Page 64 of Wicked Bite
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “I know of a witch who can do potions.”
“If you could do that, it would save an immense amount of time.” The computer screen lit with more information from the monitors. He pressed a few buttons, then looked up at me. “The sooner the better.”
“Yeah, we’re going to need more security.” I glanced around at the few armed guards we had at the entrance of the lab.
Sav’s brow furrowed. “What kind of witch is this?”
I sighed and pulled my phone from my pocket to call in a favor I wasn’t ready to ask for. “The kind who lives by the motto stabby stab motherfuckers.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
GRAYSON
I pressed my finger to the mirror I had set up in a private room on the other side of the lab. It rippled under my touch, and I stood there for a moment holding my breath. I’d never asked the queens for anything before, nor had I planned to. Favors were meant to be used only in dire straits, and I was in one hell of a mess. I stepped through the mirror and into the long hallway. The cold seeped into my bones and yet my palms were still damp from nerves. When I woke this morning, I thought my life was destined to be one way forever. But now all that had changed. I was a sire now, and with that came responsibility.
When I reached the end of the hallway, I pressed my hand to the mirror and it moved under my fingers. There she was, the little demon witch who could help my Piper. One of the most powerful and ruthless to ever walk the earth. And yet she had the biggest heart for the people she liked. If she didn’t like someone, well, I was sure their funeral would be lovely. She lay on an extravagant bed. Holding her legs upright, she crossed and uncrossed them at the ankle. It was a four-poster bed made of dark wood. A bright purple comforter was balled in the middle of it. The rest of the room was small and lined with shelves full of supplies.
Her jet-black hair hung over the side of the bed while the rest of it was braided into a half up faux-hawk. She wore black tights and a black dress with a white collar. Combat boots and an array of knives strapped around her body finished off the outfit.
“Ughhh. I’m boredddd.” She rolled to her side. “Let’s go do something.”
“Maze and Tilly told us to wait here,” a man’s voice rumbled from out of view. It was the balm to her impatience.
“I think they were wrong.” She pulled a knife from a holster on her thigh and began to clean her nails with it. “You want to go train?”
“I’d like to give the shoulder a rest today.”
“One little dislocation and no more training. I’ll be gentler next time.” She sighed and rolled onto her back. “I gotta go do something.”
“When I want gentle, I’ll ask for it.” He chuckled. “Until then we are to stay put just like they told us too.”
I stepped through the mirror and into the room. She rolled off the side of the bed and landed on her feet with her knife pointed at my throat. I held still but wasn’t afraid for even a second. Her black eyes widened, and she shoved her knife back into its holster.
“Gray! Cool trick. Mirror travel? Who would’ve thought?” I could already see the wheels turning. “That’s like a no-warning sneak attack type thing . . . I like it.”
She leapt up and threw her arms around my neck. I wrapped my arms around her tiny body and gave her a quick hug. “Ophelia.”
“That’s enough of that,” the calm deep voice came from the shadows of the room.
“Cross.” I let go of her and nodded in his direction.
He stepped from the shadows and smirked at me. Long strands of his hair fell over the side of his face and into his golden eyes. Cross was only an inch taller than me and we were similar in build, but his dark side was so much darker than mine . . . or so they all thought. We did our customary bro greeting, then stepped back from each other.
“Good to see you, man. What’s up?”
I swallowed. “I’m in need of a . . . a favor.”
“Ohhh, I’m intrigued.” Ophelia bounced up and down. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
“But you haven’t got the foggiest of what I’m going to ask for?” I glanced from her to Cross and back. He just rolled his eyes and walked over to a dresser drawer and pulled a bunch of knives out. He began to strap them to his body.
“Yes, that’s the best part, isn’t it?”
“What’s with the knives?” I pointed to the fifth one Cross strapped to his body. “We’re in no danger of a fight.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes. “I keep telling him to stop acting like a rookie. If he wants to be ready, he should always be strapped.”
“I always have one.” Cross rolled his eyes.
