Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Between the dark, and the shelves, and the Nucklevee's huge body, I had a moment of panic that some other creature had just joined the fight.

Then I caught sight of pale hair, and brilliant green eyes that backlit like a cat's, and finally recognized Lorcan. Relief immediately flowed through me, even if I couldn't help but wonder why it had taken him so long to get here. And where the spell was Taliyah? Furthermore, what was the point of calling in backup if said backup took so long to arrive? Sheesh.

I'd seen Lorcan fight before, of course. With the life I'd lived in the past couple of years, we'd ended up in quite a lot of fights, really. Vampires were very strong, and very fast, and they made excellent backup. The best sort of backup, really. As powerful and talented as I was, I always felt better with Lorcan at my back.

But, whether out of personal preference, or due to the historical issues between vampires and witches, Lorcan had always been careful to keep his fangs under wraps, so to speak. He kept himself contained. Cautious. Restrained. I'd never seen him absolutely furious before.

But as he blasted into the store, that's exactly how he looked. He paused a few feet from the Nucklevee, staring down the aisle to where I was half crouched, half kneeling on the ground with the mirror clutched in my arms among the wreckage and shattered glass of the pawnshop's counter. It wasn't until I saw Lorcan's nostrils flare, and his face go tight that I realized I was bleeding. The heavy frame of the mirror had bitten into my fingers, and the lines of heat trailing over my skin wasn't sweat, after all.

I shifted on the ground to try and stand, and shards of glass bit through my pants and into my knees. A hiss slipped out of my mouth, pained and ticked off in equal measure. In response, Lorcan's lips drew back off his teeth. He turned towards the Nucklevee where it stood, its ears pinned flat to its neck, and let out a snarl that would have done a wild cat proud.

Then Lorcan launched himself towards the Fae in a rush so fast, all I saw was the blur of his pale hair. Well, as distractions went, it was a pretty good one. A savage grin split my face, putting way more teeth on display than I usually did. Lorcan could easily keep the Fae busy while I dealt with the magic side of things.

I was impressed. It was kind of hot to watch Lorcan lose it. I'd have to be sure to reward him later. But for now, I had other things on which to focus. With a wince at the burning in my knees, I pushed up and off the ground. I'd really liked these pants. What a shame that I'd lost them to glass shards and my own blood. Hopefully, Lorcan left some of the Nucklevee for me so I could make sure he knew just how displeased I was.

The Fae whinnied behind me, high pitched through his nose, and furious. Lorcan let loose a growl that was so low, I felt it in my chest, and the hair at the back of my neck prickled. While he had the Fae distracted, that left me open to actually do something about the curse on the stupid mirror.

Honestly, the things I got myself roped into since I'd moved to this town. It was absolutely ridiculous. Annoyed, in pain, and absolutely done with all of it, I limped my way over to a section of the counter that was still intact and dumped the mirror down on its surface.

Hughes looked around wildly, realized he was staring at the ceiling, and clapped a hand over his eyes as he doubled over like he was going to be sick. What a drama king. Like he had to do anything but sit there.

As to the curse? Well, it was gross, and very stubborn. I couldn't believe something so nasty was spawned out of business rivalry and hurt pride. Actually, I could. Pride had led to some of the worst things I'd ever seen. It was still annoying as spell, though.

Black strands clung to my fingers, my arms, and I tried to unweave them while also not letting them get hold of me.

"Ugh, gross." I scraped a really persistent bit off my arm and onto the counter, and it fell to the floor before disintegrating into smoke.

It didn't help that I was distracted by the fight rampaging behind me. If they could have kept the mayhem to a quieter decibel, that would have been helpful. But here we were. I kept one eye out, in case I needed to get out of the way fast. Getting trampled under hooves would not make spell craft any easier.

"Come on, come on." I teased one strand of the curse to the side, and two more latched on to replace it. "Okay, now I'm just getting angry."

Lorcan let out a ripping snarl, the kind I'd never heard from him before, and my head jerked up—just in time to see him twist out of the way of the Nucklevee's strong teeth. Writhing around like an eel, the Fae lashed out with both hind legs in a devastating kick that launched Lorcan into one of the only shelves that was still standing.

Well, hadbeen one of the only shelves still standing. The wood shattered, caving in on itself as it went flying. Lorcan went down in a pile of junk and splinters. Sharp, ragged pieces of wood went skittering across the floor, and my heart became as cold and still as lead. As I watched, my breath caught in my throat and Lorcan picked himself up easily, launching back into the fight. But there were rusty stains on the edge of his jacket, and I couldn't pry my eyes away from the foot long, jagged piece of wood lying on the ground.

That was practically a stake. A stake. A few inches to one side, a bad angle, and it could have gone through Lorcan. He could have been staked. By some bitter old Faerie kicking him through a shelf.

Vampires were strong. Vampires were dangerous. That had been drilled into my head, over and over, from when I was just a baby witch. Two Blood Wars had taught us that. And while vampires obviously weren't a match for witches and our magic, that didn't make them any less of a threat. Even with their weakness to the sun, it wasn't smart to underestimate a blood sucker.

Lorcan was strong. Fast. Impossible in so many ways. I'd called him as backup, yes, but it had never even occurred to me that he could be hurt. That he could be… Pain slithered through my chest at the very thought of what so nearly had just happened to him. My ribs suddenly felt too tight to contain my heart.

No. No, I'd never let that happen. I'd never allow it.

I left the mirror on the counter. The stupid thing could wait. I had bigger things to worry about now. Once upon a time, my magic had been a part of nature. A connection to the Goddess. A thing of silver moonlight and night wind. Being blooded had changed that. My magic had become a darker thing, connected to lonely graves and blood-soaked soil. It pooled in my chest now, slithering shadows in my veins. It wasn't something I was comfortable with, even years after the change, but in this moment, I welcomed it with open arms, called it to me with sweet names like a beloved pet, and sent it flowing out into the building in a tide of hissing whispers.

The curse was behind me. I could feel the angry, thorny edge of it without looking. And I could feel the sullen, cold water pull of the Nucklevee where he twisted and fought, determined to do as much damage as he could. And I could feel Lorcan, my husband, my sire, the blood that had made me now dripping down his side from a wound that had already smoothed shut.

The power in me surged, itching to be set free. But the fight was moving fast, my eyes couldn't keep up, especially in the near dark. I couldn't risk a blood bolt, not if there was a chance I could hit Lorcan. I needed something else, something that would divert the Nucklevee's attention and give Lorcan a chance to finish the fight.

The shadows crawled through the room, seeking. Finally, they found something. A vessel waiting to be filled. Perfect, I thought, even while my mouth twisted up into a grimace. The taxidermy racoon twitched as my blood magic flowed into it. Fur and sawdust and staring glass eyes twitched, scrabbling free of the wooden base they'd been fixed to. The animal waddled its way towards the edge of the shelf and waited.

When the Nucklevee's broad back passed underneath it, I commanded it to lunge. There was something deeply satisfying in watching the big terrifying horse Fae, absolutely freak out when the undead raccoon dropped down onto its back. Beddow shied sideways, twisting, bucking, trying to throw it free while the raccoon scrabbled and clung to its mane.

I was feeling spiteful, so I had the raccoon set sharp needle teeth into the Nuckelevee's ear, and grinned when the Fae squealed and tossed his head. While this one was certainly helpful, I still thought taxidermy pieces were creepy as spell.

There were a couple other animals on the shelf: a pigeon, a parrot of some kind, and what I was pretty sure was a guinea pig. The shadows filled them all, coaxed them into movement, and they rained down over the edge of the shelf onto the Nucklevee. The Fae pitched and squealed, trying to buck them off. And Lorcan, the brilliant, wonderful, if forgetful, man that he was, didn't let my distraction go to waste.

Seeing Lorcan throw himself back into the fight wasn't reassuring. He was so fast, and he had some backup at least, in the form of the reanimated animals. But that sharp, cold fear of realizing that he could be hurt, that I could lose him, well it lingered like a sliver of ice in my heart.

It hurt, to turn my back on the fight and face the mirror again. But I had to trust Lorcan. Trust that he was over two hundred and fifty years old, and he'd managed to keep himself alive for most of them without even knowing me. He'd be alright.

He hadto be alright. Or I'd hex his undead butt to Texas and back again.

The curse on the mirror was just as strong and twice as annoying. Trying to pick it apart just made dozens and dozens more threads appear, wrapping around the glass, the frame, clinging to my hands. It was disgusting, and I'd never wanted a pair of gloves more in my life.

Hughes started banging on the glass again.

"Do you mind?" I hissed down at him, shaking another clinging tendril free to evaporate against the ground. "I'm a little busy, right now."

I was done. I was over it. Curse breaking had never been my talent in the first place. What I wouldn't have given to have Imani here with me. Now, that was a witch with a delicate touch. What was more—I should have called in the entire coven as backup. I mean, that's really what it was there for. But my pride had been too stubborn—stubborn enough that it had been difficult to even call Taliyah.

To spell with it. I didn't do delicate—not with a hex of this magnitude. Even when I'd been fully a witch, if someone wanted ‘dainty' from me, they asked for an enchantment. After being blooded, the issue only got worse.

I was frustrated, furious, and worried about my stupid vampire husband.

The shadows poured down my arms, smelling of night air and faintly of copper blood, and I tore into the curse like a vampire taking down prey. I took handfuls of the spell, ripping it free from the glass and metal. It fought me, shrieking in its silent voice as spiteful malice evaporated into the air. When I'd damaged it too badly, when the curse started to crack, I flipped the mirror up and onto its side, just in time for Mr. Hughes to get dumped head-first onto the carpet.

The old man scrambled around until he could press his back against the wall. His wrinkled face was pale as chalk, his chest heaving as he stared at me with eyes the size of saucers. He kept touching everything he could get his hands on, as if to reassure himself that he was really where he thought he was—out of the mirror.

The Nucklevee shrieked, rearing back to its impressive height and its hooves raked the air. The ceiling wasn't quite tall enough though, and its head smacked into the ceiling tiles, sending them plummeting to the floor in a wash of drywall dust. The raccoon went flying, but the guinea pig was still giving its all.

"What is that?!" Hughes let out something that was a little too hysterical to be a giggle, but was certainly from the same neighborhood.

"Great," I groused, raking my hair back from my face. "He's gone off the deep end."

Outside the store, thunder growled. Lightning split the sky and was followed by another rumbling echo that seemed to go on and on and on. The rain picked up again, hammering against the roof in a relentless curtain.

That was odd. Last time I'd checked, we hadn't been due for a thunderstorm for the next week, at least. As soon as the thought occurred to me, the door to the shop crashed open in a wave of glittering ice, and frigid winds blew inside, sending papers and dust spiraling through the air. Lightning split the night in half, lighting the store up like a strobe a breath before thunder roared so loudly overhead that the store shook on its foundations.

Taliyah stepped into the store then, her service weapon in hand, tendrils of frost pale hair floating around her head. Maverick stepped up beside her, purple-black energy crackling up his forearms in a blood bolt that was just begging to be let loose. I didn't think I'd ever been so happy to see someone who was so furious with me.

The Nucklevee whirled, and Lorcan only just managed to dodge backwards and out of the way of his hooves. The Fae caught sight of Taliyah in the doorway, backlit by the storm outside, and he bared his teeth at her with an equine scream of rage. With a furious snort, he charged. Massive hooves dug into the floor as the Nucklevee barreled towards Taliyah. Even with several thousand pounds of furious Faerie about to crash down over her like an avalanche, Taliyah never flinched. Her eyes remained fierce, glowing a pale blue in the flash of the lightning. She stood her ground squarely.

Just before the Fae would have crashed into her, Maverick raised a hand. The concussive blast of power that emanated from him was so bright, so brilliant, that I shielded my eyes with a hiss. Behind my eyelids, after images of purple and red worms squirmed across my vision, and tears burned at the edges of my lashes.

It actually took two full heartbeats for the Nucklevee to crash back to the ground. Maverick had blasted him halfway across the store, and he landed in a tangle of stunned limbs. Hooves pawed at the ground as he tried to heave himself back to his feet, slipping and sliding in the pile of junk and destroyed shelves.

Becoming a Blood Warlock had made Maverick exceedingly powerful, and he'd already had more power than was strictly comfortable before he'd been blooded. It sure did come in handy, from time to time.

The Nucklevee finally hauled himself to his feet, shaking all over like a dog in the rain. He stood there for a second, his sides heaving while he tried to figure out what the spell had just happened.

Taliyah took a look around the store, somehow taking in the shattered shelves, the enormous Fae horse, Lorcan with his fangs at the ready, me holding a cursed mirror up like a shield, and Mr. Hughes collapsed and huddled by the wall, his scalp bleeding from tiny cuts from the flying bits of glass, all in one go. Her expression never changed as she turned to face the Nucklevee.

"You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Should you choose to waive that right–"

The Nucklevee turned and bolted, heading for the back of the store.