Black Curses Brewing, page 5
Ethan Ravenwood pushed his way through the doorway. Lucky had spied Ethan from a distance a few times in town. But Ethan up close and personal drove shock waves through him. The eyes, the hair color, the nose, albeit in a smaller form, belonged to his mother. Why had she never told him of their connection to the Ravenwoods? Why had his father hidden him away from family since the Ravenwoods moved to the area ten years ago?
Ethan froze in the doorway. He closed his eyes, opened them. Lucky settled in his chair again, needing to take a leak, but not wanting to lose the one moment that may define the rest of his life.
Ethan advanced a step, waving Sage away. “You resemble the Kenley I knew as a kid.”
“I knew her by the name of Leigh.” He stuck his index finger toward Ethan. “Need a DNA test.”
The corners of Ethan’s eyes dipped downward, the glint fading to a steely resolve. “Maybe. Later.” He shifted to Rafael and Sage. “Leave now. Kill the ward.”
“What?” Sage said. “Are you sure?”
“I won’t talk without Aspen,” Lucky reiterated, not sure why he felt such a compulsion for her to bear witness to his story.
“Hell to the no!” Aspen shouted from down the hall.
“Please, Aspen,” Sage cajoled. “Ethan needs your magic ’case things go sideways.”
Clomping boots advanced toward the door. “Fine, what-the-fuck-ever. I can drown his ass if—”
The loud booming clunk of a door slamming cut off her last words. Wind gusted through the hallway outside his room, and more doors slammed shut or banged against walls. With a flick of her hand, Sage reinstated the bindings tying him to the chair. Everyone hurried into the central room, leaving him alone. Shouting and scuffling ensued. Bound to the chair, Lucky fought the wards in the room. At least the wards worked on any witch or warlock, preventing them from using it against him. Still made him a sitting duck.
Shouting and magic approached his doorway, and the ruckus elevated. Water funnels drenched everything outside the room. Stars detonated and drifted from the ceiling, landing on the fireproof cement floor. Air whooshed and dispersed the water funnels and exploding fireballs. Ivy crept toward the door from outside, shrinking back as they touched the wards, and continued their journey away from the room. A rivulet of brown mud snaked from beneath the baseboards near the door in his room, powerful magic undeterred by the wards. A second and third mud snake approached him. He was powerless to stop them. The scuffle shifted farther away, and no one approached his cell again.
A half dozen brown, headless mud snakes slithered up his chair legs, roving up the back chair frame. Surrounding him. He moved his legs as far from the metal chair legs as his bindings allowed, which wasn’t much. Damn witches!
Plant stems sprouted from the mud streams, expanding until they grew the size of his pinky, touching him, exploring. Not harming. Yet.
The green shoots grew tiny, hairy fibers that morphed into leaves. The vines crawled over his arms and down his torso, binding his legs to the chair.
“Hello!” he shouted. “A little help in here!” For all he knew, the magic intended to strengthen his shackles while the Wildes took care of their other problems.
Aspen ducked her head into the room, her hair flying in all directions, damp from her water magic. She cupped a hand over her mouth. “Did you do that?”
“Do I look like I can do that? Isn’t there a ward on the room?” Anger took a spin at Lucky’s voice. “And why is that your first question?”
With a casual gesture, Aspen brushed her fingers through her tousled hair before fully entering the room. A seagull flew over her head and crapped on the floor. He had to jerk his foot to the side to avoid the splat. The bird managed to perch on the slim doorframe to the bathroom. “Not anymore. Your pal decimated them. We’re trying to determine what happened.”
“Should you be revealing that? Aren’t I the bad guy?” Lucky flexed his arms against the vines, but the threads tightened. “And he’s not my pal.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” She scrutinized him. The seagull screeched, echoing Aspen’s words. “Are you in pain? Do you feel magic from the mud and vines?”
“No. Feels like mud and vines.”
Aspen scratched her head, her fingers trailing down to tap her chin.
“Are you gonna just stand there?” His frustration hit level ten.
“What do you want me to do?” The gull made a cackling sound as if it laughed at him. “I’m thinking.”
“The gull’s your familiar?” He groaned low in his throat. “Why a sky rat of all creatures?”
As if she’d explained herself a million times, Aspen huffed impatiently. She ran a finger along one vine and snatched her hand away. “Ow. It bit me. Are they biting you?”
“No. They feel weirdly comforting, like they’re hugging me and don’t want to let go.”
“I don’t know whose magic it is.” She sat on her knees on the floor, far enough away where he couldn’t touch her. “I can’t counter-spell it until I understand the source and makeup of magic.”
“Yeah, didn’t think so.” He nodded his head toward the open door. The chaotic magic died down but hadn’t dissipated. A puddle of water remained outside the door feeding the vines from afar. “What’s going on?”
Aspen bit her bottom lip, paused for a long moment. “I don’t know. Something triggered all our magic to cut loose. That black warlock may have mad skills.”
“So, you think the vines and mud belong to him?” Stems cut into his skin for a millisecond, a tiny sting as if to warn him of something.
“Doubt it. He’s a fire warlock with a water kicker.” She sat back on her delectable rear, drew her bent legs up to her chest, and propped her chin on her right knee. “Did you play me? Is that asswipe working with you?”
Lucky’s mood and face softened, glad that she hadn’t abandoned him. “No. I’m not lying about him.”
“But you’re lying about other things?” She snorted. “Freaking fantastic.”
“It’s not what you think. I withheld information.”
“Well, Luciano, you know what they say about a lie by omission, right?”
“I’ll make things clear to Ethan. Will you let me make it up to you?”
“Nope. You’ve lost those privileges.” A smile teased the corners of her plump, kissable lips.
“Point taken.” His gaze drifted to the puddle where a vine grew from a ball of mud. The creeper slithered toward the mud snakes now attached to his legs and fed them. He shuddered so hard his teeth clacked together. “Tell me about your familiar.”
“Suppose you know about familiars,” Aspen gloated. “You tell me what your familiar is.”
Lucky flinched at a vine inching toward his neck. “Um, can you get help? I don’t know what this thing’s gonna do.”
“Familiar first.”
Lucky groaned. “I don’t have a familiar. I’m not… at least I don’t think I’m a black warlock.”
“Really?” Aspen drawled.
“I swear by all that is holy.” Anguish accompanied his words. “I don’t know what I am.” He hung his head, and the vine glided up his left cheek. “Please, Aspen.”
She leaped up and tapped a vine, withdrew. “Crap on a toasty cracker.” Ducking her head out the door, she called for Sage. “We’ve got a problem, Houston. Get Ethan too.”
A bedraggled, wet and wind-wild Sage entered the room, Rafael and Ethan on her heels. True wingmen. Warlocks who loved their witch. Yet he understood Ethan wasn’t Sage’s warlock. A story existed there. Maybe he’d hear it one day. Someone called to Rafael, and he left Sage in Ethan’s guard.
“Holy mother of the goddess.” Sage reached toward a vine on Lucky’s arm, and Aspen knocked her hand away. Fire had singed Sage’s T-shirt leaving black holes exposing the honeyed skin of her flat abs. Lucky licked his lips. It’d been too long since he’d had a woman, and meeting Aspen had stirred up his desire… and desperation.
“Don’t touch them,” Aspen warned.
Sage clasped her hands together. “Did that black warlock do this too?” She spun on Ethan. “Who is Lucky to you?”
“From what he says, and the resemblance is there, he’s Kenley Ravenwood’s son, aka Leigh Lorenzo’s son. I didn’t know her as Leigh. Kenley was my father’s youngest sibling.”
“Gee, thanks for the history lesson, cous,” Lucky shot out. “Do you all think you can get me out of this alive? Then we can have a kumbaya sesh.”
“It’s earth magic,” Sage mused.
“What magic do you practice, Lucky?” Ethan asked.
“I don’t.” So many years hiding his magic potential ended that day. He heaved out an epic release of the tension he’d carried on his shoulders like an eight-hundred-pound whale.
“Well, guess what? He said he’s not a black warlock.” Aspen sneered, her lip curling with contempt.
“Hate to burst your bubble, but you are.” Rafael entered the room, wringing the water out of his jacket. “Everything’s under control. We’ve triple-warded our other guest. His magic’s cut off, so this scene doesn’t jive if you think it’s him.”
“Did you ward the two exterior doors?” Aspen asked.
“Yep. No magic’s entering and none’s coming from him.”
“Magic’s seeping to him and Lucky.” Sage finger-combed the wet snarls in her hair. “We had problems setting a ward.”
“By the way, his name’s Pierre Charlemagne,” Ethan added. “He’s one of Andre’s bastard sons.”
“What?” Sage and Rafael exploded together, rounding on Ethan.
Ethan gave them his palms to forestall their rants. Lucky relaxed beneath the vines, enjoying the show, trying to prevent his heart from shearing his ribs and blasting through his chest. More than his anxiety triggered his racing heart. The name “Andre Charlemagne” held so many connotations in his emotions. So much he’d read about the man in his mother’s writings.
“Table it,” Aspen ground out. “Can we kill this magic attacking Lucky or not?”
“What are you thinking?” Sage asked.
“Snag Eden and the other earth witches,” Rafael interrupted, adopting his he-man stance behind and so close to Sage they were almost one.
Aspen opened her fanny pack still latched around her hips, none the worse for wear. She slipped out a multi-purpose pocket knife and opened the longest blade. The steel glistened in the overhead light, the blade sharp and clean.
“Wait, you need a protective ward,” Sage admonished. She mumbled words and waggled her fingers in Aspen’s direction.
“You think it’ll go sideways?” Rafael asked.
“One way to find out.” Ethan scrutinized Lucky’s face as if imprinting his features on his brain. As if he still didn’t trust if Leigh—Kenley—was his mother.
“Are you insane?” Lucky said. “What if it covers my face and smothers me?”
“Cocoon!” Aspen shouted, bright gold flecks in the green depths of her eyes. “That’s what this is. It’s cocooning you to protect you, not harm you. Oh my goddess.” She closed the blade on the knife. “Sage, whose earth magic does it feel like to you? I have a hunch, but you’re better at ID’ing magic.”
Sage stepped toward Lucky, avoiding the vines and mud snakes. She spoke words of a spell Lucky couldn’t understand. Latin maybe?
Eyes rounding in horror, Sage gasped. “The magic feels like Andre’s earth magic from when he attacked Willow at her apartment.”
“Exactly,” Aspen said. “He was jailed in this room at one point. His magic is lingering. A delayed spell, maybe?”
Ethan gripped Sage’s shoulders and eased her away from Lucky. “I couldn’t identify it at first, but you’re right. I should’ve known since I’d spent years in his presence.”
“Did Andre escape?” Air turned into razor blades in Aspen’s lungs, each breath a slice of terror. “He was always warded in the basement. How could his magic linger?”
Rafael’s fingers flew on his phone. “I haven’t heard from anyone upstairs since we came down here. Leah’s not answering, nor is Marina. Our best earth witches should be able to solve the puzzle. Where the hell are they?”
Had Lucky doomed everyone by coming onto the Wilde covenstead? Had he doomed his salvation as well?
Chapter 6
Aspen’s nose twitched as she sniffed the room. The vines had little to no scent. Another vine sprouted from the mud rivers and climbed Lucky’s right leg. It grew as thick as Aspen’s thumb and snaked up his torso until it found purchase around his neck. Aspen longed to cut the vines off his too calm body. Maybe his calm kept the plants chill since they now traversed over seventy-five percent of him. Testing the unknown might gamble with a death sentence.
Remorse filled her, strong and silent, throbbing in her head, beating against her rib cage. Had she caused this magic to assault him? If that warlock goon hadn’t jumped her, or she hadn’t left the grounds, none of this would’ve happened. A niggling doubt surfaced as she recalled the attack. The goon said something about two birds. What did the neanderthal mean? Was he targeting both of them? Her head and heart ached too much to tackle the line of thought.
Ethan, Sage, and Rafael left to survey the covenstead. Sage told her not to leave Lucky alone.
“I’m sorry,” Aspen said.
His eyes softened. “Whatever.” The vines tightened over his taut shoulders. “Not your fault. You’re not an earth witch.”
She jerked up her head. “How do you know? Earth witches can be healers and mix potions.”
“Most earth witches grow their own herbs, not buy them. You already displayed your witch-water.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” She gnawed on her bottom lip and propped her shoulder against the wall. “Are you thirsty? I can scrounge up a straw.”
“Nah. I already need to take a leak. Don’t want to make it worse.”
“Oh, Lucky. This is horrible.” She reached to touch his cheek, froze. “What can I do?”
“Touch my face.” A deeper shade of crimson painted his cheeks.
“I’m afraid. What if the vines smother you?”
“I’ve a hunch they’re not meant to kill or hurt me.” He lifted two free fingers a skosh and stroked the deep green leaves. The leaves quivered and feathered his hand in a soothing way.
“What if they attack me?” Aspen was dying to touch him. Dying to see how the vines reacted. Something between them connected earlier, and she needed to explore it. The way she’d wanted to explore it in high school when he’d wanted nothing to do with witches. Instead, he hung with the science geek squad and she with her witch clique, which included her three cousins. A force no one dared traverse.
Before a second thought, she slid her index finger toward his face. A vine unfurled from his left arm and snapped around her wrist. “Oww. Son of a vine bitch!” The stem tightened and dug into her wrist. “Let me go. I’ll back away.” In response, the vine broke skin. “Please. Stop. I’ll leave you alone.” The vine unfurled where it settled in a loose clasp around Lucky’s arm, after stealing several drops of her blood. It exhaled a little puff of air, its leaves flapping as if to scold her.
Aspen wiped the residual blood on her T-shirt beneath her leather moto-jacket and retreated to the wall, despite an inclination to run far and fast. But she refused to leave Lucky alone in a mess of her creation.
“I’m sorry. It’s not me, I swear. I’d never do this to you.”
“Why not?” She hiccupped down a sob, more from frustration and guilt than pain. “You don’t know me.”
His composure crackled across his face for a split second. “I know you’re a good, compassionate person.”
“I’m a healer. Compassion is in my nature.” She sniffed disdainfully. “I’m still pissed at you.” High school memories flooded her mind. All the times she’d spied him, drooled over his cute surfer looks, and he shunned her. Never acknowledged her as they passed in the hallways or sat in the same classes.
“You’ve every right.”
“Will you explain yourself?” She wiped more blood off on her shirt. She scrounged in her fanny pack for an alcohol wipe. A light film of perspiration dotted her forehead and heat escalated over her body. Fog glazed her eyes, and the two alcohol wipes slipped from her hand before her knees crumpled and dumped her on the cement. The pain of hitting the floor didn’t make a dent in the strange lethargy overcoming her. “I think the vine poisoned me. I’m just gonna lie here for a sec.” She slid to her side against the wall, fighting an overwhelming sleepiness. “Need Sage.” As her throat thickened, her voice was but a whisper. Not enough to worry it might close, but enough to notice.
“Aspen?” A voice, faint as a desert wind, rustled the leaves on Lucky. “Sage!” Lucky yelled, struggling against the relentless creepers holding him to the chair. “Aspen needs help.”
Willow, Aspen’s younger sister, limped into the room and crouched next to Aspen. “What did you do to her?”
“She tried to touch me. The vine attacked. Punctured her wrist.”
“Wills, snag a counter-spell potion,” Aspen croaked. “Red topper, labeled, in fridge. Grab a few. Pain gummies in my secret stash.”
“I don’t want to leave you. Not like this. Not with him.” Willow stretched Aspen out on her back, tore off her hoodie and bunched it beneath Aspen’s head. The hoodie smelled of both Willow and Evan, a soothing scent of spices and vanilla.
“Go. Before it gets worse.” Pain lanced her stomach, and she choked down bile, preventing her lunch from staging a comeback. “Lucky, how lucky are you. Far as I see, you’re a nightmare that just keeps on giving. The goddess giveth, and the goddess taketh away. Is it a full moon tonight? Moon Goddess, don’t forsake me.” She was babbling nonsense, random thoughts popping into her head. “You were but a dream in high school.”
“Aspen?” Lucky said, his mouth muffled.
