Witches for Hire (Odd Jobs #1)(56)
Though a pleasant quiet moment instead of their awkward silences, Jeremy frowned at his cup. “Why do you keep putting me in these situations? I want nothing to do with Desmond, the Council, and definitely not the Great Mother. As soon as you signed my paychecks, I ended up nose-deep in all three. I don’t want to drown in this mess while you play hero.”
Clive blinked. Put that way, he did come off as reckless. “Yes, we’ve faced bigger challenges than most new businesses are likely to, but why else apply for these jobs if you don’t want excitement?”
Jeremy crossed his arms. “Obviously I don’t want a dull nine-to-five, but I hate dying more. A smart man like you could figure out a way to work this case without bringing the three biggest pains in the asses into it.”
“I’m always open to suggestions.” There was no response, so Clive set his cup on the counter. Cleaning them magically or by hand added on to driving was out of the question. “When you finish, I’ll drive you home.”
“All right.” Jeremy waved at the door to the lobby. “After you, Sir Knight.”
Chapter 16
TEETH SKITTERED across the tile floor with some of the captured werewolf’s gums still attached to them when his pack leader, Mark, punched him. He must not be happy flying a red-eye from Delaware because his wolves thought it was bright to answer shady Craigslist ads, Jeremy thought. With blood and pulp against bright white, the teeth reminded him of mini snow cones with cherry syrup. Jeremy tapped on the glass. “I need his mouth somewhat intact,” he said, knowing that Dennis, who was standing by watching the beating, was the only one there powerful enough to hear past the specially designed two-way mirror. Elders hadn’t been on the menu that night, so Jeremy had to eat a few wrinkled brown leaves from a plant Zach grew that suppressed the scent of magic from sensitive noses. He was supposed to eat one every four hours, but he took two just in case. The sweat under his collar and urge to giggle inappropriately probably weren’t good signs.
Ignoring his determination to appear businesslike and not drugged to the gills, Jeremy smiled as the traitor’s head slammed into a wall. What if his screen name was Furry_Minion or Bad_Puppy? A snort escaped his throat, so Jeremy coughed into his hand as if he had choked on spit. No matter how the day ended, he wished good luck to Rudy’s pack for even thinking about claiming the moral high ground with him in the future. The underground bunker was practically an NSA black site for misbehaving werewolves. He whispered in Simone’s ear, “I’m not all that eager to endanger my life for answers. It was my idea, but I’m open to suggestions.”
Simone crossed her arms. “I think it’s the perfect plan.” She pointed at the door leading to the werewolf crawling away pathetically from his pack leader’s leg, now lifted to stomp on his back. “Please proceed.”
She’s returned to wishing grave harm on me, I see. Jeremy turned to his coworkers. “Any thoughts in a more helpful vein?”
“I can break his neck in several places if he attacks you,” Edarra said.
Jeremy’s eyes closed in annoyance. “I don’t think hazard pay for this job is worth it.” He looked at Clive, waiting for him to step in and offer up an alternative spell, but the knight’s eyes were fixated on the violence in front of him, emotionless, as if he were somewhere else. And this one’s picked the perfect time to go loopy.
Simone patted him on the back. “Just so you know, I’m mentally going through our contracts for a replacement consultant if you fuck up.”
Unbuttoning his cuffs, Jeremy looked at Rudy, whose eyes glowed yellow as he watched just as silently as Clive. “Tell Elder Dennis I’m ready.”
In the other room, Mark body-slammed the traitor into his chair that he had started out chained to. The traitor lay prone over the broken pieces. Rudy shuddered as if he felt a breeze down his back, and then his eyes flashed back to normal brown. “Dennis says he’s ready for you.” He opened the door.
Jeremy tentatively walked inside. Without the partial wall barrier blocking the view of the whole room, blood streaked across the floor so much that he couldn’t avoid stepping in it. For the sake of showing no weakness, he kept his gaze on the werewolf whose eyes, once closed in agony, opened to watch Jeremy. “Before I begin, I have a request to make of Delaware’s pack leader.”
Mark didn’t take his eyes off the traitor. “What?”
“If he in any way harms me, by accident or with purpose, his life is mine.”
“I will not defend your life in the attempt.”
“I won’t need it.”
Mark stepped out of the way. “The traitor’s life is yours if he causes you harm.”
Jeremy took a deep breath. I have to be true in my intention because a werewolf will hear if I don’t mean it. So he thought back to when he was justice to mages who thought London’s poor were easy targets. Jeremy had no idea what expression he wore, but the traitor flinched away from him.
To save face, the traitor jutted out his jaw and glared at Jeremy. “You don’t scare me, witch.”
“Yes, I do.” His voice was saturated with his true accent, and though the last person he hurt was a cowardly pervert, that darkness was easy to call forth. Jeremy knelt down, his initial fear gone with the remembrance of what he was capable of. He placed his hands on either side of the werewolf’s face. “You’re going to halfway transform, and then I’m going to stick my hands down your throat.” Jeremy stroked his finger along the bridge of the traitor’s nose. “If one of those sharp teeth so much as scratches me….” He leaned in so close that their lips almost touched. “I’ll seal your mouth open and fly hundreds of silver wasps inside of you. They’ll tear you apart from the inside as you scream. When I grow bored, I’ll heal you and start again.”