How to Marry a Warlock in 10 Days (28 page)

“Our involvement was need to know.” Falcon shrugged.

“Oh, and I didn’t need to know?”

“That’s why we’re telling you,” Raven added.

“After you tried to kill me,” Dred tossed back.

“We had to make sure you weren’t treating Middy badly, or we’d have had to kill you, regardless,” Hawk declared.

“Good luck,” Dred scoffed.

“I’m not saying it would have been easy, but it would happen,” Falcon said.

“For fuck’s sake, will you just go to the can and whip out your dicks so you’ll know once and for all whose dick is the biggest?” the bartender snapped.

“It’s cold.” Hawk frowned.

“Shrink factor.” Dred shrugged.

The bartender paused for a moment and looked at each warlock carefully. “Then I’ll solve it for you. It’s that one.”

She pointed to Dred. “Now, get the hell out of the bar.

That guy over there called Warlock Patrol to lock your asses up for disturbing the peace.” She grinned at Dred.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell
you
where the back door is.”

“Let’s go.” Dred and the Trifecta headed toward the back door and slipped out easily just as the brooms with their sirens wailing pulled up to the front.

“So, that back door thing,” Raven began.

“Long time ago,” Dred assured him.

“Oh, no. I’m not worried about that anymore. If she let you, I was curious if she’d let me.”

“Maybe. I have her Witchberry number somewhere.

Hell, you can have my black book. I don’t need it.” As Dred heard the words coming out of his mouth, he decided that this must have been what Middy had felt like when she’d blurted out she loved him. It had been like a popcorn kernel popping right out of his mouth. The worst part was that he knew it was true: He didn’t need his black book.

Not that it meant he was in love with the witch; he was just going to try to be a good husband. Good husbands didn’t have black books. At least Middy’s idea of a good husband didn’t.

“Merlin’s cock! That’s the holy grail for the single warlock.” Raven nodded with appreciation.

Dred nodded. “Don’t take Merlin’s cock in vain.”

“What, like the old bastard is going to show up and tell me not to?” Raven laughed.

“He just might,” Dred said seriously.

Hawk snickered and then so did Falcon. “Yeah, Raven. Don’t take cock in vain.”

“Real mature.” Raven rolled his eyes.

Hawk’s grin turned into a frown. “We need to find Tally.”

“What does she have to do with it?” Dred raised a brow.

Hawk nodded. “You haven’t had a chance to talk to Godrickle? She and Vargill were supposed to show up to a dinner party at Godrickle’s. They didn’t. And with everything that’s happened, Hubert is sure that they’re tied to this somehow.”

“You don’t think that maybe they just took a lovers’ weekend and forgot about the dinner?” Dred could understand how that could happen. He’d rather be with Midnight right now than hanging out in a seedy bar getting his ass handed to him by her brothers. Or waiting for a contact that never showed.

“Because Hubert suspected that the perpetrator ran in high society, he did some checking on all of the chancellors’ financials. Vargill’s don’t even begin to balance and there’s a paper trail that connects him and some known cursed object dealers.”

Dred was thrilled at this possible break in the case, but suddenly worried for Midnight.

“I know, we’re worried about Midnight, too.” Falcon voiced what they were all feeling at the revelation. “But there’s more.” 

Dred waited, knowing by the look that crossed the triplets’ faces in unison that he wasn’t going to like what they had to say.

Falcon continued, “There was a witch we connected to the paper trail. Your aunt, Barista Snow.”

Relief washed over him. “No, it couldn’t be her. She must have had Vargill doing some discreet digging for her.

She wanted a dark object for a youth serum. She had my uncle ask me for one.”

“We have to look into it all the same, Shadowins.”

Dred brushed it off. “That’s fine. I understand. But she won’t.” He smirked.

“Back to Tally. Has Mids been in contact with Tally?”

Falcon asked. “I haven’t found anyone who has spoken to her or seen her since before the house party at Barista’s and she’s not answering her Witchberry.”

“We actually saw her at the house party. Middy said she came with Martin.” What had Tally been doing right outside the door to the library just as the Dred-bot had been trying to kill Midnight? Had she sent it? Dred scowled.

“Good. Just don’t let her see Tally until we get this figured out.”

“Don’t let her . . . you know she does whatever she pleases,” Dred said.

“I know.” Falcon nodded. “As much as I hate to say it, keep her occupied in any way you can until we get this figured out.”

“Good. We’ll do aerial surveillance at Belledare’s funeral.

You’ve got the ground and Midnight?” Raven asked Dred.

Dred nodded.

“Speaking of, where is she?” Falcon scowled.

“Playing World of Warlock on my spelltop.”

“Does she know that you’re at a bar? At
this
particular bar?” Falcon asked and all three brothers’ eyebrows crawled up into their hairlines.

The Banshee’s Bawl was well known for its extra services and hourly room rentals.

“Midnight knows I’m here.” He’d come to meet an informer who’d never shown.

Dred decided not to tell them about how he and Midnight had come to be married. It would be enough for them to know that their sister would be cared for. They didn’t need the gritty details. Dred didn’t fancy another sledgehammer to the bridge of his nose.

“She didn’t curse cat litter to stuff itself in your mouth?” Raven was incredulous.

“Actually, she was going to join me, but the leather pants from Donatien haven’t been spell-cleaned yet. You know how she hates to do that. She stayed home.”

“You took her to . . .” Falcon trailed off. “I don’t want to know.”

“We’re good, thanks,” Hawk said as he nodded.

Dred waited for them to leave before he teleported back to the flat in Paris.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Doppelganger Dippity Do

Drusilla Tallow knew she was going to die.

She knew it was going to be soon and she also knew that it was going to be agony. If she’d been a stronger witch, she’d have killed herself already. Tally had hoped that when Middy lost her cherry, some of her innocence would fade and whatever made her a delectable buffet to the lamia would be diminished.

It had only served to whet the creature’s appetite for more.

She looked at her flesh and wondered just how something so horrible could lurk beneath the surface. Not only that, but how she could have allowed Martin Vargill to do this to her?

Tally had fallen in love and like many a love-struck witch, had been persuaded to do something foolish. She’d trusted everything he told her, believed he was trying to look out for Midnight. He’d even warned her about the Dred-bot that Barista Snow had sent to kill her. Yet she realized now he’d warned her just in time for her to help Middy—to make a suspicious and sudden appearance—but not enough time to warn Middy so she wouldn’t be in danger.

She felt as if her insides were being ripped apart, but she didn’t dare scream. She wouldn’t give Vargill the satisfaction. Tally knew it was the creature’s hunger and it centered her thoughts on Midnight Cherrywood, the succulent sweetness of her flesh, and the goodness inside of her.

Tally could also feel herself slipping away into the darkness; it was a survival mechanism that the lamia used to make it easy to give in to her. Those pictures were how it communicated its needs to the host body, and Tally also knew that they weren’t as repugnant to her as they’d once been. It was training her. The pain receded when she allowed those thoughts. It tempted her into believing that if she gave in to it completely, there would be nothing but an eternity of bliss.

She knew better though.

Her body prepared itself for Martin’s entry. He liked fucking her more now that she held the lamia within her.

Tally could tell that it was like playing with fire for him, flirting with danger.

She wasn’t going to tell him about any of the other changes she’d experienced. Like the extra set of jaws she’d grown inside of her mouth and still, the third set of teeth.

That last set of teeth had erupted somewhere he’d never expect them.

Let him put his flaccid cock in her then and he could glory in the beauty of his creation.

Tally had told him their first time together that it hadn’t mattered if he couldn’t keep it up and she’d meant it. He’d taken her for a nice dinner and walked her home. He’d held the door for her. It had been out of simple kindness and respect that she’d invited him in, but he’d been like a fucking vampire. Once she’d invited him in, she’d given him a power over her.

If she could get free, she’d kill this body and the lamia inside of it. Tally’s time was over no matter whether the flesh lived or died. She’d tried too hard to protect Middy; she’d dumped her into Dred’s lap and instead of tarnishing her goodness, he’d only made it brighter.

Tally figured they were all fucked.

She wanted to cry, but the tears were all gone and she didn’t know if they’d dried up because she’d cried them all out or if she was incapable of crying now that the transition had come this far.

And she was so hungry.

The door opened and Vargill entered. He wasn’t alone.

Behind him was the lady herself, Barista Snow.

She had under her tailored jacket a package wrapped in brown paper. It was the Shale Creek Hand of Glory.

“Look what I’ve brought you, darling.” Barista bared her teeth at Martin in a smile that was more like the maw of a jaguar.

“Did you kill your nephew?” Martin asked slyly.

“I didn’t have to. The fool gave the Shale Creek Hand of Glory to Roderick.”

“And your doting husband was foolish enough to give it to you?” he said, sneering.

“Of course not. He’s in the deepest dungeon in Snow Manor where I put him after I took it.”

Tally wished there was a way that she could warn Middy.

She’d dropped herself right into a nest of vipers by getting mixed up with Dred Shadowins.

Even if she could escape, there was no way to warn her.

Tally wasn’t safe for anyone to be around anymore.

She thought of Tristan’s blood and that eased her somewhat, until the human part of her flamed to life and burned those thoughts from her brain. Tally didn’t know how many of those she had left. Tristan was dead now, so he wouldn’t know what she was thinking anyway. If it soothed the beast to think of the sweetness of his marrow, then so be it. Yet, her humanity cried out against it. She’d loved him, too.

All the men she’d loved had hurt her.

Now that she thought about it, his marrow hadn’t been that divine after all. He was a cheating bastard who couldn’t keep his wand to himself. All those screaming witches who needed a hero were just too much temptation when all he had to come home to was Drusilla Tallow.

Damn him.

Martin’s eyes changed to a uric yellow and he appraised her differently now, almost as if he could see inside of her.

“She’s ready,” he said.

Barista stood the Hand of Glory on a makeshift altar and lit the tips of the fingers on fire as she spoke the ancient Sumerian words that gave her power over the lamia.

Tally felt a new kind of strength surge through her and she pulled at her chains. They came away from the wall with such ease that she wondered why she hadn’t done it before. Barista and Martin made no move to stop her, but continued chanting.

Tally had only one thought in her mind as she fled and that was to find Midnight. Her wings splayed and took her into the night sky as she searched for her prey.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Cock Talk: The Sequel

Dred was dreaming again. He knew this because he was on the same cursed path to that same clearing and he was still skipping. He tried his damndest to get his dream legs to obey him, but he had no luck. He figured he might as well be wearing a dress and pigtails. When a crinoline tried to manifest itself, he cleared his mind and surrendered to the skipping; though undignified, it was better than a flouncy skirt. He wasn’t an Alice, after all.

He squeezed his eyes shut when he got to the clearing, but it was like they’d been pried open with a staple gun. It was a very unpleasant sensation. He wondered if he looked like Alex from
A Clockwork Orange
.

Damn thing shouldn’t be able to sit up and talk to him. Even the Devil agreed.

Instead of seeing his cock, he saw Tristan Belledare.

“What fresh hell is this?” Dred asked as he stalked their surroundings, searching for cock sign.

“Merlin sent me instead,” Tristan answered.

“For what? To tell me who killed you? I figured it was the lamia.”

“Yeah, I can’t answer any questions about that.”

“Then why are you here?” Dred was genuinely confused.

“The birds. The bees. Middy. Unless you’d rather talk to the cock?” Tristan shrugged as if it made no never-mind to him one way or the other.

“I don’t ever need to talk to the cock again,” Dred assured him.

“Here’s the thing. It’s great that you married her. Fantas-tic. You know she loves you, right?”

“She may have mentioned it.”

“It’s not just the potion, man. She really loves you. She’d die for you.” Tristan said this last as if it were a benediction.

“Would you do the same for her?”

“Yes,” he answered with no hesitation. “The world is definitely a better place with her in it. So, yeah, I’d trade my spot for hers.”

“Still bloody cavalier! I’m trying to tell you something and you’re not hearing me.”

“Try again?” Dred raised a brow.

“Merlin fuck!” Tristan reached out his hands, presumably to shake some sense into Dred, but seemed to think better of it. “Listen to me very carefully, Shadowins. I’m going to use small words. Tell the witch that you love her.”