“Point taken,” she answered, and this time actually smiled—no doubt she enjoyed seeing me out of my comfort zone. “Normally, this wouldn’t have even come to the attention of the police department.”

  “Imagine that,” I frowned.

  She sighed. “But Mr. Bauer was absolutely, fervently, convinced that the painting flung itself off the wall.”

  “And not that it just fell?”

  She shook her head. “He said the painting lifted itself off the nail in the wall and then launched itself through the air. Then, according to testimony, he started ranting to the paramedics about ghosts and haunted paintings, and I thought cursed shoes, cursed paintings—sounds similar enough that it might be worth checking.”

  I let out a long, put upon sigh. “Fine. Let’s take a look at the ugly painting, but if there’s nothing wrong with it, other than the fact that it’s a slap to the face of true art, then Mr. Bauer might have a second concussion to worry about in his near future.”

  “Just take a look at it, Wanda,” Taliyah answered.

  So, I took a few steps towards the painting, but then I didn’t even have to touch it to feel the greasy, gritty sensation of a curse clinging to it. Forcing myself forward, I reached down and pinched the torn canvas between two fingers, as I ignored the sensation of ants climbing up my arm and, instead, tried to figure out what the painting was actually depicting.

  It looked fuzzy, like someone had used a camera with bad light settings, for all that it was actual paint. From what I could make out, there was a foot stool which was surrounded by dripping candles. Strangely, as I continued to study it, the dark blob atop the foot stool began to delineate itself into a black cat. The cat was facing the viewer, and as I further studied it, I noticed its eyes narrowed into golden slits, its ears pinned back, and its tail was caught mid lash. It was the perfect example of feline disdain, and it looked so much like Hellcat that I hated it on sight.

  “Ugh, just what this room needed, an ugly cat painting.”

  Taliyah, ignoring my valuable commentary, asked, “Is the picture cursed?”

  I gestured to where she was only gingerly touching the frame, like she was worried the supposed ‘gold’ was going to stain her fingers green if she wasn’t careful. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

  “Then it is?”

  I arched a brow at her. “You tell me.”

  I mean, she was a would-be Fae queen, she didn’t need me to point out the obvious.

  She grimaced, looking like she wanted to let go of the painting, but forced herself to hold on to it. “I feel… something.”

  “Something that feels like?”

  “Energy. And it’s tactile—it almost feels kind of greasy.” She shook her head. “That’s not quite the right word for it. At first, I thought that slickness might just have been something on the frame.”

  “But it’s not.”

  She nodded. It was moments like this that I had to remind myself that Taliyah, with all the power of one of the High Sidhe and next in line for the throne of Winter, had almost no experience with magic. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d thought she was human and hadn’t known anything else existed. All Taliyah had were her instincts, really. Luckily for her, years as a cop in Portland had honed those instincts pretty well already.

  “That’s the remnants of the curse you’re feeling.” I took a step back, eyeing the frame and just barely resisting the urge to scrub my hand against the side of my pants. It wouldn’t help remove the feeling, and it might stain my clothes with lingering spite. “It almost feels like the curse builds until it’s activated by something, and then it’s depleted until it builds up again. Maybe that’s why it’s not flinging itself at us.”

  “What makes you think the curse won’t fade once it’s been activated,” Taliyah asked me, her blue eyes sharp as she studied me.

  I leaned closer, holding my hand out towards the frame but not quite touching it. I could feel those oily strands of power reaching out towards me, and I pulled back before they could make contact. “The way they’re lingering, for one. Most curses hit, last until they do what they’re meant to do, and then they disperse and they’re gone for good. But this one…” I held up my hand again just to be sure. “This one seems almost like it’s recharging, rebuilding.”

  Stepping back, I fought the urge to shake out my hand. The sensation of rough fur lingered on my skin. “Still, Mr. Bauer really should have known better than to tempt fate.”

  Taliyah frowned. “Tempt fate?”

  “Yeah.” I gestured from the ruined painting to the spot on the wall. “Doesn’t he know it’s bad luck to cross a black cat’s path?”

  I wasn’t sure I deserved the long-suffering look Taliyah gave me. I mean, come on, that was a goodish joke?

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?” She let the picture rest back against the wall as she got her notebook and pen out and then faced me, pen poised and ready to write.

  I wandered over to the fireplace and started looking over the slab of pink stone with horrified fascination as I held my hands just above it, not daring to touch the ostentatious thing. “All I can tell you about the painting is that it’s ugly. And it’s really, really cursed.”

  “And the fireplace?”

  “Not cursed.”

  “The other paintings that are still hanging on the wall?”

  “Not cursed, but also still very ugly. Like everything else in this house.”

  The snap of Taliyah’s notebook closing sounded very judgemental.

  “But hey, look on the bright side,” I continued as I spun on my heel, holding my arms out to indicate the rest of the room. “Maybe that conk on the head will actually knock some taste into the victim.”

  Shaking her head, Taliyah reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose like I was taking every ounce of whatever patience she had left. I’d seen Maverick do the same thing—when he was trying to ward off a headache. I wondered if he’d learned it from her, or vice versa.

  “Well, thank you for your time,” Taliyah said, not sounding very thankful at all. “Let me get you back to your store now.”

  I let Taliyah herd me back out of the house and waited for her to lock up, all the while rubbing my fingers together and feeling that oily miasma of the curse and wondering what the spell was going on.

  Chapter Eleven

  Before I left with Taliyah, I told Maverick to lock up the store and head home.

  The store wasn’t so busy that it was worth him sticking around. Which meant that once Taliyah and I finished at the house style abandoned, I could just collect my Escalade and head home.

  So, that was exactly what I did.

  When I walked through the front door to the house Lorcan and I shared, I noticed he wasn’t home, so I kicked off my shoes (in the figurative sense as I’d never be so careless with Jimmy Choos) and made my way to the kitchen, trying to force my brain to purge the memory of those clown paintings. If I hadn’t known for a fact that they weren’t enchanted, I’d have sworn their huge, soulful eyes had been following me around the room.

  Ugh. Clowns.

  But the whole situation with the black cat painting and Jenny’s shoes was still bothering me. The curses were similar—at least, in the feel of each one. And neither was anything I wanted anywhere near me. So, did I believe the same person had cast both of them? It took me about a split second to decide I would comfortably be able to say that, yes, I did.

  But, why?

  Taliyah wasn’t much of a sharer when it came to being the Chief of Police, and Goddess knew I’d tried to wheedle details out of her in the past. Really, what was the point of being an in-law to law enforcement if you didn’t get all the good gossip? Well, Taliyah was definitely tight-lipped where that good gossip was concerned. Irritatingly so.

  Regardless, the point was that maybe there was some kind of link between Jenny and Mr. Bauer, and Taliyah just hadn’t mentioned that link, but I doubted it. Which meant some pain in the ass was going around cursing people almost at random. If such was the case, then we had a big problem on our hands, because randomly cursing people wasn’t the sort of thing sane people did.

  A curse wasn’t like a hex. A hex was a little twist of dark magic. It was a mean thought, usually an impulse. Sure, hexes could be devastating in the right circumstances, but they were more annoyances—like little trifles that might ruin your day. A curse, though? A curse was something different.

  When you laid a curse on someone, you really had to feel that curse. There had to be something behind it—something firing—something breathing it to life. There had to be anger there, hatred even. Whatever the emotion, it had to be of the personal kind. Spite. Revenge. Betrayal. All the thorny, ugly emotions that we could dredge up and out of our soul and fling into the face of someone who’d, in some way, wronged us.

  Was it possible that both Mr. Bauer and Jenny had deeply and personally offended a magic user who was this deft at twisting curses? There was a chance, I figured. People who became good at curses also tended to be the types who had lots of enemies and were easily offended (otherwise, how would one become so good at learning curses?).

  It was still odd, though.

  As far as I could tell, the curses probably weren’t tied to the object themselves—I mean, I couldn’t find anything in common between one hideous painting and the most gorgeous pair of shoes I’d ever seen. Nope—no connection jumped into my head.

  Forgetting why I’d walked into the kitchen in the first place, I slammed the cupboard door closed, straightening up with a scowl. This whole situation had my proverbial panties in a bunch, and that was annoying. Why? Because it wasn’t even my problem, so why was I all confounded about a couple humans getting zapped with a curse? I mean, I had my own issues to deal with, so why wasn’t I focused on those? Why did I care so much?

  I still wasn’t any closer to coming up with a good date idea for my anniversary with Lorcan, and I’d asked just about everyone I knew for advice, other than Taliyah. But since I knew Taliyah would pick something like an activity with her kids, or watching a movie, or something equally dull and terribly domestic, there didn’t seem much point in seeking out her opinion. Plus, I wasn’t even sure she’d give me one. She was prickly like that.

  So, here I was, taking up valuable brain space, thinking about something I should have left to Taliyah and her crew of detectives. Yet, I did hate an unsolved mystery...

  And I was the High Witch of the local coven, even if I had to keep that fact under wraps. In public record, Betanya might lead us, but everyone in the coven, and the people in town, they all knew Scapegrace was mine. So, if some magic user was bumbling around Haven Hollow, making a hash of their spite casting, then who else to put a little fear of the Goddess into them than the head of the local coven?

  There was also the fact that, as a member of the Haven Hollow Council, I was charged with keeping the supernatural community under wraps for the safety of everyone in the town. And someone randomly cursing mundanes with strange curses definitely fell under the category of keeping things ‘under wraps’.

  Well, damn. It looked like this stupid problem might have just become my stupid problem. At least, like, five percent my problem.

  That was very inconvenient.

  With a sigh, I slumped down against the counter. I still had until the following Friday to plan out my amazing date idea for our anniversary. With any luck, all this nonsense would be cleared up by maybe… Wednesday—a couple of days from now. Yeah, that seemed doable.

  I chewed my lower lip, leaning over my folded arms. What I wouldn’t have given to be at a meeting of the Black Cat Cocktail Club at the moment—having some drinks, good company, all of us letting our hair down for a night. I could even ask everyone’s opinion on what to do for Lorcan, and the girls probably would be too tipsy to remember it the next day.

  But there was no Black Cat Cocktail Club night on the schedule, as far as I knew. I’d have to get on Poppy about that since she was the best with the calendar. In fact, I still needed to talk to Poppy about my proposed evening with Lorcan, even if all of her ideas were sugary enough to give me cavities. She did know her gooey emotional nonsense.

  And as to the rest of the members of the Black Cat club? Darla was a ‘no’, mainly because her high-pitched, nasally voice was enough to make you wish you’d packed earplugs. Plus, she’d been dead for so long, I doubted she could give me much info on dating.

  So, that left Bailey—but she was more interested in spirits than in dating, it seemed. But she had been dating our local mattress salesman, Syd, for a while, so maybe she was worth talking to. I’d put her firmly in the ‘maybe’ category. Who else did that leave? Fifi?

  Yeah, Fifi would be a good one to ask. She was a succubus, and they tended to be the opposite of monogamous, racking up the miles, going from man to man. Witches and succubae had that in common… But Fifi had always been the odd one in her family. Not content to lure an endless supply of food to her door with her stunning looks and sex demon pheromones, she’d always been looking for a real connection. A love match. A partner. Which she’d finally found in Roy—all around tall, dark and handsome. No one could fault her taste.

  But as another woman who had to learn relationships as a second language, Fifi might have some advice for me. I made a mental note to swing by Hallowed Homes when I next got a chance.

  Tragically short of both cocktails, friends, and relaxation, I was forced to suffer with just a half a glass of wine. It wasn’t the same, but it was still nice. I’d only gotten a few sips down when the door opened, and I heard Lorcan hanging his coat up in the hall closet.

  Hot vampires were an even better distraction from all my woes than a half glass of sub-par wine, and I happily abandoned said glass so I could meet my husband (and, yes, it still felt weird to call him that) in the doorway as he walked into the living room.

  Lorcan didn’t stagger, not even when I threw myself into his arms. He just swept me closer, until I was pressed against his chest, and I’d have been able to feel his heartbeat, if he had one.

  “Well, now, isn’t this a nice surprise?” His brogue got a little thicker as he grinned, his smile wide enough to flash the tips of his fangs. “To what do I owe the honor of such a greeting, sweetling?” He eyed me more narrowly. “You’re being nice to me—you must want something?”

  “Phooey,” I pouted as I slid my arms around his neck, fingers idly playing with his hair where it brushed his collar. “It has been a day, let me tell you.”

  “Has it, love?”

  I nodded. “Someone’s being stupid, and somehow, it’s ruining my week.”

  “That does sound quite terrible.” One of his hands flattened against my back. The other slid down to cup the curve of my hip, and he leaned closer until our noses almost touched. “Now, what can I do to make your day a little better, hmm? Can you think of anything? Anything at all?”

  He sounded a little smug, and part of me wanted to make him work for anything sexual between us because of that. But there was a gleam in those lovely green eyes that made my toes curl. Just like they always did whenever we were together. The day had been long and frustrating. Didn’t I deserve a treat? Yes, I sure did. So, I arched up onto my tiptoes to kiss him, letting him take my weight.

  The press of his lips was perfect. The hot glide of his tongue over mine was even better. I tugged him down, molten heat gathering in my veins and sparking against my nerves as I licked into his mouth. Lorcan made a little rumble in the back of his throat, almost a growl, and lifted me straight off the ground as he strode forward, leading the way towards our bedroom. With a laugh, I hooked my legs around his hips, so I could press myself a little closer, and feel all those delicious muscles working as he moved.

  “I’ve missed this,” he whispered between kisses, his breath warm against my lips. “I missed you. I’m tired of being apart all the time, my love. I want more of us.”

  Part of me wanted to point out that we literally lived together, but I understood what he meant. With his dental practice, and my shop, and the Council, and whatever ridiculous nonsense cropped up in Haven Hollow on the regular, it always felt like we were snatching moments of borrowed time.

  I pulled away from the next kiss with a desperate gasp, my heart thundering as I pulled in a gulp of much needed air before I could dive back to Lorcan’s lips. “Maybe we should start booking appointments to see each other.” My voice came out a lot breathier than I’d intended. “Pencil in some quality time.”

  Lorcan’s mouth trailed down my cheek and over the pounding pulse in my throat. The press of his fangs sent little sparks of anticipation crackling down my spine, and I arched against him.

  “If it gets me more of you, I’ll get a bloody schedule book.”

  Without stumbling or breaking stride, he climbed up onto the bed on his knees, with me still wrapped around him like a limpet. Vampire strength really was just so delicious under the right circumstances. I fell back on the wine-red velvet duvet cover with what I hoped was a sultry laugh.

  “Let me see,” I hummed, tapping my finger to my lips while I pretended to think about it. Which was really difficult, what with Lorcan kissing his way across my collar bone and doing his best to make me spontaneously combust. “I could pencil you in next Friday night, if that worked for you, Mr. Rowe.”

  “Sorry, love,” he mumbled, clearly distracted by nuzzling at the neckline of my blouse. “I have a patient coming in that night.”

  “Do you?” I frowned.

  He nodded. “Yes, he needs some pretty extensive work done. It’s going to be a late night, even for me.”

  I paused, blinking. “Wait, really?”

  Lorcan didn’t seem to notice my confusion, not if the way he was focused on undoing the buttons on my shirt was any indication. “I’m afraid so. But any other night, I’ll make time for you, Sweetling.”

  Well. Huh.

  Lorcan forgot our anniversary.