by L. A. Boruff
"I expect him to know exactly where I am," I say firmly. At least a small part of me is relying on him knowing so he'll leave Will and Hank alone. Those two don't deserve the punishment the current Witch-King brings down on people who work against him.
"Then you should know to get out of town," she points out. "Don't waste time sitting around. Pack your bags and get out."
"I heard this town used to be nice." I'm aware I'm making idle chitchat rather than progress, but if she's going to tell me anything, I need to get her to relax a little bit.
"It did. Now it's not. Get used to it or go away, James." Her voice cracks, and I know I'm starting to get through to her. They're fools if they think putting her behind the bar is a good idea. Delilah's problem has always been that she's too kind-hearted. She doesn't want to play by their rules, even if she tries to.
"Tell me where Will is?" I ask.
"Fine. If I do, will you get out of here?"
"That depends on what you tell me."
"You can't get involved," she reminds me.
"Alright, I promise not to get involved." The lie is thick on my tongue, but I have to say it. If not, she won't tell me. There's a chance she won't anyway, but I'm going to risk it.
"Mel said he came in here earlier and picked up a girl."
My heart nearly stops. "What kind of girl?"
"How should I know? I wasn't here." She shrugs.
"Delilah..."
"Mel said pretty and blonde."
Callie.
Heat rolls inside me, heating me from the center of my being, even though I haven't been out in the sun enough. "And what happened then?" I ask.
"Paul."
The name hangs between us, with all the knowledge that comes with it.
"Thank you, Delilah." I mean every word.
I turn to the door and prepare to walk away.
"You're not going to leave this alone, are you?" she says to my retreating back.
I still, then twist around to face her. "No, I'm not. But I won't tell anyone you helped."
She flashes me a weak smile, one I know means she hopes I won’t, but wouldn’t blame me if I tell. That's the world of the witches here. I should know, I lived in their community before I found Will and Hank.
But as frustrating as that is sometimes, it’s going to help me today. Because I know where the witches like to keep people when they torture them. And the little dance studio is down the street, close enough that I’ll hopefully reach them before anything too horrible can happen.
I leave the bar and jog down Main Street. A loud crackling sound assaults my ears, and I know what it is before I see it. Speeding up into a run, I spot the little flower shop and stop dead in my tracks.
Because the building I’m sure Will and Callie are in is standing in front of me, with flames licking out the window. Holy hell, they decided to kill him. He finally pushed them too far. No, Will couldn’t die by fire, but when the roof caves in, he’ll be done for.
And then there’s Callie...
I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit Hank's number as I run toward it.
"Hank, I need the fire truck," I say the moment he picks up.
"You can't use the firetruck whenever you want," he mumbles.
"How about when a building on Main Street is on fire?" I can't tear my eyes away from it.
"Then you need the firetruck." He sounds more alert now, and I'm grateful for it.
"See you in five?"
"It will take me a minute longer without you guys here." I hear him starting to move around the station, getting things ready to go.
"Alright. But I think Will and Callie are inside. I'm going in."
Silence meets my statement, probably Hank weighing up the pros and cons of me doing just that. I won't die from the fire, and he knows that, but it doesn't mean I can't be killed by the other problems fire brings. Like falling bricks and beams.
The same weaknesses as Will, even though we’re not the same.
"Fine, but be careful."
I hit the end-call button and take a deep breath, barely even noticing that Hank didn't ask how I know Will and Callie are inside. That's probably for the best. The other two don't know about my past, and I want to keep it that way.
Chapter Thirteen
Callie
Luxury screams from every inch of Esmeralda’s room, a bedroom easily the size of my first apartment. A huge four-poster bed with golden fabric spilling all around it occupies one side of the room. On the other side is a sitting area, a dressing area, huge windows, and an entryway into an impressive bathroom.
And yet, I can’t imagine the witch asked me here to admire her wealth. "Did you bring me here to trap me?"
She opens her dresser and throws clothes at me. "Dress first, ask questions later."
My mind spins, but I pull on the jeans and long green shirt. Even though it feels a little weird to not wear underwear and a bra, it sure as hell beats being naked.
"Better?" she asks, raising a brow.
Did she read my mind? Or is she just using common sense?
Freaking weird paranormal world...
I nod, trying not to give away my nervous thoughts. "So..."
"In my room, you can’t be detected, so I’ve given you a momentary sanctuary of sorts."
"Thank you," I say, even though I feel like I jumped from one fire to another.
Glancing at the luxurious room again, I realize for the first time that this witch must be someone important to the king and the witches. I need to figure out who she is and how dangerous my current situation is.
Because she might be the mother to the king’s child, but he doesn’t sound like he respects her. And she doesn’t exactly sound like she likes him. There’s more at play here than what I’d expect from a human relationship.
Now I need to be sure of who this woman is and what she wants. And the best way to do that is to act every bit the clueless human she expects me to be.
I whistle softly. "It looks like being a witch pays off."
She turns away from me and walks across the room before sitting at her dressing table and looking at herself in the mirror. "Everything has a price, dear. Learn that now. Some things cost you little, and some things cost you everything."
"But whatever you paid must have been worth it," I say, watching her closely.
She veils the emotions from her face, concealing her thoughts. "No. It wasn’t." Then she turns and looks at me. "And siding with Will...won’t be worth it either. Trust me."
I stand up a little straighter. "I can handle it."
Her head tilts slightly, and her expression gentles. For a minute, I study her. She has got to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She has long, dark hair braided down her back and flawless skin. Her face has the look of someone too beautiful to exist, and yet, she doesn’t have model good looks. More like something exotic and rare. Like a flower you only find once in a lifetime.
This flower has thorns.
Because as surprisingly pretty as she is, she also has a dangerous edge that’s impossible to ignore.
"It always amazes me," she says. "You humans live such short lives, and yet you never understand that it should be something precious. Not something you throw away."
"I’m not throwing my life away," I tell her. "I’m helping someone who deserves it."
She looks at her mirror, powders her face, and draws red lipstick across her lips. "Will has a good heart. Hell, he has a good body and the kind of face that haunts a woman as she tries to sleep. But he’s also a man who acts first and thinks second. Killing the golem was a mistake."
"The one the old witch made?"
She stiffens. "Old witch?"
I hesitate. "There was a woman the day the golem was destroyed. A woman with long silver hair."
A calculating look comes to her face. "Really?"
Maybe I should’ve kept my big mouth shut. "Yeah."
Her painted lips widen. "That’s Phoebe. A witch
that all fear. You should be afraid, girl, very afraid if you pissed her off."
My heart races. "So she’s the one that asked the king to have Will killed?"
She laughs. "The king won’t kill Will. He has plans for the fire mage. He will make certain he doesn’t involve himself in witch business again for a very long time."
I feel a measure of relief.
Then the woman rises and turns to me. "Human, how much do you know of our business?"
I get the feeling my response to her question is very important. "Only a little."
She nods. "Well, I’ll tell you this. There is a war coming to our world, and choosing the right side is very important."
"And what’s the right side?"
Again, there’s a flash of sadness that comes and goes in an instant. "The one that keeps you alive. Our side." Coming across the room, she stops in front of me. "But neither has a side for you, so hear me well. Stay out of this. It’s not a battle you’ll win. And even though Will and his friends fight us now, they’ll join us eventually. Everyone will. Or they’ll die. It’s that simple."
"The other side has no hope?"
She smiles, but it’s a sad smile. "They don’t have a champion. They don’t have an heir. Our side is the only one that matters."
And for some reason, I believe her. Or at least I believe that she sees the world this way.
"Things were different before," she says, her voice very soft. "Humans and witches co-existed. We used our powers, mostly for good. We had fun, then things changed."
I stare at her, confused. This one seems to be on the side of evil, but it kind of sounds like she doesn’t want to be.
She shakes herself. "But it doesn’t matter. Those times are gone. There’s no point wishing for what can never be."
"But what if—"
"There is no ‘what if,’ so onto the problem at hand. How do we get you out of this place alive?"
I stare at her. "You’re going to help me?"
She nods.
"Why?"
Her gaze runs over my face. "You remind me of someone."
"Who?" I ask, even more confused.
She looks away from me. "A ghost. You should be focused on the more significant information that I’m willing to save your life."
Her offer falls between us, lingering in the air like something powerful and important.
"You’ll help me. For a price?" I ask, already sure of the answer.
She smiles. "You’re clever. There’s always a price."
The thing is, I need her help, but no doubt a witch will ask me for something terrible.
I feel strangely vulnerable beneath her gaze. "What’s your price?"
She stiffens. "Usually my deals are a bit morbid. Deals that help the king. Deals that bring us power. But this deal will be different, no magic involved, just our words that we’ll honor our agreement."
I nod, holding my breath.
"I may ask for a favor in the future, and you will grant it."
Shit. "I won’t hurt anyone, kill anyone, or betray anyone." I couldn’t think of another caveat.
She laughs. "Agreed," she says and holds out her hand.
We shake, and I feel like the threads of destiny are changing, twisting around me in a way that leaves my head spinning. Threads of destiny? Where the hell did that idea come from?
"Now, listen carefully, there is a portal outside the gates of this castle. If you step through it, you’ll return to town and relative safety."
"How do I reach it without getting caught?"
She studies me. "Very carefully."
"That’s it?"
She laughs. "Not quite."
Moving away from me, she reaches beneath her nightstand and pulls out a little black bag and unwraps a chain tied around it.
She hisses a little, then tosses them onto her bed, moving back from them. "Wear the necklace and throw the salt in the bag at anyone who tries to stop you."
I raise a brow. "Salt?"
"We can work around it," she says. "But dark witches don’t like it. The element of surprise should give you some time."
"And the necklace?"
"It has rubies, sardonyx, and cat’s eye stones. The combination of the stones creates a very powerful protection spell against witches. We don’t like them. And the pain is worse for witches who use their powers to harm humans. Hurting you will hurt us. Since you’re just a human, few witches will even think you’re worth hurting."
"Thank you." I put the necklace on, the heaviness making me uncomfortable like there’s an itchy tingling under my skin.
She nods. "But if you get caught, I didn’t help you."
"You have my word I’ll keep my yapper shut."
From somewhere in the castle, a baby cries out. Every muscle in her body stiffens.
"I have to go," she says. "Remember, the second you leave my room, their alarms will go off again. Wearing the necklace, your location will be harder to pinpoint, but not impossible."
I nod. "Thanks again."
Then she hesitates and goes to the other side of her bed. An instant later, she pulls out my backpack.
"You left this in your cell."
I reach for it, but she doesn’t hold it out.
"I thought the book on golems was particularly interesting." Then she says more softly to herself, "I can’t believe she risked publishing the damn thing. Her choices are going to get her killed."
I take a step closer and reach for my bag, uneasy.
To my surprise, she hands it to me. "Be careful about leaving your things lying around. It would’ve been a shame had it fallen in the wrong hands."
The woman saunters to the door, then looks back. "Goodbye, Callie. I hope for your sake this is the last time we meet."
She slips from the room, and I’m left alone, contemplating what to do. The throne room is a few doors away. Where they’re going to be dragging Will. I can’t leave him behind, even if the woman said they won’t kill him.
So what can I do?
A crazy idea comes to me. Hurrying to the witch’s window, I look out. Sure enough, there’s a window ledge. I look down. If I fall from here, it’s going to hurt, and bad. But luckily for me, being a cat means that I’m not afraid of heights.
I can do this.
Taking a deep breath, I put my backpack on and step up onto the window ledge and cling to the edge, then inch away from the window. The air outside is crisp and cool. The slight breeze that pulls at my clothes makes me a little nervous, but I keep moving, inching along on my bare feet. I have to resist the urge to scratch under the necklace. For some reason, it burns a little.
When I come to the next window, sweat trickles down my spine. Taking a deep breath, I continue inching across the window opening. The black bag in my hand feels oddly heavy and significant. All I can hope is that the salt works as well as Esmeralda said.
I’m contemplating if I got a good bargain with the witch or not when a meaty hand closes around my ankle. There’s enough time to look down at it in shock. When the person yanks, I go flying forward, over the edge.
Screaming like a banshee, I’m hanging by the grip on my ankle, staring down at my death, praying that my last moment isn’t me screaming and peeing on myself. My arms wave in circles like a bird too stupid to fly, but I neither fall nor find solid ground.
"You’re the human everyone is looking for," a gruff voice says from above me.
I whimper, unable to form words.
Suddenly I’m hauled through the window and dumped onto the floor of the bedroom. I’m shaking and sweating in terror. I may not be falling to my death, but I’m still in trouble. I look up at my next obstacle.
A big thug of a man is glaring down at me. "Running from the king is dumb."
"Staying would’ve been dumb too," I say, my voice trembling.
He shakes his head. "Too bad for you you’re some wimpy human. You never stood a chance."
When he turns toward the door, I pull open the litt
le black bag and grab a pinch of the salt. Standing on legs that shake, I follow him.
He whirls around, his face curled into a nasty frown. "What the fuck—?"
I throw the salt.
A girlish scream escapes his lips. He scratches at his face, shooting backward. I watch in shock as he hits a little table with a lamp on it, tips the table, and falls back himself. His eyes widen, and he strikes his head on the side of a bed.
Everything goes silent. His limp body lies awkwardly on the floor.
"Holy shit!" I say, looking at the little bag of salt.
Did I just kill someone?
I inch forward and give a silent prayer of thanks when I see his chest rising and falling. It was pretty satisfying to see the big guy screaming and panicked, but I wasn’t ready to be a murderer.
Going out the window, I keep going until I reach the window to the room that I know is the throne room. Once there I hesitate, wondering what the heck to do now. Which is when I hear the voice.
"Always so insolent, even on your knees."
"Better insolent than a spineless fucker like your little minions," Will says.
A minute later, I hear the sound of flesh being hit.
"Fuck!" Will yells. "They’re not very smart, but they sure as hell know how to hit."
"Enough!" the King shouts. "You were a fool to get involved with us."
"You think I don’t know that?"
"So why did you do it, Will? I thought you were smarter than that."
"I guess I’m not."
The king sighs, loudly. "Your actions have consequences. And yet, I am not a foolish man. There is a place in my kingdom for a man with your skills."
"I’m not on your side."
"You’re not on any side." The king sounds amused. "Which means that I do not doubt where your allegiances will lie one day."
No one speaks for a long time. "What do you want?"
"To be done with this waste of time. And to make my message clear. You are not to involve yourself in our power siphoning again." He pauses. "And for your foolish actions, your cost must be clear."
"I’m not going to suck your dick."
There’s another sound of flesh being hit.
"Or take it in the ass," Will says, his breathing rough.
