Alaric’s words sank in. “How?” I had very little experience with dark magic, but the few mages I’d come across that used it had suffered extensive necrosis. We’d not seen any mages at the club last night.
“I don’t know,” Alaric admitted. “My stepmother practices it, as does my father’s minion, but it requires a significant blood sacrifice to curse someone using dark magic. Cursing Raven makes no sense. It wouldn’t benefit anyone.”
“Can you remove the curse?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t have the skills.” I scented no lie in his words; the mage was telling the truth.
“So what are our options?” Damn it. Magenta was the only witch I trusted, but the last I’d heard, she was in the fae realm, and it would take too long to travel there.
If Alaric was right, Raven might not have much time left before the curse claimed her life. My bear howled, inconsolable at the thought of losing his soul-bonded mate.
“My Uncle Adam is powerful enough to remove the curse.”
Raven’s guardian, Tiberius Vane’s brother.
“We have no fucking idea where he is!” He could be anywhere on this continent.
“No, but I have his number.”
“Then call him, but I hope for your sake he’s more trustworthy than your bastard father, or I’ll tear your head off.”
“No need to issue violent threats, care bear,” Zane said from the doorway, where he stood watching, his eyes fixed on our mate. “If he fucks us over, I’ll drop him in a volcano.”
The kitsune pushed through Zane’s legs and jumped onto the bed, where he curled up into a small ball of gray fluff, both tails covering his face. The small creature hadn’t left the witch once since she had fallen unconscious, which was unusual; I’d noticed he often seemed to disappear at regular intervals, returning with random items.
Zane hadn’t commented on this, so I suspected he knew what the kitsune got up to, but I hadn’t bothered inquiring.
“You can’t kill me,” the mage hissed, unimpressed by Zane’s murderous promises.
“If she dies, small fry, all bets are off.”
“Small fry?” If Raven were awake, she’d be giggling over Zane’s new nickname for the mage. My hand squeezed hers as a pang of fear shot through me.
“He fries things, and he’s…small.”
“For the last fucking time, I am not small!”
Zane shrugged. “Po-tae-to, po-tah-to. Now go call Uncle Adam; there’s a good boy.” He threw Alaric a patronizing smirk, but from the scent of acrid anxiety flooding the room, the incubus was as worried as me.
Alaric sneered one last time before stomping away. The front door banged, and then a blast of cold air sent flames surging up the chimney.
Fucking mage.
6
Alaric
Astomach-churning combination of necrotic flesh overlaid with a strong floral scent hit me the minute I crossed the threshold of my father’s house.
How did he stand it? Had years of illegal drug use permanently destroyed his sense of smell?
Thank fuck I hadn’t been born a shifter like Mom. A shifter would heave their guts up the moment they stepped inside this cursed place.
“Welcome home, sir. Your father is in his study awaiting your arrival.” The butler simpered and fawned before scuttling away like the cockroach he was.
Anyone who survived my father’s frequent tantrums had proven their loyalty, and Maurice was no exception. Like Rink, Maurice had been in Dad’s employ for decades. Unlike Rink, Maurice wasn’t especially powerful; but what he lacked in magical ability, he more than made up for in ass-licking talent.
I watched Maurice disappear down the dark hallway before dragging my unwilling self toward Dad’s study. It was the last place I wanted to be. Even the demon realm seemed like an attractive option right now.
