Page 15 of Curses & Cold Brew (Maple Hollow #2)

RAMONA

N ormally, the smell of death in the air brought me nothing but joy, but when I felt Lyra’s soul separate from her body, it brought me nothing but dread.

Three deals coming to fruition in one week wasn’t just unusual, it was too suspicious to be a coincidence.

Everything I once felt with assurance now wavered.

Would my sigil still be on her skin? Would I be faced with yet another failure?

Over a week had passed since the first soul has been taken from me.

Trying to find the soul thief was leading me to fruitless dead ends and in infuriating circles.

The last three days in particular had been insufferably long .

. . and I was determined not to think about if the absence of a certain witch had made them feel even longer.

I was halfway across the graveyard when a flashlight beam hit me straight in the eyes. I lifted a hand with a snarl as an echoing voice called, “Stop knocking boots in my graveyard, Dean. People live here, you know.”

“I’m not knocking anyone’s boots here, Randy,” I called back. “The last thing I need is some supernatural STI. I’ve got business to attend to.”

“Ah, Ramona,” the monster called back.

He lowered his flashlight, revealing he was perched on a stool opposite his cousin, Rudy, a half-finished game of cards between them.

An old wooden sign propped up on an apple barrel served as their makeshift table.

Several empty beer bottles were scattered around the tall grass.

The mausoleum that Randy had moved into was wide open behind them.

With my eyes adjusting to the light, I could make out his plush cot where the previous resident’s coffin had sat.

Nothing like two pumpkin monsters having a card game in the middle of a graveyard . . .

Yep, of all the towns I’d ever lived in, Maple Hollow was officially the strangest.

“Evening, Rudy,” I called to the town medical examiner. He was one of the chattiest busybodies around. He even gave Agnes a run for her money.

Rudy saluted two long fingers off the brow of his orange head. “How’s it shaking, troublemaker? Hell keeping you busy?”

I rolled my eyes. Rudy was the epitome of dad energy.

“It’s a nice night for a walk,” I replied, straightening my spine and slipping my hands into my pockets. “I have business with the recently departed Lyra.”

“Lyra died?” Randy’s voice pitched in his surprise. “And here I was certain she would make it to nine hundred.”

“Folks are dropping like fireflies these days,” Rudy interjected. “Hope we don’t have another you-know-what on our hands. That was a lot of messy paperwork trying to fudge those details.”

“Hell forbid you have to do your job,” I mumbled to myself. What was the earshot like on pumpkin heads, anyway?

“You had a deal with ol’ Lyra then, eh, Ramona?” Randy stood and dusted his hands on his jeans. “She was quite the looker.”

“Such was her nature,” I replied tightly. “Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

“If you come across any wayward teens on your way through the graves, tell ’em to scram, will ya? I hate to be a downer, but the ghouls and lingering spirits get all riled up and keep me awake all night.”

I huffed a laugh at that. “I’ll demand you get your beauty sleep.”

“Amen,” Rudy mocked with a whistle. “You’re looking terrible these days, cousin. Losing your deep orange hue.”

“If the lack of sleep involved me getting laid, I wouldn’t be such a sour squash,” Randy added with a snicker. “But I haven’t been able to get to second base without having to chase off some horny townies. Sort of dampens the mood, if you know what I mean.”

“Gross,” I grumbled as I wandered toward the mausoleum without a formal goodbye. “I feel like I need to take a shower.”

I wandered under a twisted, old elm, its dead leaves brushing my shoulders as I crested the hill of the graveyard and down the other side, to where the larger family plots resided.

Lyra had taken up residence here about a century ago and had sold her soul to me for a constant supply of food.

I’d made Lyra promise to eat only the out-of-towners, but a reclusive succubus could only do so much.

The ivy and moss-covered stone of her former home turned eternal resting place came into view, the door left ajar.

I pushed it open, and the smell of earth, rot, and death met me in an instant.

Her remains lay in the stone sarcophagus in the middle of the space, beautiful and terrifying no more.

Her vacant white eyes stared up at the marbled ceiling, and her greyscaly skin was stretched tight over her bones that would likely turn to ash in a matter of days.

“So long, old friend.” I spoke softly, not wanting to wake any other dead.

Succubi were creatures of hell, after all.

Created to feast on the lust of the unchaste.

The bones of those whose life forces she’d drained were littered about the swamp.

As far as monsters went, she’d been a clean-and-kept one who’d never shat where she ate.

Something more of us should have learned by now.

After bidding her vessel a final farewell, I looked around for what I’d come for: the sigil on her bare thigh.

It was still unbroken .

A warm glow peeked out from behind the stone container and lifted into the air before me as if drawn to my power. The golden orb vibrated until I reached out my palm, giving it a place to land.

Lyra’s soul.

Thank every fucking devil in hell.

A huge wave of relief hit me when I pocketed the orb.

Whoever had stolen the other two souls was still out there, but they weren’t as close on my tail as I’d feared.

I could handle someone in my orbit as long as they didn’t have all of my most intimate deals on their radar.

Saul and Maude had been humans. Maybe this thief couldn’t track my paranormal clients as easily?

Green eyes and brilliant red hair shouldn’t have flashed through my mind, nor the feeling of melancholy.

I’d sent the witch away, and it had been the right thing to do.

No more Watson to my Sherlock. She should be safe as long as only a few people had seen us together.

Safe with her coven, safe with her warnings, safe if we could manage to keep our distance.

But can I actually do that?

I judged my own resistance to the draw she had on me. Maybe I was spelled? An obsession spell that she’d placed on me the second time we’d kissed? That had to be it. I prided myself on my immaculate self-control. No one riled me up these days. I’d put all that burning passion to bed long ago.

Seven Hells, what I would give to kiss her again.

Fuck!

The little witch had completely warped my mind.

No .

I was determined to figure out who was behind these soul snatchings and get back to being the terrifying demon I’d always been. I might even take Agnes up on her offer to meet her at the club again and return my life to its normal equilibrium.

No more witches.

After calling in the deal I’d made with Iris, we would go back to being strangers who happened to live in the same enchanted town. Nothing more. That was exactly what I would do.

With renewed confidence and my brokered soul in hand, I wandered through the graveyard, determined not to think about the green-eyed witch and all the chaos she left in her wake.