Page 27

Once we were on the road, Owen wasted no time. “I talked with my parents last night about Schuyler. Mom said the black streaks in her aura showed up months ago. Some people have stopped going, opting to buy online instead. Mom and her friends take turns, one going and buying for the group. I guess someone asked Schuyler about it when the first black streak appeared. She said she was working through a complicated spell she’d found in an ancient grimoire. Mom heard that Schuyler herself had been shocked the black was there and unsure how she’d earned it. As time has passed, though, and the black spread, fewer people believe it was accidental.”

“That’s disturbing but not terribly helpful.” Couldn’t someone snatch that grimoire and find out what she’s been up to?

“Pretty much what I said to my folks.” He turned down a tree-lined road, mansions diminishing in size. “Oh! And I asked her about you. She said there’s been talk about you for years. A small but certain group—of which my Mom is a member—has always believed that you carried wicche blood. Helena won’t talk about you, but just the fact that you were living with her when you first arrived had them all buzzing.”

Pausing at a stop sign, Owen glanced over at me. “Mom says you bear a striking resemblance to the Corey wicches.”

I grabbed Owen’s arm. “My Mom was Bridget Corey.”

Owen shook his head. “She’s always right. Hang on a minute.” He tapped his phone, and the sound of ringing filled the car.

“Hello, Honey. Your father and I were just talking. When are you bringing George home for dinner?”

“Soon. I promise. Mom, I have Sam here with me, and she says her mother was Bridget Corey.”

“I knew it!”

“Yes, we’re all very impressed.” Owen rolled his eyes at me, but the love and affection he had for his mother shone through.

“Hello, Mrs. Wong. I don’t know if Owen already passed this along, but thank you for the dumplings you sent last week. They were amazing.” Owen’s mom had a soft spot for me, always sending me little Chinese treats through her son.

“No, no. They were a little gummy. Not my best.”

“Best in the city, Mrs. Wong. Hands down.”

“Thank you, dear.” The pride was clear in her voice and it warmed my heart.

“Can you tell Sam what you know about the Coreys, Mom?”

“I wish I could tell you more, but there isn’t much known. The Coreys are a very old magical family, but one that keeps to itself. There have been rumors for centuries, but no one really knows—”

“Rumors about what, Mom?” Owen stopped as a chain of small children, all holding hands, crossed the street. Two adults bookended them.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to say anything that might… No one really knows, you see?”

“Spit it out.”

“Dear, I wouldn’t want you to believe anything bad about your family, and certainly not your mother… It’s just…”

“You’re killing us, Mom.”

“Stop, Owen. This is serious. I wished you’d brought Samantha here instead of making me do this on speakerphone. Okay, there have been rumors for centuries, as I’ve said, that the Coreys embrace both light and dark magic. The wicches who practice white magic have been killed horribly—rumored again—by family members practicing the black arts. I never met your mother, dear, but if she was a close friend of Helena’s, then I’m sure she was a good woman.”

“Oh.” I came not only from a family of wicches, but a family of homicidal black wicches? Figures.

“Now, you said your mother was Bridget, right?”

“Yes.”

“I believe Bridget had a younger sister. I try my best to listen to the whispers on the wind, but I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a name. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure there were any Coreys this generation. They could easily have killed themselves off. I can’t stress enough how secretive and hidden they are. I’ll see what I can see, though. I have my ways.”

“I know you do. Thanks, Mom. We really appreciate it. Someone has been fu—screwing with Sam, trapping her in visions, trying to kill her. We think it’s a black wicche or a sorcerer, maybe even a demon. Any info you can give us would help us keep Sam safe, okay?”

The line was silent.

“Mom?”

“Oh, dear. I wish you’d told me this sooner. This could be it, the Corey Curse.”

My family had a curse named after it? Of course, it did.

Owen slid me a panicked look. “Um, what are you talking about? What’s the Corey Curse?”

“Haven’t I been telling you? Coreys die in strange and horrible ways. Brother, sister, parent, child…they kill each other off. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say there are sorcerers among the black wicches.”

“So…you think it’s a relative who’s trying to kill me?” I didn’t remember anyone on my Mom’s side of the family. Which was, I suppose, proof Mrs. Wong was right. Someone had stolen memories of my Mom and my childhood. Who could or would do that if not someone close to her?

“I’m sorry, dear. I have no idea, but it seems like a possibility.”

“Okay, Mom, thanks.” Owen eyed me. “I just pulled up to work. If you think of anything else, let me know.” He turned off the engine and squeezed my hand.

Owen and I opened The Slaughtered Lamb. Grim, my grumpy dwarf regular, was waiting at the top of the stairs, none too happy with me. The first thing I did, though, was pour a mug of mead and slide it in front of his stool, telling him it was on the house. He grumbled less.

Once Grim was as content as he got, I went into the kitchen to pull glasses from the dishwasher. Owen followed me.

“Changing gears, we haven’t talked about the blood-sucking elephant in the room.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, waiting.

I ignored him and kept unloading.

“New clothes?”

I shrugged.

“As I’ve had the misfortune to view the entirety of your wardrobe, I can confirm that these are new clothes, ones that actually fit you.”

And then Owen was next to me, nudging me out of the way so he could help. “Come on, give. What’s going on with you two?”

“Heck if I know.” I let him take over and hopped up on the counter.

“The sweater is nice.” He brushed a hand down my arm. “Soft. It matches your eyes.”

Oh, I guess that was why it was the same shade as the pajamas. Huh.

“Did you sleep with him?” He was being careful with me.

“Sleep, yes.” I was being an idiot. Talking about it made it real, and I wasn’t sure I could handle real.

“Okay, let’s back up and start again. Are you attracted to him?”

I nodded. At his raised eyebrows, I elaborated. “Yes. Very much so.”

“Good.” He grinned. “Does he feel the same about you?”

“Yes.”

“No hesitation. I like that. It means he’s made it clear to you.” He studied me a moment and then just shook his head. “How old are you, Sam?”

I tucked my hands under my thighs, against the counter. “Twenty-four. Why?”

He pried one of my hands out and held it in both of his. “Have you ever had sex?”

“P’sh, of course.” I tried to pull my hand back, but he held firm.

He softened his voice, “I’m not talking against your will, Sam. Have you ever engaged in consensual sex?”

“Why?”

“And there’s my answer.”

I pulled again, but he was surprisingly strong for a wicche.

“So, I would guess that you’re pretty nervous, maybe even worried that you’ll freeze up, or disappoint Clive?”

My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. I shook my head, looking away from him.

“Sam, honey, we all worry about stuff like that.”

I turned and breathed deeply. No lie. He meant what he said. I cleared my throat, “You do?”

“Of course. In fact, I will bet you a large sum of money that Clive, who’s older than all of us put together, is nervous about being with you.”

I searched his face for the truth. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “The most important thing to remember is to relax. Clive cares for you. Don’t hide from him. Don’t worry about your stupid scars. He’s a freaking vampire who’s hundreds of years old. He’s seen it all. A few scars? That’s nothing.”

Shit.“That’s true. He has seen and done it all. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m going to bore and annoy him.”

Owen threw up his hands. “How did you get that from what I just said?” He took a deep breath. “Clive cares about you. You, Sam, just you. Get out of your own head and enjoy it, okay?”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Nope, not easy, but so very worth it.” He reached for the clean glasses, but before he could pick them up, I pulled him into a hug.

“Sam Quinn willingly hugging someone?” He squeezed me. “You’ll be okay. I promise.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Okay, let’s get back to work before we piss off Grim again.”

The afternoon dragged by. Tonight was the full moon, and I was itching to shift. I kept reaching for the new necklace, assuring myself it was there. Late in the afternoon, the bar phone rang.

“Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar, this is Sam.”

“I missed you when I woke up.”

Earthquakes and tsunamis collided in my belly.

“I’m told you were given your new necklace. Are you wearing it?”

“Yep. It’s too beautiful, though. I feel weird wearing something so fancy every day.” Although, I couldn’t stop myself from touching it as I said it. “Do you know the kind of spells Coco put on it?”

“Yes. I asked her to spell it so that your mind was your own. There shouldn’t be any more visions.”

I breathed out slowly. “Thank you. How much do I owe her?” Because this thing must have cost a fortune. I wondered if she was okay with a payment plan.

“Coco has already been compensated for her work.”

“Clive.”

“Sam.”

A silence stretched as I attempted to see both sides. “Okay. You’re right that I don’t have the money to pay for a necklace like this, but I’d like the price to be added to my Slaughtered Lamb bill, so I can pay you back over time.”

“I could do that, but it brings me joy to do for you. Yes, I’m perfectly aware you can do for yourself. There is precious little joy in my life, though. Please allow me these small kindnesses as they brighten my day immeasurably.”

“That was very trickily done.” Now, if I say no to gifts, I’m stealing his joy. “Manipulative bastard, that’s what you are.”

“You mean that in a good way, yes?”

“I’m very conflicted about all this stuff you’ve given me.”

“I understand. I, myself, am less so.”

Sighing, I put it away. After all, I loved the sweater, and the jeans fit perfectly. I hadn’t realized how often I must have pulled up my pants until I didn’t need to do it anymore.

“I hope the sigh means that you have resigned yourself to my attention, at least for now.”

“Looks like.” The bar was starting to fill, and as the sun was going down, the itch under my skin became more pronounced. Soon, I would run as a wolf.

“Good. New topic. I know you need to run tonight and that you have your new protection, but I’d like to accompany you. The necklace hasn’t been tested, and there is still a threat aimed at you.”

Good point. “It’s just—well, I’m not used to anyone seeing me as a wolf, especially not someone who knows it’s me and not a big dog or a stray coyote.”

“I see. Would it be better or worse for you to know that I have already seen you in your wolf skin?”

“When?”

“Darling, you transform every month. You’ve lived in the city for seven years. I believe most of the magical community has caught sight of you at least once. It’s not as much of a secret to us as it seems to be to you.”

“Oh.” I looked around the bar at all of my customers. Friends, really. They knew but they still came, still chatted with me. They’d accepted me, and I hadn’t even realized it.

“I have one more request, and it’s a rather large one. Remember, though, it is merely a request. I care for you, quite deeply. Neither answer is wrong.”

“You’re kind of freaking me out right now.” What kind of request had such a big build-up?

There was a soft chuckle over the line. “I suppose I’m freaking myself out, as well. It meant a great deal to me to be able to have you in my bed, to hold you while we slept. My request is that I be allowed to stay with you tonight. In your home, as mine has proven to be problematic.”

“Oh.” No other vampires. Just the two of us. And the wolf strong in my blood, helping to quiet the fears that plagued me. “Okay.”