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“You aren’t going to do anything weird to it, are you? I might not have been on hair-braiding terms with my mom, but she was still my mom. If you’re going to use it in an insane ritual, or you’re planning to defile it in some way, we’re going to need to come to another arrangement.” I paused. “And this is definitely a nonstarter if you’re going to try to use it to bring her back to life or something.”
Santiago snort-laughed as he put a lid on the saucepan. “He doesn’t have tha
t ability.”
“Thank goodness for small favors, I guess. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Cain gave me a reptilian smile. “No, I don’t plan to use it for any bizarre rituals or anything. I won’t defile it and am appalled by the implication in its many different meanings. I simply want it, that’s all.”
“What, you want Mercy McQueen’s skull on your bookshelf so you can recite bits of Hamlet to her when you’re bored?” Normally this would be when Wilder reminded me to be on my best behavior, but he was apparently past the point of caring about Cain’s opinion because he didn’t say anything.
He shrugged. “How can I make you believe that the wanting and the having are the only means and end I seek? Nothing more. I’m a collector, not a mad scientist.”
I almost believed him. Almost.
“You say it has nothing to do with me. Which is frankly impossible considering she’s my mother. But answer something honestly for me, because I can’t ignore the connection. You want a knife from my great-grandmother, knowing full well she puts her literal blood into her ceremonial knives. You want the head of my mother. He wants my magic.” She pointed to Santiago. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“What are you implying?”
“Are you trying to get some kind of control over me?”
Santiago raised an eyebrow and glanced at Cain. The witch said, “I can’t speak for him, because I’m not him, but I want your magic for myself. Before you, I spent years begging La Sorcière to teach me. If you can give me even the smallest sliver of what she could have, it will be worth capturing a thousand demons.” He leaned back against the counter, mirroring Wilder’s earlier pose. With his arms crossed he was showing off his sculpted abs and a trail of black hair that went from his chest all the way down, down, down…
“I am not a magician,” Cain said. “I only want to use you in the sense that you can get me things no one else can, and those are things I want.”
Dammit all, I was dying to know why he wanted the skull so badly. But more than that I was still hearing Heidi’s Please, please, please, and knew I couldn’t hold off anymore.
“Fuck,” I shouted, balling my hands into fists and hitting the sides of my legs. No one responded. All three of the men watched me carefully, waiting to see what would happen next. “Fine. Fine. Let’s just do this.”
“Okay,” Santiago said. “Now go home.”
I saw red. My temper—a werewolf trait I usually managed to keep in check—roared to life, and I was suddenly brimming with the kind of rage reserved for people who snapped in traffic jams or hit strangers. Wilder, who knew me better than either of the other men, sensed the change in me almost instantly, and grabbed me around the waist, hauling me back towards him just as I was about to lunge at Santiago.
The witch gave me an amused smirk, totally unmoved by my near outburst.
My lip curled the way a wolf’s might when it wanted to show a flash of warning fang. Secret, who had once been half-vampire and half-werewolf, used to be a pro at this gesture. It helped that she had real fangs to flash, mind you.
I probably looked like a hateful Elvis impersonator.
“We go now,” I said back, twisting his words to suit my needs instead.
“No.” Santiago braced his hands on the counter, and all his coy flirtatiousness was gone. “You of all people should know magic isn’t instant. And I can’t make something that will hold a demon in a few minutes. It will take time, and there are things I need that don’t grow in my garden or come from Whole Foods, understand, brujita?”
I relaxed my body, and Wilder let go of me, allowing me to smooth my clothes and pretend to be a bit more human than I was. I still wanted to tear off Santiago’s face, and Cain’s too, but now I was less likely to try it.
“Yes.”
“I will need to know what kind of demon it is, as well. They are not one-size-fits-all. There are different spells for each type.” He left the room and came back in a few minutes later carrying a huge leather-bound book the size of an IKEA coffee table. He handed it to me, and it immediately attempted to drag me down. Damn thing must have weighed at least fifty pounds.
The title was written in Latin, but I didn’t need a degree in classics to figure it out.
Liber Daemoniorum.
Book of demons.
The gold-leaf cover image of a snarling monstrosity with fang and horns also helped my translation skills a little.
“Homework?” I looked up from the cover to where Santiago was, back against the counter once more.
