Sex made him think of Ailish. Her lean body, her in-his-face attitude, and the way she moved as though she owned the whole damned world, blind or not. Just the memory got him half-hard. “Shit.”
“I smell a trace of witch blood. You’d better have your lifelines.”
Phoenix held up his hand, palm out. He knew Key could see the lines that meant he still had his soul. But if Ailish kept singing, would he keep his soul? Or would the power in her voice drive him to kill her? Then he’d have baby-butt-smooth palms, no soul, and an ironclad promise of eternity as a pain-racked shade trapped in the between-worlds.
Key breathed out a sigh of relief and said, “What the hell happened tonight? Axel said you were off getting laid, but you weren’t here in the condo.”
He leaned his head on the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. “I tracked the source of the voice.”
“Finally,” Key snapped. “That denial shit was going to get you dead.”
“Before tonight, wasn’t enough there to track,” he pointed out.
“Carla thought she could help you find the source with her magic.”
He stared at the blank TV. “I don’t do shrinks.” Too many years of the county head docs doping his mom, but nothing helped her. Sheri had started hearing voices telling her to run when Phoenix had been four years old. Up till then, she’d held a job as a nurse and been a great mom. Then everything changed. The voices destroyed their lives, and they ended up homeless and living on the streets. He jerked his mind from the past and shifted his gaze back to Key to drop his bombshell. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I found the source. An earth witch handfasted to a demon.”
Key dropped his feet and sat up. “The hell you say? Did you test to see if she’s gone demon?”
“Silver didn’t burn her. And it gets better.” He told Key about her voice power that enhanced all magic.
Key drained his glass of Scotch. The single-malt wasn’t getting any respect tonight. “This is so totally screwed up. She could be working with Asmodeus to destroy you.” The green-and-blue dragon seemed to ripple across his chest. “What did you do?”
Phoenix shrugged. “She’s still an earth witch so I can’t kill her.” He took another deep swallow of the whiskey and said, “Chuck Norris—”
Key groaned.
Phoenix ignored him. He’d grown up watching Chuck Norris movies and that cheesy TV show whenever he got the opportunity. Norris never met a problem he couldn’t solve with a roundhouse kick. Phoenix had honed a killer roundhouse kick. He continued, “Chuck Norris never retreats, he just attacks from another direction.”
“You retreated.”
“For now. Seemed better than roundhouse kicking her. Trust me, this chick kicks back.” Okay, he couldn’t help a small grin at that memory.
“There’s a first, you walking away from violence.”
Phoenix reached for the bottle on the table. “Says the man who draws some really freaky shit.” Key’s comic books were dark, violent, and brilliant.
Key leveled his gaze on him. “Freaky? Dude, you’ve got a witch voice in your head that nearly got you killed tonight, but you can’t kill the witch doing it.”
Restless and agitated, he stood up and walked to a window looking out of the front over the club. It was early morning, the club was shut down, and the surrounding neighborhood was barren. He stared at the dirty buildings and thought about the days they’d lived on the streets. His father was killed before Phoenix was born, and Sheri’s family wanted nothing to do with her as long as she kept her bastard kid. Only twenty-two years old, pregnant, and left with no help. Then, when she’d been twenty-six and the voices started in her head, she’d had nowhere to turn. As he got older, Phoenix tried to be her hero.
He failed.
He didn’t need a PhD in psychology to know that’s why he’d gone into bounty hunting—looking to be the hero he’d failed to be for his mom. He’d helped women who had nowhere else to turn. Ironically, now it was a woman destroying him, a blind witch who brought out his protective instincts. Yeah, talk about freaky.…
A raised voice outside the condo jerked him from his ruminations. He turned from the window and frowned as he recognized the voice. “That’s Joe.” He put down his glass and strode to the door.
Key got up and went to the security panel. “Nothing’s been disturbed in the building.”
Phoenix grabbed his knife from the holster, opened the door, and stepped out. Looking right, he saw Joe MacAlister with a very pregnant woman in his arms. He was kicking Axel’s door. “Hurry! It’s Morgan.” Joe wore barely buttoned jeans and no shoes, his dark hair was matted, and his voice thundered.
Phoenix hurried the length of the hallway. Axel and Darcy had the largest corner condo. Morgan and Joe were next to them. Joe was Darcy’s cousin, a mortal who’d protected Darcy when she was a kid and had no idea she was a witch. Then when Joe discovered the truth a few months ago—nothing changed. She was still the cousin he treated like a little sister.
Phoenix holstered his knife. “Joe, is it the baby?”
The man whirled, his blue eyes nearly wild. Joe had spent six years in the Special Forces, barely blinked when he found out Darcy was a witch, and fought rogue witch hunters almost to the death. Nothing rattled the mortal. But something sure as hell had tonight. “I don’t know.” His voice had a forced calm.
Axel yanked open the door, wearing pants and nothing else. “Bring her inside.”
Phoenix and Key followed.
Darcy rushed out from the back room, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair a tangled mess around her face. “Contractions?”
Joe zeroed in on Darcy. “Don’t think that’s it. But she’s in pain and swears there’s blood on her stomach. There’s nothing there.”
Phoenix moved closer. Morgan was wearing shorts that settled below her swollen belly and a T-shirt. Her blue eyes were wide and unfocused. “Hurts. It’s Eric, he’s cutting me, trying to get the baby!”
Phoenix felt a wet chill slither down his back. Eric Reed was dead; Phoenix had been there when Axel killed him. Eric had been a rogue and married an unsuspecting Morgan. He’d shifted her memory while using his knife to cut her, torturing her and causing brain damage. Morgan had been a fighter, struggling to survive and protect her unborn child. Eric had wanted their child, that much was true.
Darcy laid her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “What hurts, Morgan?” She flinched suddenly.
Axel moved in a blur, putting his hand over Darcy’s. “What is it?”
“Her stomach. The pain is real to her.”
“Darcy, do something,” Joe hissed.
Phoenix felt Darcy’s magic rise and simmer in the room as she drew the pain from Morgan and sent calming energy to her. He glanced at Axel, who was helping Darcy focus her powers while taking the pain from her through their soul-mirror bond.
Morgan relaxed visibly in Joe’s arms.
The hawk met his gaze and said, “We need to see if there’s any blood.”
Phoenix nodded and said, “Morgan …” He shifted his gaze to her face. She was pale and sweaty, with strands of blond hair sticking to her skin. “I’m going to lift your shirt so we can see what’s happening.”
She nodded.
Phoenix took the edge of the navy-colored shirt and gently peeled it up. The mound of her stomach was marked by two rows of silvery scars that had been caused by Eric Reed’s knife. His veins caught fire at the sight of the healed wounds. “Morgan,” he said gently, “there’re no open cuts, no blood.”
“I saw them, felt them. They were there. Darcy must have healed them with her magic,” Morgan insisted, her voice rising as tension stiffened her muscles. “I’m not crazy.”
Eric Reed had told everyone that his wife was a mentally disturbed cutter. The brain damage he’d inflicted on Morgan should have made her believe it, too, but she had a strong mind and her subconscious resisted.
“Morgan, we’re trying to help you,” Joe said gently, then he looked up
to Axel, Darcy, Key, and Phoenix. “She was restless all night, then woke up in a panic. She was convinced her stomach was bleeding.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “It’s Eric, he’s back. He’s trying to get the baby. He’s trying to cut the baby out of me.”
“What the hell is happening to her?” Joe demanded, his arms pulling her tighter against him.
Darcy lifted her gaze to her cousin. “Not sure. I’m going to get Carla on the computer and see if the two of us can figure it out.” She dropped her gaze to the woman. “Morgan, you have to help us and fight this. Focus on your baby. He needs you to stay calm.”
Tears welled in Morgan’s eyes, but she nodded. She shifted her gaze back to Phoenix. “Eric’s not here, right?”
Phoenix took her hand and looked into her eyes. “No. Axel killed him. I saw him die.” Joe had been protecting Morgan and Carla, but the rogues had managed to get all three of them. As lethal as Joe was, he was still mortal and couldn’t win against half a dozen rogues. But it still rankled the man that he hadn’t protected Morgan and Carla. That’s why they lived in the condo with the witch hunters, where they could all keep Morgan safe. Rogues would love to get their hands on her baby since he was a boy and would therefore be a witch hunter. They’d find a way to get the kid and turn him rogue around the age of fourteen and add him to their army. They kept building the Rogue Cadre with the goal of killing all witches.
“You’re safe, Morgan,” Joe said tightly. “No rogue can get through us.”
She closed her eyes and turned her face into Joe’s chest. “I don’t want to be crazy.”
Joe bent his head, putting his face close to hers. “You’re not crazy, you’re a fighter. We won’t let him win.”
Darcy said, “Joe, take Morgan into the guest room. Morgan, you need to rest, and I’m going to get Carla so we can both help you.”
Joe walked off, leaving the four of them.
Key had hung back by the door, probably to not crowd Morgan or maybe to keep watch. Now he walked up. “Is the baby okay?”
The question hung there for a few seconds. Morgan was seven months along. While a mortal baby could survive if born early, a witch hunter baby needed to go full term. Their enhanced biology required every minute in the womb for their lungs to be able to support them. If born even two weeks early, they often didn’t survive. Before the curse, witches always helped women pregnant with witch hunter babies. But since the curse, there’d been more deaths than live births.
Darcy looked tired as she drew in a breath and said, “For now, he feels okay as far as I can tell.”
“And Morgan?” Phoenix asked.
“If she loses this baby, it’ll destroy her. She loves Joe, but she’s holding back with him, afraid that somehow Eric’s going to come back and kill Joe for being with her. The brain damage that bastard inflicted on her was so brutal.…” Her witch-shimmer, normally a beautiful gold, tinged with a slight red pain. Not physical pain, but the pain earth witches felt when others suffered.
“Damn it.” Fury rolled through him. That asshole Eric Reed was still reaching from the grave and torturing Morgan. This wasn’t a flesh-and-blood problem he could kill. He looked at Darcy. “Anything you need, anything I can do, you just name it.”
Darcy reached out and touched his forearm, just a comforting touch, then she hurried after Joe and Morgan.
Phoenix felt so fucking helpless. He ran his hand through his hair. Not only was Joe his friend, but Morgan, she was a tough chick who fought back against the bastard rogue torturing her. She loved her baby, even knowing he was a witch hunter who could one day turn into the monster his father had been.
Axel moved fast, stepping in front of him. Even dressed only in jeans, he looked the part of the menacing leader. “I smell witch blood on you.”
Key said, “Going back to the condo.” He slid out silently.
It was just him and Axel. Phoenix forced his shoulders to stay relaxed and raised his hand. “Got my lifelines, so back off.”
Axel didn’t look at his palm but stared him down. “If you were rogue, your blood would be staining my floors. Don’t jack with me, Phoenix.”
Dropping his hand, he waged an internal struggle. Axel was the leader and needed to know about Ailish and her voice power. Yet part of him wanted to protect the witch. But from what? Axel wouldn’t hurt an earth witch. Taking a breath, he quickly outlined tracking the source of the voice in his head.
Axel’s mouth compressed and his shoulders bunched into piles of pure muscle. “Demon?”
The tension crawled up his spine and his muscles coiled in defensive mode. He always felt protective of women, but this was more ferocious and very focused on the witch. “No.” His jaw tried to lock, tried to stop him from explaining. Refusing to let this overwhelming protectiveness control him, he added, “She’s handfasted to a demon.”
Axel’s green eyes went from intense to lethal. “Where is she?”
His palm itched to reach for his knife. It occurred to him that this reaction might be not the voice, but the fact that he’d touched her blood. Ailish was in him now, and he didn’t want any other hunter near her or her powerful blood. Keeping still, he said, “You can’t kill her. She’s still an earth witch. I tested her.”
DAYS REMAINING ON HANDFAST CONTRACT: THIRTEEN
Ailish felt the way she did the morning after a kickboxing match, sore and tired. Her head hurt from the uncontrollable power surges and hormone rushes.
Last night, she’d failed to make progress on getting the binding off. And worse, her voice was somehow reaching out to a witch hunter.
Phoenix. His voice, scent, and touch were burned into her memory. That encounter had left her restless and needy all night. What was going on?
Dressed in jeans and her customary black shirt, she left her hair wet and headed for the kitchen. She walked over the cool tile of the kitchen floor. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, she opened her chakras to summon her favorite chai tea.
The cup filled, and gentle steam wafted up. She inhaled the scent and thought about what she would do today and how she’d attempt to break the handfast. She reached into the pantry for a bag of dried fruit and nuts, then carried both her tea and breakfast into the living room. She switched on the TV to a local news channel, then settled onto the couch. While commercials droned on, she put her tea on the coffee table and opened the Ziploc bag to grab a handful of dried cranberries and almonds. Then the morning anchor’s voice caught her attention.
“Paramedic Kyle Whaling was taken to the emergency room, where he was treated and released. He and his partner were on a call with full lights and sirens when a tire blew and they hit a tree.” The reporter added, “There’s some confusion about the call. We’re trying to get the nine-one-one tape to confirm there was a call.”
“Oh shit!” She dropped the bag and jumped to her feet. Fear-laced adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream. Her heart raced and her muscles twitched. Forgetting the tea and nuts, she hurried into the bedroom and grabbed her phone, then hit the speed dial for the driver Haley had hired for her. “Dee, I need you here ASAP.”
She had to get to Kyle. This was no accident. They weren’t going to find that 911 call because it didn’t exist.
Her mother had done it.
Ailish yanked on some socks, then her boots. Next she picked up a couple packets of ground-up silver shavings that had the consistency of heavy glitter and put one in her boot and one in a jeans pocket. She slung her small backpack purse over her shoulder and headed to the front of the house, then stopped and went back to the bedroom.
She picked up her sunglasses. She didn’t usually hide her eyes, didn’t really give a rat’s ass what people thought.
Usually.
But she needed Kyle to focus on what she was going to tell him, not her eyes. She slipped on the shades and went to wait by the door for the car.
Ailish had thought Kyle would be safe. She hadn’t contacted him since the night of the handfast ceremony
eight years ago. Her mother had used Kyle to trick Ailish back then, using her desperate love for him. But today he was just a memory, and she hadn’t thought her mom would try to use Kyle now. It was one thing to lure a seventeen-year-old boy to a handfasting and drug him. Hell, that was almost too easy.
But a twenty-five-year-old paramedic wasn’t going to be led so effortlessly, especially one who had been possessed before. The human body was pretty amazing and built up antibodies to the foreign invader, making it harder for a demon to possess the same person repeatedly. She could only surmise that her mom thought she could grab Kyle at some point when he was injured and his resistance weakened by painkillers. Then the demon witches could get control of him and summon Asmodeus into Kyle’s body.
Ailish heard the car pulling onto her street, but she waited until there was a knock on her door. “Yes?”
“Hi, Ailish, it’s Dee.”
She recognized the voice. Even so, as she opened the door, she used her air chakra to feel for any unusual disturbance like demon magic. But the woman on the porch was fully human and free of magic residue. Ailish went out, then shut and locked the dead bolt on her door. She followed the vague shape of the driver to the car.
Dee went to the passenger door and opened it. “Where to this morning?”
“I need to see a friend.” She rattled off the address Haley had given her for Kyle, then reached out and touched the top of the doorframe to guide her into the seat on the passenger side.
“No problem. That’s down by the beach.” Dee shut the door and went around to her side, and they took off.
Ailish clenched her fists in her lap to control her impatience.
“Hey, so I’ve seen some of your matches. How do you, umm, well …”
“Fight blind?” She got the question a lot.
“Well, yeah.”
“I use my other senses. It took years to learn, but being blind forces me to be sharper than if I was still sighted.” She also used her chakras to guide her. They had become more sensitized since she’d gone blind and could feel the disturbance in the air as the opponent began a move. That told Ailish how to block or counter the action. Over time, it all became second nature. She added, “When I first started kickboxing, I got my ass handed to me every single day. And it really pissed me off.”
Night Magic: A Wing Slayer Novel Page 4
