by Tara Lain
Blaine muttered, “Shit.”
Alain’s head bobbed back and forth. He was trying to keep up, but he felt like he was drowning. “I don’t understand.”
Jimmy leaned toward him. “As the familiar for Killian and Sammy, you made both of their powers greater. Without you, they’re less. All of us are.”
“But I’m here.” It came out like a wail.
“You’re different.”
“But I don’t want to be. I need to protect you.”
Killian sighed so deeply it sounded like his chest would crack. “I’m afraid you may not want to be different. You’re making a life just as you are now. A life I think you value.”
His heart beat fast. “My life with Luke?”
“Yes. If you return to your, uh, former self, that life will go away.”
“No. I don’t want that.”
“Precisely. But it’s not really a question, because we have no idea how to change you back anyway.”
Blaine frowned. “But without him, aren’t you guys vulnerable?”
Jimmy nodded. “Probably.”
Gods, he felt like he could cry. “No, I don’t want you to be less.”
Killian’s smile was soft. “You have a life of worth. We couldn’t ask you to give it up, even if we knew how to do it.”
“But why? I have no need to be this person. I can be a witch like you and still have my life, can’t I? You all have lives. You even have wonderful partnerships. Can’t I have that too and still do my job as your, uh, familiar?”
Sammy looked at him with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Al. You can’t because you’re a—”
Chapter Thirteen
THE DOOR blew in! Glass shattered in the window, and a wall of power rushed into the room, pushing Alain flat against the couch, then, like a tidal wave, thrusting him up and over the back. Thud. He landed on the floor in a heap.
Attacked. Protect. Defend.
He leaped onto the back of the sofa, balancing as he’d seen the men on boards in the big waves do. Killian was on his feet with Blaine behind him. Killian’s arms rose, sending visible blasts of what appeared to be lightning from his fingertips. Alain’s heart beat like a hammer. Mine to protect. Must defend.
It was the two women he had seen—the dark-haired and the fair-haired ones. They fired bolts from their hands as Killian did. The two men Alain had watched at the park came after them, blasting away.
Jimmy strode up beside Killian, forming a human—well, witches’—wall. Interestingly, the beautiful Ryder moved up to join them, but Sammy hung back. How frustrating it must be for Sammy and Blaine.
Jimmy glanced over his shoulder. “Alain, get down. You’re a target.”
Hells. He needed to be in that fight. This wasn’t funny. Every instinct screamed in him. His body vibrated like it would explode with the power inside that couldn’t escape.
A blast of light seared past him. He leaped to the side, and it hit a beautiful crystal vase. Crash.
Oh no. Their wonderful home. Alain’s home too, it would seem.
What could he do? The cat meow. They had searched everywhere for that cat. Could he trick them, get them to go away?
He slithered down onto the floor and crawled behind the chair. He peeked out. Killian fired blasts, and thunder murmured in the sky, but he looked frustrated. Like he needed to do more and couldn’t. Jimmy blasted bolts at the four intruders, and Ryder seemed to send waves of force, but it didn’t appear to be enough. Was it the loss of him as a familiar? What was a familiar? Whatever it was, he’d be it.
He crawled quickly into the kitchen and looked around. Breathe and pay attention. If he pulled those witches in here, would it be better or worse? Maybe if he could separate them. Killian and Jimmy could knock off one of the females while Ryder took the other.
Hells, it was a chance.
“Merwaoorwr.”
The chaos and noise continued.
Louder. “Merwaooowrrrrr.”
It was like a breath, a pause in the force field that came from the living room. He peeked out the kitchen door and caught a glimpse of the fair-haired witch backing toward him. Ryder seemed to be flanking her. Oh gods, it might work. He might separate them.
“Merwaooowrrrrr.”
He pressed near the door. If he could leap on her, startle her, it could give Ryder a chance to defeat her.
He took a deep breath. Closer. The female shot a bolt and backed closer to his position. Ryder circled to the side, defending himself with some shimmering blanket of force. Closer.
Every muscle tensed, coiled to spring.
A voice cut through the chaos. “Alain. Holy hell, what’s going on here? Alain!”
Luke!
Alain leaped to his feet and pushed open the door. The blonde witch turned, her eyes huge, and sent flame from her fingers directly at Luke.
No, gods! Never!
He leaped into the air like he’d never believed in gravity and soared toward the witch. “Merwaoooooowrrrrr!”
The blast of power hit with the force of twenty cannonballs and with far greater heat. His skin sizzled. “Noooo.” The pain seared through him, but he didn’t care. “Luke! Luke!”
White!
Black.
Changed.
LUKE STOOD in the doorway. All hell was breaking loose. Where was Alain? He knew Alain was here. Luke had followed him.
A blonde woman turned toward him with a screech. A door pushed open, and Alain ran into the room. Suddenly he leaped into the air like some superhero and shrieked like an animal and…. No, God, no!
Some force hit Alain like a blast from a flamethrower. His body lit up like a match, his eyes widened, and—
Holy blessed shitfire.
No. Not possible. No.
Luke shook his head and fell back against the wall, then crumpled to the floor. But his eyes didn’t close.
A black cat landed in front of him, hissing, spitting, and caterwauling. It was like someone upped the fury of the battle. Killian Barth raised a hand to the ceiling, and lightning flashed through the window, blasting one of the men. The cat jumped into the air and landed on Killian’s shoulder. Its blue eyes blazed like it was lit from within.
Relentlessly, Killian and two other men pushed the females and their one remaining accomplice back toward where Luke lay. The man grabbed his fallen comrade, and they made a break for it, running wildly past Luke out the door. He heard their footsteps on the stairs.
Luke looked up. His head whirled and sight flickered, but he made out Killian standing in the center of the rubble with the cat on his shoulder. The man looked directly at Luke, raised a hand, and all the destruction restored itself. China mended. Furniture righted. The glass in the windows sealed.
Killian reached up and scratched the cat under its chin. “Hi, Luke. Welcome to a bloody mess.”
Luke opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Everything went black.
LUKE’S BODY felt like one big-assed groan.
Sounds. Voices. Alain? Where’s Alain?
Killian’s voice. “Gods, I can only imagine how he feels. I know that my heart would crack in two if I ever lost you.”
“But what can we do?” That sounded like Blaine.
A weight on his chest. He wanted to breathe. He sucked in air.
Something raspy and wet ran over his cheek. Shit. His eyes flew open, and he stared into blue so deep it was like the bottom of the Caribbean Sea. “Oh!” A cat.
No, the cat.
He coughed, tried to sit up, felt like the friggin’ room was spinning, fell back down, and coughed again.
“Mrawr!” The cat leaped from his chest up onto the back of the couch, where it stared down at him, the blue eyes slightly crossed. “Merwaorwr.”
“Shitfire.”
Blaine pulled up a chair beside Luke’s bed of pain on the couch. “You remember Aloysius?”
Luke just frowned.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like crap. I feel
like somebody hit me in the head.”
“They kind of did. Aloysius took most of the hit intended for you, but Killian says you still got the fallout.”
He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to know. Maybe he could go to sleep, and when he woke, this would all be a nightmare.
“Look, I know exactly how you feel.” Blaine sounded like he was smiling. What the fuck was there to smile about? “It would be great not to have to deal with any of this. When I found out, I wished Killian could have wiped my memories so I wouldn’t have to know that all this shit exists. I was like, ‘Vampires can get rid of memories. What are you good for?’ But it is what it is.”
Luke opened his eyes and stared straight at Blaine. The muscles in his jaw twitched. “And what is it?”
Killian stepped up behind Blaine. “I’m a witch, Luke, as are some of the others here. You walked into the middle of a battle with some other witches.”
“Yeah, right.” Maybe he could close his eyes again and this shit would all go away.
“Sorry, those are the facts. Do you have a better way to explain what you saw with your own eyes?”
“Hallucination?” That would be a convenient out.
A tall, thin redheaded kid walked over. “Ryder can probably wipe his memories, Killian. Since he wants to not know, it wouldn’t be as hard as fighting the desire to remember.”
Killian looked up with a crease between those perfect fucking eyebrows. “We’d probably have to eliminate all his thoughts about Alain. Those are too emotionally locked. It’s too hard.”
His whole nervous system jolted. “Alain?” He glanced toward the cat. No way. No.
“Alain is one of us.”
Luke shook his head, but no words came out.
Blaine put a hand on Luke’s arm. Shit no. He shook it off. Blaine’s mouth twisted to the side. “Do you remember when we came to your clinic with Aloysius?”
He didn’t want to hear it.
“He’d been hit with a huge bolt of power while protecting me and Killian from the same witches that were here today. He fell to the floor unconscious. We’d never seen such a thing before. When Killian couldn’t bring him back to consciousness, I suggested you. Apparently, he woke up and had turned into a man in your clinic. Alain. We think Alain was a human in the fifteenth or sixteenth century. Somehow, a witch decided to give him a gift and turned him into a witch’s familiar. That familiar is Aloysius.”
A scream built in his throat. He clamped his lips to hold it back. Deep breath. “You are trying to tell me that Alain is….” He took another breath. “Alain is your fucking cat?”
Killian’s voice was cool. “You had to have seen him change. The same force that turned him human reverted him back to a familiar.”
“Merwaoowr.”
Blaine smiled. “At least he’s the most powerful witch’s familiar in the world.”
Luke’s whole body shook. It started in his groin and worked up to his belly, out to his limbs, and finally into his heart. The man he’d been on his way to loving—was a cat. A spurt of laughter escaped through his lips. He put his fingers on them to hold it back. No way. How perfect. He couldn’t stand humans, so he fell in love with a cat.
The laugh escaped, and his head fell back. He laughed until he had to hold his stomach because it hurt.
Killian stared at him. “What’s funny, Luke?”
He shook his head. Finally, he sat up. “Karma’s a bitch.” He stood. Whoa, woozy. But no way was he sitting back down. He was getting out of this hellhole now. He looked around at the five men. He’d barely realized the others were there. “Thanks a lot, guys. This has been a day I’ll never forget.”
Killian frowned, and it was a pretty scary sight. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this is not information you can share.”
He snarled. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you I’m not anxious to go to the loony bin.” He turned and walked toward the door. “Have a nice life.”
“Merwaowrr.”
He stopped. Everything in his being wanted to turn around. His chest hurt even more than his head. But if he could just get away, it would quit. Out. Of. Here.
He walked across the room and out the door. At the top of the staircase, his knees collapsed, and he fell against the wall. Shitfire. So much for big exits. One more inch and he would have been at the bottom of this staircase, dead.
Get away. Get away. Glad for the handrail, he pulled himself up, staggered down the steps, and went through the outside door, which still stood open—probably from the escape of the attackers. The witch attackers.
Shit!
One foot in front of the other. He’d made it as far as the pocket park when he heard it from the upstairs window: “Merwaooooo. Merwaoooooo.” Mournful and full of pain. If he’d heard that sound anywhere else, he would have searched to find the cat that had been beaten and abused. This time he didn’t have to search. He knew.
KILLIAN WALKED to the window and laid his hand on the silky black fur. “I’m so sorry, Al.”
Blaine came up and put his hand next to Killian’s. “It’ll be okay, buddy. It has to be.”
The black head turned, and those piercing, crossed blue eyes stared at them. Al was always so calm and steady. Not now. Killian could feel the heartbreak in his soul.
Jimmy spoke behind him. “What does this all mean? Are they more powerful than we are without Aloysius? Or can we beat them either way?”
Killian turned and walked to the chair. He flopped into the soft upholstery. Hells, he hated this. “I know my own power grew exponentially the moment Aloysius returned to his form. What about the rest of you?”
Blaine fell on the couch. “I was just happy to see Al.”
Jimmy sat in the other chair. “I felt some increase of power when Al kicked in. But he’s not my familiar, so it wasn’t exponential.”
Ryder shrugged. “Al has relatively little impact on my forces since I’m not a witch. But I still don’t have my full power and would be restrained in using it regardless because of the restrictions of my people.”
Killian nodded. “I understand. We’d never ask you to compromise that relationship.”
Everyone’s head seemed to turn and look at Sammy as he slipped under Ryder’s arm. He blew out his breath. “Without Al it seems I’ve got a lot less mojo.” He looked over at the cat still sitting on the windowsill. “I never knew how much he was my familiar too.”
Killian slumped. “So that means we don’t have our ace in the hole, so to speak. If things got desperate, we all knew we could ask Sammy to change the future just a little. But not without Aloysius.”
Jimmy frowned. “But we have Aloysius.”
Killian looked up at the mourning feline at the window. “I suspect not for long.”
LUKE COULDN’T stop shaking. He grabbed the covers and pulled them over himself. He should take off his clothes, but he didn’t trust himself to stand up. How the hell he’d managed to get home on the subway, he wasn’t sure. People had stared at him, huddled on his seat like he’d seen a ghost. Not a ghost. A witch.
He flipped over on his side and pounded the pillow. No witches! No fucking witches. This had to be a hoax. But how? Jesus, he was a scientist. He’d watched that battle go down. If he’d seen just one of those bolts of whatever—lightning—stuff, he’d think it was manufactured. But he’d seen dozens, and then Killian had snapped his fingers, and all the destruction had been repaired. Shitfire. How could that happen? And why would they go to all the trouble of fooling him?
His mother had believed firmly in witches. She’d tried to be one, which he’d hated. But this was different. No crazy lady playing with mushrooms. These were serious people with serious powers. He’d known from the start that Killian was different. But crap! In his wildest dreams he couldn’t have guessed how different.
If he accepted Killian as a witch, did he have to believe that Alain was—
No.
He pressed his head into the pillow. Alain was
hing his face with his wet hand. Alain lying in the sunlight. Alain trying to lick his own balls.
Alain—flying through the air and turning into a black cat.
Nightmare.
He’d known for certain that Alain wasn’t like other men. He’d ignored the obvious signs of oddity. Difference. When he spoke of stableboys and grand estates, what the hell had Luke thought he meant? When he’d meaooowed while he came, had Luke somehow convinced himself the kid was just a little wacko? Luke had ignored everything because he wanted to keep fucking that beautiful ass and loving that beautiful heart.
He took a deep inhale and let it out noisily. Oh well, maybe things would return to normal again—with one or two obvious differences. Like checking out every person on the street to determine if they were supernatural.
Shitfire.
Get up and brush your teeth. He threw back the covers, shoved his legs over the side of the bed, and stood.
The room spun. Holy crap. He grabbed for the side of the chair, missed, and tumbled back to the mattress. Panting, he wrapped his arms around himself.
His eyes flew open. Amelia. Where was the kitten? Oh, right. He’d taken her back into the clinic, handed her to Amy, and run to catch up so he could follow Alain. He’d just been lucky to see the kid racing down a side street nowhere near the college, so he’d followed.
Lucky.
What he’d give not to know. If he hadn’t seen with his own eyes, he could just believe that Alain had left him. That would have been terrible, but not like this. Strange, but he felt betrayed. It made no sense. The kid hadn’t known who he was. He hadn’t known he was a—
The moan poured out of him like water. He’d cared. Oh God, he’d cared so much. What on earth would he do? Nothing would ever be the same.
He tossed an arm over his eyes and cried himself to sleep.
THE WINDOW from the fire escape opened slowly. One inch. Two inches.
