Hunted: witch paranormal romance (Coven of the Raven Book 2)

by Shona Husk

  “I’m careful.” Was he careful enough? Which would be worse: the cops on his tail or a demon on his back? But he knew if one came the other would follow.

  “Last one, Noah.”

  “But what will happen to all that work?”

  Mason shrugged. “I don’t know right now, but I know you can’t continue the way you have been. You’re burning out. I don’t want to lose you and I won’t risk the coven.”

  People heard coven and witches and immediately regressed about four hundred years. Every person associated with the coven would be brought down. What he was doing was bigger than risking his own life. Mason had couched it as caring but it was play by the rules or leave, and if he left, a demon would burrow in and the cops would catch him in the wrong place. He could almost see his life falling apart the way it had five years ago. Back then people had stepped in to patch it back together. His uncle and Mason, most notably. The next time he’d be on his own. He heard the slam of a cell door in his mind. That was something he never wanted to hear again.

  “What if I’m successful and I get what I need?” However small the chance, it was there and he needed to know if Mason was trying to railroad him into quitting. Mason had to care about his work.

  “Great.” Mason smiled. “Then we can disseminate the information and other covens can deal with their own demon cases.”

  And it would be out of his hands. Mason had this all tied up. The worst part was Mason was right about everything. But what would he do if he wasn’t chasing up demons?

  “You will be looking after the books, the way Peyton deals with any legal issues. You have a place here, if you are willing to accept it.”

  And admit that he was a full-time witch and everything his father hated.

  Mason picked up two files and handed them over. “Until Rachel is paying, you have other work to do as well.”

  “You don’t want my answer?”

  “No. Because you haven’t made your decision. You just think you have because one option is unpalatable. Let me know when your heart is in it.”

  Noah took the files back to his office and sat down to read them, anything to pretend that it was just another day. He saw the rest of his life stretching out as he aged in this office. He had no life beyond work. However, there was nothing he could do about that right now, especially since he’d taken on Rachel’s problem while still having to do the rest of his work.

  The first one was for an office that dealt in developing software. They wanted an extra layer of security installed—something that he and Sawyer could do in an afternoon. The second one was the Morrigu having a giggle at his expense as there was a lost cat the owner wanted found. That he could do relatively quickly.

  One find-the-kitty spell coming up. Of course, he wouldn’t tell the owner he’d found it with witchcraft; no, he was just a damn good PI. And damn good at lying. He spread out a map of the city and, with the cat’s collar in one hand and a metal arrowhead on a leather string in the other, he found the cat in a couple of minutes. He took the map, the collar and his pendulum with him and went to retrieve the cat and return it to its owner. Some witches liked to use a crystal pendulum for finding things, but he’d always preferred the old metal arrowhead. He slipped it over his head so he could feel the pull against his chest.

  Two hours later, cat and owner reunited and cash in his pocket, he was actually feeling happy. The sun was shining, warming his back, and while he couldn’t save everyone, he could save a cat from slow starvation after being locked in an empty basement flat. He was that desperate he’d take any win these days. He realized he was still seeing things in terms of winning and losing, as if it was about him. He’d helped someone, that should be enough instead of trying to tally it into some invisible score sheet. The score sheet wasn’t making him happy…finding a cat had. It had also made the cat and owner happy. He needed more days like that. Was that what Mason was offering if he were to let go of the demons? What would the Morrigu say? That would be an interesting conversation, and one he wasn’t ready to have with Her.

  He knew Rachel was in the office the moment his hand touched the front door. He could see her pushing her way in, could feel her anxiety. A cloud slid over the sun and the happiness he’d felt evaporated. He swore and went in, his smile gone. He handed the invoice and fee to Mason, who was on the desk. “Cat found.”

  “She’s in your office.”

  “I know.” He didn’t stop and wait for Mason to lecture him, again. Mason wasn’t his damn father. His father gave him lectures about throwing his life away every time he rang home. He didn’t understand why his son had gotten an expensive college degree that he didn’t use or why he’d voluntarily joined a coven and was pursuing witchcraft. His father had spurned magic and ritual, believing that if the family ceased practicing the Morrigu would let them walk away. Noah was living proof the Goddess got what She wanted.

  His office door was open and Rachel was sitting with a cup of water. She was becoming a fixture in his office and, while he wasn’t going to complain, maybe he should get Rachel her own cup if she was going to keep dropping in.

  She looked up at him. “I hope you don’t mind me waiting.”

  “It’s fine.” Unless she knew magic she wouldn’t have been able to unlock his drawers, and there was nothing personal in the office. That was the way he liked it. People didn’t need to know about him, he needed to know about them. “How are you going?”

  This was where she’d either lie or tell him the truth.

  “I took your advice and moved to another hostel. I should have stayed where I was.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Her tongue darted over her lip. “He was on the train.”

  Truth. Now he was getting somewhere. He didn’t know where, but it felt like progress. He lifted his eyebrows as though he was surprised. “Did he see you?”

  “I don’t think so, and I haven’t seen him again. But if I hadn’t been moving I wouldn’t have been at risk.”

  “Or he already knew where you were staying and was coming to find you.” Which was probably closer to the truth.

  Her face paled. “He’s here. What am I supposed to do?”

  He wanted to say run, but if she ran he wouldn’t be able to follow, and right now she was his best lead into unraveling demons—his last lead. If she ran, he wouldn’t have a chance of saving her; she’d just be stalling the inevitable. Running didn’t work.

  “Tell me everything, Rachel. Like I said the first night, start at the beginning and don’t leave out anything.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Have I doubted you yet?” He smiled, grabbed a piece of paper and leaned forward.

  Rachel considered him for a moment. Dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. His coat was draped over the back of his chair where he’d dropped it when he’d come in. He had that same cocksure glint in his eye, but he was all business again. It was almost as if he knew something she didn’t. Or thought he knew.

  Just what would he say if she said she thought Cory was using magic and not drugs to stay in the game? Would his lips widen in to a grin before he fell off his chair laughing or would he manage to keep a straight face until she left and then laugh behind her back?

  And yet, when she looked closer, she was sure his apparent confidence was an act. A varnish over something much darker. She wasn’t sure she wanted to scratch it and see what lay beneath. Her fingers curled against her thigh.

  Why did she keep coming back?

  Because Noah listened, and so far that put him head and shoulder above everyone else. Even her parents. Cory could do no wrong, hell the whole town thought that. Every fan probably thought that. She was the jealous wife who was being a bitch and overreacting and Cory was the come-back king!

  “Promise me you’ll listen to the end and not laugh.”

  “So far what you’ve told me hasn’t sounded very funny,” he said, being completely serious.

  She huff
ed out a breath. “Fine, don’t accuse me of being crazy. I know what I’ve seen.”

  He leaned forward a fraction, suddenly more intent. “What have you seen?”

  The look on his face made her want to ease back into her chair. It was…too…intense, too focused. Too something. And yet, at the same time, it warmed her all the way to her toes. Maybe she just kept coming back because he was gorgeous and she just wanted to spend some time with a nice-looking man before her husband caught up with her.

  Maybe she should’ve cheated on him so he’d have something to be mad about.

  She swallowed. “Twelve months ago Cory was injured. But I’m sure you know that.”

  He nodded, confirming her suspicion that he’d dug far deeper into her life than she’d expected, considering she wasn’t paying him.

  “He should never have played again. At first he was gutted, he was depressed, popping pills and seeing people to try and fix him continually.”

  It had been the darkest part of their marriage, but she’d been there even as he’d been pushing her aside. Not man enough for her, as if all his worth was tied to a stupid ball. She’d loved him because he made her laugh, they had fun, he’d made her feel like the only woman in the world. When things had been good, she’d been able to brush aside the other things. He had an image to maintain. She had to play the part in public even though she resented the idea that being herself wasn’t good enough.

  “About two months into his physio he changed again. The depression lifted, he stopped talking suicide. I was thrilled and thought things would go back the way they were—not that they had been perfect, no marriage is—but it was like living with a stranger. He’d watch me, like really watch me, as if expecting me to do something. He’d follow me, accuse me of spending too much time out and making up meetings with my friends. Then when I was at home, he told me to back off, leave him alone, and that he was concentrating on getting better and didn’t have time for me.” Whatever she did, it had been wrong.

  “Did he stop sleeping with you?”

  Rachel frowned. “What does that matter?”

  Noah gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Perhaps he was having an affair, wanted to be faithful to the new woman.”

  “No.” That would have been better. That would have been easy to explain, even if it was still painful. “He told me he couldn’t have sex, that it would take energy from the healing. Four months later he was training again.”

  Noah tapped the pencil on the edge of the table, his forehead creased. “So why did he get better? Did he get some magic medicine, pray for a miracle?”

  “I don’t think it was a miracle he was using.” She’d seen blood on the hem of his jeans when doing the laundry. Found a black silk robe at the back of the closet and had caught him putting powders and herbs into his protein shakes. She drew in a breath and lifted her gaze from Noah’s illegible notes to his face. This was where it would go horribly wrong and she wanted to watch for the flicker of mirth on his face, or the realization he was talking to a crazy lady. But she knew she wasn’t crazy. The Cory she knew no longer existed; something else had taken his place. “People don’t change.”

  “Actually they do. Head injuries, trauma—”

  “Not like this. He looks like Cory, but he isn’t. I think when he started using black magic to heal, something took him over.” She shuddered at the memory of him turning out the light and, for a nanosecond, seeing a monster instead of his shadow on the wall. “I saw the devil in his shadow.”

  The pencil went still, for a moment there wasn’t a single sound. It was as if time had stopped and only she was awake. Then he spoke. “Firstly, black magic isn’t a healing force.”

  She blinked, waiting for him to laugh or clap his hands or do something instead of looking perfectly serious. He had to be laughing on the inside.

  “Secondly, draw the shadow.” He handed her the pencil and a sheet of paper.

  She started reaching for the pencil before her brain realized what he’d said. “What?”

  “Draw me the devil that you saw.”

  He wasn’t just listening, he was believing every word she said. Wasn’t he supposed to tell her magic isn’t real and that what she saw must have been a trick of the light? He was supposed to be explaining things away the way everyone else had. This was more unnerving. What if what she’d seen was real and she wasn’t crazy? Her heart began to race and the room became warm. She’d wanted someone to listen to her, and now someone was and it wasn’t making things easier. “Um, why?”

  “Because I need to know what it looked like, and technically demon is the word you want. The devil is a Christian concept and demons predate Christianity.”

  She took the pencil but her fingers were numb and her hand was shaky. “Why are you humoring me?”

  “I’m not.”

  “What I just said can’t be true.” Everyone else had told her it was impossible, that she must have been drunk. That she should be supporting Cory instead of trying to keep him down. Didn’t she want her husband to get better? She did, but he wasn’t better. He was different.

  “You believe it’s true, why are your beliefs less important than everyone else’s?”

  “But you believe me?” She glanced up at him.

  “Yeah. People go to church and pray for miracles all the time. There is more than one god, and not everyone’s miracles are shiny and white. Some come from a much darker place—it all depends on who you were praying to.” He touched the paper. “Humor me; draw me Cory’s demon.”

  “You believe in demons.”

  “I believe in all kinds of things.”

  “So they are real?” She started drawing a giant, bulked-up body. The memory was as clear now as it had been that night. Soon after, they’d started sleeping in separate rooms.

  “That depends on your definition of real. Are they monsters released from hell? No. Are they nasty manifestations of the worst parts of people? Then yes.”

  Manifestation of people’s bad bits. What did that even mean? She added a nice set of curving horns to the top of the creature’s head. “So they aren’t real?”

  “Your husband’s imagination didn’t pull apart that lawyer.”

  Her mouth dried and she tried not to remember, but Cory’s threat still echoed in her ears. She couldn’t leave, he would find her and he would kill her. “You’re saying he summoned…no, created something that would do that?”

  He should be telling her to calm down and that demons and monsters didn’t exist. That her husband was probably just whacked out on steroids or peptides or something that the testers couldn’t trace. She should be happy he could play again. Didn’t she care about her husband’s career?

  No. She’d stopped caring months ago. She’d stopped caring about Cory, too. She was a horrible wife; she felt like a failure. But she could still see the cold, dead look in his eyes. Cory was gone. The man she’d once loved no longer existed. The love they’d once had had never been deep. She knew that now. She had been young and compliant, a pretty thing for his arm to go around. Once in his embrace it was much harder to get free, people envied her—so her life must be something worthy of envy.

  Noah looked at her picture and didn’t say anything.

  “Is Cory possessed?” Rachel risked asking. She’d wanted to ask the pastor in Liberty, but had been too afraid that he’d laugh at her and tell her what a good man Cory was, real community minded.

  “No, possession usually burns a body up in weeks or less. He’s just got a demon riding him.”

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, not understanding what he was saying. Her life had just crossed into some weird alternate place where demons were real. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “You asked me to believe you, which I do, but now you’re freaking out because I know about demons and magic?”

  Well, yeah. She gave him a wan smile. “No one has believed me up until now; I think it’s only fair I get to be a little suspicious.” She’d sea
rched and found nothing odd about the Uncommon Raven Agency. The self-defense classes were legit, and they all held private investigator licenses and the business filed all of its taxes. Did they make their money by believing any crazy story and then saying they’d get rid of the demon with some kind of sham magic? Noah didn’t look much like a witch. “What are you going to do, charge me a thousand dollars to exorcise the demon from Cory?”

  “He’s not possessed, at least not yet. Besides, I thought this wasn’t a case, you just wanted some tips on avoiding him?”

  “So it’s still free?” Paying Noah would burn through what money she had, but since Cory already knew she was in New York did it really matter? Maybe he’d already cut off her cards in the hope she’d be forced back to him.

  “Yep. Unless you think I’m doing a great job, then you can start paying me.” He grinned. “But back to your problem. It sounds as though Cory was using performance-enhancing magic to make him tougher and faster.”

  “The black robe and herbs?”

  Noah’s eyebrows rose. “Tell me about them.”

  “That’s all there is to tell. He freaked out when I went near his supplements, said I was trying to sabotage his career.” She’d asked what he was taking, told him that it was changing him and he’d yelled at her. He’d never raised his voice before that moment. She looked at Noah, he was really interested. Maybe she wasn’t the crazy one in the room. “Can you fix him?”

  While she knew she’d never go back to Cory, he didn’t deserve to be caught up with magic and demons. There was obviously something wrong with him, and once he was better he’d leave her alone.