The Cursed Page 9

  “What? No! Nobody’s killing anybody,” Luke said firmly. “If that were what they wanted, they never would’ve come to me. The maestro knows better than that.”

  Rio’s heart slowed down, but only a fraction. “If they wanted someone to kill me, they would have gone to someone else, is what you’re saying by implication. In other words, the League of the Black Swan has a habit of hiring assassins.”

  Luke jumped up off the couch and started pacing back and forth from the fireplace to the kitchen.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know,” he said, shoving a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what they’ve been up to since I quit.”

  Rio stood up and moved so her back was to the wall next to the fireplace. Not that she had any idea how to defend herself against a wizard, but something about the position made the cornered animal inside her feel minutely better. That would be just her luck—the hottest man she’d ever seen in her life would be the one sent to murder her. She’d die an almost-virgin, since awkward fumblings in her younger, drunk experimentation stage surely didn’t count.

  “So you were part of the League,” she said quietly. “And now?”

  “I have no intention of becoming involved with the League again, but I need to know what their plans are, and why they’re interested in you. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  He took a step toward her, and she held her hands out to block him.

  “I need to go home. Back to my apartment. Dalriata said he’s not after me anymore. You just admitted you don’t know what the League of the Black Swan wants with me. So, while you figure it out, I’m going back to my real life,” she said, putting every ounce of defiance she could muster behind the statement.

  Kit, still seated on the couch, yipped.

  Right.

  “And I’m taking my fox with me,” she blurted out.

  Of course, then Rio felt like an idiot, and the grin quirking at the corners of Luke’s mouth didn’t help.

  “It’s a bad idea,” he said. “The League usually gets what it wants, and it never stops when it’s after something or someone. I know how they work. Let me protect you from them.”

  “What exactly is this damn League, anyway?”

  “The League is supposed to function like a supernatural police force. Back in 1300, the Knights Templar joined forces with the Summer Court Fae to defeat a bunch of demons who were trying to break free from what everybody thought was the mythological underworld.”

  Rio nodded. “Okay, but now we know the demons have their own realm that has nothing to do with Hades, hell, or any of our human beliefs.”

  “Right. But it didn’t matter at that point. The League’s stated mission ever since has been to protect humanity from evil, help the various supernatural factions negotiate treaties and keep the peace, and generally work as a force for good in the world.”

  “You said stated mission,” she said slowly. “What’s their real mission?”

  Luke threw his hands in the air. “I have no freaking idea. A megalomaniac took over the League back in the mid-1700s, and his goal was to conquer the world in a way that Alexander the Great never could have dreamed of, because this jerk had magic on his side. I left, came here, and never looked back. The last thing I ever expected to hear again was Black Swan.”

  Rio thought about it and realized that none of it mattered. She needed to get out, get back to her normal life, and stop playing games with wizards, kings, Fae, and supernatural justice leagues.

  For some weird reason, Wonder Woman popped into her mind, and she almost laughed.

  “I’m leaving. I’m taking my fox. You should have my cell phone number on file from the delivery service, so you can call me—well, if the phone company gives me a new phone with my same number—if something comes up I need to know, but right now I can’t take any more of this. I hope you understand.”

  She scanned the room for her backpack before remembering that it was still out in the office.

  “I understand, but I don’t agree. I think you should stay here where I can protect you until we figure this out,” he said.

  “You’re the Dark Wizard of Bordertown. You’ll figure it all out, I hope.”

  “Hope is exactly the wrong word, Rio. This is Bordertown. Most of the people who live here don’t hope—they never hope. That’s a fragile and precious commodity in this town.”

  Rio couldn’t accept that. If not hope, then what? A never-ending circle of drudgery and helplessness? Lives lived unnoticed, in the interstitial spaces between survival and despair?

  No. It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. Not even for an orphan whose only clues to her parents were a tarnished silver locket and a tiny stuffed fox.

  She lifted her chin and tried to stare down the most dangerous predator she’d ever met. The fact that he’d made her eggs helped a little. The fact that he was so damn sexy made it hurt.

  “Are you refusing to let me go?”

  “No, of course not. But I want to be very clear that you have a place here, anytime you need it. If anything the slightest bit weird or dangerous happens, call me or come back. I’ll reset the wards so they let you in whether I’m here or not.”

  She tried not to notice the way he was clenching his jaw, probably against yelling at her. She got that a lot. She also tried not to notice the lines of strain that had appeared on his face, probably from worrying about her.

  She never got that at all.

  Eileen, the receptionist, office manager, veterinary assistant, and all-around general everything at Dr. Black’s animal hospital, squeezed Kit in to an appointment between an elderly ocelot and a flatulent bulldog. Rio had delivered urgent test results to the office often enough that she knew how much of a favor it was. The practice was extremely busy because everyone said Dr. Black was the best veterinarian in town.

  The rumor was that she and her husband, who was also now Dr. Black, could both speak to animals and understand their responses. But the original Dr. Black had a special gift; she could visualize what was wrong inside her patients’ furry, scaly, and feathery bodies.

  Dr. Black the original smiled at Rio across the metal table on which Kit was stretched.

  “She’s going to be just fine,” the veterinarian said. “It was just a sprain, not a break, and a mild one at that. As you can see, I’ve wrapped the leg and given her something for the pain.”

  Kit had winced when the doctor inserted the needle, but she hadn’t moved at all or growled even a little. Rio was absurdly proud of her for that.

  The woman lightly rested her hand on Kit and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she smiled again. “Yes, definitely. We’ll give you a few pills, in case she has any residual pain, but she should be perfectly healthy in a day or two.”

  “Thank you so much, Dr. Black, for fitting us in, and for taking such good care of Kit. I was really worried,” Rio said.

  “You should be worried,” the vet said sternly. “Do you want to explain to me exactly how you let this lovely girl get so thin? Have you been starving her?”

  Dr. Black’s eyes lightened to a pale, feral yellow, and Rio began to worry for her own health if she didn’t do some explaining, fast.

  “I only rescued her today from a very bad man who had her chained to a desk. I promise I’m on the way to buy food for her, and I already gave her my breakfast,” she said quickly.

  The vet looked to Kit, as if for confirmation, and Kit must have vouched for Rio, because the vet’s eyes darkened back to a more human color and the muscles in her shoulders relaxed.

  “Good job on you, then.” Dr. Black awkwardly patted Rio’s arm, and Rio suddenly had the amusing thought that the vet didn’t quite know how to interact with nonanimal creatures.

  “I promise I’ll take good care of her,” Rio said.

  As she said the words, she realized they were true. She had been worried about the little fox, and she was already far more attached to her than made any sense at all
. Maybe it was because they had both escaped the unwanted and unsavory attentions of the Pict king.

  “Yes, yes,” Dr. Black murmured, waving Rio’s thanks aside. “She’s a beautiful creature—an absolutely superb specimen of her kind. I’d guess she’s about two years old.”

  “Kit, how old are you?” Rio looked into the little fox’s eyes, but Kit wasn’t answering.

  “She’s not saying,” Rio told Dr. Black. “I’m sorry.”

  Dr. Black raised one eyebrow, but it was Bordertown, so she didn’t ask any questions.

  “Bring her back if she has any further problems. Eileen will give you the pain pills and a list of recommended diet and the like, in case you’ve never dealt with foxes before.”

  With that, the vet was clearly done with the human portion of the appointment, and she bent down to coo in Kit’s ear. Rio didn’t catch all of it, but “my beautiful little girl” was in there, and Kit was obviously loving every moment of it. Rio grinned at the back of the doctor’s white coat as the woman left the room to go treat her next patient.

  “I like her,” she told Kit.

  The little fox sat up on the table and panted, almost giving the impression that she was agreeing.

  Rio briefly enjoyed the feeling of a task completed as she paid Eileen for the visit and tucked the written materials and little envelope of pain pills into her backpack. Kit insisted on walking, or at least that seemed to be pretty clearly what all the squirming and wiggling to get down had been about, so the two of them headed out on their own six feet for the next part of Rio’s plan: buying a new cell phone.

  The phone was easy—B Town Cellular even gave her an upgrade and the same phone number. Unfortunately, part three of her plan didn’t go nearly as well as expected.

  “I can’t believe she evicted me,” Rio told Kit for about the twelfth time.

  She figured it might take another twelve before it finally sank in. Her landlady—and, she’d thought, her friend—had looked Rio right in the eyes and lied like a banshee on a bender.

  No room. I thought you’d moved out. Did we agree that you were coming back next year, maybe the year after, dear?

  Oddly enough, Mrs. G hadn’t given up on her lame excuses until Kit, who’d been lurking behind Rio’s ankles, had yipped up at her. Mrs. G had inhaled sharply and backed away from the threshold of her doorway.

  “Where did you get a Yokai? Is she Zenko or Yako?” she’d demanded.

  “Her name is Kit, and other than that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  After that, the conversation had deteriorated until Rio had finally shoved Mrs. G’s envelope of cash back at her, nodded numbly when her landlady had mentioned storing Rio’s things until she got settled, and then taken her bike and wandered almost blindly off down the street. Now they were sitting on a bench in front of the bike store while Jeff installed a basket on the handlebars that was deep enough for Kit to use, and Rio still wasn’t sure what had just happened.

  “She evicted me,” Rio mumbled, feeling shell-shocked.

  Kit nudged Rio’s arm with her nose, then stared left toward the end of the street. Rio started to shake her head, but then the realization hit her over the head like a thunder god’s hammer. The end of the street.

  The end of Tchaikovsky Street, where the Black Swan Fountain burbled merrily away. The centerpiece of the square where lovers gathered and children played in the water all year long. Black Swan Fountain, Black Swan League—somebody was racking up the poultry and they were all arrayed against her.

  Do not forget the duck, Kit sent solemnly, and when Jeff came out with her bike, Rio was cracking up.

  “You sound like a hyena shifter on nitrous oxide, and let me tell you, I never want to run into one of those again,” Jeff said, grimacing. “I’ve been too traumatized to go back to the dentist ever since.”

  Naturally that image, or maybe the combined stress of the past couple of days, or both, made Rio laugh even harder.

  Kit fit perfectly in the basket and seemed content to ride along watching everything, wrapped in Rio’s spare jacket. The rain had blown over and the day was actually pretty gorgeous; a crisp fall day with sunbeams slanting across the street to fall in mud puddles as if illuminating jewels.

  So Rio was in a pretty cheerful mood when she moved on to the final part of her day’s plan, right up to the point where she walked in the door and waved to her boss.

  “You’re fired.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Rio lifted Kit out of the basket, rolled her bike into the space tucked behind the front corner of the Roadhouse, and set her bike lock. Not that it mattered if anybody stole the bike at this point. She didn’t have a job to need it for.

  “Well, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” she told Kit, almost apologizing, before she realized that carrying on a conversation with a fox had to look a little bit nuts.

  There weren’t very many people inside the Roadhouse. Rio looked around, interested, to see what other kind of people hung out in a bar in the middle of the afternoon. It was pretty much what she expected. A few seedy-looking Winter Fae played pool in one corner, six or seven goblins huddled around a big-screen TV in the back watching the rugby game and offering loud, creative, and obscene suggestions as to how the players could do a better job, and Clarice was at the bar, undoubtedly doling out drinks and astonishingly bad advice to the lovelorn, as usual.

  Miro was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best. She briefly wondered if he’d had indigestion from the barbecue of the night before, but then a wave of nausea pushed the random thought out of her mind.

  “Hello, Clarice,” she intoned in her best sepulchral, Hannibal Lecter tone.

  Clarice, a short, curvy, sparkling-eyed ball of optimism, groaned. “I’ve never heard that one before. Like, for example, every single time you walk in here.”

  “I figured you’d hear it from everybody,” Rio said. “Does anybody watch the greats anymore?”

  “Nobody in Bordertown cares about watching horror movies, Rio, when half the time we are all living in one. Or, at least, in a freak show. Did you hear about the duck?”

  Rio started laughing. “I saw the duck. What happened to the egg?”

  Clarice pointed to the Jeggleston Ale tap, and Rio nodded. “Yes, and make it a tall one. You would not believe the day I had. May I also have a bowl of water for my pal here?”

  Clarice stood on tiptoe and peeked over the bar until she could see Kit sitting on Rio’s jacket. “Did you find a new friend? She’s gorgeous.”

  Rio glanced down at Kit, whom she could swear was preening at the attention. “I think she’s a little vain, too,” she whispered.

  Kit bared her teeth, and Rio grinned. At least one of them was having an okay day.

  Clarice slid the tall glass of ale across the bar, and Rio took a long drink. By the time Clarice came back from the kitchen with a bowl of water, Rio had downed almost half of the beer. When she stepped off the bar stool to bend down and give Kit the water, the room wobbled a little bit.

  “Whoa. I think I need food. How about a hamburger platter—wait.”

  Rio fumbled in her backpack for the paper Dr. Black had given her. It didn’t say anything about hamburgers being forbidden, and Kit looked hungry, too. At least as far as Rio could read the facial expression of a fox she’d only known for a few hours.

  “Make that two hamburger platters, but no bun on the second one. Probably no French fries either.”

  Kit growled a little, and Rio rolled her eyes. “Fine, already. She wants French fries, too.”

  Clarice’s eyes widened, and it was at least three full beats before she responded. “Suddenly you’re talking to a fox,” she finally said.

  Rio drained the rest of her glass and held it up for a refill.

  “Let me tell you about my day,” she said to her best friend. “I think you’ll be surprised I’m not heading straight for the whiskey.”

  Nearly an hour later, Rio was dragging h
er final, lonely French fry through ketchup as she finished her story. Kit, her own hamburger and a few of her fries long gone, was sleeping curled up on Rio’s jacket on the floor.

  When Rio looked up, Clarice, who’d pulled up her own bar stool a good half hour previously and yelled at the busboy to cover the bar, was staring at Rio with her mouth hanging open.

  “Say something already,” Rio pleaded. “I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do.”

  Clarice’s mouth opened and closed a few times, she bobbed her head, and her red curls bounced around as if even her hair were shocked at the story.

  “You slept with Luke Oliver?”

  Rio wildly scanned the immediate vicinity to see who’d heard, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them, and Bobby the busboy was at the other end of the bar, trying to flirt with a water demon who had huge breasts. Of course, when you could manipulate water, you could pretty much conjure your double Ds whenever you wanted them, but that was so not the point.

  Crap.

  “Really? I just spent an hour telling you my story—a story in which I nearly died, I might add—and that’s where you want to go with it?”

  Clarice blinked. “You slept with Luke Oliver?”

  Rio reached over, grabbed her friend by the shoulders, and gave her a little shake. “Snap out of it. I did not sleep with him the way you make it sound. There was no naked. There was no panting or moaning. There was only sleeping, and it’s because we were both sort of injured at the time.”

  “You slept—” Clarice blinked again, and then she finally seemed to snap out of it. “Okay, okay. But don’t blame me for being freaked out when you tell me you slept with one of the hottest guys in town—the same guy you had a full-blown crush on not too long ago, by the way.”

  Rio felt her cheeks heating up. “It wasn’t a crush. You make it sound so junior high. It was more of an . . . attraction.”

  “Riiight. An attraction in which you lovingly described his utter hotness to me every single time you had a delivery to his office,” Clarice retorted.