18. Ember

18

EMBER

"D o we really think a New York auction house is going to notice if ‘Boyd' isn't wearing cowboy boots?" Ash stood in the kitchen, pouring premixed binding spells into a series of small glass bottles. Her hand twitched, and she knocked a bottle over, spilling the contents. "I have got to find out where that New Orleans coven gets their capsules. These bottles make me feel like a boomer."

"With the heavy accent Mayhem will be laying on them, I think they will." I pulled up the map app and entered New York City as the destination before adding ‘cowboy boots' to the search. "There are two places to get them between here and there."

"Boots aren't cheap." She corked the bottles and added them to her bag o' spells.

I pocketed my phone. "I'm doing what Miles tells us to. We can't give them any reason to suspect Mayhem isn't a Texas oil baron who dabbles in occult antiques as his guilty pleasure."

Chaos rinsed the bowl Ash had used and dried it with a dishtowel. "Is a Texan wearing cowboy attire not equivalent to a Salem witch wearing a pointy hat?"

"Not at all," Miles said as he stepped through the door. "Boots are as common in Texas as beanies are here."

Mayhem joined us in the kitchen, fresh from his shower, a lock of damp hair curling onto his forehead. A flitting sensation formed in my stomach, and I brushed the strands into place before they could drip onto his skin.

I'd kept up my charade of not hearing him say he loved me, and thankfully, he hadn't mentioned it since. I did allow myself the luxury of snuggling into his warm embrace for a while when we woke up. But then we had to face reality and prepare for our scariest mission to date.

Battling beasties I could handle, but humans… Sometimes they were the real monsters, and unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to chop off their heads.

That didn't mean I had to leave my sword behind. My back scabbard lay on the counter, the blade sheathed in fireproof leather. Mayhem caressed the rosewood handle and traced the texture of the skull pommel.

"Whoever built this weapon for you had the gift of foresight," he said, tapping the skull for emphasis. "Unless you requested this design. If so, perhaps you have a latent gift."

A bark of laughter rolled up from my chest. "I wish." I cleared my throat. "My mom had it forged for me. The creator had free reign in the design."

"You can't take weapons inside," Miles said. "They'll have metal detectors and a body scanner."

"I'll leave her in the van. Is everything set up?"

He nodded. "Shade is outside, watching the equipment. We're ready when you are."

I picked up my sword and a bundle of knives wrapped in thick fabric. "Are you done, Ash? Let's head out."

"Yep." She slung her bag over her shoulder, and we filed outside.

Thick gray clouds blanketed the sky, the air so chilly and damp that I shivered. Mayhem wrapped his arm around me, and though I appreciated his warmth, I stepped out of his embrace. No way in hell was I going to lose myself like Ash had. I could imagine the devastation she would feel when the demons returned to the Underworld, and I refused to expose myself to that kind of turmoil.

At the van, I opened the sliding side door and stowed my weapons in the hidey hole. The guys had removed half of the way back seat to set up a makeshift base of operations. They'd zip-tied a folding table against the wall, and a plastic case with who-knew-what kind of equipment occupied the floor beneath it.

A monitor, also zip-tied into place, sat atop the table, and the power cable running behind it plugged into a battery pack the size of…well, I suppose it was a car battery.

I opened the driver's side door and cringed at the shattered windshield as I climbed into the seat. "At least the imp had the courtesy to only smash the passenger side."

Mayhem took shotgun and ran his finger over the inside of the glass. "The damage is confined to the outer layer."

"Thank the goddess for that." I started the engine.

"If Hecate is holding the veil together," he said, "I doubt she had anything to do with the imp."

"Silly demon. It's just an expression. Load up, guys."

My team climbed into the van, and I pulled onto the road. "It's about two hours to the boot store, and then another two after that. What's the rest of the plan?" I glanced at Miles in the rearview mirror, and he straightened.

"I was able to hack into their security system last night. Everyone will have earpieces so we can communicate." He held up a tiny piece of silicone. "Once the amulet is in your sight, I can loop the security feed so everything looks normal. They'll return it to the vault after you see it, so it'll be up to you and Mayhem to swipe it before they do."

"I will do my best to only render them unconscious," Mayhem said. "Any casualties will be unintentional."

I gave him the side eye. "There won't be any casualties. Why do you think Ash mixed so many binding spells? We freeze them, take the amulet, and get the hell out of New York before anyone realizes what happened."

He raised his brows. "You've thought this through."

"This is the most planning I think I've done in my entire life." I laughed. "Weird, isn't it?"

"Indeed." He studied my profile, a grin lifting one corner of his mouth. "I can't decide if I like this side of you or not."

"Neither can I."

We rode in silence once we got the plan hashed out, which I normally would have appreciated. With only the radio and the low drone of the wheels on the pavement to occupy my thoughts, my mind decided it was time to mull over my Mayhem predicament. Again.

The problem was…every thought I had about the situation circled back to the inevitable ending. His time in this realm was finite. Sure, we could try to figure out some way to resummon the demons without damaging the veil, but I could never ask him to give up his home and everything he knew just to live a normal, nearly mundane life in our quiet little town.

Honestly, I wasn't sure how I could endure normal if we made it through this ordeal. Before our parents summoned the first demon, we didn't get much action in Salem. Not compared to the past few months, anyway. I'd always jumped at the chance to send a beastie back where it belonged, but sometimes we'd go days without any action.

And Mayhem… He was royalty in the Underworld. Hell, he was on a first-name basis with Lucifer and Hecate. No way would he want to deal with a humdrum life in the earthly realm.

And I sure as hell wasn't moving to his side of the veil.

"Your destination is on the right," my phone declared, pulling me from my thought spiral. Hallelujah.

I parked in the lot and killed the engine. "Time to cowboy up."

Mayhem smiled slowly, his newly learned drawl stretching out his words. "Alright, alright, alright."

"Don't say that, and don't say ‘yee-haw.'" Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. " That is the equivalent of a witch wearing a pointy hat in Salem."

"Noted," Mayhem said, his voice returning to normal.

My team waited in the van while Mayhem and I went inside. A bell chimed above the door, signaling our arrival, and the shopkeeper, a squat man with salt-and-pepper hair, rosy cheeks, and a nametag that read George, scurried out from behind the counter. "Hello. How can I help you?"

"I need…" Mayhem started, practicing his accent.

"You need cowboy boots." George's gaze dropped to the combat-style boots he currently wore. "Size twelve? I've got just what you need."

We followed him to the boot section, and he gestured for us to sit in the plush chairs across from the display. "You look like an ostrich man. Do you have a particular color in mind? Black. I'll be right back."

Mayhem frowned as George disappeared into a back room. "He asks questions but does not wait for answers."

"He's good at his job." I patted his thigh, and he inhaled sharply before taking my hand and kissing it.

"Perhaps I wanted brown snakeskin." His warm breath danced across my fingers.

"Did you?" I tugged from his grasp and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.

"No, he was correct. I wonder if he's full human or something other."

Before I could explain how retail workers developed a sense for what their customers needed, without using magic, George returned with two boxes. He sat on a stool and reached for Mayhem's foot. My demon allowed the man to remove his boot and put the new one on, which was weird as all get out at first.

Then I remembered he was a prince. Lesser demons probably did his bidding on the daily back home.

The boot George had chosen had a brown heel, square toe, and a red flame pattern on the upper part. Hmm. Maybe this guy did have a little "something other" running through his veins.

Mayhem walked the length of the carpet and returned to his seat. "These will do."

George smiled triumphantly and rested his hand on the other unopened box. "I knew those were the ones. I'll put these back in a minute, but first, you'll need some bootcut jeans."

He tilted his head, eying Mayhem's belt and t-shirt. "If you're trying to get back to your roots, you'll need a belt and shirt too. Or do you already have clothes at home?"

"I—" Mayhem began.

"You haven't lived in New England long, and your wife has been dressing you. Meet me at the fitting room, and I'll gather what you need." George tucked the box beneath his arm and strode toward the men's clothing.

I wasn't keen on the wife part, but yeah, I had been dressing my demon. "Definitely something other."

We waited outside the dressing room, and George returned with starched black jeans, a black leather belt with a huge silver buckle, and a black button-up. Mayhem put them on, and everything fit perfectly.

I focused on George's aura, trying to sense any type of magic he might possess, but he seemed as mundane as Chief Higgins. If he was a magical being, the power was either multi-generationally diluted or he'd cast one helluva shrouding spell to hide it.

George gathered Mayhem's old clothes and boots and put them in a bag before ringing up our purchase. "That'll be nine hundred fifty-three dollars and seventy-six cents, please. Cash or card? Card."

I choked on my own spit. A thousand dollars for one outfit? Damn, cowboying was expensive. "Maybe we should see the other pair of boots? Do you have anything less pricey?"

George's brow furrowed, his nostrils flaring slightly as a tiny bit of the something other sparkled in his aura. "This is what he needs. Your choice of clothing for yourself will be fine, but he must wear this."

The magic dissipated as quickly as it had formed, and I dug my credit card out of my wallet. Whatever kind of being George was, he was magically adamant my Prince of Hell had to wear this exact outfit. Who was I to question someone else's ability?

George's smile returned, and he tapped my card against the reader before handing it back to me. The register made a duh-dun sound, and he frowned. "I'm afraid your card has been declined. Do you have another payment method? Not with you. In your car, perhaps? Yes. The gentleman will wait with me while you call your friends on the phone. Off you go by the window. We have terrible reception in here." He had the audacity to make a shooing motion with his hand.

My teeth clicked audibly, my hands curling into fists. "What are you?"

He tapped his nametag. "I'm George. This is my shop. If you try to leave, I'll tell you to stop."

My lips pursed, sharp pain shooting from my jaw to my temple, thanks to how hard I ground my teeth. His rhyming cadence made it sound like he'd cast a spell, but the wording was off. What a weirdo.

If we weren't pressed for time, I would rip into this guy and make him reveal his identity. But time was the one thing we didn't have, so I turned on my heel and marched toward the window, fuming as I opened a video call with my sister.

"Uh oh." Ash held the phone in front of her so I could see everyone in the van. "What happened?"

"A thousand dollars," I whisper shouted. "A grand for one stupid cowboy outfit, and my card was declined. You didn't mention how expensive this costume would be."

Miles held up his hands. "What kind of boots did he pick?"

"Ostrich. Does anyone have a spare grand lying around?"

"Oh, those are expensive. Leather would be cheaper," Miles said. "But ‘Boyd' wouldn't wear cheap."

"Even if he would, we can't get leather." I glanced over my shoulder and found George enticing Mayhem with a case of gold watches. "Just the clothes, Boyd. I'll get you a watch for Christmas."

Ash scrunched her face. "Why can't you get leather?"

I lowered my voice. "Because George is something , and he insists Mayhem needs ostrich boots and a whole outfit to match. And I would like to throttle him for telling me to shoo."

She opened the van door. "We'll come inside. I might have room on my credit card, and if not, I say this is a for the greater good moment."

"You're right. It is for the greater good. Screw George—if that's really even his name. Come inside and do your mind thing so we can get this shitshow on the road." I ended the call and returned to the counter, taking Mayhem's hand to stop him from trying on a silver bracelet shaped like the ouroboros.

"You didn't tell me your lovely wife's name." George drummed his fingertips together, and I could have sworn faint sparks of magic danced between them.

"You can call me Elenore," I said before Mayhem could tell him my real name.

According to lore, the fae could gain control of a person if they knew their real name. Obviously, that was bogus or the scouts and soldiers would've been demanding our names every chance they got. But the phrase a named thing is a tamed thing existed for a reason. Some kind of being had that power, and I didn't care to find out if our shopkeeper was that kind.

"Hmm." George narrowed his eyes at me before opening the bracelet and holding it toward Mayhem. "Try it on. It's yours, free of charge."

"No." I grabbed Mayhem's arm, yanking him away from the counter. "Change into your normal clothes. We'll buy the boots elsewhere."

He reached for the bag, but it disappeared from the counter before he could grab it. George slapped the bracelet on his wrist. The snake writhed, slithering in a circle and chomping on its own tail.

"Ha! I've got you!" George bounced on his toes, clapping like an imbecile. "Two witches for the price of one."

Mayhem blinked and shook his head as if coming out of a daze. He pulled on the bracelet, trying to unlatch it, but the snake bit its tail harder. His eyes widened as he turned to me. "Run."

I bolted for the door.

"Stop," George said, and I froze, unable to move forward.

I strained against the magic, but an invisible force field stopped me from reaching the exit. I could move backward, deeper into the store, but it would take one hell of an unraveling spell to break through this kind of magic.

The bell above the door chimed as Ash and Chaos stepped through. Her brow furrowed, and she looked from left to right, standing on her toes to see over the racks.

I stood right in front of her, but she couldn't see me.

"Ember?" she called, and my heart plopped into my stomach.

"Emberrrr…" My name dripped from George's tongue as a blanket of magic wrapped around me.

A named thing is a tamed thing…