Hell's Spells (Ordinary Magic Book 6) Read online

  The possibilities kept me up at night.

  But I was good at my job. Being a police officer in Ordinary meant I had to follow all the laws and rules of the mortal world, and also all the laws and rules of the supernatural world. I was not above the law. No one was above the law.

  But with or without a soul, with or without a demon-touched soul, I knew how to do my job.

  “It was on the mantel when I was there.” Firm. No doubt.

  He didn’t so much as twitch, but something about him changed. If I were a werewolf, I probably would have known exactly what that meant. But I was just human.

  Well, mostly.

  “It’s been on the book shelf for the last six months.”

  Time ticktickticked while I went over my memory again. “Behind the desk?”

  “Behind the desk.”

  Nope. I could see it there, clearly. On the mantel. “You sure someone didn’t move it recently?”

  “We’re sure.”

  “Well, someone must have moved it. It was on the mantel when I looked through the window.”

  “The window on the door?”

  “Yes. I didn’t take your carving. Why would I take something so valuable to the pack?”

  His eyes widened a fraction. “I wasn’t accusing you of taking it. You’re…you’re looking out for us, Delaney.” He said that last bit like he was checking to make sure I knew it.

  Right there—that was the thing. People had been acting differently around me ever since the whole demon-soul-return. I saw the way my sisters looked at me.

  I saw the way the other people on the force: Hatter and Shoe looked at me.

  I saw how Death, who preferred to be called Than while vacationing, looked at me.

  No, scratch that. Than looked at me the same way he’d always looked at me. Sort of amused and slightly disinterested.

  But I’d seen how quickly the other vacationing gods had spotted me on the street, in a shop, and had made it a point to stop and talk. To check in on me.

  And I’d seen how Ryder looked at me too.

  All of them (except Than) thought something might be wrong with me, or might go wrong with me and they needed to check in to be sure.

  And…okay, I did have the weird little memory issues every now and again.

  But whatever side effects I had from the soul thing, it wasn’t like I was broken.

  “I know I’m looking out for you,” I told him. “I’m looking out for everyone. That’s number one on my job. You sure you don’t want to volunteer for reserve officer? You have the right attitude.”

  He flashed me a sly smile. “Nope. Fighting fires and dating a vampire brings more than enough excitement into my life.”

  “How is Ben?” I asked. “Really?” Ben was tough and strong, but he’d been tortured not so long ago, and it had taken him time—a lot of time—to heal.

  Vampires could take massive damage, but even the undead had their limits.

  “Good.” His smile was a little softer, as were his eyes. “Really good. He’s back at work now. Light duty. Has been for a couple weeks.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “Complains constantly. We don’t see eye to eye on what actually constitutes light duty. But the make-up sex is great.”

  I laughed, and he winked, then lifted his head like he’d just caught a scent.

  “Something?” I asked.

  “Maybe?” He turned his head north, then south, his nostrils flared. “I thought I smelled strawberries and fire. It’s gone now. Probably just someone’s perfume or a vape.” He waved one hand low, dismissing his reaction and, I knew, letting the other wolves know everything was okay.

  “Have you filed a police report on the Heartwood?”

  “Yeah. Fawn went to handle it. Mantel, huh?”

  “It’s where I saw it. Maybe someone moved it, took off when I got there, then circled back?”

  He shook his head. “Maybe. We didn’t smell anyone who shouldn’t be there.”

  So he’d known I’d been there.

  A car rolled by slowly, the driver rubbernecking. I gave a reassuring wave, and he engaged the gas pedal and went on his way.

  “So how long are you going to be out here?” It was early, and traffic was light, but the road would soon get busy with the valley-to-coast and casino-to-coast traffic.

  “Just an hour or so. We’re only stopping people who are pulling over for gas or food.”

  “You’re a traffic hazard.”

  “Noted,” he said.

  “I’ll be back by in an hour. What am I going to find here?”

  “I have no idea,” he said gamely. “We won’t be here by then.”

  I flipped a thumbs up. “We’ll follow up on the theft.”

  “Oh, before you go,” he said. “I heard Bertie was looking for some volunteers for Saturday’s event.”

  “Really?” I feigned innocently, “Isn’t that interesting? I had no idea. Too bad I’m out of town.”

  He didn’t have to be a werewolf to catch that lie.

  It was Jean’s turn to volunteer, anyway. My youngest sister had once again, wriggled out of helping with the last festival, the Slammin’ Salmon Serenade, leaving our newest reserve deputy, Kelby, who was a giant, to deal with it all. Kelby had taken it in stride. She’d even stood in as the queen of the parade, earning buckets of respect from me.

  And from Bertie.

  We were all secretly hoping Kelby would volunteer for all of Bertie’s community events since she’d handled the first one so well.

  “Have you posted this at the casino?” I held up the flyer.

  “Not yet.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  I got back in the car and flipped off the lights. True to their word, the Wolfes were only pulling over cars stopping for gas, food, or general curiosity.

  The Wolfe pack were solid, down-to-earth kind of people. Easy to make conversation, easy to laugh.

  I mean, they were scary as hell when they were pissed off or wolfed-out, but when they walked the moonless days with the rest of us, they were easy to mistake as human.

  Which was why I wasn’t worried about what would happen if they found the thief before we did. I knew they’d follow the law and bring the person—supernatural or otherwise—to the station.

  Everything would be handled according to the rules.

  A car pulled off to the side and rolled down the windows. A voice shouted good naturedly at Jame, and he laughed, jogging to close the distance.

  I recognized that voice. It was Ben.

  I left them to it and eased into traffic headed east. It was twenty-two miles to the casino and I wanted to get there before the early crowds arrived.

  The dragon pig turned around and growled at the back seat.

  “We don’t eat werewolves.” I glanced in my rearview mirror. “And we aren’t stopping for corn dogs.”

  It growled again, and this time smoke rolled up from its nostrils.

  I glanced in my rearview mirror again. “What are you so—?”

  A unicorn popped up in the back seat. She shook her shiny mane, threw her hooves in the air, and shouted: “Ta-da!”

  “Holy shit!”

  I didn’t slam on the brakes because I wasn’t about to start a mile-long fender bender, but I did pull off to the side of the road, narrowly missing a mailbox and blocking a driveway.

  Luckily the cars behind me were slow-rolling and rambled past, no collisions imminent.

  “Really, Delaney,” the unicorn scolded. “Your driving skills need work. You almost ran us into that,” she stretched her neck so she could see out the front window, “wooden fish? Is that a mailbox?” She blew air through her lips, making a rude sound. “Tacky. Give it a little gas. Trust me, the homeowners will thank you for it.”

  I inhaled, exhaled, considered my gun, but really, a gun wasn’t going to do much damage to a demon. Even a demon the size and shape of a Shetland pony. A pin
k Shetland pony. With a stupid sparkly diamond horn in the middle of her stupid glittery forehead.

  “Xtelle, why are you in my Jeep?”

  “Because you have no taste in cars? Would it kill you to invest in a nice Mercedes? There aren’t even seat warmers.” She wiggled her butt back and forth, then sighed. “So pedestrian. I expect better of you. For me.”

  “Get out of my Jeep.”

  “Wonderful idea! A unicorn strutting across the street. With all this slow traffic, too. Imagine the news it would make. I bet reporters would come here, so close to Ordinary, just to see if the pink unicorn is real. Wouldn’t that be so much fun, Delaney? All those eyes looking right here into your tiny corner of the world where gods are trying to vacation without being disturbed. And my goodness, just think of how the supernaturals in town would enjoy the scrutiny!”

  Her eyes got big. “I love this idea. Last time we talked you were so self-righteous and for-the-good-of-my-people. But look at you now. A little streak of evil.” She wiped one shiny hoof under her eye. “I’m so proud.”

  “Xtelle,” I warned.

  “Busy! The world must see my brilliance! Call the press!” She grabbed the handle—not something a hooved creature should be able to do, but she was a demon. A very annoying one. If she could take the shape of a unicorn, she could make her hoof bendy enough to open doors.

  Luckily, I controlled the locks in the car.

  “You aren’t going out there to blow some kind of supernatural cover, and we both know it,” I said. “You also aren’t really a unicorn. If there’s a reason you’re here, spit it out. Because in exactly ten seconds, I’m going to tell my dragon to drop you into the nearest volcano.”

  “Mount St. Helens?”

  “The nearest volcano on the ocean floor.”

  The dragon rumbled its approval. My sister Jean and I had found the dragon in a cave on the edge of the ocean. I figured it wouldn’t mind a little deep sea homicide.

  The waterproofness of the demon, however, had yet to be proved.

  “You are no fun. At all. Not even a little. I don’t like it.” She stuck her nose in the air and crossed her little pony arms across her little pony chest.

  “Nine,” I said, “eight. Seven seconds until splashdown, Xtelle.”

  She shook her head, just the tiniest of motions, like she was trying not to give in. Then she made a frustrated sound. “Fine. I want back into Ordinary.”

  I heard her, really I did. But it was just so preposterous, such a ridiculous request, I responded the only way I could. I laughed.

  “No,” I said. “Absolutely not.”

  “But…why?”

  I held up a finger. “You lied about being a demon. You didn’t sign the contract all demons are required to sign if they want to enter into Ordinary.” Another finger. “You messed with my sister.” And one more finger, though this one a little less willingly. “You messed with her boyfriend.”

  “My son? My demon son, Bathin? That boyfriend? You won’t let me spend well deserved—very well deserved—vacation time in your crappy little beach town because I was curious about my son’s love life?”

  “You made a weapon he thought he had to use on himself.”

  “Pffft. It was just a little pair of scissors.”

  “That he thought would kill him.”

  “But they didn’t, did they? I get no credit for being considerate about my betrayals.”

  The dragon pig growled again, and this time it sounded hungry.

  “I don’t know why you stay with her,” she said to the dragon pig. “You can see she’s going to turn on you, too, someday. Humans are so predictable.”

  The dragon pig roared, a sound entirely too large for an animal that small, and a space this enclosed. My ears rang, but it made me smile.

  “Eeep!” Xtelle scooted behind my seat. “Delaney? Delaney?” She fluttered her impossibly long eyelashes at me in the mirror. “You know you and I have so much in common.”

  I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t encourage her. “Name one thing you and I have in common.”

  “We both want to live in Ordinary, we enjoy ruling over our family, we agree that butt warmers are a necessity.”

  “I don’t want butt warmers.”

  She tipped her head so that her mouth curved up in a weird little smile. “Delaney, I am a demon. I can see mortal desires. You want butt warmers.”

  “I don’t.” But I kind of did. Especially since she kept talking about it.

  “But you do. You want a warm butt. Ooooo. So warm. Mmmm. Warm butt.”

  “Six, five, four, threetwoone,” I said. “Out. And don’t go tramping around as a unicorn where mortals can see you.”

  “You’re not the boss of me. Not here outside Ordinary.”

  “All right. Forget about the volcano. I’ll just tell my dragon to eat you.”

  “I…you wouldn’t. That thing…” Her eyes were wild, jotting from me to the dragon pig.

  The dragon pig seemed happy with her state of panic. It growled constantly, a low rumbling purr.

  “In one bite, Xtelle,” I said. “Horn to hoof.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip and the top one wobbled for a moment. “You’re mean.”

  I was going to agree, but she disappeared in a puff of pink smoke.

  “Huh,” I said. “Strawberries and fire. Jame was right.” I twisted to look in the back seat. I wouldn’t put it past her to turn into a floor mat or pebble or a fly.

  I had no idea how Myra had put up with her for the short time we’d actually believed she was a unicorn and not a demon in disguise.

  I readjusted the mirror, then glanced over at the dragon pig. “Is she in the car?”

  The piglet tippy-toed a little circle, then sat with its back against the seat, facing forward. It made a squeaky sound.

  “I take it that’s a no?”

  The dragon oinked.

  “Good dragon.” I dug in my purse and pulled out a broken screwdriver. I dangled it in front of its little nose, and the dragon pig slurped it down like a tasty noodle. “We’ve had enough of demons for one day, haven’t we?”

  It grumbled a little and I decided we were on the same page. With one last pat on the dragon pig’s head, I rolled away from the ugly fish mailbox and headed toward the casino.

  Chapter Three

  The casino was nestled in a valley surrounded by hills covered in evergreen trees. The parking lot was dotted with deciduous trees and bushes that created shady spots in the summer and flashes of colorful leaves in the fall.

  I maneuvered the Jeep to the far side of the parking lot and gave the dragon pig one more pat. “You’re going to stay right here while I pick up the mail.”

  The dragon pig oinked.

  “You’re not going to eat any of the vehicles, signs, or poles, right?”

  Another enthusiastic oink.

  “That means no nibbling on my Jeep. No buttons, no visors, no mirrors will be missing when I return.”

  The oink was a little quieter.

  “No floor mats or soft stuff either.”

  The dragon pig wrinkled its nose, and a puff of smoke came out of its nostrils. It flopped dejectedly down on the seat, soft ears flipping to the side. It grunted.

  I grinned. “Good. I’ll get you some nice scrap metal once we get back to town. Maybe even a rusty old golf cart.”

  It sighed, though at the mention of the golf cart it perked up a little.

  I rolled down the windows, even though the dragon pig liked hot cars—the hotter the better—locked the Jeep, and strolled across the parking lot.

  It was a mild day for mid-October, almost warm with only a few clouds streaking the blue sky. A light wind pushed and tugged just enough to stir the remaining leaves and send a random piece of dry grass scooting across the pavement.

  The group of four lingering by the door were gray haired and laughing as one of the women went on about a breakfast incident involving beans and a grandchild.

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sp; I smiled and excused my way past them and through the sliding doors.

  Music—soft and folksy—lingered just behind the murmur of voices and the sweet chimes of machines. Someone cheered, an applause followed, and I threaded my way to the cashier waiting behind the counter.

  “Hey there, Delaney. Mail run?” Walt was human, a heavy guy with a really impressive set of curly sideburns and a pompadour hairstyle. Whether on purpose or not (I’d never gotten a straight answer out of him), he looked like an Elvis impersonator who just happened to be slumming in Oregon.

  The mail was delivered to the casino in two ways: either a large envelope addressed and postage paid with smaller, simply addressed letters inside, or individual letters, which to the sight of humans were addressed and stamped correctly.

  “Every Thursday,” I said, “Thanks, Walt.” I handed over the key. “How are things?”

  He walked back through the open door to the safe where mail for the deities was deposited. It used to be delivered to a little gas station near here, but when the big casino came in a couple decades ago, it seemed like a better drop point.

  “Still above ground,” he said, “so I ain’t complaining.” He disappeared from sight then came back, tapping a single envelope in his hand. He set it on the counter, the key on top. It looked like a regular letter to humans, but to me there was no stamp, no return address, and the only deliverable address was a single name: Bathin and the town: Ordinary, Oregon.

  Interesting. I’d never picked up an envelope for Bathin before.

  “Emily still excited about college?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “She can’t wait. I think she just likes the idea of having her own car and a bedroom she doesn’t have to share with her sister.”

  “Well, that might be what she’s telling you, but there are plenty of pretty boys in college. Or pretty girls.”

  He pressed his palms against his ears. “La-la-la. I refuse to get involved in my daughter’s love life.”

  I laughed and picked up the envelope, pocketing the key.

  He dropped his hands. “She has a phone. Our number’s on speed dial. She’s gonna do great.”

  “Yeah, she is,” I said. “If you need anything, if she needs anything, I know some good people in Eugene. I can call in a drive-by or wellness check.”