WarlocksAngel

by Marly Mathews

  He’d put a lot behind him in the months since he’d introduced himself to Anya. He’d quit the Triple Hexed Agency and officially turned his back on the Bloodbayne Coven, something he knew his former witches and warlocks in arms would not take well.

  In fact, some of them would attempt to come for him. Those who were too cocky for their own good would try to take him down to earn the reputation of being bad-assed. They’d fail of course, but some were just too arrogant and needed to be knocked down a few pegs. Those who knew the breadth of his power would not pursue him. Instead, they’d pray he stayed as far away from them as he could.

  After leaving the Triple Hexed Agency and making a point to distance himself from his father’s coven, he’d also been offered a new position by the Universal Magical Authority and felt certain his mother, Angelica, would be proud of him. After apprehending the notoriously psychotic Hyacinth Glory, he’d attracted the Universal Magical Authority’s attention and they’d told him they needed more warlocks like him to whip their agents into shape.

  Despite all these achievements, he still required the support of a new coven and felt positive he’d find one that shared his view on witchcraft and responsibility in using it in due course.

  His new position within the Magical Authority would open him to many suitable covens—although he had his heart set on joining the one his mother had once enjoyed membership of, and the same one Anya and Dallas would also be members of.

  The Ross Amulet he wore under his clothing warmed his skin. It gave him a sense of comfort and made him feel justified in the way he’d forsaken his former life. He could no longer condone the use of dark magic, and though not all the witch hunter agents at the Triple Hexed Agency used the dark side of the craft, he was better off not being tempted by surrounding himself with those who did. Still, they served a good purpose as some continued to do the same work he did by going after those who used the dark arts and preyed upon the innocent.

  He kept in touch with quite a few of the agents there and they would keep him in the loop should anything develop concerning his father’s trial and the fact that he was facing several life sentences behind bars on Vanguard Prime.

  Seeing a broken-down car on the road, he pulled over and stepped out into the crisp night air. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of the Atlantic Ocean. As he walked closer to the scene, he raised his guard. He could sense the resonating use of dark magic, and it set him on edge. Witch hunters using the dark arts had been in this vicinity not more than ten minutes ago. They were gone now but had left destruction in their wake by the looks of things.

  One witch and two warlocks were sprawled out on the pavement close to the automobile. He moved to the injured woman first and felt for a pulse. She was alive but badly hurt by the wounds he could see. It seemed they’d engaged in one hell of a magical battle with what he could only assume were witch hunters, and if his hunch was correct, he was closely acquainted with these in particular.

  Hearing the noise of someone grunting and groaning, he moved over to the two men who looked as if they’d fallen in battle together. They were on the ground in front of the woman, which meant they’d been attempting to shield her but had not succeeded. By the way they resembled each other, he assumed the two men were related. All three of them were well over seventy, but even for their advanced age, they’d given one hell of a fight before finally being defeated.

  One of the men was still conscious. He was trying to get to his feet and kept slumping back to the ground. “Up, up, have to get up,” he mumbled, his speech a bit slurred from taking such a heavy blow.

  “Easy there, my good fellow. It appears you’ve been hit rather hard by a concussive blast spell. I’d reckon your marbles have been rattled. Fortunately, you and your friends have not suffered life-threatening injuries but it will take you a little while to bounce back. You don’t want to make it worse than it already is.”

  The man stared up at him with a bleary look. He seemed rather dazed and confused but had control over his faculties enough to seem upset about something and that something wasn’t himself or his friends in arms.

  “Do you know who you are?” Oliver asked, seeking to figure out whether or not the witch hunters’ hexes had muddled the man’s brain.

  “My name is Master Finley Richards, former Special Agent of the Halifax Magical Authority. Help me up, lad. I must get to her. They can’t take her away from Earth. If they do, a terrible travesty will befall us all. They will have power the likes of which no mortal should ever possess—man or warlock—and certainly not a Bloodbayne Witch Hunter. Those bastards are the bane of us all.”

  The man’s gravely serious words hit home. Oliver grimaced in the moonlight, something he didn’t think the older man would see, but he had to have one hell of a set of eyes on him despite being knocked senseless. In his youth he must have been quite the warlock.

  “You needn’t fear, my boy. I don’t expect you to help me face them. I just have to hold them off long enough until the Halifax Magical Authority arrives. They should already be in our air space but I don’t hear sirens wailing, do you? I’d like to know what is holding them up for such a good lengthy time. Their response times are usually much quicker than this—back in my day, they would have gotten to her before my brother and sister-in-law could ever hope to reach her.”

  Oliver shook his head. “No, I don’t hear anything. In fact, I’ve never been in such a quiet town.” If the Bloodbayne Witch Hunters were here for someone, he had to intercede and stop them from wreaking their hell on another innocent. “Who is this woman you speak of, Master Finley?”

  “She’s part of our coven. Her name is Dallas Hyde-Redgrave and she’s the sweetest little creature you’ll ever meet. Quite clumsy, bless her, but sweet nonetheless, and the worst part is, she has no active powers. She’s a sitting bloody duck for those bastards. The Magical Authority knows this and yet they are being far too lackadaisical for my tastes.”

  Obviously the man had realized Oliver was talented in the magical arts, because one didn’t usually just start talking about witches and warlocks to the humans who were devoid of the craft. Even though it was well-known now that magic existed, they still didn’t openly talk about it with those who lived outside their world.

  “I completely understand,” he said, anger stroking through him. “Why don’t we get your friends back into your car and then we’ll drive on to Redgrave House.” He hoisted the man to his feet, supporting most of his body weight. He helped him over to his car and assisted him climbing into the passenger side.

  “Wait a minute,” Finley said. “How do you know that Dallas lives in Redgrave House? Who the hell are you? I’ve gone and done it. I’ve screwed up and handed her over on a silver platter to yet another witch hunter. Marion always told me my loose lips would get us all in trouble. My forty years with the Magical Authority should have taught me that lesson.”

  “My name is Oliver White.”

  “Dear God in heaven, I really fucked it up big time this time around. I’ve heard of your family and the stories were not glowing. If you do anything to hurt that sweet girl I will come back from the grave to make your life a living hell. You mark my words, boy.”

  Oliver sighed. He admired the man for his courage and his resoluteness in protecting Dallas, yet he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain when Finley referred to his bastard father’s family. He wished he could dump the name White and take on the name of Ross. He would have already done it had he not been concerned about having his biological mother’s blessing.

  His father’s wife had been an indifferent and sometimes a cruel stepmother to him, and when he became a teenager he had discovered why—she’d always been jealous of the love his father had for him.

  His father had told him his mother had died when he was a baby but when he’d reached the age of twenty-one he’d found out the awful truth—his mother had been a slave of his father’s. Once he’d discovered that his mother was Angelica Ross, daughte
r of the infamous Ebony Ross, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that side of his family—and from that day onward he’d questioned his way of life and all his father had taught him.

  His father, on the other hand, had been a violent and devious man by nature. Despite those detractors to his overall character he had been a decent father to him, and had taken his stepmother to task several times for the way she’d treated him. Nonetheless, he could not tolerate his father’s actions toward his mother, Angelica Ross, nor could he condone the way his father had ripped him from his mother’s arms.

  What he would do to have five minutes with her to see how she felt about him. He prayed that she would accept and embrace him, and yet, he couldn’t be sure how she would react when they were finally reunited. If she rejected him, he would have to deal with it. He just hoped it wouldn’t spark the darkness inside his soul he constantly repressed. He could not turn into the man his father was. He could not.

  “You needn’t fear. I am not here to hurt Dallas. Rather, I think I must step into the role of her protector. My sister, Anya Ross-Redgrave, sent me here to see Dallas. She hoped we would become fast friends and she’s due to arrive in about two weeks, at which point she’s decided we could all enjoy Redgrave House as a family.”

  “Anya is an only child,” Finley stated matter-of-factly. “You’d better do something to change my mind about you, son. My first impression of you is betraying me at the moment. I thought you were a good young man but now I’m starting to decide not only are you are a witch hunter but you are a liar as well.”

  “I am no liar. I am Anya’s brother through our mother. Angelica gave birth to me back on Vanguard Prime while she was…”

  Finley looked painfully shocked. “A slave. We know about her past on Vanguard. Angelica never kept the horrors of her life as a slave a secret. We always knew she had a child before Anya. Alas, we believed—”

  “You believed her first child had died.”

  “Yes, we never pressured her for more information. We knew the subject pained her terribly, and whenever someone broached it, her husband went into protective mode. Anya’s father was like a bloody grizzly bear with a sore ass when he got riled.”

  “I can understand his emotions,” Oliver said. “You stay here and rest. I must get your friends into your car and then we should be on our way to Redgrave House.”

  “We aren’t far. We’re about five minutes away now and if you speed, we’ll get there in even less time. Don’t worry about being pulled over, I still have influence around here. As for my friends—they are my friends and they are family. Marion is my sister-in-law and Nicholas is my brother. We all worked for the Magical Authority. It looks like we’ve gotten a bit rusty in the last few years, although to be fair, we were not the front-line agents. Most of us dealt with correcting potions, mishaps and spells that went array. We came into contact with the odd testy or inebriated warlock or witch but nothing the likes of those assholes.”

  “Don’t worry, I can deal with these bastards. I’ve gone through my whole life dealing with their sort.”

  “I pity you in that case, lad. You should stay on Earth for a few months and get a taste of a nice, normal life. You can’t beat the kind of living we offer here in Gerrans.”

  It was a happy thought, making a home for himself in such an idyllic place. Using his magic, he levitated Marion and Nicholas and gently deposited them side by side in the expansive backseat of the automobile. Their health would remain stable until the Magical Authority reached them. He would have to charge up the car with a bit of magical juice, or they would not get to Dallas in time. If he let her slip from his fingers and allowed her to be taken by his former comrades, Anya would never forgive him, and he couldn’t bear that.

  By the time he enchanted the car, it would take them there in two seconds rather than five minutes or less.

  “Buckle up, Finley. It’s going to be a very fast ride.”

  Finley tossed him a curious gaze and did as told.

  “Let’s burn some rubber,” Oliver said before starting the car and pressing on the gas.

  Finley grunted as he was thrown backward in his seat under the extreme momentum. “What did you do?” he asked, just as they screeched to a halt again.

  “I magically charged the car up a wee bit. I would have made it able to fly but I haven’t seen any flying cars around here and I wouldn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

  Redgrave House was beautiful. It was a Victorian style with white siding and red gables. Right now it looked eerily still—almost too still considering the fact that several of the windows had been broken and the front door was blown open, most likely by one of his former friends. Anya must have had protective charms cast on this house, because it looked as if it had already been under siege and had fallen—badly.

  “I think you’d better stay here, Finley. It could get messy inside and you’re in no shape to help me. In fact, you might just be a hindrance to my efforts in saving Dallas.”

  “I will stand guard out here. If they get past you with Dallas, I will do all that I can to stall them long enough for the Magical Authority to arrive.”

  “Your Magical Authority really sucks on timing, you know? The Vanguard Magical Authority would already be here, helping to stop the witch hunters instead of taking this long to respond and putting her in extreme peril as a result.”

  “It can be easily explained. Nova Scotia is a very quiet place low on magical crime compared to the kinds of things that happen elsewhere on Earth. And compared to your home planet, well, I can only say we are very safe, so I’m quite certain they are underestimating the threat level. It should not be like this, but maybe after today things will change. It didn’t help that Anya covered up the last incident involving witch hunters going after her cousin.”

  “It’s happened before?” Rage rolled through him. He would make sure that after this attempt they didn’t dare try to return. The gall of the Bloodbayne Coven never ceased to amaze him. Someway, he would send them a firm message to stay away from Earth and to steer clear of Anya’s kin.

  “Yes, it happened twice before. The first time had tragic fallout. The second time barely affected anyone but Anya. She easily took care of it, and I do believe she thought they were done. I don’t think she would have left Dallas if she’d known they were going to return to try again.”

  “It ends here tonight. I’ll send the Bloodbayne Coven a message they will not soon forget. Maybe Anya was too soft on them—I have no such proclivity. I will make them rue the day they ever came to Earth.”

  “You know what, I’m kind of glad you are not the enemy, because if you were, I’d be a little afraid. In fact, I might just need a spare pair of clean undies.”

  Oliver laughed. “As long as you are so devoted to Dallas, you will not have to worry about incurring my wrath. The men inside, on the other hand, will be shitting their pants before I’m done with them.”

  “They might do that before Dallas is done with them. She had that unfortunate effect on my neighbor’s nephew once a long time ago, and he never did get rid of his nickname from that day forward.”

  He looked over at him. “Are you serious? What is his nickname?”

  “Poo Poo Pants Perdue,” Finley muttered. “She’s got some kind of wicked touch, but if they avoid skin-to-skin contact with her, she can’t do anything to help herself.”

  “Well, I’ll be sure to keep her at an arm’s length.”

  “She is safe to touch as long as you don’t have her angry at you, and if you haven’t earned her abiding hatred for some reason. She was fully justified in her actions against my neighbor’s nephew. He was a snotty little bully who went away from Gerrans about ten years ago. Last time I heard, he was in prison down South somewhere.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I’d better get a move on. I can’t let Dallas have all the fun.” He stepped out of the car. Slamming the door shut behind him, he hoped they heard him coming. He had n
o need to hide his arrival, nor did he want to sneak up on them. He wanted them to know that hell on Earth was coming for them, and he wanted them to realize exactly who the warlock was who would be their undoing. The last thing they would see would be his face.

  As Oliver stepped into Redgrave House, he heard a sound that made his heart skip a beat. The heart-wrenching screams of a woman met his ears. Speeding through the house, he followed the anguished cries. The scene before him surprised even a man of his questionable reputation.

  The witch hunter in front of him had Dallas locked in an agonizing hold. He was sending electrical shocks throughout her entire body, and by the looks of it, doing it just for sadistic fun.

  Son of a bitch!

  Her dark-blue eyes were wild with pain and the fire that burned within her. She looked like a blonde angel. Their gazes met and she stared at him. Most people would have been calling out for help.

  Apparently Dallas wasn’t most people. She seemed resigned to her fate, willing to die without regret. He couldn’t tell if she feared him, or realized that he wasn’t with the other witch hunters. Either way, he didn’t have time to consider it—he had to put an end to the pain she suffered. If she wanted to die, she wasn’t going to get her wish this night.

  “Enough,” he bellowed, releasing the full throttle of his magical might. The Ross Amulet magnified his already awesome power. Blinding light engulfed the room and he heard her faint sigh of relief as she was freed from her agonizing position. Before she could hit the floor with a painful thud, he gently caught her in his magical grip and slowly lowered her to the ground.

  As for the warlock who had been gleefully torturing her, Oliver had him wrapped up like a mummy on the floor, unable to move, unable to speak, and hopefully only able to feel the agony of the torturous hex Oliver had placed on him.