Maximum Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 3 (12 page)

His attention landed on the single framed photo resting on her dresser. Abandoning his post by the window, he stepped forward and cocked his head, inspecting the smiling pair. He recognized Willa, of course, but the older blonde woman standing beside her looked oddly familiar for some reason. Frowning, he picked up the bejeweled frame, his confusion heightening while he stared into the other woman’s sharp blue eyes.

Finally—like a thunderbolt—it hit him who he was looking at. “What the
fuck
?” His gaze veered from the picture he clutched to the closed bathroom door, his head spinning with the biggest question of all time.

How the hell did a woman who’d been dead for the past twenty-two years end up in a recent photograph looking very much alive?

Chapter Ten

Harrison eyed the trio of businessmen skulking into the entrance of
The Wet Spot
, a local strip joint. He’d never understand humankind’s obsession with paying to see jiggling body parts. It only reinforced his disdain for the moronic species.

He crossed the steaming pavement and shoved open the establishment’s front door. Patrons sat at the various tables footing the garishly lit stage where a female human with large knockers got intimate with a metal pole. He ignored all of them. Stupid mesmerized humans were more of a waste of breathing space than those damn pufferfish shifters he’d outsmarted the previous night. No, his only reason for being here was the leviathan currently pouring shots behind the bar.

He despised the necessity of involving Kragos in this mission. The ancient leviathan reminded him too much of his previous mentor—Seven. Although he didn’t adopt nearly as many tedious personas as that slave-driver Seven, Kragos did hail from the same old guard of soul collectors. There weren’t many of them left, not after the shame their species was forced to endure after being excommunicated from Hell all those hundreds of years ago for hoarding too many of the souls for their own private collections. But many of those dumb bastards still felt some stupid-ass glory in their trivial collection of human souls.

Kragos’s status as a soul collector made him a wild card—not entirely trustworthy in Harrison’s book, since he couldn’t be certain how Kragos would react once he learned of the ultimate plan to destroy the humans. Silly as it was, Kragos might get a little pissy about having his precious catalog of humans wiped off the face of the earth in one fell swoop. Hence Harrison’s decision to keep him in the dark.

The only thing he needed from the old fart was a piece of DNA in order to access the directory the elders held on all existing leviathans. Once armed with the names and locations of his fellow levis, Harrison could assemble enough assistance in springing his new partner from her prison. With that necessary step out of the way, he could focus on the next plan of attack—finding that fucking shark, and, ultimately, the girl.

Grim determination a molten fire in his gut, Harrison approached the bar. Kragos looked up and their gazes collided. The ancient leviathan might have been a master at his disguise, but even the most talented of their species couldn’t completely hide the natural reptilian slant of their pupils. Most humans were too dazzled by a leviathan’s glamour spell to notice this telling trait, but it was there for the few who knew enough to look for it.

As he’d expected, Kragos didn’t seem entirely pleased to see him. Their species tended to be extremely territorial, particularly the soul collectors. The leviathan lowered the bottle of whiskey and shot him a hard glare. “What do you want?”

It didn’t appear they’d be indulging in small talk. Fine by him. The sooner he put some distance between this place that stank of humans, the better. He glanced at the pair of drunkards slumped on nearby stools. Besides having several pints of alcohol swimming in their bloodstreams, they no doubt were deeply submerged within the comforting cloak of Kragos’s glamour. No need to worry about eavesdroppers here. “Merely to make amends. I know Seven poached on your territory. I hope there will be no ill will between us as a result.”

“I’m glad that fucking son of a bitch is dead.”

That made two of them.

Kragos’s expression turned suspicious. “If you came here hoping I’d take you under my tentacle, think again. I have no desire for a damn useless errand boy.”

It took every ounce of Harrison’s control not to let his animosity show. Kragos could look down on him all he wanted. The day would soon come when the arrogant bastard would be the one to bow before Harrison. “Very well. I confess my disappointment, however. Surely there would have been no greater honor than learning the trade from such a skilled soul collector.” Somehow he managed not to retch. Keeping up this pretense of being a fawning pupil gave him severe indigestion. But at least with Kragos, their association would be short-lived.

“This is true,” Kragos offered with a nod. “I am the best.”

“Then come, let us drink to your greater glory.”

Kragos’s eyes lit up at the nauseating toast. Stupid dipshit. The elder reached for two glasses and topped each off with the whiskey. He passed one to Harrison before slamming his own shot. His beady eyes pinned Harrison in place, an unspoken challenge riding his features. Masking his displeasure at the nasty beverage resting before him, Harrison lifted the glass and choked down the amber liquid with a sputter. The older leviathan chuffed a mocking laugh and pivoted to return the bottle to the glass shelf. His motions swift, Harrison swiped Kragos’s glass and licked the rim, absorbing the other leviathan’s DNA. The bonded link would last less than an hour. Plenty of time though to break into Kragos’s library—and the sealed directory.

He returned the glass to its rightful place just as Kragos turned back around. Abandoning his perch on the stool, Harrison smoothed the lapels of his butler’s uniform. Soon he’d be able to permanently ditch the atrocious outfit. Maybe he’d light a ceremonial bonfire to send the suit up in ashes. “If you change your mind about taking on a protégée, let me know.” After offering a deferential bow that made him seethe inside, Harrison stepped away from the bar.

A loud and grating voice carried from a nearby table. He glanced toward the offender, his mouth twisting in revulsion as he took in the eel shifter’s tacky wardrobe. Where did the cretin shop? Douchebags “R” Us? Snorting, Harrison started to return his attention to the exit, but the next words out of the eel’s mouth stalled him short.

“I tell you one thing—that goddamn shark ever lays a hand on me again, I’m electrocuting him for dinner.” A laugh that resembled the braying of a donkey pelted from the shifter. “Fuck yeah. Seared shark. Ain’t nothing I’d like better to snack on.”

Harrison’s gaze panned between the eel and its companion. Satisfied triumph unfurled within him. What were the odds he’d walked in here with one objective and end up with the answers to two?

A slow smile sliding in place, he strode toward the obnoxious eel.

Chapter Eleven

Willa gave herself a cursory glance in the bathroom mirror, a groan springing to her lips. If it was possible for someone to look like they’d just indulged in a sex marathon with a shark, she definitely fit the bill. So much for her resolution to keep her hands off Max.

Smoothing a palm over her sweat-dampened hair, she twisted the doorknob and walked into the bedroom. Max stood next to the dresser, gripping the photo of her and Aunt Aurele, his face a canvas of shock. She didn’t know what to make of his expression.

His focus skipped from the picture and locked on her. “What the
hell
is going on here?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stalked forward. If not for his thunderous look, she might have become extremely distracted by his naked, mouthwatering bod again. He held up the frame, his forefinger jabbing at her aunt’s smiling countenance. “This is Aurele Telluride, damn it.”

“No, it’s Aurele Jameson. My aunt.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “Your
aunt
? Not goddamn likely.”

His adamancy left her baffled. “I think of the two of us, I have the better insight into who I’m related to.”

“You honestly expect me to believe your aunt is the former advisor to the King of Atlantis? A woman who’s been dead for more than two decades?”

Atlantis? Did that place even exist? She’d always assumed it was just a myth. “Contrary to your theory, my aunt is very much alive, and she happens to be a retired librarian.”

Max pointed to the photograph again. “I’m telling you, this woman is Aurele Telluride. My father has a picture in his den that shows him standing next to Aurele while she and the king swore him in as sheriff. Other than looking a little older here—” he tapped the frame, “—the woman is identical.”

“Okay, so they look alike. Coincidences happen.”

“Just like it’s a coincidence their first name is the same? A name that’s pretty damn unusual, in case you didn’t notice.”

Yeah, that was a little weird. But not completely impossible. She shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I want to meet her. Now.”

She gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“But…it’s almost six o’clock at night.”

“Not exactly late.”

She plunked her hands on her hips. “It is if it requires driving into Atlanta.”

“Then I guess we better hit the road immediately.”

A growl leapt from her throat. “Look, I let you have your beastly way with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to start letting you boss me around.”

“Beastly, my ass. You loved it. And the sooner we get this mystery solved, the sooner we can return to bed and you can love it a dozen more times tonight.”

Right about then, she wished she possessed the ability to shoot fire missiles from her eyes. He would be such toast. “If I agree to this, I fully expect your groveling apology when it’s proved you’re wrong.”

“Deal.”

Roughly three hours later, Willa screeched into the driveway of her aunt’s small bungalow. Lamplight silhouetted the bay window. She’d phoned earlier, making sure it was okay to stop by for an impromptu visit. Despite her aunt’s enthusiasm at receiving company, Willa still wanted to club Max. She jumped out of the Taurus and hurried to catch up with him before he reached the house’s porch. “Let’s get something clear. Under no circumstances are you to start with your insane ramblings about my aunt resembling a dead woman. Capiche?”

“Fine.”

She didn’t quite trust his easy compliance. For now, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but if he so much as peeped a word that might upset her aunt, he was so getting the toe of her sandal up his ass. They climbed the steps together and she rang the bell. A moment later her aunt flung open the door and scooped Willa into her arms. Aurele’s beloved gardenia perfume embraced Willa as surely as her aunt’s fierce hug, causing Willa’s eyes to mist.

“Good Lord, look how skinny you are. We’ll fix that right up. I’ll defrost some lasagna.”

Carbohydrates were her aunt’s solution to pretty much everything. Scrubbing away her tears, Willa untangled herself from Aurele’s hold and scooted sideways. Aurele’s focus immediately drifted to Max, and Willa cleared her throat, sending him a subtle warning to behave. “This is…” Oh jeez, what did she call him?
Rescuer? Guy I had amazing monkey sex with twice?

“Max Truitt,” he offered, extending his hand.

Oh yeah. That worked too.

Smiling, Aurele tucked her palm within Max’s much larger one. “It’s lovely to meet any of Willa’s friends. Please call me—” Something strange flickered in Aurele’s eyes and her mouth slackened, her cheery welcome slowly dissolving.

Confused, Willa jerked her stare toward Max, ready to blast him one if he was crushing her aunt’s hand or something equally despicable. But the only thing she noticed was the challenging expression Max wore.

He ended the shake and tipped his head. “Aurele Telluride, I presume?”

Grinding her molars, Willa sent him an incensed glare. “What did I tell you about that?”

“It-it’s okay, Willa dear.”

“No, it’s not. I won’t put up with—”

“He’s right.” Sighing, Aurele raised her hand, turning it palm up. Residual energy in a brilliant shade of aquamarine danced along her skin. “Busted by my own DNA.”

Willa frowned. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“Your
aunt
is a shark. Just like me.”

The ground beneath Willa’s feet felt unstable. Knees wobbling, she stared at Max, then Aurele. “What? B-but that’s…impossible.”

“No, it isn’t.” Aurele’s fingers trembled as they cupped Willa’s elbow. “This day was never supposed to come. You were never to suspect, much less know.”

Willa swallowed the uneasy disbelief clogging her throat. “Know what? That you’re a shark?”

“Yes, amongst other things.”

“What other things?” Willa demanded, her agitation growing.

Aurele stroked Willa’s arm soothingly. “We can’t have this conversation outside for the entire world to hear.”

Willa glanced around, seeing nothing but the darkened porches of Aurele’s neighbors. “But there’s no one even out here other than us.”

“It’s better to be safe.” Aurele herded her through the doorway. “Spies could be anywhere.”

Spies
? Convinced that her life was turning one shade closer to crazy, Willa gulped and stalled her steps just past the entry, hugging her chest.

Max closed the door behind them, his expression pensive. Aurele’s attention shifted to him again, her gaze assessing. “Truitt? You’re Grayson’s boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Aurele nodded. “I should have noticed the resemblance sooner. You’re the spitting image of him. I always held great respect for your father. We studied at Atlantis University together, you know.”

Max shoved his hands in his pants pockets, his attitude strangely deferential. “Yes, he spoke of you often. He was deeply saddened when he heard about…”

“My death?”

Willa rubbed her temples, the conversation making absolutely no sense. “What do you mean your
death
? So help me, if one of you doesn’t explain what the hell any of this means, I’m going to go insane.” Oh wait. Too late.