Page 29 of Wicching Hour (The Sea Wicche Chronicles #3)

TWENTY-NINE

Marital Spats Make the Rest of Us Terribly Uncomfortable

S he looked at my father. “Have you touched her skin?”

He shook his head. “Not without blocking, as I assume you just did.”

She nodded. “I think it’s time we see if her gifts work on the fae.” She held out her hands to me. “This experiment is payment for the information you requested.”

I took her hands in mine.

A dark, torchlit passage, deep underground, far from the sun. Footsteps. At the end of the passage is a solid wooden door. There is no knob, no hinge. I walk through the door and am in pitch black. A ball of light appears in my hand and is tossed up in the air, illuminating the small cell. A beautiful man lies on a cot, the back of his hand casually thrown over his eyes, as though the light is disturbing his sleep.

He looks around the side of his hand. “Oh. It’s you. Come to check on me, have you?”

“Why do you do this?” It’s the queen’s voice.

He blows out a breath and sits up, leaning back against the cell’s stone wall. “Must we rehash this all again? It serves no purpose other than to annoy us both.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Did you always hate me?”

He stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankles, tipping his handsome head to watch her under a swoop of glossy reddish-brown hair. “Questioning all of it, are you?” He makes a mocking sad face. “Poor you.” Gesturing around, he adds, “Perhaps we should change places, and you can use your time in this cell to contemplate our marriage. It’s rather peaceful down here. Quiet.”

“Did you?” she asks again.

He brushes his hair off his face. “Did I? Always hate you? Hmm, that’s a tough one.” He taps a finger to his lips, every gesture, every word seemingly intended to mock and belittle. “One could argue that you never respected me.”

The queen crosses her arms, seething. “Your fragile ego being soothed is more important than Faerie, than my ability to rule? Would you have me abandon my responsibility, my people, to placate your need to preen and playact power you don’t possess?” She shakes her head, not wanting to go down that well-worn road again. “Did you ever love me, or has it always been an act?”

His eyelids droop, as though he’s having a hard time staying awake. “Your hurt is tedious. Is it my fault I grew bored almost immediately of being little better than a servant? You never wanted a partner. You want adoration by your side and in your bed. Speaking of which, how is that lapdog guard of yours? I’m sure he worships you the way you enjoy.”

“You started flaunting other women—no. We’re not doing that.” She stopped and took a breath. “Can’t you hate me in peace from far away? Must you recruit my own people to plot the destruction of Faerie and everyone in it?”

He scoffed. “ Your people. Is everything yours then? The entire realm is yours and we’re only here because you allow us to be? Don’t you think it more likely that this realm is filled with a magic that birthed us all and that you, a delusional megalomaniac, have decided that you are our queen? How marvelous for you.”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t suppose that it’s because you are the oldest of us and have absorbed the most magic from this realm? You honestly believe this world would cease to exist without you?” He shakes his head. “You’re exhausting. Have you noticed that when you visit other realms, nothing bad happens here? It’s almost as if we don’t need you.”

“I created this realm,” she shouts, angry sparks ricocheting around the cell.

“And yet you can’t destroy me,” he says with a smirk. “What does that tell you?”

The queen dropped my hands and stepped back. I blinked through the disorientation that comes from moving from a marital fight in a dungeon to a well-appointed undersea cavern.

“Impressive,” she said, but I wasn’t sure if she meant it. She sounded irritated. Perhaps, though, her anger in the memory was bleeding over to the present.

She shook her head. “I’m not irritated with you , child. That wasn’t what I’d intended to share with you—assuming you were able to see anything.”

Dad’s hand landed possessively on my shoulder. “She meant no disrespect, my lady.”

Her chin went up. The colors swirling in her eyes intensified. After a charged moment, she blinked and they were the sparkling lavender of the elf’s. “Relax, Manannán mac Lir. Your child is safe with me.” A piece of paper appeared in her hand. “My scout found two locations he believes are possibly the home of your sorcerer.” She handed me the slip of paper.

Turning back to my father, she said, “I expect updates on her progress.” Her gaze fell on me again. Reaching out, she picked up one of my long curls. Her mouth tipped up. “Such a rare and wonderful gift is a child.” Her eyes flicked down. “She has your hair and the shape of your eyes. Send her back the easy way so that note in her hand doesn’t get wet.”

And she was gone.

Trembling, I opened the note she’d given me. It was a tiny, near perfect map of the Monterey Bay with two dots in red along the coastline. This was gold.

Dad looked over my shoulder.

It’s a double-edged sword. Dad’s voice was in my head. When the queen takes an interest in you, incredible things can happen. Unfortunately, horrendous things can as well. Were it up to me, she’d never know of your existence. I don’t want you caught between the queen and king, losing your life because they can’t kill one another .

A chill ran down my spine.

“I know we offered you refreshments,” he said out loud, “but it’s getting late, and you need your sleep.” If I learn anything more that can help your sorcerer problem, I’ll let you know. “I’ll visit in a few days, and we can begin our lessons.”

“Tha—”

He put a finger over my mouth and shook his head. “Never thank the fae.” Leaning down, he kissed my forehead. My vision went dark, my stomach dropped, and I was standing back on my deck. After a long moment, I felt steady enough to go in. My jacket and phone were on my worktable. I checked the time. It was after midnight.

Mom and Dad were right. I needed sleep, and though I was exhausted, my brain was racing and I was starving. I heated up a French bread pizza and ate it standing over the sink, my mind on the world down below. When I finished, I headed to my supply closets for a canvas. I needed to paint.

As I pulled out a large canvas, though, I stopped. Declan had once mentioned my painting the raccoon siblings and I’d had the idea of someday making ink drawings incorporating watercolors as a nursery collection. It had been a maybe-someday idea but tonight it felt right.

Ideas raced through my brain. I’d do a set of four tonight. Using watercolor paper, I began filling the white with blues, greens, and indigos as a background base. Once I was done with the fourth, the first was dry enough to begin the line drawings.

I had a set of gorgeous ink pens, the tips more like delicate brushes than hard nibs. As I worked on the first one—the blue whale and her calf—I remembered how much I loved this medium. Lost in the memories of my adventure, I worked far later than I’d intended.

The sun was rising when I stumbled to the couch and fell face-first into sleep.

Auntie Abigail walks around nasty Aunt Sybil’s sunroom, checking on the cousins’ progress with glamour spells. Colin is the best at it, so far, though my stupid sister Serena is good too. I guess. Pearl is embarrassing, as always. She can’t even change her eye color. Colin can make himself look like a movie star.

“You’re doing really well, Calliope,” Aunt Abigail says, rubbing my shoulder. She crouches down, staring into my eyes, and whispers, “You’re the best. Others might have mastered one skill, but you’re good at many skills. You just need the right training to find your power.”

“Really?” I whisper back. No one has ever told me I was good at magic. My stupid mother always says I’ll grow into it soon.

Aunt Abigail nods. “I have a friend I study with, and he told me to pay close attention to you. He thinks you can be one of the best.”

“Who is it?” I ask in awe. Finally! Someone else sees it too. I just know I’m destined to rule the Corey Council. And won’t they be sorry for all the pats on the head and the laughs at my mistakes. I’ll make sure they’re sorry. I hope she’s not talking about Daddy, though. He’s a healer and he already checked. I have no healing skills.

“You’ll meet him soon and he’ll help you find your power,” she tells me.

I give her my best puppy eyes and a hug. The aunts and uncles all think I’m a little doll, so I use it whenever I can. I may not be able to do all the spells stupid Serena can, but she still gets yelled at when I screw up. How could she have let poor little me handle that problem all by myself? It’s hard not to laugh when she gets yelled at for something I did.

I whisper in Aunt Abigail’s ear, “Will I be as powerful as Arwyn?”

She scoffs. “She’s a freak, little one. An abomination. She’s not even a true Corey wicche. No one knows who her father is. We’re not even allowed to ask,” she whispers with an eye roll. “I’m sure he’s strong, but I doubt he’s a wicche. Have you noticed those scales on her leg?”

I nod my head, eyes wide. “Is her daddy a snake?”

Aunt Abigail laughs. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Don’t worry about her. It’s pure-blooded wicches who have the real power. I’ll talk to Gran and Sylvia, see if I can begin private tutoring sessions with you.”

I hug her again and mean it this time. “I knew I was special.”

Knocking startled me awake, but I was okay with that. I had no desire to spend more time with Abigail and Cal. They worked with demons, but I was the abomination. Yeah, okay.

I reached for my phone to see the time. Too early. More knocking. Ugh. Flicking my fingers, I opened the shutters and then was blinking against the sudden light.

I dragged myself to my feet and went to the door. Osso stared in the window, trying to see me. As my windows were spelled against snoops, he was out of luck. When I reached for the door, he relaxed. He might not have been able to see me, but he could hear me.

“Good morning, detective,” I said, trying my best to sound well-rested and alert.

“You look like hell,” he grumbled as he walked by me. “No sleep?”

“Always the charmer, aren’t you? And I was sleeping before you so rudely woke me up.”

He glanced around at the worktable and the couch. “You’re the one who wanted me to stop by before work.” When I stared at him blankly, he added, “Poison.”

“Oh, shit. That’s right. It’s been a long night.” I’d meant to copy the camera footage into a folder for him before he arrived.

Osso turned back toward the deck. “Sounds like Declan.”

A moment later, Declan strode into view. He raised a hand to knock, but I called out, “Come in.”

When I met him at the door, he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me into the air so he could kiss me more easily. Declan’s kisses were magical.

When we broke apart, he looked over my shoulder. “Did you know that Osso was raiding your honey jars?”

Squawking, I made Declan put me down. “What the hell?”

“What do you mean what the hell ?” Osso grumbled, eating a heaping spoonful of honey. “You call me at home last night. You ask me to see you this morning, and then you’re oversleeping and making out. Why do I have to be here for this?” He put the spoon back in for more honey.

“You did that on purpose! You knew you were contaminating the honey and that I’d end up giving you the jar. Well.” I flicked my fingers, and the jar disappeared. “Now no one gets honey.”

The bear’s growl was deep and very loud.

Declan moved in behind me and wrapped his arms around me. “You should probably give him back his honey.”

“It’s my honey.” When Osso’s growl got louder, I flicked my fingers and returned it, mumbling, “Big baby.”

Holding the returned jar closer to his chest, he eyed me warily. Finally, he pulled out his phone, hit the voice memo app, tapped record, and placed it on the coffee table. “Start at the beginning and tell me what’s been going on with this guy.”

So I did. I had to leave some magical things out of the official report, but when I did, I wiggled my fingers so he’d know there was more to the story. After that, I launched into the story of my stalker. When I got to the podcast and last night’s spy camera, Declan’s grip on me tightened.

Osso paced around the room as I spoke, finally stopping as the story wound down. Tapping his phone, he closed the app and returned his phone to his pocket. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “Now tell me all the parts you left out.”

I grabbed my laptop, sat back down on the couch with Declan, and filled in the magical bits while I hunted up footage of the stalker and the poisoner for him.

“An octopus?” he asked, shaking his head. “An octopus took out the camera?”

It took me a moment to realize the rumbling sound I was hearing was Declan growling, low and mostly to himself. I patted his knee. “I’m okay.”

“No,” he said. “You’re not. You’re going to have to start coming up to Big Sur with me. I can’t leave you here all by yourself.”

“You’re not leaving me” I said. “This is my home. I’m perfectly safe and can handle whatever gets thrown at me. I’m just trying to do that within the legal bounds of human society.”

When Declan started to argue, Osso growled, “Fight about it later. Do you still have the poisoned food in your truck?”

Jaw clenched, Declan nodded.

“Can you get it for me?” Osso asked, pulling out his notebook.

Reluctantly, Declan got up and left, his boots heavy on the deck as he went to his truck.

Osso sat on the coffee table beside me and lowered his voice. “He’s exhausted, trying to look after the pack and you, whether you need it or not,” he said, holding up a hand to placate me. “I get it. You’re a bad bitch, but he loves you. If you didn’t want a protective boyfriend, you shouldn’t have started dating a wolf.”

There was that word again. “He doesn’t love me,” I whispered back.

Rolling his eyes, he moved to my worktable and sat down. “Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better.”