“Willa.”
“I won’t let you do this to yourself.”
Raina lunged.
Willa twisted around and ran, but even without an added benefit of a demon inhabiting her body, Raina had always been faster.
She grabbed Willa by the hair and whirled her around. Willa lost her balance in the momentum and fell to her knees.
Pain shot up her legs. In an instant, Raina was on top of her, winding her arm around Willa’s neck. And then—God, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. Raina squeezed her in a ruthless chokehold.
Willa’s eyes bugged from their sockets as she gasped for air.
Do something!
Get out of this NOW!
Willa reached up blindly and clawed at Raina’s face. Raina yelped and her grip loosened allowing Willa to wiggle free.
She only made it two steps before Raina was in front of her, eyes white again.
Raina rocked back and punched, landing a blow on Willa’s jaw.
White starbursts filled Willa’s vision.
She stumbled away.
Blood filled her mouth with its coppery tang.
Hand up, Raina narrowed her eyes and said, “Fractus.”
Willa knew the magic was coming, but she didn’t know what form it’d take.
The language had always been foreign to her.
She braced herself.
Crack!
Her world went white with pain as her arm snapped just below the elbow. Fuck! She crashed to the floor and curled into the pain. She just wanted it to end.
Tears streamed down her face.
“Fractus!” Raina said again and Willa’s rib cracked.
“Stop!” she shouted through the tears. “Raina! Please!”
She dropped the collar.
Caleb laughed.
Raina’s footsteps were slow and deliberate as she crossed the room.
Ever since they were kids, Willa worried that one day she would not be strong enough to save Raina from herself.
Maybe today was the day.
I have failed you.
I’ve failed us both.
Raina held her hand up again, now just feet away. Raina would kill her. Take the collar. Be lost forever.
But then the double doors slammed open and Billy the werewolf barreled through the room. He roared. Caleb and his lackeys shrunk away.
Raina turned around as Billy charged her. She raised her hand to him, but thankfully, mercifully, Raina’s speed was no match for a wolf’s.
Billy tossed her aside with a bat of his massive arm.
Raina slammed into the opposite wall and slid to the floor unconscious.
Oh God. Raina!
Was she okay? Would she survive something like that?
“Come on,” Billy said and hoisted Willa to her feet.
She cried out as new pain soared through her ribcage.
“Wait,” she said. It wasn’t her sister’s fault. She wasn’t in control. “Raina—”
“Will be all right,” Billy said. “She’s breathing. Just knocked unconscious. We need to get you out of here.”
Gritting her teeth, Willa bent down and scooped up the collar. She was not leaving without it.
Billy grabbed her bag and ushered her out of the Compound before Caleb or his lackeys could reassemble. They emerged from the building into the darkness. Cool, salty sea air filled Willa’s lungs and cleared some of the fog of the pain.
Where was she going to go? How the hell were they going to fix this? How many more times could they go down this road and survive?
Billy kept himself between Willa and the Compound’s entrance until they reached the garage. At her driver’s side door, Willa fumbled with the key fob. Billy gently took it from her and hit the unlock button.
“What about you?” Willa said. Her mouth was still tangy with the taste of her own blood.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, Ms. Locke.”
“That...what you did...not a lot of people have had my back like that.”
Shouting sounded from the Compound.
“That’s a real shame,” Billy said. “You need to surround yourself with better people, I suspect.”
She sniffed. How could she when her sister was a witch with an addiction to demons?
Willa had once thought that having friends would be good for the both of them. But now she knew better. Inviting anyone in was a risk. For that person and for Willa and Raina.
“You need to go,” Billy said. “I’ll hold them off until you get a few blocks away. But you need to hide for a while.”
The leather collar was still clutched in her hand. Right now it was the only thing keeping her sister safe. But for how long? How far would Willa have to go to keep it out of Raina’s hands? She blinked, dizzy on her feet, and sat down in her car. That felt a little better.
She couldn’t stay here, dizzy or not.
In fact…there was only one place in Blackwater she could think of that a demon might think twice about barreling into.
“Go on,” Billy said and shut the driver’s side door.
Willa pressed the ignition button and backed out of her parking space. It took several jerky movements, what with only one good arm.
She tore out of the bay door just as Billy turned to face Caleb and his lackeys.
Please let Billy survive this.
Please let us all survive.
Chapter 7
POE
There was nothing more demeaning than having to call for a car when one was a supernatural immortal being who had the power—albeit a suppressed power—to literally teleport.
By the time Poe made it back to Drav, the night had started to yawn. He found his Audi exactly where he left it, hidden in the shadows in the back of the Drav parking lot. When he pressed the ignition button, the car purred to life.
He decided to take the long way home and skirted Blackwater’s edge, first heading north through the suburbs. In this century, and in the many that had come before, the easiest mark was always a desperate wife. Sometimes he liked to play a game where he drove through the sleepy streets of one of those pretentiously named subdivisions like Maple Grove or Forest Trails and then try to spot one.
A desperate housewife’s house was usually the one with landscaping that was trying too hard and also failing at trying. There was usually a kid’s toy or two forgotten in the lawn.
Probably a sprinkler system running because a desperate housewife did not have a husband who did lawncare. Most likely she drove a minivan but secretly wished she drove a slick luxury sports car.
He didn’t blame housewives for their desperation. Their lives were stifling. He liked to think it was his duty to help them live a little. On the other hand, they were usually too willing to burn through their wishes. He was always trying to hold on to his power just a little bit longer. And once a wish was wished, he couldn’t stop it. He could interpret it anyway he liked. He could grant the wisher what they asked for in the most ludicrous of ways. But if he did nothing, if he let the magic slip through his fingers, the universe would work the magic itself.
Sometimes, Poe felt as though he were nothing more than a conduit.
In the hierarchy of the supernatural world, djinn were pretty near the top, but Poe couldn’t help but feel like it was all a huge fucking joke. Because outside of a deal, he was little more than human.
But if he had his caeli...
Poe left the suburbs and headed southeast. Blackwell House was east of the city in the rolling hills of what was the oldest settlement of the wealthy. The Blackwells were the first to lay brick there some three hundred years ago.
Once the city was at his back, the streets were quieter and darker. The lampposts shifted from utilitarian to decorative, their frosted globes glowing the perfect shade of gold. The houses were not called houses, but were instead referred to as manors or mansions or estates. Except for Blackwell House, because the Blackwell family was not as ostentatious as humans were.
&nbs
p; When he turned onto his street, he saw a car up ahead parked haphazardly on the side of the road. The driver’s side door hung open, but when Poe stopped alongside it, the car was empty.
He parked in front of it and shut the engine off.
Outside, in the still of night, he focused his hearing. While djinn only had access to their magic when they were invoked, they at least had their supernatural senses at all times.
And there...in the field up ahead, he heard heavy breathing and shuffling steps in the grass.
He looked down at his leather shoes and then again at the tall grass.
“Bloody hell.” He surged ahead.
He caught sight of someone once he crested a gently sloping hill. Moonlight silhouetted the figure in silver. Judging by the roundness of hips and ass, he guessed it was a woman.
Maybe his luck was shifting tonight.
Not wanting to frighten her, he called out when he was a good ten yards off.
“Darling, are you lost?”
The woman stopped. She swayed on her feet and then turned to him.
Poe inhaled sharply. “Willa?”
He ran to her. He could smell it now, the blood on the air and the sweat beading on her brow. Not from the heat of the night, but from her exertion and fear.
“What happened?” he asked when he reached her.
The warm summer air teased at her hair, pulling it from her messy bun. A rogue strand swept across her face and stuck to a smear of blood on her cheek. She opened her mouth to answer, but then her knees buckled. Poe closed the remaining distance between them and caught her mid-fall. He eased down to the ground with her, cradling her in his arms.
“What happened?” he said again, this time with an edge of anger.
It wasn’t just her lip that was split. He could tell her arm was broken, and by the way she cringed just lying in his grasp, he’d guess she had one or two broken ribs, too.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked before his mind had a chance to catch up and figure it out on his own. “Were you coming to find me?”
Willa nodded and gritted her teeth as a new wave of pain shot through her. Poe was worried about making any movement at all, but he had to get her to the house, get her lying down so he could assess her wounds.
In the distance, the conservatory on the back of Blackwell House glowed in the night. They weren’t far from the house, but every step would be agony for her.
“Were you coming to make a deal?” he asked her.
Willa squeezed her eyes shut. “I...” Her breath shuddered past her lips.
“Will, if it’s a deal you want, you can have one. No questions. We can heal you with your first wish and—”
She shifted in his arms and a yelp tore free of her throat. Her breathing came heavier.
“You just have to say the words, love,” he said. “I’ll tell them to you.”
This was not usually the way he preferred to make a deal. Sure, he liked desperate housewives and twisting their wishes gave him a fair amount of amusement. But he would never do that to Will and she was the wrong kind of desperate. Even half-conscious, he could feel her need for help. But her desires were muddled and were torn half between her sister and saving herself.
Poe lay her in the grass. Her breathing turned wet.
Bloody fucking hell. Was she dying? He was no doctor. It was Mad who had the medical training, the experience treating war wounds. And maybe Poe could see in the dark, but he couldn’t see through clothing and skin.
“Just say the words,” he coaxed, his own heart pounding in his ears. “I, Willa Locke, wish to invoke the djinn known as Poe Blackwell—"
“I,” she gasped, “Wil—” But then she pulled in a strangled breath and her entire body went limp.
Poe went still with her.
He listened for the beating of her heart and the repetitive pace of her breath.
When both came, he exhaled with relief.
But now what?
He couldn’t heal her, not without being invoked. He could try to call Dae who was caeli-bound now and had all of his magic at his fingertips, but djinn magic rarely worked for healing when outside of a deal and a wish.
And he wasn’t sure if Dae would agree to it anyway considering the shaky ground they were on. Poe couldn’t handle it if he outright said no. Better not to ask at all.
If he could just get Willa to the house, that would at least be a start.
Gently, he slid an arm beneath her knees and his other around her waist. She was featherlight in his arms and limp as a doll.
Poe cut through the rest of the field and emerged at the back end of the garden. He skirted the fountain and followed the path of low boxwood hedges to the house.
The French doors were thrown open on the billiards room and blues music spilled out into the garden. Poe was relieved to see Mad at the pool table lining up a shot. Thorin stood beside him waiting. Red and Dae were nowhere in sight.
Mad would know what to do.
Tightening his hold on Will, Poe went up the three steps to the stone patio and then stepped through the French doors.
His brothers looked over at him.
Thorin’s blond brow furrowed deeply.
Mad straightened, the pool shot forgotten. He looked from Poe to Willa and back to Poe. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
“I found her on the side of the road. Can you help her?” He sounded desperate and afraid and Poe was never desperate and afraid.
Mad set the pool cue on the table. “Who is she?”
Poe didn’t want to tell him. He wanted Mad to treat Willa as if she were anyone and not the one person who Red had said they should not entangle themselves with.
Because if Mad said no...
“Isn’t that Willa Locke?” Thorin asked.
Bloody hell.
“The psychic?” Mad grimaced. “The girl whose sister is dating Corvin?”
Poe started for the stairs. “Can you help her or not?”
Mad was the soldier. There were even wars named after him. And he’d spent the entirety of World War II as a doctor in a hospital in England.
“What was she doing on the side of the road?” Mad asked and trailed behind.
None of them were invoked, so they had to take the stairs by the power of their own two feet.
“I don’t know. I think she was coming to find me.”
“Awfully convenient,” Mad said. “Cassie’s letter said Corvin would bring chaos to our door and look, here’s a bloody, unconscious girl who was literally headed for our door.”
Poe grumbled. Mostly because Mad had a point. But what was he supposed to do? Send her away?
When he reached the top of the staircase, Willa’s brow furrowed and a moan escaped her. Her lips, usually puffy and pink, were drained of color and pursed tight with discomfort.
If this was a ruse, there was no way Willa had any part of it. Which meant she was a pawn. A victim.
Poe could turn a blind eye to Corvin’s doings, but not this.
Not this.
He chose the bedroom directly across from his. It remained empty most of the time, but the staff routinely cleaned and dusted and changed the bedding. He could still smell the lemony scent of the furniture polish hanging in the air.
He lay Willa carefully on the bed. “I need scissors,” he said, cursing the absence of his magic not for the first time that night.
Thorin went into the adjoining bathroom and returned with a pair.
Poe made quick work of Willa’s t-shirt, cutting it straight up the middle so he could see what they were dealing with. But as soon as he pulled the thin material away from her body he regretted it.
It was so much worse than he thought.
Bruises peppered her skin like inkblots. There was a nasty, raw bruise growing around her throat like someone had tried to strangle her. Another bruise circled her swollen, broken arm. And he didn’t need medical training to identify the wet sound of her breath was likely from a bro
ken rib that had pierced her lung.
Raw rage filled him.
How could anyone do this to someone like Will?
“What do we do?” he asked. He didn’t like this helpless feeling. He didn’t like the panic beating in his chest.
Poe looked at Mad.
Mad uncrossed his arms. “It’s been a while since I’ve treated anything like this.”
“Try. Please. I just need to get her comfortable for now. As soon as she wakes up, I’ll make a deal and her first wish will be for me to heal her.” He was trying to remain calm, trying to sound like a reasonable man. He suspected he was failing and Mad proved him right with a pointed arch of his brow.
“You think that’s wise, making a deal with someone associated with Corvin right now?” he said.
Poe gritted his teeth. “I don’t bloody well care what you think! She needs my help and I will not deny her it.”
“Always too stubborn for your own good.” Mad sighed and turned his attention to Willa. He ran his hands gently over her body and the action made Poe bristle.
He should have been quicker in the field. He should have made Willa say the words to invoke him as soon as he realized she was hurt.
Mad said, “Thorin get her boots off and prop up her legs. Poe, get a wet rag and clean off her face. Let’s make sure there aren’t injuries we can’t see.”
Poe took a relieved breath. “Thank you, brother.” The words did not come easily to him.
“Thank me when she’s awake.”
Chapter 8
POE
It had been two hours since Poe found Willa stumbling through the field. Mad assessed the damage and decided her injuries were not life-threatening. He set her arm in a sling and cleaned the wound on her lip.
“She just needs rest,” he’d said when he finished.
Now Poe was alone in the bedroom and Willa was still lying there unconscious and he felt like he was losing his fucking mind.
He wanted to know who had done this to her so he could murder them with his bare hands.
And then he had to ask himself why he even fucking cared.
He had no loyalty to Willa. He barely knew her.
But this pulsing rage in his chest said otherwise. And he didn’t like it one fucking bit.
Midlife Psychic (Blackwell Djinn Book 2) Page 4
