hellfire, and his muscles bulge as he crosses his arms over his stone-wall chest.

“Huh,” Vylsan mutters. His arm brushes against my shoulder. It might be in my head, but that brief contact makes me feel better. Regardless of what the rest of these chuckleheads say or do, he’s got my back.

The newcomer’s eyes widen as he gapes at Vyslan. “Fuck…”

I snap my fingers, my annoyance spiking. I could be looking for Ezra right now, but instead I’m entertaining whatever the hell this is. “Eyes over here. Not to be rude, but we’ve got a situation on our hands.”

“Um, well… See, the thing is…” He stares at me, his brow furrowed. He’s got a pretty face. Nice bone structure. Pale skin, like he’s allergic to the outdoors. “You’re Gracie. You look like the picture.”

I’m going to nut punch this guy if he doesn’t answer the damn question. His comment puts me on edge, though. The only people who would be showing off pictures of me would be the coven elders. And only for very specific reasons. Like assassination. Or…

“And why are people showing you pictures of me?” I ask.

He chuckles, but it’s a pained sound without any humor behind it. “Uh, funny thing. You see, the coven summoned me this morning. I’m a warlock. I’ve applied for membership, but—”

“I know how they are. Skip ahead.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Between the guys, my sentient house, and my own power, I’m not scared of a warlock.

But the coven? They’re another matter. And I don’t doubt that they would use anyone or anything to keep me under their thumb.

This is the other reason why the coven would show off pictures.

But I still need him to say it. My only question is how?

How did they do it? “What did they want you to do?”

“That’s just it.” His voice goes high and squeaky. “They, um, sort of… Kind of… I mean, there’s no sort of or kind of about it. They did it. They…”

We stare at each other as the pieces click into place. I still want him to say it, but I can see the truth written on his face.

I want to tell him to shut up. To stop talking. This cannot be happening. Not now, of all times. But I can’t. This is what leaving the coven on the backburner has done.

I suck in a breath and rock back on my heels, pressing against Vyslan’s arm.

“They bound me to you,” he says, each word reverberating through me like nails being driven into a coffin.

Son of an oathbreaker.

My stomach knots as my thoughts scatter.

How…?

Except I know how this happened. I can see the pieces fitting together. I just don’t know the facts. Yet.

The newcomer is still talking, wringing his hands.

Sweat dampens his brow. He looks like a guy at his execution party.

“In the very literal sense. If I’m not around you, I’ll die.

If, um… If I don’t complete the binding, I’ll die.

You see, the theme? Kind of a shitty theme. I’m, uh, your husband. Surprise!”

A binding of this nature would take blood.

My housemates and I have been trying to extract ourselves from the coven’s control for years.

Thanks to the new agreements passed by the governing paranormal council, they can’t technically come after us for wanting to leave.

They can, however, make our lives difficult.

But they don’t own us. They can’t assassinate us.

At least not legally. So long as we play by the rules, so do they. Until now.

We were so close to being free of them.

How would they have gotten our blood? I’ve refused to allow them a drop for years. I’ve even had to pay fines. It’s so bad that we burn our hygiene products in the garden under a protective spell. It wasn’t always this bad, however. For all I know, they’ve been saving a drop all this time.

I lean back against Vyslan, grateful for the arm he bands around me as my world crumbles.

The coven has the check. Once that check is cashed and our loan paid in full, we’re out. The paperwork has been filed, signed, and acknowledged. The loan is the last tether binding us to the coven. So what happened? How did we get here? This should not be possible.

“It’s okay, Gracie,” Darius mutters and rubs my other shoulder in soothing circles. “It’s okay. We’re all here now.”

We’re all here? What does that mean?

Oh, right. Last night, he said there was one more guy in his visions. That in the futures he saw I had five husbands. A respectable number for a witch in this day and age.

A year ago, I thought myself lucky to have one boyfriend. Now, in the span of a week, I have… Well. I’m not sure what we all are to each other. But it’s complicated.

I blink at the man in my driveway while he stares at me with fear and hope warring in his eyes.

If he’s telling the truth, then the coven is using him, too. My only question is how far can I trust him?