My bestie had loved Gran nearly as much as I had. Cass didn’t have any family beyond Gran and me—now just me. Demon imps weren’t usually nurturing; parents tended to dump their children to fend for themselves as soon as they could. Cass had had a rough and lonely life before meeting me at the academy.
I packed my toothbrush just in case this day trip turned into a night trip, then headed into the kitchen. Grabbing a bundle of sage and a pack of matches off the counter, I went outside.
Smoke signals were a witch’s way of texting, for those of us who could manipulate the smoke. Witches despised technology; they did everything through the earth. It made sense that this Willemena woman would only communicate this way.
Sitting cross-legged on the hard ground, I took in a few deep breaths. The sun was shining and a cool breeze whipped through the trees. It was a beautiful morning.
“Willemena Worst. Willemena Worst. Willemena Worst.” After saying the name three times, I lit the match, allowing it to set fire to the dry sage bundle. Her real name was probably something different. Witches changed their names all the time in order to retain their power. Once you had a witch’s real name, you could do all kinds of spells on them. Black is our family’s real last name, but I have no idea if Gran’s real first name was actually Belinda at birth.
The sage began to smoke heavily. Thick, gray, ashy plumes wafted up to the sky, and I relished in this small bit of magic I was capable of achieving.
My arm started to tingle and I grew excited to receive such a quick response from the witch.
‘Who the fuck is this?’ crawled across my right forearm in black, then quickly disappeared.
Whoa. Cantankerous was right.
I ran my hands through the smoke, then traced words along my arm. ‘Evie Black. My Gran, Belinda, is dead.’
‘What was her favorite tea?’
Her reply arrived incredibly fast. Communication via smoke was usually slow, but not for this witch. She must be a real powerhouse to be able to bend the smoke to her will so rapidly. She also clearly didn’t trust that I was in fact Evie Black, and was now testing my knowledge of Gran.
I chuckled. ‘Tea is for pussies. She liked black coffee.’
Gran thought people who drank tea were weak. It was a running joke. I preferred rooibos myself, but rarely drank it around Gran just so I wouldn’t catch crap about it.
There was an actual pause on Willemena’s end, before letters as dark as night again tore across the inner flesh of my forearm.
‘I’m sorry to hear about Belinda. It’s time you saw me. I have answers.‘
The message was followed by an address, which I committed to memory.
‘See you soon.’ I sent back, then ground the sage bundle into the earth to cease its burning.
Just in time. The sound of tires crunching on gravel directed my attention to Brock’s brand new heavy-duty truck, as it pulled into the driveway. Sabine was at the wheel, not my baby daddy.
Huh.
The pack doctor exited the truck carrying a bag of crimson blood, presumably Brock’s.
“Heading out of town, I hear?” Sabine called, staring at my belly with a concerned gaze.
“Yep.”
She chewed her lip and handed me the truck keys. “Brock doesn’t want you driving a long way in that old Jeep. He’d like you to take his truck.”
That man was controlling even when he wasn’t around! God help me.
“There’s nothing wrong with my ‘old’ Jeep,” I told her as she motioned for me to give her my arm. I sat in Gran’s rocking chair to let her hook up the blood transfusion.
She cast a suspicious glance at the sage bundle, but ultimately ignored it. “We need to do the viability scan tomorrow to make sure the baby looks good, that it will come to term.”
Viability scan? That term was fucking scary. Was she saying that right now my pregnancy wasn’t viable? No matter what I’d thought before, the reality was that I’d been on the fence about being pregnant up until that very moment. Hearing that my baby might not… wow. It was like a swift punch to the gut. Now I wanted this baby so badly it hurt.
“Why? Is everything okay?” I tried to act nonchalant. Rule #1 of bounty hunting: never look scared, even when you are. Yet, my voice shook a little as the blood began to drip into my arm and I thought about losing the baby, and what that would do to Brock and me.
Sabine waved a hand. “I’m not worried. You’re young and healthy, and Brock’s blood transfusions have made all of your labs look normal. But we just want to hear that little heartbeat and make sure all is well.”
I nodded. Had Brock told her I was also a kitsune? Maybe not yet. Now I was nervous. That little heartbeat had better thump or I’d be crushed.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow for the scan,” I promised. “This is only a day trip.”
She nodded, and pointed to the truck keys in my hand. “So can I tell him you’re taking the truck?”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “Is there a tracking device on it?”
She grinned. “Probably.”
I hated that Gran’s letter implicated Brock. I’d just been starting to trust him. Still, Gran mentioned his father, not him, and it sounded like his dead brother was the real asshole. So, maybe he was okay. He felt okay. Either way, I was having a baby with him.
“Fine. I’ll take the truck,” I replied.
Pulling out the needle, Sabine wrapped gauze around my inner elbow. With nothing more than a nod, she turned, and started making her way up the hill back to the mansion.
I could still see her retreating form when I received a text.
Brock: Don’t forget to pack your prenatal vitamins. And please eat some breakfast before you leave.
‘Don’t ever let me have sex with a werewolf again,’ I growled at Cass.
The fucker just laughed and laughed, but at least he didn’t tell me I told you so. A missed opportunity.
Of course Cass knew that no matter what I said now, this particular wolf was fine enough to motivate me to bend my no-werewolves rule again.
18 Witchy Witchy
Cass sat in the passenger seat of Brock’s truck, where he was doing his best to pull off a booster seat in style. If anyone had a chance at it, my bestie did with his bright pink fur, bling, and don’t-care attitude.
“You’re wearing your favorite shorts,” I noticed. “You only bring out your rainbow-sequined booty shorts when you want to impress someone.”
He shrugged. “We’re going someplace new. I have no idea what kind of saucy minxes I might meet. I dressed to impress.” He smoothed the fur along his arms and legs, and smiled his signature mack-daddy smile—the one all the fae chicks fell for... somehow.
I chuckled, threw the car into gear, and headed out on our three-hour journey.
“What do you think about this gate to the underworld?” I asked my partner, and our new apprentice. Molly was in the back seat, excited to be out on her first “mission.”
“Well, there’s definitely an underworld,” Cass answered. “I’ve never heard of a gate though. I never thought to ask how my ancestors ended up here. But demon imps are from the underworld.”
“Oh my gosh,” Molly whispered like she was having an orgasm in the back seat. “You’re from the underworld?”
‘Maybe we were wrong about taking her on as an apprentice,’ Cass sent to me. ‘She’s a bit over the top.’
‘So are you,’ I retorted.
‘Yeah, but I do over-the-top with a cool all my own.’
There’s no way I could deny that. There was no one else like Cass. I didn’t think the planet could handle another one.
“Cass…?” Molly prodded.
“My kind is from the underworld, but I’m not. I was born in Philly.”
Molly’s purple head bobbed up and down so excitedly, that it was making me dizzy as I looked at her through the rearview mirror. “But demon imps are from there? What other things are down there?”
Neither Cass nor I jumped to answer that particular question. Ever since the supernaturals invaded the human world, they started to procreate here. Now supes were a normal part of society. No one even remembered how supernaturals got here, but rumor was that there were many worlds. Still, demons, even sweet imps like Cass, were from the underworld.
Molly scooted forward in her seat again, placing her head directly between the two of us. “Well…?” Her eyes sparkled in anticipation.
“Sit back,” I cautioned. “You need to wear your seatbelt.”
Cass snickered before he thought better of it. We both hated seatbelts, but now that I was prego and coffeeless, I was wearing one.
Molly sat back, but she wasn’t going to let this go, I could tell.
“Tell her,” I urged Cass.
“Fine.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “The underworld houses all kinds of nasty creatures. Anything whose natural way of being doesn’t include an overactive conscience.”
“Like?” Molly prodded. Either she didn’t sense Cass’ reluctance, or she didn’t care.
“Like trolls, goblins, demons, some of the darker fae—not my girls though. All kinds of monsters that don’t even have names because they’re one-of-a-kind, and scary enough to make you shit your pants. Sirens—”
“Sirens?” Molly’s voice went up two octaves. “Like the siren we’re chasing?”
“Yes.” Cass’ answer was short and sweet.
Turning, his eyes focused on Molly. “Shit’s crazier than you think it is. The underworld contains the worst of the worst. The things of nightmares, my sexy kind excluded of course. You don’t want to go messing with anything from that damned plane.”
“Which means we have to find the way to keep it closed—and get anything that escaped from it back in there,” I added.
Cass nodded solemnly, eyes back on the road up ahead. “Yeah, we’ve got to. And we have to get that siren.”
“You said sirens are from the underworld…” Molly reminded, her tone appropriately grave. “Are all sirens from there? Aren’t there some good mermaids?”
“Yeah, sure,” Cass replied. “There are some creatures, like goblins, that only originate from the underworld. But then there are others that are split. The ones with the coal chunks for hearts come from the underworld. Their kinder counterparts come from another place.”
“Whoa.” Molly sounded like a surfer who’d just smoked a joint.
Cass gave Molly an irritated look. “You don’t need to learn it all in one sitting, do you? Give an imp a break.” He rubbed his belly.
Silence settled in the cabin for a few beats. “Why do you think Calista wants to open the gate so badly?” I finally asked. “I mean, what’s it to her?”
Cass pursed his gray lips. “That’s a very good question. I wish like hell we had the answer to it. Because for a siren to turn down the kind of cash I think Brock was suggesting he offered her, she has to have some kind of personal stake in getting that gate open. And it’s never good when a siren gets personal.”