Hexed (The Gwen Sparks Series Book 4) (18 page)

“Dorian’s not here,” I told him.

“Oh, we know,” Bree said. Her voice was so chipper that I smiled in response. “He thought it would be nice if we took you out for lunch.”

I peered over my shoulder at the clock on the microwave and saw it was 1:15p.m. When I looked back at the two, they were staring at each other and whispering something that escaped me. They both had smiles on their faces when their eyes found mine again. I had to remind myself that these two were spirit walkers and in town to reap expired souls. In other words, souls like mine.

“If you’ll just wait here,” I told them with a small smile, and then shut the door and flipped the lock. I headed back toward my bedroom, remembering seeing a purse on the dresser earlier. I rummaged through it for a cellphone and scrolled through the contacts list. Finding Dorian’s name, I pressed the call button and waited for him to pick up.

“Gwen?” His normally smooth voice was edged with concern. “Has something happened?”

“No,” I told him. “At least, I don’t think so. Bree and Reece just showed up to take me to lunch. They said it was your idea. I guess I just wanted to make sure they were telling the truth before I left with them.”

“Bastard,” Dorian muttered. “Actually, I sent Bree to take you to lunch. Reece must have heard and decided to invite himself.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, feeling lame that I called and checked.

“I’m happy you called,” Dorian said as though hearing my unspoken embarrassment. “The
old
you wouldn’t have. You would have trekked out the door under the guise that you could protect yourself.”

“And I couldn’t?” I asked. “Protect myself, I mean.”

A soft laugh filled my ears. “Oh, you have the power to protect yourself. The problem was that sometimes the shit you found yourself in was a little deeper than you expected it to be. You were never careless, just…stubborn.”

That made me smile. “The kind of girl that if told she couldn’t do something would do it just to prove you wrong?”

“Exactly,” Dorian said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“I could see me doing something like that,” I admitted, and then remembered that Bree and Reece were still waiting outside. “I should go. Thanks for sending Bree over to spring me from house arrest.”

Dorian laughed. “Even inmates get yard time. I’ll see you soon.”

“HAVE A SEAT,” the werewolf detective said, gesturing toward the two chairs in front of his desk. He moved around the bulky furniture and sat down.

“I’ll stand, thanks,” I told him, moving further into the cramped office. My eyes traveled along the white walls, taking in corkboard full of tacked-up flyers. Micah had called me earlier today, stating that he needed to see me. Dealing with the police—human or otherworldly—did not interest me. I was here solely for Gwen, with the hopes that Micah learned or heard something.

“You wanna tell me why the NAWC called and asked us to detain Gwen until they arrived?”

Shit. This wasn’t good. I expected the NAWC to show up; I just didn’t expect them this soon. If I had to, I’d flee with Gwen until Ethan and Fiona could scrounge up the ingredients for the spell. If time wasn’t on our side, I would steal it. And when the NAWC tracked Gwen down, we would flee again. I’d hop across the entire goddamn map with her if I had to.

“Well?” Micah asked, his voice impatient.

I turned toward him, eyed him through the shadow of my sunglasses. He and Gwen had once dated. He may have even loved her, though not enough.

“I know she’s in some kind of trouble,” Micah said. “Obviously it’s some serious shit otherwise the NAWC wouldn’t be breathing down my neck. Like I said, each species has their own government with their own set of rules that I have to abide by. If I go against those rules I could lose my job.”

Spineless bastard,
I thought. “So you expect me to just hand her over so you have job security?” I laughed harshly. “If you’re trying to appeal to my humanity, don’t bother, I don’t have any.” From what I saw, every man that had entered Gwen’s life had ended up letting her down in the end. I didn’t intend to. When I gave my word to her, I gave it with the promise that I would do everything in my power to save her. Then again, maybe that was guilt fueling me. This whole mess was my fault, stemmed from my selfishness and inability to let her go. How ironic that the angel of Death couldn’t watch someone he cared about die. Maybe karma had come to teach me a lesson, make me understand all those annoying human emotions that had perplexed me all these years.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Micah said, his voice edgier than before. “Gwen…she means a lot to me. I just want you to know the restraints I’m under, the hell I’ll catch for helping you guys.”

“Why?” I asked. “You have nothing to prove to me, and no matter how heroic you appear, it will not erase yours and Gwen’s past.” I took a step toward his desk. “Do you think I’m helping her for some accolade, that I need recognition for saving her life?” I fisted a hand at my side, growing angrier by the second. “I’m helping because it’s what’s best for
her
. She’s been dealt a shitty hand, left and betrayed by those she once loved and trusted.” I rested both of my hands on Micah’s desk and leaned toward him. “She needs someone who won’t let her down. Not someone who doesn’t have the balls to do whatever it takes for her.”

After meeting Gwen, I’d done a little digging of my own and found out that at sixteen her parents kicked her out for being a witch. She lived in Moon with the council until nineteen when she moved to Flora with Fiona, and had been taking care of herself ever since. She and her parents hadn’t talked since. She was able to see her younger sister—Rebekah—a couple weeks ago when Aaron La’rue, a member of the VAC, kidnapped her. For the majority of her life, she’d been alone. When I heard about her life, it not only pissed me off, it created this unfathomable need to always be there for her. I don’t know why; I’d never gotten attached to a woman before, but that’s exactly what I was—attached.

“Listen,” Micah said, standing up to meet me eye for eye. “Gwen and I may not have worked out but don’t think for a second that you’re the only one who cares about her.” Micah’s amber eyes brightened as his wolf surfaced. I grinned at the show of dominance.

“I never said I wouldn’t help,” Micah continued. “I wouldn’t have called you in to talk if I just planned on arresting Gwen, but if I’m going to do this then I need to know what the hell is going on.”

We stared at each other while I tried to decide whether I should tell him the truth. While I didn’t particularly like police and politics, having a detective on our side could come in handy. One of my specialties was being able to connect with and read souls, and I could sense the sincerity in Micah’s. He actually did care about Gwen’s wellbeing. I also detected a small trace of love lingering within him and, while I didn’t like it, that love would help keep him focused on Gwen’s safety.

Taking a seat, I propped my foot up on my knee and relaxed. “Fine, but this information doesn’t leave this office, got it?”

Micah’s muscles relaxed, his arms sagging at his sides. “Got it.”

I proceeded to tell him everything, starting with Gwen’s attack by the rogue and ending with the imbalance of life and death. After I was done, Micah sat down and stared off into space as though stunned by what he learned. Slowly, his head turned and our eyes met. The fire was behind his gaze again, accusing and infuriated.

Micah snorted, a derisive sound. “You talk a good game about caring for and protecting Gwen, but where the hell were you when it mattered, when the rogue attacked and killed her?” His voice was razor sharp. I welcomed its abusiveness, but no matter how harshly Micah berated me, it would never compare to the guilt gnawing me from the inside out.

“Do you even know what loving someone means?” Micah asked, catching me by surprise. He must have seen the confusion on my face because he huffed without amusement. “No, I suppose someone like you wouldn’t, would you?”

“I never said I loved her,” I told him. “I care about her and had I known she was in danger I would have never let her go into work.” I paused to collect my thoughts. “I’ve never been able to see her path and therefore couldn’t intercept any dangers.”

Why the hell did Micah think I
loved
Gwen? Love was a human emotion, a pointless one in my opinion. Love was what caused all the pain I’d witnessed over the years. It infected people’s minds and rendered them hopeless when their loved ones were inevitably taken from them. It lifted them up only to tear them apart in the end. I had never understood why someone would choose to go through that. Sure, I liked Gwen, and I had purposefully replaced her soul because I wasn’t ready to let her go, but love? My stomach felt like it had opened up into a bottomless pit, and I was freefalling at breakneck speed.

“Well, at least now I know why you’re so adamant about fixing Gwen,” Micah continued, ignorant to the mental torment I was under. “If it’s not love, it’s the guilt of what you’ve done.” He thought for a moment. “That, or by replacing her soul you’ve gotten yourself in some serious trouble with…whoever you answer to. Is this what this is, a cleanup to fix your mess?”

This dog was getting on my last nerve. “My motivations are none of your fucking business. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is finding a way to distract the NAWC.”

The earlier anger contorting Micah’s face smoothed. The corners of his mouth turned down as he thought about something. “So, Gwen’s…she’s…” His mouth snapped shut, and his eyebrows pulled together.

“She’s what?” I asked, annoyed with this entire visit and the churning in my stomach.

“Dead,” Micah whispered, his eyes coming up slowly to meet mine. “Is she dead?”

I stood, ready to get the hell out of this building. “Not if I can help it.”

I headed out the door and tried like hell to extinguish the thoughts racing through my head, to erase the ideas Micah had planted there. Love? Ridiculous.

After leaving the police station, I headed toward Smith’s bar and knocked back a couple shots. A pretty woman with chestnut hair and hazel eyes poured drinks from behind the bar, a come hither smile on her pouty mouth. I spent all of five minutes appraising her voluptuous breasts, slim waist and curvy hips before Gwen slipped into my mind and erased any interest I may have had in the bartender. That didn’t mean anything. It sure as hell didn’t mean I was in love. At least, those were the words on loop in my head. Maybe if I repeated them enough I’d start believing it.

“Want another, honey?” The bartender leaned over the bar so her cleavage spilled forward. Just a few months ago, I would have had her in the bathroom moaning, but now I couldn’t find the interest.

Angry, I threw back the last of my bourbon and slammed the shot glass atop the counter. Standing, I produced a few bills and tossed them toward the bartender. Without a word, I turned and headed out. The alcohol hadn’t helped quiet my subconscious. My inner voice continued to analyze what Micah had said, all the while flashes of Gwen throughout the time I’d known her played through my head. I’d see her smiling at me, scowling, laughing, and watching me when she didn’t think I knew. The images caused an unrelenting pressure in my chest. Even the times when she was mad at me, her face all pinched and serious made me smile. There was a time when I first moved into her apartment where we ate pizza and watched Abbott and Costello. At the time I’d barely known her, but I couldn’t stop watching as she laughed at the movie. At one point she laughed so much that she snorted, which caused me to laugh. Her cheeks had flamed with her embarrassment and I remembered thinking how magnificent she was.

No, no I didn’t love her. Micah was right when he said I was fixing my mess. I’d made a mistake, and it was my job to clean it up. The Fates hadn’t contacted me yet, but I knew they couldn’t be happy with me.
All the more reason to find a solution and fast,
I thought. Having the NAWC on our backs was nothing compared to what the Fates could do. Given the choice, I’d battle the witches’ council a hundred times over.