King of the Unsightly (Tempting Trickery #1)

Witching Hour and Whiskey

A ll I wanted to do was relax in my crummy apartment, binge-watch my cliché romance movies, and cry my eyes out after my horrible breakup with Jared. Not deal with my mind’s twisted idea of a bad omen.

Man, my hallucinations were out of control. No way that lady kicked down my door.

A muffled squeak fled my throat, and I nearly toppled over my dining room table as the lady materialized in a chair beside me. I lurched back, slid open my window, and scanned all the rusty cars crowding the parking lot.

Everything outside looked normal.

My sight fixed on the woman still leaning in the chair, and my breathing hitched; her long black fingernails clicking against the table sent shivers down my spine.

If this was a new type of foreplay, I was far from interested, and I really hoped Lucien didn’t have the audacity to hire a stripper. The possibility wasn’t entirely out of the question since he attempted something similar for my last birthday in hopes of raising my spirits. Ridiculous .

Her mouth curled into a crooked grin. “The name’s Raagini, and we need to talk.”

A small freckle on her left cheek disappeared into her smile lines as I gawked at her sheer confidence. “Yeaaah, okay.” Wow. I finally hit rock bottom, even for me.

Her ebony hair bounced along with the tapping of her laced, black boots connecting with the tile floor; the thick layer of mud plastered on her soles chipped off with each tap.

She kicked her boot again and more mud fell, and I sighed in frustration. A stripper would have the common courtesy to knock and not track dirt everywhere.

This lady was so inconsiderate.

Raagini clapped her hands, and my concentration went back to her. “Soon you will be thrown into a war you don’t understand. One Larisa started and you, sweetie, will have to end.” She pulled out a lighter and popped it open, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag before blowing it in my face. She met my gaze again with the cigarette between her tobacco-stained teeth, and I coughed at the secondhand smoke penetrating my lungs. “My, why are you acting so skittish? It’s only a warning. I’m here because your mother’s magic is fading, and her coven will stop at nothing to control the keys.”

A thick layer of smoke permeated the air, and I waved my hand, blinking a few times to fully take in her presence.

What the hell was she even rambling on about?

She obliterated my front door, materialized in front of me, and babbled on about magic, keys, and my mother, and dared to judge me for acting a little skittish? Newsflash lady—any normal person would have kept screaming bloody murder. And I wasn’t some coming-of-age preteen who recently found out about her dark past and was prophesied to save the world. No. I was a twenty-three-year-old woman eating premade sandwiches for dinner for god’s sake, and who had more important things to worry about than a psychotic rant from a stranger—like my overdue rent.

Yeah, a stiff drink was needed after all this.

My throbbing temple threatened a migraine as I grounded myself back in reality. “Listen here, uh.” I rubbed my forehead, and tried to remember the name she told me after she kicked down my door. “Rebel?”

“Raagini.”

“Riggggght. Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t have magic ... and you’re insane.” I raised my voice and pointed to the hallway. “Now get the hell out of my apartment!”

Raagini threw her head back, slapped her knee, and cackled as if I said the funniest shit in the world. Her laughter died as she snatched the coffee mug in front of her and swirled it around. Her glare darkened as she smashed the cup against the wall, shattering it into tiny fragments. Her palm dripped blood as the artificial light reflected the pieces puncturing her open wound.

“This will be you if you don’t learn to protect yourself.”

She chanted under her breath, and the shards flew from the floor to her palm, reconstructing to their original form.

The cup fell to her hand, repaired like she didn’t slam it against the wall. I pivoted slightly, my vision lingering on my jean jacket placed on the counter a couple of feet from where she sat.

Could I slip away while she entertained herself with cheap magic tricks? And did Lucien honestly think hiring a deranged magician would make me feel better? Where was he, anyways?

A hard lump formed in the back of my throat, and I swallowed. “Super cool.” I scrambled to the counter, snatched the jacket, and shimmied into the black pants I left in the hallway when I thought my night would consist of movies, ice cream, and ugly crying, not some lady who got off on scaring the living shit out of me.

The door was still attached to the bottom hinge as I slid on my ankle boots and staggered out of my apartment.

“Now is not the time to run from your past, Adeline! The creatures next won’t be as hospitable!”

“Sure thing, lady, and how about next time, you ring the fucking doorbell!” I yelled back. My muscles strained under the tension enveloping my body as I rushed down the hallway, not giving Raagini a second thought.

The elevator dinged as I flew past it to the twentieth-story emergency exit. I shouldn’t take the stairs, but as a creature of habit, no way would I confine myself to such a tight, closed-off space. Elevators were a big no in my book, and I would rather be free and out of breath than trapped like a rat. It reminded me too much of the basement as a child.

My foster parents loved to spout nonsense like how it would cleanse me of all my sins if I stayed down there long enough. God, the Kelleys were complete psychopaths.

My hand was firmly pressed to the side of the wall as I shifted my weight and willed the thoughts of them away. My pace quickened as the loud thumps of my boots slamming against the steps rang in my ears.

I rounded the stairwell and my left shoulder collided with another, and I shrieked.

A wave of nausea washed over me. Raagini’s sharp, piercing features now occupied my mind.

My frantic heart launched out of my chest, or at least on the verge of it when I spun to face who I crashed into.

Ah. It’s not her. I emptied my breath and wiped the sweat dripping from my forehead.

“What’s your problem?” the woman snarled.

I frowned at how her tattered navy blue hoodie hung loose over her shoulders as she glared at me. She passed over a needle to a gangly looking man with greasy hair. He slouched halfway over the railing; the stench of mouthwash and stale weed compelled my nose to wrinkle in revulsion.

Could I perhaps run into someone a little less aggressive, or was I asking too much?

The woman narrowed her eyes as I gave her a short shrug and continued my descent. I didn’t need to apologize. I needed to get away from my apartment before Raagini appeared in front of me again.

A muffled fuckin’ psycho echoed as I descended farther.

I chuckled between the sharp breaths stabbing my lungs. Any other day, I might have picked a fight with that lady, but not tonight.

Tonight ... I reached my limit.

I pushed open the emergency door, avoiding the parking lot and the unwelcoming stares. The cool wind flailed against my skin as I bolted across the street, tripping over the sidewalk step and falling headfirst through a bush.

I grumbled and whacked it with my fists and took a deep breath before I regained my dignity and stood up. Of course this would happen to me at the worst possible time.

And even if I thought I had an ounce of magic, I would have turned my foster parents into toads or skipped town or maybe attempted to make money off scamming people. But I definitely wouldn’t run from her if I did or let myself tumble into a bush like a clumsy idiot.

Hoping to god no one witnessed my minute of vulnerability, I trekked along the sidewalk. The dirt clung to my palms, and I patted them off on the sides of my pants. I lifted my head, and my stress evaporated as the gaudy sign embellished with silver wings sparkled in the moonlight above me.

I yanked my shirt down to appear less frumpy, and a murder of crows reflected in the tinted window of Hera’s Palace, emerging from the dark alley behind me.

“For fuck’s sake, let a girl breathe.”

A couple walking hand in hand rounded the corner and shot me concerning looks. I waved, but it only creeped them out as they scurried faster and crossed the street.

Ouch. A little hurtful.

An obnoxious crow gilded past me and landed on the windowpane and craned its neck. “Is she dull, Gren?”

“She changed.”

“She’s hideous.”

“I have doubts.”

“Can’t be.”

“Definitely not.”

“Quiet!” the one-eyed crow shouted. They hushed, immediately. He seemed like the one in charge and the one called Gren, seeing as they all settled their feathers and looked at him once he spoke again. “She is the one who has the key.”

They all croaked and mimicked a yes, yes as if satisfied with Gren’s answer, not that I cared. If I indulged in my hallucinations any further, it wouldn’t do me any favors.

Disregarding their bickering, I pushed open the glass door and a sweet aroma of apples with a hint of oak and spice caressed my nose. In the corner, a pianist stroked the keys effortlessly as they swayed to the music. The ballad soared through the air, the heartbreak evident in each note.

From the crystal chandeliers to the dim lighting, I stuck out like a sore thumb. My outfit didn’t match the aesthetic at all. People in formfitting suits and cocktail dresses occupied all the tables. I contemplated turning back when they skimmed me over. But I wouldn’t let a few pompous-face assholes deter me. And I didn’t have it in me to wait in the dark for a lift to Crest’s, the place I frequented the most in Deanville.

So my options were ... drink and get mean-mugged or sit in the alley and have a bunch of crows shit-talk me?

Obviously, I’d rather drink.

I passed a couple; the man sported a buttoned-up, all-black suit with a cerulean-blue tie and slicked-back hair, and the woman wore a slimming emerald dress adorned in silver jewels. Her long auburn hair rested in loose curls as she twirled a full glass of red wine. She looked me over, but surprisingly, without discontent. The man on the other hand, his look of disgust was palpable.

So I gave him what he wanted. A show .

I flashed him a smug grin and a wink, making damn sure he saw my I Heart DILFs shirt in all its glory. A glimpse of a smirk appeared on the woman’s face, but she turned, giving her full attention to her glass.

Satisfied, I rushed to the restroom. I still had some decorum, no matter how small.

I bent over the sink and wiped the smudged mascara under my gold-speckled, blue eyes, grumbling in defeat. I looked exactly as I did when I broke up with Jared a few days ago. A hot mess. My brunette hair splintered out like I went through a windstorm, and I tried like hell to smooth it down to no avail. My cheeks flushed with color, and my lips were parched, aching for water.

I did the best I could and took out my red lipstick from my jacket pocket and applied it over my full lips. I managed to tame my hair down a bit, making myself appear half decent.

Content with my appearance, I glided out of the doorway and sat on a mahogany barstool. I ran my fingers through my hair and waited for the bartender to notice me.

My necklace came to mind, and I pulled it from under my shirt and squeezed it in my palm; my other hand tapped the bar top rigorously as I traced the key before shoving it back underneath my shirt.

Why would anyone want this piece of junk? With a silver key in the shape of a hexagon and an engraved crescent moon on it, it looked like some cheap knockoff. And it was only a simple keepsake from my mother with some weird written language on it I couldn’t comprehend. Not that I desired to find out what it meant or what Raagini was talking about. It only soured my mood when I thought about her.

The bartender appeared in front of me, and I jerked backward. “What can I get you?”

I rubbed the nape of my neck and eyed the shelves of liquor. “Whiskey and ginger ale.” I desperately craved something strong but also something that wouldn’t upset my stomach, and this was the perfect concoction.

The bartender plopped the drink down with a bored expression—not holding back any of their hostility.

I guess they didn’t like my DILFs shirt either. Go figure.

“Fifteen dollars,” the bartender said in a pinched tone and with glazed-over eyes.

Forcing my jaw not to drop, I handed my debit card over. Small tears welled in the corners of my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. The thought of my bank account plunging any further crushed my soul.

I’m fine. This is fine . It’s not like I had an eviction notice on my apartment door or got fired for punching some creep who grabbed my ass last night.

Oh, wait . . .

I chuckled humorlessly and rested my forehead on the cool bar top.

Sulking wouldn’t save me or give me my job back. Figuring out my plans going forward was my best bet.

I launched upright, grabbed my drink, and took a sip. Relaxation enveloped me like an inviting blanket as the icy liquid warmed my stomach. My worries seamlessly melted away.

“Found you,” a sultry voice sang behind my ear.