Strange Brew

by Angela Colsin

  Learning that mages marked their students in such a way made Troy's assessment seem completely valid, and Aislinn returned, “Then I was right, Cindy and Lisa weren't trying to kill me. They'd just set it up so you could resurrect me before I died from that hex, knowing all of this would happen.”

  Troy growled angrily, a sound that matched the way Aislinn felt, though her anger didn't dull her curiosity in asking, “But why would his dead apprentice want to unlock his tome for a coven of witches?”

  “No idea,” he muttered, turning his gaze back to the item in question. “There's also no telling who'll come after it once word gets out. We'll have to notify The Arcane Assembly and hand it over to them before it causes any trouble.”

  The Arcane Assembly was the mage's Order in the mortal world, and they'd definitely want to know about this tome. Aislinn wasn't versed in mage ethics, but she did know that mixing magic was never a good idea. So if any witch or warlock attempted to use the book, it could cause a problem of which even The Crucible would take notice.

  The Esbat would need an alert on The Trine's involvement as well, meaning she and Troy had their work cut out for them.

  “Come on,” Aislinn started, “let's take this tome to the manor and call my mom.”

  Ready to grab the book and go, she paused when a woman's voice announced from the entryway of the chamber, “Sorry, but we can't let you do that.”

  Simultaneously, Aislinn and Troy looked up to see Derick stepping through the door with both of his hands up and an annoyed expression on his face. Behind him was none other than Cindy and Lisa—and the latter was holding Aislinn's father at gunpoint.

  They're using him as leverage, just like Annika warned. Furthermore, their appearance worried Aislinn for Troy's cousins. The twins had been keeping an eye out on her father that evening, and there was no telling how the witches might've slipped by them. She just hoped any potential damage done was only temporary, and watched as Derick stepped to the left of the door to allow the sisters inside.

  Lisa moved right with a steady aim in his direction, and between them, Cindy took up the doorway itself without blocking her sister's shot.

  “Back away from the tome,” she directed.

  Troy growled, his eyes turning yellow, but Derick quickly warned them, “Don't, they've got silver bullets!”

  “That's right,” Lisa smirked. “So either hand it over, or I'll start shooting.”

  Threat of silver or not, Aislinn couldn't contain her rage. The sister witches were already on her blacklist, and seeing them holding her father at gunpoint pushed her right over the edge.

  A wave of dizziness suddenly overcame her, one she could've only described as a head rush. Almost instantly, her canines sharpened and claws formed on her fingers with the strongest sense of aggression she'd ever experienced coming to the very forefront of her mind. It was murderous and violent—and she focused it on the sisters.

  Ready to impulsively dart off and attack them, Troy grasped her upper arms and pulled her back. She could even hear his voice in her mind urging her to stop—a strange sensation, though not at all unpleasant.

  But she had only one thing to say in response.

  -Let me go, Troy! I'm gonna rip them apart!-

  -No, Aislinn, not yet. But keep struggling with me, make it look like you've lost it.-

  Like Aislinn, Troy was a split second away from turning ferine. But he resisted changing for two reasons, the first being that his mate's transformation offered the advantage of telepathy. Even if the witches were aware of that ferine ability, they'd have no idea what Troy and Aislinn were saying to each other now.

  Additionally, the scent of fear was coming off of the sisters in a thick wave, proving they were nervous despite their cocky attitudes.

  Troy just needed the right moment to act on it.

  Continuing to struggle as directed, Aislinn asked, -What for?-

  -Just trust me.-

  To convince their foes that his mate was uncontrollable, Troy tugged her in to clasp both arms around her chest. Aislinn growled angrily in response, causing Lisa to grumble and aim her weapon in their direction instead of Derick's—just like Troy wanted.

  “Are you trying to get shot?” she demanded.

  “Aislinn's a new ferine and can't control herself,” Troy snarled, “so aim that fucking thing somewhere else!”

  “Not a chance,” the blonde retorted. “Now step away from the tome, and take her with you.”

  Hoping to get as much information as possible first, he demanded, “Why? So you can use it for something fucked up?”

  “No, so I won't have to blow your fucking head off. See, I hear killing one werewolf will also kill it's mate.” Her aim was unwavering as she added, “I could test that theory.”

  “No!” Derick interjected quickly. “Just let them step away and I'll grab the tome and bring it to you. No one has to die!”

  While the warlock was trying to convince the sisters, Troy sent another message to Aislinn.

  -When I let go of you, take cover and wait for my signal.-

  Aislinn groaned, but agreed as Cindy commented, “You know, they are lined up nice and pretty. One shot could take them both out. No muss, no fuss.”

  “It is kind of perfect,” Lisa returned smugly. “But we don't have time for—”

  In the middle of her statement, Troy released Aislinn, and she immediately ducked down to the floor behind the table as he'd asked. The movement momentarily confused Lisa, who proved to be more nervous than she'd let on by automatically pulling the trigger.

  But with Aislinn out of harm's way, Troy had already darted to the side and around the table, turning ferine in the process. Lisa tried to follow him with her gun, but was unable to keep up before he arrived at her left side.

  Cindy screamed for her to look out, lifting an arm to knock him away with magic—but not soon enough. Without hesitation, Troy snatched Lisa's arm in one hand to prevent her from aiming while quickly lashing out to rip his sharpened claws through her throat with the other. Immediately, blood spattered everywhere, her gun going off a second time, sending another bullet into the far wall.

  The witch stumbled, quickly clasping her neck in a futile attempt to stop the flow of crimson seeping from the deep lesions left in her flesh.

  But her impending demise didn't stop Cindy's defensive magic, and as if a large fist had just slammed into his gut, Troy found himself flying through the air and hitting a wall hard enough to destroy several shelves and vials alike. The impact sent shards of glass everywhere, though the various cuts they caused hardly phased him.

  Ignoring the injuries, he looked up in time to watch Lisa's body slump onto the floor. Simultaneously, her gun tumbled out of her hand and bounced once, landing close to the table where Aislinn had taken cover.

  -Aislinn, Lisa's dead and Cindy's distracted!-

  While sending his message, Derick went for the weapon, and their remaining enemy turned toward him, screaming in anger over her sister's fate as she waved her hand a second time. The warlock seemed to expect the retaliation, however, because he held up his left arm and deflected the invisible blow with his own magic, still heading for the gun.

  That's when Aislinn emerged from cover, jumping onto the table with ease before pushing herself through the air and directly toward Cindy. The witch was so preoccupied trying to overwhelm Derick that she didn't notice the ferine until the last moment.

  Aislinn slammed into the witch with a physical force no human could've mustered, knocking her through the door where Troy couldn't see. Still, there was no mistaking what was happening when Cindy's screams suddenly stopped—punctuated by a feminine growl.

  His mate had snapped the witch's neck.

  The stark silence that ensued was relieving—their fight was over, and no one was hurt. There were still questions that hadn't been answered, but if it meant they could get the tome to its proper owners, and no longer have to worry with The Trine or its lackeys, Troy welcomed a lit
tle mystery.

  As he was pulling himself away from the wall, Derick stood with Lisa's weapon, asking, “You two okay?”

  Still ferine, Troy offered a simple nod of confirmation. The gashes in his flesh weren't enough to cause much discomfort, and he was more concerned with Aislinn's state of being. But he paused in sending her the question when the warlock caught his attention by lifting the tome from the table, followed by turning to the door.

  “I'm truly sorry about this,” Derick remarked softly, lifting the gun.

  Then he pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 33

  Though Aislinn had never taken a life, she didn't feel one bit sorry for ending Cindy's.

  It was surprising just how easy snapping the witch's neck was, but knowing Cindy would've killed them if given the chance lent a strong sense of justification to the action that wiped away any remorse she may have otherwise experienced.

  Instead, all Aislinn could think was the bitch had it coming.

  Yet there was no time to consider her retribution in depth before a gunshot sounded without any warning. Jerking her gaze toward the door, Aislinn turned and rushed back inside the chamber to find the man she loved collapsing against a wall, blood pouring from his chest.

  -No!-

  With an agonized roar escaping her lips, she immediately went to Troy's side. Fear gripped her heart in an icy hold so tight it left no room to worry for Derick, who quickly took his chance to vacate the cellar—tome in hand.

  But her focus was entirely on her mate. Hoisting him up to rest his head against her shoulder, Aislinn pressed a palm over his wound and applied pressure, whimpering when blood dribbled over the backs of her fingers. She'd never been so frightened in her entire life, scarcely able to believe the three words Troy sent no matter how much she desperately needed to.

  -I'm okay, Aislinn.-

  -But it's a silver bullet in the chest!-

  Just thinking about it had tears brimming in her yellow eyes, and the fact that she had no idea what to do for him only worsened her anxiety.

  Yet, in the midst of her panic, he qualified, -The bullet went through, didn't hit my heart. Hurts like hell, but I'll live.-

  It was easy to see the integral organ was intact, otherwise they wouldn't be having this conversation. The thought eased her worries just enough for her to consider that a werewolf's reaction to silver was likely similar to a lupine's—they could touch it, but not maintain contact without injury, and wounds made with the metal were more serious.

  So Troy probably wouldn't recover as swiftly as usual, but he wouldn't necessarily die either.

  Still, and regardless of that rationality, Aislinn couldn't stop apologizing, finally rasping against his ear, “I love you, Troy.”

  In the process, she learned just how hard it was to actually speak while ferine, and sent the message telepathically instead. -I should've said it before, but I love you so much, so please don't be lying!-

  With a shaky breath, he clutched her hand against his chest and pressed a meaningful kiss against her cheek. -I'm not, baby, just breathe.-

  She was so shaken up that it took some effort to even remember how, finding Troy's kiss to be especially heartening in her moment of panic. -I can't lose you, ever. You are the love of my life, Troy Ashland.-

  She did her best to convey as much emotion in her message as possible, hating herself for not telling him sooner. But Aislinn knew beyond a doubt that he really would be okay when he arrogantly grinned and replied, -Told ya I'd make it come true, didn't I?-

  Finally, a smile curved her mouth. She wanted to kiss him for that, but with her panic fading, other concerns were coming to mind—such as her father's betrayal. Derick had just taken the tome, meaning he'd likely been working with The Trine all along, and the fact that he was a medium also made him a prime suspect in setting everything up.

  The thoughts had her rage resurfacing in an instant, just as Troy directed, -Go after Derick. We can't let him get away.-

  -No! I'm not leaving you here!-

  On a guttural tone, he growled, “Be right behind you.”

  Already, Troy was getting to his feet, and she hesitated in case he needed her help. Though, when he saw her waiting, he urged, “Go!”

  His urgent tone got Aislinn moving, and she exited the cellar with haste. Troy was right after all, and Derick had already gotten more of a head start than he needed. But the warlock's scent was still strong, and she was downwind, helping her to track through the gusting breeze.

  Aislinn made quick time moving across the field surrounding the servant's quarters and into the trees. As a human, she would've chanted a quick spell to temporarily enhance her vision in the dark, but such a thing wasn't needed now. Instead, she employed the same tactic she'd used with Troy during their playful chases, and chanted for stealth. After only a few moments, the leaves and grass grew silent beneath her footfalls, and the low lying branches she sporadically bumped into hardly made a sound swaying behind her.

  The trees were fairly dense for several meters as well, and Derick's scent was leading through them and up to a small clearing where there wasn't a soul in sight.

  The closer Aislinn got, the more she slowed down in wariness of the open space and what might be waiting there, eventually ducking by a large tree for cover. Quietly, she listened to see what could be heard above the branches caught in the wind. It wasn't raining yet, and for several moments, all was quiet aside from the sporadic thunder—until a woman's voice echoed from the distance.

  “Come out, Aislinn, I'm not looking to fight.”

  The words seemed to reverberate all around the woods, offering no direction to pin down a source—someone was magically throwing their voice to keep their location hidden. Glancing about the trees, Aislinn hoped to spy movement, but the area remained disappointingly motionless.

  Still ferine, she called back with a snarl, “You … first.”

  “I will,” the voice promised. “You deserve an explanation, after all. But you have to get yourself under control so we can have a rational discussion.”

  “Don't … know how,” Aislinn returned in all honesty. She'd never been ferine before, and had no clue how to reverse it without Troy's assistance.

  “I can wait for you to figure it out, and I'm certain it won't be difficult,” the woman answered casually, suggesting she wasn't going anywhere.

  Under normal conditions, Aislinn might've agreed about the difficulty. But considering her mate had been shot, and she was none too happy with Derick, tapping down her anger enough to figure out how to change her form was a challenge.

  -You can do it, Aislinn. Relax, it'll come to you.-

  Her mate's sudden message was surprising when she hadn't heard or even scented him. Then again, his voice seemed faint, as if he wasn't exactly nearby. -Troy? Where are you?-

  -Close enough to hear her.-

  If so, he'd catch up quickly. After their treks through the woods, Aislinn knew better than to question Troy's speed, and just hearing his thoughts was helpful in soothing her worries that he was too badly injured to keep up—or perhaps it was his heightened tolerance to pain that let him move so quickly.

  But she pushed those concerns away by promising to give him more attention than he could stand later, and finally felt her shape beginning to alter—one of the oddest sensations she'd ever experienced. Her fangs and claws dulled as her nightgown loosened, and she even felt shorter. Additionally, the aggression cleared from her mind, allowing for more rational thought.

  The moment she'd returned to normal, she slowly left the cover of trees to step out into the clearing, asking, -Troy, are you still there?-

  -I am, and I see you.-

  Comforted by the knowledge, Aislinn called aloud, “Okay, I've changed, and I'm here. So come out and tell me where Derick is.”

  “Where is your mate?” the voice asked first.

  “Derick shot him with a silver bullet,” she growled just as Troy emerged into the clearing, his muscu
lar, ferine form even more savage to behold with the blood marring his chest.

  The mere sight of it angered her enough to add, “So I have some very personal business with him.”

  Silence ensued her claim, making Aislinn think the explanation had changed the witch's mind about showing herself. But then, shuffling sounded in the brush to their left, and turning in that direction, they saw a middle-aged woman entering the clearing.

  She had short, silvery blonde hair and wore an outfit that was too businesslike for a nature hike. Furthermore, in her hand was a smooth, clear stone that resembled quartz, but possessed a dim glow, and Aislinn didn't have to wonder at its function when the woman explained, “Your father isn't here any longer. This transit stone has delivered him to safety, and there's enough power left in it for me to use, should the need arise.”

  Hearing of Derick's departure caused Aislinn's ire to spike, making it next to impossible to restrain herself from impulsively attacking the witch and forcing her to use the stone. After all, she wanted to learn where Derick was hiding if possible, and was grateful when Troy distracted her by unexpectedly growling the witch's name aloud.

  “Sally Gordon.”

  The blonde nodded without hesitation. “I posed as a reporter by that name, yes. But Aislinn knows me as Estelle Abbott, High Priestess of The Trine.”

  Aislinn's brows shot up in surprise. She'd never met Estelle face to face, though her shock over the woman's identity quickly dulled when she realized that Estelle knew Derick, exclaiming, “Then that asshole was working with you!”

  The discovery was enough to make her sick—or turn ferine again—and Aislinn stayed close to Troy, winding an arm around his back as Estelle explained, “He is, has been for a long time. You should also know that it was never his intention to permanently harm Troy. He'd hoped Cindy and Lisa would take the fall, and the two of you could remain on friendly terms. He even sent you an invitation to join us, hoping it might help with a reunion.”