Rising Fury (Hexing House Book 1) (2 page)

The light was flickering up in the loft. Thea reached the ladder and paused. There was no sound, but there was a smell, like cloves. She climbed.

It—or he, as it turned out—was sitting on the bench that stretched across the loft, the lamp beside him, waiting.

“Waiting for me?” she asked out loud. Her voice was high-pitched and tentative, like a little girl’s.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He looked like an old man, with the exception of the folded wings that rose above the sides of his head, tipped with talons. It was too dim to swear to it, but Thea thought he was indeed purple: his wings deeply so, his skin a ghastly lavender-gray she would have imagined for a zombie. His face was worn, his head completely bald.

“What are you?” she asked. “You don’t look like a dragon.”

“We go by
fury
in English, although of course that word has much older roots. Maybe you’re familiar with ancient mythology?”

Thea, who had voluntarily read maybe four books in her entire life, shook her head.

“Good,” he said. “Saves me the trouble of disabusing you of your preconceived notions. My name is Graves.”

She didn’t acknowledge the introduction. “What did you do with Flannery?”

“
With
her? Nothing. She left, just like her note said. Of her own free will.” The odd light distorted his face, making him look almost like a gargoyle. Or the demon Aunt Bridget half-suspected him to be. He certainly didn’t look like the kind of creature who went around innocently doing nothing.

A quick, sharp surge of anger made Thea braver. “Bullshit.”

He smiled, but there was nothing reassuring in it. “Now if you want to ask what I did
to
her, that’s a different question.”

Thea crossed her arms, mainly to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. She badly wanted to sit down, but that seemed too informal, somehow. She waited.

“I hexed your cousin,” Graves said. “A hex of sacrifice, to be exact, as punishment for the sin of covetousness.” Apparently assuming that her lack of mythological education meant she didn’t know her Bible either, he added, “That means envy, basically.”

“I know what covetousness is. Who gave you the right to punish her?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential.”

“Come again?”

“Our client information is strictly confidential.”

“Your client? Someone
hired
you to hex my cousin?”

“Exactly.” Graves stood, and Thea noticed for the first time that he was wearing a bespoke suit that would have cost thousands. He pulled a card from the inside pocket of his jacket and held it out to her. She hesitated before stepping forward, first to take it, then to read it in the lamplight.

Hexing House
, it read.
Purveyors of Justice and Righteous Vengeance since Ancient Times
. Below that was a toll free phone number and an email address,
[email protected]
.

The past year had been stressful, the past couple of days even more so. Thea was exhausted, underweight, crippled by unrelenting anxiety. She wasn’t really surprised that her mind had snapped. She could only assume that was what was going on here.

Now that Graves was standing, she sat down on the bench and kept staring at the card. “So,” she said after a minute. “You’re a mythological creature, but a corporate one. With email.”

“Who could do business these days without email?”

“And your business is cursing people, and you’re claiming that somebody hired you to curse Flannery. For covetousness.”

“Is her being envious to the point of hurting someone, enough for them to want revenge, impossible for you to believe of her?”

No. That part is easy to believe
. Thea felt a stab of disloyalty and said nothing, not trusting her voice with a lie.

“The hex of sacrifice normally causes this kind of extreme reaction,” Graves said. “The target, seeing the error of looking outward instead of appreciating the things they should have been holding dear, gives up those things as penance.”

“What, forever?”

He waved a hand, and Thea noticed he had no fingernails. “No, no, she’ll be back. The hex will wear off.”

“When?”

“When she learns her lesson. It varies from target to target. This will be an ordeal for her, but that’s not always a bad thing, you know. Oftentimes the target will go on to live a better life afterward.”

Thea shook her head. She wasn’t really having this conversation. Surely she was actually in a nice cozy room at some posh mental hospital, the kind she could afford now, drugged up on something expensive and potent. “For the sake of argument, let’s say I believed any of this. You could remove this hex? If you made a mistake.”

“We didn’t.”

“You must have. She doesn’t deserve this. And neither does her family. Her fiancé was arrested, did you know that?”

“Our investigative team thoroughly examines the merits of every case before we take it on.”

“Well, they got this one wrong. You need to get her back here.”

“That would be a violation of company policy. What she does now is up to her. Just as what you do now is up to you.”

“Meaning what?”

“You’re a very powerful person. I can feel it radiating from you.”

Thea laughed, a not-quite-sane sound rising up in the darkness. She was the least powerful person she knew.

“You see things, don’t you?” Graves asked.

She gave no answer, but he didn’t seem to require one.

“You even resisted my magic.”

“You tried one of these hexes on me? That’s what that was?”

He sat down beside her, but not so close as to be alarming. The smell of cloves hit her again. “No, not really. Hexing a non-target would also be against policy. What I was casting at you was diluted. Think of it as a junior version of a hex.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“You resisted it. And with no training whatsoever. Hex resistance is very rare, even among furies, let alone among humans. I don’t know that we’ve got a single member of the colony right now who’s capable of it.”

“So, what, you want me to tell you how I did it? Because I don’t know.”

“I want to offer you a job.”

This time, when Thea started laughing, she couldn’t stop. She laughed until she couldn’t breathe, until her shallow gasps brought black dots swarming over her eyes, and she fainted dead away.

She woke up in her old bedroom in the farmhouse, in the same pajamas she’d left it in. She would have dismissed the whole thing as a nightmare, if not for two things: first, the tape and the bell were not on her door. She never would have gone to sleep without both of them intact. She simply couldn’t.

Second, the bell was still in her coat pocket, tangled up with a business card.

Purveyors of Justice and Righteous Vengeance
.

On the back was a hand-written note in tiny, neat letters:

You weren’t able to continue our meeting. Have rescheduled for 4PM today. See you then—G
.

“You’re Teddie!”

Thea stiffened but tried to smile at the fake blonde rushing across the parking lot as fast as the toddler she pulled along could manage.

“Teddie Gideon!”

“It’s Thea.”

“What on earth are you doing out here?” the woman asked.

Thea didn’t know whether she meant the courthouse in particular, or this part of the country in general. She answered the latter, as vaguely as possible. “I grew up here, actually. Since I was eleven.”

“Really?” The squeal in her voice made Thea’s teeth hurt. “I never heard that.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s something they brag about.” Lord knew Aunt Bridget never spoke of it.

“No, that can’t be true, you’re a
celebrity
. Didn’t you win
Celebrity Dance-Off
?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that was the girlfriend before me.”

The woman looked a little embarrassed, like maybe not winning
Celebrity Dance-Off
was a flaw that it was in poor taste to bring up. “Well, you were the prettiest of his girlfriends, anyway. I really thought you were the one. I honestly thought Baird was finally ready to settle down.” They always talked like this, like they knew him. “I was so sad when you broke up.” Another embarrassed look. “I mean, probably not as sad as you were.”

Lady, you have no idea.
Thea nodded and made a noncommittal noise.

“You two just looked so beautiful together. Are you still in touch?”

“We’re caring friends, and wish each other nothing but the best,” Thea said automatically.

She was spared whatever the woman was going to say next by the toddler, who had begun to cry. “Well, I’d better get inside. Thanks for chatting, Teddie.”

Thea didn’t bother to correct her this time, just smiled and waved as the woman walked away. As soon as she was out of sight, Thea half-collapsed against the side of the building, trying to control her breathing and calm the panic in her chest before she completely humiliated herself. She was still leaning against the wall, counting bricks, when Pete finally came out of the courthouse.

She hadn’t seen him in over a year, since Flannery’s engagement party. Even under the circumstances, unshaven and beside himself with worry, he looked good. Lean and strong and honest. His suit was cheap, but Pete had always cleaned up well. They stepped toward each other, as if to hug, then thought better of it.

“I can’t thank you enough for the bail, Gumdrop.” An old pet name that he used reflexively, and that Flannery always pretended not to notice.

The bail had been set at a ridiculous sum. Luckily for Thea, few sums were truly ridiculous for her anymore. Baird had been paid twenty-seven million dollars for the last
Benjamin Stake
movie. She’d told his lawyer that since the film would undoubtedly tank if word of This Unfortunate Incident got out, she felt that twenty-seven million was a fitting payment for her silence. He’d paid it so quickly she cursed herself for not asking for more. She supposed some women would have been ashamed to take Baird’s money, but she’d always been practical. And she felt she’d more than earned it.

“You’re welcome,” she said to Pete. “I’ve also found you a lawyer. He’s flying in this afternoon. He’ll call you on your cell when he lands.”

Pete nodded, then swallowed. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know, Pete. But we’ll find her.” Thea glanced at her watch. Almost three-thirty. “Look, I’ve got something I’ve got to do. With Aunt Bridget. Are you coming to her place, or should I drop you at yours?”

“Mine for now. I’m exhausted, and I just want to be alone. But I’ll drop in on her later.”

Thea nodded. She’d only asked because she knew that was what he’d say.

“Pete,” she asked as she drove him home, “was Flannery having any trouble? Maybe with another woman?”

“First of all, do not speak of her in the past tense. What do you mean by trouble?”

Thea shifted uncomfortably and squeezed the wheel. He knew what kind. “Like the kind she used to have with me. You know. Before.”

It was a minute before he answered. Thea hated to bring it up. They had never talked about it, not directly, and she hoped they never would. After a minute he said, “No, nothing like that. Flannery’s been really stressed out, but mostly about money. You know, Bridget’s place is falling apart. My dad hasn’t been well, and my sisters are no help at all. I’m not exactly raking it in. We don’t know how we’ll manage to take care of ourselves and our parents, let alone if we want kids one day.”

Could that be it? Had Flannery coveted somebody’s money? But that made no sense. How could she have acted on it, that would make someone seek revenge? Hack into some bank, reroute funds to a Swiss account? That didn’t happen in real life, or if it did, not at the hands of someone like Flannery.

“I really appreciate you finding me a lawyer. I’m grateful, but…” Pete bit his lip and looked out the window.

“Go ahead and ask, Pete. Whatever it is.”

“I was just wondering whether you’ve considered a private investigator.”

Thea lied quite comfortably, assuring Pete that she had calls out to several. It would do him no good to hear that Flannery seemed to be beyond the reach of normal human channels. Maybe this way, when she dropped him off he could lull himself to sleep with a little hope instead of a lot of gin.

When Thea got back to the farmhouse, Bridget was in the kitchen again. She insisted on being present for this so-called meeting, and assuming Graves would come to them at the appointed time, had spent the morning cleaning. As if a shining floor might convince him to bring Flannery back. But activity always gave her a sense of control.

“Aunt Bridget, you are not seriously making tea for this guy.”

“I most certainly am. I’ve got fresh scones, too. I’d just as soon punch him in the nose, but we need to be reasonable. We want his help, and nothing gets a man on your side like good food.”

“He’s not a man.”

“No. But I imagine it works roughly the same way for monsters.”

Thea shrugged and went to get some napkins, but Aunt Bridget grabbed her wrist on her way back to the table.

“He’ll be here soon,” Bridget said. “Just promise me you’ll listen to his offer. With an open mind.”

“You think it’s a real offer? You can’t think he’s telling the truth.”

Bridget turned away and sighed. “I don’t know if I do or I don’t.
Thou shalt not covet
was never the easiest commandment for Flannery. All that competition between you two, over Pete…”

“There was no competition.” Thea sat down and started shredding one of the napkins.

“No,” Bridget agreed. “Because you let her win. Sometimes I think that was worse.” She sighed and took the chair across from her niece. “I’m not blaming you, Thea. There was no way for you to win in that situation. I’m just saying, if this is a cover-up, they’re doing a good job with their story. They know my daughter.” She shook her head. “But most of me still thinks it
is
a cover-up, that they took her for God knows what reason, and they’re the only ones who know where Flannery is.”

“I’m worried you’re right,” said Thea.

“But either way, surely you can see that getting in with them must be our best chance for getting her back. We’ll need more than scones, here.”

“So you’re saying you want me to play along with him.”

“I want you to gain his trust. Investigate whatever is going on at this Hexing House. Either you find out what really happened, or if he’s telling the truth, you find out how to remove this curse they put on her so she can come home.”

Thea stared at the bits of napkin all over the table, then scooped them into her palm. “I put bells on my doors,” she said.

“What?”

“Bells. I put bells on my doors, so I’ll hear it if somebody comes in. Tape, too. It makes that tearing noise, you know. I listen for it in my sleep. I put bells on the windows, if they have latches. I won’t go out unless I have to. Sometimes I have to leave my cart right where it is and walk out of the grocery store, because there are too many people in there. They stare at me. And I can smell them, there are too many, I just can’t stand it.” She looked up at her aunt. “I am not brave enough for this, Aunt Bridget. Not anymore.”

Bridget leaned forward and put her hand over Thea’s, gently, but her eyes were hard. “Then who else will do it? What’s the alternative? Let Flannery disappear forever so you can stay home with your bells?”

She was right. Aunt Bridget and Uncle Gary had saved her life when they took her in. Thea believed it was nothing less. But her presence in their house had changed Flannery, and not for the better. She owed them this, Bridget and Flannery both. If there was anything she could do to get to the bottom of this and bring Flannery home, she needed to do it. Even if it meant going undercover, like a character in one of Baird’s movies.

“I’ll listen with an open mind,” she said. “I promise.”

And she did, although she continued to think she might be hallucinating all of it from a drug-induced stupor in some hospital. It gave the whole thing an unreal quality that, maybe, made it easier to be brave.

Graves was purple, all right, now that she saw him in full light. Not just the purplish-gray skin and the deep purple wings, but his lips, mouth, the rings around his eyes. It was like his blood was purple. His eyes were brown, though, and the brows above them gray. He wore another expensive suit, charcoal pinstripe with two precise slits in the back to accommodate his wings.

He thanked Aunt Bridget, whose presence did not seem to surprise or bother him, for her hospitality. Bridget stiffened when he pulled out her chair for her, but she only nodded her thanks and sat.

“Before you say anything, I’m putting a deal on the table,” Graves said. “I’ll try to find your cousin and lift the hex, if you accept my job offer.”

Thea didn’t trust this, and she wouldn’t leave Flannery’s fate to him, no matter what he said. But it was an interesting offer. “Wouldn’t that be against policy?” she asked.

He didn’t seem to notice her sarcasm. “Yes, but it’s not easy to recruit good talent. There just isn’t that much talent to recruit. Consider it a signing bonus.”

“And what exactly is this job? I have to be a purveyor of justice and righteous vengeance?”

“You
get
to be a purveyor of justice and righteous vengeance. Or do you like living the way you do now? A powerless little coward?”

Aunt Bridget made an offended noise, but Thea only stared at him, wondering how he knew. He didn’t have to know about the bells, though, to know that much. She’d fainted in his presence only the night before.

Graves leaned toward her. “I can feel your power, but I can also feel the fear. It’s stifling you. You’re weak, and you’ll choke on that weakness if you aren’t careful.” He put one hand flat down on the table and spread his oddly thick fingers. Three-inch claws (purple, of course) sprang from the tips, just where fingernails should be. “We can cure you of that.”

“How?” Thea gestured at him. “Do I become a purple person like you?”

“A
fury
like me. Yes.” He retracted his claws again and smiled at her.

Thea wouldn’t have admitted it, but there was something attractive about the prospect of having claws like that. And wings. “And if I don’t like it, can I change back?”

“No.” Graves took a scone while he let that sink in, then said, “You’ll live in the colony with the rest of us. Room and board are included, along with health care and all your educational needs. If you should marry another fury and have children, they’re raised at the expense of the colony. Your salary depends on what job you’re offered after your transformation. You can still visit your family and come and go as you please on your days off, although we generally discourage our members from alarming ignorant or nonbelieving humans. Any questions?”

Thea’s mind was blank. He made the whole thing sound so regular. Like he really was offering her a job, instead of asking her to become a monster. Finally she said, “I have physical limitations. A bad leg.” She glanced at Aunt Bridget. “From a skiing accident.”

Graves dismissed this with a wave of his scone. “We can help with that, but it won’t interfere with your duties in any case. And won’t it be nice to take the weight off it and fly?”