Witch Hunter

by Shannon Curtis

  “He’d get angry, and we’d argue.” Her lips twisted in an ironic smile. “I used to get hurt a lot by accident,” she said. “He’d push, and I’d fall into that table, or smack into that door...you know, by accident. He didn’t mean for me to end up smashing into the table and knocking myself out...it was an accident.”

  She swallowed, and Dave moved closer. “How did you get out of there?” he asked quietly.

  She blinked back the burn in her eyes. She was not going to cry. Not over Marty. Hell, no. She’d wasted enough tears on that bastard.

  “I don’t quite know what set it off in my mind, but I finally figured out the reason he’d call me stupid, or useless, or powerless, or ugly...wasn’t because I was actually those things, but because he was afraid of losing me.” She held up a finger. “Oh, and when he threw me against a mirror. That may have had something to do with it, too.” She still remembered the earsplitting crash, the pain as her head smacked the wall, her back broke the glass, the cuts as she fell to the floor amid the shattered pieces, all showing a warped reflection of her.

  Dave sat there for a moment, and she didn’t know if he was stunned, or disgusted, or trying to think up an excuse to run down the road, hop on his bike and ride as far away as he could get.

  “I left—I ran out the door, with my shoes in my hand, and I ran.”

  Dave tilted his head. “That’s why you make weapons.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. A realization.

  She nodded. She’d made a promise to herself, all those years ago, that she would never be in a position of weakness with a man—or a witch—ever again. “Yeah. I spent two years learning how to defend myself, how to protect myself... How to shore up my mental shields so that nobody could ever drain me dry again, and then I found Serenity Cove.”

  “With a null community,” Dave finished for her. Sully nodded.

  “Yep. You can’t scry yourself up a witch if she’s surrounded by nulls.”

  “But—” Dave indicated with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of her cottage “—you brought your coven’s books with you. That means your coven can’t access their knowledge base. Why?”

  Sully grimaced at the memory. “Marty was so damaged by his father, and was always wanting to prove him wrong—constantly. But he just wasn’t that strong a witch. So he used his skinshifting abilities to pass himself off as me, and access our archive.”

  Dave gaped. “No,” he said in horror.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “I found him before he could find the spell he was looking for. There was a fight—and like I said, his talents as a witch weren’t as strong as others.”

  She’d kicked his ass, and protected her coven in the process.

  Dave reached for her, his movement slow, as though giving her time to withdraw, or rebuff his touch. She did neither. He cupped her cheek.

  “You are amazing, you know that?” he whispered. She closed her eyes, letting herself sense his emotions. The warmth of wonder and admiration. Sorrow and sadness. Anger—but not at her. No. It was tinged with a strong sense of protection. He pulled her closer. “You are the strongest person I know,” he whispered against her lips, and kissed her.

  She leaned into him, giving herself up to the kiss. His lips were gentle, tender and exactly what she needed from him right now.

  The sound of car engines starting interrupted them, and they hunkered low as the sheriff and his deputies drove slowly down the street. Sully looked back at her house. Yellow crime scene tape was draped across her veranda and across her door.

  Dave looked at her over her shoulder. “Let’s go get you your books. Then you can tell me why you think your ex is killing nulls.”

  Chapter 19

  Dave looked at the array of books strewn across the bed in Sully’s motel room. She’d been very methodical in her approach at the house, and had selected volumes quickly. Then she’d performed a transfer spell that had removed the archive from her shelves to a place he didn’t know where, and wasn’t about to ask.

  At which time she’d grabbed some personal items, including a change of clothes and weapons that the deputies hadn’t found in their search. Getting the load home on the bike had been a minor miracle. They’d spent the hours since combing through the books. His stomach grumbled. He glanced at his watch. They’d missed lunch. And breakfast. Oh, and dinner the night before.

  “I think we need a break.” He reached for one of the books. So much...age. He wrinkled his nose at the slightly musty smell. Sort of like old people’s stink.

  “I think we’ve been approaching this from the wrong angle,” Sully said as she quickly flicked through some pages. “We know that nulls void any of the natural elements of a shadow breed—werewolves can’t shift, vamps can’t fang out, witches can’t perform their spells...” she said, her hand rolling as she went through the litany. “But this witch has been able to work magic—when no witch working with the natural order can do so.”

  He nodded. He knew the limitations around nulls, had experienced it personally since arriving in Serenity Cove. That void made him feel almost naked. “I admit, it’s one thing that’s been driving me crazy, trying to figure out how he’s been able to do the spells, bump me out of the visions, etc. I mean, how can a skinshifter even keep his facade around nulls?”

  “Especially a skinshifter with limited natural ability,” Sully stated. “I think he’s drawn on unnatural elements.”

  Dave frowned. He’d seen the skinshifter carve into flesh and consume blood. “Do you mean blood magic?” Blood magic was a slightly more potent form of magic, and a witch had to be very careful—if their blood supply was killed in the process, it drew the wrath of the Ancestors, and a quick and painful trip to the Other Realm, courtesy of yours truly.

  Sully shook her head. “No. From what I saw, he kills his victim, and then consumes their blood. I think he’s using death magic.”

  Dave stilled. Oh. Hell. No wonder the Ancestors had called on him.

  “The dark arts.” It was so obvious, and yet, so damn reckless. Only those on a power thirst used death magic, better known as black magic, and it always—always—ended badly. Did this witch not realize that he would eventually pay for his sins? Either in this world or the next... Black magic had a kick to it. As long as you served the dark arts, it served you. One wrong step, though, and it could consume you. Hell into perpetuity. He’d prefer facing down the Ancestors in the Other Realm, thank you very much.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t see it,” she murmured, then chewed her lip—look away from her lips—before finally lifting her gaze to meet his. He whipped his gaze from her pretty, pouty mouth to her eyes. “Marty used to say that he wanted to find his happy place. When I asked him where that was, he said it was any place where he was the strongest witch—especially stronger than his father.”

  She shrugged. “I used to think this was a hypothetical what-if kind of conversation, and I’d say to him that even the strongest witch is vulnerable to nulls. He wanted to find a way to be powerful, despite the nulls.” She held her hands up in a helpless gesture. “I never thought there was a way to counteract that.”

  Dave frowned as he flicked through the pages of the book. “You think he found a way to void the null effect.” The idea was so extreme, so ludicrous, it was chilling that it might be true. The kind of “sure thing” you bet with a drunk at the bar and then laugh yourself silly as he tried to count out the logic on his fingers. Dave shook his head as he turned the page. He might need a beer or six for this. He glanced down at the page, then froze.

  The X symbol was drawn on the side of the page, along with a spell written in the Old Language. Right there, in plain Ancestors-speak.

  “Sully.”

  She looked up at the tone in his voice, then leaned over to look at the page.

  “Oh,
my God. You found it.”

  “I need to translate this,” he muttered, reaching for the notepad and pen on the table by the bed.

  She shuffled around next to him, her head close as he hastily scribbled. Her scent, rose, clove and vanilla, teased at him.

  “No, wait,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. “That’s not liberation,” she said, gesturing to the symbol. “That’s sacrifice.” He frowned, then realized she was right. He hastily crossed out the word and corrected, and then went through the rest of the spell, forcing himself to ignore that teasing, tempting scent.

  It took a few minutes, but he finally finished the translation. He showed her the notepad. “Do you agree?”

  She scanned the spellbook, and then the translation, line for line, then finally nodded. “Yep.”

  They both sat there for a moment, staring at the translated spell. “Holy crap,” Dave finally murmured in awe. It was—it was—hell, he wasn’t quite sure what it was. His brain was having trouble computing it.

  “Yep,” Sully breathed.

  “The Gift,” Dave said, his lips tightening. The marking the witch carved on the inner wrist of his victims—the pulse point—was a symbol used by the Ancients, the ones who predated the Ancestors. The symbol, directly translated, meant gift. This spell, though, added some further meaning. A transformative gift, a connection, with the addition of unification.

  “He’s tying the elements of the null blood—pureblood—to his through the unification spell,” Sully said.

  Dave nodded. “He’s not fighting the null effect, he’s accepting it. That enables him to control the effect.”

  “Like when he bumps you out of the vision,” Sully said, and Dave nodded. This was—this was incredible. Son of a bitch.

  “So he uses their sacrifice under the guise of a gift, receiving the qualities and transforming it to become a part of a new...him.” Dave met Sully’s troubled gaze. “This means that he’s warping his magic with a null effect. When others come near him, he nullifies their power and uses it to boost his own.” His brow dipped. “An alpha elder.” Like elders needed an extra creep-factor. His own mother would love this.

  Sully shook her head slowly. “It’s...it’s ingenious.”

  “It’s dangerous,” Dave said. “He can effectively rob supernaturals of their power and convert it to his own, thus becoming the most powerful creature on earth.” He frowned as he glanced down at some markings at the bottom of the page. What...what was that?

  “But it’s only temporary,” Sully surmised, reading through the spell. Dave leaned closer to eye the markings, then counted them. Nine. Ni—ine. Three groups of—realization hit him.

  “Holy crap.”

  “What?”

  “If I’m correct, the effects can become permanent under certain conditions...” The blood chilled in his veins as he absorbed the meaning of the text.

  “What conditions?” Sully frowned as she eyed the page, trying to find the clause.

  “Sacrifices,” he said, tapping his finger on the markings.

  Sully nodded. “Yeah, well, we kind of figured that. He kills for the blood.”

  Dave shook his head. “No, he has killed six people so far. There are nine markings here.”

  “The law of three,” she whispered, her eyes widening in realization. “Three groups of three—a threefold blood sacrifice.”

  He then pointed to the circle at the top of the page. “And a celestial event.”

  He glanced at his watch. When was the next celest—

  “The harvest moon,” Sully gasped.

  Dave closed his eyes briefly. The witch was going after three more purebloods.

  This year the harvest moon coincided with the fall equinox. With the day and night being of equal hours, the full moon would rise the closest after sunset, effectively the longest moonshine of the year. A natural phenomenon on steroids. Sheesh.

  “So if he completes the blood harvest by harvest moon, he keeps his powers forever.” Sully bit her lip.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “This is massive. We have to do something,” she said hastily reaching for the book. “Does this mention anything about a counterspell? There has to be a counterspell—right?” She eyed him hopefully.

  Dave shrugged, incredulous. “I didn’t even know this spell was possible until two minutes ago. I have no idea about a counterspell.”

  “We have to do something. This means he’s got to kill three more nulls, by moonrise in two days’ time.”

  She started flicking through the book, her movements gaining speed. He tugged over another book and started scanning the pages. “Maybe we should—”

  Her murmurs interrupted him, and he glanced over at her. Her eyes were closed, fingers splayed as she tried to encompass all of the books on the bed in her...discovery spell. Damn, she was good.

  She growled in frustration, her fingers clenching when her spell turned up nothing.

  Okay, so mostly good. Nobody was perfect, and you could only discover something if there was something to discover.

  Her eyes opened, and he was struck by the panic he saw there.

  “What are we going to do? I can’t find a reversal.”

  He smiled. “We do what I do best.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Improvise.”

  * * *

  “Please, we need to talk,” Sully implored. Jacob stared down at her, his brown eyes dark with devastation. His gaze flicked to Dave standing behind her, then back to her.

  “Sully, now’s not a good—”

  “I know.” She swallowed. “God, I know. If it wasn’t absolutely necessary, I would never come near you and your family ever again.” Tears filled her eyes as that treacherous guilt ate at her like a gutful of chilies.

  His expression gentled. “Sully, it’s not your fault.” He lifted his gaze to meet Dave’s over her head. “It’s not her fault.”

  Dave nodded, and she felt him place his hand on her bare shoulder. “I know. But you need to hear us out.”

  Jacob glanced over his shoulder, then stepped out onto the veranda of his parents’ home. “I can give you five minutes,” he said in a low voice. He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and leaned against the front wall of the house.

  Sully nodded. She’d take whatever she could get, and be super appreciative of it. She turned to Dave, who pulled a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and he gave her a reassuring nod. She turned back to Jacob, unfolding the piece of paper. Okay. Deep breath. She could admit that she’d lied, that she’d pretended to be someone she wasn’t, that she was, in fact, a dreaded witch implanting herself secretly into the null community to hide her own ass from a psychotic ex. She hated what she was about to do, and was dreading Jacob’s reaction. And his mother’s. And everyone else she knew. Deep breath.

  “We think we know why someone is killing nu—” she halted, “your family and friends.” Nulls was a generic word, a catchall for the individuals she loved and mourned, and whom Jacob loved even more fiercely. But this was now very, very personal. For everyone.

  Jacob watched her. “I’m listening.”

  She held out the piece of paper to him, and it fluttered in her trembling fingers. She could do this. She wasn’t going to hide anymore. These people deserved more. They deserved better. And they’d lost far more than her peace of mind and comfort zone.

  “He’s carving this into them,” she whispered.

  Jacob glanced down at the symbol Dave had drawn on the paper. His lips tightened when he recognized the graphic. “I know. I saw it on my sister, on my father,” he said roughly.

  “He’s carving this on them to steal the null restraint for the supernatural.”

  Jacob’s gaze flicked up to meet hers. “Say wha
t?”

  “The man doing this—” she took a deep breath “—he’s a witch. This symbol allows him to—”

  She halted when she realized she’d be going into horrifically gory detail to him about Jenny’s and his father’s deaths.

  “It allows him to use the null effect to cancel out any supernaturals around him,” she said the words in a rush.

  Jacob frowned. “I don’t understand. If he’s a witch, it doesn’t help him.”

  “He’s figured out a bypass,” Dave said from behind her.

  “How?”

  Sully hesitated.

  “He draws on the blood of his victims,” Dave stated, and Sully sucked in a breath. His words gave an adequate description without sharing too much more. “He’s figured out a spell that can help him absorb the effect without being affected by it.”

  Jacob frowned, shaking his head faintly. “How do you know this?”

  Sully swallowed, then lifted her chin. “Be—because I’m a witch,” she said in a whisper.

  Jacob stilled. His gaze flicked between her and Dave, and back again. “Say what?”

  “I’m a...witch,” she finished in a hushed voice.

  “A witch.”

  “Yes, a witch.”

  Jacob shook his head. “I don’t believe it. You’ve been here for years, and you never—”

  “I make remedies,” she interrupted. “I know how to do that because I’m a witch, and I’m a student of nature.”

  “You make teas,” Jacob argued. “Ointments. Like a doctor. Or a naturopath. That doesn’t mean you’re a witch.”

  Sully’s mouth opened. She’d hidden the truth for so long, and it had taken much effort to come clean. She had expected yelling. Rebukes. Anger, betrayal. She hadn’t expected not to be believed.

  “Uh...” She glanced over at Dave. He shrugged his broad shoulders, a don’t-ask-me look on his face.