Читать книгу The Witch's Quest - Michele Hauf - Страница 11

Chapter 4

Kelyn followed the witch into a familiar loft. She gestured for him to sit by the industrial steel kitchen counter that stretched a dozen feet and served as a divider between the cooking area and the rest of the vast, open space that made up half the upper floor of an old three-story business building. The businesses had vacated decades ago, and apartments were slowly taking over. Hipsters and yuppies and, apparently, witches, had moved in.

“This used to be my sister, Daisy Blu’s, place,” he remarked as he slid onto a wooden stool and crossed his arms. Looking over the loft, he recalled that Daisy’s decorating sense had been nil, and Valor’s wasn’t much more evident. Though she did have a motorcycle sitting in the corner before the eight-foot-high windows that overlooked the street. A street bike. Its back fender sat beside it on the floor, and a black metal toolbox sprawled tools beside that.

“Yep. When Daisy moved in with Beck a couple years ago, I grabbed this place. Love it. And the freight elevator fits my bike.”

“Nice. So you have no desire to live in Anoka, closer to the brewery?”

“Do you know that Anoka is infested with ghosts? And I have an affinity for seeing ghosts. So not cool. I prefer Tangle Lake. Just far enough away from the suburbs, but I can still get to work in half an hour.”

“What is that noise?”

“I’m vacuuming. You should see it swing around soon. It’s over behind the bed right now.”

“One of those robotic things?”

“Yes. I am allergic to housework, so I have my cat do it.”

“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t even sure where to start with that one, so decided to drop it for now. And a cat? Yeesh. Not his favorite domesticated animal.

Kelyn turned toward the counter to find Valor leaning on it with her elbows. If he were not mistaken, he should take that wide-eyed, dreamy gaze as somewhat smitten. But he probably was mistaken. Reading women was his forte. But reading witches? Not.

“So, this list.” He shoved the wrinkled blue paper he’d kept toward her. “That’s it?”

“And a few more essentials that are required for most spells. Herbs. Crystals. Rat skulls and angel dust. But I’ve got all that stuff.”

“You have angel dust?” He knew that was a precious commodity and hard to come by.

“Sure. Got some from Zen, your brother’s girlfriend. I used it for the spell in the—er...you want a beer?”

If he told the chick who worked at a brewery that beer—any kind of alcohol—wasn’t to his taste, and he much preferred water, would that annoy her?

Why was he worried about annoying her? He had no stake in whether or not she liked or hated him. All that mattered was she had a plan to help him get back his wings.

“Just water, please.”

She quirked a brow. Judging him. Whatever.

“Fine. I think we should collect the ingredients in the order I’ve written them for you.” She filled a glass of water from the tap and handed it to him. “You know of any werewolves looking to donate a claw?”

“Not willingly. But Trouble does have a beef with a nasty bastard who keeps trying to mark my brother’s territory as his own. I could ask him about it. And if you know Trouble...” And he knew she did.

“The guy likes a good fight.”

“Always.” And that was enough mention of his oldest brother. “So, once we get all these things and you invoke the spell, what, exactly, do we do in Faery?”

“Uh, find your wings?”

He stared at her for the few moments he thought it would take for her to rationalize that insane statement. But in the process, Kelyn got lost in a shimmery brown gleam. Her eyes twinkled like stars during twilight. It couldn’t be real. He’d never seen such brilliant eyes before.

The witch snapped her fingers before his face, rudely bringing him up from what he realized was an openmouthed gape. “Uh...”

“You don’t want to find your wings?”

“I do, but Faery is immense. It’s larger than...well, the world, I’m sure.”

“It’s another realm. I get that. But the reason I chose this spell over another that also opened a portal is that this one homes us in on the item we seek. If all goes well, we should walk in. See the wings. Grab them. And get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Sounds too easy.”

“Sounds like a fun ride on the wild side.” She pulled open the fridge door and took out a beer, twisted off the cap and tossed that in a mason jar half-filled with bottle caps. The brown beer bottle sported the Decadent Dames label on the side. “So why don’t you give Trouble a call?”

“Why don’t you?” Kelyn asked.

Valor slammed the bottle on the counter. And he immediately regretted his accusing tone. “What do you think went on between your brother and me? Because if you think anything beyond friendship happened—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He cut her off because he didn’t want to know. “You and I? We’re just working together toward a common goal. What you do with your free time is not my business.”

“You make it sound as if it bothers you. I can be friends with your family, Kelyn. I’m friends with Blade, too. And Daisy Blu. So get over yourself and don’t get your wings in such a twist.” She tilted back a swallow and then held the bottle to her chest. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You don’t have any, uh...”

“Valor.” Kelyn reached across the counter and grasped her hand, which startled her so much she set down the beer. “We’re good.”

“How can you say that?”

“I just did. Two words. We’re. Good. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t need to apologize. What happened was a result of a choice I made. And only I can live with that. You don’t get to share that with me. And while it pretty much knocked the wind out of my sails, I’m still here. And I’m doing something about it now. So if you want to help me, then do your witchy thing and stop trying to take the credit for something you didn’t do.”

“I...” She exhaled heavily.

It had been difficult to say all that. Because really? Part of Kelyn did blame the witch. If she hadn’t been in the Darkwood in the first place... But the wise, logical part of him knew that he’d had total control over what had happened in the forest that day four months earlier. And he was no man to put the blame on anyone else.

“Fine. I can do that. I mean, I want to do that,” she said. “But please have patience with me because it’s much easier to say than to do.”

“I get that.”

“I like you, Kelyn. You’re a good guy. Faery. How are you without your wings? I need to know.”

“I’m the same as ever. Except I can’t fly, can’t shift to small shape and I’ve the strength of a regular human man now. Otherwise? Peachy.”

She began to frown, but he put up an admonishing finger. “Forward. For both of us. Okay?” He offered a hand for her to shake.

Valor shook it. “Deal. You call your brother. Let’s go kick some werewolf ass.”

“I’m cool with that—what?”

The rhythmic hum of the vacuum alerted Kelyn to the robotic disk that glided toward the kitchen. And on the back of the thing sat a plush gray cat. It cast a golden gaze up at Kelyn as it rode by, calm and regal upon its modern-day carriage.

Kelyn tugged up his leg in a protective move. “Seriously?”

“That’s Mooshi,” Valor said. “I told you the cat does the cleaning. He can ride that thing through the whole place. What’s wrong? You don’t like cats?”

“They’re not my favorite critters.” Kelyn again caught the cat’s eye, but he read its expression as more of an I’m-bored-what-else-is-there-to-do? look than anything else. “Mooshi, master and commander of the hardwood seas. Who’da thought?”

* * *

Valor had suggested Kelyn first ask his brothers Trouble and Stryke if either wanted to donate a claw, but realized the error of her ways when the faery cast her a horrified gape. Right. That would be like cutting off a man’s fingernail. But really? It was for a good cause. What was one fingernail when compared to a man’s reason for existence?

So, instead, they decided to track down the werewolf Borse Magnuson, who was known as an all-around asshole and resident idiot. A few years ago he’d been involved in blood games, pitting starving vampires against one another in death matches. Creed Saint-Pierre, Kelyn’s grandfather, had put an end to most of those illegal gaming dens. Now, lately, Borse had been trying to establish territory on Trouble’s property to the north of Tangle Lake.

So their path led them to the oldest Saint-Pierre brother. And everything Valor read in Kelyn’s body language as he neared his brother told her they were not right. She and Trouble, that was. Trouble told them to stop by the local gym and he met them as he was exiting the building. He wandered over to his monster Ford truck, painted in olive camo and sporting silver wolves on the mud flaps.

Valor went to bump fists with Trouble, but the man didn’t oblige her. Right. Not speaking to her since Kelyn’s wings had been taken. She caught Kelyn’s tightened expression. What? Did the guy think she’d gotten it on with his brother? And why did that matter to him? Oh.

Assuming a casual stance, Valor grabbed her thick hair and, corralling it into a ponytail, swished it over her shoulder as a distraction from what she felt was a blush riding up her neck. Did Kelyn have some kind of thing for her? He’d mentioned as much in the Darkwood that dreadful night. He couldn’t possibly. She was the witch who had changed his life for the worse.

And yet. There was something she had missed. And why hadn’t she realized that until right now?

Bad attraction vibes, girl. So terrible at picking up on that one.

“You two are after Borse?” Trouble smacked a fist into his palm. “I want in.”

“Trouble, this isn’t a matter with which we need help. I just need some info on the guy. Weaknesses. Flaws. Favorite drinking holes.”

“Wait, Kelyn.” Much as she didn’t want to pit brother against brother, Valor felt having a werewolf in the mix could help. And with Kelyn’s strength waning? “Did you tell him why we’re working together?”

Kelyn crossed his arms, lifting his chin defiantly. When he went all serious, two frown lines appeared between his eyebrows.

No, he hadn’t told his brother anything. And what kind of tension was she picking up on now? Yes, there was definitely something she had missed between herself and Kelyn.

“Can I tell him?” she asked carefully.

“Why the hell are you two even standing alongside each other?” Trouble asked. “I thought you never wanted to see her again.”

“Those are words you put into my mouth, Trouble. I hold nothing against Valor.”

“She was responsible for you losing your wings, man.”

“It was my choice.”

“I’m helping him to get his wings back.” Valor rushed in before Trouble’s bouncy stance turned into a one-two punch to the mean witch who had hurt his brother. The man had a tendency to react quickly and only ask the important questions after the pain had been delivered. “I have a spell that will open a portal into Faery. We need a few items for that spell. The first being a werewolf claw.”

Kelyn’s admonishing tilt of head was expected, but she couldn’t worry about pissing off the faery any more than she already had done.

Trouble slammed his fists to his hips. “You trust her?”

“I do. And I suspect Borse will be perfectly fine with one less claw.”

“You got that right. But you’ll have to take it when he’s shifted. He’ll tear you apart, brother.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“No, seriously, Kelyn. I know you are the toughest and strongest of the Saint-Pierre boys. Or at least you were until...her.”

Valor caught the werewolf’s accusatory look, but she set back her shoulders and held her head high.

“You need help,” Trouble said. “And if the witch can get back your wings, I’m all in for ripping Borse’s claws out.”

“We only need one,” Valor reminded the guy, who, she had no doubt, would take off all ten of the werewolf’s claws if given the opportunity. “Kelyn and I learned he’s going out on the hunt tonight.”

“Then we are, too,” Trouble said. “But no witches allowed. This is a man’s job.”

“She’s got magic,” Kelyn said. “She’s coming along.”

* * *

They tracked Borse to the dive bar at the edge of Tangle Lake. It was a favorite watering hole for the Saint-Pierre brothers. The bartender knew Kelyn was always the designated driver and served him iced lemonade with a nod and a wink. Half a dozen humans lingered at the bar, a pair of them discussing the latest Twins game.

At the pool table, Borse commandeered a game to himself. He was drunk. And it generally took a lot of alcohol to get a werewolf drunk. The trio decided to wait and follow Borse out to his car before approaching him.

It felt wrong going after a drunkard. Even knowing what an asshole Borse was, Kelyn had problems using violence to get what he wanted. Completely the opposite of Trouble, who nursed a whiskey and eyed the dartboard. Kelyn had always won at darts against Trouble. He hadn’t attempted a game since losing his wings. He didn’t want to try now. He just didn’t.

Beside him sat Valor, who’d passed on the lowbrow beer and instead had asked for a lemonade, as well. She wore a thigh strap with a blade in the holster. She’d said it was a ritual blade she used for her spells and would be best to remove the claw. She and Trouble hadn’t spoken since they’d arranged to work together, and while Kelyn knew his brother had a stick up his butt about the witch after all that had happened, he was surprised he’d not picked up on any sort of weird sexual tension between the two.

Had Trouble lied about them getting it on? Valor had seemed defensive about just that, but Kelyn had cut her off, not wanting to listen to any excuses. The woman was an adult. She could have sex with whomever she wanted to.

The creaky bar door slammed and Trouble gave a short whistle to Kelyn. Borse had left, muttering something about vampires. The werewolf had parked down the street behind a chain-link fence and next to a rotting supply shed that sat at the edge of the city park. So they had the advantage of darkness and privacy.

“What the fuck?” Borse spun around at the approaching threesome. His stance wobbled, but he maintained an upright position. “Saint-Pierres, eh? That land isn’t all yours, Trouble, and you know it.”

Trouble punched a fist into his opposite palm and lunged for the man. The first smack of fist to jaw resounded through the park and scattered a flock of pigeons.

“Stay out of the way,” Kelyn said, stepping before Valor, who had pulled out her athame in defense.

She didn’t need to be told to avoid danger. But she didn’t need to be protected, either. Especially not by the man who had once already—ah, yes. What was she thinking? Valor stepped back, giving Kelyn every bit of respect the man deserved. She had to be careful not to offend more than she already had done. A man’s sense of pride was always a delicate thing.

It didn’t take long for Borse and Trouble’s scuffle to escalate, and as their antics moved them beneath a shadowed copse of willow, the men shifted. Shirts tore away, though they both had the sense to shift halfway. Keeping their lower halves in human shape ensured that they remained partially clothed. A necessity should an innocent wander onto the scene and a quick shift back to were form was required.

The two shifted wolves went at each other while Kelyn stalked close but did not step in to interrupt. Valor assumed they both knew what they were doing, so, holding her blade at the ready, she waited.

But would a little magic provide Trouble the advantage? Her air magic could make Trouble’s punches move faster, his leaps more aggressive. If she could focus it to land only on him and not the other wolf...

“No,” she admonished herself quietly. “Let the boys handle this one.”

Grunts and growls accompanied the battle that seemed as if it would continue indefinitely. Valor cast Kelyn a questioning look. He returned a shrug and a nod. He got the hint.

Kelyn lunged for Borse and delivered a fist to his bloody jaw. Valor had heard the rumors about Kelyn. That one punch from him would put any man—or beast—down for the count.

Borse shook his head and smirked at Kelyn when he realized the faery was not as strong as rumor told. He grabbed Kelyn’s arm even as Trouble swung a leg and took out Borse’s stance. Both Borse and Kelyn went down.

And Valor clenched her fingers into her palms. She thrust out her arm, bending her fingers in preparation to release some air magic. Sucking in her lower lip, she bit, almost drawing blood. Cursing at the pain, she inhaled sharply when she saw the fighters roll to a stop. Kelyn landed on top of Borse, and Borse lay still. The thug wolf was out. But for how long?

Kelyn thrust out his hand, gesturing for her to hand the knife to him.

“Oh. Right.” She rushed to him and slapped the hilt into his hand.

Trouble, in half his hulking furry glory, leaned over them. He smelled musky and hot. An animal riled. Valor didn’t fear the man whose upper half resembled an übermuscled wolf, including a full wolf’s head. The one she was concerned with now was Kelyn, and he—he had pressed the side of the blade to his forehead, as if in thought, and closed his eyes as he crouched over Borse.

“Kelyn,” she said, “hurry! He could come to any second.”

“I can’t.” He pushed himself up and stepped away from the fallen werewolf, walking a wide circle.

Trouble swiped a big, clawed paw for the knife, but Kelyn jerked it away from him. “Get out of here,” he said to his brother. “I’m not going to do it. I can’t.”

“What? Do you need me to do it?” Valor asked. Her whole body shook. She was nervous and exhilarated and scared all at once.

“No, I mean I won’t do this.” He handed her the blade. “Who am I to harm another man for something I want? It’s not a need, Valor. I want my wings back, but I’ll survive without them. As deserving as he may be, I won’t maim Borse just to make it so.”

The werewolf on the ground stirred.

“Let’s get out of here.” Kelyn grabbed her by the upper arm and pushed her in the direction of the bar where they had parked his Firebird. “Trouble! Go!”

Trouble growled and snorted, but the werewolf took off in the opposite direction and loped through the park.

And while Valor was disappointed they’d not gotten what had been but a stroke of the blade away, she was even more impressed at Kelyn’s sacrifice. Once again. And his honor.

He truly was a good man. And she was fortunate to know such a person.

They climbed into his car and watched through the chain-link fence for a while. To see if Borse would wander out in werewolf form, or perhaps man shape. And to make sure Trouble didn’t return looking for the trouble he famously indulged in.

“I’m sorry,” Valor said quietly.

Kelyn turned on her with a surprising rage in his eyes. “I am tired of your apologies. You did nothing wrong, witch!”

“Would you bring it down a notch? I was apologizing because I know you want your wings, and now getting them seems an impossibility. Would you let someone care about you? Seriously!” She gripped the door handle tightly. “You’ve more of a chip on your shoulder about letting someone in than about getting back your lost wings. What’s your hang-up?”

“I don’t have a hang-up, other than wondering why in Beneath I decided working with you would be a good idea.”

“Because you trusted me.”

“Trust had nothing to do with it. I’m here because you were my only hope.”

“Sorr—” She cut off the apology. “Fine. I disappointed you.”

“I was the one who refused to take the claw. It’s all on me.”

“Right. Do you thrive on the guilt, Kelyn?”

He cast her a condemning glare, which Valor felt at the back of her neck like an icy prickle over her skin. So maybe he wasn’t as honorable as she’d surmised.

“Okay, not going to discuss that one,” she said. “On to plan B. Do we have a plan B?”

“I do.”

“Which is?”

Kelyn shifted into gear and the vehicle rolled over the tarmac. “There’s a cabin about ten miles south from here. Belongs to a peller. My sister’s husband, Beck, had a run-in with the owner a few years ago. The man...can time travel.”

Valor shot him a glance, but it was too dark in the car to see his reaction to her sudden interest.

“I’m not so sure I believe in the time-travel stuff,” he continued. “But he was also a wolf hunter. He hunts all sorts of species, actually. Anyway, the cabin is sometimes empty because he’s gone. In another time.”

“That sounds too cool, and at the same time, severely whacked.”

“Yeah, but if the cabin is empty, I say we take a look around. If the guy hunts wolves, there could be...things.”

“Like claws?”

She sensed Kelyn nodded. And Valor smiled. “You’re in the driver’s seat.”