Black Curses Brewing, page 8
“But he’s a Ravenwood by blood,” Ethan replied.
“Yes. Yes. There’s a story there,” Marjorie said as if she already knew. “Keep him there.”
“Too late. We let him go.” Rafael paced the room, his footsteps a soft thud on the rug.
“Find him. I’ll be in touch.” Marjorie clicked off.
Rafael engaged his tracking app. Aspen sprawled in her seat. All she wanted was time-travel to the morning, wishing for an epic do-over.
“He’s at the beach.” His teeth ground together, a silent snapping of frustration. “No, he’s on the Walton Lighthouse jetty. Let’s go.” Ethan and Rafael sprinted from the room, not a moment too soon before Aspen burst into tears.
Sage handed her a wad of tissues, forcing her to end her meltdown. “Let’s photograph the tattoos.”
“In my bedroom. The light’s better this time of day.”
They retreated to Aspen’s bedroom on the second floor and locked the door. Aspen stripped to her bra and panties. The purple and black tattoo had formed into green vines. The tattoo vines growing from the puncture site trailed around her arm to two inches down the back of her shoulder blades. Seeing the tattoo in the mirror sent a tortuous itch trailing the tattoo’s path. She scratched her arm, her nails digging into her skin trying to scrape it off.
“Stop,” Sage demanded. “You’re making it worse.”
The colors brightened, and a purple flower sprouted on the vine at her wrist, like a corsage for a hellish prom she never agreed to attend.
Chapter 9
Legs dangling above the boulders, Lucky sat at the end of the jetty jutting out from the lighthouse on the Santa Cruz Harbor. The end of the world across the blue waters of the Pacific arrested his attention, an unknown calm that promised obscurity, complete opposite of the witchworld. The ocean lapped at the rocks surrounding the lighthouse, swamping the voices in his head. He’d texted his dad and told him he was hanging with friends. Didn’t want him to trip out over his long absence. But he needed solitude. He needed to grapple with his life flipping into an inevitable freak show.
Even though he’d bided his time for a Ravenwood showdown, and sought answers to a million questions, he wasn’t ready to hear the truth. The truth his parents hid from him. They had their reasons, but the time had arrived for his dad to fess up. Reading the bits and pieces of his mother’s secret notebooks led to many unanswered questions. Questions his father may know, and others the Ravenwoods may know. Most of all, questions Andre Charlemagne, the man incarcerated on the Wilde covenstead, could answer.
Lucky’s plan failed in some ways, and in others, he celebrated internally. He now had an in with the Wildes and a path forward to Andre.
“Lucky.”
The loud voice broke over the waves crashing onto shore and killed his solitude. Another notch of frustration punched his emotional belt.
He groaned and glanced over his shoulder. Rafael Reyes and Ethan Ravenwood hung in the long shadows of the lighthouse.
“You asked me to leave. I left.” He inhaled the cleansing, salty air, and his gaze drank in the ocean, imprinting both on his senses. “Are you tracking me?”
Rafael spread his hands, palms up. “We have our ways.”
“We want you to return to the covenstead,” Ethan said. “You agreed to talk to me.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?” Rafael asked. “Far as we know, you brought this negative-ass magic to our covenstead.”
Fury gushed through Lucky, and his spine straightened. He leaped to his feet and confronted the two warlocks. “If I brought the magic, then it’s gone. A big ‘if.’ Why would I attack myself with magic?”
“It’s not gone.” Rafael’s pitch dipped an octave. “It’s latched on to Aspen.”
The evening breeze kicked up and blew his hair around his face. A tic formed in Lucky’s jaw, and he swept his hair back. “Is she okay?” Concern erased his anger, and he dug his fists in his front pockets. “I swear it’s not my magic. I’d never hurt her.”
“Remains to be seen,” Ethan replied. “First, we need your help to contain this before more shit hits the fan. My healer wants to examine anyone in contact with Aspen today.”
“Am I suspect number one?”
“Or two.” Rafael took a step closer. “We’ll treat you as a guest until circumstances prove otherwise.”
Lucky snorted. “Right. I already witnessed firsthand how you treat your guests.”
Ethan held up his hands to forestall further talk. “Let’s go chat.”
Lucky texted his dad again, this time telling him he was spending the night at a friend’s house, and he’d catch his normal shift tomorrow. He’d returned home from Berkeley to help his dad in the shop for the spring and summer, and he had no plans to renege on his duties. “I’m bringing my truck, or rangers will tag it after the parking lot closes.”
“I’ll ride shotgun,” Rafael offered. “No funny business.”
Although the two warlocks were semi-kidnapping him, they hadn’t nicked his phone, and they gave him freedom to drive his truck. But then, that status might change the moment they landed on the covenstead. He stuck his hand under the floorboard beneath the driver’s seat and tapped his handgun.
Once on the road, Ethan leading the way in a black SUV, a dense silence enveloped the cab until Lucky cut through it. “How do you know Aspen hasn’t been in contact with other witches or warlocks over the past week? Anyone could’ve done this to her. Can’t someone trigger or time-release spells?”
“Aspen hasn’t left the compound in a month, and she traveled straight to your shop. You and that other asshole are the only people she’s had direct contact with outside the coven.”
“Are you holding her prisoner, too? She said something about sneaking out.”
“It’s none of your business.”
Lucky blinked back his surprise. He glanced in the rearview mirror. A nondescript white sedan tailed them from the lighthouse parking lot, driver and a passenger in the front seat. Paranoia jiggered the bit of nerves in his gut that hadn’t already tripped off the rails. Were they boxing him in?
“Are those your warlocks behind us?”
Rafael peeked in the passenger side rearview. “Nope. We didn’t bring anyone. Why?”
“They’ve tailed us since the parking lot. I have a bad feeling.” Lucky maintained his speed behind Ethan. “If I veer off, will Ethan trip?”
Rafael called Ethan, relayed the situation, and put him on speakerphone. “Do what you think is right to see if they’re following. Ethan will hold his own.”
Taking the next right. The road led to town and a more congested area. Lucky flicked his blinker on, and the white sedan did the same. Both cars made the turn. Houses on large tree-shaded lots sat far off the road but grew closer together the farther he drove.
“Keep on the same road, and I’ll take a different route,” Ethan said. “At least he’s not following me.”
“Thanks, asshole. Means they’re following Lucky, or me. Or it’s a coincidence.”
Lucky bit his tongue. He had a lot to say but didn’t want to incur Rafael’s wrath. One flick of his finger and the warlock could fry him in his seat.
He made four random turns down streets where the houses sat on quarter-acre lots, maintaining three miles over the speed limit. The sedan followed. “No coincidence.”
“Son of a witch,” Rafael grumbled and hung up on Ethan.
Magic prickled in the cab’s air, like tiptoeing through a minor electrical field. The hairs on Lucky’s arm stood on end. “Dude, dial down the magic.”
“Sorry. Sage has powerful witch-fire. Makes it uncomfortable around other witches and warlocks.” He gave the side of Lucky’s head a long perusal. “Dude, we know you’re a warlock.”
“Well, it’s more than I know.” Lucky’s jaw tightened.
“Point taken. I’ve been there myself.” Rafael scanned the area. “Pull into the parking lot of the Church of the Pines up ahead. Should be empty this time of day.”
“Then what?”
“You have a gun. Get in some target practice.”
“Figures you saw that.” Lucky knocked his fist on the steering wheel.
“No. But you just verified it.” Rafael texted Ethan their location. “Ethan’s not far, coming from the opposite direction. Drive around the church, act like you’re lost or something. We’ll stall them until he arrives.”
Acting like he was searching for a location, Lucky slowed the truck, drove forward, and crawled by a building. The sedan did the same, even though it had room to pass them on the left. The church rolled into sight, and he turned into the first driveway of the massive empty parking lot.
“Does the whole town attend this church?”
“It’s non-denominational. They like everyone and every religion.”
“Even yours?”
Rafael scowled. “Being a witch or a warlock isn’t a religion.”
“People have recognized paganism as a world religious sect.”
“Witches and warlocks are not pagan, so to speak, idiot.” Rafael’s witch-fire sizzled in the air. “Pagan believers think it’s the ancestral religion of the whole of humanity. This church is just non-denominational, not aligned with any religion or sect. You have a lot to learn. What’d you get your master’s in? Building sandcastles?”
Lucky ignored Rafael’s dig and drove close to the church schedule posted on signage by the double doors. The sedan followed, not bothering to hide, remaining close to the second exit, easy for them to block Lucky from leaving. “Now what?”
“Now tell me why they’re following you.” Rafael stared him down.
He thought long and hard about his month since leaving Berkeley. “Why do you think they’re following me? You’re the badass warlock, guard dog to the top witch in the entire western region.”
“Because someone attacked Aspen outside your pharmacy. No one followed her there. Pierre was already there, tracking you,” Rafael countered. “Now these goons are following us. You. It’s your truck. They didn’t take off after Ethan. Their car was in the lighthouse parking lot when Ethan and I arrived.”
Screw me now. Lucky drove to the side of the large one-story church. The sedan moved again in a slow roll. “I don’t know who they are. Pierre showed up at the pharmacy a few days ago. He’s been scoping it out since. Thought he was hunting witches. Not me. I’m a nobody. I had no clue of his identity until today.”
Rafael busted out in a cynical laugh and slapped his palm on his thigh. “Are you for real? You already admitted you’re a Ravenwood. Until recently, the Ravenwoods were working for Andre Charlemagne, the leader of the Black Tide, the biggest, baddest group of black warlocks in the world. Resurrected warlocks from the Witches and Warlocks War. But you don’t know any of that. Do you?”
Chilly slashes caressed Lucky’s spine. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t know other than what I’ve found on the internet?”
“As a matter of fact, everything about you feels authentic, except for the bits and pieces you haven’t told us.” Rafael’s voice softened. “But you want to, right?”
Lucky parked his truck near the rear double doors of the church. “You have no idea how I need to understand who I am.” He’d always fought the light and darkness within himself without understanding a thing.
“I understand. I was in the same boat six years ago. Until I met Sage.”
“So the warlock outside the pharmacy was waiting for a chance to snag me? I don’t understand why he attacked Aspen.”
“Because every black warlock wants to snag a Wilde witch. We kidnapped their leader.” Rafael studied the sedan in the rearview mirror. “Table this conversation. Ethan’s here now. We’ll approach the sedan from opposite sides.” He studied Lucky. “You stay here. Use the gun if things go sideways. Shoot them, not me or Ethan. Call Sage, not the police.”
“No shit, Dexter.” Lucky slipped his hand under the seat and flicked off the safety catch on his small revolver. He’d gotten his carry permit just before he’d returned to the witchworld Mecca of Santa Cruz.
With a swift motion, Rafael placed a business card on the console. It had nothing more printed on it except a number. “This is our emergency line. Any Wilde witch or warlock will answer, but speak to Sage. No one else.”
Rafael jumped out of the truck, leaving Lucky feeling like an incompetent idiot, needing protection from badass he-men. But when it came to magic, they outnumbered him by far. He hated it. Hated that he’d dumped Aspen in jeopardy because of his own ignorance and a bit of cowardice, truth be told. Convincing himself he could help this situation, he eased out of the driver’s side, his phone and the card in his rear pocket. The card may as well be useless. If Ethan and Rafael fell to the two black warlocks, he was a dead man too.
Although he’d left the covenstead earlier to sort through the emotions barraging his head, he refused to foist these men off on another. Lucky had barged through the door to the witchworld and must accept the consequences, good or bad.
A dandelion popped through a gap in the tarmac. He kicked the offensive weed, hating his lame magic. The yellow dandelion head opened. Too bad he couldn’t use the weed to defend himself. Unless… He snapped his fingers and concentrated. An earthy, aromatic magic seemed to envelop him. More dandelions sprouted through the cracks in the parking lot until a field of yellow smirking flowers waved in the breeze. A mysterious magic had swamped him when those vines almost smothered him earlier. His bit of innate magic awakened and raised flags to grab the attention of that foreign earth magic. They both frolicked inside him like long-lost buds. It scared the life out of him. But he sensed he could do magical things now when he never could before. Other than light the occasional candle. Another magical ability he couldn’t identify as an earth warlock.
Halfway to the sedan, Rafael stomped on the new weeds in his path, crushing them under his boots. The warlock didn’t turn in Lucky’s direction, but he sensed the eyeballs ogling him from the back of Rafael’s head.
While Rafael figured Lucky had created the field of yellow weeds, he wouldn’t know the dandelions were root linked. Lucky’s arms grew leaden. He hoped he could control his untrained magic from injuring Ethan and Rafael. He also hoped he didn’t sign his death warrant by magic or otherwise. His strength depleted, and he staggered. Magic use cost the user big-time. A new conundrum.
The sedan doors opened, and two men in their late twenties scrambled out. They carried no weapons, convincing evidence of their warlock status.
“Why’re you following us?” Rafael pulled no punches. “We’re enjoying the town and minding our own business.” Ethan skirted the car from a distance and halted next to Rafael.
“You have something we want,” said Bald and Burly. He sported a trim black goatee, a black T-shirt, and khakis.
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. “Doubt it. We took nothing belonging to you.”
“No one said you took anything, Ravenwood,” said burly man number two with cropped brown hair. His craggy cheeks had courted too many drugs in his youth.
“Do I know you?” Ethan asked.
“You would if you’d remained on the right side of the warlock fence,” Baldy said.
“Your man, Pierre, attacked one of my witches today.” Rafael skid right past “go.” “We’ll send him home when we’re done working him over.”
Relief oozed through a knot in Lucky’s shoulder. The dudes didn’t want him. Everyone in the witchworld knew the Wildes had abducted Andre Charlemagne. A war hovered on the horizon if something didn’t give between the Wildes and the Black Tide. Even though Lucky had shied away from the witchworld, he’d kept his eyes and ears wide open, more so since returning home. Waiting and biding his time. The dark witch web helped keep him in the know.
Both men chortled as if Rafael had taken center stage at a Comic-Con.
“You think we want Pierre? Screw that asshole. He’s just another one of Andre’s bastards. He’ll return home,” Baldy, the ringleader, said. “Make no mistake.”
“Well, you can’t have Andre. Take a hike,” Ethan piped up. “Or suffer the consequences.”
“Consequences? Like this?” Buzz-cut wound up his arm and threw a series of baseball-sized fireballs at Rafael and Ethan. The orange and yellow fire hissed as it whizzed through the air.
Wind gusts slammed into the fireballs, sending sparks and blue embers floating away on the natural sea breeze. There was nothing natural about the gusts of wind Ethan emitted. An air warlock. Lucky logged the tidbit into his memory crypts. He already knew Rafael wielded fire magic, either his own or Sage’s. Lucky didn’t know how it worked when a witch and warlock were bonded. He needed to scour the dark web for more intel.
Vines grew from the root formation of the dandelions and snaked toward the two men. Without knowing how, the intertwined weeds wrenched on his magic, and he heaved in draughts of air to replace his emptying lungs. Fireballs, air, and waterspouts erupted into a magical maelstrom as the warlocks fought. Every iota of his magic emptied onto the tarmac. Tilting to the side, he found the ground closing the gap to his head. He landed hard, crushing the dandelions beneath him. Unable to move a muscle, his mind clouded. Bleary-eyed, he watched the fight continue until the air stilled and an eerie silence fell.
Chapter 10
A boot jabbed his thigh. The fog in Lucky’s head began to clear, and the boot tapped his thigh again.
“Hey, man, you okay?”
Lucky’s muddled head made out the words. Something tied him to the ground, but he realized his own exhaustion rooted him to the tarmac. As the clouds drifted from his vision, he scanned the parking lot, his gaze landing on two man-shaped lumps swaddled in dandelions by the sedan.
He swallowed hard. “Did I do that?”
“You betcha,” Rafael said. “Now you gonna tell us what those men wanted from you?”
Ethan Ravenwood stuck out a hand. He grasped the firm grip and let Ethan haul him to a sitting position, his back against the front wheel. He clenched his head in his hands, needing a moment to recover from exhausting magic he didn’t know existed.
