by Quinn Loftis
“Apparently, it can’t just be any lass or the spell to create a witch won’t work. The new witch needs to have specific qualities.”
“Okay,” said Stella. “Apparently it has nothing to do with the darkness in the soul or any of that nonsense. Jewel and Anna are about as far from evil as the North Pole is from the South.”
“You’re correct. It doesn’t necessarily have to do with the state of their morals. It has to do with their familial ties to the witch attempting to change them,” Kale said. “The witch doing the changing has to have a connection to the person they are attempting to change.”
“So, a person could change their mother or daughter?” Kara asked.
“Exactly,” replied Kale. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean a blood relation. Family, after all, can come in many forms.”
Stella could sense there was more to Kale’s words. “There’s something else, I can tell. What aren’t you telling us?”
“Kale?” Heather prompted.
Kale frowned, a pained expression showing Stella he didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. Heather touched his face to get him to talk. “Uh…”
“The spell requires a sacrifice,” offered Nick with a hesitant look at Kara.
“What kind of sacrifice?” Stella asked. “Like slaughtering a goat or giving up sugar for Lent, that kind of thing?”
“That part isn’t exactly clear,” said Ciro. Hope leapt in Stella’s chest. “Apparently it can vary from person to person. The only thing that is certain is that there must be some kind of shedding of blood.” Stella took in the seriousness hiding in the depths of his light brown eyes.
“Okay, no big deal, a little scratch, a little drop of blood, then boom, instant good witch. Sounds easy enough,” said Heather with a shrug.
“Um, yes … but no,” said Kale. He shook his head, and Stella wondered if he forgot his mate couldn’t see the gesture.
“Yes, but no?” she asked. “What’s that supposed to mean, Romaine?”
“The last woman who performed the spell to create a witch died. It was a fae named Metea.”
“But the sacrifice might not die,” said Nick quickly. “Jezebel says the sacrifice doesn’t always die.” Kara pulled back from Nick, her shoulder bumping Stella’s in the process.
“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up.” Stella stood and raised her palms as she leaned forward. “You’re saying we have to find a woman that has some kind of family ties to us, then find someone else who’s willing to sacrifice themselves, and this sacrifice may or may not die in the process?”
If these wolves would quit speaking in riddles, she’d be able to wrap her mind around everything. If their mates thought it was easier listening to gobble-de-gook from them instead of Peri, they were wrong.
“No, the women are taken care of, obviously,” said Heather. “That’s us. We have familial ties. We are part of a pack now. Jewel can do the witch-creation thing on us, no problem, I bet. Just like she did with Anna.”
“We assume that to be true, yes,” said Ciro.
“And the sacrifices are taken care of, too,” said Kara quietly.
Stella turned to face her. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice sharp.
“Why do you think the males wanted to be the ones to speak to us? They plan on sacrificing themselves.”
***
The shuffling of feet followed by the grating of the iron bars of Evanora’s cell awoke her. Both were noises she’d come to dread. She had been languishing in this dungeon for so long, time had no meaning for her anymore. She had no idea if she was about to be fed, or fed upon. Always a thin person, she was now gaunt as a result of the vampire’s persistent use of her as his favorite midnight snack.
Laying on her cot, she opened her eyes and rolled toward the door of her cell. It was the vampire Morfran, as he called himself. Who else would it be? Evanora had long ago given up hope of rescue. For a while, every time she heard a noise, she prayed it was her mate, Sly, storming the castle to rescue her. But every time it was the vampire.
He wasn’t carrying food or drink. That meant it was his turn to eat, not hers. The woman lay there motionless and squeezed her eyes shut, imagining she was anywhere else in the world. Evanora wasn’t going to resist him. That only made it worse. But she wasn’t going to offer herself up willingly, either.
A few moments of silence passed, but the vampire didn’t move. She reopened her eyes and looked up, curious. Morfran wasn’t patient and he didn’t play games. He fed, spoke only when necessary, and then left. To see him staring at her now was unnerving.
“What?” she rasped, her voice rough from lack of use.
“Come,” he beckoned.
Without conscious thought, Evanora slowly slid her legs over the edge of the cot and rose to her feet. Morfran turned his back and walked away. She knew better than to do anything but obey, so she purposefully shuffled after him. As she walked behind him, it didn’t even cross her mind to try to escape or attack the vampire. The first day or so, she might have thought about something like that. But she’d learned how foolish those types of thoughts were.
They reached a set of stone steps, and the vampire ascended. Evanora’s legs were already burning from the short walk. She didn’t know how she’d make it up them, but she knew she must. One after another, she climbed. By the time she reached the top, her breath was coming in labored gasps.
The staircase opened to a hallway that led to a set of double doors. Beyond that, she could see Volcan’s moldering throne room. Evanora had only been there once, when the man had told her her life depended upon the success of her mate and her brother’s ability to accomplish a task he’d set for them.
The stone around her was broken. In several places, light filtered through holes in the roof or walls. Moss and mold grew everywhere. The vampire needlessly grabbed her arm and forced her into the throne room. Again, she didn’t resist.
By the time she reached the throne, Evanora’s legs were trembling. Whether this was from fear or simply from the exertion after such a long period of lack of use, she couldn’t say. The throne sat upon a dais, and the fae sat upon it, looking down at her. She had no trouble kneeling when he commanded it. She could have hardly stood there any longer anyway. She kept her eyes on the ground in front of her.
“My usefulness for you has come to an end,” said the fae.
Evanora had no clue how to respond so she didn’t.
“The task I set for your mate and your brother is nearing completion. And though it might sadden Morfran, I see no compelling reason to keep you among the living.”
She lifted her eyes from the stone floor and faced him. “So, it ends now, then?” Her voice sounded tiny, distant, to her own ears.
Volcan didn't answer right away. He pursed his lips and appeared to be thinking as he surveyed her closely.
“I'm going to leave that decision up to you. I could kill you now. Or, I could let Morfran have his way with you, drinking you dry until you’re nothing but a husk until you have no more blood to sustain him.”
Evanora shuddered. “Just kill me, ple—”
“Or…” Volcan cut her off and held up a finger. “You can join me.”
“What do you mean join you?”
“I’ve been in a very experimental mood lately. I’ve already created a being of incredible power by mixing my blood with that of a gypsy healer. I’ve never tried to turn a warlock into a witch before. You could be the first. I don’t expect you to match my gypsy witches in power, as they are something special. But you could still be great. You can join my army and help me conquer all the known realms. I’ve done plenty of damage in the past with simple human witches. I can do so again with a warlock turned into a witch. And a loyal employee is so hard to find these days.”
“What makes you think I'll be loyal to you?” she said. “After how you've treated me?”
Stop asking questions, Evanora. She mentally berated
herself. This life doesn’t matter anymore. Your mate… Your brother… They’re gone. Just give up and die already. Quit engaging the bastard who tortured you with questions that don’t matter.
Volcan shook his head. “It's always the same with you people. Why should I serve you? You're so mean,” he said in a whiny voice. “You all never understand until afterward how good it feels to have true power. It’s better than anything, trust me.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Evanora rolled her eyes. Even that effort tired out her frail body.
“Don't you ever wish you could conjure fire out of midair? Don't you ever desire the power to turn water into wine? Open locks without a key? Bind people from speaking?” The passionate light in Volcan’s eyes blinked out as he frowned. “Tell me, what do you do with your power? Do you do parlor tricks to entertain children? Perhaps you use it to provide for your people? Pathetic. Don't you think there's more to magic? I'm offering you the chance of a lifetime.”
Evanora pictured her home under the base of the mountain. She remembered her parents showing her and Z how to anchor themselves to the energy of the earth. Finding the ley lines and combining them with earth’s elements, Evanora had discovered she favored water rather than metals like her kin. Sly’s own affinity for air enhanced the power of her water magic as they tended the woods around their mountain home. They were the mages of the forest, the keepers of the land. Parlor tricks were not a warlock’s specialty.
“Truth be told, you’re really lucky to have been captured by me.” Volcan’s hand pressed against his chest as his eyebrows brushed his hair line. A look of pure self-aggrandizing pride graced his ugly face.
She’d been working a storm over the Carpathian Mountains to refill the rivers and streams evaporating in the worst heat wave they’d had in twenty years. Sly had received orders to move toward the northwest to push the hurricane away from the shores where another coven of warlocks lived. A normal life serving their people.
Camping close to human civilization, she had to cloak her presence as well as her looks. Being over six-feet with dark hair, pointed ears, and yellow cat-like eyes would draw undue attention. If her magic hadn’t been so strained from dragging water away from the Carpathian’s snowy peaks into something natural and keeping her existence a secret, she would have noticed when the wards around her tents failed.
She would have been alerted to the vampire lurking in the middle of the night.
“Better than winning the lottery,” she replied, eliciting a chuckle from the fae.
“That’s nothing compared to what I offer, Nora.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed. Volcan did more than chuckle now. He laughed heartily, the sound echoing in the cavernous throne room.
“Nora, Nora, Nora, I can make all your dreams come true. The choice is yours.”
“You're giving me the choice between becoming a witch and serving you, or being tortured to death by your pet vampire?” Her breath strained with the last of her words. It’s not worth arguing with the psychopath. Just let them kill you already. What the hell are you fighting for?
“That’s such a crude way of putting it, but I think you’ve worked it out. It seems like a pretty easy decision to make if you ask me.”
“You're right about that,” she said and rose to her feet. “Terribly simple.” Evanora spread her arms and turned to Morfran. “Do your worst. Kill me now,” she yelled, and her voice cracked under the strain. The vampire didn’t move though he held a look of hatred on his face that said he wanted nothing better than to take the woman up on her offer.
Volcan laughed even harder now, his voice maniacal. When the laughter subsided, he spoke. “I thought you might say that. But only because you don’t understand what you’re turning down.” He put his palms together and smiled. “I’m doing this for your own good, Nora. Morfran, take her to the altar. We shall begin the ritual shortly. Evanora, welcome to my army.”
Chapter 4
“What’s worse? Knowing there is someone in the world created specifically for you and you might go mad and have to be put down before you meet her? Or finding her for a brief moment before she’s ripped away from you and twisted into something … evil? Is there still any good left inside my beloved?” ~Dalton
“I don’t think so, pal. We were given a job to do, and we’re going to do it. My mate’s life depends upon it,” said Sly.
Dalton growled as he stared at the warlock glaring back at him, refusing to drop his gaze. Dalton had to respect the man. The warlock was either very strong or very stupid. Dalton didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was tired of these two males hanging around Jewel and Anna. It was bad enough the girls had been alone with them for weeks. He trusted Jewel implicitly, but the thought of another male with her made Dalton’s wolf restless.
“And my sister’s life, as well,” said Z. “You have no idea what Volcan is capable of, wolf. If you think we’re going back to him without some witches in tow, you’re crazy.” The warlock’s yellow eyes flashed in resignation and determination.
“That’s exactly what he is,” said Gustavo stepped in line with Dalton. “And I’m a bit loco myself. So why don’t you do as we ask before we show you two whelps just how crazy we are?” Like a striking snake, Gustavo’s hand darted out and clamped around Z’s neck. There was a loud pop and a burning smell. Just as quickly, Gustavo yanked his hand back and yelped.
Dalton heard Anna gasp from somewhere behind him. Dalton’s eyes widened. “What was that?” He snarled at Z. The warlock reached under his shirt and pulled out a glowing amulet.
“We’re not exactly defenseless, cur,” he replied, tucking the amulet back under his shirt. “Warlocks, remember? Now, would you like to know what other tricks I have up my sleeve?”
“It’s going to take a little more than that to keep you from getting ripped to pieces,” said Dalton. He felt his teeth elongate and knew his eyes must be glowing as well. He’d been itching for a fight the last two decades as the darkness clawed through him for footing, and for the sake of his pack, he’d always held back. But the moment for patience and hesitation was over.
“I don’t remember wolves being this stupid.” Jezebel’s voice rose above the sound of his growling from the backroom of the shop.
Peri answered and it only spurred Dalton on. “I’ve yet to meet a smart one. But this one is particularly dumb.”
“Go ahead, wolf,” said Sly, rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Let’s see if that fur is fireproof.”
“Dalton…” Jewel’s voice was a warning, piercing through the haze of fury as only a mate could.
“You don’t understand, Little Dove.” Dalton’s growl was gone for her, but his eyes tracked the slightest movements the warlocks made, his body on a hair-trigger.
“No, you don’t understand, Dalton,” she replied, her tone sharp like a cracking whip. “These guys protected us.”
The words flowed over Dalton like sand blasted across a cactus in the desert. He was the one meant to protect his mate, not these strange warlocks. The fact that Jewel endured so much, and he’d just sat around powerless while these two men spent so much time with her, traveled with her, ate with her, talked with her… It was more than Dalton could take. He couldn’t help himself. One second, he wanted to phase and rip the warlock to pieces. The next, it was happening. The third second, he was frozen in place, his jaws held open, slavering. The warlocks yelled and jumped backward, both holding up hands filled with magical fireballs. Peri took a step forward. Her power made everyone freeze.
“Enough, you testosterone-filled mutts,” she said to the room. “I am sick and tired of having to force you impulsive wolves to play nice. If I’d have known when the Great Luna came to me all those centuries ago that my job as ambassador was going to consist entirely of babysitting a bunch of hairy toddlers who can’t keep themselves from having temper tantrums, I would have told the goddess to go pound sand!” She stepped in fron
t of Dalton. Gustavo growled from his position next to Dalton, but he didn’t phase. Peri’s eyebrows raised, and she transfixed him with her gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry, Gustavo. Did you have something to say?”
Gustavo’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Dalton watched from his frozen state in his wolf form. He could see the confusion in Gustavo’s eyes as the man struggled to speak.
“No?” said Peri with a smirk. “That’s what I thought.” She turned her attention to the warlocks. “You two, listen closely. Usually, these wolves are honorable men who protect the innocent. Unfortunately, when it comes to their females, they don’t think clearly and they become very foolish. They are unable to recognize that you behaved honorably in protecting their women. But I recognize it, and I thank you on their behalf. I understand Volcan has put you both in a terrible position.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dalton could see the weight of the world pass across the fae’s face. “I shouldn’t do this,” she appeared to say to herself. “I shouldn’t freaking do this. Sly, Z, I promise you this. For the service you’ve performed in the protection of these healers, a task to which I was originally assigned, I promise to do everything in my power to help you rescue this woman who is your sister, Z, and your mate, Sly. Apparently, I don’t have enough to do already.”
“Evanora,” Sly practically whispered. “Her name is Evanora.”
“Evanora,” Peri said. “I promise to help you rescue your mate, Evanora.”
The fireballs disappeared from their hands. “Thank you, Perizada of the fae,” said Z. “We, in turn, shall continue to aid you in the protection of the healers and the defeat of Volcan.”
“To the best of our ability if it doesn’t put Evanora in danger,” said Sly.
“Very good,” said Peri. “Now, to put this issue to rest once and for all.” She turned to the frozen wolf who was now slobbering all over the floor. “Dalton Black, you have to be the dumbest dum-dum of all the furry dum-dums in the entire pack. I understand that you have endured much when it comes to Jewel. But, I’m tired of dealing with you. I’ve already had to put you in your place once. Apparently, the message wasn’t received. This one will be.” The fae rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck from side to side. She rotated her right arm in its socket, and her fist began to glow. Dalton felt his wolf eyes grow wide. He began to shake violently but couldn’t break free. He would have growled if his mouth wasn’t fixed in a snarl. Peri reared her fist back and smashed it straight into the wolf’s snout. Dalton squealed then flew across the backroom of the Little Shop of Horrors. He hit the wall but didn’t stop. There was an explosion of drywall and lumber as he flew out into the alley behind the building.
