Page 3 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Nothing more, nothing less.
He downed the chilled liquor and a distinctive fizz tickled his throat. It tasted like bourbon, but bourbon didn’t make the world feel more colorful or hazy at the edges. The warmth spread fast, loosening the quiet caution within him. Strange. He didn’t hate it. In fact, he liked the way it softened the world.
Suddenly, he wanted to stay a little longer.
CHAPTER 2
Nia
“HOW TO DETECT FAIRY WINE AT YOUR NEXT CELEBRATION.” —A PAGANS BLOG
Nia stood far from the bonfire, where darkness welcomed her and her shadows prowled.
“How much are you willing to pay for your transgressions?” she asked, her voice calm, almost bored. “What are you willing to do?”
Jackson, her latest mark, swallowed hard. “T-transgressions?” he echoed.
Nia rolled her eyes. Shadows coiled around him, slithering up from the ground, winding like smoke around his throat. They whispered to her, revealing what he tried to hide—his fears, his secrets, the things he thought no one else could see.
Movement in the distance caught her eye.
A man, tall, broad-shouldered, and entirely out of place lingered at the edge of the gathering, half-hidden behind a bush. Was he… talking to it? Petting it?
Curiosity flickered over Nia, sharp and unexpected. Without thinking, she let her magic tighten around Jackson’s throat, silencing his blubbering as she turned to study the stranger.
Who was he here with? Why wasn’t he joining in like everyone else? And why was he so fascinated with that bush?
His gaze lifted and locked onto hers across the bonfire.
The noise around her dimmed. Her pulse skipped. An odd feeling stirred beneath her skin, slow and certain: like she’d found something hidden, something meant only for her. It settled deep in her chest, a familiarity she couldn’t place and didn’t trust.
Jackson’s choking shattered the moment.
The spell was broken, leaving her with a flicker of irritation. Nia’s gaze snapped back to her mark, her magic coiling tighter around his throat, punishing him for daring to break her focus. His face turned a lovely shade of blue before she pulled her shadows loose.
“I—I can’t believe they call you Saint Nia, Duchess of Charity,” he wheezed, glaring with watery eyes. “What would people say if they found out you threatened and terrorized for your donations?”
Nia’s lips curved into a cold smile. “And what will they say when they learn that the so-called king of happy and healthy chickens is a fraud? That his birds are living in squalor and fighting off rats? That those organic chicken breasts they’re feeding their children come from animals covered in lesions and riddled with disease?”
His eyes went wide. Nia gave him a wicked grin.
“Ten thousand dollars,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Oh, Jackson,” she said, shaking her head. “No.”
“F-fifty thousand.”
“You think fifty will absolve you of your cruelty?” she asked, her tone cool and unyielding. “That amount is a drop in the ocean for someone like you.” She paused, watching horror dawn on his face. “I know about your illegal gambling. And the money laundering.”
“You’re a monster.”
“No, I just grew up with one,” she backed him farther away from the party and tightened her powers once again. He was right where she wanted him. “Here’s the deal, Jack. You’re going to clean up your farm, get proper veterinarian care for those poor chickens. Then you’re going to donate fifty thousand to Feeding Children, twenty-five thousand to the Stella Rune Pantry for the Unsheltered, and then, for pissing me off, ten thousand to the Stella Rune Animal Shelter.”
His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
Nia leaned in. “What? Cat got your tongue? Spit it out.”
“Eighty-five thousand?” He shook his head, incredulous. “That’s insane.”
