Hexed

Pooki’s glove compartment.

He heaved a sigh. “Maybe next time.”

“Sure. Maybe next time.”

* * *

I DROVE THROUGH the tangled streets of Atlanta with the windows down. The wind swirled with scents: a hint of wood fire, a dog marking his territory, horses, one, two, three, four, something tart and spicy . . . The streets were deserted. Most people hid at night. The dark was when the monsters came out to play. Even nice monsters like me. Rawr.

The magic flowed full force, and Pooki, my Plymouth Prowler, made enough noise to shake the gods in their celestial palace. I’d modified him to run on gasoline when the tech was up and on enchanted water when the magic was running the show. Pooki didn’t go very fast during magic waves, and he was so loud he made me wince even with the earplugs, but that was the best I could do.

About three decades ago, Atlanta was the happening place in the South: all skyscrapers, trendy restaurants, and modern conveniences. Tons of money and people moved through the city. And then the first magic wave hit. Magic ripped through the world. For three days it raged, making complicated technological marvels fail. Planes dropped out of the sky. Satellites plummeted to the ground. Guns jammed or misfired. Electricity vanished and the cities went dark. Three days later, technology returned, but the world was never the same.

People said the magic came out of nowhere, but my grandmother told me she felt it building for years. It made total sense, considering the historical pattern of the First Shift, the one that was lost in antiquity. Approximately six thousand years ago, Homo sapiens had built a great civilization based solely on magic. It generated so much magic that the balance between technology and magic was permanently disrupted. The world seesawed way over to the technology side to compensate. The ancient civilization suffered an apocalypse, and the human race began rebuilding, this time using technology as its base. Of course, they created a civilization so technologically advanced that the seesaw shifted once again. The magic had to come back and crashed the party. Now it flooded the world in waves, one moment here, eating tall buildings, fueling spells, permitting manifestations, and the next gone. Apocalypse in slow motion.

It just goes to show that no matter how great a nail you give humanity, we’ll manage to hammer it into the ground crooked. We suck. It’s the nature of our species.

My house sat in a large wooded lot, all by its lonesome. The street to the left led to a ruined apartment building, now little more than a heap of rubble, and the neighbors to the back of me had fled the city a long time ago. I bought their land for a grand before they took off, busted the house up, hired contractors to build me an extra-tall privacy fence, and now I had an awesome backyard. With the trees and the fence, I could even go out in my natural form, roll around in the grass, and nap in the sun without anybody pointing and yelling, “Hey, look, a white tiger!”

I maneuvered Pooki into my driveway, got out, raised the garage door, and carefully eased the vehicle inside. Of all the cars I ever had, the Prowler was my favorite. I loved the Indystyle wheels. That’s why I never raced it. As much as I hated to admit it, Kasen was right—I wrecked. A lot.

I lowered the garage door and stepped into my kitchen. A scent floated past me on the draft. I inhaled it and froze. It smelled of sandalwood and amber, spiced with a hint of tangy sweat and male musk. A shiver dashed down my spine, setting every nerve on high alert.

Jim.

The masculine fragrance filled my house, screaming, “Mate!” at me so loudly that I held my breath for a second to get a grip.

Jim was here, waiting for me. In my wildest dreams, I would walk into the room and he would kiss me. The picture was so vivid in my head, I shivered. It would never happen. Come on, ugly blind girl, snap out of it. Let’s try to be less pathetic. Jim was here because Kasen snitched on me, or because he needed some obscure scroll identified. He wasn’t here to make my sad little dreams come true.

I marched into my living room. “Jim?”

No answer.

The scent was hot and alive. He was still here, or he had been here just a second ago.

“Jim? It’s not funny.”

Nothing.

Fine. I followed the scent, moving softly on my toes. Living room, hallway, bathroom, bedroom. The scent sparked here. He was in my bedroom.

Oh my gods. What if I walked in and he was naked on my bed?

I would lose it. I would lose it right there and never get it back, whatever “it” was.

Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip. I padded into the bedroom. Jim slumped against the wall on the floor. His eyes were closed. He wore black jeans and a black turtleneck, a couple of shades darker than his skin. His black hair was cut short. His leather jacket lay on the floor in a heap. Asleep.

I tiptoed into the room and crouched by him.

He looked so peaceful here. Usually Jim scowled, just to remind people that he was Serious and Important and would Kick Your Ass if Necessary. But right now, with his head tilted back and his face relaxed, he was beautiful. I wanted to sit on the floor next to him and snuggle up into the crook of his arm. It looked like the perfect spot for me. Instead, I sighed and touched his forehead with my finger. “Hey, you. Wake up.”

He didn’t move.

Odd. Usually Jim woke up if a pin dropped half a mile away. Most shapeshifters did, but Jim especially. He oversaw security for the Pack and he exhibited paranoid tendencies. The only time he would pass out like this was when he was injured or exhausted from changing too many times and Lyc-V shut his brain down to conserve resources and make repairs. I smelled no blood and Jim’s clothes were still on. But if he had passed out after shifting, he’d be on my floor . . . naked. I closed my eyes and gave myself a mental shake.

Something was wrong.

I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Jim! Wake up. Wake. Up.”

His eyes snapped open. His dark hand grabbed my wrist. “Was I asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.”

He surged off the floor, dark eyes pissed off. “You were gone. Dali Harimau, where were you?”

I stood up and crossed my arms over my chest. It wasn’t much of a chest, so crossing my arms was easy. “I was out. You’re not my daddy, Jim. I don’t have to check in with you before I leave my house.”

A green sheen rolled over Jim’s eyes. “Dali, where were you?”

He had pulled the alpha card. You didn’t argue when his eyes lit up. “I was racing on Buzzard. There. Happy now?”

He exhaled. “Good.”

Good? Since when was my racing good? “You’re not making any sense.”

“You didn’t check your messages?”

“No, I just got home.”

“So you didn’t go to the house?”

“What house? I told you I just got home.”

Jim’s eyes dimmed. He rubbed his face with his hand, as if trying to wipe something off. “I need your help.”

JIM SAT IN my kitchen, staring at a cup of hot ginseng tea like a demon was hiding inside.

“Drink it. It’s good for you.”

Jim gulped it down. “It tastes awful.”

If I were a guest and turned up my nose like that at the tea my hostess served me, my mother would tell me I had shamed the family. “It’s as though you have no manners. I offer you a gift of tea and you make funny faces at it.”

“Do you want me to lie and tell you it tastes great?”

“No, I want you to say ‘thank you’ and tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m not sure.” Jim’s face was grim. “The northeastern office on Dunwoody Road didn’t report in on Tuesday.