Black Curses Brewing, page 2
“Sure,” Aspen said, and they parted in the hallway. She waited for Eden’s footsteps to drift up the stairs before she bolted toward the kitchen. She raised a thin water curtain to hide behind and dashed through the kitchen to the side door before any kitchen staff caught a sniff of her. They might find a few puddles on the floor in her wake.
Aspen scurried into the perimeter woods where she’d stashed her motorcycle in an old garden shed four days ago, along with her helmet and empty saddlebags, ready and waiting for just this moment.
She rolled the bike through uneven terrain and onto an ill-used path cutting through the woods. Rocks scattered the path, and weeds and ruts made it uneven. Took a moment for tiny beads of sweat to pop on her neck, leaving her panting like a marathon runner. But her excitement to leave the grounds cut through any pain or exhaustion. The idea of zooming down the road on her bike, wind cutting around her, fueled her needs. She stuck her earbuds in her ears and cranked up her favorite alternative rock music.
By the time she reached the old emergency gate at the ill-used side of the property, she paused for a breather. She gathered her thoughts to slice through the wards protecting the property without killing herself or alerting the entire coven. A moment to remember the black magic spell she’d memorized.
The protective ward on the perimeter fence and gate crackled against her. As she stepped closer to the gate, a solid weight pushed on her lungs and drove the air out of her.
Chapter 2
Gasping, Aspen sucked in deep breaths through murky air, fighting the ward’s push against her lungs. Magic enveloped her and her hands shook. Not enough to impede her escape, but holy hell.
She’d worked on her escape spell and tested it at least a half dozen times. First three times, she’d caused a blip on the ley lines and it alerted Marina. Rafael and Sage swallowed Marina’s explanation that the lines blip all the time without affecting the wards. Marina had no clue Aspen caused it. The idea and chance to escape house arrest were too enticing. No one on the covenstead ever went to the old gardening shed, not with all the other defined paths and hiking trails. Marina never checked the old, rusty gate for the blip.
Had Marina beefed up her wards? The magic shimmered over her, and she voiced a counter-spell, regaining her composure. A few moments later, the pressure of the ward lessened. Grinning, she slipped on her helmet, braces, and gloves for her getaway and for protection if her spells went assbackwards. Incanting another counter-spell to pause the protective wards, she skimmed her fingers over the gate railings to impart her magic. She dribbled a counter-spell potion on the lock, and the lock clicked, slid open, and dangled in place. She recited the final spell to kill the ward, which guaranteed a microscopic blip on the ley line. With Marina gone, the sole witch tied to the lines, no one else would feel it. Sage would go full-on medieval if she discovered Aspen was brewing black curses and using them to break their wards. Aspen craved a way to contribute to the impending war with the black warlocks, and learning to defeat them by potions, charms, and curses dumped her front and center in the game. No one else in the coven possessed her unique abilities to brew curses and practice alchemy.
“So mote it be,” she whispered. The sizzling magic surrounding her receded. “Yeah, baby!” She mentally high-fived herself. After steering her bike through the gate, she locked it behind her. To re-stitch the break she made, she invoked a warding spell and walked along the fence line for ten feet in each direction to spread her spell outward.
Halfway to the main road from the old fire road, she hit the ignition on her bike and jetted off the property. Wind whistled around her, a rush she’d missed. The thrum of the motorcycle between her legs was almost as good as sex. Sage once said it was the only action Aspen got. She’d take it! No relationship repercussions on a bike.
Aspen whooped and hollered. The power and speed trampled all her guilt and inhibitions. Exhilaration filled her internal tank after a boring month-long lockdown. But the month in her lab brewing potions and learning curses was a month she’d never regret. No one knew of her research, a big reason she didn’t want Brianne or anyone else shadowing her in town.
The farther she sped down the twisty road through the hills to the coastal town of Santa Cruz, the more the sun peeked through the clearing fog. She reveled in the sun on her despite her motorcycle garb covering her from head to toe. By the time she reached town limits, joy and energy had refueled her body, mind, and soul. The rush of adrenaline thumped in her ears.
She parked at the side of the Sand Dollar Pharmacy near downtown, which contained an apothecary and herb shop. The place catered to witches, but the owner didn’t promote it to the general public. Although witches didn’t have to hide from the world, non-magicals were paranoid of them. Dr. Lorenzo, the shop owner, always seemed discreet and friendly to witches. His shop carried unusual witch paraphernalia that other places didn’t, including herbs Aspen couldn’t order online. And a witch sometimes had a hankering to sniff and touch the goods.
As she stowed her protective gear, she opened her senses to gauge magic in the air, on the ground, anywhere in her proximity. A fishy, briny tinge accompanied the breeze, the seaside town’s natural elements. Not a skosh of magic tingled her senses. The ocean beckoned her witch-water element, but instead of the compulsion to the boardwalk and wharf, business swayed her. The ocean wasn’t going anywhere. Plus, she didn’t want to risk running into Brianne and Marina, knowing they’d headed straight to the boardwalk for their favorite amusement park foods and Brianne’s dip in the ocean.
The bell above the door tinkled, announcing her arrival. The attention the tinkle caused squirmed through Aspen. Not that she needed to hide from people, she didn’t want word to reach Sage. A few people shopped the shelves of over-the-counter meds, snacks, and touristy gifts. Aspen headed straight to the open door to the left, into the herb room.
“Hey, Miss Aspen. Long time no see,” Dr. Lorenzo called to her from behind the pharmacy counter where he was helping another customer. “Let me know if you need help.”
“Hiya, Doc. Will do.” The moment she slipped into the herb shop, myriad scents filled her senses, energized her like nothing else in the world except the ocean. In her element, she wandered the room, touching the pouches, jars, and packaged items, checked out new and exclusive stock behind the glass counter.
As she snagged a canvas shopping tote, magic fringed her aura and teased her witch-water. Water spritzed from her fingers, and she flung off the drops in a random pattern, not wanting to leave puddles in the shop. Bad customer. The magic strengthened, and she backed against a far wall behind a rack of local herbs. Witch-fire. More than witch magic, or more than one witch. A black warlock? Subtle magic, but dynamic, like a new bonded warlock learning his bonding witch’s powers. Yet, there wasn’t another customer in the alcove. She dropped the tote on the floor to free her hands and cleared her mind to induce her defensive witch-water.
Two colorful surfboards bracketed a sailor’s net dotted with all variety of shells on the far shiplap wall in harmony with the coastal town. A recent addition since she’d shopped there last. The door opened behind the counter, and an aura blast slammed her, frazzling her nerves.
He walked through, and the door shut behind him. Aspen’s heart skipped a couple of beats. Goddess, he was the most beautiful man. As handsome as Rafael and the Ravenwood brothers, all gods among men, turning heads wherever they went. Why hadn’t she noticed his good looks when she’d spied him last month for the first time since high school graduation? He possessed an aura that leant him an ethereal light, enhancing every feature of his chiseled face. About six feet tall, he stood with a firm, lanky build in a red T-shirt and board shorts covered by a black shop apron. The store logo, a sand dollar in sea grass, emblazoned the front of the apron. Lucky Lorenzo had changed so much since high school. Once a boy, now all sculpted, gorgeous, and confident man. She licked her lips, smoothed her hands down her leather jacket.
Despite Sage’s forced lockdown, Aspen found life good, working in her lab, running her webstore, living on the covenstead. But the minute she spied Lucky, the second time since high school graduation, she had an odd feeling the gates sprang open to her real life. The sensation consumed her, and she almost stopped breathing. She’d never experienced this reaction to Lucky in high school. She’d liked and admired him from afar, but he steered clear of the witches. They ran in way different cliques.
“Can I help you?” He toted a self-possessed air about him, but as he addressed her, it faltered. His face remained passive, no smile, no grimace, just blank. Did he not recognize her? Had she changed so much since high school?
Aspen startled from his reaction and the magic drifting off him. She thought she knew of all the witches in Santa Cruz and their warlocks. Who had bonded him? Where had the witch hidden him? Or was there a new witch in town? She’d seen him a month ago from a distance in the pharmacy and sensed magic wafting off him like an unbonded warlock. But today, no way. A witch had bonded him since. Or was he a black warlock? In high school, she’d sensed no magic about him. But then, she didn’t excel at sensing warlocks by their auras like Sage.
“Hey,” she greeted. “Loading up on supplies.” She acted nonchalant, let the chips fall as they fell. “Do you work here?” Duh, mental forehead smack. She pointed to the surfboards. “You surf?”
“My dad’s the owner. Yeah, I’m easing back into surfing.”
“Oh. I’ve been shopping here for years. Never seen you.”
A healthy coastal tan glowed on his clean-shaven face and strong jawline. His wavy, highlighted brown hair fell to the top of his stiff shoulders. “Guess you can’t know everyone in the world, right?” He turned away from her.
“Guess not.” His animosity caused Aspen’s defensive witch-water to rise. Guess he didn’t remember her. “I’ll finish my shopping and hit it.” Before she reached for her shopping tote where it’d fallen, he’d skirted the counter, picked up the tote, and handed it to her. Water spritzed off their skin where they touched, and he jerked his hand away.
“Sorry.” Was he a black warlock who held his own magic and had hidden it? Maybe that’s why he appeared in the shop at the same time they’d captured the leader of the Black Tide. Rafael even had a sparse, non-illuminating dossier on him.
He returned to stand behind the counter, putting maximum distance between them in the cramped room. “Let me know if you need help,” he said in a grumpy grumble.
Aspen darted down the aisles of the store and stuffed her bag, checking her list on her phone to ensure she snagged everything. Who knew when she’d escape the covenstead again? If she got caught, Sage would plunk a chain and lock on her door. The last items on the list required him to fill from cannisters behind the counter. Swallowing hard, she approached the counter where he sat reading an old leather-bound book. Her curiosity perked up. Old research books were her thing, especially ones on certain topics, like brewing potions and herbal remedies. He stood and hid the book on the floor as if she’d caught him holding stolen goods.
Two browsing women entered the room. Non-witches. Pagan wannabes. Aspen couldn’t recite the items on the list without giving herself away and showed him her screen. “I need the last four items on the list in the quantity noted.” Her spine went rigid as she waited for the expected horror or backlash.
Concentrating and face bland, he measured the herbs into plastic zip bags, labeled, and handed them to her. “Anything else?” he asked.
“What were you reading?” She couldn’t resist the press of her curiosity.
He reddened. “Nothing. An old book from the attic.”
Aspen sensed she’d overstepped. She paid for her items and took the sack he handed her.
“Thanks for your business. Come again.” A callous afterthought.
“Sure. See ya.” An uneasy feeling bogged her down as she sidled out of the store, unable to pinpoint if his brusque nature or the magic he exuded caused her the willies. More magic than an unbonded warlock’s powerful aura.
The moment she finished securing her items in her saddlebags, magic slammed her, powerful and intense. A ring of blue fire encapsulated her and her bike, securing her in an inescapable fiery cocoon. She spun around but didn’t see anyone along the side alley where she’d parked. When she raised her witch-water and sprayed the ring, the fire sputtered and reignited. Despite invoking a counter-spell to kill the fire magic, the fire ring thickened and dried her magic.
Black magic.
Goosebumps erupted on her skin, each raising a tremor of impending disaster. Sage had locked down the covenstead because of black magic and black warlocks. Dammit all to Hades in a freaking handbasket. Because of Lucky preoccupying her and her excitement at gathering fresh supplies, she’d forgotten to scope her surroundings for magic. Keep your shit together, stupid witch.
Rio, her seagull familiar, dove up her neck from her chest and launched off her shoulder, trailing threads of water magic in its webbed feet. The familiar escaped the ring of fire before the ring encompassed her completely. The water threads were no match against the black warlock.
“Who’s there? What do you want?” Her voice quavered.
A man stepped from behind the rear of the pharmacy. Blond highlighted the tips of his spikey black hair, framing a too-dark tanned face. If he didn’t curb his tanning, he’d sport leather skin in another ten years. Although short and stocky, Aspen was no physical match to fight him.
“No need to trade names. I want a piece of the Wilde pie. Two birds. One pie today.” Grinning, he scrubbed his hands together. How did he know her identity? Did the Wildes exude a unique scent or aura? She almost dipped her head to sniff her pits. “I can knock you out and carry you, or you can come willingly. Your choice.” His grin widened. “You’re the score of the year so far. No one’s caught hide nor hair of a Wilde witch for over a month.”
Why’d she ever decide to defy Sage? Sage was the Wilde High Priestess, leader of the Wilde coven and the entire western region for a reason. Her sister had called it. The Wildes sat at the top of the Black Tide’s hit list. No doubt the dude was a charter member of Andre Charlemagne’s stupid-ass group of fierce black warlocks.
“I don’t have a beef with you. Take a hike, and I’ll pretend I never laid eyes on you. Never heard you threaten me.” As a water witch, she used witchcraft to power water to do her bidding, and she used magic-infused water to create potent potions and magical charms. But her dabbling in black magic hadn’t reached prime time.
Wait, what? The black magic potion she used to open the lock might work to halt his magic enough to escape on her bike. She’d have to report the incident to Sage, so she didn’t need the potion to sneak through the gate. And what did he mean by two birds? She glanced around. Not another soul near the pharmacy. Rio hid in a cypress tree near the warlock, and Aspen felt the familiar’s pluck on her witch-water, ready to do her bidding or fly to her aid. The warlock hadn’t yet added a ward to his fire ring, and she still had use of her magic.
The man grinned and advanced a step. “Is the fire addling your brain, Aspen Wilde? Your family stole from us. We want him back.”
“Us? We?” Aspen gestured around her, then gripped her fanny pack. “Where are your friends?”
“I think you know what I mean.” As he moved a few steps closer to her, his grin never faltered.
The fire ring expanded, and sweat formed beneath her breasts. She wanted to mist her broiling face but couldn’t afford to use magic on herself. Magic use came with a price, and she must conserve her funds to spend on him when the door opened. She flicked a glimpse at Rio, and their bond vibrated in her chest.
Aspen eased open the rear zipper pocket on her fanny pack. “So, you think retrieving him will help you? Don’t ya think controlling the Black Tide without him gives you more street cred and power?” She fisted the potion bottle. “Or do you need him to call the shots because you little minions haven’t found a clue on how to operate?”
His wide grin slowly faded away, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. She’d hit a nerve. Which meant the Black Tide needed Andre. A lightbulb flicked on in her brain. Were they bound to Andre? Holy freaking hell on earth. Their magic was less potent with Andre’s magic tied in knots. The crazy idea stuttered her thoughts.
“Or do you need his magic?” She uncorked the vial, clenching the cork in her fist.
He lunged toward her, stopping short of the fire ring. Mark hit, and boy had she grabbed the brass ring of brass rings.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Keep your questions and theories to yourself, you dumb witch.”
Despite the fire ring’s heat, Aspen shivered. How had they not thought of this conundrum? Whether Andre’s black warlocks, if bonded to him, would need his magic for full strength. Their allies, the Ravenwoods, had revealed nothing about it. But Andre practiced earth and water. This dude used fire, so fire was his own magic. Not all panned out in her theory.
“Just so you know, your fire is keeping you from me as much as it’s holding me hostage,” she quipped. “A punishable offense by human laws, not only the witchworld.”
Before she blinked, the fire ring splintered. Blue sparks showered the air, and the warlock lunged for her. Water spouted off her, drenching them both. A wave tried to separate them, but his arms latched around her waist from behind. She inched her hand holding the vial from his locked arms. Using good old-fashioned self-defense, she back-kicked his shin, and he yelped, but didn’t release his hold. Dancing blue flames flickered and spit off him.
Rio joined the fray and wrapped the warlock in water, dampening his fire before it scorched Aspen. She thrust wave after wave of water, but it did nothing against his black magic holding her magic at bay. Countering with his own waves of water, he proved her point that he may be bonded to Andre and using Andre’s water magic. So much water, she sputtered.
“You’re shit out of luck, girl,” he spat in her wet face. “Give it up now, and I’ll go easy on you.”
