Page 51 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

FUCK, I THINK I’M THE HERO

Maggie

The hot water felt amazing, even though it was a stinging reminder that I was a human full of flaws, including the ability to be swept up in a moment if I thought someone actually wanted me. It washed away any evidence of the mishap, but it couldn’t touch the bruises on my neck—or my pride.

God, what was I thinking?

Under normal circumstances, the precautions I’d take to avoid a UTI after sex were pretty simple. But these were not normal circumstances.

These were?—

were—

Fuck— I didn’t even know what these were.

I pissed directly into the shower, hoping it was an ounce of prevention, but was that going to be enough? Could one get a UTI from demon jizz? If so, would it even be a normal UTI or some souped-up infection from the god of the underworld?

Goddamn it!

Was my magical birth control even a match for supernatural semen?

Shit. Shit! SHIIIIIIIT!

I wanted to ride a pressure washer filled with bleach and holy water while a priest blessed my cooter with health and vitality.

But even that might not be enough.

With my luck, the mix of magical DNA, and priestly intervention would cause my vagina to grow vocal cords and start spouting Gregorian chants as a way of warding off any other demonic dicks interested in an unexperienced witch’s pussy.

The steam billowed up and over the shower door as I scrubbed my fingernails against my skin using far too much soap and friction to be safe, but I didn’t care—my pH would be fucked, anyway.

Had it been Graham, I would have loved every drop. Maybe even begged for him to come on my tits or tongue, but this was fucking ectoplasm! And there was just so much! What the hell does that do to a person?!

I lathered, rinsed, and repeated until I thought my skin would peel from my bones, then I did it again. Naturally , the hot water ran out before I could start another round of scrubbing Satan from my pores, so I dreadfully exited the shower and wrapped myself in my poofy white towel.

Chester curled himself at the base of my pillow on my bed, completely oblivious to the wreckage that just ensued.

“That looks like a really good idea, little man.” I said as I slid in next to him, running my fingers through his fur. I pulled him in tight and curled into the fetal position.

My phone rang.

It was Mom.

Declined.

A few moments later, it blew up with text notifications.

Mom:

I JUST SPOKE TO JEREMIAH.

HE SAYS THIS… HECKAYTAY PERSON YOU REFERRED TO IN OUR LAST CONVERSATION IS A SATANIC GODDESS!

WHAT ARE YOU INTO, MAGDALENE?

CALL ME.

WE ARE HAVING A DISCUSSION ABOUT THIS.

Yes, because listening to you tell me how I’m making all the wrong choices for my life was something I couldn’t wait to do.

I fought the urge to tell her about Graham’s possession. And our little soiree in the attic. It would only piss her off more.

Fuck it.

I texted back.

It’s Hecate.

Sorry can’t talk now. Busy douching from the excessive amounts of demon sperm my new boyfriend just inseminated me with.

I knew she hit the floor with that one.

I set my phone to silent and tossed it under my pillow.

In that moment, all I could do was lie there with tears welling while I tried to calm myself.

After all this, my brain was now hardwired for fear. There was still someone supposedly out to get to me, and the only one actually able to do anything about it was knocked out in the attic with a fucking demon—or whatever—possessing him.

“I’m screwed.” I said, bringing my finger under Chester’s chin.

“How can you say that?” Uncle Silas’s voice pierced my ears from the hallway. “You have complete strangers halting their lives to protect you, young lady.” His voice grew closer.

I jumped up and plucked my robe off the hook, quickly wrapping it around myself, my hair still dripping, hanging heavy from my scalp, tangled like seaweed.

Uncle Silas appeared, translucent as vellum.

His appearance bewildered me. He too was wearing a robe, more of a long smoking robe, but still a robe.

The resemblance to the portrait Portia had painted of him was uncanny: the same white mustache curled at the tips, the stern expression etched in his brows, and the gaze in his eyes that made you feel like he was capable of stealing your soul.

“Your friends may not make an official arrest, but from the looks of it—they’d kill for you.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “They are strangers, remember?”

“Heavens, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Uncle Silas sat on the edge of the bed and ran a finger down Chester’s spine, causing his fur to stand straight up and wake him with a jolt.

Chester recoiled and dove between the pillows, hissing and sputtering at him with every step back he took.

“I mean… look at you, ” I crossed my arms. “…even you are a complete stranger to me.”

Uncle Silas narrowed his eyes. “Well, my dear, whether you choose to believe it or not, that was not my fault.”

He pressed his lips together and stood. The swirling green fog surrounding him made it hard to tell if his bare feet were planted on the floor or if he was hovering just above.

“Your mother abandoned this family when she learned of her pregnancy?—”

“I thought you had a falling out with Mom’s grandma.”

“Yes, but any good family deserves a little drama,” he chuckled. “Besides, that spat only lasted a few days. It wasn’t my fault she up and got herself killed.”

“I thought Great-Grandma Gigi died of heart failure.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“Yes.”

Uncle Silas appeared visibly distressed.

“She said they knew for years that her heart was weak, and it was your spat that killed her.”

“Of course she did.” He paced the room, his brows knitted tightly together. “Your great-grandmother—my mother—died from a blow to the chest by a vampire’s bride with a bad attitude.”

My breath caught, and I tilted an ear to him, “I beg your pardon?”

“I was there with her,” he glanced my way, his expression devoid of any emotion, “attempting to negotiate safe feeding arrangements for his family. I made a silly comment about how if they’d spend more time hunting—than they did sulking—they’d have an overstock of blood in their pantry.”

I lowered myself onto the arm of the chair by the closet and stared into oblivion. Could I even trust him? Instead of giving us answers, he gave us a possession.

“His wife lunged at me, but Mother leapt in front of me—just in time. She and the bride collided. But as you well know, a confrontation between a human and a famished vampire rarely ends well—unless, of course, you happen to belong to the illustrious Helsing family!”

My mouth went dry at the thought of the sweet old lady from the photo albums in a duel with a hungry vamp.

Should I run or laugh?

My heart picked up speed as the story went on. The edges of reality fading like his story unfolded in front of me. I knew witchcraft was real—I mean, look at my love life—but I didn’t dream of a world where vampires were an actual thing.

But who could blame me, to my knowledge, witchcraft only worked on love spells and money bowls.

I puffed my cheeks, letting out a slow, decompressing breath.

This was my life now.

Witches, demons, ghosts, and vampires.

“I can do this… I can do this…” I told myself.

Who the fuck was I kidding?

“Did you hear me, Maggie?” Uncle Silas placed a translucent hand on my shoulder, feeling more like a cold breeze than an actual touch.

“Sorry. No.”

“Your mother… she packed her bags and whisked off to Ohio with your father as soon as she learned they were expecting your brother. Spouting something about devil worship and the mark of Satan. I can’t quite remember, but I know she was quite determined to shield him from this world.

Truth be told, I don’t think it was the right way to go about it.

You can’t shelter a child and expect perfect obedience for the sake of religion. ”

I scoffed. “Tell that to her .”

“Well, dear, I am quite pleased that you’ve embraced your inheritance and are finally accepting your gifts. Quite a commendable choice, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, well… Mom wants me to sell it. She says I’m not cut out for managing an estate this size—or a life like this. I’m beginning to think she might be right.”

“Maggie, I’m shocked!” Uncle Silas snapped, “Don’t you realize how invaluable your help is going to be?”

My head snapped back, “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not much help from me going on, right now.”

“After this, silly girl,” he chuckled. “After we find who caused all this mess, then you can take my place. Your gifts can help you.”

“What do you mean, take your place ?” My gaze narrowed, “As a P.I.?”

“Precisely!”

“And what gifts? My ability to make anyone I want sleep with me? Yeah, that’s going to really solve some crimes.”

“My dear, don’t be absurd. You are meant for this,” he professed. “You were born with wildfire in your heart. You’re stubborn enough to love someone when it hurts. That’s why you’ll succeed.”

My hands trembled at the thought of doing this every day.

“It’s just… you died. And now you’re here…telling me to go out and protect people?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “It’s amazing Chester’s even still alive. I haven’t fed him in days, but somehow food keeps ending up in his bowl.”

“Maggie, every spell you utter carries with it a lesson. Sometimes they go awry, of course. But on the flip side, there are times when they mend wounds that even time itself cannot heal.”

“What if this life turns me into something I hate?” I buried my face in my hands.

“I used to be surrounded by soft, warm things. Like the bakery, Annie’s sunshiny smile, or maybe a normal fucking Tuesday.

But now every time I shut my eyes, it’s red…

or it’s ghosts, or demons.” I brought my gaze to Uncle Silas, “What if I mess it up and people get hurt? Like Graham?”

He put his arm around me, pulling me into a cold embrace.

“My dear, once we unravel this curious case, you’ll discover just how vital someone like us is to the community. I wasn’t merely a private investigator you know—I was also a witch. Our entire family has quite the magical lineage, in fact.”

“Even Mom?”

“Yes! Of course! When she was young, she’d cast some of the most beautiful spells for those poor souls looking for their worth.”

My stomach sank, and a sudden heated anger flared at my shoulders.

“Would’ve been nice to meet that woman, because she’s not my mother.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“This encouraging woman you speak of? She doesn’t resemble the woman who raised me in the least.” I squeezed my dripping hair out onto the floor, and slipped into the closet, quickly dressing in a hoodie and joggers.

“You know she abandoned anything related to witchcraft—right? She shuns it now. When I was eight, Dad bought me the cutest little purple witch costume. It was more princess than witch, but it didn’t matter.

She burned it and demanded I stay away from the occult or I’ll burn just like that costume. ”

Uncle Silas’s expression turned to disgust.

“What a waste.” he shrugged, shaking his head. “Oh well, let’s not dwell in the past. You are what you make of yourself. No one but you can determine your power, or if you are worthy of it.”

I was grateful for his words, but they only lifted my mood for a moment. I was so tired of having to be strong and shove my fears to the side.

“Why haven’t I been able to lure my true love to me? Once the spell backfires, I’m left with obsessed zombies that can’t do a single thing without me.”

“True love isn’t about obsession, girl. True love isn’t forced. Perhaps you’ve been a tad too harsh on yourself, hiding behind a spell—ultimately shielding yourself from what you desire most.”

“No way! I was engaged. Never used magic on him, but he still cheated the whole time we were together. Look where playing by the rules got me.”

“One time, my dear. One blasted time. What about the other times you didn’t use magic? What happened then?”

My eyes dropped to the floor.

“That was the only time.”

“What?!” he exclaimed, slapping his knee in amusement.

Chester emitted a low, startled growl.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never ventured into the dating world without your magical bag of tricks?”

I shook my head.

“Therein lies your dilemma, Maggie. You must focus on something besides your love life. You will find a fulfillment you’ve never experienced before by solving cases only those like us can. Love will come. It always does. And right when you least expect it.”

I slipped my feet into a pair of slippers and headed for the door.

“We should check on Graham.”

“Exactly, just like that. Just look at how Officer Locke has become smitten with you the moment he laid his eyes on you. You are what is holding him here. I felt it.”

We moved down the hall, Chester following close behind.

“I just don’t want to be alone anymore. That’s the problem.

I want to spend the rest of my days wrapped in the arms of someone who actually gives a damn about me.

Someone who loves me as much as I love them.

Someone who will stay because they want to, not because they were cursed into it.

” I opened the attic door and turned to Uncle Silas.

“Besides, I don’t know the first thing about being a private investigator. ”

“Which is precisely why it will be delightful to have a fresh, young perspective on all the hooligans in town. I daresay you’ll notice things even I became blind to.”

I blinked at him, shoving that overwhelm into the deepest depths of my mind again.

“Who knows, you might manage to crack a few cold cases. Now that would be a splendid turn of events, wouldn’t it?”

The joy on his face made it impossible to ignore the fact that I would soon be letting him down as well. Christ, pleasing family was a nightmare.

“Look. I only know how to have sex, watch birds, glue shit into a journal, and bake. I don’t see any set of sleuthing skills in those activities.” My hands turned upwards in a placating gesture.

“Of course, my dear. In time.” Uncle Silas vanished with a forceful swoosh up the stairs.

My stomach twisted at the weight of it all. He believed I could become some badass witchy investigator like he was. But how in the hell was I supposed to do that when I couldn’t even solve my case without putting the people I cared about in the direct line of fire?

I stood at the foot of the attic stairs, the door still open and my hand gripping the frame like it was the only thing holding me up. The silence left behind was louder than it should’ve been.

Swallowing hard, I wiped the single hot tear that had finally escaped.

This was it.

I exhaled.

No time for a breakdown.

I had to save Graham.