Chapter 23

As I get ready to leave for the meeting with the elusive SarahJ, Minnie almost knowingly awaits me in the hallway. Arms crossed across her chest, she looks at me suspiciously.

Her strand of hair, nestled inside a small vial in my pocket, bores a hole through my clothes as she studies me from head to toe.

“Where are you going?” she demands to know.

“Out. I have business to take care of,” I answer glibly as I pass by her.

I barely take a step before she jumps in front of me, her brows drawn together in a frown.

“You never go out, Marlowe,” she notes. “So where are you going?”

Damn it. Of course she knows my patterns by now and the fact that I rarely go out.

“I have some business to attend to. You may not believe it, but I still work daily.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t ask you to believe me. I just stated the facts.”

She narrows her eyes at me.

“I’m coming with you,” she says after a moment.

“No. You’ll do no such thing. This meeting is with men. A lot of men. I will not have them become obsessed with you. I happen to be recovering from grave injuries, as you recall. I cannot be out there fighting legions of men,” I tell her matter-of-factly.

“I’ll wait in the car.”

“The answer is no, Minnie. I will not be long. You can clean the downstairs bathroom while I’m away.”

I move to leave again, but once more, she stops me.

“That’s it? You’re leaving just like that?” she asks in disbelief. “No more questions about my witchery? Or those creatures you think you saw? Don’t tell me you came to your senses?” She raises a brow.

“Of course I came to my senses. Yesterday was a mere lapse in judgment, and I trust you will forgive me given my incapacitated state?” I smile.

I can tell she wants to pick a fight by the way her upper lip twitches in annoyance. She didn’t think I’d give up so easily on my claims, and although she’ll never admit what happened at the accident site to my face, she’s not above using the topic to stop me from leaving.

Ah, my little heathen. She has no idea how much it pleases me to see her so rattled by my departure. Unfortunately, I do have to go. Otherwise, I would have baited her further with this jealousy she has going on.

It’s a big turn-on, what can I say.

Although… Thinking about it, maybe it’s a good thing I’m leaving. Getting into a heated argument with her will only lead to one outcome—blue balls. And I’ve had enough time to realize she’s dead serious about the no touching before marriage rule.

I sigh.

Alas, a man can dream, since dreams are all I’ll be entertaining until I put that blasted ring on her finger.

“You’re serious?” Her voice is tinged with skepticism as she takes a step forward, getting too close to me.

Damn, Minnie. Can’t you see I’m suffering over here? A mere whiff of her sweet scent and I’m already sweating.

“Can we just forget that? It’s embarrassing. Hear that, creatures and mummies…” I let out a dry laugh.

She stares at me unblinkingly.

Despite her diminutive stature, she can be quite scary.

Scary hot.

Stop it, Marlowe!

It’s not the time to think about how hot she is, or how close, or how good she smells, or how good her lips must taste…

Fucking hell!

I take a step back and clear my throat.

“I’ll be back shortly,” I repeat and move to leave.

To my surprise, she doesn’t stop me again. She’s rooted to the spot, her eyes on me.

When I get to my driveway, a rental car is waiting for me. I let out a sigh of relief when Minnie doesn’t follow me and I plug in the coordinates for the meeting.

It takes me some twenty minutes to get to the meeting location.

To my surprise, it’s a legit office in an old brownstone with a huge logo on top of the building: Sarah Jade Potions.

Interesting.

Perhaps witchcraft is not as rare as I might have previously believed, nor as controversial seeing that this woman is flaunting it publicly.

Alas, we’re not in the seventeenth century for them to warrant persecution.

Parking my car, I go to the main door and ring the bell.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Marlowe Spencer-Astor. We’ve spoken via email.”

A few moments pass before I hear movement on the other side.

Bolts and locks turn, at least five that I can count—odd. Then the door finally opens.

Sarah Jade is a woman in her sixties with white hair and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Initially, she’s all smiles as she greets me. But as she gets a good look at me, a sour expression appears on her face.

“I’m sorry, I cannot help you,” she mutters, ready to close the door in my face.

I slide my foot forward to stop the door from closing.

“Why? You said you’d help me when we talked,” I say slowly, my attention on her to see what’s brought on this sudden change in behavior.

“T-that was before,” she mumbles. “I cannot have you in my home. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about? If this is about money, I’m willing to pay for the consultation. In fact, I’ll pay double.”

She shakes her head.

“I cannot welcome your kind in my home,” she repeats.

“My kind?” I frown.

“You’re too…tainted,” she whispers.

My eyes widen. Can she sense that I have blood on my hands? If that’s so, then she’s remarkably intuitive. That only strengthens my resolve to get her opinion on my dilemma.

“I will not hurt you,” I tell her in the most non-threatening voice I can muster. “I mean no harm. I’m just seeking information. I brought the strand of hair,” I say and remove the vial from my pocket.

She purses her lips.

“I’ll pay triple,” I continue.

She doesn’t budge.

“Four times. This is really important, Mrs. Jade. I wish to know if I’m under any spell.”

“Four times?” She bites her lip.

I nod.

“Wait here,” she mentions.

The wooden floors in her house creak under her heavy steps. I stay where she instructed me, not wanting to cause her any distress that might make her unwilling to help—more than she already is.

A few minutes pass, and she comes back.

She pulls the door wide open, and I note she’s carrying a small bowl in her hands.

Dipping her fingers inside, she wets them in a clear solution. She splashes me with the liquid from head to toe, going around me three times and chanting something in what appears to be Latin.

“You may come in. But you may not stay longer than ten minutes,” she eventually says.

I suppose ten minutes will do.

I follow her inside and she leads me to the back of the house. The entire atmosphere is eerie, if I do say so myself. The scent of incense is strong, almost clogging my nostrils. The hallway is full of antiques, a tall rusty clock, a table that has seen better days, and a bunch of Victorian photographs.

Eerie, as I said.

The deeper I head into the house, though, the more I feel a tightness in my chest—as if something seeks to drive me out.

I take a deep gulp of air and try to focus on my surroundings.

There are shelves of books everywhere. Cracked, leather spines with foreign titles. In the middle of the room there’s a case with a large vellum book inside. It’s half open, and curiosity gets the best of me as I step forward to take a look.

There are colorful illustrations around the edges depicting thorny roses and some odd symbols. The letters have the distinct flourish of the early medieval days. There are two drawings, one on each page, and they both depict an apocalyptic scene. The first one shows seven shadowy figures watching the world burn while skeleton-like beings dance on top of people’s graves. The second one depicts one man. His face is shadowy, but his eyes are a deep purple. He’s standing tall over everyone, his sword ready to cut them down.

“Over here, Mr. Spencer-Astor.” Mrs. Jade clears her throat.

I look over my shoulder to see her watching me intently.

“What’s this?”

“My family’s codex. You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” she adds snappily. “Follow me.”

She continues walking past the library and into a small study. I don’t know what I expected, but there are no magic bowls and the like. Instead, there’s only a desk with a computer and a sofa. Quite normal for a witch—may even be the most normal part of the house.

She takes a seat at the desk and invites me to do the same opposite her.

I do as she says, and to my surprise, instead of asking me to give her the vial, she opens a drawer and removes a deck of tarot cards from it.

“Touch this for me,” she says and hands me the deck.

I lay my hand flat on the top of the deck before she pulls back and starts shuffling. She barely spares me a glance as she places five random cards on the table face down.

She turns the first one.

“Seven of swords. There’s a secret in your past. Something that haunts both you and your family. I see dishonesty.” She frowns. “But it’s not all of your making. There’s an external force.”

I swallow hard.

I didn’t expect her to start with the hard truths.

“Go on,” I say.

“Something isn’t right.” She looks at me pointedly. “It’s something that goes against the natural order.”

Yeah, I suppose I have done plenty of things that go against the natural order.

“Death. Change. Everything you’ve known so far has changed. And it will continue to change.”

When are we going to talk about the spell? I’m getting bored of this vague shit.

The next three cards are The Tower reversed, The Chariot, and The Magician. She doesn’t read them individually. Instead, she just stares at them. Then at me.

“The strand of hair. Hand it to me.”

I hand her the vial, but as she takes out the strand of hair, she drops both on the desk. She pulls back, as if burned.

She gets up, her eyes wild as she looks right and left.

“You need to get out of my house. Now.”

“I need to know if she’s a witch and if I’m under a spell,” I grit out. It’s what I came here for and I’m not going to leave without that knowledge.

“She’s cursed, as are you. The fires of hell would never be enough to cleanse either of you,” she spews at me, the hatred in her voice evident.

“What are you talking about?”

“Leave!” she yells, her voice so high-pitched the entire structure of the house starts to shake.

What the…

She walks toward me, backing me out of the study. Her expression is crazed, and there’s a strange aura surrounding her.

“I’ll give you ten times your fee if you tell me what I came here to find out.”

“Get. Out,” she bellows. This time, a whoosh of air hits me in the chest. It’s not enough to hurt, but it’s enough that I feel it.

Sarah’s eyes have turned a shade of white as she glares at me with burning hatred.

I back away, continuing to make her offers, but she doesn’t even consider them.

“I won’t take your dirty money. You’re an abomination, that’s what you are,” she growls in a thick, almost unnatural voice.

Funny, with that timbre, I’d say she’s the abomination, not me.

Yet I’ve seen how well I fare in the face of magic, so I decide to cut my losses. She’s not going to answer any of my questions. But before I can leave, I quickly dash back to the study and grab the strand of hair. Even I know better than to trust a witch with something like this.

Sarah doesn’t seem to take my short detour very well, and before I know it, books fly off the shelves as a strong gust of wind accumulates inside the house. It gathers up in the shape of a vortex, and it’s aimed right at me.

Oh, fuck.

I duck just as a heavy book is about to hit me in the head.

“Get. Out!” Sarah continues to shout.

With tens of books flying off the shelves and aimed at me, I do my best to dodge them as I run for the exit.

Just my luck, though, as I reach the door, I note that there are a bunch of locks in place.

I start to unlock each of them, but the books keep flying toward my head, the intent to do me harm clear.

They knock against the wooden door with a thud, and I move right and left to avoid being the target.

Sarah comes into view, her hair standing up as if electrified. She glares at me as she does some movements with her hands. A ball of energy emerges from her palms, and I barely manage to pull the last latch and open the door before she decides to throw the blow my way.

But if that’s not plenty of surprises for the day, as soon as I open the door, I come face to face with Minnie.

Her expression is dry as she stares at Sarah.

“Business?” She raises a brow as she looks at me.

“Not anymore,” I mutter as I take her hand. I try to pull her away, but she won’t budge.

Sarah chases after me, but as she sees Minnie, she stops in her tracks.

Minnie glares at her.

“She’s crazy,” I whisper. “We need to leave. Now.”

“This is my man,” Minnie states pointedly.

Sarah takes a step back.

Her hair is back to normal, and her eyes slowly return to their original shade.

She squares her shoulders and cowers back, her expression now one of fear.

“I apologize,” she murmurs subserviently.

What the fuck?

“Please forgive me,” Sarah continues, her knees bending until they hit the ground. She bows in front of Minnie, hitting her forehead against the wooden floor in a kowtow.

Double what the fuck!

At the same time, I have to admit that Minnie claiming me as her man is hot as fuck. Although now’s not the time to be horny. A witch just tried to kill me and my almost lover seems to be a psycho stalker.

Hot. My stalker, that is. Not almost being killed by a witch. That kind of sucks.

Minnie nods at her before finally allowing me to draw her away from the house.

Sarah immediately rushes to lock the door after us, the sound of the bolts echoing in the air.

We don’t speak until we reach the car, after which I’m compelled to get an explanation out of her.

“How the hell did you follow me here?” I ask when we’re alone.

She gives me a bored look as she points at the back of the car. “I hid in the trunk.”

I stare at her. Then I stare some more.

My ingenious little heathen. I should be outraged. But I would have done the same if I were her so I can’t exactly blame her.

“You hid in my trunk?” I feign outrage.

Good girl, Minnie. Taking care of your man, as you should.

Perhaps I should be slightly disturbed that she would do that, but at this moment all I feel is a strong pang of lust.

Damn, she’s hot.

“Of course,” she quips in a sweet voice. “I wouldn’t be a good girlfriend if I didn’t support you in your business endeavors, right?” She has the gall to bat her lashes at me innocently.

Blood rushes to my cock.

“And you’re the most supportive girlfriend, aren’t you?” I ask wryly.

“Well,” she murmurs as she bites her lip. “Any moment now I’ll be your fiancée, no?”

Another bat of her lashes.

Oh, fuck! She must have thought I went shopping for rings behind her back.

“Right…of course.”

“But really, Marlowe, what were you doing here? That old woman is cray-cray and a fanatic,” she says.

I shrug.

“And how do you know she’s a fanatic?” I raise a brow.

“Because I saw the books inside her house. They were all manuals on demon hunting.”

“Demon hunting?” I raise a brow.

“People like her assume anyone with abilities is a demon when that’s the furthest from the truth. But it is what the human church has indoctrinated its followers to believe. It’s all the fault of that Vatican,” she mutters under her breath.

That’s surprising. And perhaps the first real piece of information Minnie has willingly given me.

“And what is the truth?” I inquire.

She smiles.

“There are a lot of beings in this universe that have powers, Marlowe. But it is wrong to assume they’re all bad. Certainly, some are. But not all.”

“What about you then? Are you good or bad, Minnie?”

I already know she has powers. She’s aware I know, too. We’re just pretending that’s not the case because she’s not ready to tell me yet.

If I were a better man, perhaps I’d wait until she’s comfortable telling me.

But I’m not.

I’m a greedy bastard who needs to know everything there is about her. And if she’s not yet forthcoming… Then my quest is not over yet.

“Oh, Marlowe.” She chuckles. “Depending on who you ask, I’m perhaps the baddest.”

“Worst,” I correct.

“Baddest,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I’m so bad, I need to add four more letters to the word to emphasize how bad I am.”

I raise a brow at her. But then I laugh when I realize she’s joking.

We both laugh until she suddenly stops. She shakes her head and sighs.

“I didn’t put a spell on you, all right? I was actually surprised when you didn’t find me irresistible from the first time you saw me. It was…refreshing.” She smiles. But then she leans forward, her eyes on mine. “If you find me irresistible now, it’s all on you. There’s nothing supernatural about it. You want me.”

“Is that so?” I croak.

“You want me,” she repeats. “You said so yourself. Even if you claim you only want to sleep with me, I suppose that’s all right too. Because I know that deep down, you care for me.”

“You’re that sure, eh?”

“Yes. I’m very sure. It’s why I’ve chosen you to be my bonded male.”

“And here I thought it was my good looks and my money.”

“I suppose those come secondary, as long as you buy me cookies, which you haven’t done in one day. You’re slacking, Marlowe! Soon, people will realize that I’m not a gold plower and my reputation will be destroyed.” She feigns a scandalized expression.

I smile and shake my head.

“I think you mean gold digger,” I add, amused.

“Same thing. Don’t change the subject. I require my daily tribute, preferably in boxes of a dozen of each flavor.”

“Forgive me, your highness. It is awfully bad of me to have forgotten to pay my tribute. I’ll rectify that right away. How many flavors do you require?”

“I suppose I can be satisfied with three,” she answers pensively.

“Thirty-six cookies? My, for a tiny thing, you surely can eat a lot.”

“Of course,” she quips, patting her belly. “There’s always room in here for your daily tribute.”

I stare at her stomach. Then swallow hard. I don’t think she realizes where my thoughts are straying in this moment, or the fact that I’m thinking of an entirely different tribute that would fit inside of her.

Fucking hell.

I move uncomfortably in my seat in an attempt to keep the lust at bay.

Minnie, though, is oblivious as she continues to chat away about her favorite cookie flavors.

“Right. Let’s go buy cookies,” I declare. Anything to help me take my mind off the many ways in which I could fill her up with other things.

She beams at me.

As we drive, she appears deep in thought for moments on end. Eventually, she speaks.

“You’re a very nice man, Marlowe.” She pauses. “For a killer.”

“I’ll have you know I have a moral compass too,” I interject. “I don’t?—”

She turns to me and places her finger against my lips. Then she shakes her head.

I should probably pay attention to the road. But that’s very hard to do when my dick is still crying for her attention, my heart is hammering in my chest, and my eyes don’t even want to blink because that might mean a second of not seeing her.

“Don’t tell me again how you wanted to kill me. You’ll ruin the mood,” she murmurs softly.

“But it would have been a special death,” I protest.

“You and your special death.” She sighs and leans back in her seat. “See, now you’ve ruined the mood.”

Unfortunately, my mood is anything but ruined…

“Minnie! I would have cherished your dead body!” I say, though retrospectively, that didn’t come out right.

She gives me a stern look.

“I’d rather you cherish me alive,” she adds drily.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Her brows go up as she looks at me in surprise.

Then she smiles.

“I’ll buy you four dozen cookies,” I say, needing to keep that smile on her face.

She clasps her hands together in a sign of happiness. Her smile widens, too, and the entire car becomes bathed in the pure light she emanates. And the only thing I can do is bask in it.

Of course, by the end of the day, I’m once more too enthralled by her to interrogate her on her origins or ask her about Sarah’s behavior when she saw her.

And that’s how I realize it.

I’m bewitched all right. But it’s of my own making.

That doesn’t mean I’m not still curious to know what she is. But that can wait until I get some distance from her so I can think straight again.