Chapter 13 #2
Riordan jolts at the sound of his name. He clears his throat, and I’m not sure whether he realizes that he should’ve been the one to introduce Penelope, or if hearing his title reminded him of something because he says, “Roxy. Ashton.” A nod toward Gus, sitting on the floor by his expensive-looking leather shoe.
“Gus. Evening. I’m sorry about the delay, but while Ms. Willows was meeting with Delilah”—the head of the Moonburrow coven—“I got the results back from the… altercation this morning.”
The altercation? Oh. The shooting?
“And?”
“We found silver onsite.” A muscle jerks in his square-shaped jaw. “They used silver in the materials.”
You know what else is interesting? Is how careful Riordan is not to mention the word ‘bullets’. It’s like he doesn’t want Penelope to know that our safe, cozy supernatural town is the sort of place that has random shootings—with silver fucking bullets.
Silver isn’t exactly friendly toward shifters.
It burns us, poisons us, and definitely weakens us.
Wolves react the worst to it, but none of us are lining up to get shot with the stuff voluntarily.
And if you get hit in a place that’s fatal on a non-supe body, you can’t regenerate quick enough to stay alive with that shit in you.
Even worse, it’s supes that tend to mess around with silver like that, and only when they’re trying to do a hands-off kill.
Most shifters don’t. They prefer a challenge, they prefer to use their claws and fangs.
But if you’re a supe who doesn’t have claws or fangs…
like prey shifters or witches… then you weenie out and use a gun with silver bullets to commit murder.
Great. That wasn’t an accident, wasn’t it? It was an attempted hit.
“Message received, Rio— I mean, Chief Deputy Lobo. Thank you. And thank you for coming all this way, Ms. Willows.”
She glances at Riordan out of the corner of her eye. “Penelope, please.”
Sure. I’ll call her whatever she wants if she helps Ash. I was going for unusually polite, following Riordan’s lead, but I’ll call her the terrifying cursebreaker if that gets her magic going enough to break the one on Ash.
Sorry, Riordan. Whatever you got going on with Penelope, it can wait. Ash is the priority here.
I pat his chest. To the witch and the wolf, it probably looks like I’m slapping air. “Whenever you’re ready, Penelope, I’d like you to get to cursebreaking.”
She frowns. Riordan, noticing the slight distress on her pretty face, growls under his breath. He catches it, winces, and runs his claws through his hair.
“You won’t be needing me, then. Ms. Willows, if you need a ride back to the museum”—where the witches congregate during the day—“or the coven house”—where they sleep and eat—“you have the number for the sheriff station. Whoever is on duty will get in touch with me and I’ll be back for you as soon as possible.
Roxy… I expect you to be nice to her. Understand? ”
He hasn’t lost control enough that he issues an out-and-out order I wouldn’t be able to refuse. That’s a good sign.
So is the slight scowl instead of a terrifying snarl when I smirk at him and say, “Don’t you worry. Your witch is safe with me.”
He opens his mouth, flashes his fangs at me, but leaves it at that. He does hesitate with his hand on the doorknob, like he knows it’s best if he goes while Penelope does her cursebreaking, but that he doesn’t actually want to leave.
Or, I’m suspecting, it’s his wolf that’s fighting tooth and nail to stick by her.
I wait to see who’s going to win the fight. Without another word, he shoves the door in hard enough that the glass rattles, then forces himself out the door.
Penelope bites down on her bottom lip. I’m not sure if she noticed how weird the Beta is acting or if there’s something else that’s bothering her, but then she says, “Can I speak to Ashton?,” and that’s all I’m focusing on.
“He can hear you,” I tell the witch, “but you might not be able to hear him. That okay?”
She nods, and, for the next half hour, I end up translating between a visibly nervous cursebreaking witch and my ghost mate while Gus supervises from atop the counter like a tiny furry landlord.
Ash explains everything again, and I repeat it to Penelope: Driving into Moonburrow and going to that bakery to look for Honey.
Someone jumping out at him in the back alley since the bakery wasn’t open yet and his opossum told him to head around back for some reason.
Playing dead after he was startled, then waking up as a ghost/soul/whatever he is.
Penelope listens quietly through all of it, fingers fiddling with her skirt as I talk for Ash, then waits for his answers to any of the questions that she has. Unlike Olivia Frost, she doesn’t act like she already knows the answer. She just listens, questions, and waits.
By the time she’s done with her questions, her expression has gone troubled. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I can help you. You see, I don’t think you’ve been cursed at all.”
What?
Ash’s face falls. “I haven’t?” He hangs his head. “Not that I want to be cursed, but if I’m not cursed, then what am I? And how do I fix it?”
Those are some excellent questions, and I repeat them, too.
Penelope purses her lips. “My cursebreaking gift is a rare one in the covens. I don’t know anyone else in the States who has it, and I’ve figured out most of it as I go along myself. Especially since I have two gifts.”
“You do?”
“My coven doesn’t broadcast it as much, but I actually have the ability to speak with the dead.
Ghosts in particular. If a supe soul doesn’t cross over, I can talk to them, help them find their way to the other side.
I knew that Ash wasn’t dead when I could sense him, but I couldn’t see him or speak with him.
He’s something… but he’s not cursed. He’s not dead.
I just don’t know what it is. I mean, it’s definitely magical,” she rushes to clarify.
“But his thanatosis response complicated things. His spirit separated while his body remained preserved. Still, it doesn’t seem like it’s a curse that’s keeping him from going back inside his body. ”
That doesn’t make sense. He looks like a ghost. Hell, upstairs, he looks dead. Olivia said he was cursed… “How do you know he isn’t cursed?”
“That’s more magic. If he was cursed, I would sense the magic on him. Curses are usually green.” Her voice turns apologetic. “I know that doesn’t make sense to anyone who isn’t a witch, but it’s true. When I look in the direction of Ashton, I don’t see green. I see black.”
Black? Black sounds bad to me. Ash, too, since he sucks in an unnecessary breath beside me. “Okay? And what does that mean?”
Her brow creases in an anxious furrow. “I’m not sure.
I’m sorry. I know you want my help… but maybe I’m missing something.
I think, if there was a way for me to talk to the soul myself…
” Penelope’s voice trails to a close as her eyes light up.
She douses the shine an instant later, shaking her head. “No. It’s a bad idea.”
When it comes to saving Ash, there are no bad ideas. “What?” I demand. “What is it?”
“It’s just… I am a witch. Cursebreaking is my specialty, and talking to the dead is a strange offshoot of that according to the head of my coven, but I can do other spells, too. I might be able to cast a charm to give Ashton a voice. He can speak to me and that might help.”
“You don’t trust me? You don’t think I repeated his answers word-for-word?”
Penelope yips, and I’m pretty sure my raccoon is glaring at the twitchy witch. “I do. It’s not that. It’s… it’s magic again. If I hear his voice, I might be able to look closer and see if there is a curse I’m missing.”
Oh. “Don’t mind me. I’m just a little protective of Ash.”
She nods. “Because you’re the one who found him in this state. I understand.”
No, it’s more like he’s supposed to be my mate and I had his dick in my mouth last night, but… sure. I wave in Ash’s direction. “Do what you have to do.”
Penelope pushes her sleeves up. “Here goes nothing.”
Excuse me?
The air in my shop crackles with magic. Everything takes on a tinge of hot pink for a second before it fades. Penelope—who closed her eyes while she cast the spell—pops one open, almost like she’s making sure the building’s still standing.
“Okay,” she says, rubbing her hands on her flowing skirt. “Ashton, if you can hear me, please tell me your full name.”
“Ashton Hale Morgan.”
I tuck that little nugget away from eventual teasing later, then look at Penelope to see if she heard him.
She frowns again. “Darn it. I knew it wouldn’t work.” In the next second, her face brightens. “But at least it didn’t backfire this time.”
What was that? “Backfire? Did you expect your spell to backfire?”
This time, she winces and, yup, I’m not one happy raccoon. “I can’t help it. When a witch is born with a unique gift, the ability has to come from somewhere. No one is better at me when it comes to cursebreaking. But simple spells… they don’t always work.”
“You didn’t say that. You said backfired!” Penelope pales, and I remember Riordan’s not-quite-order to be nice to her. I gentle my tone. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”
“I totally get it. And you’re right. I did say backfire. It’s not that my spells don’t work. It’s that, I try to do one thing, and something else happens. I try my best, and I know I’m doing the motions right, but it also messes up somehow.”
Great, so spellcasting is out. “So what now?”
Someone clears their throat behind me. Assuming it’s Ash, I hold up my hand. “One second, okay? I’m trying to figure out what we’re going to do next.”
And that’s when Ash says, “That wasn’t me, Roxy. Um… you might want to look down.”
At the same time, all three of us—me, Penelope, and Ash—look at the floor.
Gus is reared back on his hind legs. Rising up his full height, his little pink nose twitching like usual, he points at his own chest with his little pink paws.
And then, to the shock of everyone (except for, perhaps, Penelope), he opens his little trap and, in a squeaky voice that suits him, clearly says, “Gus.”