Magic Binds (Kate Daniels, #9)

by Ilona Andrews

“We’d like you to marry us,” I said. Roman’s eyes went wide. He pointed to himself. “Me?” “Yes,” Curran said. “Marry you?” “Yes.” “You do know what I do, right?” “Yes,” I said. “You’re Chernobog’s priest.” “Chernobog” literally meant Black God, who was also known by other fun names like Black Serpent, Lord of Darkness, God of freezing cold, destruction, evil, and death.

“It can’t be that bad,” I told him. “Oh, it’s bad.” Roman nodded. “My dad refused to help my second sister buy a house, because he doesn’t like her boyfriend. My mother called him and it went badly. She cursed him. Every time he urinates, the stream arches up and over.”

“Parents.” Roman heaved a sigh. “Can’t live with them. Can’t get away from them. When you try to move, they buy a house in your new neighborhood.” “That’s one thing about having both of your parents murdered,” Curran said. “I don’t have parent problems.” Roman and I looked at him.

“You can’t let people insult your wife, Curran. One day you’ll have to choose diplomacy or your spouse. I’m telling you now, it’s got to be your wife. Diplomacy doesn’t care if you live or die. Your wife does.”

Great. Come down to the witch forest, enter a deep dark cave. What could go wrong? Just once I would like to have an important meeting in a happy little meadow or an orchard.

“Did you run any of this by Curran?” “I told him I was about to do something idiotic and dangerous, and he told me to go ahead and let him know if he could help in any way.” “I don’t understand your relationship.”

Curran shrugged. “It’s a family thing. Sometimes your father puts your semidead grandmother into a really bad place and is ashamed of it.” “Yeah,” Barabas said. “We’ve all been there.”

“It’s not that I’m that evil, really. I’m just beloved by evil things.”

So far I had the god of evil and the god of terror on my side. My good-guy image was taking a serious beating. Maybe I should recruit some unicorns or kittens with rainbow powers to even us out.

Just another night in Atlanta. Sitting on my porch between a Greek god who was really a human and an angel of death who was having an existential crisis.

“If Curran and I have a litter of kittens, will you babysit?” Erra stared at me like I had slapped her. “They will be very cute kittens,” Curran said. I smiled at the City Eater. “Meow, meow.”

You’re like a crazy cat lady, but you collect killers instead of fluffy cats.”

I once took a city with five men and a lame goat. If I can do that, you can convince the necromancers to pledge themselves to you.

But true love, the one that endures through time, love that is pure joy, love that nothing in this world can shatter, that kind of love is rare. The two people standing before me today have it. They fought for it, they endured for it, and they earned it. Tonight we are privileged to celebrate their love with them.”