Page 47 of Claiming Starlight
“‘Bout time Ranalf took his fall. Don’t know why you waited so long,” Dante grumbled.
Micah gave him a baleful stare. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, there’s more. We went looking for information about the dead troll, about your girl and her brother. Eli killed the troll in his shift and used something witchy to clean off the scent.” Dante pulled out a container of powder. He was the only one who could tolerate the strawberry protein shake. When they had it, he added dairy, but they usually didn’t, so he mixed in water and a chunky crushed seed mix that was five years too old for Micah’s taste.
“He did it to trap the girl here. I guess Ranalf expected her to show up, eventually. He would have made his move on her too, but couldn’t because Old Garron and Smith were outside the liquor store all fucking live long day, like usual, and they had eyes on her.”
Lazy slobs with nothing better to do but sit around, Micah had hired Old Garron and Smith to be eyes and ears. They watched everything, so he found a use for it.
Avó’s people grew enough marijuana that together they built a good business with it. Lots of people traded all kinds of things for good, clean herb. Including men like Old Garron and Smith. They could sit around all day, smoke, and watch the street for trouble.
“I tried to go uptown, didn’t get far. Some vampir guards challenged me, like they had an eye out. I must have passed through some wards that triggered them, because I was careful. Armored-up bastards could hardly see out their sun-shield gear, but they were out in force, junior sorcerers with them. They asked me if I had anything to do with a human girl. Good thing they can’t smell shit that isn’t blood or dead.”
“Hang a dead human ten miles out of Hyde and they will come at it in a swarm. Send a man jogging down Main Street at dawn and they are clueless,” Jumper snickered.
“I get that Ranalf was buying sacrifices for that bitch Morghanna. Don’t get where your girl and her brother fit in. They weren’t your average stable slaves to the ice-hearts.” Powder mixed, Dante drank.
Micah watched him swallow without grimacing or making a face. The crazy freak had tastebuds of steel.
“You got to admit, Micah, Sophie is sheltered. Pampered,” Jumper said.
“With her own personal ice heart to watch over her. Yeah. Theywouldshelter a professional virgin, though. Right? Pull her from the herd. Sophie sees that magic shit. She can see through glamor. Agehya isn’t a red-blood, by the way. On top of that, she can tell when magic is active. That’s a fuckin’ gift to anyone, you think? Ranalf wore a necklace from the Morghanna, and Sophie told Avó. Avó broke it with her walking stick, and after that Ranalf could barely stand. You saw that or came later?”
Dante said, “I think we heard it. Sounded like a thunderclap coming from the backyard?”
“That’s it. But Sophie said something, before. The vampir tested her for magic. I think her magic was growing, getting in the way of using her as a virgin sacrifice. Maybe she lost her value? Or maybe she was too dangerous? I can’t figure it out. You know how the vampir do their mind games. Brother and sister used to keep each other in line. Don’t know why they would off-load her and the brother. But I’d think Sophie still had plenty of use for them. We know they only have the magic they are born with, the psycho-wizardry that makes red-bloods forget how ugly the vampir are. The blood-suckers could use someone who saw through glamor.”
“That is some kind of gift—what do you mean Agehya isn’t human? Didn’t she practically grow up in Avó’s house?” Dante asked.
“She did. But if my girl says she has horns and hooves, I know she has horns and hooves,” Micah answered.
“Witches, sorcerers, fae, la magia es mala,” Jumper said.
“Don’t forget the demi-gods,” Dante added.
Micah heard movement, the toilet flushing from his bedroom. He grabbed the last of Avó’s BBQ and water for Sophie. “There will be more crap to handle tomorrow. More stuff to sift through.”
“Yes, Alpha.” Dante washed out his cup in the sink so that the stuff inside didn’t become cement.
Chapter Eleven
Sophie
Micah fed Sophie, giving her most of the leftovers from Avó. He pampered her. Let her sleep, soak in a bath, and have hot showers. Using the soaps from the bag of girl-goodies, Sophie washed, conditioned her hair, shaved her armpits, and moisturized every inch of skin twice over. She loved using all the silky, perfumed soaps and probably used too much, but Micah just laughed at her.
Telling her she missed a spot, he rubbed her down a second time with lotions after every shower, massaging the muscles in her arms, thighs, and stomach. Everything hurt on her body in the aftermath of Avó’s backyard, her neck most of all.
“No risk of infection from a mating mark, Sophie. But yeah, girl. Some of the puncture wounds are deep. It’s messed up.” He flashed a proud grin at her that said he felt different than he sounded as he applied a topical anti-bacterial and numbing agent to the marks.
At first, she didn’t want to turn her head at all, but hour by hour she felt better. As the storm had outside raged, the initial pain lessened. Now the marks on her skin only looked bad, a frightening three shades of purple.
Micah’s generator provided the luxury of an endless amount of hot water. Sophie took a shower when she woke and before she slept. Four days after his fight with Ranalf, she opened the bathroom door, steam blooming behind her, to discover that Micah had laid out clothes for her. Three summer dresses to choose from, slip-on shoes, and actual underwear. The brightly colored bra and panty set fit well, but Sophie preferred plain white. These looked like they belonged to someone else. Everything looked like it belonged to someone else.
The dresses were pretty: pink, purple, and an almost-green light blue, but she wanted her jeans and t-shirts. After the recent storm, she thought the weather might have changed. A jacket, hoodie, or pullover sweater might be nice too.
“Can I pick my own clothes?” she asked.
“That’s why there are three,” he said.
