Easton presses his lips together, trying hard not to let his eyes wander over my body. “You do,” he relents. “But you don’t look like a hunter.” He reaches into the backseat of his truck and grabs something. “Here. Put these on.”
“Seriously?” My brows hike up as I take the worn flannel shirt and dirty boots.
“If I’m going to pass you off as a fellow hunter, you need to look like one. Take off your wedding ring while you’re at it. No hunter could afford a monstrosity like that.”
“Hey,” I snap and defensively bring my left hand up to my chest. “This thing isn’t—fine, it’s a little over the top.”
“A little?”
I make a face and shake my head. “Turn around so I can change.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he quips, lips pulling up in a smirk.
“It’s not yours to look at anymore.”
“Right. You’re owned by a vampire,” he huffs. “I know how they are.”
“It’s never been like that with Lucas,” I tell him, pulling my arms through the sleeves of my black tunic. “Now turn around before I cast a temporary blindness curse on you.”
“Fine,” he huffs and turns.
I quickly change my shirt and put my rings in my wallet. “Thank you,” I say as I pull on the boots. Easton speeds out of the parking lot.
“We’re friends now,” he says, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at me. “Aren’t we?”
“We are.” I tug on the boots. They’re a little snug, but it’s nothing I can’t put up with for an hour or so. “Are you sure he’s still going to be there?”
“If there’s one thing all hunters have in common, it’s their ability to drink themselves under the table. Especially after a hunt. Order members always get together and brag…both about the kill and how much money they made.”
The Order of the Mystic Realm are demon hunters for hire. Other hunters like Easton, who went into the monster-hunting business because someone they loved got killed by something evil, aren’t the biggest fans of Order members. Hunters like Easton do it out of a sense of duty and are all rather self-righteous, if you ask me.
“What do you have to do to get the truth potion to work?”
“I hold the vial like this.” I reach into my purse and pull out a little glass potion vial with a cork stuck in the top. “I say the magic words and then pour it in his drink.”
“And he’ll have to speak the truth?”
“The whole truth and nothing but the truth. It lasts about an hour,” I say, knowing he’s about to ask.
“And the glamour?”
“I’ve already cast it.”
Easton looks at me, narrowing his eyes. “It’s not working.”
“It is.”
“No, you look like you.”
I smirk. “That’s how it works.”
“What?”
I flick my fingers and telekinetically turn down the volume of the country music Easton was listening to. “I appear as you want me to appear. You were expecting me, so I appeared as myself. So I go up and talk to this asshole, he’ll see me as he wants me to be. I could be his ideal woman or something harmless like an old lady, I guess.”
Easton almost swerves into oncoming traffic staring at me incredulously. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah. It’s complicated but effective. It wears off, too, so make sure I leave before the clock strikes midnight and things start turning back into pumpkins.”
“We won’t be there until midnight…and pumpkins? What?”
“I know. I was making a Cinderella joke.” I close my eyes, suddenly feel sick again. I put my hand on my stomach and slowly let out a breath.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m a little queasy, that’s all.”
“Are you getting sick? Don’t puke in my truck. I just got this thing detailed.”
“I don’t get sick,” I say without thinking. Easton doesn’t know I’m a Nephilim, and while I’ve moved him from my I can’t fucking stand you list to my I trust you list, the less people who know about my lineage, the better.
For their sake and mine.
“I’m just stressed,” I admit. “A lot has gone on lately.”
“Really?” he actually sounds surprised. “I thought you had plans to take an extended honeymoon and not even be here.”
“I did. A lot changed since I saw you at the wedding.”
“You decided to get a divorce?”
“Hah,” I sneer. “No.” I look out the window, stomach flip-flopping. Why did I leave my drink in the Jeep?
“Am I supposed to take your silence as a clue you don’t want to talk about it, or is this one of those things I ask about only to be told you don’t want to talk about it when really you do?”
“No. Or yes? What was your question?” The sick feeling goes away, and I turn back to Easton.
“What’s going on?”
“I exposed a bad witch, got her fired, basically, with her powers bound. She turned to necromancy and is attacking the people I care about. Her latest was sending a hex bag to the store in the mail, and my non-magical employee opened the package.”