Page 8 of Cursed
Evan turned to see Seth watching him with a fond look. He snuggled closer. “Just enjoying the downtime. It’s nice to get a break and have a chance to catch our breath.”
Seth combed his fingers through Evan’s hair. “I heard what you said about after.” His voice was a low, sleepy rumble. “And I want that.”
Evan touched Seth’s cheek. “Glad I made a difference.” Seth’s admission wasn’t exactly a revelation, but it made him swallow hard to hear his partner speak so matter-of-factly.
“A huge difference.” Seth leaned in for a light peck on the lips. “We’re damn good together. Thank you for signing on to my crazy quest.”
“The witch-disciples have been killing people for over a century—including my family. No one else stopped them. When we’re done, there won’t be any more sacrifices, and those victims will be avenged,” Evan replied.
On rough days, Evan wished they could walk away and hand off the task to someone else. As he got to know others in the supernatural community, he realized that nearly all the other monster hunters had lost someone and got into hunting for vengeance. Those who lasted the longest shifted from pursuing a vendetta to accepting that someone had to protect civilians from paranormal threats.
“I know there are some guys who never want to do anything besides hunt,” Evan said quietly. “They can’t let it go. I don’t want to keep pushing our luck once the job is done. That doesn’t mean we can’t be a resource for lore, magic, or séances. But maybe we can stay out of the line of fire.”
Seth pulled him close. Evan took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of sweat, sex, linens, and a faint touch of Seth’s cologne. “I’m fine with that. Milo and Toby consult, but they don’t do much active hunting. I never asked, but I always suspected it was for those very reasons. They’re pretty good role models.”
Milo and Toby were retired hunters who had taken Seth in and mentored him when he first started tracking the witch-disciples. They owned an online security company and handledparanormal issues on the side, supporting researchers and hunters across the country.
Evan leaned in to kiss Seth again, warm and sweet. He drew back and sighed. “Guess we should get a shower and breakfast. Cassidy and Rowan thought they’d have more info for us, and we need to head to Savannah.”
Seth stole another peck on the lips. “We can save time and get ready together.”
“Works for me.”
While they wouldn’t both fit in the RV’s shower, the bathroom hand job was worth it. They made a quick breakfast of coffee and toast with peanut butter before heading to Trifles and Folly.
Teag met them at the door of the antique shop. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the breakroom,” he welcomed them. “Cassidy and Rowan are in there.”
They greeted their friends and topped off their travel mugs before settling in at the séance table.
“Thanks for helping, Rowan,” Seth said. “I hope you’ve got some good stuff for us.”
Rowan was in her early thirties with shoulder-length blonde hair. Her girl-next-door look hid that she was a powerful witch and the leader of a local coven. “Good to see you two again. Cassidy brought me up to speed. I think I have some things that will help.”
She lifted a black drawstring bag from her lap and carefully laid out its contents on the table: bone and silver talismans.
“I know you’ve got protective bracelets from Teag and tracking spells. There are a couple more charms here for you to pass on to the witch’s target and their significant other. And I have two amulets here, one for each of you, that will complement your bracelets.” Rowan slid the necklaces toward Seth.
“I’ve written out some spells that might come in handy on the cards for you to memorize.” Rowan indicated a silk bag. “Weather magic seems big, but it’s important to remember that even a powerful mage is unlikely to conjure up a huge storm. That requires too much juice and calls attention.
“Most of the time, they use things like a localized downpour, high winds, or a sudden freeze—things that can cause a real problem but aren’t going to have weather reporters flocking in with camera vans.” Rowan chuckled.
“These spells should be well within your ability, Seth. Sometimes the simplest things pack the most punch. The defensive spells drain the hostile energy away to make it harmless. A few are protection spells that can be used over and over. They won’t hold off everything, but they can buy you time and give you a chance to get to shelter—or take your shot,” she said with a knowing look.
Seth’s magic was a small gift that gave him limited abilities to do simple, rote spells. Rowan and others had taught him some spells that could be done by non-witches who possessed a spark of power, exceptional focus, and strength of will. That had come in handy many times to save their skin.
“Just remember—weather magic is like any other kind of spell,” Rowan told them. “It takes a lot out of the witch who casts the spell, especially if they intend to hold it for a long period of time or have the magic affect a large area. You can use that against Vernon by distracting him with your attacks and forcing him to use his energy for protection.”
“Do you think he can throw lightning?” Evan asked something that worried him since they found out about Vernon’s specialty.
Rowan sighed. “Maybe. That’s pretty advanced because it requires the caster to control and redirect a great deal of power. Some high-level witches can do it, and I know the disciples havehad over a century to practice. It’s also something that puts the witch in as much danger as the target. If the witch miscalculates, they absorb the lightning themselves. Needing to put protections in place drains time and energy from their attack, so they can’t just throw bolt after bolt, despite what you see in the movies.”
Evan would have preferred to find out that the idea was a myth, but natural limits to keep Vernon from hurling lightning like a pissed-off Zeus brought a measure of comfort.
“I know you held off telling Cassidy and Teag everything until I could be here,” Rowan said. “Now that you know more about Vernon, fill us in on his next victim.”
Seth leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. “Paxton Miller is the target—he prefers ‘Pax,’ by the way. Young chef with big dreams. Owns a food truck and has gotten very good reviews for quality comfort food.”
“After I read the reviews, I was pretty hungry,” Evan admitted and the others laughed. “Seems he’s got a way of tweaking familiar recipes that makes them special without being too different.”
