Page 47 of Wicked Warlock
He looked down at his cut, clutched the hilt of the knife, and yanked it from the tree. He hauled back his arm, ready to let it fly.
I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Hold up.”
“Your friend is too slow.” Maze’s mother stepped out from between the trees. Her hair was a tangled mess of midnight and gray. It was pulled back from her face and fell in a single long twist along the side of her body. Heavy makeup covered her face. Dark coal lined her eyes, bright red rouged her cheeks, and obnoxious red lipstick colored her lips. She shared the same green eyes, pale skin, and dark hair as Maze.
“I’ll show you slow.” Kylian jerked at his arm, but I didn’t let it go. I simply shook my head.
“Fine.” He held the knife out toward her. “But I’m keeping this.”
“Alba. It’s good to see you again.” I turned to face her as she moved closer.
She looked me up and down. “Having a Dustwick here is never a good sign… even if I like you.”
I felt my lips tug into a smile. “Yeah, I missed you too.”
“Why are you here?” She glanced over my shoulder at Kylian. “And with the dark prince? What, my son isn’t dark enough for you?”
I chuckled. “Maze likely already knows I’m here. Which is why we need to hurry. I have business with her.”
Alba’s face fell. “No, any business with her isn’t for a good thing.”
“It never is. Still, it needs to be done.” I was on a path now with only one more task to complete and I would be free. Ready to move to the next level.
“Is there another way? The price…” Her words lilted with the singsong way of speaking that came with her Spanish heritage.
“I’ll pay it. There is no other way.” I placed my hands on my hips and didn’t move. There was nothing more I could say or do. This was where I was, and she needed to take me to the crone or I would figure out another way to get there.
“Mazereil isn’t going to like this.” She crooked her finger at us. “Come.”
She marched across the field toward a line of barren trees. Distorted circus music flooded the air, and I knew we were getting closer. As a child, I was warned against coming here. The Circus of Freaks was to be avoided at all costs. One could sell their soul here if you weren’t careful. Beside me, Kylian thrummed with excitement.
“You good?”
“Looking forward to this.” He watched Alba as she led the way.
A dilapidated merry-go-round groaned and creaked, and a high-pitched squeaking sound pierced my ears. The plastic horses children would ride were falling apart, looking like they were about to die. The carnival was set up to be a tourist trap for humans seeking for thrills and who didn’t always come out alive.
I walked beside Alba, reading the shabby signs hanging from threadbare tents for the exhibits. I wondered what it was like for Maze to grow up here before they dumped him at Warwick with the rest of us. What would he make of the first tent where there were shifters who’d shift into half-wolf form and expose themselves to humans? Illegal. But fascinating. Next was a witch offering psychic readings to humans. Yep, that too is illegal.
Kylian stopped at the witch tent, and she peeked up at him from her table in the doorway. “A future of fire and ice will seal your fate.” She chuckled. “A dark ending for a dark prince.”
Kylian rolled his eyes. “Not the first woman to threaten me.”
Alba gaped at him. “Interesting prophesy.”
“I’ve had worse.” He shrugged.
“You should take heed. She speaks only of what she sees.”
“Like I said, I’ve had worse.” His words were completely unconcerned.
We walked by another booth where a woman was offering fantasy potions that would solve every problem a human could have. Potions to humans—very illegal. Oh, this one was interesting—offering gentleman callers the time of their lives. Succubus—also illegal and dangerous as hell. One of the succubi leaned against one of the supporting poles in the front of her tent. She reminded me of those wenches in the Wild West with her black hair, saloon-girl dress, and heavy makeup.
“You know you’ll have to get permission from him.” Alba motioned to a tent all the way at the back of the line of the other tents.
The sounds of clanking bottles, loud, off-key singing, and partying drifted out from inside the tent. “Bit early, no?”
Alba rolled her eyes. “Is there such thing as time in the world of misfits, whores, and parties?”
