A muttered word and her left hand began to glow. “Give it to me now, and I won’t hurt you.” Kinkly let out a squeak and Missy’s eyes shot to the fairy. “Filthy vermin.” Her hand lifted as if she intended to toss a spell at Kinkly. I’d seen her do it before. Zap fairies, that is, or really any supernatural creature she thought unworthy of air.
I grabbed her hand and her magic crawled over my arm, stealing my breath. The urge to bend my knee and my head under the pain was so sharp I couldn’t breathe around it. Instead, I threw her hand to the side and sucked in a big gulp of air.
I tucked the book into my bag and took a step back, drawing her with me, fighting to keep my voice even. “I will never give it to you. It was my gran’s magic that gave you and Hattie the strength to be far more than you ever could have been on your own. And Kink is a friend, and under my protection.” I was guessing here, based on a few partially forgotten conversations from my teen years, but by the way her face began to purple at the edges, my shot in the dark had hit home. My gran had led the three of them in spell casting, mostly protective spells from what I could remember. Keeping the spirits of Savannah from rising up and attacking its citizens—you know, the usual. Not that I’d been any good at it, no matter how many times they’d tried to teach me. I just didn’t have my gran’s knack for spells. “Now that Hattie’s gone, you don’t even have her to draw off. You should have tried harder to keep her alive.”
White-hot rage leached the color from her face. I’d seen her like that before. Basically any time my gran disagreed with her. Which had happened, although not often.
Here’s to pissing off old ladies who could kill you in your sleep. That was one thing it seemed I did have a knack for.
Which made me think about Hattie, and how we still didn’t know why she’d wanted to call that demon.
My distraction cost me.
A mumbled string of words flowed off the tip of Missy’s tongue and her hand flicked at me, just an outward snap of her fingers, before I could so much as step sideways. The spell, or more likely it was a curse, sent sizzling sparkles toward me. They hit me right in the chest and sunk through my shirt in a flash. I could feel them brushing over me, but only for a moment before the necklace talisman my gran had sent me heated up against my skin, giving off a flare of light under my shirt. Missy stumbled back as her magic rebounded off that talisman.
Go Gran!
“Miss-ssy.” I growled her name, as if she were a bad dog. She glared at me, then slowly her glare slid into a smirk.
“You have no idea what you’ve stepped into,” Missy stepped close and whisper-hissed at me, then shook one knobby finger right at the tip of my nose. “You aren’t your gran. Not by a long shot. You will regret ever—”
“Sold!” The word rang out above everything else and I slumped where I stood. I’d kept Missy from buying my gran’s house, but I hadn’t been able to bid on it either.
Missy shook her head at me. “You are still the foolish little girl who ran off all those years ago. You have no idea what you’ve done.” She spun on her heel, sending her long skirts out in a flared circle that knocked a few patches of lavender down as she made her exit. She paused at the gate and looked back, as if seeing Crash for the first time. She swung her cane and pointed it at him. “You dabble in things you’d best stay out of, boy.”
Crash stared hard at her. “Missy, take your useless spells and go bother someone else.”
Oh, snap! Her face closed down and she huffed her way out of the gate. Okay, now seriously, he’d been hot enough before he’d stared down my nemesis and sent her on her way. Damn. Why did the bad boys have to be so ducking good at comebacks?
The other bidders left rapidly, but one stayed behind. Crash. Of course he was the one who’d actually made the purchase.
He stood speaking with Monica, who alternately beamed up at him and glared at me. Of course, I’d distracted the other bidder, which meant the price hadn’t gone up as high as it could have. I hoped that Crash appreciated my contribution.
Himself, who stood to the left of Monica the realtor, didn’t bother to hide his distaste. His eyes all but shot laser beams at me. “I want to do another auction,” he said, loud enough that I could hear.
I made myself move closer, if for no other reason than to piss off my ex.
Monica barely glanced at Alan as she took the paperwork from Crash, his signature clearly on it. Though his name wasn’t Crash. I leaned in to get a better look, but all I saw was a fancy G before Monica folded the papers. “Well, no, that’s not how this works. You see, everyone who placed a bid signed a contract agreeing the sale would be final if they won. We can’t have another auction—you’ve sold the house.”
Well damn, I didn’t even get that piece of paper! There had been no chance for me then, even if the price had been right.
“Not for what it was worth!” Himself snapped. “It didn’t go over half a million, and you promised me it would! She distracted one of the bidders on purpose!”
I tucked my hands into my pockets and closed the distance between the small group and me. “Well, I suppose it could have gone over that, if you’d allowed everyone to bid. But you didn’t, did you?” I made one of those fake pouty faces, scrunching my lips up. “Pity you were so short-sighted. I would have paid double what he did.” I tipped my head at Crash.
Monica’s eyes bugged out, no doubt thinking about the commission she would have had, and if I’d thought Himself couldn’t glare any harder, he was proving me wrong.
“You don’t have any money,” Himself said.
I opened my bag and pulled out the wad of bills. No, twenty grand wouldn’t have gotten me far, but it looked good in my hands. “You’re right, I’m totally broke.” And then I stuffed the money back in my bag.
Monica’s face slowly went red as she turned on Himself. “You said we needed to exclude her from the bidding because she didn’t have any money!”
Oh yeah, get him, Monica!
I smiled and turned to Crash, my smile slipping. “Congratulations. Maybe I can swing by to . . . have tea sometime.” I didn’t want to say to see my gran, but he nodded like he understood.
“Actually, I have to discuss a business proposition with you,” he said. “Will you come inside?”
Monica was right up in Himself’s face now, all Southern hospitality gone as she ripped a verbal strip off him for costing her so much commission. Of course, she’d made her sale, and she was probably grateful she no longer had to walk in glass slippers with him.
Listening to someone else berate him was like music to my ears. A symphony I would replay over and over in the wee hours of the night.
I left Monica to it, following Crash up the stairs into Gran’s house—I would never think of it as Crash’s—and then into the kitchen. He turned to face me as he reached the butcher block counter. I slowed in the doorway and just breathed in the smell that still lingered from Gran—herbs, for the most part, but there was also a hint of her perfume.
“I have to go on a trip,” Crash said. “I’m leaving Feish behind and I don’t want her to be alone.”
“Afraid your slave will escape?” I bit the words out, still not for one second happy about my friend’s situation.