I was losing that cultivated black witch stink the more I tapped into the familiar bond I shared with Colby. She was burning the darkness right out of me, and I couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or if her stripping away my best defense against my coworkers with every spell we cast together would leave me a sitting duck.
Bending over, bracing his hands on his thighs, Clay burst into deep guffaws that left him wheezing.
“It’s not that funny.” I nudged him with my foot. “Breathe, or you’re going to pass out.”
“Okay, okay.” He lifted his hands. “I’ve got it under control.”
Spurred on by his outburst, Melissa gave me a closer look. “Who are you?”
“Rue Hollis.”
“That’s an alias.” She dismissed the name out of hand. “What’s your birthname?”
No way in Hael was she getting that out of me. No one living, aside from the director, knew it. I aimed to keep it that way. The infamy attached to me was anchored in the name he had created for me to hide our relationship. I always assumed it was because he was ashamed of my white witch blood, but maybe, and it was a long shot, he was protecting me from the whispered rumors of daemon stigma.
More than likely, he kept me anonymous so no one would suspect the weapon he spent decades honing until it was aimed at them. Unleashed, I had no conscience, no shame, no morals. I had only the hunger.
“The name you’re looking for is Elspeth.” I allowed a cold smile to mold my lips. “Báthory.”
“That’s not possible.” She took an unconscious step back before she locked her knees. “She’s dead.”
“Retired, in the Black Hat business, usually does mean dead. I’ll give you that. But I’m alive and well.”
“Suppressing your power?” She reclaimed that step. “Or did you lose it during your…sabbatical?”
This right here was what frightened me, that others would pick up on the change in my scent and mistake it for weakness. That was before Colby. I had made myself a target by choosing the path of light, but she ensured I would survive it. Let them think me weak. They had no idea.
“Keep pushing me, and you’ll find out.”
“Give me the book.”
“Not happening.”
“Fine.” Her magic tickled me as she assessed my power. “Just as I thought.” She smirked, but the relief in her posture called out her bravado. “Vanessa, collect the book.”
As the weakest of the four, she made as good a sacrificial lamb as anyone, and she didn’t seem to mind.
I understood the cause of her glee a moment later, when she sashayed up to Asa, picked up a braid, and slid it through her hand until she reached the end. She twirled that around her finger then heaved a sigh when his eyes flashed burnt crimson in response.
It was the weirdest thing.
One second, Vanessa stood there playing with his hair while I looked on as rage churned in my gut.
The next, her severed hand hit the floor with a thud, spilling crimson stains across the tacky carpet.
Nothing happened, as far as I could see. Except, of course, for her hand popping off her arm.
And then the screaming began.
16
“When you told me that would happen…” I began, while Vanessa wailed, “…I didn’t believe it.”
Blood pumping from her stump of a wrist, she wobbled back to Melissa, who cauterized it with a spell.
“Father takes infractions quite seriously.” He rubbed his thumb across my cheek. “Never doubt that.”
“You weren’t lying.” Melissa glanced between us then to Clay. “They’re in fascination with each other.”
“Did ignoring clear and present danger to stare into one another’s eyes clue you in?”
“Kill them.” Vanessa wept in RJ’s arms. “Kill them all.”
“I told you to collect the book,” Melissa said archly, “not grope the daemon.”
“Give us the book.” Timothy stepped forward, hands out in front of him. “Then we’ll go.”
“You’re going to kill us and then burn this place to the ground to cover your tracks. Try to, anyway. It’s what I would do. Good luck with that.” I chuckled at Melissa’s pinched expression. “The director doesn’t know you’re here, or why you’re here, or who you’re threatening, and—make no mistake—he will gut you when he finds out if we don’t do it for him.”
Rumors of my death had been greatly exaggerated, with good reason. Black Hats didn’t retire. We died, or we killed ourselves. That was the only escape. I was an exception, and she would have been smart to wonder why. The director wouldn’t kill me, until he determined I was a lost cause. He had indulged me, up to a point, before shepherding me back under his purview. Until I proved to him I was a white witch, he would treat my dietary changes as teenage rebellion he could stamp out given enough time.
“The director has leashed us for too long.” Melissa thinned her lips. “You might be happy to wear a collar, but I’m done letting him choke me.”
If there was ever an opening for Clay’s I don’t want to know about your kinks line, it was this one.
“Seriously.” I stared at Clay. “You’re not going to say it?” I huffed. “She left the door wide open.”
“We had sex.” He shrugged. “I know her kinks. I can’t unknow them for the sake of a punchline.”
A memory of the time I dropped an oversized wig box that exploded in nipple clamps, dildos, and flavored lube had me agreeing with him. Some things, you can’t forget. No matter how hard you try.
The absence of genitalia did not equate a deficit of imagination.
“There’s a reason the director has successfully chained us for so long,” Asa said quietly. “He’s a power.”
“And a politician,” I added. “The other factions are thrilled to let him handle their problems for them.”
The director leveraged their goodwill to expand his powerbase, lengthening his precious Bureau’s reach.
“Do you have any idea how many failed coups the director has crushed?” Clay puffed out his cheeks. “As a creature destined for eternal servitude, I get it. The control chafes. You want to strike out at the establishment, kill your master. You’ll risk anything—everything—to be free.”
Grief welled in me to hear his impassioned speech, the truth in it, and to know my grandfather was to blame.
“Yes,” she hissed. “We all deserve our freedom.”
“Black Hat exists,” I countered, “because people like us ruin freedom for everyone else.”
We lied, cheated, stole, killed, and worse. We were monsters by any metric. Irredeemable, some would claim. But we had a healthy sense of self-preservation. That was why the director recruited some problems but killed others.
“We have a weapon unlike any who have come before us.” Melissa smiled. “We have the book.”
The book, among other things, was a how-to manual for tapping into Colby’s power.
These witches couldn’t be allowed to learn that knowledge, or it would spread, as secrets did in the end.
When her speech earned firm nods from her team, I no longer had any doubt they were full participants.
That would make what came next that much easier for my conscience to bear.
“You’ll die in chains,” Vanessa snarled. “We might too, but we’ll be chewing on them.”
“That would break your teeth,” I pointed out. “Points for determination, though.”
“Why did you choose her over me?” Vanessa waved her stump at us. “She’s nothing.”
The slur in her words told me RJ had taken pity on her and hit her with spell to numb her pain.
“I beg to differ.” Asa squeezed my hand. “She’s fast becoming my everything.”
A gagging noise brought my attention back to Clay, saving me from replying to Asa.
“Really?” I kicked his shin. “Now you’ve got an opinion?”
The door opened behind them, and a wiry man with a weathered face joi
ned the group.
“Reinforcements are thirty minutes out,” he warned. “We need to wrap this up and go.”
Well, that was good news. I worried Melissa had killed them too. I was glad that wasn’t the case.
“This is your last chance.” Melissa turned her beseeching gaze on Clay. “Please, be reasonable.”
“I hate to end things like this,” he said, “but I’ve got a policy about not negotiating with psycho ex-girlfriends.”
“All right.” She flicked her wrist at Timothy. “You’ve made your choice.”
Timothy swept his arm down in an arc, aiming his wand at the nearest target. Clay blocked the strike, then punched Timothy under his chin. His head cracked back from the force, his spine broken, and he collapsed on the floor in a twitching heap.
On the edge of my vision, flame engulfed Asa, and his daemon form sprung at a screaming Vanessa.
“Rue mine!” he roared as he twisted her head off like a bottlecap then yelled at it. “Mine.”
Meanwhile, I palmed my face, embarrassed by his favorite battle cry. Seriously, we had to work on that.
Through my fingers, I spied RJ sliding along the wall, attempting to reach the table and the grimoire.
Colby was nearby. Not in the hall. In the vents? I could tell by the rush of power illuminating my skin and the bright-white sparks my wand shed onto the carpet. I never stuck to punishments with that kid, but so help me, this time I really was going to pull her internet for a week.
Keeping my face shielded, as if the gory scene was too much, I lured RJ into completing his suicide run.
Sure enough, he swooped in and brushed his fingers across the cover, attempting to find purchase.
I struck out, whacked his knuckles to do the director proud, and he dropped into a tidy pile of ash.
“Who are you?” Melissa’s mouth dropped open. “What are you?”
Allowing my hand to fall, I flashed her a feral smile, but we were out of time for games. We were making too much noise. Human authorities would be called to investigate soon, if they hadn’t already been, and I wasn’t in the mood for interdepartmental cooperation. We need to wrap up, clean up, and go.
The last man standing, the late arrival, skidded as he took in RJ’s remains, but momentum carried him to Clay, who lifted him and snapped his spine over his thigh. The crack reverberated throughout the room.
That left us with Melissa, who I really wanted to turn in to the director to earn brownie points.
Okay, fine, so he would torture her horribly, until she begged for a death he wouldn’t grant. Not much of a white witch thing to do, but it was the least she deserved after killing all those people to sink her claws into Colby. But, sadly, she would be thrilled to chat with the director to avoid said torture.
She would spill her guts about how I had stolen a grimoire from a case and kept it instead of following protocol by logging it into evidence. Then she would enlighten him as to the reason why. He knew Colby existed, and that was damning enough. He didn’t need to know more.
Clay must have come to the same conclusion. He charged Melissa, colliding with her, knocking her back, and pinned her against the door. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t kill her outright. Sentimentality? He really was a big softie. But his flash of conscience or regret, whatever was going through his head, it cost him.
Wheezing through the impact, she swiped out her arm and clawed his forehead, raking furrows in his shem.
The life drained out of him, and he became a lump of clay in a good suit.
Beside me, the daemon tipped back his head and roared until my ears rang.
Fury ignited in my veins until it singed the hair on my arms. The smell left me praying I wasn’t cooking from the inside out. Even the ends of my hair carried embers. I opened my mouth to cry out and choked on smoke climbing the back of my throat.
The grate overhead burst open, and my heart stopped as Colby swooped down to land on my head. I coughed and gasped, trying to breathe, but she didn’t pay me a lick of attention. Her sole focus was on Clay. Even when a charred smell, like leaves burning, hit my nose.
“Book.” I shook and hit my knees. “Book.”
Now I sounded like a zombie. I hoped it wasn’t catching.
The daemon stomped over to the table, palmed the book, then gripped the cover, half in each hand.
“Stop,” he snarled at the insidious tome. “Kill Rue, I kill you.”
The pain roared through me in an endless wave, and I sank onto the floor.
“Stop.” The daemon pulled until a ripping noise filled the room. “Rue mine.”
Tension mounted while the daemon and the book engaged in their standoff, but the book caved first.
Colby blasted off once free of its control, her eyes pinwheeling as she absorbed her surroundings. Rough sobs shook her as she cradled her poor hands, which were scorched black from the power roasting me like a turkey.
When she spun back, her eyes were bright with tears when they lit on me, reminding me so much of the night I bound her to me that my black heart cracked down the middle. “Rue.”
With a grunt of disgust, the daemon slapped the grimoire closed then tossed it onto the bloody floor. He stomped on its cover as he pivoted on his heel, then marched to Melissa. He lifted her over his immobile partner and planted her right in front of me.
“Purge magic.” He poked her with a finger, miming how I incinerated people. “Now.”
Easier said than done, but with Colby cognizant of her surroundings, and her powers, I ought to be okay. Through the stinging ache, I fought to lift my hand toward Melissa. I reached the mucky toe of her boot.
The power within me lashed out in a blazing arc of burning light that forced my eyes shut.
Relief spread through me a heartbeat later, the critical discharge of excess magic sparing my life.
I sucked in my first full breath in minutes and gulped down a mouthful of the ash raining around me, too grateful for the oxygen to complain about its flavor or its texture.
“I’m so sorry.” Colby lit on my shoulder, and I screamed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Not…” I wet my lips, tasting my blood, “…your…fault.”
The grimoire had sunk its hooks in her, there was no doubt of it now, but I would pry her loose and torch the cursed thing.
“Dollface.” Clay knelt beside me. “I hate to do it, but I’ve got to move you.”
I must have lost time. Not good. But there was no other excuse for how fast Clay had been reanimated.
“Let’s…not.” I gulped down more grimy air. “Say…we did.”
“Your little explosion set the rug on fire. And the curtains. And the bed.” He touched my arm, wincing as tears formed in my eyes. “It’s magic. There’s no putting it out until it’s run its course. Not without you.”
Fried to a golden crisp, I wasn’t working more magic any time soon. “’kay.”
“Look on the bright side.” He kept up his cheery façade. “You can add psychic to your resume.” With loving care, he lifted me while I wept silent tears that dripped into my ear. “You predicted this place would go up in smoke.”
“Self…fulfilling…prophecy.” I kept my eyes open by sheer force of will. “Asa?”
“He’s rescuing our stuff and locking down the book.” He leaned over me. “Come on, Shorty. We’re out.”
Shrinking to her smallest size, the tiniest she had ever been, she nestled into Clay’s hair without a peep.
“Asa would have lost himself to his daemon when he inevitably hurt you, and that’s not wise in a human establishment,” Clay explained, saving me from asking. “I offered to help, and he granted me permission to assist, but I gave him busywork. He’s less likely to rampage if we keep him away until you’re settled.”
Since I had no recollection of that exchange either, I must have blacked out longer than a second or two. I was still irked Clay asked Asa’s permission instead of mine. Though, if I was unconscious, I
couldn’t have answered him either way. But it was the principle of the thing.
“Colby, when we get to the car, you’re on phone detail. Call the hotel office, the cops, and the tip line.”
Use of the tip line would preserve Colby’s anonymity while directing the real Black Hats to our location.
“Okay,” she said softly. “On the pink phone?”
“Yes.” He took the stairs at a clip, hit the parking lot, and rushed me to the SUV. “That one.”
Had he bought her a new phone? I had no idea. My brain was too crunchy. “Pink?”
“It’s untraceable.” He grinned down at me. “I put a flaming-hot-pink case on it to make sure we knew which cell was the emergency line. I’m proud to say, we’ve yet to make an anonymous call by accident.”
Back in my day, we didn’t have emergency phones. We also didn’t have cellphones, there at the start.
“The hotel is empty,” Asa said from nearby. “Not a single room was occupied.”
That was bad, but I was fuzzy on why that was so unnerving, thanks to the smoke pouring from my ears.
The back passenger side door on the SUV opened before we reached it, and I glimpsed Asa over Clay’s shoulder. Either he had changed and packed with superhuman speed, which was unlikely, or I had lost more time. That probably wasn’t a good thing. There were limits to what magic could heal, and brains topped the list of repaired organs that didn’t function as well as the factory model.
“Can you heal her?” Asa locked gazes with Colby. “There’s a white witch three towns over, but…”
“No,” she whispered, shame thick in her voice. “I might hurt her again.”
Heartbroken for her, I threw my weight in with Asa. “You won’t.”
Antennae wilting, she shook her head. “You don’t know that.”
“Didn’t you hear Clay?” I swallowed a cough to put on a brave face. “I’m psychic.”
As much as I wished she didn’t have to use magic at all, she’d used it to save me at Tadpole Swim. Our bond was cemented. There was no going back. She would die if she didn’t use her magic now that her body was producing a surplus for me to harvest what I needed to cast heavy-duty spells. This was a setback she couldn’t afford. One mistake couldn’t define her, not with that vile book whispering to her.
Black Arts, White Craft (Black Hat Bureau Book 2) Page 19
