Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Some lore claimed saying certain people’s names out loud could summon them.
Like Beetlejuice. Or Bloody Mary. My fingers hesitated over the top of my keyboard.
Typing out my mother’s fake name seemed like opening a door better left shut, but I had to know if she’d made a life in this country.
I had to know who she was pretending to be.
The memories didn’t feel as painful today. Talking to Cernunnos had ripped off the old scab of the wound, allowing them to heal just a little.
Two days of sleep and a Downton Abbey binge marathon made everything better, too.
I typed in Minka Belyaev and hit enter. The first page of results showed nothing.
The name wasn’t unusual, and knowing her, she’d planned it that way.
I dug into the search results for a little while with mixed results.
The image tab was less than helpful. Pictures weren’t a thing when I was growing up, and I couldn’t imagine she’d taken to them now, not when her proclivities could land her on the FBI’s most wanted list.
I stumbled on an online apothecary. Innocent at first, but some of the herbs and supplies she carried had my eyebrows rising and piqued my interest. I remembered some of the same herbs in our home.
How could I forget? Some of her worst punishments came inside her workroom, the smells of patchouli and valerian meshed in my brain so deeply my fingers hurt every time I smelled them.
She’d taken a hammer to them when I got my lessons wrong, smashing bone and cartilage, damaging my fingers so badly, even my vampiric healing couldn’t keep up.
I shuddered and shoved the memories away.
Each page I flipped through tugged at me. I hit the Contact button and saw her name at the bottom. The About Us page had no pictures, but the bio was enough to make my stomach turn. This was her. It had to be.
I wrote down the address in the Notes area of my phone. She lived in the territory Evie had claimed. What were the odds of that?
I’d lived too long to believe in coincidences like that. After a few more fruitless searches, I shut my laptop down and went into the kitchen to scrounge something up for dinner, even though it was past nine p.m.
Tomorrow was a work day, and I had a shit ton of things to re-order so we didn’t run out of supplies. The day after, I was off. I’d travel then and see if I could find Minka without being spotted.
If she was even still there.
My phone pinged.
Soren has eyes on the witches. They’re out of his borrowed territory, but still in the area.
I frowned. Cernunnos might be interested to know they’d obeyed the spirit of his command but not the letter.
Are they still moving?
Yes. Right toward mine.
I chuckled.
How do you want me to respond?
I sent a thorough description of Minka and asked Soren to check if she was with them.
Intercept when they step into your territory and see what kind of info they’re willing to give up on their reasons for being there.
Want me to kill them?
I laughed even knowing Ethan would if I asked him to.
Not yet. Approach with caution. I sent him the description of my mother.
My phone dinged with a message from Soren.
Negative. No witch by that description. Are you alright?
I’m fine, thank you. Heard you had some stray cats in your territory.
Fucking Cernunnos was his response.
Evie’s dad was delightfully passive aggressive sometimes.
Be careful and keep it in your pants.
In typical Soren fashion, he responded with How about I keep it in your pants?, adding a wink emoji at the end.
Ignoring Soren, I sent one more text to Ethan. Soren said the woman wasn’t with them. If you see anyone matching her description, do not approach her.
I tapped my fingers on the counter and fired off one more, knowing he’d have questions.
I’m serious. She might smell my presence and become curious.
Okay. That was a shitty way to explain Mom losing her ever-loving shit, but I wasn’t ready to re-hash everything. Not with Ethan.
My phone rang, his name popping up on the screen.
I hit ignore. Cooking. No time to talk.
The phone rang again. I hit ignore once more.
Moira. Answer the phone.
Cooking.
He called one more time. I silenced my phone and went to the freezer to grab the ground beef.
Ethan called two more times before giving up.
My shoulders slumped with relief. I dumped the diced onion into the pot of browning ground beef and added a healthy amount of minced garlic, cumin, chili powder, salt, pepper, onion powder, a little Greek oregano, and a touch of dried habanero.
It might not be Tuesday, but it was definitely taco night.
I’d just finished rough chopping a shit ton of cilantro when the doorbell rang. The visitor’s scent was obscured by all the spices and the simmering meat. “It’s open!” I called, secure enough on Rowan’s territory to know whoever was here meant no harm.
It was probably Evie.
“I’m making tacos if you want some!”
Ethan stepped into view. I blinked.
“I want,” he said, his eyebrows lifting at the spread of fixings I had on the kitchen island.
“Oh. Umm. Sure.”
He waved his cell at me. “You didn’t answer. I tried to call before coming over. Because of your boundaries.”
I pointed the knife at him. “How many of those potions do you have left?”
His eyes widened innocently. “Moira. I was already here.”
“Lies,” I grumbled. I’d given the Lord a supply of the travel potions during my time at his Keep. With the way he was blowing through them, he’d be out in a few weeks, which would stop him from popping onto Keep property every time I didn’t answer the phone when he thought I should.
I stared at my pan of ground beef mixture and back at him. “You’re hungry?”
He snorted. “I’m always hungry, and you know I love your tacos.”
My heart warmed at his words. He did love my tacos and had hounded me to make them weekly when I stayed with him. If I’d known he’d pop in, I would have doubled the meat.
We hadn’t seen each other or talked since our conversation. His absence hurt my heart, but having firm boundaries in place was good for both of us. I waved the knife at him. “I only made a pound and a half of meat, so you have to save me some.”
He placed a hand on his heart. “I promise.”
“Alright,” I grumbled. “I’m almost finished.”
I eyed the cheese grater and the chunk of cotija on the counter. “Want to grate that?” I gestured with the knife.
Ethan frowned at the contraption. “Mind showing me how to use that?”
I set my knife down and opened the top of the grater. “Put a chunk of cheese in that large enough for the top not to fit. Gently push the top back on and turn the handle.”
Ethan nodded and took over, his eyes lighting up when the cotija came out finely grated. “Hell. I need to get one of these.”
I snorted and went back to chopping the cilantro.
When he finished the cheese, he leaned over and took a sniff of the herb. “You didn’t have that last time.” He reached for a piece of the cilantro. I smacked his hand with the flat of the knife.
“No! You put it on the taco. It’s a whole process.”
Ethan stared at me wide-eyed. “Did you just smack me with a knife?”
“Cilantro is sacred.”
“It’s just a tiny piece.”
“Yes, and it won’t be nearly as delicious if you eat it by itself.”
He sighed and plunked onto one of the kitchen stools. “Fine. Tutor me in the fine art of tacos, Moira.”
“Don’t be a smart ass.”
Ethan chuckled and took a hunk of the cheese. “You didn’t have this either.”
A curious look crossed his face. “What is this?”
“Cotija.”
“I like it.”
“Good because that’s how tacos should be.”
“Why didn’t you have this at the house?”
I eyed him. “Has no one ever made you real tacos before?”
His eyes darkened for a brief moment, making me wonder if I overstepped. “No,” he finally said.
“You live in the middle of nowhere. Sourcing ingredients like this is difficult in remote places.” I pointed to the cilantro. “I grew this in the courtyard garden, and the cheese came from the shop downtown.”
His eyes narrowed. “If you wanted things like this, why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I could still make tacos without them. Trying to find these specific ingredients might not have been easy.” I frowned. “Well, the cilantro might not have been too difficult, but the cheese would.”
“Rowan has a cheese guy?”
“A woman. And they didn’t have cotija either until I made a specific request. Sometimes I cook for the Pack, so it’s worth her carrying it because you know what it’s like cooking for shifters. She makes a month’s worth of rent just on the cotija we order.”
Ethan grunted. “I wonder how hard it would be to get a cheese guy.”
I laughed. “You don’t have a downtown area. Not really. Might not be worth the effort.”
“Do you want cotija when you’re at the Keep?”
I set my knife down and studied him. “Are you inviting me back?”
His dark eyes warmed. “Darling, I never wanted you to leave.”
I scoffed even as my blood heated. “Your Pack was starting to get weird.”
“So?”
“I’m a vampire.”
“Sort of.”
“Ethan,” I groaned. “We were spending too much time together, and your shifters were starting to ask uncomfortable questions. You started getting weird.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And yet, I didn’t ask you to leave.”
“You should have. I did what was best for both of us.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Alright then. If that hadn’t happened, how long would you have stayed?”
I would have stayed forever, even knowing he’d never care about me like I did him. “No idea.”
My pause was too long. Satisfaction gleamed in Ethan’s eyes. “I see,” he murmured. “Interesting.”
“There’s nothing interesting about this. I’m back home and have no plans to leave.”
The oven timer went off. Screaming a mental thank you at the good timing, I grabbed the pot holder and took the shells out, while hoping Ethan would drop the subject.
I had a wonderful time at his Keep. I loved his people; I loved the wild remoteness of his territory. I loved sitting outside watching deer and eagles and all the animals Ethan prevented his people from hunting. I loved the garden I built and maintained.
If I went back, my heart would slowly break.
“Come back.”
His voice was low and rough and sent the hair on the back of my neck. I took the lid off the meat, set it aside, and gave the beans one more stir. “Help yourself.”
“Moira.”
I put five taco shells on a plate and handed it to him. “Boundaries, Ethan.”
He sighed and took the plate. “We’re not done with this conversation.”
“Meat first. Then beans. Then all the fixings.”
He eyed me. “And then the cilantro?”
“Start with a little and see how you like it.” I grabbed the other plate and started making mine, shoving a shit load of cilantro on top when I was finished.
His eyebrows lifted. “Is that a normal amount of that stuff?”
“Nope,” I said happily and plopped onto the living room couch.
Ethan came in a little while later. I’d already turned the television on, hoping we could stay away from the heavy topics tonight.
When he reached over and turned the volume down, I had to stifle my sigh.
“I don’t want to talk about this. You know why I left.”
“This isn’t about the Keep. Tell me what’s going on with Soren and the witches. Everything. Something happened to you there.”
I crunched into my taco and chewed long enough for him to roll his eyes. We dug in and ate in blissful silence for a while. Ethan got up after finishing his first taco and added more cilantro to his others.
“You’re awfully bossy.” Cernunnos encouraged me to talk about what happened. Doing so felt like trying to exercise an atrophied muscle.
“I care about you. If there’s something wrong, I’d like to know about it, so I can help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
He took a bite of his taco and watched me.
I thought about it. Ethan had a lot of connections I didn’t. He might be able to help me more than I could help myself.
“It’s that woman, isn’t it? The one you told me to stay away from.”
“This conversation stays between you and me.”
Ethan put his plate down and got up to rummage in my cabinets.
“What are you doing?”
“You got any of Cliona’s booze?”
I snorted. “Yes. Why?”
“This sounds like we might need some.”
“Left hand cabinet. I like her flavored vodkas but get whatever you want.”
Ethan made us both a drink, flavored vodka tonics, and plunked one down before me.
“First, darling, anything you ever tell me about yourself stays right in the vault. Second, this woman did something to you, didn’t she?”
I took a fortifying sip of my drink and began to tell the story.