Page 11 of Dead Heat

“Kitchen?” I asked, as we filed into the house.

The demon prince steered us toward the parlor room. “In here is probably best. Fewer objects.”

Okay, now I was really curious. “What’s going on?”

Alessandro stopped short at the red leather sofa. “Wow. That’s the best-looking sofa I’ve ever seen. I feel like it was made for me.”

The most recent furniture acquisition had divided my critics. From his reaction, Alessandro was firmly on Team Sofa.

Kane scouted the room, as though examining it for hidden listening devices.

My hands moved to rest on my hips. “What’s going on?”

Alessandro planted himself in the middle cushion of the sofa. “I’m cursed. Mr. Sullivan thinks you might be able to help me.”

“Me?” I shot a quizzical look at Kane, who ought to know better than to offer me up as a cure for what ails anybody.

“You’re very good at solving puzzles,” Kane said smoothly. “Which is what I consider Alessandro’s situation.”

“If I could undo curses, Otto would be able to drink blood, and maybe even see again, and Goran would be a handsome prince and not some Studio Ghibli frog splashing around Bone Lake.”

Both men stared at me, albeit for different reasons.

“Who’s Goran?” Kane asked.

“I love Miyazaki movies,” Alessandro declared. “Which one is your favorite? Mine isHowl’s Moving Castle.”

“Spirited Away.” I pivoted to Kane. “Didn’t I tell you about Goran, the Slavic water spirit?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“I’m not a curse breaker, Alessandro. I’m a goddess of nightmares and ghosts.”

Alessandro’s dark eyes smoldered. “An actual goddess? That explains your radiating beauty.”

Kane placed a hand on his shoulder. “Down, boy. This one isn’t available to you.”

“But imagine the sexual energy of a goddess.”

Kane offered a half smile. “I don’t have to imagine it.”

“Down, boy,” I told the demon. “What’s the curse?”

“Bad luck,” Alessandro said. “Misfortune is my new companion.”

I leaned my shoulder against the mantel of the fireplace. “Any idea what’s causing it?”

Kane nudged him. “Show her the mark.”

“Oh, right. The day it started, I woke up with this mark on my chest.” He lifted up his shirt to reveal a symbol in black ink.

I tried not to ogle the sinewy lines of his sculpted torso and, instead, focused on the design. “It looks like a rune.”

Kane nodded. “That’s what I said. Do you know which one?”

“Looks like a broomstick or a coat rack to me,” Alessandro remarked.

“I think it’s Fehu,” I said, “but I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”

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