To The Fairest Page 6

  I should cut my losses and let her go before I got too attached, but it was too late for that. I wanted this baby. This little mix of Sam and me. I wanted to see her face. Look into the swirling eyes of a dragoness.

  Watch her grow.

  Watch her fly.

  Watch her burn brighter than any star.

  I needed this baby more than I’d ever needed anything before.

  I just didn’t know how I could possibly keep her.

  Leaning back against Sam’s chest, I stared up at the sky, so painfully blue, and scrubbed the tear tracks from my face.

  “If we fight for her.” I began shakily, then with more feeling. “If we fight for her, maybe the Fates will have mercy.”

  Sam stiffened, his breath catching in his throat.

  Then, he began to laugh.

  “What?” I asked, turning my head to glare at him. Some of the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and for the first time I noted the various aches and pains that were plaguing me. “What is it?”

  Grabbing my cheeks he pulled me forward and gave me a wet, smacking kiss on the mouth.

  “The Fates.” He said, and laughed again. His eyes were wild. “The Fates.”

  Okay, in all honesty I was still getting used to the magical realm and the creatures that lived within it. I liked to think that I was usually pretty quick on the update, but it took me a precious few seconds to understand what Sam was getting at. But when it hit me, I started o grin, finally understanding the relief that filled him and left him shaking against me.

  “The Fates.” I whispered. As in the three mythological deities that controlled the fate, and lives, of mortals. I’d learned about them briefly in school but I’d never thought of them as being real, tangible, things. Hell, the last time I’d given them any thought at all was when I’d watched the animated version of Hercules. But I figured if I could have Maleficent as a fairy Godmother, then pretty much anything else was fair game. I laughed, throwing my arms around Sam’s neck and knocking him backwards in my exuberance.

  Maybe, just maybe, Clementine had helped us after all.

  Chapter Six

  Danielle had given me a book of spells shortly after I’d begun working with her.

  It was basically a cheat sheet for everything magical. It was as thick as a phone book and held a collection of spells, charms, curses, and summoning rituals. Flipping through the thin, yellowed, pages, I couldn’t help but notice yet again the artistry of the penmanship. The notes carefully documented at the corners of the pages. The dried flowers and herbs hidden within its depths in some type of system that I had yet to decipher, despite the fact that I’d had the book now for a year.

  I’d started my training with the book from page one, as I’d been told. Which meant that I had no idea what was hidden in the back pages. My hands shook the further I went, the spells growing darker and more intense. The notes in the margins more chaotic. Even the scent changed until it smelled less like a book and more like I was rumbling through the insides of dead body.

  Rot and decay.

  Decay and rot.

  Leather-bound death with words that seemed to crawl across the skin of its pages. I found the summoning about a third of the way through. It wasn’t specifically aimed for the Fates but rather deities in general. I read over it with a jaundiced eye. Unlike most big magic, this particular spell didn’t require me to kill anything. Instead it called for something entirely different, and I felt my brows rise in shock. I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs folded Indian style, as Sam moved about the kitchen cooking.

  “Do you know where I can find Unicorn horns?”

  He didn’t so much as miss a beat, butcher knife flying as he cut up pieces of uncooked chicken.

  “On a Unicorn?” He answered blandly.

  He’d become a real whiz in the kitchen these last few months. He’d gone from making sandwiches bologna first, to training as a cook at the Sundial in Atlanta. It kept him fed, it kept him busy, and chopping up sides of beef was surprisingly therapeutic.

  “I was thinking of something a little more…precut?”

  He grinned and glanced at me through the fall of his hair.

  “A grocery store of magical ingredients.” He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not such a bad idea.” Nodding, he slid the cut meat into the frying pan. “We could earn a fortune. What do you know about business?”

  “Focus.” I said shortly, reading the ritual over and over again so that I’d know it by heart when the time came. “I’m not hunting Unicorns. It’s bad juju.”

  “Fair.” He flipped the meat and began to add vegetables and sauces. “We could try Clarabell.”

  I sucked in a breath past my teeth and groaned.

  “Gah.”

  He laughed. “You’ll like her.”

  “I’m not worried about Clarabell.” Since I’d missed our first appointment together, I’d activated a clause that prevented me from meeting the psychic. Which meant that I’d have to deal with her assistant, a Goblin by the name of Flo. The last time I’d seen Flo she’d been helping me get into the Goblin realm. Which, long story short, had turned out to be a complete disaster in more ways than one.

  “Flo won’t make things awkward if you don’t.”

  “You sort of killed her entire race.”

  “Shit happens. Flo gets that.”

  “She tried to eat me.”

  “The important thing is that she didn’t.”

  “Only because of her allergies.” I grumbled.

  “Babe.” He said, deep voice rumbling. “Get over it. Besides Rachel and Chris, Flo is the closest thing we have to a friend.”

  Sad.

  Very, very, sad.

  I sighed, and went back to studying my ritual.

  “Fine.” I grumbled finally. “But this better be damn good unicorn.”

  * * * *

  Clarabell’s was just as picture perfect as it had been the first time I’d seen it.

  The roses were meticulously trimmed, the ivy climbing the trellis and the side of the building giving the entire landscape an air of romantic whimsy. The sun was lowering and the world was wrapped in a blanket of twilight. Sam had skipped flying in to Atlanta for work. Even if he hadn’t wanted to be there, I needed him for part of the spell. As I followed him up the walkway, I couldn’t help but feel comforted by his presence. Wide shouldered, muscled, dark skinned, with eyes as blue as the sea with live coals swimming in their depths. I loved him. Every twisted, honest, rude, temperamental, loyal aspect of him. The fact that he was a handsome bugger was just a tasty bonus.

  His smile settled my remaining nerves and he swung the knocker three solid times before taking a step back. We both stared at the door until it opened. I couldn’t see anything, but Sam grinned in welcome and held out a hand.

  “Clarabell.” He said, pleased. “It’s good to see you. How long had it been?”

  He paused, listening to a response that I couldn’t here. A second later, he indicated me with nod. “This is Alex. We need some help.”

  His eyes widened slightly and he nodded. “Right. I forgot. Psychic.”

  I looked between him and the empty doorway and then back again. My arms cross over my chest and my eyes narrowed.

  “Are you screwing with me right now?”

  Sam blinked down at me and I watched the corner of his mouth hike up in a smirk to end all smirks.

  “You really can’t see her can you.” He said, not a question so much as it was a statement. I scowled in response and I saw a spark of devilment in his gaze.

  “That’s a hell of a geas, Bell. I’ll have to hire you to weave spells for me. You take commissions?”

  I punched him in the arm and he kissed me solidly before pulling along after him as he stepped into the house. We walked down the main hall, familiar to me after multiple visits. Like always Clarabell’s felt, and looked, completely empty. For the first time I realized how wrong I must have been as Sam paused to talk to people I couldn
’t see.

  It was frustrating.

  Halfway down the hall, I saw Flo step from one of the room, a platter of sweets in her hands. She saw me and her eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed in annoyance. She turned on her heel and was hurrying away when something stopped her mid-step. She faced us once again slowly, as if every bone in her body was screaming at her to escape while she could. Her eyes focused on a spot in the air and she sighed heavily.

  “Yes, of course.” She said politely, and bowed her head towards Sam and I. “If you’ll both follow me?”

  I wanted to mouth something rude to the empty spot Flo had been speaking to, but I was working on being more mature. Or at least appearing that way. So I managed to control myself, but couldn’t help but hold up the middle finger behind my back as we made our day deeper into the house. Now that I knew what I was missing, my curiosity was eating away at me. I wanted to know what sort of clients frequented a psychic medium. I wanted to know what was so special about Clarabell. But if there was anything I’d learned while working with Danielle it was that certain spells couldn’t be broken. A geas was such a spell.

  We turned down a hallway I’d never seen before and unlike the main section of the house, there was only one door to be found. Holding the platter with one hand, Flo pulled a set of keys seemingly from thin air and unlocked the deadbolt.

  “Just put everything back where you found it once you’re done.” She said.

  Stepping out of the way, she went to move around us. Our eyes met and I smiled cautiously.

  “Hey Flo. What’s up?”

  A moment of silence, and then she thrust her chin up in greeting. “Sup.” Flo replied, then continued on her way. Sam’s eyebrows lifted.

  “Feel better?”

  I shrugged but I was grinning all the same. “Yup.”

  “Good.”

  I walked into the room ahead of Sam and he closed the door behind us both. The vials on the shelves were familiar and I realized that we must have been given the run of Clarabell’s charm room. The shelves were filled to near bursting with spells and an alcove in one corner of the room boasted a number of spelling supplies, most of which I’d never seen before. In the center of the room, a circle had been indented in the floor. Candelabras surrounded this lower level. I went over to the alcove immediately, pulling down a few mason jars and a knife as I began to mentally prepare myself for the summoning.

  “Get undressed.” I ordered over my shoulder and heard him growl in pleasure.

  “Dirty girl.”

  “Stop it.” I reprimanded, arms filled with ingredients as I slipped off my shoes and stepped into the recessed circle. I could feel lines engraved in the wood floor beneath my bare feet, and I squinted, realizing in pleasure that the lines formed a pentagram. A symbol of protection in a magical circle. It made things a lot easier. Plus, knowing that the protection had been depicted in such a permanent way was comforting. It would make the circle stronger. Less likely to crumble beneath powerful magic. Once inside of it, I set out my borrowed supplies while Sam stripped down to the skin. He wasn’t shy about nudity, but his skin broke out in goosebumps as I began pulling magic to me.

  I motioned him close, eyes already glazing with concentration as he lay in the center of the circle to stare up at the ceiling. I noticed absently that his eyes had grown black, and the change pleased me. It meant he was taking this seriously. The first step of the spell called for an altered perception. There were two realms that existed side by side. One made of magic and one of man. A third realm, known as the In Between separated the two and acted as a sort of holding cell for creatures or objects that had been rejected from their original plane. I knew how to go beyond the veil, but the land of the Gods was something else entirely. Being magical didn’t necessarily mean that you’d be able to see the almost paper-thin reality that was somehow interwoven into our own.

  To gain audience with a God you had to open yourself in ways that no man, mortal or otherwise, should ever have to. Then you had to appeal to their chosen paradigm. Altering my state of mind was easy. That’s where the Unicorn horn came in. The horn of a Unicorn is pretty much where all of their magic and purity were stored. The horn was sacred, pure, and for all intents and purposes, the closest thing to cocaine that witches, goblins, Widows, and the like had. Which was why the horn had been crushed down until it was nothing more than a sparkling silver powder.

  Straddling Sam’s thighs I poured a small amount of the horn along his bare chest. Clarabell had left her business card inside of the horn’s mason jar and I used it to spread the powder out and cut it into several neat little lines. I met Sam’s eyes once more, the blue startling in the flickering light from the candelabras, and leaned forward to kiss him quick. His lips were their own kind of drug and I felt my body flush with want as the taste of his tongue sent a path of promise straight to my core. I dragged myself away, then bending over him like an addict, I held one nostril closed and snorted a line.

  It burned. Sparklers and pop rocks setting off an avalanche of colors behind my closed eyes. Setting up a roaring in my brain. The sting ached and for a moment I tasted metal on the back of my tongue.

  I licked my lips, then blindly, hungrily, lunged forward to inhale another line.

  Then another.

  And another.

  I licked up the last, cradled it on my tongue, and fed it to him in the arms of another searing kiss. My body rocked, my head swam, and that magic dust hit me hard and fast. I ended the kiss with a moan and felt my upper body do a slow, rolling dance as I threw my head back. My hair fell along my spine in a wave and I purred, running my hands along Sam’s bare chest. The sensation of skin on skin more powerful, more deeply felt, than ever before.

  I wanted to fuck him, right there in Clarabell’s charm room. With him kneading my hips and growling dirty nothings in my ear, I felt as if we could do anything. Call anything. The great Phoenix, one of Jack’s Giants, or maybe even a demon or two. The temptation made my fingertips itch and it took a force of will I hadn’t known I had to get back on the task at hand. It wasn’t that my mind was clouded either. I was focused. Painfully so. Clarity was something I could practically taste. Ozone against my skin and riding my tongue like an unforgiving lover. I could see things, hear them, feel them, on a level that surpassed my usual standards and it left my thoughts racing. Spiraling out of control. Higher and higher until I felt as if I could call down the very stars if I put my mind to it.

  There was no telling how much of my wild confidence was based off of the high and how much of it was based off of a realistic consideration of my skill. I didn’t really care either way. Once I remembered what I was there to do, all I could focus on was completing the spell. It was my driving force. My raison d’être.

  I grabbed the handle of the knife and looked down into Sam’s eyes for a long moment.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  He nodded and lowered his lashes, his answering grin a little mad around the edges.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Good enough.” I whispered, then sliding the anathema free of its sheath, I rose up to my knees and punched it clean through his chest and into his heart. His teeth bared, veins in his neck bulging as he bucked with pain. Guilt tried to take root but I buried it savagely. There was nothing to worry about. Not only would Sam heal the damage in a matter of seconds, the wound was necessary for me to open the right pathway. There were three deities, sisters, who made up the Fates, or Moirai.

  Clotho.

  Lachesis.

  Atropos.

  Clotho spun the threads, Lachesis measured them out, and Atropos chose the method of a person’s death and then cut their thread when the time came. I knew that Sam would heal the wound so he was really in no danger. But threatening him with death threatened his cord, especially since it wasn’t his time to go. Atropos would be focusing her attention on him, changing his fate accordingly so that his shifter magic would heal his wounds and save his life. Her
tampering would open a doorway, one I could step through if I moved quickly enough.

  My body fell forward all on its own, and then I was kissing Sam again. Letting him drag my consciousness along on a path he’d already found. We clutched his thread and the world fell away as Atropos answered the distress signal and worked her subtle magic to keep him alive. We couldn’t physically travel to the land of the Gods, but our spiritual bodies could go anywhere given the proper encouragement. I felt a dip, a sway, a ripple as my spirit was pulled loose from my body and then Sam and I were off, on our way to meet a Goddess.

  Chapter Seven

  The land of the Gods wasn’t at all like I’d pictured it.

  For one, it looked more like a sweatshop than a paradise up in the clouds. Sam and I found ourselves standing within a building with no windows. The warehouse was filled with spindles, millions and millions of them, and a worker sat at each one working tirelessly. There were iron stairs that led to a third floor office with glass for walls so that the three women occupying the space could stand in proper judgment of the workers below.

  There were men, women, and even children there. They spun, measured, and cut with measured skill and I felt as if I were on America’s Next Top Designer, the turbo edition. Though we were standing right in front of them, the people on the first floor never so much as glanced our way, so focused were they on their work. The three women upstairs however, zeroed in our presence immediately. I could only assume by the deadly stillness that spread through the warehouse following our sighting, that we weren’t exactly welcome. A belief that was only compounded when the Fates stepped forward, pressed their hands against the glass wall of their office, and said.

  “You are not welcome here, Alexandria Marie Greyson.”

  It stung but I wasn’t going to take a blatant rejection as a sign of failure. Instead I gripped Sam’s astral hand for support and squared my shoulders.

  “I’m sorry to intrude like this.” I began. “But we’ve come to—”

  “We know why you’ve come, Widow.”