Page 15 of Wicche Hunt

“Darling, I believe your cousin is still on the line,” Clive said.

“Oh!” Rustling. “Sorry about that. Anything else you want to tell Arwyn before we let her sleep?” Long pause. “She wants to thank you again for the song to the goddess. She felt better and stronger after you did it. She wants to thank you for enduring the pain to tell the police what happened. Hmm?” Pause. “Oh, okay. She wants you to call me tomorrow when you visit her mother. She has a message she’d like me to give her. Is that all right?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Good. Well, we both wish you a good night.”

“And you.” I disconnected and just sat there, staring out the truck windshield.

Declan reached for my hand and squeezed. “She’s not alone. Sam is comforting her on this side and your aunts are waiting on the other.”

“Yeah.”

He started the engine again. “I know an all-night fast-food joint on the way back to your gallery. We’ll get food and then you can sleep, okay?”

I nodded. I wasn’t hungry, but he was right. I needed to eat something. Please, Goddess, no dreams tonight.

I ate half a burger and a few fries on the way home. Having a werewolf around was handy. No wasted food. When he pulled up to the gallery, I touched his wrist.

“I don’t want any more nightmares. Can you help me sleep?”

He put his big warm hand over mine. “Of course.”

We walked around the back and used the studio door, but not before I leaned over the rail to wish everyone a happy morning. It wasn’t light yet, but it would be soon.

“Couch or bed?” I asked.

He scratched his beard. “I think I might just be too tired to let you sleeping next to me in a bed keep me awake.” Following me up the steps, he mumbled, “Or maybe not.”

I stopped and turned. He’d been eye level with my butt. “Couch?”

Nodding, he turned and trudged back down the stairs, kicking off his work boots. He slouched down on the couch, his legs straight out and crossed at the ankles, his head resting on the back cushion.

“I’m going to change into sweats and be right down.”

He nodded again.

I put on my super soft loungewear, brushed my teeth, tied up my hair, and then grabbed two blankets. Before I went down, I remembered to text Hernández.

Me: Long story. Too tired to get into right now. Pearl’s spirit told my cousin who’s a necromancer that she remembers that her killer drove a black BMW convertible and though she’s not sure if his name is really David, he did have a leather portfolio in the car that had a D on it. Okay, good night.

Hernández: Wow. Okay. Wow.

When I went downstairs, I found Declan breathing slowly and deeply. As gently as I could, I covered him with one blanket and then tried to lie down next to him, my head on a pillow up against his hip. Once I finally got arranged, my legs tucked up—I needed a bigger couch—a blanket around me, I let out a long breath. I hadn’t woken him.

He pulled an arm from under his blanket and rested it on my shoulder. “That was cute,” he rumbled. “Wolves don’t fall asleep when someone’s moving around in the den. Thank you for the blanket, though.” He rubbed my arm. “Let’s both sleep now.”

And I did. Finally.

SEVEN

Otis Joins the Ranks

Growling. Wolves with their teeth bared snarl and snap, tearing into one another with sharp, deadly claws. Howls. A ring of savage, slathering animals tethered by string as Declan stands in the middle, shoulders straight, accepting what’s to come.

A woman stands in a weak circle of light, darkness encroaching. A man climbs steps toward her, a long needle held at his side. She knows who he is, knows what he plans. She tries to push him away, but he stabs her in the neck, injecting her with poison.

Sylvia struggles in the hospital bed, trapped in a coma of the demon’s making. He’s crushing her, sitting on her chest. Calliope whispers foul curses in her mother’s ear, sharing a look of triumph with her demon.

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