Chapter 7 #2
“See, not all witches are wicked,” she said.
“Thanks,” I murmured. “But I mean, I didn’t think you were, uh…”
Her lips curved in a little acknowledgment before she turned back to her reflection, dabbing at her lipstick as though it didn’t already look flawless.
“Your boys clearly have their stories. Just know, for the record, I’ve got your back tonight.
I’m not one of those bitches who curse innocents or drink virgin blood.
Well—only once a decade, at least. Am I your first? ”
“My first?” I blinked. I’d been staring at the gloss applicator sliding over her lips.
“Practitioner of the arcane arts,” Delilah said, waggling her fingers. “You’ve seen your share of horrors and curiosities yourself these last months, haven’t you?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “There was one coven we encountered—just a couple of weeks after leaving Elysia. They were terrorizing a town. But they—er, I didn’t get a chance to speak with any of them.”
I didn’t say why—that Jon and Cliff had made quick work of ending their reign of terror; they’d shot each witch cleanly through the head, and the bodies had been promptly burned in pieces down by the river.
Delilah seemed to read it from my expression alone, her gaze souring somewhat.
“I can understand why they’re sweet on you,” she said. “Fairies don’t choose to be what they are, but witches do. It’s our choice to transform and tie ourselves to a life of sacrifice and power. Unfortunately, many of my colleagues do it for the wrong reasons.”
“And what reason was yours?”
Her cool, self-assured mask slipped a little, though she didn’t seem particularly taken off guard by the question. I found myself holding my breath as Delilah kept her gaze lowered at the table.
“It was a long time ago,” she said. “Things were different back then. My first marriage was…painful. I was young and naive, and he was a brute who enjoyed making me feel small. I needed a way out. Magic gave me the power to eliminate him and take back my life.”
She tapered off with a little shrug. I struggled to reconcile the image of a terrified young bride with the woman before me, someone who could control any room she stepped into.
A way out. It wasn’t hard to put together what she meant.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“Please,” she scoffed. “Girls like us don’t thrive on pity, hm? Good things can come in bloody packages.”
The corner of my mouth lifted, though it was bittersweet. I thought of Marcellus, how my blade had plunged into his chest, his blood hot on my knuckles. No, pity was worthless with such things.
“Besides, it all brought me to him,” Delilah said. “I would endure decades of blood over again for the chance to meet Lee.”
The image of the pendant she’d given him rested in my mind. I did not doubt that she would commit the most heinous acts to secure her future with Lee; they both would.
“What did he do to win you over?” I ventured to ask. “Something tells me you’re not easily impressed.”
Delilah laughed, glancing down at herself.
It was such an endearing, vulnerable smile that it softened her sharp beauty.
“He was and always has been persistent. I shook him and Benny off when we first met, chasing down the same artifact—and even then, he didn’t let up.
But there was a third party interested. I got in over my head and wound up with a bullet in my leg.
Passed out in my cat form somewhere near a gutter and woke up on Lee’s couch the following morning—leg wrapped up, and the relic still in-hand. ”
“He let you have the artifact?” My heart melted a little as I imagined it—Delilah waking up, prepared for a fight, only to find that Lee wanted her more than any priceless asset.
“I offered him half of what I fenced it for, but he refused,” Deliah said. “He fights with tenderness instead of blows. After that, letting him win our little games didn’t feel like losing anymore.”
The soft way she spoke of Lee made me admittedly want to punch him just a little less. I felt a strange warmth blossom in my chest as Delilah let the admission sit between us—something I doubted she shared often with many.
“I understand completely about enduring terrors to meet the soul that matches yours,” I said, my thoughts drifting to Jon—to my dream of entwining my fingers through his.
Delilah chuckled. “No kidding.”
My smile faltered. “What do you mean by that?”
“My vanity spells are unparalleled, but I’m ninety years old, honey. I’ve been in more relationships than I care to keep track of. I know fuck me eyes when I see them. I would tell you to be cautious, but Jon seems equally enamored with you—if not more.”
Although I was unashamed of the truth, my skin prickled uncertainly as I searched her tone. “Is this the part where you say we’re both crazy?”
Delilah regarded my reflection in the mirror. “Relax. I don’t judge when it comes to matters of the heart. The only tidbit throwing me for a loop is that a hunter would demand a spell. One for the sake of a fairy, of all people.”
The unspoken question was clear, and I found myself seeking the certainty that she could help.
“If a witch can be a cat,” I murmured, “then a fairy can be a human, right? I’m not familiar with transformation magic, but I know it must be possible.
My kind has been capable of taking other forms, if records and legends are to be believed.
” I met her reflected gaze. “Will you be able to give me that?”
“So long as your hunters hold up their end of the bargain and you have the strength to undergo the process, I believe I can help you. Speaking of, you do understand that putting yourself on the front lines of this mission wasn’t part of the bargain, don’t you?
You could have gotten your transformation spell without taking over Ben’s role. ”
I shrugged. “What can I say? Cliff claims I can’t go a single day without throwing myself at the worst decision possible. Who am I to disappoint him?”
Delilah looked at me meaningfully. “Questionable decision or not, we’re grateful. In fact, I’m certain that Lee will give you the sun if you ask for it. But really, what compelled you to offer yourself like that in the first place?”
“The look in Ben’s eyes,” I murmured. “He seems to have suffered enough.”
“And you haven’t?” Delilah faced me fully and reached slowly in my direction.
I held still, breath catching as she gingerly touched the traitor mark on my cheek.
The contact made my heart flutter, even more so as she studied me closely.
“I may not be familiar with every fae rune, but I know an unwilling brand when I see one. There are jumps in the linework. You were fighting hard.”
“I can’t imagine anyone receiving a traitor mark calmly,” I said, glad she could not see the newer rune carved into my shoulder. The one I had readily accepted from Marcellus before realizing the horrific truth of his intentions for me. “When my people found out I’d saved Jon…”
“A mark for saving a life.” Delilah tipped my chin up, wearing a smile that made my wings flicker gleefully. “It suits you. Wear it with pride.”
Gentle warmth rushed through me even after she pulled away. Jon had told me many times that I should not be ashamed of the brand, but Delilah had breathed new life into the idea.
I rubbed my cheek thoughtfully, listening to Jon’s muffled voice in the master suite. “Maybe if this all works out, Jon and I will travel, too. Vanish off the map together, like you two.”
“Any dream destinations?” Delilah ventured.
“Anywhere and everything,” I said, heartened at the very image of it. “I want to see it all.”
Delilah sank her chin into her hand. “I’m still trying to win Lee over on the concept of living forever, but he’s on the fence.
He still has years to decide, though he won’t last long if he keeps plunging headfirst into these noble heists without the proper power to defend himself.
Charm, looks, and parlor tricks can only protect him for so long. ”
“I wish there was a way to smuggle in weapons,” I said, shaken by the reminder that Jon and Cliff would be stripped of their usual arsenal.
“For Lee, it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t fire a damn gun if it were strapped to his hand. Pathetic, isn’t it?” Her sigh was dreamy and fond all the same.
My grin faltered. “Why is that, exactly?”
Delilah’s expression flickered. “I’m not sure it’s my place to say. There was an unfortunate incident that shook him. Ever since, he’s refused to get blood on his hands through anything even shaped like a gun.”
Briefly, we paused as the sound of Jon and Lee’s voices rose across the suite. From what I could make out, they were arguing over whether Jon’s slicked-back hair made him look like a greaser or not—whatever that was.
“I suppose even if a human transformation doesn’t work out, we’ll still have the spectral plane to bide our time,” I said, toying with a thread on my leggings. “A small comfort, but it’s something.”
A sharp bang made me jump: Delilah’s lip gloss had hit the tile floor. Her hand was still curled around empty air, an expression of mild horror fixed upon me.
“Spectral plane?” she asked. “Do you mean the astral realm? The space in-between?”
I nearly blushed at the slip, realizing how far I’d let my walls down for this woman when I had so carefully been trying to keep that information to my chest. Her sudden tension put me on edge.
“I suppose so, yes. Witches must have a different name for it,” I said. “We call it our sanctuary—the place where Jon and I can be equals. He can even wield the magic there. He’s a natural, actually. I’d never have believed it.”