“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your special brand of… well…you,” she says. “But we need Reedsyalivefor this part. Just until we transfer the tether to the curse.”
“Curse?” Reedsy exclaims, at the same time I say, “Alive?”
Draegan rolls his eyes. “Jude, we talked about this. Remember?”
“Did we? Oh. Right! Of course. My apologies.” I lower the crowbar and give him a gentle tap on the dislocated shoulder instead, making him yelp. “Just softening him up a bit. Um… Westlyn? Just curious. This ‘alive’ business… How long will that part take, exactly? Not that I’m rushing your curse work. Just asking for… planning purposes.”
“Curse?” Reedsy says again, but everyone seems content to ignore our sacrificial lamb.
“Depends on how quickly the spell kicks in, I guess.” Westlyn shrugs, her nose crinkling. “It’s my first dark-fae curse re-tethering.”
“Well, you’re gonna begreatat it,” I say with an encouraging smile. “No doubt.”
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
She beams. I beam back. It’s allveryadorable, and I can’t wait to get this unpleasant head-bashing business done so I can take her up to my bedroom, shred the clothes from her body, unfurl my tongue, and—
“FuckingJude,” Auggie grumbles, breaking into our little Hallmark moment and putting my balls back on ice. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
West laughs, her touch warm on my arm once more. “The minute I’m done with him, Jude, he’s yours for the taking. Blood, bones, and all. Hell, if you behave yourself, I’ll even let you strike the killing blow.”
“Damn, I fuckin’loveyou, scarecrow.” I press a hand to my heart and grin. Then, turning that megawatt smile back on our drooling, sputtering guest, “See what I mean, Detective? When you find a woman like her, you donotlet her get away. Anyway, where were we? Ah, yes. I believe I was about to embed something sharp and rusty deep into your—”
“Jude? Sweetness?” Westlyn gives me another smile.
“Oh! The curse. Alive. Right.” I smack my forehead and laugh. “He’s all yours, darling. Do your scary, dark-fae worst.”
“Thank you.”
I flash her the thumbs-up. “You’ve got this.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be right over here if you need—”
“Jude!” She cracks up and rolls her pretty eyes, and I vow to spend the rest of whatever life I’ve got left finding ways to put thatexactlook on her face every fucking night.
So hopeful. So happy.
So sure that this is the key to our future.
Watching her now, seeing that sparkle in her eyes, it’s easy to believe anything’s possible.
Even something as wild and crazy as finding the loophole to shatter an ancient dark fae curse.
Even something as wild and crazy as four ancient gargoyles of Britain finding their happily-ever-after with a kind, sweet, naughty, raven-loving, dark-fae Wintermoon Cerridwen witch from Brooklyn.
Hey. Stranger things have happened.
So for now, I take a deep breath, toss aside the crowbar, and raise my hands in surrender, nodding for Westlyn to do her thing.
She turns off the lights. There’s a brief moment of complete darkness, but then she begins to glow with her magic, illuminating the workshop in soft indigo light.
She gestures for us to stand at equal intervals around the prisoner, one of us at each of the cardinal directions. We obey, watching in silence as she lights four black candles and places them on the ground in front of each of us, then draws a small blade across her fingertip, squeezing a few drops of blood onto each candle.
The flames turn silver, unwavering.
