Witching Time (The Wild Hunt #14) - Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,7
by an old book when I went up there last night to confront it and tell it to leave.”
She sounded spooked and I didn’t blame her. Most likely, she had a poltergeist, and to actually be able to throw objects meant it was a powerful sucker.
“I’m busy tonight, but I can drop by tomorrow. How about two-thirty?” I pulled out my calendar again.
“That sounds good. I’ll text you my address.” She hung up before I could ask her how long it had been going on, but that I could find out when I got there. I received her text and entered it into her contact data, then finished making the sauce and fixing the eggplant to go into the oven. Finally, I sliced the berries for the shortcakes, popping one of them into my mouth, and then I joined Raj in the living room.
He glanced up at me as I sat down beside him and draped my arm around his shoulders.
“Raven not mad at Raj anymore?”
I squeezed him, kissing him on the forehead. “Raven not mad at Raj. What’s Raj watching?”
“Nightmare on Zombie Island.”
Frowning, I leaned forward, watching for a few moments. It seemed like a relatively tame show and when I brought it up on my phone to check I saw that it was rated PG-13. Violence but no explicit gore, some kissing. In other words, it wouldn’t give him nightmares.
I pulled out my phone again, flipping over to my email. As I was going through, deleting spam and junk mail, a text came through from my father.
i’ll be there in half an hour.
As I tucked the phone away, I felt a stir of excitement. It had been a decade or so since I had seen him. I wondered how much I had changed, if any, since we had last seen one another. And how much had he changed? I didn’t expect a difference in looks—the Ante-Fae lived longer than the Fae did—but people could change on the inside far more dramatically than their looks reflected, and I spent the next thirty minutes trying not to think about my father and what he might be like now.
“Remember, be polite, Raj. Be good.” One good thing about Raj being a gargoyle and Kipa being a god—my father’s curse couldn’t touch either one of them. Some magic could affect them, but a natural curse like this? Not so much. Not even a Medusa could freeze Kipa or Raj to stone.
I smoothed my skirt and grabbed a quick look in the foyer mirror. My hair was neat, and my clothes were tidy and clean. I sucked in a deep breath and opened the door, and there he was, just like I remembered him.
Curikan stood about five-nine, with shaggy hair that barely skimmed his shoulders. It was the color of night, darker than my own brunette and without the natural purple streaks. His eyes were leaf-green, and he was lean and muscled.
“My little Raven,” he whispered, opening his arms.
I flew into them, slamming my arms around his waist. “Da!” For some reason that I didn’t understand, and hadn’t expected, I started to cry. Thank gods for waterproof mascara.
“Raven, honey, what’s wrong? Are you all right?” He brushed my forehead with his lips—a very different kiss from the ones that Kipa gave me.
“Nothing,” I said, wiping my nose. “I just… It’s been so long. And so much has happened.” For a while, I made regular visits back home when I first moved to the West Coast, but the past ten years had flown by without more than talking on the phone or emailing.
My arm around his waist, I escorted him inside, hoping he would like my house. He’d been the one who paid for it, after all. “Here we are. Welcome to my home.”
Curikan looked around, nodding his approval. “Very nice. You’ve done well for yourself. I’m so proud of you, especially after you lost Ulstair last year.” He paused, then added, “So, you have a new beau?”
I had told him about Kipa, but not in so many details. I had conveniently left out that Kipa was Lord of the Wolves…a god. For some reason, that seemed like news that was better delivered in person rather than over the phone.
“Um, yes. Kipa. But I didn’t tell you something about him that you should probably know before you meet him—” I paused as the door opened behind us. Whirling around, I saw that Kipa was there. I glanced at my father’s face.