The liar thing, well. Fae tended to tell the truth, but only by the narrowest definition. They tended to talk around a thing, and lead a person to the exact wrong conclusion, without ever actually allowing a falsehood to pass their lips. You’d still end up believing that the sky was green and that rain comes from macaroni, but they’d never actually say as much.

  Another snort and stomp, a little too close for comfort. “He does not deal fairly.”

  “Well, that’s another thing entirely,” my voice called from behind the counter. “He gave you a bad bargain?”

  Now, that I could see a Faerie getting ticked off about. I was hardly an expert, but balance and deals and trade seemed to be pretty big deals in the Fae realm. Someone who went back on their deal, or lied to weasel something out of someone? Yeah, that would be huge. As my cousin Astrid would say, it would be a real party foul. The kind that ended with people dead or with permanent donkey heads.

  The curse on the mirror was so, so stubborn. It was like trying to pry an octopus off something. Just when you get one leg free, three more latch on. And I could feel the sullen anger of it, clinging for all it was worth.

  The hooves were coming closer again, so I hauled up the mirror with a wheeze that I’d deny until my dying day and started duck walking through the maze of shelves again. I brushed the side of a unit, and a waterfall of dust came raining down on me. Immediately burying my head in the collar of my jacket, I just prayed I wouldn’t sneeze.

  The tickle built, burning at the back of my throat. My nose twitched, and I fought it. I fought hard. That idiot Hughes was going to get us both killed with his crappy housekeeping. I would have almost called it ‘fitting’, if he wasn’t about to drag me along into it.

  A splintering crash tore through the room then, and I jumped. My heart pounded against the inside of my ribs, listening to an avalanche of stuff cascading to the floor. It sounded like the Nucklevee had broken one of the shelves. Temper, temper.

  At least I didn’t have to sneeze anymore.

  “He comes into my place,” the Fae raged. “Buys my treasures, and then increases the price to sell to others. He constantly asks for discounts, never wanting to pay fairly. He even finds other buyers on the internet and tries to get things cheaply from me so he can turn more of a profit.” A pause. An angry one. “He does not deal fairly!”

  None of that sounded so terrible to me, but maybe I was a little more familiar with capitalism than horse men who lived in the river. I could see why something like that would offend a Faerie, though. Hughes might have been a little shady, but it wasn’t worth getting shattered over.

  There was another crash, more items plummeting to the unforgiving ground, and I took the chance to scramble further from the Nucklevee, and closer to the back of the store. I just needed to ditch my big, awkward, astonishingly heavy burden, and I’d be able to teach Beddow some manners.

  “Fair trade for a fair bargain,” the Nucklevee snarled, stomping one hoof against the ground. “That one spits on such notions, only wanting more. If he cares for these objects so much, then let them be his lesson.”

  Alright, the ‘why’ was starting to take shape in my head. I could see how it made sense, maybe, for someone who didn’t really think like a human. The stuff was the problem, so turn the stuff into the punishment. Classic Faerie deal. It seemed kind of sloppy, though. What did shoe lady, or painting guy, or even that woman with the umbrella do to be worthy of purchasing cursed items?

  Not that the Fae were really into sweating the collateral damage.

  A flick of my fingers, and my voice echoed up from closer to the front door. “So, why curse things that would go to Hughes’ customers? Why wait so long just to curse Hughes, himself? Seems like kind of a round-about way to do things.”

  A furious snort tore through the air, and the clomp of hooves moved towards the front of the store. Metal screamed against tile as the Nucklevee shoved part of a shelf out of his way rather than walk around it.

  The old guy had some muscle, apparently.

  “All the curses were for those who patroned his shop! If enough of his customers fell to misfortune, then word would spread, and he would lose them all. If none would come to buy, his business would fail.” The Nucklevee rounded the edge of a shelf near the door and made a guttural sound of fury.

  “That all makes sense to me, so why trap him in the mirror?”

  “The fool triggered a curse not meant for him,” the Nucklevee answered with a snort of derision. “But no matter. He can watch from his prison as his life’s work falls apart. At least for as long as it amuses me.”

  Wow. Okay. Dealing with the Fae was always a bit of a coin toss—they weren’t human, and they didn’t think like humans. That meant their laws could be a bit nonintuitive, even to witches, never mind Joe Mundane.

  Still, it seemed a little over the top. I was sure Taliyah would agree, Fae princess or not.

  I hauled the mirror a little further towards the backroom. The problem was the no man’s land between where the shelves ended, and the counter began. It wasn’t a big space, but I was moving like a snail on sleeping pills, hauling a mirror that just seemed to get heavier the longer I carried it.

  A hoof scraped the ground in a sound that set my teeth on edge.

  “I grow tired of games, little witch.”

  I almost snorted before I remembered myself and cast my voice an aisle over from where the Nucklevee was standing. “That’s kind of rich, coming from a Faerie. You all love your games, as long as you’re the only ones making the rules.”

  The Nucklevee spat something in another language, and I didn’t need to understand it to know it was rude. I almost opened my mouth to make another comment. Hypocrites were one of the things I found hardest to tolerate, after living under my mother’s thumb for so long. But before I had a chance, another sound made my throat go bone dry.

  It was a loud popping sound. Like a joint dislocating. A series of crunches followed, then tearing cloth. There was another snort of air that gusted through the store, and the clatter of hooves that were as big around as a dinner plate.

  A shadow rose up over the top of the shelves, and a moonstone white eye gleamed in the dark.

  Crap.

  Lights from a passing car flooded into the store, and for a second, I could see the Nucklevee in all its horrible glory. It looked like a horse, in that it had four legs, hooves, a head, a mane, and a tail. But that was where the similarities ended.

  His hide was a green so dark that without the high beams, it would have looked black. His mane and tail were soaked and clumped with pieces of water weeds tangled in the strands. Solid white eyes scanned the room, without a pupil or iris, as the Nucklevee stretched his neck up to peer over the shelves.

  His face was wrong, the skin pulled too tight over bone, until I could clearly see the eye sockets, and the pointed end of the nasal cavity of his skull. Each hoofbeat sounded like bone scraping over asphalt, a sound that sent my skin crawling.

  His ears pinned flat to his skull, the Nucklevee reared back, and enormous hooves like boulders flashed out as he reared back to his full, terrifying height. His nose almost scraped the roof, skull knocking a light fixture loose to crash to the floor in a shiver of sparks and glass shards.

  I hunched forward with a gasp, burying my head in my arms to avoid being pelted. The shadows swirled around my body, spurred on by my rising anxiety. This was bad, this was very bad.

  “I’ve had enough of games, little witch.” The Nucklevee’s voice came out higher pitched than I expected, closer to a whinny. “You put yourself in my business. So be it. Now, you pay the price.”

  Normally, I would have been rolling my eyes. A Nucklevee wasn’t one of the High Sidhe. They didn’t have any business challenging a witch, much less a Blood Witch. But with a big, heavy, extremely fragile hostage in my arms, it meant I was fighting with both hands tied almost literally behind my back.

  The Nucklevee was on familiar ground, wasn’t hampered by trying to keep an idiot alive, and was also in the form of a huge powerful animal that was known to curb-stomp things that upset it. I wasn’t loving my odds of making it to the safety of the backroom...

  But I wasn’t about to lie down and surrender for a carousel reject, either. I was Wanda Depraysie, and worse things had taken a shot at me and paid for it. I just needed to ditch the mirror holding me back and do it in a way that wouldn’t get disapproving looks aimed my way by my more… morally hindered friends.

  When the Nucklevee craned his head around, peering over the shelves, I made a break for it. I just needed to get past the counter. The tight quarters would make it hard for a huge horse body to follow. If I could get into the backroom, I could brace the door, and find a secure spot to stash Mr. Hughes’ glass prison long enough to teach this annoying horse why it was a bad idea to mess with a witch. And I definitely wasn’t little.

  I made it halfway across the open space between the shelves and the counter, and the mirror slipped in my hands. My heart surged up into my mouth, my pulse so thick that I could feel it in my tongue. I scrambled for the heavy frame, trying to catch it before it could hit the floor, but one of my bootheels skidded on the crappy carpet.

  The curse surged up my arm, coating my skin to the elbow like a glove made out of tar. I had absolutely no desire to share Hughes’ accommodations, so I sent a surge of magic rolling down my arm, red light burning away the ragged, clinging strands. The curse fought me. It was a nasty thing, always hungry, and the terror of the victim it already had was continuously fueling it, so it took me a few seconds to wrench myself free.

  A few seconds was long enough for the Nucklevee to spot me, those pale, marble eyes swinging in my direction as he pawed at the floor with one massive hoof.

  “Son of a witch,” I muttered to myself, tensing to dive out of the way when he charged.

  Just then, the front door slammed open, and a nightmare of gleaming fangs and furious eyes boiled inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Between the dark, and the shelves, and the Nucklevee’s huge body, I had a moment of panic that some other creature had just joined the fight.

  Then I caught sight of pale hair, and brilliant green eyes that backlit like a cat’s, and finally recognized Lorcan. Relief immediately flowed through me, even if I couldn’t help but wonder why it had taken him so long to get here. And where the spell was Taliyah? Furthermore, what was the point of calling in backup if said backup took so long to arrive? Sheesh.

  I’d seen Lorcan fight before, of course. With the life I’d lived in the past couple of years, we’d ended up in quite a lot of fights, really. Vampires were very strong, and very fast, and they made excellent backup. The best sort of backup, really. As powerful and talented as I was, I always felt better with Lorcan at my back.

  But, whether out of personal preference, or due to the historical issues between vampires and witches, Lorcan had always been careful to keep his fangs under wraps, so to speak. He kept himself contained. Cautious. Restrained. I’d never seen him absolutely furious before.

  But as he blasted into the store, that’s exactly how he looked. He paused a few feet from the Nucklevee, staring down the aisle to where I was half crouched, half kneeling on the ground with the mirror clutched in my arms among the wreckage and shattered glass of the pawnshop’s counter. It wasn’t until I saw Lorcan’s nostrils flare, and his face go tight that I realized I was bleeding. The heavy frame of the mirror had bitten into my fingers, and the lines of heat trailing over my skin wasn’t sweat, after all.

  I shifted on the ground to try and stand, and shards of glass bit through my pants and into my knees. A hiss slipped out of my mouth, pained and ticked off in equal measure. In response, Lorcan’s lips drew back off his teeth. He turned towards the Nucklevee where it stood, its ears pinned flat to its neck, and let out a snarl that would have done a wild cat proud.

  Then Lorcan launched himself towards the Fae in a rush so fast, all I saw was the blur of his pale hair. Well, as distractions went, it was a pretty good one. A savage grin split my face, putting way more teeth on display than I usually did. Lorcan could easily keep the Fae busy while I dealt with the magic side of things.

  I was impressed. It was kind of hot to watch Lorcan lose it. I’d have to be sure to reward him later. But for now, I had other things on which to focus. With a wince at the burning in my knees, I pushed up and off the ground. I’d really liked these pants. What a shame that I’d lost them to glass shards and my own blood. Hopefully, Lorcan left some of the Nucklevee for me so I could make sure he knew just how displeased I was.

  The Fae whinnied behind me, high pitched through his nose, and furious. Lorcan let loose a growl that was so low, I felt it in my chest, and the hair at the back of my neck prickled. While he had the Fae distracted, that left me open to actually do something about the curse on the stupid mirror.

  Honestly, the things I got myself roped into since I’d moved to this town. It was absolutely ridiculous. Annoyed, in pain, and absolutely done with all of it, I limped my way over to a section of the counter that was still intact and dumped the mirror down on its surface.

  Hughes looked around wildly, realized he was staring at the ceiling, and clapped a hand over his eyes as he doubled over like he was going to be sick. What a drama king. Like he had to do anything but sit there.

  As to the curse? Well, it was gross, and very stubborn. I couldn’t believe something so nasty was spawned out of business rivalry and hurt pride. Actually, I could. Pride had led to some of the worst things I’d ever seen. It was still annoying as spell, though.

  Black strands clung to my fingers, my arms, and I tried to unweave them while also not letting them get hold of me.

  “Ugh, gross.” I scraped a really persistent bit off my arm and onto the counter, and it fell to the floor before disintegrating into smoke.

  It didn’t help that I was distracted by the fight rampaging behind me. If they could have kept the mayhem to a quieter decibel, that would have been helpful. But here we were. I kept one eye out, in case I needed to get out of the way fast. Getting trampled under hooves would not make spell craft any easier.

  “Come on, come on.” I teased one strand of the curse to the side, and two more latched on to replace it. “Okay, now I’m just getting angry.”

  Lorcan let out a ripping snarl, the kind I’d never heard from him before, and my head jerked up—just in time to see him twist out of the way of the Nucklevee’s strong teeth. Writhing around like an eel, the Fae lashed out with both hind legs in a devastating kick that launched Lorcan into one of the only shelves that was still standing.

  Well, had been one of the only shelves still standing. The wood shattered, caving in on itself as it went flying. Lorcan went down in a pile of junk and splinters. Sharp, ragged pieces of wood went skittering across the floor, and my heart became as cold and still as lead. As I watched, my breath caught in my throat and Lorcan picked himself up easily, launching back into the fight. But there were rusty stains on the edge of his jacket, and I couldn’t pry my eyes away from the foot long, jagged piece of wood lying on the ground.

  That was practically a stake. A stake. A few inches to one side, a bad angle, and it could have gone through Lorcan. He could have been staked. By some bitter old Faerie kicking him through a shelf.

  Vampires were strong. Vampires were dangerous. That had been drilled into my head, over and over, from when I was just a baby witch. Two Blood Wars had taught us that. And while vampires obviously weren’t a match for witches and our magic, that didn’t make them any less of a threat. Even with their weakness to the sun, it wasn’t smart to underestimate a blood sucker.

  Lorcan was strong. Fast. Impossible in so many ways. I’d called him as backup, yes, but it had never even occurred to me that he could be hurt. That he could be… Pain slithered through my chest at the very thought of what so nearly had just happened to him. My ribs suddenly felt too tight to contain my heart.

  No. No, I’d never let that happen. I’d never allow it.

  I left the mirror on the counter. The stupid thing could wait. I had bigger things to worry about now. Once upon a time, my magic had been a part of nature. A connection to the Goddess. A thing of silver moonlight and night wind. Being blooded had changed that. My magic had become a darker thing, connected to lonely graves and blood-soaked soil. It pooled in my chest now, slithering shadows in my veins. It wasn’t something I was comfortable with, even years after the change, but in this moment, I welcomed it with open arms, called it to me with sweet names like a beloved pet, and sent it flowing out into the building in a tide of hissing whispers.

  The curse was behind me. I could feel the angry, thorny edge of it without looking. And I could feel the sullen, cold water pull of the Nucklevee where he twisted and fought, determined to do as much damage as he could. And I could feel Lorcan, my husband, my sire, the blood that had made me now dripping down his side from a wound that had already smoothed shut.

  The power in me surged, itching to be set free. But the fight was moving fast, my eyes couldn’t keep up, especially in the near dark. I couldn’t risk a blood bolt, not if there was a chance I could hit Lorcan. I needed something else, something that would divert the Nucklevee’s attention and give Lorcan a chance to finish the fight.

  The shadows crawled through the room, seeking. Finally, they found something. A vessel waiting to be filled. Perfect, I thought, even while my mouth twisted up into a grimace. The taxidermy racoon twitched as my blood magic flowed into it. Fur and sawdust and staring glass eyes twitched, scrabbling free of the wooden base they’d been fixed to. The animal waddled its way towards the edge of the shelf and waited.

  When the Nucklevee’s broad back passed underneath it, I commanded it to lunge. There was something deeply satisfying in watching the big terrifying horse Fae, absolutely freak out when the undead raccoon dropped down onto its back. Beddow shied sideways, twisting, bucking, trying to throw it free while the raccoon scrabbled and clung to its mane.