Page 26 of Curses & Keys (Curses & Gods #1)

PHAEDRA

H awthorne and Jamison leave the jet together.

After a quick perimeter sweep, Gatlin pulls the second SUV close to the plane for me to hop in.

It takes thirty minutes to reach his home in the heart of London.

I’m not sure what I expected, but it isn’t the industrial-looking brick building sitting in front of us.

With its massive windows encased in a startlingly cobalt blue color, Gatlin’s home stands out from its mundane neighbors.

My surprise must be apparent because when I catch Gatlin’s gaze in the rearview mirror, there’s the slightest hint of satisfaction in his eyes. When I wink at him, his expression immediately slides into its usual scowl.

Intrigued by the exterior, I hop out of the vehicle and follow him into his home. The brown brick extends to the interior walls, but the bright blue casing is gone.

From the light wood floors to the white beams in the ceiling, the bright and airy interior has been completely renovated. Patio doors at one end of the long living room lead out to an extensive balcony. From beyond the railing, I see a small courtyard.

I turn toward the other end of the room and gasp.

The large windows I saw on the exterior frame the living room from floor to ceiling, extending the view from the inside to the outside.

Light pours through their wide openings, drenching the room in the warmth of the sun and bringing an open and peaceful feeling to the space.

I slowly walk around the room, admiring how the tan and white furnishings continue the airy theme.

White wooden bookshelves stand tall against the brick and are full of worn books, framed pictures, and small mementos.

I lean in to study a snapshot of a younger Gatlin standing in front of a pyramid in Egypt with a broad smile on his face.

The carefree expression looks good on him, better than his usual permanent scowl.

Feeling a presence behind me, I swivel around. “You should smile more often.”

Gatlin is leaning silently against the wall watching me. He shakes his head. “That was a long time ago.”

That’s too bad . “Your home is stunning. Did you design everything?”

He snorts. “Hardly. It used to be a warehouse. A famous artist in the seventies converted it.”

I wait for him to say something more, but he only stares steadily at me. Is he trying to figure me out or waiting for me to steal something?

Mathias glances up from the laptop where he’s buried his head since we arrived. “Sorry, Phaedra. I should have asked sooner. Would you like something to eat or drink?”

My lips part in surprise at the sound of my name on his lips. Maybe he’s right, and I should reach out more. Our conversation earlier has eased things between us. I wink at him. “Thank you. That would be lovely. What a gracious host you are.”

Gatlin glares at Mathias and pushes past me to head to what I presume is the kitchen.

Mathias chuckles. “It’s taken me a few decades, but I swear he has manners.”

“Ha. Ha,” Gatlin snarls at Mathias as he returns with a glass of ice water. “I hope this is okay. I’ll order some groceries and get you something better.”

I take the glass and smile. “Water is perfect, thanks.” After taking several sips, I find a coaster and set the drink down.

“I’d love a tour.” His home has been the biggest surprise with its reflection of warmth and spaciousness.

The polar opposite of the intense man across from me. I want to see more.

Gatlin gathers his hair and puts it into a bun, making him look much more relaxed. “Living room. Dining.” He waves his hand from one end of the room to the other. “The kitchen is this way.”

I laugh at his brusque demeanor but then realize I would probably be the same if he came to the farmhouse. It’s my sanctuary. What would I do if I suddenly had a visitor?

“I’m sorry you had to bring me here,” I offer as we step into the kitchen. “I expected you to live in a bachelor pad, not this wonderful home. It took me by surprise. But I get it. It’s your sanctuary. I’ll try not to disturb you too much.”

Surprise crosses his face. “It’s fine. I’ll get used to you.” He stops. “Sorry. I mean…” He blows out a huge breath. “I’m not used to anyone but the four of us.”

I don’t know what to say. I like being around them, but I don’t want to cause any trouble. Maybe I should call Mercer and ask for a room somewhere. Thinking about it, I lean against the counter and look around at the kitchen.

White cabinets and walls continue the aesthetic from the living room, but with the butcher block counters and a slightly distressed medium-toned island, there is an overall cozy feeling to it.

The deep, rich countertops are full of nicks and scratches. I run my hand over the grooves. “You cook?”

“I do,” he confirms. “Ready to continue?”

Mathias walks in with a troubled expression on his face and stops between the two of us.

“Jamison needs me to bring our surveillance footage to the council’s headquarters.

They claim it’s to see the faces of our enemy, but I suspect they want to confirm you didn’t use any magic during the attack. ” His dark gaze falls on me.

They’re trying to figure out which supernatural race I belong to. “But I kind of did.” When he looks confused, I motion to the laptop in his hand. “Can you bring up the attack?”

He sets it down on the coffee table and pulls up the video. “Is there a certain part?”

“I assume you had cameras in my bedroom?” I ask. I can’t help the irritated glare that crosses my face when I think about him watching, but I shove it down and take a seat beside him on the couch.

His blank expression says nothing, but I can see the glint in his eyes. “Yes.”

His fingers move rapidly on the keyboard. “This is the camera you want.”

I peer at the screen and see myself sleeping peacefully. I squirm a little but continue watching. Suddenly, I go from sleeping to sitting up in the blink of an eye.

“Did you hear them enter?” Gatlin asks gruffly.

“Bad dreams,” I reply, a blush creeping across my cheeks.

“I’ve got plenty of those,” Gatlin mutters in return.

A warm fuzzy feeling wraps around me at his attempt to make me feel less embarrassed. I reach over and hit fast forward until I see me dash back into the bedroom with the soldier following, my sudden halt, my back arching, and then me dropping to the ground. Thank the goddess, there is no sound.

Gatlin presses stop. “What the fuck?”

“Taser,” I tell him, brushing his finger off the keyboard. I press fast forward again, but Gatlin stops it and presses play to watch the fight.

He hums when I snatch the book up from the nightstand to defend myself against the knife, which turns into a grunt when I clock the guy with my superman cross. “Nice move.”

Rolling my eyes, I point to the screen. “It’s coming up.” The video plays for the next few minutes, showing the three other soldiers entering, and then it leads into me touching the soldier and him choking to death. I stop the video. “There.”

Before Gatlin can reach out again, Mathias pushes his hand away and takes over. He rewinds the scene and plays it again and again. “I don’t get it. I don’t see any magic. Did you poison him?”

I look from Mathias’ obsidian eyes to Gatlin’s golden ones. “No, I used a curse on him.” Sucking in my bottom lip, I wait for them to catch up.

Gatlin whistles, but Mathias tilts his head, a puzzled expression in his eyes. “I don’t sense magic in you. How did you curse him?”

“Technically, it’s not my magic. When I remove a curse from an object, I sort of absorb it and it temporarily becomes mine to use,” I explain, watching his expression.

“Temporarily?” he asks sharply.

“I can only use it once,” I hesitantly tell him.

I’ve never told anyone about what I can do. I’m not sure if the gods know. They’re obviously aware of my ability to change or remove a curse from an object, because they gave me those powers but not this one. This evolved over time.

Mathias asks where this curse came from, and I tell him about the fifteenth-century strand of pearls. His eyes widen, but he suddenly becomes angry. “Why did you only use this ability once during the attack? Why not hit them with more curses?”

Feeling vulnerable, I lift a shoulder. “My access to them is sort of…limited.” I’d rather he think my power is inconsistent than tell him it weakens me to use it. “Which is why I developed one hell of a right cross.” I wink at Gatlin, but he’s back to scowling at me.

Rolling my eyes, I point to the screen. “What do you think the council will do when they see this?” My brow puckers. The last thing I need is for them to change my status from suspect to threat.

Mathias stares at me. “Anything unknown becomes a threat. If they can’t identify or control you, they’ll try to eliminate you.

Gatlin curses and starts pacing around the room. “Fix it.”

Mathias throws him a fierce glare. “I plan to. Give me a second.” His fingers tap lightly on the keyboard as he thinks about the situation.

“I might have something that could work.” His fingers fly across the board, faster than I can comprehend, until they’re nothing but a blur.

He slides through his files, opening the ones he wants, extracting and copying, then he closes them.

This continues for at least thirty minutes.

Gatlin continues to silently pace, his gaze flicking between me and Mathias.

Mathias stops and holds up a finger. Gatlin moves behind us to watch. I lean forward, eager to see what he did.

Mathias presses play, and I watch the entire thing again.

My brow furrows. “I don’t see anything different.”

“Look closer,” he tells me.

This time, I watch it frame by frame. There. “I touch his neck?”

“Actually, your ring touches his neck,” he says with a slow smile. When neither Gatlin nor I says anything, he heaves a sigh. “Your ring, full of poison, touches his neck.”

Ohhh. I play it again. This time, I can see the flash of gold on the dark screen. Clever. “Where did you get the footage?”

“We have tons of surveillance from various jobs,” he reveals. “I simply spliced a few seconds from one video and pasted it into this one.” He plays it one more time, examining each frame, then with a nod, he snaps the lid shut. “This will work.”

I hope so, or this is going to get ugly pretty fast. “So, what’s next?”

Mathias stands. “I’ll take this to the council and show them that you didn’t use magic.

Right now, they suspect you’re a shifter or hybrid.

” He stares at me. “That was what we put in our first reports. Anyway, they only see those who can wield magic as a threat. If they think you don’t have any, they’ll dismiss you. ”

“Thank you,” I tell him, placing my hand on his arm. “It means a lot that you would protect me.”

He looks down at my hand with an unreadable expression. “Jamison vouched for you. If the council thinks you’re a threat, they might start to wonder why he covered for you and whether his loyalty to them has changed.”

His matter-of-fact explanation sends chills down my spine and drives the point home. Whether we like it or not, we’re all tied together now.