Chapter 4 #2
“Thank you, and a free tip? The sin on you is stupid thick. You’re a proverbial feather away from the universe doing something to balance your scales and fucking the consequences.
I don’t recommend adding to the karmic load.
If you’re stuck here, you might, I dunno, try to be nicer and make some friends? ”
Ophelia looked at her blankly. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, granted, there are a lot of jerks in this town, but we’re not all bad, and ’tis the season.”
Ophelia looked at her blankly. “What season?”
“Imbolic,” Jena huffed. “It’s when you examine and discard the things holding you back. You know, like your shitty attitude? You might actually try being nice to people and see what happens.”
“Oh, no,” Ophelia laughed. “I don’t—peopling isn’t one of my things. I meant are you serious about the sin stuff. You can see it?”
Jena pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, kind of, it’s—whatever. It’s my line’s bent. All witches have one, and your karma’s filthy, which is why I don’t need you fondling my merchandise.”
“Huh. Good to know. So, when can you do whatever you’re gonna do?”
Jena cocked a brow. “Are you agreeing to my terms?”
Ophelia buzzed her lips. It wasn’t like she had any other recourse. “Fine. No hitting on Chase, and I’ll try to be less of a bitch.”
“Thank you,” Jena muttered, walking over to the charms dangling from a velvet-backed display. “Is silver a problem, or is that more of the mystique?”
“Mystique.” Jena shot her a look, and Ophelia shrugged. “What? I don’t make the rules, I just had to follow them, and FYI, the garlic thing is bullshit, too.”
Jena sighed, shaking her head, and chose an elongated oval charm on a fine chain. Runes ran around its edge, but the center was a plain with a slight burnish. She closed her eyes, chanting, and purple sparked at her fingertips, traveling along the necklace and flaring around the pendant.
“Mazel tov,” Jena said, handing it over.
Ophelia took it from her. “That’s it?”
The witch cocked a brow. “What were you expecting?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Ophelia answered truthfully.
Witches weren’t anything she’d been exposed to growing up at the group home, so what their magic could and couldn’t do was pretty much a mystery.
That hadn’t changed since she’d gotten VS.
Vampires didn’t use magic and didn’t particularly trust anyone who did.
Which she supposed evened things out, since vampires kept their abilities on the DL, too.
“You should be good as long as you wear it,” Jena said, going back behind the counter. “If something triggers it, bring it back. The node should re-prime it once you’re in Havers, but if it makes you feel better, I can check.”
Ophelia’s eyes narrowed as she slipped it around her neck. “What do you mean ‘if something triggers it?’”
“It’s an ill-intent ward, and you haven’t exactly endeared yourself to anyone. Trust me, the way most of the women in town look at you, it’ll be activated before you get halfway down the block.”
Ophelia frowned, but the witch wasn’t wrong. “Thanks,” she said, surprising herself with her own sincerity after having parroted the vile word so many times at the Citadel.
“Aww. You’re welcome,” Jena said all saccharine, batting her lashes. “See? Now, was that so hard?”
Ophelia glowered at her. “You have no idea.”
Gideon crouched over the steering wheel of his long black sedan, gritting his teeth as he passed through the town of Fayet. Gods, he hadn’t been back to this blighted hamlet since he’d first accepted their retainer, and as hard as it was to believe, it was even worse than he remembered.
Not that there was much of it, and what there was certainly wasn’t anything to write home about.
Main Street was ruinously pitted and, aside from a questionable liquor store on the corner, laundromat, and some new age headshop, it was rife with boarded up storefronts.
The government complex was all of two buildings, one of which doubled as the local soup kitchen.
The icy, rain-slicked streets were empty, and the canted lights lining the way buzzed and flickered intermittently.
He swore, swerving into the oncoming lane to avoid a pothole that would’ve swallowed his front end.
Havers interrupting the leyline running through Fayet had hit the town harder than he’d thought.
It was no wonder they were looking to get eighteen million with this lawsuit.
Quite frankly, he should’ve asked for more if they wanted any chance of reviving the dump.
At this point, they were probably better off bulldozing it and starting from scratch.
Gideon swept a finger over his lip, sitting back as he merged onto the blessedly well-paved county road leading to Havers.
Wondering for the umpteenth time in the past hour how any of this had become his problem.
The chain of events after Ophelia had disappeared was murky at best, but some salient points he remembered with crystalline clarity.
The Vampire Court had approached him a scant week after she’d left him at the altar, and he’d signed their proffered contract without thinking twice.
Getting away from the West Coast had been a godsend at the time, and the amount they offered him to do so was obscene.
He frowned, thinking about his retainer.
It’d always niggled why they’d made babysitting Fayet a term of the contract, but not enough for him to stop taking their money.
Especially since he’d only been called to represent the town in a handful of low profile complaints. The Vampire Court’s interests had kept him occupied elsewhere, and Fayet had been relegated to an afterthought.
Until now.
He was positive that was entirely due to the node being in play.
Gideon ran a hand over his jaw, more than familiar with the magical repositories.
The cathedral his family had watched over for centuries was situated over one.
He and the rest of his kind, grotesques—gargoyles, on this side of the ocean—had been created for the sole purpose of protecting the arcane hotspots where leylines crossed.
At least, in the old country they had. Over here, covens had assumed the role, supporting one of their members as guardian.
From what he could gather, that was passed down through the maternal line, and in Havers, the family charged with the task had almost been snuffed out, then the position abandoned for decades.
It was a situation ripe for exploitation, though he didn’t understand all of the implications of the Vampire Court gaining access.
Grotesques were born of the node’s magic and immune to it in all forms, save the node itself.
They couldn’t use it, but then again, neither could vampires, which begged the question, why did they want it so badly?
His frown deepened. A better question was, why did he care? Delving into the motives of his employer or the ethics of his cases wasn’t something he’d bothered himself with for a very long time, and at this point, to no purpose.
Still, the last of his conversation with Vesper bothered him.
He passed a sign for Havers. Twelve more miles. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, almost there, and then he’d finally get closure.
Ophelia.
Gods, why did she have to show up now? Gideon riffled his hair, his jaw set and fully aware how asinine hunting her down like this was. He didn’t care. He’d find her if he had to rip the goddamned town apart. He was getting an explanation, damn it.
Gideon shook his head, forcing himself to focus on navigating the narrow, curving road clinging to the cliff face, instead of the unwelcome ache in his chest. The freezing rain had begun to come down harder, and the waves crashing against the cliffs below were ominous.
He rounded a corner, and an odd violet shimmer lit the horizon.
Gideon frowned. That had to be the ward he’d read about.
Interesting. If that was real, was the bit about the dragon real as well?
The photos splashed over every front page nationwide had to have been sensationalized.
An abnormally large wyvern, perhaps. There was no way Havers had been home to a dragon, and that they’d manage to slay the beast was farcical.
Gideon slowed as he approached the opalescent curtain, trying to gauge how far it went up. He should be able to pass through without issue, but if the node beneath the cathedral was any measure, Havers’s would test him.
Or rather the spirits residing inside of it would, if there were enough of them to have gained a collective sentience.
Gideon doubted that was the case, the network of nodes and leylines on this side of the ocean was far too young.
But, if its guardian was skilled enough, she could direct it to deny him entry.
In that eventuality, he supposed he could attempt to fly over it, though he didn’t relish leaving his car here.
His jaw tightened. Supposition was futile, and it would be what it would be. He kept driving.
As anticipated, the car slowed as it hit the boundary, moving as if through jelly. Gideon gritted his teeth at the tingle of the node’s regard lingering upon his person, plucking at him.
That had nothing to do with its guardian.
Good Gods, it was strong. He’d never felt anything like it, not even in the old country. How was that possible? His breath quickened, his skin turning to stone as it slowly let him pass.
A distinct sense of the node’s amused anticipation rolled over Gideon, along with its welcome, as if it’d been expecting him.
Sweat beaded across his forehead. That couldn’t be good.
He stopped the car on the other side of the ward, his pulse thudding in his ears. He retracted his earlier summation. The node was definitely sentient, and with that amount of power to call on, slaying a dragon was firmly within the realm of possibilities.
Gideon’s stomach churned, positive that no matter how persuasive his arguments in the courtroom were, Fayet wasn’t getting its hands on Havers or its node.
Not without the node’s consent. He’d discounted the rumors of the magical repository rejecting other candidates as guardian, but those abruptly tracked.
It clearly had its own agenda, and crossing its will struck him as being exceedingly unwise.
Gideon ran a hand over his face and continued on, driving down into the light-speckled valley below, and more than a little discomforted at the firm impression that he had a part to play in whatever was coming.