Obsidian Curse (7 page)

Chapter 13

I flew out of the cedar room. “What? Who?”

Blade pointed to the laptop. I rushed over to it just in time to see a patrol car pull up. I watched in horror as Leo got out, scanned the area, and made his way toward my front door.

“Dammit! What is he doing here?”

I whirled around, did a quick body check. None of my weapons were visible.

“Uh-oh,” Blade said.

Words I didn’t want to hear. When you’re a key member of a secret society and you’re locked away in your hidden lair with a policeman in your driveway, the last thing you want to hear from the author whose parents’ murder you’re helping to solve is
uh-oh
.

I put a finger to my temple. “What now?”

“Isn’t that your date from earlier?”

My head spun around so fast I was certain I gave myself whiplash.

“No, no, no!” I shouted at the laptop.

Blade watched the screen, studying Leo as Chance pulled into the driveway. Leo turned, waited for Chance to get out of his truck.

Blade cocked his head. “They don’t look happy to see each other,” he noted.

“That’s because the man with the gun is my ex.”

“And the guy getting out of the truck with the biceps and the work boots is the current?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. What were we going to do?

Blade said, “You know, you lead an interesting life, Stacy. Someone should write a book about you.”

I popped my eyes open. “Rule number three, Blade, no books about me.”

He shrugged, turned back to the monitor, and asked, “Do you have any popcorn?”

I glared at him. “So not funny.” I glanced back to the screen. Leo and Chance were still talking.

Blade said, “We could just hide out in here. Pretend you’re not home.”

“Except Leo will check the perimeter and find the busted window.” I shut the laptop. “Come on, we have some cleaning to do. Fast.”

I unlocked the door and the three of us scurried through the bedroom and into the kitchen. Well, Blade and I scurried. Thor swaggered.

The broom and dustpan were in the hall closet. I tossed Blade the broom and he swept up the glass from the skull as I stooped to collect the debris.

I stood, frantically searching for a place to dump it.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t toss it in the garbage. Leo might look there.”

“Why would he search your trash?”

“Because he’s a cop. He does cop things like that. It’s annoying.”

The doorbell rang and I stood there like an idiot looking for a place to stash the broken bits.

Thor grunted, walked over to me, and gave me a pointed look. He turned and stuck his nose in the empty dog food bag sitting in the corner of the kitchen.

“Thanks,” I said.

I shoved the dustpan and its contents inside, rolled the bag shut, and went to answer the door.

I gave Blade a look back and said over my shoulder, “Remember, not a word.”

The author made a motion like he was zipping his mouth closed.

Chance and Leo filled up all the space on my porch. Chance looked confused. Leo looked uncomfortable.

“Well, this is a surprise,” I said.

Leo said, “Sorry to barge in like this, but someone called in a disturbance.” He craned his neck around my shoulder and said, “Hi there” to Blade.

I shook my head, gave my best perplexed face, and said, “No disturbance here.”

Chance eyed me suspiciously. “Who’s that?” He nodded toward Blade.

“He’s an author.”

Leo and Chance exchanged a look.

Chance said, “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

The problem with having two men you’ve dated standing on your porch at the same time while you lie to their faces is that they both know you’re lying. And somehow, teams are chosen. Not in your favor, I might add.

“Of course,” I said, reluctantly. I stepped aside and the two of them walked through the threshold.

Thor settled himself on the couch in prime viewing area of the mess that was unfolding before him. He bounced his head back and forth from Chance to Leo to Blade and me.

Then he groaned as if he just knew this wouldn’t end well.

“It’s freezing in here,” Chance said.

Leo studied the living room for a moment then walked over to the kitchen counter. His gaze fell on the window. He approached it and stuck his head out. “That’s because the window has been smashed.”

Chance looked at me and said, “No disturbance, huh?” There was something different about him. His voice was deeper, his eyes darker. It flashed and then it was gone.

“Oh, that?” I pointed toward the window. “I did that.”

“How?” Chance asked.

“Why?” said Leo at the same time.

One thing they didn’t teach at witch boot camp was how to think on your feet. I made a mental note to write a letter to the director suggesting he add that to the curriculum as soon as I got the opportunity.

“Um” was all I said.

“Research,” Blade said, stepping forward.

I stared at him, grateful that writers lie for a living. His face was statue serious. His eyes met mine briefly as he pasted on a smile.

“Miss Justice here is helping me with a story I’m writing about Amethyst. Several, actually. ‘True Crimes in the Jewel of the Midwest.
’
”

“That’s a mouthful,” Chance said.

Blade said, “It’s a working title.”

He extended his hand to Leo, who stood closest to him. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Blade Knight.”

Leo squinted his eyes as if looking at Blade for the first time. Then his face lit up as he shook the man’s hand. “Blade Knight? You write the Tracey Stone books.”

“I know,” Blade said, playfully.

“It’s such an honor to meet you, Mr. Knight.”

“Call me Blade.”

Leo beamed. “Blade. I’ve read all your books. I especially liked the last one,
Stone Cold
.”

My mouth was hanging open watching this exchange. Leo was actually gushing. He looked like a twelve-year-old who just met the Avengers. Not the cast of the movie, but the actual superheroes.

“Well, I’d be happy to sign your books if you like. I’m having a signing tomorrow night at Buxom Books.”

“I’ll be there,” Leo said, still grinning like a teenager who just got to third base. I watched as Chance stood by, silently sizing up the writer. His gaze drifted around the cottage and fell on the broken window. I still hadn’t swept up the glass from the pane.

Leo was babbling on about being Blade’s biggest fan and that Kathy Bates character from
Misery
flashed in my mind.

He was saying, “And that part, where Tracey’s car plunges through the icy lake, man, that was intense. That’s where the title came from, right?” Leo said.

“Right,” said Blade.

“I had no idea you were such an avid reader,” I said to Leo.

He briefly turned to look at me as if he had completely forgotten I was there. “These books are great and the main character, Tracey Stone, she’s an FBI agent who’s always getting herself into these tight situations.” He paused, cocked his head. “Kind of like you, Stacy.”

Chance narrowed his eyes at the author.

“Like me?”

“A little,” he said. “Except she’s badass.” Leo turned back to Blade, who looked to be growing increasingly uneasy.

I tried not to be insulted as I thought about what he had said about the car diving into an icy lake.

Because that actually did happen to me months ago. And yet, I just met the man. Unless…

Was there more to Blade’s story than he had led me to believe?

“Wait a minute,” Chance said loudly. “What kind of research?”

Blade excused himself from Leo and went to introduce himself to Chance. The men shook hands.

Chance said, “You look familiar.”

“My face is on every jacket cover,” Blade said.

“No. That isn’t it. I feel like we’ve met before.”

Blade said, “I don’t believe so.”

Chance seemed to file the inkling away and asked again, “So, the research. How does it tie in to breaking the window?”

Chance looked from me to Blade.

Blade said, “May I?”

“Be my guest,” I said.

“Well, I’m sure you recall the incident involving the dead girl found at the Black Opal?” Blade said.

Leo stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away. He hated to talk about that. He was related to the murderer.

I suddenly realized where Blade was headed with this. “That’s right, a rock was thrown through my window.” I regretted opening my mouth immediately after the words fell out because the tone I used was that of a game show contestant answering a question right rather than that of confirmation.

Chance cocked his head toward me. “So you reenacted that?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to. I was showing Blade the size of the rock, where it was tossed from, and it just slipped.”

“It slipped?”

Usually this line of questioning was Leo’s territory, but Chance must have picked up that the chief was useless at this point. He was doing a damn good job at playing detective and I didn’t like it one bit.

I crossed my arms. “What can I say? Maybe there was pent-up anger inside me and subconsciously I wanted to break something.” This time my tone was stern.

Blade took that as a cue. “Well, I’d best be going. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Justice.” He handed me a card and Chance watched as I stuffed it in the pocket of my jeans.

“I’ll walk you out,” Leo said. “And if there’s anything you need while you’re in town, don’t hesitate to call me.” He stopped to pull a card from his wallet and Chance put his arm up to block his path.

“So that’s it, Inspector Clouseau? You’re just going to accept that answer and let him walk out of here?”

Leo’s jaw hardened. “I can’t arrest him for sharing a pizza with your girlfriend, Sponge Bob Square Neck.”

I stepped forward. “Stop.”

Chance lowered his arm and Leo glared at him. He tossed me a salute, but he didn’t say another word as he left to join Blade outside.

I locked the door behind them.

When I turned back around, Chance was running his hand along where the bullet had splintered the doorframe. He looked up at me.

“I can’t wait to hear the explanation for this.”

Chapter 14

So I told him. About Blade, the real reason he was in town, about the skull and the shots. I told him everything I could, everything I was allowed to, except the one thing I really wanted to tell him. For that, I would need permission from the Council.

When I finished speaking, Chance sat back on the couch, his hand gently stroking my dog, and thought for a long time.

Finally he looked at me. “I understand that somehow you feel obligated to help this man. That there’s something about your family, your witchiness, that makes you compelled to solve every murder that floats across your desk.” He paused, took a sip of water.

I waited for him to say more, to yell and scream that endangering myself for a complete stranger was utterly stupid—and it was. But I wasn’t just the Seeker of Justice for the Council and what they protect. It was a part of who I was now, my personal code of ethics. I had taken an oath to fight for justice and, for me, that train didn’t just stop at my door, at my family’s door, but for anyone who needed it.

And for those who deserved to be punished.

Instead of ordering me to stop investigating crimes that didn’t concern me, Chance said in that soft, gentle way of his, “I’m really glad you told me.”

He got up from the couch, came over to me, and took me in his arms. He kissed me on the lips, soft at first, but his kisses grew more demanding, more urgent, animalistic even. It was more fervent than he had ever kissed me before and I wasn’t sure I liked this new technique, but I couldn’t break away. It was almost as if we were both so caught up in our passion that it became a living, breathing thing. His hands wove themselves in my hair, tugging me closer.

Then they got stuck thanks to the stupid candy still lodged in my mane.

Chance pulled away as if something bit him. His hand was glued to my hair and he had to wiggle it free, taking a few strands with it.

He met my eyes and a slow grin spread across his face.

“Want some help with that, Xena?” he asked.

He had started calling me that after he discovered my arsenal. I hated it at first, but it was growing on me.

“Yes, please.”

After six shampoos and some creative hairstyling on Chance’s part, my hair was gunk-free and relatively intact. I made a mental note to be extra nice to Pickle the next time I saw him.

Chance was towel-drying my hair when we locked eyes in the mirror and he whispered in my ear, “Are you up for a sparring match?”

“I thought you said I needed to get a new partner.”

A sexy smile curved all the way up to his eyes. “No way. I don’t ever want you to get a new partner for the kind of sparring I’m talking about, baby.”

I stood. “Think you can catch me?”

“I already did,” he said and he was right.

He carried me into the bedroom and we made love, gently at first, but then his desire seemed to overcome him and I met it with an equal fever. He looked down at me and suddenly his eyes darkened again and he flicked his gaze away, sinking his lips, his tongue, his teeth into my neck, chest, shoulders, anywhere they could reach. Then we devoured each other as we never had before. Like we were different people, succumbing to a force greater than our own.

I watched as he drifted off to sleep and I couldn’t help but wonder if I wasn’t the only one who had changed.

When I woke up the next morning, both Chance and Thor were gone.

There was a pot of coffee in the kitchen with a note in front of it.

Hey, lover, let Thor out to do his business. Would have made breakfast, but I figured it would be cold by the time you got up. I covered the window up with plastic, fix it as soon as I can. Pick you up from the book signing tonight?

Love,

Chance

I had no hopes that Thor would be in the yard, but I checked anyway, and I was right, unfortunately. I drank my coffee and waited for the wrath of my cousin.

When my phone didn’t ring, I did a quick workout, checked the scrying mirror for any messages, showered, and dressed in black leggings, gray boots, a tee shirt, and an oversized tunic sweater that wrapped around the waist with pockets in the front. I slipped my phone inside a pocket, an athame in my boot, and an infinity scarf around my neck. I grabbed a wool cap since it was supposed to be chillier today and headed out the door to the Geraghty House.

I crunched through the leaves, the wind circling around me, the sun beaming down, and made my way to the back door of the house that led to the kitchen.

The house was a stunning painted lady, built by my great-grandfather, that looked like a wedding cake glazed with butter-cream frosting and highlighted by purple latticework and red and teal piping, all wrapped up in a wrought-iron fence.

There were thirteen rooms total, three floors, and three guest suites. The back of the house, kitty-corner to my cottage, was the innkeepers’ quarters, partitioned off from the common areas and the guest rooms.

As soon as I entered the kitchen, I knew Lolly hadn’t had a drop of liquor in her yet.

“Good morning, Aunt Lolly.”

She looked at me, her eyes glassy, and said, “Hello. I’m sorry. There are no vacancies.”

There was a frying pan on the old-fashioned stove and she was standing in front of it trying to flip a spatula with an egg. Her short copper hair was wrapped up in a bright yellow bow, blue eyeshadow was lacquered on all the way up to her eyebrows, her lipstick was everywhere but on her lips, and she was wearing what looked to be a toga pinned at the shoulder with a rhinestone broach the size of a Frisbee.

I walked over to the stove, turned the burner off, and liberated the egg from her hand. Upon further inspection, I realized it wasn’t a sheet she had wrapped around her, but a tablecloth with faded sprigs of lavender splashed across it.

“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll put the coffee on,” I said.

Lolly nodded and I escorted her to the apothecary table in the center of the room. I pulled up a high-backed chair and she perched on it, settling her hands in her lap, blinking.

By the time the coffee was brewed, I heard steps on the back stairs that trailed to the kitchen.

I poured Lolly a healthy dose of Baileys and Folgers, set it in front of her, and turned to see Fiona glide through the doorway like a movie star at a premiere.

Aunt Fiona was the middle Geraghty sister, who had broken a lot of hearts in her day and could still turn many a head when she walked down the street. She was Marilyn Monroe, Ann-Margret, and Jessica Rabbit all in one. The woman would have given Venus herself a run for her crown. She was unattached now, as were all the Geraghty Girls. It seemed that for the women in my family, love, no matter how strong in the beginning, was ever fleeting. A fact I tried not to dwell on.

Fiona was wearing a black knit dress that hugged her curves, a gold necklace, a thick belt, and pointy polka-dotted heels. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, tied a frilly apron around her waist, and opened the refrigerator. She reached in and took out a potato-and-sausage breakfast casserole.

“What brings you by this morning, dear?” She peeled the Saran Wrap off the casserole, popped some toast in the toaster, and set the oven to 350 degrees.

“I need to talk to you about a few things.”

I checked Lolly’s coffee. It was nearly finished and from the glint in her eye, I could see that the motor was running, but the tank needed more fuel. I fixed her a second cup of Irish coffee and set it in front of her.

Fiona was drizzling maple syrup on the casserole and since Birdie hadn’t come downstairs yet, I decided to ask Fiona about Thor’s behavior toward Cinnamon.

When I was finished explaining his bizarre behavior, she thought about it for a moment, then waved her hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s natural for animals, especially one as sensitive as Thor, to guard the young. Even in the womb. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

I was inclined to believe her, although there was a small part of me that feared for the safety of Cin’s baby. What if there was something wrong? I knew that my cousin never missed a checkup, but still, the way Thor was acting, it gave me pause for concern.

“Would it help if I had a chat with him?” Fiona asked, catching the worry on my face.

I smiled. “I would appreciate that.”

She couldn’t actually have full conversations with animals, but they sent her messages, images that she would then transcribe into words on paper. It couldn’t hurt, I decided.

Birdie came down the stairs, dressed in wide-legged paisley pants and a loose crocheted sweater. Her signature bangles dangled as she whisked into the kitchen.

She looked up, surprise on her face. “Stacy, you’re here early,” she said in an upbeat voice.

She poured a cup of coffee and joined me and Lolly at the apothecary table. She put her hand on mine then instantly snapped it back.

“Something’s wrong. What is it? It can’t be a mission, because the Council hasn’t contacted me.”

Fiona had just put the casserole in the oven. She was holding a pitcher of orange juice as she turned around.

I looked to all three of them. Lolly’s circuits were popping, so I got right to it.

“It wasn’t the Council who contacted me,” I explained. “It was Danu. She told me that you as the Mage would explain everything and I haven’t had time to look into the matter myself.”

“Well, go on, girl, spill it,” Birdie said.

“She said, ‘tell the Mage that the Leanan Sidhe has escaped. You must find and bind her.
’
”

Fiona dropped the pitcher of orange juice and I jumped. It splattered all over the floor and my boots.

Lolly gasped, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Birdie’s face slowly twisted into an angry grimace. She stood up and pointed to both her sisters. “I was afraid of this when you cut the hair of the harlot.”

Fiona winced. Lolly just looked away.

I grabbed some paper towels to quickly sop up the mess.

Their reactions all threw me for a loop. They seemed spooked by this information. And it took a lot to spook these three. Suddenly my stomach twisted in knots. Who was the Leanan Sidhe?

I dumped the broken glass and soiled paper towels into the garbage can and grabbed a sponge to wipe off my boots. They were suede, so they didn’t come clean, but I managed to lessen the damage.

When I turned back around, Birdie was still steaming, Lolly looked guilty, and Fiona seemed nervous. I swiveled my head back and forth between the three of them. “Afraid of what? What is it?”

They all hunched in a huddle, whispering.

“Stop that right now! You worked long and hard to recruit me to the team, which means I’m in on all discussions. No scheming, plotting, planning, or spellcasting without me. I mean it, Birdie!”

My grandmother popped her head up and something about the look on my face made her acquiesce. “Very well.”

The three sisters broke the huddle and formed a semicircle around the apothecary table.

Birdie was the one to speak. “It seems, granddaughter, that your aunts may have invoked the hundred-year curse.”

I tapped my foot. “Well, that doesn’t sound good.”

Aunt Fiona said, “All Geraghtys pay a deep price when the curse is awakened.”

“It’s nearly impossible to stop,” Birdie said.

“That doesn’t sound any better. What price?” I asked.

“The highest price of all,” Lolly answered. “Loss of our loved ones. Forever.”

“You mean, as in death?” I asked.

Birdie nodded solemnly.

That wasn’t an option I was willing to accept. “So what’s the curse? Who’s the Leanan Sidhe? And what’s the plan?”