Your Lycan or Mine? (Broken Heart Book 14) (8 page)

“
I
’M SO NOT
in the mood to kill you.”

“Terrific,” said the same Irish voice of a female. “I’m not in the mood to die.”

Sighing, Ash turned and looked down at the tiny woman standing next to her. The top of her head barely reached Ash’s hip. She had a ton of red, curly hair, creamy skin, and eyes as green as summer grass. She wore Converse sneakers, faded jeans, and a T-shirt touting ‘Van Halen Rules.’

“What are you? A midget?”

“If’n I was, I surely wouldn’t like your terminology. Don’t you know that humans with dwarfism like to be called ‘little people’?”

Being politically correct was the least of Ash’s worries. “You’re not human.”

“Thank Brigid for that! I’m a fairy, thank you very much.”

Terrific. Ash unlocked the door and swung it open. “Go away.”Ash went into the hotel room. She flicked on the light, which cast a dim, yellow glow from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling.

The room didn’t boast any amenities. Hell, not even the antiquated television sitting on the dresser worked. The twin beds were hard as rocks. The chair in the corner had stuffing popping out of several tears.

“Is this where you live then?”

“Nope,” said Ash, staring at Jak.

“You lived in this city once, did you not?”

“Why do you care?”

The fairy shrugged, obviously not offended by Ash’s curt behavior. She perched on the edge of the ugly chair.

Ash took off her jacket and tossed it onto the bed.

Jak examined her black, skin-tight pants tucked into sturdy black boots and her pink tank top. Hey, she might kick ass for a living, but she was still a girl.

“I recognize Bernie’s work. Not many people get to wear his creations.” Her gaze flicked to the jacket. “Did he make that, too?”

Ash shrugged. Jak had a keen eye. Her friend and literal fashion wizard Bernie made all of Ash’s clothes. He knew how to make magical materials that wouldn’t cut, burn, tear, or restrict. The jacket was one-of-a-kind. It had a dozen pockets. She could hide anything, huge or tiny, in them. They all offered endless storage, and the cloth stretched to accommodate just about any object.

Ash sat on the corner of the bed. “What do you want?”

Jak’s gaze flitted around the terrible room as she picked at a thread on her jeans. The woman’s nervousness was so great that it filtered through Ash’s psychic shields. Jak played a good game, but nobody who liked living was completely unafraid of Ash. It was one thing to die. It was quite another to have your essence stolen and stored inside a being with the ability to assume your form. For creatures unfortunate enough to be absorbed by Ash, there was no afterlife. “Have you ever taken the soul of a fairy?”

“Yes.” Ash felt a flicker of guilt, but she got over it. Most people born on the Earth got to choose what kind of lives they had. They went to school or traveled or took jobs and raised families. They worried about things like love and happiness and loss and sorrow. But for those few who were like Ash, there was never a choice. Sometimes, you were born into your destiny.

She couldn’t change the fact that she was a soul shifter. But she had finally realized she could change who she worked for and how she lived the rest of her life. She would never have a family or a husband or a nine-to-five job. She would never be normal, never be anything other than what she’d been born. But how she used her gift was her choice, and hers alone.

Jak pursed her lips. “I like to think that you took those who needed taken. That maybe the Convocation’s mission to keep the balance meant that you prevailed over evil.” Her gaze met Ash’s. “But that’s probably not true, is it? If’n it was, why leave the service of those watching over the magic in this world?”

“What does it matter? The Convocation doesn’t exist anymore,” Ash lied. She was all too aware of their existence since Jarod’s introduction. Frankly, she wasn’t in the mood to play conversational ping-pong. Working for the Convocation meant maintaining the balance both ways. It wasn’t very often that Ash had been sent to take down beings on the side of good. But whoever the Convocation marked, she’d taken down—good or bad.

“There are those among us that would like to see you dead.”

“I’m aware.”

The door flew open. Nor posed in the doorway, holding a paper bag in one arm and a bag of ice in the other. “I’m ba-ack!” He looked at the fairy and grinned, obviously delighted. “Yay! We have company. Drink?”

“None for me, thanks,” said Jak.

Ash held up two fingers. “I’ll have a double.”

Nor strode to the dresser and unpacked everything needed to make a decent drink.

Jak watched Ash as if she could determine what kind of thoughts bounced around in her head. The fairy nodded, as if she’d made a decision. “I’m offering my services to you, Ash the Destroyer.”

“I don’t want your services.”

“Now, wait a minute.” Nor turned and handed a red cup to Ash. “It’s a triple.” Nor took his drink and sat next to Ash. “What kind of services? Spa? Massage? Barista?”

“I’m a healer. I know the ways of fixing spirit, body, an’ mind.”

“Oh,” said Nor. He sipped from his cup. “Are you sure don’t offer massages?”

“I know how to make muscle relaxers that’ll make you feel like warm butter.”

“I like her,” Nor said to Ash.

Ash rolled her eyes. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you, Jak?”

“You protect me,” said Jak, ignoring Ash’s question. “I’ll protect you and those you deem worthy from the ills that plague this mortal plane.”

Ash considered Jak’s proposal. She couldn’t take it, or the fae, at face value. Fairies were tricky beings, and there was nothing they loved more than getting one over on their enemies. Or even their friends.

“I can help you find your souls, too.”

Ash shook her head. “We live in Las Vegas. Finding souls isn’t a problem.”

“What’s better?” asked Jak. “Going out to get your souls, or having ‘em delivered?”

“Everybody loves take-out,” agreed Nor.

Ash considered Jak’s proposal. The problem with being a soul shifter, other than being the only one in existence, was that once she imbibed her first living essence, she had to take a soul every ninety days. She could take more, but not less, otherwise, she degenerated. She was immortal in the sense that she could live forever. But she was not indestructible. She could be killed.

Long ago, there had been more soul shifters. Their need to take essences and their ability to assume the forms of those whose souls were devoured absolutely terrified sentient beings. Human and parakind alike had deemed them evil and hunted every last one to extinction.

Supposedly.

Her existence was an anomaly.

Ash’s gaze strayed to Jak, who waited patiently. Fairies weren’t liars, but they knew how to bend the truth. She crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze. What was Jak’s real angle?

“I can bake,” said Jak.

Nor perked up.

Jak noticed Nor’s sudden attention and immediately understood he was the weak link. The fairy went in for the kill. “Cupcakes, cream puffs, apple pies, chocolate cake, quiches, and the best waffles you’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m drooling. Oh, let’s keep her, Ash,” said Nor. “Please?”

“Your word is your bond, soul shifter. Everyone knows that you never break a promise. Do we have a deal?”

“Hang on. What am I protecting you from?” asked Ash.

“Everything.”

“For how long?”

Jak nibbled her lower lip. “The next hundred years.”

“If I wanted to be stuck with someone for a hundred years, I’d marry a vampire.”

Jak’s laughter tinkled like tiny ringing bells. “I’m much better company than a
deamhan fola.
”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Ash took a big gulp of bourbon, appreciating the smooth burn that warmed her stomach.

“A hundred years,” said Jak. “You protect me. I use my gifts to help you.”

“The gift of baking, too, right? I want carbs, Ash.” Nor fluttered his eyelashes. “I’m a werewolf with needs, you know.”

Jak held out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Those better be damned good waffles,” she muttered, shaking the fae’s hand.

Nor let out a “squeee” and hugged the fairy. “You’re going to love Las Vegas.”

“
Y
OU AND YOUR
daughter should learn not to sneak up on people.”

“Noted.” He stared at her. She stared back. He broke eye contact first and let his gaze bounce around the scuzzy hotel room.

“Quite a place you got here.”

“I don’t do fancy.”

Ash looked at the bed across from hers and saw Margaret asleep.

“You told Maggie that Sarah was dead.”

“She asked me, I told her.”

“Yeah, well, you just don’t tell a kid that her mom’s dead.”

“I do a lot of things, Rick, but I don’t lie.” Ash got off the bed and stretched. Her pink jacket lay discarded on a nearby chair. The great thing about her jacket was that no one else could wear it. In fact, thanks to Bernie’s spellwork, most people were unconsciously repelled by it.

“What’s the deal with your daughter, anyway?”

His gaze flicked away then returned. “What do you mean?”

“She can trigger spells and see what’s beyond the senses of most humans.”

His gaze was hard now. “You talk about magic like it’s real.”

“I didn’t say magic. You did.” She put on her jacket and grabbed her boots. “Why would demons attack your family?”

“Demons.” Rick shook his head. “We were making dinner. Maggie had just finished her bath and was picking out a storybook. I smelled this … Jesus, I don’t know … like something rotten. Something burning. Everything in the kitchen went wild. I heard maniacal laughter then the knives flew off the counter and…”

He didn’t finish, but he looked devastated. Waking to a life ruined was a feeling she knew all too well.

Ash finished putting on her boots and opened the top dresser drawer to retrieve her weapons. As she loaded her belt with knives and two of her favorite guns, she said, “There’s something about your little girl, Rick. They were after her.” Ash knew the timing of her return to her old house and the attack on the Huntsons was not coincidental. She just didn’t know why the demons would go after Margaret.

“Get the hell out of town. Whatever life you had here is over.”

“Like yours, Natasha?”

“My name is Ash.” So, he’d recognized her. Goody for him. “Stay off the grid. No credit cards, no ATMs, no cell phones, no contact with anyone. She pulled a glittering silver card out of another pocket. “Contact this man, tell him I sent you. Kael owes me a solid. He’ll get you and Maggie everything you need to start over.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“If you want to keep your daughter safe, you’ll take my advice.”

“Okay.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry about your parents, but I’m glad you survived.”

“If you want to call it that.” Ash zipped up her jacket, suddenly aware of her lack of empathy at his loss. She stared at Rick for a moment. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

The silence that stretched between them was filled with seven kinds of misery. She had spent so long shoving down her feelings, that a moment like this one felt like getting filleted by a dull knife. Ash turned toward the door.

Rick grabbed her arm and swung her around. “Where are you going?” There was almost a plea in the question.

She didn’t know if it was his grief, his fear for his daughter, or the cute dimple in his chin, but imprudently she confessed, “That night at the party, I wanted to kiss you. I always regretted not doing it.” With the heat of his hand still on her arm, she leaned in, closing the space between them, and pressed her lips to his.

Startled, he returned her kiss, but she knew his response wasn’t about attraction or lost love or even about regret. It was anguish. It was the need for connection. It was, she supposed, penance.

When she stepped back, he looked so wounded that she wished she hadn’t been so damned impulsive. The man had obviously loved his wife and grappled with her loss. Everything he knew was gone.

“Would it make you feel better to slap me?” she asked softly.

He laughed, and the darkness cleared from his eyes. “No, but thanks.”

“Take care of yourself.” Once again, she turned to go.

“I wish you wouldn’t leave.” His eyes cut to his sleeping daughter.

“The faster I get away from you, the better chances you have.” Ash couldn’t face the kid. The loss of her mother would either make Margaret stronger or break her completely. Ash bet on stronger. “Say good-bye to her for me.”

“Natasha?”

She turned and looked over her shoulder.

Rick held up the business card. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “Good luck.”