“Yes. I needed a contract signed by a dead man.”
Beck doesn’t elaborate on his statement, and Trinity shoots me a vaguely horrified look. I just pat her knee, letting a small smile curve my lips.
I know my brother, and as greedy as he is, he’s also surprisingly honorable. It’s less because of any inherent goodness in him and more a way for him to keep things interesting for himself, I think—much like a professional golfer might give himself a handicap when playing against a less skilled opponent. My brother wants to have to work to win, but that gets harder and harder the longer he plays the game. So he has to keep finding new ways to challenge himself.
Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the curb in front of a run-down looking Chinese food place. Ugly neon lights flash in the windows, and heavy curtains hide the inside from view. When we step out of the car, the heavy stench of burnt cooking oil makes me gag. It’s a good thing I know this is just a front for a witch, or I’d be tempted to call the health department and report this place.
Beck pushes open the door, and a bell above his head gives a little chime. We all follow him inside, Nix bitching under his breath as he helps Ford carry the body into the shop, the corpse’s arms draped over their shoulders.
“Yes? What is it? What do you need?”
The questions come one after another in such a quick succession that they sound like a single question instead of several. A white-haired woman walks out from the back as we enter a small antechamber that appears to be some sort of waiting area.
She obviously never lets non-supernaturals even get past the door, because there’s been no attempt made to make the inside look like a restaurant. Stuffed animal heads line the walls, creatures no one would see in any human hunter’s lodge, and red velvet seems to be everywhere—adorning the walls, the furniture, the light fixtures.
“We have a dead body that we need something from. We need to reverse a spell this guy performed. He opened a portal, and we want to close it,” Beckett tells her, getting right down to the heart of the matter like the businessman he is. “Can you help us?”
“Yes, yes, I can help. That’s just the kind of thing I do. Morrigan can do this, you came to the right place.”
The woman is a little taller than Trinity, and a lot bonier. Her cheekbones stand out starkly on her pale face, and her stark black dress makes her pallid features seem even more washed out.
Her head bobs from side to side as she steps forward, dragging a finger down the side of the dead demon’s face. The band securing the mask to his head snaps under her sharp fingernail, tumbling to the floor and revealing the man’s features. Foam still clings to the corners of his mouth, and his lips are a dark color, almost black.
“Ah. Violent death.” She clucks her tongue. “Painful.”
Trinity shivers beside me, and I rest my hand at the small of her back. She leans toward me; I can’t tell if the movement is conscious or unconscious, but I’m surprised by the protective impulse that rises inside me in response.
“Yeah. It was.” Ford glares at the witch. “Very painful. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“More difficult to revive a corpse that died violently.” Morrigan clicks her tongue again, an insect-like noise. “Takes more time, more effort. But it can be done.”
“Then do it.” Ford practically drops the corpse into a chair near the door, and the body slumps over, already stiffening a little in death.
“Ah…” Morrigan smiles, her gaze sweeping over all of us. “Also takes more payment.”
“We can pay. Name your price.”
The fact that Beckett isn’t bothering to negotiate with this woman is a clear sign of how badly he wants this done. There’s almost no amount of money she could name that would even put a dent in my brother’s wealth, but under normal circumstances, he’d haggle with her just on principle.
Morrigan tilts her head back and forth like a pendulum swaying. “Let’s see, let’s see. A corpse, a demon corpse. A violent death, a reviving potion to undo a spell. That will be expensive, very expensive.”
“Your price. Name it,” Beckett repeats, annoyance creeping into his tone.
The death witch wrinkles her nose, glancing up at my brother as if she forgot he was here. She gazes at him for a second, as if mentally calculating his worth. Then she scrunches up her nose again and swivels her head to take in the rest of us.
Her gaze alights on Trin, and she gives a sharp-toothed smile.
“Not money. I have money, don’t need more. In payment for this spell, I want her.”
One bony finger points straight at Trinity.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Trinity
Um, what?
The entire atmosphere in the little shop’s entrance seems to shift as silence follows on the heels of her declaration.
I’ve been creeped out since the moment we stepped through the door. Although Morrigan isn’t exactly covering herself in skulls, there’s something very unsettling about her, something that makes my spine squirm when she looks at me.
It feels like spiders are crawling over my skin, and I’m torn between conflicting impulses to run, to fight, or to curl up in the corner in a ball like you’re supposed to do in the event of a bear attack.
She doesn’t want money as a payment. Not even some insane sum from these uber-wealthy supernaturals.
Nope.
She wants me.
My stomach tightens into a hard knot, and I feel ice cold.
“No. Trinity is not a bargaining chip,” Beckett says sharply. “She’s not up for trade.”
My eyes fly wide, and I turn quickly to look at him in surprise. As I do, I notice that Ford looks equally murderous, his arms folded, while Remington and Phoenix close ranks around me just like they did when the demon bit down on the magic poison capsule back at the casino.
Even though fear is still crawling through my veins, a little starburst of warmth bursts in my chest.
I would’ve thought they’d all be glad to get rid of me. None of them seem to have any fondness for angels, or me specifically. They’ve been stuck with me because we’ve all got the same objective, but if they hand me over to this witch, they can go and deal with the portal on their own without a pesky angel sidekick.
But they don’t look relieved at all.
Instead, they all look furious.
Could it be that they actually care what happens to me?
That doesn’t make any sense. Remington does seem to like me a little, although it’s hard to tell if that’s real or just his sin—his feeling of home—seducing me. But the others? No way. Ford kissed me like he wants to destroy me, Phoenix finds me annoying because I dragged him out of his peaceful life in his bunker, and Beckett’s got this hot and cold thing going on that leaves me reeling.
I do owe two of them favors though. If I’m gone, they can say bye-bye to an IOU from an angel.
Morrigan looks around at us, smoothing out her dark skirts. “I don’t mean all of her. Now, now, boys. Do calm yourselves.” She seems amused by their reaction, and she hasn’t wilted at all beneath the combined force of their glares. “I only want some of her blood. Angel blood, yes? Very powerful magic is done with such blood. Only a little. I will only need to take a little.”