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“You’re real brave to barbeque naked.”
Crap. I’d forgotten I was still in my birthday suit.
Chapter 17
Sybil
Lightningflashedacrossthesky, illuminating the wet road in front of us. I sat in the passenger seat of Zayn’s pickup as he drove us home. Home as in the condo, not as in the cottage, of course. It was easy to fall into the trap of thinking of the cottage as home since we’d been playing house in it all weekend.
It had taken a lot longer than we’d thought it would to drop off all the stuff. We’d only managed to get to one of the donation places in the morning before realizing that we’d never be able to get it all done before the van was due back at the rental place at noon on Monday.
It had been Zayn’s idea for us to transfer everything into his pickup. After he’d insisted that it wasn’t taking away from his work and that he didn’t have any meetings on Monday afternoon, I’d agreed.
We’d picked up his truck from the condo’s underground garage and moved all the bags and boxes into the back. I hadn’t expected the shiny rims and luxury interior. But it wasn’t the massive twelve-inch touch screen, ambient lighting, or the leather upholstery and real wood trim that impressed me the most. No, that honor went to the amazing sound system.
That, and the massaging front seats, which were something I really needed after a weekend of organizing.
We’d spent the rest of the day dropping off the items, first to the donation centers, then a run to the dump. Then we grabbed a late lunch at the Starving Aardvark, a restaurant that served all-day brunch.
It was his first time out at an honest-to-goodness restaurant in years, and I’d assured him that I’d help him control his serpent if it threatened to bust out after the first bite of chicken and waffles. The rain had started just as we stepped out of the restaurant, and we’d giggled and laughed like teenagers as we ran for his truck.
I didn’t want this to be over, and judging by how slow Zayn was driving, he didn’t either. What had started out as just a boring weekend cleaning out Great Granny’s place had ended up as a memorable romantic getaway. Zayn had left on Friday as my hot, cursed neighbor who needed my help and returned on Monday as something more.
We hadn’t actually talked about it, so maybe I was reading too much into it, but he did build me a nest, and that had to count for something. Right? Maybe that was why he was driving so slowly. He didn’t want to havethe talkwhen we got back to the apartment building.
An alert from my phone sounded in my purse, and I temporarily made space at my feet for Salt and Pepper’s carrier so I could check the notification. I knew from the ring tone it wasn’t an unknown number or the dreaded Nigel. It was the tone I assigned to messages from the Let’s Talk About Hex forum chat group. Someone by the handle hellsbellsncheapmotels wanted to chat about the question I’d posed concerning curses and nagas.
“We got a bite on the forum about the curse,” I said. “She wants to do a video chat. When are you free?”
“Any day this week after 2 P.M.”
I messaged her back, and we decided to meet online the next day at 6 P.M. I hoped this was the break we needed.
Zayn had managed to sustain his naga form for a few minutes at a time, but he still said it never felt right, and after a short while, his serpent or human would take over completely. I had an idea of how I could help stabilize the shift, and I planned on working on it this week, but I hadn’t told him about it yet, just in case I couldn’t figure it out.
Even if I did, it wasn’t the same thing as breaking the curse entirely. It would just be a Band-Aid, not a permanent cure. I sure hoped hellsbellsncheapmotels could give us something useful.
Zayn pulled into the underground parking lot, and soon we were in the elevator heading up to our floor.
I felt it in my gut the second we got out of the elevator and stepped out into the third-floor hallway: a feeling of dread pooling in my belly. I held my breath, expecting something bad to happen. Zayn, who’d been holding my hand, moved his body in front of me protectively.
But there was no one there. The hallway was empty. Quiet.
We got to his door first, since it was closer to the elevator. Zayn inhaled through an open mouth, tasting the air.
“What do you smell?” I whispered.
He just shook his head and dug his keys out of his pocket. I reached out with my magic but didn’t feel anything either. He put the key in the door and frowned. “It’s unlocked.”
There was that eerie feeling again.
“Stay behind me,” he said, pushing the door open.
His place was a disaster, and by the look on his face, this time his snake wasn’t to blame. Furniture had been thrown everywhere, and the curtains had been pulled down from the windows together with their rods.
But that wasn’t what had my blood running cold.
Scrawled across his walls in red paint were the words “I know what you did, Which.”
