Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame E.C. Farrell (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📖

it,” Hank says. “Like I said, it’s untraceable. Even by the guild. I had it spelled against scrying too. For now, you should be safe.”

Thank the Fates for good old Hank. I let my head drop back, willing the muscles in my neck to relax. In a long list of difficulties, not having to worry about getting a hold of a new phone takes some of the pressure off.

“Thanks Hank,” I say, scuffing a shoe across the carpet. “If you find out anything else about Joel Smith, let me know. I’m going to attempt to scry on Max’s mom. I doubt we’ll be able to convince her to do anything even if I can find her, but it’s worth a try.”

“Good luck. Water spirits are tricky to pin down.”

“I don’t believe in luck.”

“Good vibrations, then.”

I smirk. “I’ll accept that. Considering no other hunter has been able to find her. I’m going to need all of that I can get.”

“It only takes one,” Hank says. “And you’re pretty great at what you do, Fee.”

“Don’t puff me up. I’ll get a big head, then definitely mess up the spell.”

Hank chuckles. “You’ve got this, Fee.”

“I’d better get to it,” I say. “Be careful, Hank.”

“Yeah, you too, kiddo. Text if you need.”

We end the call. Again, I sink into the chair, and reposition the stone over the map. Now that I know the cell is safe, I should be able to focus better. Whether or not Max’s vibrations will be sufficient, however, remains to be seen.

Like before, the crystal spins a circle around my screen, blurring the Map app as it searches for the vibrations I’m looking for. Every few rounds, it tries to come back to this hotel. I grind my teeth as my heart rate kicks up and my vision doubles. The stone’s speed increases. Finally, the movement stops. Mostly. Though the display solidifies on a specific city, it continues to quiver, almost like it’s unsure.

With a pointer finger and thumb, I zoom in a little, squinting at the area. This is absolutely no help. While I excelled at fae geography, I’m trash at remembering earth locations. Sam has tried to help me. He even went so far as to make me a giant map of the United States complete with fun facts attached to push pins. But my brain doesn’t seem to want to absorb any of it.

It most assuredly doesn’t remember the city my stone has landed on now. Shreveport. Where in all the realms is Shreveport? I zoom out. Louisiana. Not horribly far from where we are currently. At least there’s that.

Saving the location to my favorites, I glance at Max’s sleeping form.

Now on his stomach, his arm hangs off the edge of the bed. In the low light of the room, the shadows across darken, wiping out his eyes so his pale face looks almost skull-like. Chills crawl along my skin. Grimacing, I shift forward, supporting myself on my knees. Cracks still branch out from the corners of Max’s mouth, gray blood congeals on his chapped lips and the corners of his nails, and every vein is tinged black.

Though I don’t want to wake him up, all of these symptoms point to the fact that he desperately needs more water.

I grab the cup from the nightstand, fill it again, then crouch next to him. “Hey, up and at ‘em, water spirit. Time for some more fluids.”

Nothing. His eyes don’t even flutter.

Worry gnaws at my stomach. Gently, I nudge Max’s elbow with the tips of my fingers. “Come on, dude. Wake up.” When he still doesn’t rouse, full on nausea rolls through me. I set the glass on the floor, grip his shoulder, and shake him much harder than I mean to. “Max.”

Slowly, Max peels his eyes open, the lashes sticking together with sleep. I drop my head in relief as he mumbles something completely incomprehensible and probably in Portuguese. He groans, bumping my knee with his knuckles.

“You okay, mama?”

A slightly crazed laugh bursts past my lips. “You’re the one who wouldn’t wake up. Please tell me you just sleep like the dead, and I’m not going to have to find you a healer.”

Rolling onto his side, he gives me a sleepy grin, downing the water I hand him before answering. “I definitely sleep like the dead. Being this drained makes it worse. No healer necessary, just lots of water. I should’ve slept in the pipes. That would speed things up.”

I rest my chin on a fist. “Alternatively, we could throw you in the bathtub.”

Max laughs. “Not a bad option.” He clears his throat, then covers a rough cough with a forearm. “Did you get a hold of Hank?”

“Yeah, he’s covering for us.” I ease back onto my feet and go to refill his glass again. “I was also able to scry on your mom. The location is a little shaky, but it kind of looks like she’s in Shreveport. Do you know where that is?”

“More or less.” Pushing himself up against the headboard, Max’s face twists and he grunts. “That’s a weird place for her to be. Something about that doesn’t feel right. Then again, she might be there for a guy.”

“That tracks.” I rest my elbows on the back of the chair. “With how hard she’s been for other hunters to find, could she be blocking me though? Or confusing the spell?”

Using a family member’s vibrations is never super accurate, but the fact that no one else has been able to track her down makes me wonder if she’s charmed herself against scrying, or something like that. She would have to be incredibly powerful if that’s what she’s doing. Very few paranormals have that capacity.

Charming an object against a location spell is one thing. My cuffs merely confuse that magic. With enough power and concentration, a witch could easily unscramble it and find me. If Aline Avila is charming her entire body? That’s next level.

Max scratches his cheek. “She might be able to confuse a spell. My