To Kiss A Kringle (Southern Sanctuary Book 13)

by Jane Cousins

  He would have liked more time to collect data on the extent of Verona’s powers, but there was a look in the woman’s eyes. She had been disrespected. Her ego dented. And there was a casual dismissal in her gaze now when she glanced at either Mara or Dotty Hulme.

  It seemed to Cullen that Verona was actively contemplating cutting ties with her fellow witches and striking out on her own. But first, no doubt, she would get her subordinates to do her dirty work for her by taking care of him and Trix. Not that Cullen was going to let that happen. No, it was time to end this. It would take subtlety, strategy and luck.

  “Hmmm, I wouldn’t want to be you right now, Mara. Although…” He allowed his eyes to drift to the dark yawning shaft that Gwynne had fallen in to. “… take heart. You could be in a much worse position, I’m sure.” Noticing out the corner of his eye that Headmistress Hulme’s gaze had followed his to the second silent shaft. Her large solid body all but straining at some invisible leash that Verona had over her, desperate to check on Gwynne, help her if she could. The fireball Hulme held so casually in her right hand growing noticeably brighter and a little bigger in size.

  Verona might have noticed Dotty Hulme’s reaction, or more likely she just wanted to punish Mara further and wasn’t too fussed if her underling triggered another trap. “Mara, be a lamb and check on Gwynne’s well being, would you?” It wasn’t really a request, more like a command.

  One that Mara was either too well trained or scared to defy, as she hauled herself up to her feet, unsteady, given she’d lost one shoe. Pushing dark hair away from her face, the almost dry strands straw-like and twisted into matted clumps.

  Cullen was unsurprised to watch Mara step on only the large white marble tiles as she made her way across the room. The woman was clever, she would have noted that both she and Gwynne had been standing on black tiles before triggering traps. What was surprising was that she didn’t share this little fact with her fellow witches. In fact, Mara went out of her way to stagger, weaving left, then right. Making it seem as if the combination of Verona’s helpful shot of fiery electricity and exhaustion were affecting her. Rather than the fact she was choosing an all white marble tile path way across the room.

  Standing over the dark shaft, Mara was careful not to put her back to Verona. Peering downwards she frowned. “I can’t see-” Jumping slightly as Verona sent another blast of white fire her way, hitting the rim of the shaft.

  “How about now?”

  Cullen was pretty sure Mara was only see red pigments flowering in her retina thanks to Verona’s once again questionable help, but the woman shook her head. “No… nothing. She was solid stone when she hit the water. Perhaps she forgot to switch off her magic when she impacted the water, or maybe she couldn’t. We never did experiment how water would impact a stone witch.”

  Dotty Hulme breathed out a half sob, half grief stricken groan. But Verona, her attention never shifted from Mara, who likewise was keeping her attention fixed upon the coven leader.

  “That would be two confirmed strikes against you, Mara.”

  “No. I-”

  “We’ve heard it from the Archer’s own lips now. He didn’t know you were a witch, let alone a Morgana witch. Your unsanctioned actions, hiring that hit squad, set us on the path we find ourselves on today. And now, one of our own has paid the supreme price because of your paranoia and fear.”

  “Verona.” Mara’s pale face was pinched as she began to back up. “I’m sorry. But please, think. You don’t want to do anything drastic. Without Gwynne, the power of the coven is already badly fractured. If you reduce that number to just two, your own magic will begin to weaken.”

  It was a smart play, one Cullen would have made. Make himself invaluable to the one person in the room capable of killing him with no more than a flick of a hand. Problem was, Verona either had done the hard math and figured she could do without both Gwynne and Mara in her coven. Or, she just didn’t give a damn.

  Smarter still, Mara had obviously made a study of Verona and realised that no plea for mercy was going to work. That’s why she kept backing up slowly and carefully, right to the edge of a black marble tile.

  Verona raised her hand, the cruel smile clinging to her lips looking all too natural. “You know, you always were the weakest link. Thankfully there are plenty more witches of our bloodline out there waiting to be tempted by power and riches. I already have several suitable candidates lined up.”

  “Let me guess. Three candidates, right?”

  Verona’s smile didn’t waver as Headmistress Hulme yanked Patricia out of the way slightly to stare at her coven leader. “Three? No. I’ve always been loyal.”

  “Of course you have. Mara is just trying to cause trouble one last time.” White hot fiery flickers of electricity jumped from finger to finger as Verona held aloft her hand.

  “Trouble?” Mara’s back straightened and she tossed back her own head. Glaring Verona’s way. “You haven’t even seen any trouble… yet.” Taking one step back. Deliberately springing the trap, falling, disappearing abruptly from sight.

  Verona’s fire lightning bolt would have been a head shot but Mara was already dropping away into the shaft. Her last act was to lash out with one last lightning bolt of her own. Not at Verona. No, Mara’s was aimed at the huge, ornate, iron chandelier overhead. Her bolt shearing it away from the ceiling.

  Pandemonium erupted in the foyer. Not just because the chandelier was plummeting to the marble floor below, but as it came away from the ceiling, several fire traps that were connected to it were abruptly activated.

  Patricia felt herself falling as Dotty Hulme abruptly released her. Freedom was so unexpected she had failed to lock her knees. Bloody Hell. In that split second she mentally kicked herself, how could her plan have gone so very, very wrong. And what was more infuriating. As the huge metal chandelier came crashing down and gouts of fire sprayed the room. She caught a glimpse of Cullen, just standing there, unmoving, a slight smile tilting up the edges of his mouth.

  Grrr, as Patricia instinctively curled into a ball and activated a sound shield for protection she mentally reminded herself to punch Cullen once they were safe. Because with that smile, there was no doubt in Patricia’s mind that the tricky bastard had somehow, some way, engineered this whole mess. And she could only pray to the Goddess above that the Archer knew what he was doing, and that she would live long enough to deliver that well deserved punch.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cullen had been trained since birth to manipulate others by both overt and covert means. Via use of deliberate words, combined carefully with various tones and inflections. Backed up by subtle movements that were designed to be picked up by the hind brain of anyone in his vicinity. Secretly controlling others behaviour with no more than a subtle shift of weight from one leg to another, an infinitesimal shrug of the shoulder or a casual glance to the nearest exit.

  He’d been in a multitude of dangerous situations in the past. Though never before had his gut roiled with what could only be determined as nerves. Him? Nervous? Yes, because of Trix, damn it. He knew she was capable, but he was fifteen feet away from her. He could only cling to the facts as he knew them. Trix was tough, she was good at both defence and offence and she was smart. Very, very smart.

  He’d factored various scenarios for when Mara made her escape bid, praying she’d get his non-verbal cues and take out the chandelier, setting off the fire traps. Hell, he’d eyed it enough that she couldn’t bloody miss the major hint he was signalling to her. Depending upon her primitive survival instincts to pick up on it.

  Still, it was a relief to watch Headmistress Hulme drop her hold on Trix and raise her arms to deflect the streams of fire criss-crossing the foyer. The fire witch deftly batting away the fiery blasts with ease. Cullen’s gut unclenched slightly, his idea had paid off. Trix couldn’t have been in a more perfect place for protection.

  Of course chaos is by its very nature unpredictable. And even he, an Archer, with decades
of training, couldn’t foresee exactly what would happen as the ancient metal chandelier crashed against the marble tiled floor. The sound battering everyone’s eardrums. Several parts of it breaking off and ricocheting around the room. Lethal bits of metal, some the size of pebbles, others bigger than his head.

  Essentially though, for a few seconds, the room was a lethal death-trap. Those pebble sized pieces might as well have been bullets. The larger pieces - cannon balls. Everything was coming at him at once. Cullen descended to that place, the one all Archers went to in such situations. Depending upon nothing but his senses. His split second ability to analyse the size and velocity of approaching ordinance. He stepped slightly to the right, directly into the path of a pea sized bit of metal that embedded itself in his calf.

  It was the least objectionable result his magic told him. Better that than taking a golf ball sized jagged piece to the skull, potentially splitting it in two. Sometimes it really was all about the lesser of two evils.

  Speaking of two evils. Now that the chandelier was a crumpled wreck on the ground, and the fire traps had all burnt themselves out. It was time to see how the two above ground witches had survived the incident. Hmmm, disappointingly well, unfortunately.

  The wall sconces around the vast foyer provided plenty of light for Cullen to see that Verona was still standing, a long shallow cut across her cheek, blood seeping down to soak into her dirty festive jumper. More interesting to note, was the missing lower left sleeve of her jumper, the singed edges sending wisps of smoke into the air. Verona was clutching her left arm to her chest, cradling it. The skin of her forearm, blistered, red, and blackened.

  Hmm, though the coven leader had been able to combine elements of Mara’s lightning and Dotty’s fire to create the white fiery lightning bolts, the woman was still susceptible to fire.

  Unlike Dotty Hulme, who had batted away the streams of fire with a nonchalance that spoke of easy familiarity and control of the element. Of course, though she was invincible to the flaming streams shot from the ceiling, the Headmistress had not been so lucky when it came to the flying shrapnel. An l-shaped piece the length of a pen jutted from the woman’s right shoulder, and several smaller bits had punched through the woman’s trousers. The fabric darkening fast in places. Though the sturdy woman currently looked unworried by the injuries she had sustained.

  Anger was the most prevalent emotion on Hulme’s face, unshed tears, he was guessing for the presumed dead Gwynne, glittering in her eyes, her mouth flat, her teeth clearly clenched. It was a pity he hadn’t had time to sow a little more discord between the Headmistress and Verona.

  It was obvious to him that Verona intended to clear the decks of what she deemed incompetent underlings that had led to this dismal situation. But Dotty was too grief stricken and angry right at this moment to realise that her life was numbered by hours, possibly minutes.

  The edges of Dotty Hulme’s lips turned upwards in a thin, vengeful smile, as she lifted her arm, a baseball sized ball of flame appearing in her cupped hand. The flames burned so hot the edges of the ball flickered blue. Staring Cullen straight in the eye the Headmistress flung the ball down at the ground, right at Patricia.

  Cullen’s gut lurched for a split second and then settled as the ball of fire bounced harmlessly off the shield of sound that Patricia was maintaining. Damn, he loved a smart woman. The ball of flame instantly winking out of existence with no fuel to burn it.

  Dotty blinked in surprise. She’d expected the woman at her feet to burst into flames, and scream in pain as she tried futilely to put out the fire that ate at her clothes, skin and hair. Instead, the woman was looking up at her with an infuriatingly pleased smile tilting up the edges of her mouth. The Headmistress ground her teeth together and hurled another ball of fire, and another and another. Each one ricocheting off some invisible barrier that covered the tousled haired woman wearing the purple sweater.

  Grrr, Headmistress Hulme hurled four more balls of fire, each one winking out of existence. This bitch and her bastard Archer boyfriend had killed Gwynne. Her anger levels spiked higher as she kicked out in frustration. Ouch. Jumping up and down on the spot, limping slightly, it had been like kicking a brick wall, an invisible one.

  Dotty was so caught up in exacting retribution that she missed seeing Verona roll her eyes heavenwards and issue a soft sigh of irritation. Cullen hadn’t. Hmmm, perhaps if he stayed really, really still, maybe Verona would reach the end of her patience and take care of Headmistress Hulme for him. Unfortunately, Verona’s dark blue gaze shifted back to him, remaining fixed and watchful.

  “Dotty, do cease wasting your time and energy.”

  Patricia maintained her sound shield, just in case Headmistress Hulme decided not to fall in line with Verona’s request. The coven leader obviously chose to rule through fear, but the expression on Dotty’s doughy face read that she was beyond being fearful for her own life right at this moment. Her coven had been irreparably torn apart. Gwynne presumably dead. Mara’s betrayal.

  Dotty Hulme jerked slightly at Verona’s sharp edged words, her eyes glittering with rage and grief, as she flashed a hard, resentful look her coven leader’s way before her attention abruptly shifted to Cullen. The Archer didn’t have any apparent shields or defences as he stood across from them in the foyer. His stance was casual, bordering on the relaxed. Verona may have thought she was pulling Dotty’s strings, but more likely the vengeful woman saw an easier target on which to slake her need for retribution.

  Hmm, two witches against Cullen? Knowing her Archer he probably had a twenty-five point plan plotted and loaded in his brain box on how to take out the duo. But Patricia hated the idea of being nothing but a helpless witness in all of this. She wasn’t just going to stay curled up in a ball on the floor, safely tucked under a sound shield.

  At the very least she should be able to even the odds. And more importantly, if she got Dotty Hulme away from Verona’s presence, the witch might be willing to share a few more of those secrets they had yet to drill down to. Like where were all the children’s bodies buried? Their parents deserved closure. And what exactly did the hybrid Jaguar Elena get out of their arrangement? She’d deliberately sought the witches out, helped them. She was a devious woman, she wouldn’t have done so out of the kindness of her heart.

  Damn, Patricia was pretty sure Cullen had surmised what she was planning to do. The slightest twitch of his left eye signalling his glaring disapproval. The witches might dismiss that tiny little flicker, thinking that the dust floating around the room had caused that barely perceptible twitch, but Patricia knew better. Knew Cullen better.

  Hah, did he really she would let him take all the risks? They were in this together. Had been from the moment she’d issued that challenge to Cullen that she would be able to pin point the traitor. Time and time again she’d proven to him that they worked better as a team, as equals. And she let him see all that in the mulish, stubborn glare, she was sending his way. She was doing this, going to help, and he would just have to accept that gracefully.

  Their silent exchange only took three seconds, and it both amused and scared Patricia a little at how in sync they were. Watching as Cullen’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally in acceptance of her offer of help. Blast, she highly doubted she would ever find a man who she could commune with on every level, like this interaction highlighted with Cullen. A man who both challenged and respected her capabilities.

  Damn it, why did the Archer have to be so bloody… perfect for her? How dare he be a great lover and respect her mind and capabilities. He was nothing more to her than a fleeting fling, but for some reason, annoyingly, her perception of him kept trying to break him out of the pigeon hole she’d stuffed him in. Temporary… remember. Do not get attached.

  It was bad enough that she… liked him. If he kept going on as he was, it would only be a matter of time before she fell in love with him. And that could not happen. He was leaving. Returning to his destined path. And she refused to be lef
t behind broken hearted and pining. She was not that woman. Grrr, and now she was considering punching him in his handsome face not once but twice, hard.

  Which was exactly the mind frame she needed to be in to take on a witch. Here goes nothing.

  Releasing the sound shield Patricia rolled sideways fast, gracefully rising to her feet behind Headmistress Hulme. Raising both hands she brought them together fast, as if she was about to clap the sturdy woman on the ears. But instead of touching her, Patricia released a wave of dense sound from each hand. Effectively ringing the woman’s skull.

  Patricia turned and ran back down the foyer. Let the games begin.

  Cullen watched the Headmistress stagger in place momentarily following Trix’s assault. Her hands clasped over her ears, her eyes scrunched tightly shut for just a moment. Surprise written on her face for a few seconds before anger flooded back. Taking a few more seconds to process that she’d been attacked, and that one of their prey was getting away, Dotty turned, ignoring Verona’s protest, lumbering off after Patricia.

  “Idiot.” Verona’s attention never shifted from Cullen but she was clearly talking about her colleague, whose heavy footsteps echoed about the wide, gloomy foyer. The coven leader looked far from worried facing off against Cullen alone. Her dark blue eyes brimming with confidence and sly intent. “Well, Archer. Looks like it’s just down to you and me… and very soon it will just be me.”

  “Just one thing, before we get started. Can you tell me where to find Elena and what her plans might be? I have a… friend, who would be very interested in any information you can provide.”