Page 12 of The Guardian's Curse

Mrow?

A black blur ran out of her bedroom, then froze in the middle of the open living room. Magneto’s baleful yellow eyes stared up at Elliott. “Hey there, kitty,” he said, beckoning with one finger.

Magneto’s tail flicked rapidly as he let out a low growl. Good boy.

“Come here, Maggie,” she said, her voice shaking. Despite his usual contrary personality, the little black cat came running. She cradled him to her chest. “Look, you need to leave. I’m not interested in working for the Casteron. And you being a creep isn’t helping your case.”

His eyes narrowed. “All I’m asking is for a meeting. Cristiano is willing to pay you way more than the Auberon. Name your price.”

“I said no,” she said sharply. “Now leave.”

He sighed and dusted off his knees as he stood. “I was really hoping that you would be more reasonable. I told them that you were friendly but you’ve obviously changed. Now I have to tell them that you’re uncooperative.”

Her eyes drifted to the bottle of cheap Moscato on the counter. It was supposed to be her treat with her sushi. Elliott was about to get himself a generous helping.

Please don’t burn the place down, she prayed as she made her plan. Her arm tightened around Magneto, and he let out a little chirp of displeasure. His tail whipped against her arm, but she kept him tucked tight like a quarterback on a touchdown run.

With a deep breath, Shoshanna thrust one hand out and made a rapid twisting gesture. Fiery red tendrils of magic twined around her fingers. “Mettrez à feu,” she exclaimed in French.

Like an arrow shot from a bow, a thin stream of flame materialized from her palm. It zoomed toward Elliott. The backlash of power licked through her, like she’d gulped down burning gasoline. He let out a terrible roar of pain, but she didn’t look back. She grabbed the bottle of wine and sprinted for the hall.

His hand fisted into her shirt and yanked her back. She screamed and smashed the bottle against the counter, then swiped at Elliott with the jagged glass. He bellowed in pain and released her. Without looking back, she bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door.

As soon as she was in the bathroom, Magneto wriggled out of her arms in a flurry of claws, leaving a thin scratch down her arm. From behind the toilet, he glared at her with his ears laid back.

The door shook in its frame. Bracing her left hand on the door, she used her right hand to trace another symbol, Weaving the tiny strands of magic into a simple sigil. “N’entrez pas,” she said. A glowing sigil ignited against the wood. Another wave of backlash hit her, clamping like a vise around her belly. She couldn’t do much more before she was tapped out.

Elliott pounded on the door, then went quiet. The silence was shattered by the terrible wrenching sound of shearing metal and splintering wood. He tore the door clean off its hinges, but her sigil still hung in the doorway. Blood trickled down his slashed cheek and onto the burnt crater in his shoulder. Fangs out, eyes red, his expression was pure murder.

She just stared at him as she swiped through her phone contacts. Just under a long text message chain with her best friend Ruby was a curt text from Dominic, with just the letter D.

One ring. Nothing. Two.

Fuck.

He was probably fangs deep in some veravin draining her dry, and—

“This is Dominic.”

She nearly wept with relief. “Hi Dominic. It’s Shoshanna York,” she said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt. Elliott’s head tilted. “I have an uninvited guest from the Casteron Court in my apartment. He doesn’t believe that I’m under your protection.”

In the silence that followed, she aged ten years. Back me up. Please. “Put me on speaker.”

“Shoshanna, really?” Elliott complained. “All these dramatics are unnecessary.”

“I know you can hear me,” Dominic said, his deep voice issuing from her phone. “If you’re still there when I arrive, I will let you crawl away with a message for your Baron. However, I assure you that you will wish I had simply killed you instead.” His voice was eerily calm. “Shoshanna?”

“Yeah?”

“If he tries to bite you or make you drink from him, put your thumbs in his eye sockets and don’t stop until they rupture,” he said, as calmly as he’d told her that she needed to replace her battery in her car. Elliott took a tentative step back, then disappeared. “Someone’s coming.”

She clutched the phone tightly as Dominic hung up. It was silent for a few seconds, then came a telltale rattle of cellophane from the kitchen.

“Oh God,” she murmured. Another rattle, then the tiny chirp of a fat cat who was accustomed to chowing down on treats when his human got home. A black ball of fur shot past her. She bounded for the door, then hesitated before crossing the sigil.

Elliott stood at the end of the hall with the cat tucked under his arm, one hand buried in his scruff. The cat’s tail whipped back and forth violently. “This is so juvenile,” he said. “Come out and talk.”

“Just put him down,” she said. “You’re not doing much to win me over by threatening my cat.”

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