Dark Kings (Feathers and Fate #1) - Sadie Moss Page 0,66

this angel. I like her.

It goes against every impulse inside me, an age-old distaste for all of her kind, but I like her.

Beckett and Ford are twisting themselves into knots as they struggle with their reactions to her, but I’m not in the habit of second-guessing everything I feel. Cooking is an art that relies on intuition and a deep connection to one’s cravings and desires, and I can’t deny that I desire the sweet, enigmatic creature sitting beside me.

She tasted divine when I kissed her earlier. Her lips were the kind of wine I could drink every single day, the kind I could gorge on and never be satisfied.

“Do you think this… this death witch will be able to help us?” she asks, dragging her gaze away from the road as Beck weaves aggressively through New York traffic.

“She should.” Nix shrugs. “Death magic is strong stuff.” He nudges the back of Beck’s seat. “You’ve met with this witch before?”

“Yes. I needed a contract signed by a dead man.”

Beck doesn’t elaborate on his statement, and Trinity shoots me a vaguely horrified look. I just pat her knee, letting a small smile curve my lips.

I know my brother, and as greedy as he is, he’s also surprisingly honorable. It’s less because of any inherent goodness in him and more a way for him to keep things interesting for himself, I think—much like a professional golfer might give himself a handicap when playing against a less skilled opponent. My brother wants to have to work to win, but that gets harder and harder the longer he plays the game. So he has to keep finding new ways to challenge himself.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the curb in front of a run-down looking Chinese food place. Ugly neon lights flash in the windows, and heavy curtains hide the inside from view. When we step out of the car, the heavy stench of burnt cooking oil makes me gag. It’s a good thing I know this is just a front for a witch, or I’d be tempted to call the health department and report this place.

Beck pushes open the door, and a bell above his head gives a little chime. We all follow him inside, Nix bitching under his breath as he helps Ford carry the body into the shop, the corpse’s arms draped over their shoulders.

“Yes? What is it? What do you need?”

The questions come one after another in such a quick succession that they sound like a single question instead of several. A white-haired woman walks out from the back as we enter a small antechamber that appears to be some sort of waiting area.

She obviously never lets non-supernaturals even get past the door, because there’s been no attempt made to make the inside look like a restaurant. Stuffed animal heads line the walls, creatures no one would see in any human hunter’s lodge, and red velvet seems to be everywhere—adorning the walls, the furniture, the light fixtures.

“We have a dead body that we need something from. We need to reverse a spell this guy performed. He opened a portal, and we want to close it,” Beckett tells her, getting right down to the heart of the matter like the businessman he is. “Can you help us?”

“Yes, yes, I can help. That’s just the kind of thing I do. Morrigan can do this, you came to the right place.”

The woman is a little taller than Trinity, and a lot bonier. Her cheekbones stand out starkly on her pale face, and her stark black dress makes her pallid features seem even more washed out.

Her head bobs from side to side as she steps forward, dragging a finger down the side of the dead demon’s face. The band securing the mask to his head snaps under her sharp fingernail, tumbling to the floor and revealing the man’s features. Foam still clings to the corners of his mouth, and his lips are a dark color, almost black.

“Ah. Violent death.” She clucks her tongue. “Painful.”

Trinity shivers beside me, and I rest my hand at the small of her back. She leans toward me; I can’t tell if the movement is conscious or unconscious, but I’m surprised by the protective impulse that rises inside me in response.

“Yeah. It was.” Ford glares at the witch. “Very painful. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“More difficult to revive a corpse that died violently.” Morrigan clicks her tongue again, an insect-like noise. “Takes more time, more effort. But