2 Hungry, Hungry Hoodoo
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Authors: Liz Schulte
By Liz Schulte
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ISBN: B00BIRPM7K
Copyright © 2013 by Liz Schulte
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Table of Contents
For my third floor girls
.
I stood in my scorched, hollowed-out yoga studio, turning in a listless circle, too numb to feel. The storefront was a wet, smoldering pile of ash and the building, merely a shell.
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice. Numb was too small of a word—shell-shocked was more accurate.
“No.” Femi’s voice came from the doorway. I didn’t even know she was there. She prowled around the room, silent as death, her green cat eyes collecting every detail. “It happened overnight.”
I took a shaky breath. “That’s good.”
“Officially this is an electrical fire,” Cheney said, and Sy snorted. I looked back at the guys, but mostly at Cheney. Just looking at him made my knees a little weak.
“Why would anyone want to burn down your studio?” Sy asked. “It’s just so …”
Evil, hurtful, devastating—
“Bold,” Femi supplied.
I nodded and kicked a piece of sodden, smoking wood.
I hadn’t been back here in months, but losing my studio this way felt like seeing a part of myself destroyed.
“Was it rebels?” I whispered with equal parts suspicion and surprise. I hadn’t figured out my relationship with the rebels, but maybe they were as hostile toward me as Cheney believed. “Or the elves?” That made more sense . . . They really hated me. Most of them refused to acknowledge me, even though I was their queen consort or whatever.
Not for the first time, I wondered if the cost of Cheney and me being together was an unfair one for him to pay. It seemed he had one fire to put out after another because of us—because of
me
.
I glanced at Cheney. With his wild hair, gleaming golden eyes, and sharp-tipped ears, he looked grim and breathtaking in the scorched, dark space. He no longer used his glamour—had chosen not to disguise his elfin features with human ones—ever since he forcibly took the crown from his father and became Erlking. It was something else I was going to have to get used to—much like this constant pull in my chest toward him.
“Rebels,” Cheney said with an air of finality.
Sy lifted his golden eyebrows, and I bit my lip and turned away from them. I didn’t know what to think anymore. On one hand I had my cousin, Sy, who I was beginning to think I didn’t know nearly enough about. He seemed to know a little about everything happening in the Abyss. Sy was connected, no doubt, but was he impartial? Even though we were related, I didn’t feel a familial connection, so it was hard to imagine he was only involved to help me. Not being able to remember my life as one of them, and being told that I’d chosen to come to earth as a human rather than recalling that information myself, had been infuriating before—and was driving me insane now.
Sy wanted me to come and stay with him until my memory returned and I figured out which side I should fall on. He thought the fact that I’d apparently had some sort of relationship with Jaron, the rebel leader, meant I needed to distance myself from Cheney. And it probably was the prudent thing to do, but I refused.
Then there was Cheney, the Erlking and my magically bound husband. He definitely wasn’t impartial, but from what I had seen and learned about him since he walked back into my life, he was a good man. The trouble was I couldn’t bring myself to fully trust my feelings for him. I’d dabbled in magic long enough to know that spells having to do with the heart were tricky. Done right they could make a person with no feelings for another person suddenly be madly in love. Having a husband was scary enough; having a magically bound husband who I never had a chance to choose kept me on edge most of the time.
I was walking a thin line, and a strong wind in any direction could tip me. If I chose to explore my rebel connections, I could lose Cheney—and he’d waited so long to get me back, I didn’t know how much more he would take. But ignoring the connection might mean I was turning my back on what I believed.
I lifted my hand and touched Cheney’s smooth, lovely face. Real or not, right now I loved him.
And maybe I didn’t have a decision looming over me. Maybe I was exactly where I was supposed to be, so why ruin everything by overthinking? That’s what I wanted to believe, anyway, but a nagging feeling said I could be wrong—stupid elf side.
Cheney wrapped an arm around my waist, and I almost sighed with relief as I leaned my head against his shoulder. Magical bonds are not to be taken lightly. The magnetic pull of them was painful when denied. When we weren’t touching, I felt his absence—a dull, constant ache in my center. If the need wasn’t fulfilled, it grew.
Cheney endured years of agony while we were separated, while I was living a human life and felt nothing. Now that my elf side was back in full force, I could hardly make it half a day without wanting to curl up and cry if he wasn’t at my side. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes to the ashes of my past that surrounded me. I had planned on never coming back anyway, right? So this didn’t matter. Not really. Maybe losing the studio—my last physical connection to my fully human side—was for the best. I had to find a way to be content in my new life. It was where I belonged now. I struggled with a lump in my throat.
“So why did you call us here?” Cheney asked Femi, and I frowned. Wasn’t the destruction of my studio reason enough?
Femi waved us to the back and nudged my office door open with her foot. A knife stuck out of the center of my blackened desk. I pulled away from Cheney to get a closer look. A picture of Michael was tacked to the top of the desk with the knife.
“Do you know who this is?” Femi asked.
“My ex-fiancé. Michael,” I breathed. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Michael’s number. It went directly to voice mail. I looked back at them.
“He’s a human?” Sy asked. I nodded. “What’s his last name?”
“Christian.”
Sy pulled out his own phone and walked away.
“Is this a threat?” I looked between Femi and Cheney. “We have to find him. Warn him.”
Cheney scowled. “No, we need to slow down and think things through. How are you going to warn him when you can’t tell him about our world? What if he’s already dead?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What we need is to have your coven and your grandmother move back into the castle until we can be sure they’re safe. What we
don’t
need is to panic and involve humans.”
“They can’t just drop everything. They have lives.”
“Exactly, and I’m protecting those lives. They’re an asset to our kingdom.”
I sputtered, not knowing what to say. My friends were not
assets
. They were practically my family. I didn’t appreciate him viewing them in such a cold manner.
“Cheney’s right, Selene. Don’t panic. We’ll figure everything out,” Femi said. “Wait and see what Sy’s up to.”
I called each of the girls, who all agreed a little too willingly to come back—I guess no one likes their day job—and let Cheney call my grandmother while we waited for Sy to return. Finally he reappeared in the doorway, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn jeans—a pose that made his biceps bulge the sleeves of his faded black Batman shirt. As ever when I studied him, I looked for a family resemblance—and found none. Similar golden, tan skin and slightly pointed ears, but that was it. His hair was as blond as mine was dark, and his eyes were so silver they were almost mirrored. Mine had been described as pools of honey. My inability to see or feel our blood connection aside, however, I liked Sy a lot. He was open, friendly, and, best of all, he never compared me to the way I used to be.
“Michael was reported missing this morning.” Sy’s eyes locked on me. “You want me to start looking into this?”
I nodded and Cheney said, “If you have time, great. Unfortunately, Selene and I have too much to do to allow the rebels to divert our attention. I hope the human is alive.”
“Right, you wouldn’t want to waste your time
saving
someone’s life,” Femi said.
