Bear My Soul: (Arcane Affairs Agency)

by Sophia Barron

  Michaela took a hard look around the clearing, paying careful attention to the plants in sight. Actually, his plan was doable. If she could find some kind of small, round container. “Do you have a cup or a tin of mints? And some water?”

  Devlin scrounged around in the center console and pulled out a plastic ice-breakers container.

  “Perfect.” Michaela snapped up the offering, dumped the contents into the built in cup holder and reached for the door. Devlin’s hand moved so fast it blurred in her vision before stopping her just before she pulled the latch.

  “Wait. Let me make sure it’s safe, alright?”

  Michaela nodded and tugged gently against his iron grip. Testing. He immediately released her, then slammed his door open and proceeded to scout the area. Michaela couldn’t take her eyes off him as he methodically searched the clearing and tested the cabin door. It felt like ages before he returned to the sedan and pulled her door open with a grin.

  “Let me know what else you need and we’ll get this figured out.”

  She rattled off a list of supplies: water, a pine needle, a few handfuls of local grass and dirt. Before she could start gathering her focus Devlin was gone and back with everything she’d requested. Her stomach knotted at the thought of doing magic in front of him. He must have sensed her nerves because his strong hands gently eased the knots out of her shoulders. That subtle release of tension was enough to let her focus, send tendrils of her magic into the sliver of wood floating on the water.

  The wooden needle spun faster and faster until it blurred. Then it stopped dead in the water, leaving tiny ripples in its wake. A wall of air slammed into her and the cursed amulets scattered around the cabin and the clearing flared bright as stars. Michaela blinked spots out of her eyes and breathed deep to calm the trembling that had consumed her. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d have been convinced that was an explosion of some sort. But there was no boom. Just the sparks of light and that overwhelming air pressure that faded as fast as it hit her.

  A quick glance at Devlin convinced her he was just as concerned with the noiseless ‘boom’ as she was. “What the heck was that?” His growl echoed oddly through the trees.

  “I think…” Michaela sighed and took a moment to examine the nearest amulet to confirm. Where before it had pulsed with magic, and glowed bright in the early morning sun, now the stone was dark and lifeless to her human and magic sight. “My magic has a mind of its own. It must have… blown out the spells so my compass would work better. Maybe.”

  She hated the hesitant tremor in her voice, and the thought of her magic having that big of an unintended consequence rocked her to her very core.

  “You sure that was your doing?” Devlin waved at the clearing dotted with now-dark stones. “It seems … unlikely.” He sniffed, and Michaela could practically see the thoughts spinning in his head as he used every sense to look for some other cause. She could see the hairs on his arms stand upright. “I think it might have been a trap. And using magic sprung it. Maybe someone wants to scare you away?”

  “Maybe. I don’t scare that easy though.” Or at least, I hope I don’t.

  With the clearing empty of magic other than the compass she’d improvised, the needle pointed dead straight through the forest. Michaela spied the barest hint of a trail between two tall oak trees. Devlin’s calm, steady presence made her brave enough to follow the arrow without question, despite the dread skittering up her spine to lodge in her chest.

  One way or another, they’d have answers when they reached their destination, she could feel it clear to her bones.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Devlin took a quick heading from Michaela’s spell compass, then started down the faint path it pointed to. Every sense was on high alert, determined to keep Michaela safe. The beast was convinced the power they’d seen Michaela use in the clearing was a true indicator of her ability. He couldn’t disagree with the bear’s assessment, wondered idly who could suppress his mate’s access to her own power. And how they’d do such a thing.

  The crunch of leaves and sticks under their feet was loud enough that he feared whoever—or whatever was ahead—would hear them coming from miles away. Claws poked through his fingertips, and he swiped quickly at one tree, then another as they followed the path. No point in assuming the path would always be this visible. Or that Michaela’s compass this reliable. Every so often he darted a quick glance back at his mate, one eyebrow raised in question. Without fail, her raised finger pointed straight ahead down the path they’d been following.

  They must have been walking for a good half hour when a faint scent of something dark and decaying set Devlin’s teeth on edge. He bit back a sneeze, and ignored the beast’s grumpy harrumph.

  “Do you smell that?” He whispered over his shoulder.

  Michaela’s brow furrowed, and she raised her pert nose and took a long whiff of the forest air. Then she shrugged and shook her head.

  Whatever it was he smelled was too faint for a human to scent. Yet. The rocks lodged in his stomach suggested that they’d stumble on the cause soon enough.

  As they trooped ever closer to that dank smell, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickled. A faint buzz faded in and out at the furthest reaches of Devlin’s hearing, making his ears ring. The ringing grew worse, so much so that he was ready to turn back if they didn’t find something in the next few minutes. Then he stepped through an arch created by two trees meeting above the path they’d been traveling. The world seemed to slip sideways, and bile rose in the back of his throat. It almost felt like stepping through a portal. The sight that met his gaze sent his bear into a frenzy. Claws and teeth tore through his mind, demanded release. Now. Before Michaela could see the horrors in the center of the small grove they’d stumbled into.

  A soft, horrified gasp sounded behind him, and a soft hand twined through is.

  “Supreme Maura…” Michaela said.

  His mates voice was buried under the rising shriek of her coven leader’s chanting. Fire rose in the middle of what looked to Devlin to be a standard summoning circle, except the fire flickered steadily through every color of the rainbow, and then flashed once only to grow dark. Black flames danced across white poplar logs without consuming them.

  Their dance was reflected in two dulled, exhausted pairs of eyes framed by lank, dirty hair. Samantha’s arms were pulled so tight she stood on tip toe, the other end of the rope confining her was looped round a branch high above her. Too high for Devlin to reach, even in his other shape.

  A man Devlin hadn’t met was sprawled unconscious by the dark flames. Devlin tested the air, sorting through a myriad of scents to find the distinct smell of damp wolf. Similar to dog, but mustier. The man had to be Mark, his mate’s brother-in-law.

  “She’s a fucking warlock, babe.”

  Michaela nodded agreement. “I can’t fight her, she’s too strong.” The defeat in her voice spurred the bear to action. Devlin had a bare moment to warn her before the beast took control.

  “Follow my lead. I’ll play distraction so you can get them out.” His last words were damn near unintelligible, and as soon as the beast was certain the message was received Devlin felt his bones and joints pop and crackle as the change took him.

  He ceded control to the beast with a whispered reminder that breaking circles generally broke spells. The beast charged at top speed, silent except for the pounding of feet on soft, dark earth.

  The bear’s entire attention was focused on the knife Maura raiseh, then set against Samantha’s throat. The witch paused when Devlin’s roar of anger and defiance hammered through the circle. Her too-dark gaze locked on his, and she smirked.

  Devlin poured on the speed, sprinting so fast the ground and forest blur. Still to goddamn slow, though. His nose just crossed the line etched in the dark earth when something slammed him backwards, like a well-timed fist to the shoulder. Devlin’s feet flew out from under him and he landed on his side with a ground sh
aking thud. Fire roared through his veins as the beast fought an undeniable urge revert to their vulnerable human form. Shit, that had to be a silver bullet. Sure enough, before Devlin could take two deep breaths, much less convince himself the bullet had missed vital organs, his bones creaked and snapped and he lay naked on the soft forest floor. Shit, shit shit. Now what?

  Michaela’s panicked scream drove him to move, to escape. To live. Curious fingers probed his left shoulder, found the entrance hole. Too far from his chest to cause permanent damage, but Devlin could feel the burn of poison in the wound. The silver slowed his healing, made it impossible for him to even use his one advantage to save his mate and her family.

  The world spun around him and for a moment Devlin thought he was dreaming. Michaela threw herself between him and her former coven leader, shielding him with her body. Silver wouldn’t stop her magic. But bullets could still kill her.

  “What the hell is this, Maura?” Anger quivered in his mate’s voice. Righteous anger. Devlin could feel the magic-saturated earth around them responding to her unconscious call, reaching out to help her.

  “Your power is mine. All the power will be mine.” The other witch cackled, but the blade she held stayed steady against Samantha’s throat. “Just as soon as the sacrifice is complete I’ll have the power to bring back my Jonas.”

  “Bring back—”

  “Her husband. Died in a car wreck several months ago,” Michaela whispered in his ear.

  Devlin’s skin crawled when he saw the manic belief in Maura’s eyes. He didn’t give voice to the truth, that what she planned wasn’t possible. Hell, who was he to say what was possible these days? Best to err on the side of caution. He fumbled in his pocket, counting on Michaela’s trembling presence to shield his movements from the crazy bitch with the knife. His gaze locked tight with Samantha’s defeated one, and he mouthed ‘hang on, girl’ as he grabbed blindly for the velvet bag Ash gave him. “Use the blue one on my mark,” he whispered. Michaela nodded, and her hand dipped into the pocket nearest him, emerged as a white-knuckled fist. Her bright, tear-filled eyes locked onto Sam’s, and she gasped when Maura pressed just enough to draw blood.

  “Whatever you’ve got, toss it here. I’ll make her death painless if you do. If not…” the witch shrugged, and more blood welled up beneath the blade’s edge.

  “Push all your power and intent through that thing,” Devlin commanded, then counted down. “Three, two, one, mark.”

  The world vanished in a blinding flash of iridescent light. Branches creaked and snapped under the pressure of Ash’s spell. Michaela slumped to the ground, and the light pulsed in time with the steady pounding of her heart.

  Devlin rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his light-dazzled vision. Tears poured down his cheeks, and the world was still blurry when he could finally see again. Maura lay halfway across the grove. Her hands scrabbled in the dirt, probably looking for the dagger that had fallen to the ground at Sam’s feet. Sam’s arm’s hung limp and white in front of her and her eyes blazed with fury.

  “What in the seven hells was that?” Maura’s voice faded. Devlin could feel the earth tremble. Every inch of the former witch’s too-tense posture screamed that she was deep in the magic, trying to finish what she’d started. He couldn’t have that.

  “Michaela, babe. Get up. We’ve got to finish this now—”

  Her soft groan made his heart pound, his mouth dried up. She had to be okay, he couldn’t lose her when he’d just barely found her. “Michaela, honey. Come on…”

  His bear whined as their mate trembled like a poplar leaf beneath their soft touch. Her eyes darted to and fro beneath closed lids, seeing nothing. Still, he was certain she was fighting a battle he couldn’t see. Could barely sense.

  “Almost… just a little more and I’ll have it all Miss Steele,” the warlock gloated.

  The beast roared as understanding pounded through Devlin’s skull. The bitch was still trying to take his mate’s power. He fumbled for the bag of tricks, trying to remember which charm did what—and damn near desperate enough to throw the whole damn thing at Maura despite Ash’s warnings to take care when using the spells.

  Before he could fling the bundle, Samantha’s voice rose high and clear over Maura’s gravely chanting. Three words in, and Sam’s words took on the rhythm of song. He could hear that rhythm echoed in the scritch of a stick through dirt. He’d never heard a witch spell-cast with music, but the silence on Maura’s end told him that whatever his mate’s sister was doing worked. That was all he cared about.

  A thud pulled Devlin’s attention off Michaela for a moment as he looked for hidden threats. Instead, he spotted Maura face down in the dirt. Motionless other than the slight rise and fall of her chest, and stiff as a board. He raised an eyebrow at Samantha in question and got more than he bargained for.

  “I’ve bound her magic. She’s stuck like that until I decide otherwise.” Devlin watched as Sam fell to her knees beside Mark, and rested a hand on his chest. His unmoving chest. Shit.

  “Is he…”

  Samantha’s focus stayed on her husband, and tears dripped from her chin. “He’s gone. She—broke his mind, shattered it to bits.” A sob wracked her body, and Devlin moved toward her. She shooed him back with a wan smile. “He brought it on himself, believing her bullshit. Take care of my sister. Let me worry about him.”

  Devlin nodded, and pulled Michaela’s limp body into his lap. He drew strength and comfort from the steady rise and fall of her chest and the thud of her pulse. She was alive. Sam was alive, and the warlock accounted for.

  He’d wait as long as it took for his mate to awaken.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Michaela moaned and stretched, trying to ease the aches and pains twinging through her entire body. Soft fingers twined through her hair, and a low voice begged her to wake up. God, that voice was so soothing, almost enough to make her snuggle back in for a longer rest. But something was missing. Pillows, blankets. She darted a bleary-eyed glance around her and gasped. Instead of walls, her gaze fell on towering oaks and quivering poplars. Rough cloth scraped across her cheek as she twisted to look the other way. What the hell had happened to her.

  Panic sent her heart racing and she all but jumped to her feet. Strong hands wrapped around her biceps, kept her from bolting. Words tumbled through her ears but she had to focus to make sense of them.

  “Slow down, babe. You’re alright. Hush, just breath for a minute. Think. Remember.” Soft lips pressed against her forehead, and the kiss was oddly reassuring. Devlin, her exhaustion-fogged brain finally supplied. Agent Devlin Quinn, bear shifter and man of her dreams.

  Memories fell into place like dominoes after that first identification had been made. Her stomach revolted, and she spat out the bitter taste of bile when she realized just how close she’d come to losing Sam. “Samantha? Are you—”

  “Here, sis. And right as I’ll be until I rest.” Lean fingers squeezed Michaela’s shoulder almost hard enough to bruise. “Mark’s gone, though.”

  Michaela heard the sorrow and self-blame twined through her sister’s quiet statement.

  “Sam, I’m sorry. I should have done more, been better. Saved him—” Doubt and panic swirled through Michaela’s mind until her thoughts were a tornado threatening to destroy what sanity she had left. Devlin’s solid hug, the rock-hard wall of muscle she rested her cheek against as he rocked her were just barely enough to ground her, to chase away the storm.

  “You did your best, babe. It’s good enough, always.” Again, soft lips pressed against her forehead, and somehow that kiss felt like absolution and forgiveness and belief all wrapped up in one tidy package. If only Michaela dared to lean on the strength of Devlin’s faith in her. Bitter experience had taught her just how undependable she was when it came to magic; and to life. Michaela sniffled, and wiped away her tears. Time to end the pity party and figure out where she went from here. Her magic pulsed strong and bright within, brilliant counterpoint to her
dark thoughts.

  “When you’re ready, we’ve got a call to make.” Devlin’s voice was soft, hesitant. Michaela nodded. At least he’d said we, so he wasn’t going to let her face the music on this alone.

  Her lips trembled as she spoke, but she stood tall and straight. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Agent Quinn.” Somehow, the moment seemed to demand formality.

  Devlin nodded and pulled out a smart phone. Couple taps on the screen and everyone heard the ringing. The voice that finally answered was unmistakable.

  “Grand Supreme Crow speaking. How may I help you?”

  “I’m calling to report corruption of a coven leader, capture of a warlock, and the death of wolf-shifter Mark Davidson at the hands of Maura Elisabeth Blake former coven leader turned warlock.”

  Devlin’s words fell like stones into a still pond. The ripples of his message spread for ages before the stern voice—Grand Supreme Crow, presumably—responded.

  “Very well. Please advise as to warlock Blake’s current status.”

  Samantha coughed, then spoke. “Warlock Blake is currently confined by one of my spells. She keeps trying to break it and tear the magic out of her coven-members.” The strain of holding Maura in place showed in the slight tremble of Sam’s voice. Again, the explanation given rendered the Grand Supreme speechless.

  Michaela listened as hard as she could, trying to identify the background noises she could hear. There was the faint murmur of voices, and the hiss of magic crackling through the air. Finally, Supreme Crow spoke.

  “The Council has confirmed your report Agent Quinn, Miss Steele, Ms. Steele.”

  “Has judgment been rendered by the Council?” The too-even tone of Devlin’s voice rattled Michaela to her core.

  “As harm has been done, so shall harm be rendered upon Ms. Blake.” Michaela trembled under the cold hammer of the Grand Supreme’s pronouncement. Her heart skipped a beat when the cold voice continued. “Judgment shall be carried out by newly appointed coven leader Michaela Steele.”