Page 25 of A Token of Blood and Betrayal (Kennedy Rain #4)

I woke up extremely irritated with Blake.

I should be focusing on important things: the token, my bargain, Deagan, and the unending fallout of my decision to ditch Satine in New Orleans. I shouldn’t be staring at the ceiling, wondering if Blake would show up today. If he might call.

Grumbling, I forced myself out of bed, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, then used the last seven percent of my phone’s battery to call the electric company.

They transferred me from person to person and put me on hold after hold for so long that my teeth were brushed, my hair and makeup were done, and the trash, which included the food Christian had started to cook and everything remaining in my fridge and freezer, was taken outside to the dumpster.

When I finally connected with someone who assured me they were the final authority on the matter, they rejected my explanation for not paying the bill.

I would have to leave the Null. It wasn’t something I wanted to do until I had the fey bargain canceled, altered, or subverted, but Blake said Canyon couldn’t get to me as long as I was driving. What were the odds he’d find me at the bank or electric company?

Higher than I wanted them to be.

I was going to have to take the chance though. The Rain needed to be operational, and the staff deserved to live in the modern age.

If I was going to go to the bank, I wanted to understand the finances better, so I asked Sullens to bring flashlights to the office.

We went through The Rain’s purchase orders, invoices, and everything else that needed to be paid, like the loan my parents had decided to take out a year ago.

Dad had always been in charge of the finances, but he wasn’t the most organized person in the world.

It took several hours to make sense of anything, and when we finally finished the review, the situation could only be labeled as dire.

“We need more money,” I said.

“Yes.” Sullens straightened a stack of unpaid bills—the power company wasn’t the only one past due.

“It’s my fault.”

Sullens had the decency not to reply.

“I’d assumed my parents set up autopays like everyone else living in the twenty-first century.”

“And you thought the power company sent you past due notices because…”

I gave him a weak smile. “A glitch in their system?”

Sullens didn’t think I was funny. Sighing, I slumped in my chair and stared at the paper stacked across the desk.

“We will get this under control,” Sullens said.

“Not without more money.”

His mouth tightened, a clear sign he agreed with my assessment.

How had my parents expected to make ends meet?

The loan had carried them for the past six months, but that wasn’t the case anymore, thanks to me refusing to admit Arcuro’s and Lehr’s sanctioned paranorms. The werewolves who’d signed my tent list last week had sent digital payments to my personal banking app.

It would be enough to turn the power back on, but even if we’d been fully booked this whole time—something that hadn’t happened in The Rain’s history—the “allowance” Arcuro and Lehr would have sent wouldn’t have been enough to cover the next six months of operations.

We needed a lot more money.

“I don’t want to price out paranorms who need the Null but can’t afford it,” I said.

“Your idea of tiered pricing is not a bad one.”

“But how would that work? Do I require them to submit their bank statements when they book a room?”

“You can,” he said.

“What if they have multiple accounts and send the one with the lowest balance? What if they refuse the tiered pricing or demand better accommodations for the higher prices?” That last one, I didn’t mind actually.

I wanted to update and renovate The Rain.

I could see the potential, could see what it might look and feel like.

It shouldn’t be in its current condition with outdated wallpaper, worn-thin carpets, and television sets that were basically antiques now.

The hotel’s architecture was so unique, the location was perfect, and the view was amazing.

If we’d catered to humans, we could have charged twice as much as Lehr and Arcuro sent us. And we could have kept every penny.

“You do see that you are overstaffed,” Sullens said.

It wasn’t the first time he’d brought it up.

He’d apparently mentioned it to my parents as well.

In the past, they’d only hired when positions were vacated, which was after an employee’s contracted term expired or they decided to leave early.

My parents changed that policy after meeting Christian.

He was as anti-abuse of power as me, and he’d managed to get them to team up with him.

Together, they’d helped paranorms escape abusive situations, bypass the sanctioned lists, and establish new lives in safer conditions.

Those were all the things I’d wanted to do years ago, yet they hadn’t supported me back then.

“I’m not firing anyone,” I said.

Sullens sighed.

I stared at the open envelopes, the printed invoices, and the multiple notepads Dad had scratched numbers down on.

From the latter stack, I pulled free a page listing nine cash payments that didn’t reconcile with anything we’d sorted through.

“Maybe these will make sense when we look at the online accounts.”

“They might be theoretical numbers,” Sullens said. “Wishful thinking in an attempt to cover expenses.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t think so. The amounts almost matched what I’d charged the werewolves last week, meaning they seemed like off-the-books payments for services rendered. Or, more specifically, they looked like thank you for saving me from the asshole who turned me kind of payments.

The problem was, we couldn’t match the numbers to any bank deposits. If they were thank-you payments, where had they gone?

“We won’t know until the power returns,” Sullens said, not for the first time that afternoon.

“We have a better idea of the money situation now.” My response was vague because I hadn’t one hundred percent committed to leaving The Rain yet.

“We can talk again when you return.” The chair opposite my desk squeaked as Sullens stood. He turned toward the door.

“Thank you,” I called.

He looked over his shoulder, and shockingly, he smiled. “You’re welcome, Ms. Rain. I’m glad you are beginning to take an interest in The Rain.”

I made a face after he left. I hadn’t been not paying attention; I’d just been mourning, adjusting, surviving, and changing what I could while trying to rescue Deagan from Arcuro’s compound.

And now I was trying to save Garion.

Maybe I was taking on a tiny bit more than I could handle.

Resting my elbows on the desk, I put my palms to my forehead and attempted to massage away the tension there. I needed to find Astrid. I should also check on Deagan again. Melissa had said he was still sleeping when I saw her in the lobby. Maybe he—

I yelped when the phone rang beside me. I’d known it was there, but I was so used to everything else not working, and the ring was so loud and piercing, I just hadn’t expected it. Plus I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used an honest-to-God landline.

I picked it up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Ms. Rain.” Irritation saturated the familiar voice. “Come fetch your menace sidekick.”

It took me a second to identify the person on the phone and to guess the menace he referred to. Leaning back in my chair, I crossed one leg over the other and toyed with the phone cord. “Owen, you sound stressed. Still having problems with your wards?”

“She’s— Stop that!” Something thumped in the background. “She’s touching things again.”

“Only because you wouldn’t give me the key,” Astrid said in the background. Then, louder, “Tell him to give me the key.”

“The key to what?” I asked, genuinely curious. I hadn’t known Astrid left The Rain, let alone why she’d decided to go to Gamecraft & Witchery.

“My safe.” The last word came out strangled. “It’s not in my office. Stay away from my desk!”

I covered the phone receiver, muffling my laugh. Astrid absolutely loved getting under Owen’s skin. And it was so easy.

“If you don’t get her out of my store in the next thirty seconds, I’m selling her warped witch glass and destroying your credit score.”

“I can hear you,” Astrid called out.

“Destroying my credit score?” I kept my voice light despite his words hitting a nerve. Did he know how bad The Rain’s finances were? Probably. He always knew way more than he should. “What did I ever do to you?”

“You brought her here. And you gave her a coven.”

“You can’t give a witch a coven,” I said, twirling and un-twirling the cord. “Plus she did give you a chance to join.”

“Kennedy—”

“Give her the phone,” I said. Owen was reaching the very end of his patience. Besides, I wanted to know why she was there.

Owen grumbled something but complied.

“Hey, you,” Astrid said, the phone obviously in her hand now. “What’s happening? Have any magic requests only I can perform?”

“He is going to ban you one day,” I said.

“Nah, he loves me.”

“I’m working on a curse right now,” Owen said in the background.

Astrid laughed.

“Why are you tormenting him today?” I asked.

“I had an opening on my calendar.”

“Astrid.”

“It’s the truth,” she said. “I figured out my issue—”

“Have you,” Owen quipped.

“—and there’s that whole deadline you have.”

“Deadline?” Was she deliberately being vague because Owen, connoisseur of secrets and buyer and seller of information, was listening to every word?

I didn’t know what she was talking about though.

The closest thing I had to a deadline was resolving my bargain with Canyon.

She knew about the bargain, but I hadn’t talked to her yet about the possibility of nulling Garion’s token.

“Yes,” Astrid said, drawing the word out. “Christian told me about the power outage.” She emphasized the last two words. First, Christian hadn’t been to The Rain since the electricity cut off. Second, Astrid lived at The Rain. She knew the power was out without having to be told.

Would Christian have told her about trying the spell? That didn’t make sense, but what else could it be?

“Are you talking about the power outage that makes you wish your coven was here?” I asked.

“That’s the one.”

I scowled at the top of my desk. Apparently, Christian had talked to her. I guess he was eager to get things rolling. If the null spell worked, Melissa would be one step closer to having her own place within a new magical void.

“Okay,” I said. “And you need a special witch glass to create it?”

“Yep.”

“Then why aren’t you trying to get on his good side?” I asked.

She hmmmed thoughtfully. “Turn to the left.”

“Why?” Owen replied.

“I want to see if you have a good side.”

“Oh my God,” I said. “Why don’t you just sleep with him and get it over with?”

“Kennedy thinks we should sleep together,” she said.

“Never.” Owen put an extra big period at the end of that response.

I sighed. “Give the phone back to him.”

“Catch,” she said.

I scrunched up my face, bracing for the clatter of the phone hitting the floor.

“What?” Owen snapped.

Huh. He caught it.

“Nice reflexes,” I said. “Just sell Astrid the witch glass.”

“Not until I know what it’s for, and even then, it will be at a premium.”

“That’s called price gouging.” It sounded like Astrid was speaking over Owen’s shoulder.

“It’s called an irritation fee. Get her out, Kennedy.”

I rolled my eyes. We all knew he was more than capable of expelling her from his store.

Wrestling her out the door might not look great in front of the human customers, but if he really didn’t want Astrid there, he could have attuned his wards to prevent her from entering. Interesting that he didn’t.

“The witch glass is for something I’m working on,” I said. Then, knowing it would likely lead him to make the wrong assumption, I added, “It’s for the project we aren’t telling anyone about.”

“It is not.” Disbelief more than denial laced his words.

“Promise.” I wasn’t lying. We weren’t telling people about Astrid’s attempt to replicate the Null spell.

We also weren’t telling people about the dampening spell we’d purchased from Canyon last week.

Owen had set up that deal, and I found it hard to believe he hadn’t known the so-called firestone witch wasn’t a fey.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me this?” Owen’s voice was distant, like he’d lowered the phone to his side.

“You shouldn’t be so nosy,” Astrid replied. She really did get a kick out of driving him crazy.

“Five hundred—” The phone went dead. I didn’t know how much witch glass cost, but I was pretty sure it was at least double what anyone else would have paid.

I placed the receiver back into its holder just after the beep, beep, beep signaled the end of the connection.