American library books ยป Other ยป Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame by E.C. Farrell (epub e ink reader .txt) ๐Ÿ“•

Read book online ยซCursed: Out of Ash and Flame by E.C. Farrell (epub e ink reader .txt) ๐Ÿ“•ยป.   Author   -   E.C. Farrell



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A few exits later, I turn off the road into a restaurant that looks promising, not sure Iโ€™m going to be able to keep anything down. Except maybe a shot of tequila.

Unfortunately, I have to drive.

We order from a kid with a lip ring and fake nails Iโ€™d never be able to navigate, then take our electric buzzer to a booth in the far corner by the window. I jog my knee under the table. The seat vibrates, but before I whip out my phone to check for a text, a pickup turns the corner, its pounding base the source of the faint movement.

I pull apart my straw wrapper with much more violence than strictly necessary.

โ€œEverything okay, mama?โ€ Max asks again.

โ€œYouโ€™re asking me that?โ€ I meet his eyes.

Heโ€™s already drained his cup of water and now crunches the left-over ice. โ€œYou seem jumpy.โ€ Max scoots forward. โ€œDid you see a rival bounty hunter following us? Or that woman from the bus?โ€

Massaging a throbbing spot just under my left brow, I shake my head. โ€œNo. Itโ€™s nothing. Itโ€™s just been a long two days. Forty-eight hours. Whatever.โ€

And I just found out my respawns are limited. Inwardly, I shiver.

โ€œYouโ€™re not wrong,โ€ Max says.

Our food arrives. In spite of the nausea, I choke most of the burger down. It turns to paste in my mouth. I donโ€™t even attempt the curly fries. My gaze wanders the restaurant, and my imagination amplifies every glance in my direction, adds a heavy layer of suspicion to every look. When weโ€™re finished, Max refills his water, and stops by the bathroom.

While heโ€™s gone, I type out a text to Iris Smith with shaking fingers to let her know weโ€™re close. I stare at the words. If I delay, I might hear back from Hank before we even make it to Memphis. But if I delay, a rival hunter might catch up to us, and I do not want to deal with another attack.

Heart in my throat, I hit send. Without greeting or any other form of small talk, Iris sends me the address of where weโ€™re supposed to meet and signs off with a warning to โ€œbe prompt.โ€

Back in the car, the burger churns in my gut. Mile after mile passes far more quickly than Iโ€™d like. Without meaning to, I ease a little off the gas, pulse growing louder in my ears as we near Memphis. My damp palms slide on the steering wheel.

Fifty minutes.

Itโ€™s not my business.

Forty-five minutes.

Come on Hank. Text me back.

Thirty minutes. Buildings rise up out of the tree line. Maxโ€™s hands ball into fists in his lap, veins springing out along his arms.

I need to preserve the contract, or Iโ€™ll get kicked out of the guild. Even worse, Iris Smith wonโ€™t help me with this stupid curse.

Twenty minutes. I slow down on the city roads, sticking to the speed limit, sometimes even falling below it, grateful for every red light.

What if heโ€™s innocent?

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes and two more corners. Sweat soaks my lower back as I take the next turn and approach the address Iris sent me. My foot lets up on the gas a little more. My eyes zone in on a woman with platinum blonde hair standing on the street. Iโ€™ve only seen pictures of Iris Smith โ€” moving photos in The Tribunal Times โ€” but sheโ€™s even more stunning in real life.

Five minutes.

I pull to a stop in front of Iris. Breath solid in my chest, I peel my hands off the steering wheel and grab my still silent cell. โ€œWhen we get out of the car, stay behind me, and donโ€™t say a word,โ€ I say, not looking at Max.

He grunts quietly, opening his door when I do, silent and pale. Out on the sidewalk, I put myself between him and Iris.

Face neutral, I loop my arms across my chest, willing my phone to buzz. โ€œMs. Smith?โ€

Iris zeroes her attention entirely on Max, a narrow, hard look. โ€œIs this him?โ€

I fight to keep my shoulders from inching toward my ears. โ€œThis is Max Avila. Delivered as promised. Iโ€™ll hand him over once the funds are transferred to Yaritza.โ€

A ball forms in my throat as Iris slides her cell out of the pocket of her business jacket. โ€œSmall price to pay for a touch of justice,โ€ she says under her breath.

My phone buzzes.

Heart slamming against my sternum, I tilt it in time to see a message from Hank light up the screen. Head swimming, I swipe it open quickly.

Hank: Iris Smith had an older brother named Joel who disappeared about six years ago a few months after starting a relationship with known water spirit, Aline Avila. There is a bounty out on her as well. No oneโ€™s been able to fill it. More details in the article.

A web link pops up after the text, but thereโ€™s no time to read it. The name Joel lights up my brain. Where have I heard that name before? I shake my head, thoughts muddled, racing. They screech to a halt when realization hits me.

The man who taught Max to cook.

โ€œOne moment,โ€ I blurt out.

Irisโ€™ flame blue eyes finally dart to my face. โ€œTell me youโ€™re not about to negotiate terms. Iโ€™ve been waiting for far too long for any more delays.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s not that.โ€ I turn to Max, pulling him a few feet away from Iris by the elbow, and throw up a shield spell with as much subtlety as possible. โ€œBe honest with me. Have you ever used your magic for personal gain? Not saving your life, but for straight up, selfish pleasure.โ€

Max crosses his arms over his chest, gaze coasting back toward Iris. Her lips thin out into a thin, red slash of a line, but she doesnโ€™t move from her spot as he says, โ€œSure. I used it to get out of trouble in school, to make a sell at my job ... and Iโ€™ll admit, Iโ€™ve used it to get out of a speeding ticket or twoโ€”โ€

โ€œYou know

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