Page 32 of Outlaw Witch

I nod, feeling like I’ve been sucker-punched by this entire morning.

They’re like magicians whipping off tablecloth after tablecloth, except it’s my bleeding heart revealed at the very bottom.

I’m lost in thought as I head down to the ground floor. I have to admit, Roscoe’s plan seems to have been successful. Meeting Fabian, and then seeing his kid brother in that bed, has all my instincts warring. Self preservation versus the knowledge that I’ll be damning a man to a horrible death.

Fuck.

I can’t do it. I can’t turn away from them, like people did to me.

I hit the button back up to the fifteenth floor, up to their apartment. Really hoping that the floors haven’t magically altered when I get up there. I wonder how they cope with the building moving around without it driving everyone nuts.

But instead of the floors having changed, I face something much worse when the doors open.

A face I haven’t seen since I was twelve, since he was looming over me and telling me to get the hell out of his sight if I knew what was good for me.

“You,” Felix Hawkshead, Roscoe’s uncle, says.

My feet stick to the floor as I stare up into the face that rejected my pleas for help all those years ago. My stomach bottoms out and all the air seems to go out of the elevator.

I don’t remember all that much about what I said to him that day. I was half out of my mind with fear and hunger at the time. We’d been on the streets for about a month and Rook had got a bad cut on his foot that got infected. I freaked out and decided to take my chances on the shady side of town, only to come across this asshole who made me feel like shit before kicking me out on my ass.

My only defense right now is to hope I look different enough from the last time he saw me, glamor up, and act my ass off.

“Uh, hi,” I squeak out. “Can I help you with something?”

“You’re the one they’ve called in to help with Fabian’s problem,” he says.

“Uh huh, yep.” I swallow hard. “Yes, I am.”

I’m pulling as much magic out as I dare, hoping it helps to make me unnoticeable. Mundane. No one to pay attention to.

“I told him fucking with those vamps was a bad idea, but he didn’t listen.” He eyes me up and down, clearly judging by the shitty state of my boots and the fact I look and smell like I haven’t showered properly in days. “Boy’s obsessed with helping that little bastard. It’s made him blind to what really matters.”

He takes a step closer and I back up. I know I shouldn’t show weakness, but he’s looming over me and I’m starting to sweat. The past and the present combine into a horrible nightmare I just want to wake up from.

But some of us get stuck inside our nightmares even when we’re awake.

“You’re going to fix it for him, aren’t you, girl?” he says.

I clear my dry throat. “I’m going to try. Blood curses are no joke.”

He steps even closer until I can smell the coffee and tooth decay on his breath. “A lot of people have a great deal riding on that boy’s shoulders,” he says. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll work day and night to fix him. We have a lot of power in this city and beyond, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

I’ve had a lot of assholes threaten me in my life. The past decade has been no cakewalk, I can tell you. And with that, you get a kind of sixth sense for when to fight back and when to stay quiet.

Right now, I’m literally backed against a corner on this guy’s home turf. I can’t whip out my fire power without attracting way too much attention to myself. He’s got the upper hand here, and he knows it.

I just nod and try to look unassuming, dialing down the hate in my eyes so it’s less obvious I’d love nothing more than to smash this guy’s head off the wall.

“I’ll do what I can,” I say. I figure that should appease him, right?

“You better.” He leans in real close, his enormous body towering over mine. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on your progress, Ms. Clement.”

With that, he smashes the open door button and strides out, leaving me breathless and gaping after him.

My heart pounds out of my chest. Somehow, he knows my name. Or at least the one that used to be mine. I vaguely remember Roscoe’s comment about him being able to see illusions and I wonder if he can see through the dye that’s on my hair and the potions that changed my face. Weirdly enough, I don’t remember ever telling this guy my old name.

Still, somehow he knows exactly who I am. Despite all my attempts to hide my true appearance.

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