“Screw that,” Maya said, her head up. “This is a new dress.”
Emmett chuckled. “Now I understand.” He stopped laughing and peered at Nash, who had moved himself protectively in front of Maya.
“But I don’t know what you are,” Emmett said. “I’d have guessed just human, but . . .” He shook his head and turned away, as though determined to solve the mystery when he had more time. “And you.” Emmett pointed at me almost joyfully. “You, young woman, are something extraordinary.”
“Stormwalker,” I said. “This is my hotel. But you knew that.”
“No, I had no idea. And Stormwalker is not all you are. Your aura is amazing.” He sniffed. “You’ve got goddess in you. Goddess and something else . . . I can’t quite . . . Oh, damn, hang on.”
Emmett pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his nose. He looked at the handkerchief in surprise. “Nosebleed. I never get those unless . . .”
He looked at us—no, at me—and his aura suddenly flared blacker than that of the most evil Nightwalker I’d ever encountered. “What the hell is this?” he demanded.
Mick answered him. “This is us, breaking a curse.”
“Curse? Cassandra, explain. Did one of your hexes go wrong?”
“One of my hexes?” Cassandra said. “We’re breaking your hex. These people haven’t done anything to you. If Christianson wants me, fine. Janet and her friends have done nothing but take me in when I needed somewhere to go.” Her voice broke.
Emmett pressed his handkerchief to his nose. “Christianson? What makes you think I’d waste a good hex for someone like Christianson? The man is a selfish, grasping, weak little bastard.”
“How about for the millions he pays you?” I suggested.
“Yes, I take his money. That doesn’t mean I live at his beck and call. I was surprised when you started working for him, Cassandra. You’re too good a witch for that walking cesspit.”
“I didn’t know what he was like,” Cassandra said. “When I found out, I left.”
“Good for you.” Emmett glanced around the lobby. “I can’t say much for where you ended up, but I admire your moxie.” His gaze came back to me. “But then there’s her. You might be smarter than I think.”
I raised my hands for attention. “I hate to break up this little reunion, but what are you saying? That Christianson didn’t hire you to kill Cassandra?”
“I wouldn’t have taken the job if he had. Cassandra’s a damn good witch, and I don’t waste power like that. I might need her someday.”
“I don’t understand.” Cassandra looked at Coyote, lying dead at our feet. He wasn’t coming back to life, not a move, not a peep. “This was for nothing?”
“Nice gesture, the sacrifice, but unnecessary. Next time you want to summon me, just text me.”
I looked up into Emmett’s face. He wasn’t even as tall as Fremont, who was a few inches shy of six feet, but Emmett’s lean body made him look taller than he really was. The sorcerer’s suit was finely tailored, and he wore a silk shirt and tie. His glasses weren’t off-the-rack from a discount optical shop; they were designer, with tiny diamonds winking in the corners. I didn’t waste time wondering why such a powerful mage would need glasses. Likely he wore them for effect.
Emmett looked like an ordinary but successful businessman from a big city, the kind you’d find all over Los Angeles or New York. That is, until I looked behind the glasses and into his eyes.
I saw there a cold, hard ruthlessness, with all the warmth of frozen metal. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell the color of his irises, but it didn’t matter. There was power in those eyes, uncaring power that would take and take and have no remorse about who it had to destroy to keep on taking. Power and no conscience, the most dangerous combination in the world.
“You didn’t cast the hex?” I asked him.
“No. Nice one, though.”
“Can you tell us who did?”
Emmett dabbed his nose as he tried to stare me down. Lucky for me, I’d grown up staring down my grandmother, a small Diné woman who would have had this man crumpling at her feet.
He shrugged and turned away, implying he’d let me go, though I knew better. He strolled to a wall and put his hand on it.
“Ah, a double hex. Very clever. And it used your own wards to ride in and infect the place. This took power. Precision. Planning. I can see why you thought I’d done this.” He sniffed the wall, then brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted them. “There’s demon in this. Succubus, I’d say. But more than that. A demon-goddess, who enjoys playing succubus for her own reasons . . .” His voice died, and his dark aura suddenly constricted. “Oh, no. Oh, you didn’t.”
“What?” I demanded, marching to him. “Oh, we didn’t, what?”
Emmett looked at his handkerchief again, his voice rising. “Damn it to hell. You brought me here. You summoned me to lock me in her trap.” He raised his hand, darkness surrounding it. “You stupid bitch, you brought me here!”
He let the darkness fly, not at me but at Cassandra. Pamela jerked Cassandra out of the way, but the arrow of darkness followed her like a heat-seeking missile. But Nash was there. He shoved himself in front of Cassandra, and the spear of darkness—so black it shone with its own light—shoved itself right into Nash’s chest.
Nash flinched the slightest bit, his mouth firming as the magic met the void inside him. Emmett watched, openmouthed, as his magic was sucked into nothingness. Without so much as a flicker, the magic vanished, gone as though it had never existed.
Nash straightened up, eyeing Emmett coldly, none the worse for wear.
“How the hell did you do that?” Emmett asked, dazed.
Nash didn’t answer, because of course, he had no idea.
Emmett slowly turned his ruthless gaze on me. “What is this, Stormwalker? What did I ever do to you that you’ve brought me to my death?”
“She didn’t do anything.” Cassandra’s hysterical tears returned. “I’m the victim here.”
“Janet.” Mick was at my side. I didn’t look at his hands, still covered in Coyote’s blood. “Something is terribly wrong.”
“No kidding.”
Mick’s voice was hot as he whispered into my ear. “If he didn’t cast this hex, if a demon-goddess did it, then how the hell did she? We’re back to whoever brought in the seed.” His eyes were black, fire dancing in them.
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “I haven’t been anywhere near the vortexes lately, and if my mother had touched me in any way, I’d know. She’s sealed in. I promise you.”
“Then if it wasn’t you, who?”
We exchanged a long glance, and then both of us turned to look at the man hovering at my shoulder. Not Emmett Smith.
“Fremont,” I said carefully. “About this ‘angel’ you conjured . . .”
Fremont’s brown eyes widened. “You believe me?”
“Yes. I do. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it?”
TEN
“SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL.” FREMONT RUBBED HIS forehead, his eyes taking on a faraway glow. “I found this spell in a book I bought at Paradox. That’s our local New Age store,” he said for Emmett’s benefit. “I just wanted someone to talk to. It didn’t seem dangerous or like dark magic. It’s not at all what we did here with . . .” He broke off, looking at Coyote’s body covered with congealing blood.
“And she had sex with you,” Emmett said. “Didn’t she?”
Fremont looked embarrassed. “She was an angel. I was going to say no?”