Death's Lover (13 page)

O
uch, that bad, eh, kid?” Celeste grimaced and laid a sympathetic hand on Eve’s shoulder seconds after she’d told the truth of how her date went and ended.

“So no good-bye kiss? He just walked off after your, um…garbled good night?”

A rare moment of silence in the store had allowed the sisters time to gossip and poke fun at her expense.

“I know.” Eve groaned and bent over the glass display of crystal balls by the cash register. She shook her head on her crossed forearms. Her breath fogged up the glass.

Kill me now. Ground, open up and swallow me.

“Oh jeez, she’s got it bad.” Tamryn shook the bright-yellow feather duster. “I mean, that was pathetic,” she said with a laugh.

Eve stood and glared at her unrepentant sister, who at this very moment was pantomiming her most humiliating come-on line in a singsong, obnoxious, girly voice.

“Thanks for that, Tam. I mean, you’re the best sister ever.”

Tamryn lifted a red brow and twisted her lips. “Seriously, Eve. It wasn’t that bad.”

Her heart flipped in her chest. Sleep deprivation and humiliation could wreak havoc on a girl’s self-image. She sniffed. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, if he comes back, then you’ll know he
really
”—she stressed the
e
long and hard—“likes you.”

“Oh jeez.” Eve slapped Tamryn’s arm and marched into the storeroom. “And here I thought you were being nice. I shoulda known better,” she threw over her shoulder.

“Ha. You know me. Never a dull moment.”

Both sisters snickered as the bell above the door jingled heralding the arrival of another customer and a temporary cease-fire to the very embarrassing conversation.

Thinking about it still made Eve want the ground to open up and swallow her. Why had she leaned in for that kiss? Yeah, so things had felt right, seemed totally perfect for that first kiss—was she so long out of practice that she couldn’t even recognize when a man just wasn’t that into her? There were few moments in life she wished she could redo, that had definitely been one of them.

“Excuse me, miss.” An elderly man walked up to her, snapping her from her thoughts.

“Huh?”

He frowned. “Some help, please.”

Shaking the fog of Cian from her brain, she plastered on a tight smile. “Yeah, sure. How can I help?”

He ticked off an enormous list of items. As she scrambled to fill his order, her mind once again returned to Cian. Seemed like no matter how hard she tried to ignore him, she couldn’t.

“…I’ll also need some dried dandelions, white willow, and jasmine.”

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, catching only the tail end of what the elderly witch had asked for.

He looked at her, his mouth opened in a small gap of disgust. He then ticked the list of ingredients off on his fingers impatiently. “Arrowroot, dried dandelions, white willow…”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I got the rest. Let me go get them.”

He lifted a shaggy gray brow.

She turned and headed to the back room, rubbing the tail feather of her still-tender tattoo. Had it only been this morning that she’d made the biggest idiot of herself?

No matter what she did, no matter how many people she’d talked to today, her thoughts kept returning with burning clarity to her good-bye of only hours ago. It also didn’t help that whenever Tamryn walked past she’d throw a snicker or snort over her shoulder.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
She’d run him off.

It was a Friday night, the busiest night of the week for them. Her sisters really needed her to stay focused, and right now, she couldn’t care less. All she wanted to do was go home and forget today had ever happened.

“Seems the witch has a problem,” Celeste said, not glancing up from her grimoire, her personal book of spells. A half-filled cauldron sat before her on the workbench.

“Nothing,” Eve mumbled, quickly collecting the correct amount of herbs and placing them in glass-stoppered vials. “Same ol’ crap Tamryn’s been making fun of me for all day.”

“Eve, really. Hon, I can feel you projecting that angst all over the place. It really wasn’t that bad.” Celeste stuck the tip of her tongue out the side of her mouth as she sprinkled some damiana into the concoction.

A bitter, stringent scent filled the room as the viscous fluid swallowed the leaves.

“What are you making?”

“Aphrodisiac. And stop switching the subject.”

“I didn’t.” Eve glanced at the clock, then out the window. The sun was setting. It was now or never. Her stomach was one raging ball of anxiety. She shouldn’t have done it, told him where to find her. Because if he didn’t come when the sun went down, she’d feel like the world’s biggest dumbass.

“Yes, you did. But, hey, if it makes you feel better to lie—”

“Whatever, Cel. I don’t care. I’m done. Through. So over it.”

“Ha! That’ll be the day. So, you still on for the club tonight?”

“With the screaming meemies, wouldn’t miss it.”

Celeste turned, narrowing bright-green eyes, and smirked. “You know Tam and I really hate that nickname.”

“Well, if you guys didn’t always live up to it…”

Her sister shook her head with a small smile then turned back to the cauldron.

Eve walked away, the hissing noise of bubbling brew following in her wake.

“Okay. I’ve got everything you’ve asked for here. Do you need anything else?” she asked the elder leaning heavily against the wall. He ran a hand down his whiskered cheek, glanced at the vials in her arms, and shook his head.

“No, that should do.”

“Okay, then let’s go check out.”

She couldn’t help it: when she walked around the counter she glanced at the clock again. Five ’til nine. This sucked.

“No matter how many times you look at that thing, it’s not going to change to your liking.”

“What?” she asked, looking at her customer. He reached into his gray coat and pulled out a brown leather wallet.

“Time’s a funny thing. Want it to move fast and it won’t. Need it to slow down and you can’t seem to catch a breath.”

“True.” She only gave him half an ear, not really in the mood to philosophize.

“And some of us”—he cocked his head and opened his wallet, pulling out a twenty—“don’t have the luxury of it. Sometimes it simply runs out.”

Her finger remained poised over the zero button, her gaze rolling to his, a chill like frost sweeping through her body and down her spine. “What?”

He had her attention now.

He shrugged, his bespectacled gaze boring into hers. Then he smiled, exposing coffee-stained teeth. “I’m simply saying. You never know when it’s your time. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

She narrowed her eyes. That was not what he’d meant. She’d swear it. His gaze had been intent with hidden meaning, as if he were trying to convey the urgency of what he said through a look.

“Do you do divination?” Was he trying to tell her some future she was yet unaware of? Her heart clenched.

Tamryn was into divination. Good at it too. She checked the tarots with regularity. Surely she’d have known if there was some black mark over Eve’s near future?

Still. There’d been power in his words. She shivered.

He passed her the money, his fingers making the briefest contact with hers. A current like a bolt of electricity traveled from his hand to hers, zipping through her body with the speed of thought. She sucked in a breath as her nerves tingled with a rush of adrenaline. Then it was gone.

She frowned, still feeling unhinged and yet at the same time as normal as she’d ever been. He was smiling.

“Of course I don’t, my dear.”

The quickening of ancient power flowed through Cian’s veins. In the next instant he was slammed with a mental impression of mind-numbing fear.

He choked on it and took a step toward the shop. He’d sworn not to interfere, not to get involved with Eve again. He stared at the door of the Witch’s Brew, indecision warring in him.

He’d told Lise he wouldn’t see her again. Given a million weak reasons why he couldn’t. But it seemed his feet had a mind of their own. He tried to tell himself he was only seeing to Eve’s safety. Yeah. And The Morrigan hadn’t really beat him to within an inch of his cursed life; it had all been a serious misunderstanding on his part.

A hunched elderly man walked out the door, a brown bag clutched in his hand.

Cian ran across the road, not stopping to think what he’d do when he reached the man, but reacting on pure, primal instinct. He grabbed the slight man by the neck and slammed him against a green Dumpster sitting against the alleyway between shops. The blow forced the man to drop his bag. The unmistakable sound of shattering glass rang out on impact.

All Cian saw was red.

“Why are you here?” he barked, his frustration and fears for Eve making him brazen and reckless.

A black mist circled in the man’s eyes, eating away at the brown until the entire orb was a dark, polished ebony. “Away!”

Cian was thrown to the ground. Needleworks of pain flared through his head. A wet trickle of blood slid down the side of his forehead.

“How dare you touch me like that?”

“What did you do to her, Dagda?” he snarled.

The small, figure leaned over him. A sneer twisted his thin lips. “Dare to touch me like that again, death, and you won’t have to worry about Chaos anymore.”

Cian got to his knees, holding on to his stomach and glaring at Dagda. “What did you do?”

“Your precious little witch is fine. As much as you might hate it, we’re working the same side. The Morrigan’s been whipped into bloodlust. She wants the woman, and she’ll do anything to have her. I want her safe.”

“Why?” Maybe finally someone would give him the answers he desperately needed.

Dagda exhaled, his gaze sharp and assessing. “Lise has told me you’ve talked. You understand there are some things I can’t tell you, but I’m making plans.”

“Plans for what? I’ve prolonged the inevitable. You know it. I know it. Give me something. Tell me
something
.” He was begging now. Fine, he’d beg; he’d do anything to keep her safe.

If he was being honest with himself, he knew his desire to save Eve stemmed more from wanting her to get to know him, to see if maybe what he felt she felt too. That perhaps in this life there was actually someone who could look at him the way he’d first seen her looking at her husband. It wasn’t altruism that made him want to fight for her, it was desire, pure and simple.

If anyone could help him, show him how. Pride took a back seat to her safety.

“Chaos has plans of her own. The likes of which I’m sure neither of us will spot until it’s too late. You’ve still got time.”

“And why should you care, Dagda?” he spat. “Why are you involving yourself in this? Why did you send me to her? Why? What’s so important about Eve?”

Dagda glanced away, clenching his jaw as if debating his next words. Cian waited, not breathing, not wanting to kill his chances of finding out some much-needed information.

The king of the fae sighed and rolled his gaze to Cian’s face. “There is a prophecy…”

Cian’s flagging spirits jerked.

“I don’t know everything. However, I can tell you this. An oracle of the chosen came to me long ago speaking of war, destruction…death. All over again. Except this time, all of humanity, normals and supers alike, will destroy themselves.”

He frowned. “When?”

“I don’t know. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Or even a thousand years from now. But it’s an absolute guarantee.”

Cian’s stomach gave a sick roll.

“What do Eve and I have to do with this?” he growled, wondering why the god would think he cared. Then he thought about Eve, his beautiful dark rose, and he did care.

Then another thought intruded. This was impossible. There was no known lore to substantiate this wild claim.

Dagda shook his head. “I tell truth.”

“Does the queen know?”

“No. She is goddess of strife. Even if she were to receive the information, she wouldn’t heed it. To her it would seem impractical. She was created for the sole purpose of causing disruption. The Morrigan is doing what she does best.”

“What do Eve and I have to do with this, then? If the Earth is to be destroyed, me fighting to save her life seems insignificant in comparison.”

Dagda clenched his jaw. “The chosen have created one perfect mate for each grim reaper.”

“What does that mean? So we each find our mates and miraculously the world is saved?” He snorted. How stupid did the god take him for?

“Yours was the face I saw in the prophecy, Cian. I don’t know if Eve is your mate. Or why it’s even important you find one. If there’s any chance, no matter how slim, that finding her might somehow avert this fate, then I’m going to do everything in my power to see that she is safe.”

Something was missing. Some piece to the puzzle. It didn’t make sense. How could his finding a mate help the Earth avert a catastrophe of that magnitude? “What aren’t you telling me, Dagda?”

“That’s all I was given. Remember this. In two more days The Morrigan will strike. She’ll be cunning. Keep aware of everyone. Strangers, friends, even her family. I do not know what she plans, but it is coming, and if I know my queen, it will come in a way least expected.”

Cian stood, shoving blunt fingers through his hair. The air vibrated with the whistle of a howling wind, and he turned his head for a split second, huddling against the strength of the ripping gale. Then there was silence, an eerie hum of nothing. As quick as the wind had started, it vanished, and with it, the earth god.

An impotent rage filled his gut with fire, gnawed away at his insides. He’d wanted information and yet this was the last thing he’d expected to be told. It was almost too much to take in. This went beyond protecting Eve. And he still couldn’t understand what her significance was. To him, she meant everything. But how could one lone witch and death save the world? Learning more had helped nothing, only deepened the mystery.

“Cian.”

He snapped around, bent at the knees, ready to tear whatever it was to pieces.