The Witch's Quest

Why was he worried about annoying her? He had no stake in whether or not she liked or hated him. All that mattered was she had a plan to help him get back his wings.

“Just water, please.”

She quirked a brow. Judging him. Whatever.

“Fine. I think we should collect the ingredients in the order I’ve written them for you.” She filled a glass of water from the tap and handed it to him. “You know of any werewolves looking to donate a claw?”

“Not willingly. But Trouble does have a beef with a nasty bastard who keeps trying to mark my brother’s territory as his own. I could ask him about it. And if you know Trouble...” And he knew she did.

“The guy likes a good fight.”

“Always.” And that was enough mention of his oldest brother. “So, once we get all these things and you invoke the spell, what, exactly, do we do in Faery?”

“Uh, find your wings?”

He stared at her for the few moments he thought it would take for her to rationalize that insane statement. But in the process, Kelyn got lost in a shimmery brown gleam. Her eyes twinkled like stars during twilight. It couldn’t be real. He’d never seen such brilliant eyes before.

The witch snapped her fingers before his face, rudely bringing him up from what he realized was an openmouthed gape. “Uh...”

“You don’t want to find your wings?”

“I do, but Faery is immense. It’s larger than...well, the world, I’m sure.”

“It’s another realm. I get that. But the reason I chose this spell over another that also opened a portal is that this one homes us in on the item we seek. If all goes well, we should walk in. See the wings. Grab them. And get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Sounds too easy.”

“Sounds like a fun ride on the wild side.” She pulled open the fridge door and took out a beer, twisted off the cap and tossed that in a mason jar half-filled with bottle caps. The brown beer bottle sported the Decadent Dames label on the side. “So why don’t you give Trouble a call?”

“Why don’t you?” Kelyn asked.

Valor slammed the bottle on the counter. And he immediately regretted his accusing tone. “What do you think went on between your brother and me? Because if you think anything beyond friendship happened—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He cut her off because he didn’t want to know. “You and I? We’re just working together toward a common goal. What you do with your free time is not my business.”

“You make it sound as if it bothers you. I can be friends with your family, Kelyn. I’m friends with Blade, too. And Daisy Blu. So get over yourself and don’t get your wings in such a twist.” She tilted back a swallow and then held the bottle to her chest. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You don’t have any, uh...”

“Valor.” Kelyn reached across the counter and grasped her hand, which startled her so much she set down the beer. “We’re good.”

“How can you say that?”

“I just did. Two words. We’re. Good. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t need to apologize. What happened was a result of a choice I made. And only I can live with that. You don’t get to share that with me. And while it pretty much knocked the wind out of my sails, I’m still here. And I’m doing something about it now. So if you want to help me, then do your witchy thing and stop trying to take the credit for something you didn’t do.”

“I...” She exhaled heavily.

It had been difficult to say all that. Because really? Part of Kelyn did blame the witch. If she hadn’t been in the Darkwood in the first place... But the wise, logical part of him knew that he’d had total control over what had happened in the forest that day four months earlier. And he was no man to put the blame on anyone else.

“Fine. I can do that. I mean, I want to do that,” she said. “But please have patience with me because it’s much easier to say than to do.”

“I get that.”

“I like you, Kelyn. You’re a good guy. Faery. How are you without your wings? I need to know.”

“I’m the same as ever. Except I can’t fly, can’t shift to small shape and I’ve the strength of a regular human man now. Otherwise? Peachy.”

She began to frown, but he put up an admonishing finger. “Forward. For both of us. Okay?” He offered a hand for her to shake.

Valor shook it. “Deal. You call your brother. Let’s go kick some werewolf ass.”

“I’m cool with that—what?”

The rhythmic hum of the vacuum alerted Kelyn to the robotic disk that glided toward the kitchen. And on the back of the thing sat a plush gray cat. It cast a golden gaze up at Kelyn as it rode by, calm and regal upon its modern-day carriage.

Kelyn tugged up his leg in a protective move. “Seriously?”

“That’s Mooshi,” Valor said. “I told you the cat does the cleaning. He can ride that thing through the whole place. What’s wrong? You don’t like cats?”

“They’re not my favorite critters.” Kelyn again caught the cat’s eye, but he read its expression as more of an I’m-bored-what-else-is-there-to-do? look than anything else. “Mooshi, master and commander of the hardwood seas. Who’da thought?”

* * *

Valor had suggested Kelyn first ask his brothers Trouble and Stryke if either wanted to donate a claw, but realized the error of her ways when the faery cast her a horrified gape. Right. That would be like cutting off a man’s fingernail. But really? It was for a good cause. What was one fingernail when compared to a man’s reason for existence?

So, instead, they decided to track down the werewolf Borse Magnuson, who was known as an all-around asshole and resident idiot. A few years ago he’d been involved in blood games, pitting starving vampires against one another in death matches. Creed Saint-Pierre, Kelyn’s grandfather, had put an end to most of those illegal gaming dens. Now, lately, Borse had been trying to establish territory on Trouble’s property to the north of Tangle Lake.

So their path led them to the oldest Saint-Pierre brother. And everything Valor read in Kelyn’s body language as he neared his brother told her they were not right. She and Trouble, that was. Trouble told them to stop by the local gym and he met them as he was exiting the building. He wandered over to his monster Ford truck, painted in olive camo and sporting silver wolves on the mud flaps.

Valor went to bump fists with Trouble, but the man didn’t oblige her. Right. Not speaking to her since Kelyn’s wings had been taken. She caught Kelyn’s tightened expression. What? Did the guy think she’d gotten it on with his brother? And why did that matter to him? Oh.

Assuming a casual stance, Valor grabbed her thick hair and, corralling it into a ponytail, swished it over her shoulder as a distraction from what she felt was a blush riding up her neck. Did Kelyn have some kind of thing for her? He’d mentioned as much in the Darkwood that dreadful night. He couldn’t possibly. She was the witch who had changed his life for the worse.

And yet. There was something she had missed. And why hadn’t she realized that until right now?

Bad attraction vibes, girl. So terrible at picking up on that one.

“You two are after Borse?” Trouble smacked a fist into his palm. “I want in.”

“Trouble, this isn’t a matter with which we need help. I just need some info on the guy. Weaknesses. Flaws. Favorite drinking holes.”

“Wait, Kelyn.” Much as she didn’t want to pit brother against brother, Valor felt having a werewolf in the mix could help. And with Kelyn’s strength waning? “Did you tell him why we’re working together?”

Kelyn crossed his arms, lifting his chin defiantly. When he went all serious, two frown lines appeared between his eyebrows.

No, he hadn’t told his brother anything. And what kind of tension was she picking up on now? Yes, there was definitely something she had missed between herself and Kelyn.