Jason rushed from the wedding rehearsal feeling like he had a bad case of poison ivy. His skin itched and burned, and the throb at the base of his skull had grown more intense.Boom, boom, boom.The pain demanded attention.
He reached into his glove compartment and fished out a bottle of pain relievers, popping the cap and dry-swallowing three. The pounding took on a rhythm, morphing into a voice, Nickelova’s voice.Come to me.Come to me. Her command echoed in his head until it became a stabbing sensation. He rubbed where it hurt the most. Jason had a nagging suspicion the discomfort was only going to get worse unless he found a way to break the curse. He needed help—magic powerful enough to undo what Nickelova had done to him. And he had an idea where he might find it.
Exiting the highway deep within Carlton City, Jason drove down the alley behind the Mill Wheel Night Club, wishing he’d had the forethought to bring a gun loaded with wooden bullets. A couple making out behind a dumpster turned their heads long enough for the two puncture wounds on the woman’s neck to gurgle blood that ran in lazy rivulets into her cleavage. Fuck, he hated vamps. If he wasn’t desperate for a solution to his Nickelova problem, he’d never risk this part of town.
He parked under a rectangular tin sign that readRyker’s Lost Things. The logo was a chipped etching of a boy with a handkerchief on a stick over his shoulder, an unsettling smile on his freckled face. The sign squeaked on rusty hinges as it swung in the evening breeze.
Jason had loaned Ryker his start-up capital for this place, despite shady references and a business plan that was one step up from a cocktail napkin. Only Ryker proved persuasive, so persuasive that Jason caught on quickly that his aptitude for business wasn’t quite human. And based on the return he’d seen come through his e-mail, the guy had serious connections inside the world of the occult.
The bell over the door chimed and the smell of dust hit Jason’s nostrils. The inside of Lost Things looked like an episode of hoarders. Stacks of books, artifacts, and shiny objects crowded the doorway. He had to turn sideways to slip between two large crates of Fabergé eggs, pausing halfway through when a low hum met his superhuman ears. It emanated from one large black egg that gleamed in the dim light, its ebony luster drawing him in. He leaned over for a better look.
“Don’t touch that,” came a smooth voice from deep within the shop. “Unless you’d like to spend the night locked inside that shiny trinket. I won’t be able to get you out until sunrise. I need to move them into the back room. Haven’t had a chance.”
Jason stepped back from the eggs and made his way deeper into the dimly lit store. A squat woman waddled up to the counter with a handful of dried lizards. Her T-shirt read,Witches do it in circles.
“Do you sell these in bulk?” she asked the dark man behind the counter.
“Five for twenty.”
The woman plopped down a bill. She waddled out the door, giving a wide clearance to the crate of eggs.
“Ryker Vandoren, how’s my favorite client?” Jason spread his arms wide.
The man glanced up from his work and promptly disappeared, becoming a twist of smoke in a blink of an eye. The dark fog rolled over the counter and through the hodgepodge of collectibles. Ryker rematerialized near Jason, smelling of sulfur and dried things. Black eyes burned above a smile that boasted two overdeveloped cuspids. His olive-toned skin seemed to give off its own light in the haze of dust around them.
“Favorite client?” he asked. “Never try to charm an incubus, Mr. Flynn.” His voice was pure silk and flowed from full lips like a whispered seduction. “It makes you seem insincere.”
“Call me Jason. I assure you, I’d never attempt to charm you, Ryker. It would be like trying to sell an air conditioner to a polar bear.”
Ryker blinked upturned eyes, a ghost of a smile turning the corners of his mouth. He narrowed his gaze on Jason. “What brings you here today? I’ve honored our agreement. Are you unhappy with your rate of return?”
“On the contrary, I’m impressed with your success. Who knew an antique shop for magical artifacts would do so well in the vampire district?” He rubbed the ache at the back of his head. “No, I’m not here about my investment.”
The demon gestured toward the store. “Then what can I do for you?”
“I have a problem, and I think you might have a solution. But I need you to promise to keep this confidential.”
Ryker’s ears bent forward slightly. “We are alone. Your secrets are safe with me. I assure you, I have many.”
“Well, yes. I assumed. That’s why I came to you. I need your help. I have a problem with a dragon fae.”
With a step back and a hiss, Ryker shook his finger. “Dragon fae are not my area of expertise. If you’ve offended the female, I suggest you apologize.”
“How did you know I was talking about a female?”
“Because the only dragon fae to be in this city in a century is female.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“No. But I’ve heard.”
“I had a relationship with her.”
“A physical relationship?”
Jason lowered his chin and gave an almost imperceptible nod. “And now she’s haunting me.”
The incubus’s long tapered fingers lifted to his mouth to conceal a chuckle. “EvenIwouldn’t risk an affair with a dragon.” Ryker’s barbed tail twitched behind him.
