The injured man opened his fierce steel blue eyes. His normally olive-colored skin paled to a sickly white. “Still hearing that voice in your head?”
Phoenix’s chest burned and his throat tightened. Even down and bleeding, Ram was the military leader, assessing and judging the men he sent out. Phoenix had been six kinds of furious at Ram last night, but he’d never doubted his motives. “Just the one screaming for revenge. Only voice I’m listening to.”
Ram took a breath. “The blood on them wasn’t just witch blood. I think they killed other recruits. Find them, kill them.” His voice was soft, but the anger came through loud and clear. Ram didn’t yell or make threats, he struck. All the men, both Wing Slayer Hunters and recruits, respected him.
If Ram had been able to stand at all, he’d be after them. But since he couldn’t do it, Phoenix would. He reached down and gripped the man’s forearm. “This isn’t on you. It’s on Tully and Chaz. I’ll find them and kill them. You hear me? It’s not on you. You couldn’t have known they’d go rogue.”
Darcy hurried in. “Ram,” she said softly, her hand going to his face. “You just do this to piss off Axel, yeah?”
Ram’s mouth twitched. “Make him share his witch.”
Axel said, “Heal him, Darce, so I can kick his ass.”
Key said, “Got a bleeder here, Darcy.”
“Okay, let’s do this. Axel, I need your knife and blood.”
Axel handed her the knife and looked at Phoenix and Key. “Go. Find them.”
“We’re on it,” Phoenix said.
“Shit,” Phoenix said as they entered the house of a recruit. “Copper and witch blood.”
“Dead witch blood.” Key came in from the back of the house. They found the recruit in his bedroom on his bed. The witch was dumped on the floor.
Both were dead.
“Second one,” Key said, his gray-eyed gaze sweeping over the room as if it were a painting. “This is a statement. A murderous rendering of what will happen to witch hunters who don’t go rogue and join the Rogue Cadre—they will be killed.”
Phoenix paid attention. Key’s artistic nature was deeply embedded in violence. He could read a scene of violence better than any cop. At just a hair over six feet, with his short, spiky blond hair, dimples, and loose-jointed movement, he looked as though he belonged on a surfboard, not ankle-deep in blood. Phoenix knew better. After Key ran away from home, his father had sent a rogue to kill him.
Key had killed the man, sketched the carnage, and sent the drawing to his father, along with sketches of their deaths if they kept coming after him.
“They are trying to turn them with the witch blood.” Key spoke in a voice devoid of interest as he pointed to the witch on the floor, drained of blood.
So many cuts … and worse. Phoenix’s blood ran a little hot at the sight. His skin tingled, wanting all that powerful blood. Disgust at himself just added to the mixture brewing in his gut.
Key went on, “The hunter on the bed was shot in the legs and crippled so he couldn’t escape. Then witch blood was dumped on him.”
Phoenix moved over to the bed and studied the knife sticking out of his chest. He recognized it. “The blade belongs to him. He killed himself rather than go rogue.” He stood up and turned to find Key staring down at the dead witch. His hands opened and closed reflexively. His black muscle shirt shifted over his chest as if the dragon tattoo were moving. “Key …” Phoenix walked closer.
The man looked up. “If I killed witches, would I draw with their blood?” He dropped his gaze back to the witch. “I think I would.”
Key was caught, the curse working him like a seduction. Phoenix moved fast and shoved him hard, knocking him a couple steps toward the door. Following, he roared, “Can’t draw if you’re dead. You kill a witch and I’ll kill you myself and cut off your hands just to make sure.” Key had a dread of losing his ability to draw. His art helped him vent the internal rage.
The haze of lust receded in his eyes, and the shifting of the dragon beneath his shirt stopped. He sucked in a breath and said, “That’d make a statement. Hell, that’d be downright artistic.”
Relief eased his chest. “Fuck you, I’m no pansy artist.” Phoenix got back to work as he looked around the room, careful to keep his body between Key and the dead witch. “This is organized. Planned. Efficient. The rogues killed the four recruits that had the outlines of their wings and were waiting for their test to be accepted by the Wing Slayer.”
“And they went after Ram, the one who oversees their training.”
Phoenix snapped his gaze around. “Where will they go next?”
Key jerked with the realization. “Eli. I’m going to outline his wings as soon as he chooses what he wants.”
Phoenix turned and launched into high speed to reach his motorcycle. He could get there faster on his bike, and Key would catch up in his truck. He knew where Eli lived. He fired up the R6 and whipped through the city, winding around cars and pedestrians until he got into the neighborhood where Eli lived with his sister.
Christ, his sister!
Phoenix parked his bike a few houses down. The street was quiet; most people had gone to work. Going invisible, he ran toward the house. It was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence and shrubs. He grabbed the top of the fence and leaped over.
He heard the deep roar of an angry male. Inhaling, he caught the scent of copper, indicating a rogue was nearby. He went to the front window, but the living room was empty. He made his way into the back, leaping over another fence.
He passed a kitchen window and stopped at a sliding glass door.
Inside was a nightmare. Eli was on a chair, both legs bleeding. He wore shorts and athletic shoes, as though he’d been out running. Now both massive thighs had ugly gunshot holes in them and blood pouring out.
His chest had smears of blood.
On the floor at his feet lay a witch. Her mouth was taped, her clothes torn off, and there were cuts everywhere. Her witch-shimmer had huge red holes burning in it. Pity, rage, and bloodlust mixed in his gut.
Tully stood over her, holding out the dripping knife to Eli. “Kill her.”
Eli’s powerful chest rippled, his biceps twisted, and he had his hands clenched around the sides of the chair. “Let Ginny go.”
Shifting his gaze to the right, Phoenix saw Ginny with her back to the refrigerator, her arms pulled tight behind her. She was either cuffed or tied to the door handles. Her mouth was taped, her eyes red and leaking tears. She had on a green tank top, jeans, and tennis shoes. Chaz, who towered over her by almost a foot, sliced her tank top up the front. “Take your time deciding, Eli. Your sister is hot.” The slimy prick then shoved the tip of the knife under the front clasp of her bra.
Blood welled up and trailed down between her ribs.
Chaz sliced the bra.
The impossible choice enraged him: If Eli killed the witch, he’d lose his soul and go rogue. If he didn’t kill her, they’d rape and kill his sister. Phoenix wasn’t going to let that happen. He tested the sliding glass door, found it unlocked, then palmed his knife in his right hand and coiled the long chain around his left.
Eli bellowed, “Get away from her! I’ll kill you, I’ll cut your balls off and—”
Phoenix shoved open the sliding glass door with his knife hand. He materialized to fight, and as Chaz turned away from Ginny, he threw the knife.
It hit the center of his chest. The blond man sputtered, dropping his knife to grab the hilt of the blade in his chest. Phoenix figured he’d be dead in seconds and turned to the other rogue.
Tully had his gun up and fired.
He dived forward, feeling the bullet slice the air by his ear. As soon as he hit the tiled floor with his shoulder, he tucked into a front roll. He snatched his second knife from his boot as he came up to his feet.
Tully turned the gun on him.
Phoenix snapped his chain, and the thick links coiled around the rogue’s gun hand so hard that it caused the weap
on to drop from his nerveless fingers.
“Behind you!” Eli screamed.
Holding the chain, he spun around. Chaz lay on the floor with the knife in his chest and a two-handed grip on a small gun. What the hell? Direct hits to the heart killed witch hunters. He should be dead. Phoenix threw his remaining knife, hitting the bastard in the throat. The gun clattered to the floor.
He whirled back around in time to see that the witch had put her hand over the gun that had fallen from Tully. The rogue kicked her in the side so hard, it lifted her body off the ground. She made horrible gagging sounds behind the tape.
Tully scooped the gun off the floor, brought it up with a dead perfect aim to Phoenix’s heart, and fired.
There was a hollow click. Nothing happened. In that second, Phoenix felt the magic. The witch had jammed the gun.
Phoenix smiled. Then he dropped the chain and spun into a roundhouse kick to the bastard’s face. As the rogue flew into a wall, Phoenix grabbed a knife off the ground, stalked after the murderous traitor, and stabbed him straight through to the heart.
Tully blinked in shock, then said, “Won’t die. Won’t. Young swore the witch blood was enhanced.…”
A strange chill raced down Phoenix’s spine, and he twisted the knife hard until he was sure the heart was shredded and the rogue was on his way to eternity as a shade.
Phoenix had showered, scrubbing off the lingering scent of witch blood. But the craving was there, slithering through his veins, making him more and more edgy. He strode down the stairs and into the cavernous warehouse located next to Axel’s club. The Wing Slayer Hunters used it as a headquarters.
It smelled like wet concrete, sweat, coffee, and musky pheromones. His boots rang out on the cement floor. Just ahead was the pool table that sat in the center. On the left was a high-end computer about the size of a small bedroom. The corner wall had security monitors showing them the surrounding area outside, the interior of the club, and anything else they desired. There were several flat-paneled computer screens and all the equipment any tech geek could want. Sutton sat in his customary roller chair, doing his electronic wizard stuff.
Axel leaned against the L-shaped desk, drinking coffee as he watched.
Next to that was their sitting area, which comprised a leather couch and chairs. Phoenix went to the coffeepot sitting on the table next to the small fridge and poured some java for himself. He preferred his fresh-ground coffee, but this wasn’t bad.
He glanced up to see Key at his drafting table. He’d showered, put on a muscle shirt and jeans. His hand was flying over paper, his face shadowed as he worked. Pinned on the wall over his board were drawings by his favorite little girl, Hannah. She was Axel’s four-year-old sister. But right now, Key was in his zone, in the place where no one dared interrupt him when he was drawing out his rage, the killing violence that lived inside him.
Phoenix poured a second cup of coffee, added some sugar, and walked to Key’s area. He set the coffee into the holder at the top of the drawing board and moved away. Key heard them, but he needed to draw. Needed to spill out the venom inside him.
Across from Key was the partitioned-off weight room. That was empty right now.
“Sutton.”
Phoenix recognized Linc’s voice. He was their newest Wing Slayer Hunter.
Sutton answered, “You’re on the screen, Linc. Axel, Phoenix, and Key are here with me.”
Phoenix walked over to the screen. Lincoln Dillinger reminded him of a feral lion hiding in a man’s skin. He was cut and styled to perfection, draped in expensive clothes, lived for his next high-stakes bet, and could charm a nun out of her robe. But there was one thing he couldn’t hide—his keen gold eyes, as though a lion lived in that man ready to burst out in a ferocious attack.
Linc said, “Eli’s sleeping. Told him I’d stay while he rests and heals. Don’t want to leave Ginny unprotected.”
Phoenix tasted the hot rage in his throat. The memory of her tied to the fridge, being tormented to force Eli to go rogue. That was the kind of animals rogues were—they used women like Ginny. If he hadn’t gotten there in time, Eli would have given up his soul for his sister.
“Stay there, just keep in touch,” Axel said, his voice harsh with the same anger.
Sutton added, “I’ve activated all the alarms and the security cameras on the place.”
Linc said, “Axel, was this Eli’s test?”
The question surprised them all. Linc was the first of the new recruits to get his wings and join the original five of Axel, Sutton, Phoenix, Key, and Ram. Key had tattooed the outline of wings, signaling to their Wing Slayer god that this was their candidate. Then there would be a test. No one knew what it would be until it happened. When it happened, Axel, as the hawk, recognized it. If the candidate pleased the Wing Slayer, then they had the Induction Ceremony. It hadn’t occurred to Phoenix that this could be Eli’s test.
Axel broke the thick silence with his answer. “No. He doesn’t have the outline of his wings yet.”
Linc’s eyes heated, but all he said was “You know where I am. Later.”
“Wait,” Phoenix said. “You should hear this, too. Something one of the rogues, Tully, said as he died: Young swore the witch blood was enhanced.” He saw Darcy and Carla walk in as he added, “He seemed to think he couldn’t die.”
Carla stopped by Sutton. “Because of the witch blood? Like it was stronger, enhanced, and if he absorbed enough, he wouldn’t die?”
“That’s the impression I got. He was shocked that I could kill him. I had to work at it.” He explained how both rogues had been harder than usual to kill.
Carla looked at Darcy. “We haven’t heard anything about this.”
Darcy sat in one of the chairs, her eyes thoughtful. “We were tied up with Morgan and Ram, so I had Axel take the witch Tully and Chad had cut up to some other witches. They thought they would need extra power from the Circle Witches to heal her, but it turned out to be easier than they thought.”
Phoenix felt that deep in his chest. “They had more power than usual.”
Carla said, “But they also had the will and desire, too. They saw how badly she was hurt. Could be their chakras responded just from their sympathy.”
He had to tell them. “I don’t think so.”
Axel moved to sit on the arm of Darcy’s chair. “This have something to do with the witch voice in your head?”
Phoenix explained as much as he knew about Ailish. “She calls it her voice power,” he added, dropping into the chair across from Darcy.
Axel looked down at Darcy. “Have you felt like you have more power?”
“It’s harder for Carla and me to judge because our power has grown so quickly since we completed the soul-mirror bond. Now that you and Sutton act as our familiars and we can access our high magic in our top three chakras, our magic isn’t finite or measurable.”
“You were able to heal Ram.”
She put her hand on his thigh. “Yeah, but that was pretty straightforward, and his enhanced witch hunter biology helped, too. We’re having a harder time helping Morgan.”
Phoenix straightened and set his coffee cup on a nearby table. “What is happening with her? She’d been doing great before this. I thought the pregnancy hormones were helping her in spite of what Eric did to her.”
“She’s remarkable,” Carla said, her hazel eyes sincere but troubled. “But given the extreme reactions she’s having, I think that Eric may have buried some orders deep in her brain and they are trying to surface.” Carla specialized in helping mortal women who’d been indoctrinated into cults, so she understood brainwashing.
Key strode up, holding his coffee. The dark violence was banked now, his eyes more blue than gray, his face relaxed. “Can you find the buried orders and do whatever you do?”
“Morgan seems to be fighting to keep the order from surfacing. I’ve tried straight hypnosis, but I can’t get to it.”
Sutton rolled his chair over to the group. “Wh
at about the astral plane, Carly? Can you take her there? She’d feel safer.”
Carla shook her head. “She’s too far along in her pregnancy. The baby’s spirit is beginning to separate from his mom. If I pull Morgan from her body, and the baby doesn’t come, he may panic and send her body into labor. That’s just one scenario.”
Linc had been quietly listening on the screen, but now he said, “Wait, Morgan will actually leave her body? I thought it was just a state of mind, like meditation.”
Carla turned to look up at the screen. “The astral plane is another realm of existence. It’s real. To go there, Morgan’s spirit will leave her body and then form a doppelgänger body on the astral plane. While she’s there, she won’t know what’s happening to her body here on this plane. Her baby will know she’s gone.”
“So what can you do to help Morgan?” Phoenix liked the woman, admired her. He and Joe were friends. Even though Joe wasn’t the father of the baby, the man loved Morgan and would be devastated if she lost her child. The grief would kill Morgan.
Darcy said, “We’re surrounding her with calming energy, and we’re gently prodding, looking for the buried order in her memories. But it’s not enough.” She looked tired. Axel settled his arm around her shoulders and stroked her upper arm. Darcy added, “We’re going to have to try something more invasive and risky if we can’t find the order this way.”
“What?” Key leaned against the pool table.
“I’ll try to reach the baby’s spirit and keep him calm, while Carla takes Morgan to the astral plane and finds the memory. It’ll be traumatic, and take a lot of power to try and keep the baby feeling safe without his mom.”
“Can the Circle Witches help?” Phoenix asked.
“They are split on the idea. We’re working on it,” Carla said.
Darcy’s brown eyes glittered with anger. “Silver, that bitch. She’s so furious that the Ancestors chose Carla as the Moon Witch Advisor that she’s doing everything she can to undermine her.”
“To be fair,” Carla broke in. “Silver created the Circle Witches, and she feels like she’s losing control to us soul-mirror witches. She desperately wanted the Moon Witch Advisor position to reestablish some of her authority. And we can’t forget that she still has significant influence with many of the witches in the group.”
Night Magic: A Wing Slayer Novel Page 6
