knowledge was more hush-hush. And not correct.
“Not exactly. The Agency seeks to put their hands to weapons, ephemera, and other objects that might fall into human hands and lead them to believe in you paranormals.”
“You paranormals,” she said mockingly and gestured with a flutter of her hand that made Tor suddenly nervous. A bloke never knew what witches could do with but a flick of finger or sweep of hand. “You’re human, right?”
“That I am.”
And she was a witch. A dark witch. Mostly? He had no idea what that meant. And...he wasn’t interested in finding out.
“Like I’ve said, I don’t do protection. And I’ve handed off the Agency reins to someone located in the States. But of most importance is, I really do not want to get involved with anyone from the Jones family. I respect your father and his brother. They are a pair of badass dark witches most would do well to walk a wide circle around.” He’d come this close to stepping into that dangerous circle a few years back. And he wasn’t a stupid man. Lesson learned. “If you need someone—”
“But your Agency protects paranormal objects, yes?”
“It does. The Agency always will, but I’m not doing that sort of—”
“Then you can help me.” She bent over and reached into a big flowered purse on the floor and pulled out something that blinded Tor with its brilliance. “I have a paranormal object.”
Tor put up a hand to block the pulsating red glow. It was so bright. Like the sun but in a shade of red. He couldn’t see the shape or the size, yet knew that she held it with one hand. “Put that away! What the hell is that?”
She set the thing on her lap and placed a palm over it, which quieted the glow to a smoldering simmer. “It’s Hecate’s heart.”
Tor didn’t recognize it as a volatile object from any lists he had read or compiled, but that didn’t mean anything. There were so many weapons, objects, tools, even creatures that were considered a danger to humans and paranormals alike. The most dangerous had to be contained, or Very Bad Things could happen in the mortal realm.
“What does it do besides blind a man?” he asked.
“Hecate was the first witch.”
“I know that. But she’s long dead. Is that her actual heart?”
“Yes.” Melissande patted it gently. The object pulsed with each touch. “It’s said that should her heart ever stop beating, all the witches’ hearts in this realm would suddenly cease to beat. Ominous, right?” The red glow softened her features and gave them an enchanting cast. Her lashes were so thick, they granted her eyes a glamorous come-and-touch-me appeal. “But it’s pretty indestructible. I dropped it earlier. Got a little dirt on it. No big deal. Though it looks like glass, it’s not. It’s sort of a solid gel substance.”
“You dropped it? Wait.” Tor took a moment to inhale and center himself. And to remember his goal: normal. “I’m not doing this. I’m no longer in the protection business.”
Melissande’s jaw dropped open. And those eyes. Why couldn’t he stop staring at those gorgeous eyes? Was it the sparkly makeup that made them glitter, or did they really twinkle like stars? Maybe she’d cast an attraction spell on herself before finding him. Witches were sneaky like that. And how had she found him? Tor prided himself on his ability to blend in, to be the classic everyman. That she had been able to track him down without a phone call...
He wasn’t going to worry about this. He’d made his decision. Normal it was.
“I need to get on the road and dispose of the remains,” he said, turning on the seat and gripping the steering wheel. “You can leave now.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Did you decide just now you’re not doing the protection thing anymore?”
“No, I—”
“Or is it me? I get that my dad and his brother are a couple of big scary witches. Woo-woo dark witch stuff is imposing. But I’m not asking you to work with them.”
“I’ve been considering this decision for weeks. Months,” Tor protested. “And it’s final—”
“Oh, come on. One more job? I need your help, Tor. I’m just one tiny witch who has an ominous magical artifact stuffed in her purse that seems to attract strange things to it. In proof, on the way to finding you, I gave a zombie the slip.”
“Zombies do not exist,” Tor said sharply. “Revenants do. But the walking dead are a false assumption. It’s impossible to have a dead person walking around, decaying, and actually surviving more than a few minutes.”
“Is that so? That’s good to know. Still not sure I believe you. But revenants...” She cast her gaze out the passenger window.
And Tor couldn’t help but wonder what it was about revenants that gave her pause. Damn it! He didn’t care. He could not care. If he were going to make the transition to normal, he had to get rid of this annoyingly cute witch.
Yet the glow from the heart, seeping between her fingers, did intrigue him. Something like that should be under lock and key, kept far and safely away from humans. And should it fall into the hands of the Archives, whom her uncle Certainly Jones headed? The Archives wasn’t as beneficent as they were touted to be. The things they stored weren’t always left to sit and get dusty. Tor didn’t even want to think about all the nasty happenings that occurred because something the Archives had obtained had been used.
Yeah, so maybe he had stepped into that circle of danger with one of the Jones brothers. Whew! He knew far too much about the ominous power of dark magic. And yet he had lived to breathe another day.
“You want me to protect you and that thing?” he asked. “You know the Agency would take that heart in hand and put it under lock and key? In fact, if you want to hand it over, I guess I could take it right now—”
“No.” She lifted the heart possessively to her chest. Tor squinted at the maddening glow. “Can’t do that. I need it for a spell that I can’t invoke until the night of the full moon.”
Which was less than a week from now. Tor always kept the moon cycles in his head. It wasn’t wise to walk into any situation without knowing what phase the moon was in. Had tonight been a full moon? That werewolf would not have gone down so easily for the slayer. And burning it would have roused every bloody wolf in the city to howls.
Tor rubbed two fingers over his temple, sensing he wasn’t going to be rid of her as easily as he wished. “Why me? What or who directed you toward me and suggested I might want to help you?”
“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m weird.”
“I already think you’re weird. I don’t think a person can get much weirder than stealing a dead witch’s beating heart and then breaking into a stranger’s van to beg for his help.”
“What makes you think I stole this?”
“I—I don’t know. Is it a family heirloom you dug out of a chest in the attic? Something dear old Granny bequeathed to you on her deathbed?”
