Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame by E.C. Farrell (epub e ink reader .txt) 📕

and pull out my pack of cigarettes. “You didn’t bring any tequila did you, Hank?”

Hank laughs. “Already out, huh?”

“Hey.” I light up and then point at his face. “I was broken for about twenty-four hours. I needed something a little stronger than an OTC. Especially when a stubborn water spirit wouldn’t shoot me so I could reset.”

Max crosses his arms. “Oh yes, I’m a horrible person for not wanting to murder you.”

Eyes darkening as his brows lower, Hank slides his chair in, and drops his voice almost to a whisper. “That’s a good thing considering what I told you a few days ago.”

Nauseous, I rub an aching spot on my forehead with a knuckle as Max’s smile drops. “What’s he talking about, Fee?”

I take a deep drag, refusing to meet Max’s eyes when I answer. “You were right. My number of deaths is limited.”

Shadows bleed across Max’s face as the muscles harden. “And you didn’t think that piece of information would be good for me to know?”

“What does it have to do with you?” I snap.

Max rocks back like I punched him. “What does it have to do with me? Oh nothing. It’s not like I care about you or anything.”

Shock hits me so hard it obliterates my response. I gap at him, absolutely positive I look a bit like a fish gasping for water. After all he’s done for me, all of his kindness, I should know this statement is true. Hearing it out loud though? It’s hard to process. So, I say the first stupid thing that comes to mind.

“Seriously, Hank, I really could use some tequila right now.”

Brynn chooses that moment to march back up to the table. “It took some convincing, but Aline agreed to meet. Though she does have some conditions.”

I gather my scattered thoughts back together, back to the task at hand, and glance at Max. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, the water spirit bounces his knee, his expression suddenly a mask of nonchalance, but the tension on his jaw giving him away.

He pulls in a slow breath. “Anything to cover her butt.” Max clears his throat. “Hit us with the fine print.”

“We’re to head to Shreveport,” Brynn says.

I resist a triumphant smirk.

“When we’re nearby,” she continues, “Aline will designate a specific meeting place where she’s going to set up a neutralizing spell so none of us will be able to use magic against her.”

My skin crawls. We conduct our guild meetings inside a neutralizing spell, and the strange stillness it creates leaves me restless, nervous, distracted. Her request makes sense, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Aline must be an incredibly strong magic user to cast it. No wonder none of the hunters have been able to find her.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Brynn says. “But she won’t agree to meet otherwise.”

Eyeing the young woman with the headphones again — who still doesn’t appear to have any interest in us — I wave my own smoke out of my face, then pull out my cell. “It’s better than her refusing to see us at all. Now, I’m going to find us the nearest rental place. Unless you happen to drive something bigger than Hank’s toy car.”

Brynn snickers, elbows Hank, then stands. “We can all fit into mine. It’s not far from the motel.”

“Great.” I click my tongue. “The sooner we get there the better.”

Brynn’s vehicle is as big as Hank’s is tiny. The white fifteen passenger van looks more like it belongs in front of a youth center rather than a backwater motel close to the swamp. Unless, of course, said youth were on some kind of altruistic mission to pick up litter on the side of the highway.

Stifling a laugh, I climb into the far back, Max right behind me as Hank takes the front passenger seat. The smell of tea tree permeates the interior and triggers memories of the essential oil concoctions our maid used to clean the counters.

Brynn revs the engine, and we’re off.

Fastening my seatbelt and dropping my backpack onto the floor, I draw in a deep breath, and let out a very slow sigh. “I love this smell way more than is socially acceptable.”

Max wrinkles his nose with a slight laugh. “It’s better than bleach, not to mention far less terrifying.”

I cackle. “Though equally as effective. At least according to my family’s maid. Kelith was the only one in the house I could ever ride with.”

“A little nicer than the cook was, huh?” Max asks. “Never chased you with a cast iron skillet?”

I twist around to look at him, the back of my head against the window. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the road. Though the girl with the headphones didn’t appear to follow us, if she is using a charm, she might be able to disguise her movements. Freaking witches.

“Thank the Fates, no,” I say, still half looking out the window and half looking at Max. “She swore like a troll, could out drink our entire security team, and didn’t care at all whether anyone approved of her or not. Kelith also got me in contact with Hank when I left the fae realm.”

“Sounds like she took good care of you.”

“Better than my own parents.” Swallowing, I zero in on the road behind us, forcing myself to say what needs to be said no matter how fast my heart races. “Two things. One, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’d found out I had a limit. And two... that was some kiss back there.”

At first, Max doesn’t respond. The thrum of my pulse fills my ears as warmth flashes across my skin. Anxious, I fiddle with my seatbelt, every thought bloated with suspicion rising up to meet me. He did it out of pity, possibly to stop me from yelling at him, not out of affection. And it’s better that way. More professional.

“It was for good karma,” Max says finally. “Which either did, or didn’t, work depending on