The Cat's Meow (7 page)

While so many concerns about him remained, when I looked at him, no dishonesty showed there. My mind told me one thing, but my melting body said his interest in me was entirely personal. Maybe he didn’t grill me to gather evidence to ruin my life, but because he wanted to know me and understand my actions.

The truth in his eyes, the warmth in his features, I couldn’t ignore. But at his sly grin and the flicker of arousal deepening his dark eyes, I blinked back into focus. To offset my reaction, I snapped, “Why does
that
shock you?” He was experienced—I didn’t doubt that. “You’ve never heard of a witch capable of such magic?”

He shook his head, dimming his scorching expression. “I’ve never seen a witch awaken the dead, especially once the soul has been stolen by a demon.”

True enough—I had altered the spell a while back for my own personal use since it lacked strength. He probably hadn’t seen it done because it was
my
spell. I figured other witches had improvised their magic too. As experienced as he seemed, it did surprise me that he’d never witnessed a similar spell, but part of me did a little dance. I had hoped this spell would impress him, and it undeniably had.

“Well, a soul can’t be stripped in its entirety,” I explained. “The person’s life force is sucked away and that’s what a demon feeds on—the energy of one’s soul—but their essence, the core of who they are, is protected by the Goddess.
That
cannot be stolen.”

His eyes searched mine. “Have you done such a spell before?”

I shrugged, wondering how truthful to be, but figured if the spell failed then I needed a reason for it. “I’ve never needed to, so we have to see what happens. Besides, Peyton sensed the ghost, which means whatever the demon could steal, he did. Whatever he couldn’t, as in the center of a person, their emotions, the goodness in them, he left behind. That’s what I’ll tap into.”

“Yes, I saw the spell you did there.” His eyes became inquisitive. “What are you planning to do?”

Good question.
I knew enough that I had to be in a very safe place for this spell because of how vulnerable it left me. In fact, it made me glad Kale was with me. If the warlock responsible knew I searched for him and wanted to find me first, the spell would leave me defenseless against him.

First things first… “I can’t do the ‘talking’
here.”

“All right.” Kale tucked his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small jar and matches. He sprinkled the clear liquid along the body and the strong scent of an accelerant filled my nose. With a flick of a match, he threw it at the body and flames erupted. “Where are we off to?”

His lack of emotion while he burned the body confirmed that he had dealt with dead bodies far more often than I had, since I would’ve buried the man. His method was faster and more efficient, but not my way by any means.

The accelerant swept the fire over the body so quickly, I assumed it had to be magic-based, and didn’t doubt that within minutes the body would be gone.

One thing about his method still concerned me. “What about the ashes, though? Humans may find them.” It saddened me when a human died and no evidence of their death remained since their loved ones would never have answers. The victim would forever be declared a missing person, but it was an ugly necessity because it kept the magical world safe.

Kale shook his head, staring down at the body in flames. “The magic in the liquid will turn whatever is left into dirt. Even if found, no one will notice it.”

“Oh.” What else could I say? I supposed that was somewhat neat and also handy. Maybe I needed to make some of that accelerant—it would save me digging a hole, and a whole lot of sweat.

“Where are we off to, then?” Kale repeated.

I said a silent prayer to the Goddess to carry this spirit home after I talked to him, and then I tore away from the flames and tried not to notice the scent of burned flesh. “To my bedroom.”

One sleek eyebrow lifted. “Your bedroom?”

I wasn’t blind to the smolder crossing his features, nor was I deaf to his lowered tone, but with the body burning below, mixed with the worry over the spell ahead of me, my body reacted as if it’d been thrown into a cold lake. “Do you plan to break the promise to Peyton to watch over me?”

“No.”

“Then come on.” I strode by him and cringed at the nasty smell I never would forget. “It’s time to get between the sheets.”

Chapter Six

Charleston might be a busy city in the downtown core, but the garden in my backyard was total serenity. A fine display of irises, tulips, and snake’s head fritillary were all in bloom and had been planted by my own hands. The garden had taken a month to plan to ensure that each month new flowers bloomed. The hard work paid off; it shone with beauty and always seemed alive.

“You’ve sure got something here,” Kale said, striding behind me along the path weaving its way through the flowers.

His eyes twinkled as he scanned the grounds.
Interesting.
Warlocks lacked a connection to Mother Earth, or so I thought, since they didn’t worship the Goddess. He seemed to have an appreciation for my garden as he drew in deep breaths.

Not only was he mysterious and elusive, but a deeper level existed to this warlock. To my frustration, it only made me want to know more about him, which was wrong, or so I told myself as I hurried through the garden. I needed to keep a level head and remind myself of my rules
.
I didn’t pursue warlocks or care to get to know them on any personal level—but then why did I want to with him?

Stop it, Libby! Focus!
“You’re a strange warlock,” I whispered under my breath.

He snorted, clearly hearing me. “From what I’ve seen on your views of warlocks, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

My cheeks warmed but I didn’t look back to allow him to see it. I followed the path as it curved to the right, leading me to the herb garden. There, I plucked out a few bay leaves before I continued on the path that led to the back door of my house.

Kale followed me through the door. “What’s your plan?”

“Why do you want to know?”

A low curse sounded behind me before the door shut, and when I turned back to Kale, he was frowning at me. He took the final steps to reach me, staring down with a look that might unnerve some. “You know, most witches would enjoy that a warlock was impressed by them and wanted to know more about what they do.”

Yeah, witches who weren’t currently thinking they were being tested by said warlock. “Yes, well, I’m not like
most
witches.”

His mouth twitched. “I happen to agree with you.”

Locked in his stare, I had to wonder if his interest was as simple as he said. Did he genuinely want to know more about me, or was he doing it to exploit me? I wanted to believe him and hoped he
was
impressed by me, but how could I believe him? He still hadn’t given me a straight answer for why he was here…or one that I believed. “Answer me this—you have no hidden agenda for why you’re asking?”

His head dipped down to mine. “Right now, it’s a personal curiosity, Libby. Nothing more.”

A rush of heat whipped like hot lava through my veins, lingering low in my body at his smooth voice. Oh no, I wouldn’t allow him to do his melt-me-into-a-puddle trick again considering he said
right now
, which meant it wasn’t always personal. I turned away in haste. Regardless, I did have to prove something to him, didn’t I? “I’ll conjure a spirit-summoning spell and the ghost will come into my dream.”

I went straight for my wooden hutch, taking a bowl, a dream pillow, mugwort, wormwood, and gardenia off the bottom shelf. Then I placed the ingredients on top of the large island in the middle of the kitchen.

Kale settled in across from me and leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “He’ll make contact in your dream, then?”

“Where else would I talk to a ghost? I’m not a necromancer.” I glanced at him and he inclined his head in agreement so I continued. “Dreams are a perfect safe place to converse with the dead, and since the ghost lingered, he doesn’t need to be pulled out from the beyond.” I sorted the ingredients and placed them in the correct order for the spell. “I can have a chat with him, then wake up, and the job is done.”

“Are you in any danger doing this spell?” Kale asked as I combined the bay leaves and other herbs in the small bowl.

When I absorbed his question, I froze and lifted my head, spotting his impressively soft eyes. “
You
sound worried?”
And look it too.
Not to say I didn’t mind his concern. In fact, I liked it more than I thought suitable. But again, this tough warlock appeared interested in more than just my spells. When had a warlock ever showed a moment of concern for me? Well, Bryon had while we were together, but of course it couldn’t have been real since in the end he royally screwed me over. The answer made his reaction all the more peculiar since I couldn’t recall a single time.

“Is it so hard to believe I want to ensure you are safe?” His expression firmed, and his voice sharpened. “I’m growing tired of having to explain my motivations.”

“Well, I’m growing tired of your evasiveness, so we’re even.” I believed him, but it seemed like he held back on his reasoning. He didn’t have a duty to keep me safe—he came to Charleston to discover who killed the cats, or to gather information on me for my coven to burn me at the stake. I still hadn’t decided which way I leaned. But maybe his vow meant more to him, and now since the danger intensified, so did his need to ensure that I remained safe.

Maybe…

I stuffed all the ingredients into the red silk dream pillow and tightened the drawstring. “As for your question, no, I’m not in any danger.” I shrugged—it wasn’t exactly true, because I honestly had no idea what would happen with this spell. “Or so I suspect, since I’ve never done this before.”

“Those odds aren’t great considering you’re in this dream alone.” The concern somehow deepened in the depths of his eyes as he frowned at me, then at the dream pillow. “
That
is going to help you converse with the dead?”

Why couldn’t Kale just stick to the behavior that irritated me, instead of doing sweet things like thinking about my safety? Especially since it gave weight to the fact that he, at the moment, had made it personal. “It’s one step to the process, yes.” I approached the fridge, opened the door, and took out the bottle of water. “Step two, moon potion.” When I turned to Kale, he eyed the water as if it were poison, and I laughed. “It’s just water.”

“Plain water?”

“Yes, but charged by the moon.” I took a glass out of the cabinet, filled it, and then chugged half of it down, welcoming the pause to examine him. The time had come to dig a little deeper into his lack of knowledge to determine if it was fake, to have me explain my spells, or if he genuinely didn’t know. “You know, for an experienced warlock, your knowledge of spells sucks.” I seemed to surprise him…a lot. Sure, I altered spells to my preference and even these spells were new to me, but many witches did the same to fit their connection to the Goddess.

He shifted on his feet. “It’s not common for me to work side-by-side with a witch.” His blank expression gave nothing away, nor did his flat tone. “But the witches I have seen haven’t conjured the spells you’ve done.”

A compliment perhaps? Or was it just another way to sidestep my question? “Maybe you should spend more time with witches then, since their assistance solves most cases.”

A sly smile spread across his face. “The only reason?”

“A big part of it.” After another sip of the moon potion, I grabbed a pot and placed it on the stove. “Without the spells you seem so intrigued by, you wouldn’t be able to hunt the killers you do.”

When I turned back to him, his smile had vanished. “You act as if it’s a competition.”

“’Cause it is.” Or maybe it had been since Bryon, I should have said, considering that by all appearances Kale didn’t seem to have that trait. Maybe Kale hid it well. Not like I’d go into any of that with him. To my relief he allowed the subject to drop.

I added some hazelnut oil to the pot and, after it warmed some, I took it off the stove, grabbed up the moon potion, and took a morning glory flower out of my hutch. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kale frowned, at what I didn’t know—the spell ahead of me, or my view of warlocks? Better to leave it alone. The last thing I needed was to argue with him, discover his position of haughtiness, and have to prove myself on a personal level instead of only proving my kick-ass magic.

I headed down the hallway and entered my bedroom. The room replicated the rest of the house, except the walls were a dark purple. I placed the glass and pot on the distressed Tristan nightstand and added the flower to the oil. Removing my corset, I placed it over my chest to cover up and not give Kale a view I didn’t want him to have, since I suspected he’d somehow spin this moment so he owned it. But it made me glad he was there because I had no clue how I would’ve done the next step without him.

As he entered the room, his eyes widened for a split second before they lowered and smoldered. He approached in measured steps, only to stop a few feet away.

With my free hand, I took the pot off the nightstand and offered it to him. “Can you rub the oil on my shoulders and back?”

He glanced over my body, lingering on the corset that covered my breasts but left my stomach exposed, before he looked back into my eyes. “What will this do?”

I fought against my smile, not at all bothered that being half-naked unraveled the tough warlock. Looked good on him since I’d been in the same position way more than I preferred. “It makes my dream sharper, so I’ll remember it when I wake up.”

He considered me a moment and drew in a deep breath through his nose, but then closed the distance between us, took the pot, and scooped up the oil in his hand. “Turn around.”

I complied, and then immediately wished I hadn’t. The moment his warm hand pressed against my back, my eyes fluttered closed and my body liquefied under his touch. While I expected his hands to be firm, they weren’t. His soft caresses brought forth a heat I hadn’t anticipated. Each slide across my skin didn’t seem like a move to apply the oil, but to massage the worry from my muscles.