Night Magic: A Wing Slayer Novel

by Jennifer Lyon

  Dee laughed. “You don’t seem to like losing.”

  “Who does?” But her motivation ran deeper. She had to be strong and fast enough, even blind, to drop a mortal man and keep him still for the length of time it takes to magically force Asmodeus out.

  And she had to learn to tolerate pain.

  Because Ailish would never be what her mother was—a woman who gave her soul to a demon in exchange for dark powers and then sold her daughter to a demon for more power. Maeve had ascended to high witch of the coven shortly after Ailish was born and Maeve learned of Ailish’s rare power. In exchange, for the promise of delivering her daughter to the demon when she was of age, Maeve was made high witch, and Ailish became the princess to be protected and sheltered until Asmodeus claimed her. But of course, Ailish knew none of this … not until the night of the handfast.

  So, no, she didn’t like to lose. Because every loss meant she had a weakness, and just one flaw in her skills could let the demon too close.

  They’d tricked her once with her own vulnerability—love for a boy.

  “We’re here.”

  Kyle’s house. What did it look like? she wondered as she turned toward Dee. “Just tell me where the front door is.”

  “I’ll show you.”

  “No—” She stopped talking, since she heard Dee open the door and get out. Ailish stepped out of the car.

  “Follow me,” Dee said.

  At least the woman didn’t touch her. She followed the shadow figure of her driver while using her air chakra to “feel” for any sort of bump, rock, or curb in front of her. It was similar to using a cane, she assumed, and usually kept her from falling flat on her face. She could hear the waves in the distance and smelled the faint scent of the ocean.

  “The door is a couple feet in front of us. Do you want me to knock?”

  She fought down a flare of irritation. The woman was only trying to do her job. “I can manage to knock on a door. You’re free to leave, go get some coffee or do whatever. I’ll call you to pick me up when I need you.”

  Dee replied cheerfully, “I’ll wait in the car. I’ve got a book to read, so I’m good.”

  Ailish nodded, impressed that Dee didn’t get offended. She listened until she heard the car door shut. Seeing Kyle again hadn’t been in her plans. But now, here she was at his house. She heard a TV from somewhere inside, so he was home. Was someone else here? A buddy or girlfriend? That would make it harder to talk him into leaving town. She’d heard that his parents had retired to the warmer, drier climate of Arizona. She was going to convince Kyle to go recover with them. He had to get out of Glassbreakers.

  After touching the door with her fingertips, she raised her hand and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Oh hell. He just invited people into his house? What if it had been her mother or one of the other witches from the coven? She felt along the door until she came to a door handle. Opening it, she quickly reached out with her chakras for any traces of sulfur or the cold, oily sensation of dark magic, but it was clean. She closed the door, hearing what sounded like sports on the TV. “Kyle? It’s Ailish, Ailish Donovan.”

  Silence, then some rustling, as if he were trying to sit up. “No shit? Ailish? What are you doing here?”

  His voice stirred memories, but she refused to let them surface. “I just got back in town. I heard about your accident and wanted to see if you’re okay.” She stood there just inside the door. Sweeping the room with her air chakra, she had a sense of a wall on her left and various pieces of furniture on her right. The TV sounded as if it were across the room. Kyle was closer, just ahead at two o’clock.

  “How’d you know where I live?”

  His voice cooled just a tad. Not exactly suspicious, but not entirely trusting. “A friend looked up your address for me. Kyle, I know this seems weird, but I need you to listen to what I have to say.” Ailish couldn’t hear anyone else in the house, nor did she feel any other energy vibrating her chakras.

  “Okay, sit down.”

  “I’m fine here.” Moving around an unfamiliar house was a challenge.

  “So it’s true? You really are blind. It’s not just a gimmick? You know, the blind kickboxer.”

  She should have realized the shades were useless. She pulled them off and said, “More like an inconvenience than a gimmick.”

  “Oh,” he said, like a verbal wince. Then he added, “There’s a chair a couple feet to your right. Sit down, you’re making me tense just standing there.”

  Turning her head, she saw the vague shadow. She reached out to feel the fabric, then sat down. “How bad are you hurt?”

  “Couple cracked ribs, stitches in my face and right arm, and some bruising here and there.” He took a breath and said, “I’ve seen you, you know, on TV. It’s hard to believe you’re a kickboxer.” He paused, then asked, “How did you lose your sight?”

  She had to ease into telling him that magic and witches were real, and he was in danger. The truth about her blindness would be too much, too soon. She answered simply, “Car accident.”

  “Sounds like you had it rough.” His sympathy rolled into confusion as he asked, “What happened? Why did you run away? The rumor was that you had some kind of breakdown.”

  Being around Kyle was ripping away the years of discipline to expose the vulnerable young girl who had loved him. But she was no longer that girl and hadn’t been in years. “Lies. I never had a breakdown.” She heard the ice in her voice, took a breath, and softened her tone. “Kyle, do you remember the last time we saw each other?”

  He paused, then said slowly, “Uh, you had run away and your mom asked me to help look for you. But, wait, I didn’t see you that night because we never found you.”

  Somewhere in his subconscious, he remembered seeing her, and that’s why he was slightly confused. Her mother must have told Kyle she ran away to get him to go with her. Then she’d drugged him and the coven had summoned the demon into his body. By the time Ailish saw him at the handfasting ceremony, he had already been possessed by Asmodeus, although she hadn’t realized it until almost too late. “You saw me that night, Kyle. See this binding on my wrist?” She lifted her left hand. “Look at it and try to remember.”

  “Remember what? I didn’t see you. You ran away and I never saw you again. Except on TV, but—”

  Damn it, she wasn’t going to convince him by trying to get him to remember. She never told mortals that she was a witch, but Kyle was in danger. “Stop, Kyle, just stop and pay attention.” She waved her hand at the TV, cutting the power supply.

  The TV went silent.

  “What did you do? I have the remote, but it’s not going back on.”

  “I’m a witch, Kyle.” She released the hold she had on the power supply and the TV burst back to life.

  “Cute trick, but I was watching that game.”

  “It’s not a trick.” He’d told her where the remote was, so she held out her hand. The hard plastic rectangle appeared in her palm. She held it up. “I’m a witch and so is my mother.”

  Silence. Then he laughed. “Sure, a witch. Why not? So are you changing careers? Giving up kickboxing to be a magician?”

  She leaned forward. “What magicians do isn’t real magic. This is.” She focused her powers, using the remote as a channel, and sent her memory of the handfasting to the television.

  “How … That’s me. And you …” His voice trailed off as he watched.

  Ailish couldn’t see the image on the screen, but she could see it in her mind.

  Her mother had given her a black silk robe to wear. Her instructions had been clear: This was important magic, and she had to wear nothing under the robe. She was making a promise to the boy she loved, and she would seal the promise by joining … she had to be ready under her robe. They went to the Infernal Grounds the coven used. There was a crumbling old clapboard, one-room chapel said to be haunted. The truth was the grounds were heavily warded and protected by hellhounds. Mortals who tried to
approach the grounds heard screams of the dead and growls of the hellhounds and were driven off. Ailish had never been there. She had always been kept away.

  They bypassed the crumbling chapel and went instead to a cleared area outlined in black candles. Kyle was led from inside the chapel by one of the other witches, and they stood together before her mother, with the coven witches behind them.

  The scent of incense grew thick, while the air seemed magically charged. The hairs on Ailish’s skin stood up. But she was so excited. Kyle was there! He did care about her! Her mother had done just as she had promised!

  As high witch, her mother began by raising her hand. A gold goblet encrusted with three heads appeared. “Ailish Donovan, you have reached the age of consent. You are sixteen and no longer a child, but now a full-grown witch, responsible and answerable for all that you pledge. To symbolize this, drink deeply now from the Goblet of Choice.”

  Feeling Kyle’s gaze on her, she took the chalice in her hands and brought it to her mouth. The first sip was sweet and tangy, so she kept drinking as she had been instructed. When she had swallowed the last of it, the goblet vanished from her hands.

  “So be it,” the coven said as one.

  Kyle said, “Enough. You paid someone to dub my picture into that scene. I wasn’t there, I would remember it. It’s just another trick.”

  She froze the scene on the TV. “Not a trick, it’s magic. I told you, I’m a witch, an earth witch. But my mother is a demon witch, and she’s more dangerous than you can imagine. That night you believe I ran away, my mother kidnapped and drugged you to use in the ceremony to handfast me to a demon.” She was glad she didn’t have to see his expression, didn’t have to look at the disgust or distrust or whatever he felt. “You were possessed by the demon. I realized what was happening and used my power to get the demon out of you. Then I ran away.”

  He gave a short laugh, but she heard the tension in the bark of sound. “You’re crazy. Do you hear yourself? Demons, witches … Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s all the painkillers and I’m dreaming or hallucinating.”

  “No, this is real, it’s happening.” She leaned forward. “The crash this morning wasn’t an accident. I’m sure they will never find the nine-one-one call you were supposedly responding to. My mother did it. She used her witchcraft to radio a fake call to you. Then once you were responding, she used magic to blow your tire.”

  He moved something on his lap, maybe a pillow, and said harshly, “Okay, this is getting out of hand. You need to get help, Ailish.”

  Frustration boiled up, but she stayed in control. “Did they find the nine-one-one call? Does the dispatcher remember calling it to you?”

  “Not yet, but there was a malfunction.” His voice thinned with less certainty.

  She kept pushing, trying to make him see that something wasn’t right. “What about your partner?”

  “He said the call was garbled, like static, but I heard it, damn it! And I was driving, so I just took off. He was just reaching to call for clarification when the tire blew and we rolled. He’s still in the hospital with a concussion.”

  His partner was probably safer there. She rose and moved toward Kyle’s voice. She went around an obstacle, probably a coffee table, and sat on the couch. Holding out the remote, she said, “What if I’m right?”

  “I haven’t seen you in eight years. Why would you suddenly show up now? Maybe you’re holding a monster grudge.”

  “Grudge? Against you?” She was baffled.

  He sighed, his words heavy as he finally took the remote from her. “I didn’t call you or really even talk to you after, well, after we had sex.”

  She was unwillingly yanked back across the years, remembering the dates of movies, going to the beach, parties, and then that night when she’d finally said yes. She and Kyle had had sex when his parents were out. Kyle had made her feel important and valuable for herself, not her magical power.

  Ailish had grown up protected and sheltered, warned never to use her special voice power because earth witches would find her and kidnap her. Over time, she began to see that she was nothing more than a pawn in some kind of witch war she wasn’t interested in or even allowed to participate in. She was put on the sidelines and told to stay there, just existing.

  But what she had wanted, longed for, was love and family. Like she saw on TV or at her friends’ houses.

  And then she’d met Kyle at school, and he liked her. They went out, and she became part of his group. She belonged. She felt safe. Safe enough to give her body to him as well as her heart. It had been awkward and embarrassing and sweet, and Kyle had been nice.

  Then he’d stopped calling, stopped answering her calls, and ducked her at school.

  “Ailish?”

  She pulled herself from the past. She wasn’t that lonely, desperate girl anymore, and she had to make Kyle understand the danger he was in. She was there to keep him alive, not to reminisce about old times. “Get over yourself, Kyle. I’ve been over you for years. I’m only here because you’re in danger. Didn’t I hear your parents moved? Couldn’t you go see them while you heal?”

  “Right. I’m going to pack up, get on a plane with cracked ribs, and leave because you just showed up with a few clever tricks and said you’re a witch. Not gonna happen. We’re done with this little reunion.”

  Shit, his voice throbbed with anger and uneasiness. Mortals couldn’t deal with the idea of witches; they never could, as evidenced by all the witch hunts. But Kyle’s denial went deeper, it had a magical root. Plus they’d used drugs to gain control of him and further confused the memory. Ailish knew it was a risk, but she reached out, touched Kyle’s arm, and began to hum. Just barely, a sound so soft, it was only a whisper. If she could use just a little of her voice power, maybe she could break through.

  The couch began to shake and the windows rattled.

  Kyle jerked his arm away. “Earthquake or something,” he said.

  Ailish pulled her hand back and closed off her power. She didn’t have enough control, and she could hurt Kyle. Badly. Shit. Her head throbbed from the worry.

  “Kyle—”

  He ignored her, rising slowly from the couch and shuffling over to the TV. After a few seconds, he said, “There’s nothing in the DVD player. How’d you get this scene onto my TV?”

  She’d left it frozen on his set. She sighed. “I told you—”

  He walked back, his shadow bent as though he were protecting his ribs. “You’re a witch. Yeah, heard you.” He sat down slowly.

  “But you don’t believe me,” she said flatly. “It’s easier to believe the story my mom spread about me having a breakdown. Easier to believe I rigged your TV, and that an earthquake happened at the exact moment I touched you.” She knew he just couldn’t digest it. The magical block had been in place for eight years, she couldn’t undo it in a half hour. Instead, she fished a business card out of her backpack and put it on the table. “This is my cell number. I’m staying at 334 Maple Street. If anything strange happens, call me.”

  “What about my TV?”

  She stood, lifted one hand, and cleared her magic so that he could control the TV with his remote again. Then she looked toward Kyle, and suddenly she wondered, What did he look like now? Hell, she didn’t even know what she looked like, and she didn’t care. This little trip down memory lane had been a mistake. But she would at least give him a fighting chance. “Silver burns demon witches. Anything silver.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out one of her packets. “This is basically a heavy silver glitter. If anything you can’t believe comes at you, throw it in their eyes and run like hell.” She dropped it next to her card and walked out the door.

  Phoenix slept a couple hours at the condo rather than drive to his house and was downing his first cup of coffee when the security panel started beeping. He pulled out his BlackBerry and hit the key to see what the hell was interrupting his coffee.

  Once he saw the screen, he shot up off the bar stool and hauled
ass out of the condo. Key slammed shut his laptop and fell into step behind him. Axel tore out of his door with Joe racing out behind him. They all pounded down the stairs and into the club. Joe hit the lights.

  Phoenix never paused, he skirted the bar and got to the front door just as Axel yanked it open. Phoenix caught Ram as he fell, covered in blood.

  Ram sputtered, “It was Tully and Chaz.”

  Phoenix picked up the six-foot-five hunter and took him to one of the red leather couches. “Two of our recruits? They’ve gone rogue?” he said, to verify whom he was going to kill.

  “They said they just killed some rogues and were coming to report in. I smelled copper and thought it was the dead rogues. A couple yards from me, they both pulled guns and started firing. I think … Shit.” He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath that rattled.

  “Darcy’s on her way down,” Axel said. “Joe, go up and stay with Morgan. Darcy doesn’t want her alone.”

  Joe turned and strode away, his posture frustrated and angry that one of theirs had been attacked.

  Key ripped open Ram’s shirt and said, “Two gunshots. One to his stomach, second to his shoulder.”

  Axel put pressure on the wounds using folded white bar towels.

  Key moved lower and ripped open the blood-soaked pants at Ram’s upper right thigh. “Damn it, third shot hit the artery.” Key stuck his hand into the bloody mess to clamp down on the spewing vein.

  Fury dumped adrenaline into Phoenix’s bloodstream. Only the fact that Ram was a witch hunter and healed fast was keeping him from bleeding out. Ram was a goddamned machine, never stopping for injuries. He never missed a workout. Never gave up a hunt because he’d been cut or caught a bullet. That’s why when Ram tripped the club security and they’d seen the picture of him injured, they’d all snapped into action. “Ram”—Phoenix leaned over the man—“tell me what I need to know.”