7. Cursebreaker
CURSEbrEAKER
deputy gus rides again!
— gus
Cursebreaking is a skill I was born with.
I really only blossomed into my powers as I came of age, but it’s not something I learned to do.
It’s an ability I’ve always had, and it’s bothered me for two months that Riordan Lobo was the first curse that I wasn’t able to unravel within a week of first encountering it.
That’s not to say every curse I come across is easy. Some take hours to understand. Others take days before I can find the first weak spot, and the more powerful the witch who cast it, the harder it can be to unravel their work.
But there’s always a weak spot. There has to be.
In my experience, every curse can be broken.
It’s just up to a cursebreaker to figure out how.
After all, a curse is dark magic forced onto someone else.
No matter how tightly it’s bound, there should be a place where the victim ends and the curse begins.
Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I let the way my nerves acted up whenever I was around him keep me from figuring out that spot.
Then he was gone, but now that he’s back, this is the best opportunity to get a good look at it, especially if he’s aware that all I want to do is use my ability to stop it from hurting him.
I explained it as best I could, telling Riordan that I’ve always been able to tell that he had a curse placed on him, even if I didn’t know what it did—at first. I know what it does now, and if he wants me to break it, I’d be more than happy to.
Riordan doesn’t say anything at first. He definitely doesn’t shoot my request down right off the bat. In fact, he paid close attention to me while I spoke, and now that I’m done, he finally asks, “If I agree, you’ll want to do this now?”
I honestly didn’t think he would say yes. In my experience, it’s a lot easier to break the curse when the cursed person is an active participant. So, sure, I could watch him surreptitiously, trying to figure it out on my own, or he could let me in.
I nod. “If you don’t mind.” I pause, then add, “Call it professional curiosity if you like. I haven’t come across a curse that I haven’t wanted to take a shot at breaking.”
“Fine. But I don’t want an audience. If I let you do this, it’s just you and me. We can go out back. Sound fair?”
I know he doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but I can’t help but flush. “If that’s how you want to do it.”
“You don’t have to worry about an audience,” calls out Max, and I nearly jump. Goddess damn it. So focused on Riordan, I kind of forgot that Max, Honey, and Gus have been watching our exchange like a, well, audience.
Riordan looks at his brother. “You leaving?”
“Yeah. Once Honey’s done here, we’re heading home.” Max sets his coffee cup down, grabbing the blue folder I only just noticed sitting on the edge of Honey’s display case. “I’ve got all of my written notes here. I want to go over everything again. See if I missed something.”
Riordan’s attention immediately drops to it. “Your notes on both murders?”
“Everything I have so far.”
“I would like to see them.”
Max gives him a look. Riordan gives him one right back.
I’ve never had a sibling of my own, so I don’t know if this is normal brotherly communication or an alpha wolf thing, but somehow an entire conversation seems to pass between them before Max tucks the folder beneath his arm and Riordan clears his throat, the first one to look away.
“Come see me tonight. I’ll cook dinner for you and Honey.”
From somewhere behind the counter, I hear an indignant squeak.
“And Gus,” adds Max.
Riordan’s lips twitch. And I’d be willing to bet it has as much to do with his brother’s offer as it does Gus’s insistence that he’s part of their family.
After spending so much time around the shifters in Moonburrow, if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that food has meaning when shared between loved ones.
So when he says, “I’ll be there,” I know that whatever bad blood is between the Lobo brothers can be smoothed over with dinner.
I’m glad. For all that Riordan told us he came back because Max sent word that witches were being targeted, it’s impossible to miss what his absence has done to his younger brother.
Max has spent the last two months being Moonburrow’s sheriff and the Moonshadow Pack’s Alpha without his chief deputy or Beta at his side, and now that Riordan is standing in front of him again, some of the tension Max wears so naturally seems to ease.
Riordan nods at me. “You ready?”
“Did you still want to go out back?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
I hesitate.
Not because I’m afraid to be alone with him. At least, I don’t think that’s why. It’s not like he’s going to hurt me… but I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean to do that the last time we were in the same room together.
The last time I was alone with Riordan, there were silver bars between us and his curse stole control of my body.
I know he didn’t mean for it to happen. I saw the horror on his face the instant he realized what he’d done, and I’ve had two months to understand that whatever magic was forced on him is as much his enemy as it was mine.
Still, it’s easy to tell myself that. It’s a lot harder when he’s right there, watching me as though expecting me to change my mind.
Out back? Where there’s space and there’s privacy? Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea.
“It is.”
Riordan gestures for me to go first. I say good night to Honey, Max, and Gus before heading into the kitchen. I place the potted plant down next to my purse, then lead the way to the back exit.
The sun’s still out, but the way the alley narrows behind Dough You Believe in Magic means that it’s constantly shadowed, no matter what time of day it is.
As Riordan follows me outside, I can just make out the faint green wisps of the curse wrapped around his aura.
Now that he’s come to a stop right next to me, close enough that I can reach out and grab him if I wanted to, I finally have the chance to do more than stare at it.
“Your hands, please,” I say.
“Penelope—”
“If you want me to work with you on this investigation, this is what I want first.”
Look at me. I’m a lot braver when it’s just the two of us which you would think wouldn’t be the case, but though something about Riordan has me buzzing, I hold true to my earlier thought: he won’t hurt me.
Still, he studies me for so long that I begin to wonder if I finally pushed the topic too far. Then, without another word, Riordan holds out his hands.
My heart gives one stupid little jump as I step up to him and slide my palms on top of his.
Warm. That’s the first thing I notice. The second is that his hands are way bigger than mine, and rougher than I expected from someone who dresses like he has a standing appointment with a tailor.
The third is that standing between his knees while holding both of his hands feels much more intimate than anything that should qualify as professional cursework.
The fact that Riordan is peering down at me with those gold eyes has absolutely nothing to do with how warm I suddenly am. Nope. It’s his shifter heat and that’s all.
Just in case…
“Close your eyes,” I murmur.
“Does that help me or you?”
“Yes.”
That almost-smile of his appears again before he does what I said and closes his eyes.
I do the same, and then I feel.
Cursebreaking isn’t anything like ordinary magic.
Not for me, at least. There’s no fumbling for the right words or me freaking out, making sure I remembered every step of a spell before I inevitably mess it up.
Instead, the power is both instinctive and strong, and I let it flow through our joined hands.
At first, I feel Riordan.
His aura is stronger than most shifters I’ve worked on before. Bigger, too, though I’m not sure if that’s because he’s an alpha wolf or simply because he’s Riordan. His dominance feels wild beneath the surface, restrained by the man holding my hands, yet undeniably powerful.
Then I touch the curse.
My breath catches.
It’s everywhere.
Just like I suspected, it doesn’t sit on top of his natural aura.
It winds through it, twisting around the wild pulse of his wolf until I have trouble telling them apart.
Every time I follow one thread, it knots around another piece of him, and when I probe deeper, the curse seems to disappear straight into the dominant magic that marks him as an alpha.
That’s when I understand.
All along, I thought his curse was similar to this mortal movie I once watched. Only, instead of the heroine being cursed to obey every order she hears, the hero in front of me was cursed so that anyone he commands has no choice but to listen to him and do it.
A cruel alpha would use that to rule a pack. Riordan Lobo accepted that he was cursed and handed the position of Alpha over to his younger brother.
My fingers tighten involuntarily around his as I peer open my eyes only to find that Riordan had already done the same.
“Who cursed you?” I murmur.
His expression shutters so quickly that I know I’ve hit something that he has no intention of sharing. “It doesn’t matter.”
Technically, that’s true. I don’t need to know who cursed him or why to break it; if the opposite was the case, I would have a much poorer success rate. However, when I think about how tightly wound Riordan’s curse is… I don’t even know where to begin to unravel it.
Does that mean I’m a quitter? That I’m going to give up?
No. I have a taste of it now, and I understand how it works.
I also notice how careful he is not to say anything to anyone that could be construed as an order.
It must’ve been a fluke. Frustrated with another murder in Moonburrow, he gave me a command and, because of it, we’re only dealing with the aftermath now, two months later.
Since I’d rather do my duty than focus on why his actions in the sheriff station affected me so much, I close my eyes once more and try again.
I search deeper, but knowing what the curse does only makes me appreciate how difficult breaking it is going to be.
Riordan’s wolf is naturally dominant. An alpha gives orders and expects them to be followed.
Somehow, whoever cursed him took that instinct and wrapped magic around it until an expectation became compulsion.
No wonder I couldn’t resist him in the jail. No wonder he was horrified that I couldn’t. If he’s dealt with this curse for years, like Roxy told me, he has to know every trick to get around it—until that day with me.
No one should have to police their words around the clock. No one should have to worry about having their free will taken from them.
I’ll break this curse. It might take some time, but I’ll do it, and I tell him so.
Riordan pulls his hands out of mine. “You don’t have to do that.”
What? “Of course I do. I’m a cursebreaker. That’s my job.”
“Right now, you’re working as a consulting detective for the Moonburrow Sheriff Department,” he deadpans. Look at that. I’m a cursebreaker, a volunteer librarian, and now a consulting detective… “Don’t worry about me. Besides, I’m used to it.”
Something about the way he says that bothers me more than his immediate refusal. “That doesn’t mean you should have to live with it.”
“I know how to control it.”
“Most of the time, maybe.”
Whoops.
The words slip out before I can stop them. I didn’t mean to say that, but when his expression changes, a haunted look coming to his eyes… it doesn’t matter what I intended. I said it, and I can’t take it back.
However, I can apologize.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No.” Riordan’s gold eyes stay fixed on me.
“I’m the one who owes you an apology. About what happened in the cell.
I lost control. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.
But instead of explaining it and using my curse to reverse it, I panicked.
So, yes, Penelope. I’m the one who should say I’m sorry. And I am.”
My cheeks heat up. “Riordan, I know you didn’t mean to do that—”
“Now, perhaps. But you didn’t know that when I left you in the cell.”
No. I didn’t.
I remember sitting on the cot in that cell, desperate to stand and unable to move because he told me to sit down. Trying to demand that he release me and discovering I couldn’t make a sound because he ordered me to be quiet.
But I remember the look on his face before he disappeared, and because of that, I’ve accepted it was an accident long before now.
His jaw tightens. “I didn’t mean to use my curse against you. I need you to know that. That was my human side fucking up. My wolf knew you were innocent… I should’ve listened to my instincts then. I’m sure as hell gonna do that now.
“But, first, I have to explain. The potion fooled me, Penelope. Olivia smelled dead. I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.
Couldn’t detect her breathing. Everything my senses told me said I was looking at a body.
Then I spoke to the other witches. There were a couple that told me you argued with Olivia.
They saw you leave the coven house afterward.
When I questioned them separately, their stories matched. ”
I grimace. “Because Olivia coached them well. And that’s how I ended up being framed for her not-quite-death.”
His head jerks. A nod. But, before he can say anything else, a female voice comes from behind me.
“If you had just gotten the compact for me, I wouldn’t have had to do any of that.”