Page 73 of Outlaw Witch

The thing about insomnia is that it changes how you see sleep. Morphs it into something ugly and hopeless.

And for a few nights, Silver gave me a break from that. I didn’t ask for her help, but she gave it to me anyway. We’d known each other for hours by that point. Even so, she gave me something that no one else has been able to.

Now, thanks to her, we have real hope that I might break this thing. Might be able to exorcize the demon that’s living under my skin, sucking all my energy.

I can’t say I knew what to expect when Silver turned up here. I didn’t know what to think about the little witch with the guarded smile and starburst eyes. But I did not expect her striding into our lives and rolled up her sleeves, digging right into the problem, ready to tackle it head on. She’s not supposed to have been the brains behind removing the curse. But it seems like going to the vamps was her idea, and persuading them to give us information on this ritual was thanks to her and no one else.

So maybe it’s that the curse has reached my brain. Or maybe I’m riding high on endorphins from sleeping, or relief that we might actually have a solution. But I feel like I could drop to my knees and worship her right about now.

Ro’s enamored with her too. Which isn’t surprising, really. Ro is enamored by a lot of things, he’s an enthusiastic guy. He’s never really applied that to a woman, though. His attachments tend to be fleeting as he loses interest quickly, and Zeph’s not someone that ever lets anyone close enough to get attached to them.

I don’t know what’s going on with me. It’s not that I’m feeling wild or out of control. No. It’s the opposite. I feel more tethered than anything. Like I’ve temporarily been given a safe place to land. And for the moment, it’s enough. Maybe it’s because I’ve slept for the first time in weeks and weeks.

“How’s business going? Any new issues?” I ask Roscoe and Zeph as we gather around the coffee table, stuffing our faces with takeout. Silver’s headed off somewhere, so my worship of her will have to wait until another time.

The way Z’s eyebrows shoot up at the question, and Roscoe can barely hide his surprised pleasure that I’m actually taking an interest in our business, tells me I’ve been checked out for too long. I’ve been a zombie, lolling around on the sofa or in bed, unable to move and bored out of my skull.

Not today, though. Today I have the energy to ask questions. To sit and nod in the right places.

Roscoe breaks into a long ramble about every aspect of the business, flitting from one thing to the next. He tells me how busy the clubs have been, who’s ruling at the fight nights. He talks on and on and by the time he’s done, I’m regretting my earlier enthusiasm. My ears are ringing and I can practically feel the new information seeping into my brain.

I groan softly and tip my head back against the sofa. “I’ve missed a lot.”

Even before I managed to get myself cursed, I’d been distracted. Seb’s illness seems to have periods where it ebbs and flows, and we were right in the middle of one of his flare-ups.

That was what led to the whole decision of trying to procure vamp blood. Which started me down this road that’s left my twenty-four-year-old body exhausted by eight PM after doing nothing more strenuous than reading off a screen and watching other people work harder than me.

It’s a lot.

Maybe too much since I can feel fatigue settling around my shoulders and absorbing into my bones like a familiar coat. Like I was given a small reprieve earlier tonight, but now it’s time to pay the piper. Time for me to take my pumpkin and my exhausted body and fuck off back to bed.

All I know is, I can’t take much more of this.

22

The next few days area flurry of activity and growing anticipation as we all scrabble to get ready for the ritual. Trying to pick apart the obscure and downright confusing instructions provided in Dante’s book.

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