by Anna Abner
Connor snorted. “That’s not the worst thing that could happen, and you know it. We honestly don’t know the depth of a powerful witch’s spell book. These women could literally do anything to us. Erase our memories? Curse us with death like they did to Violet? Make us believe we’re donkeys? Who knows what they’re capable of?”
Ali rolled her eyes. “You really think they’ll turn us all into farm animals?”
“No,” Connor countered, “I said they could make us think we were animals. They could make us believe anything.”
“That could be a little dangerous for some of us,” Lukas reminded them from the laptop screen. “I need to be in control. All the time, one hundred percent. I have to stay behind on this one.”
There was silence and perhaps they all waited for her to reassure them, but Roz didn’t look up from the water ring.
“Exactly,” Connor exclaimed. “We need to take a couple days to process what this means and what the repercussions will be. If we go in there, will we have witches trying to kill us in retaliation the rest of our lives? Is there such a thing as a smooth transition of power in the Coven?”
Lukas’s voice rose to match Connor’s. “If we wait, they have more chances to see us coming. They control the Oracle. The longer we sit around searching the Internet, the more danger we put Roz in. We either go in now, strong, or we don’t go in at all.”
“Don’t go in at all?” Connor exclaimed. “Are you crazy? And waste this opportunity? You think chances to take over one of the most powerful religious organizations in the world come along everyday?”
Lukas’ voice rose to match Connor’s. “What is it with you and power?”
“Enough.” Roz slammed her hand upon the table, obscuring the watermark. All eyes turned on her. “I’m going in first thing in the morning. And I’m going in alone.”
#
After Roz’s big announcement, Connor and Lukas had shouted a bunch of macho stuff and Maks had grown bored. Instead, he turned his attention on Violet. She looked beautiful—porcelain and fragile—but tired. He quirked an eyebrow and indicated the exit with a tilt of his head.
Nodding, Violet rose with Jackson in her arms, and excused herself. Maks silently followed her a moment later into the hall and through the door to her suite.
He closed himself into Violet’s bedroom, kicked off his shoes, and dropped onto the plush mattress with a deep sigh at finally being alone with her. “Do you think the little witch can handle the Coven?”
“She seems capable of anything,” Violet said as she laid Jackson down for a nap.
He watched her, thinking she was finally beyond him now. She was a free woman and no longer under any curses or spells.
“Have you started packing yet?” he asked. Best to rip the bandage. He couldn’t take the weighted silence, the anticipation.
“Packing?”
He sat up, but couldn’t hold her gaze. “It’s time for you to go home, Violet.” Her parents were expecting her. He’d promised them a week, after all.
A long silence tortured him, though he didn’t move. And he didn’t make a sound of protest.
“Is that what you want?” she finally asked.
“You should want to go.”
“Let’s not start this again,” she said with frustration in her tone. “I’m exhausted from the flight, and I’m not up to sparring with you.”
She slipped into the kitchen, and he immediately followed. He didn’t speak, though. His slick and charming wit had deserted him. Or maybe it was simply her muting him.
“I’m not sparring with you,” he argued. “I’m hoping you’ll see sense. Take your child and go live a normal life.”
Violet reached the fridge and spun, startling him, her eyes glowing with emotion. “I’m going to level with you. I’m going to lay it all out on the table. I’m falling in love with you, Maksim Volk, and I want to stay. I want to be with you, or at least give us a chance. There,” she said abruptly, “that’s the complete truth. Now, your turn.”
He scowled, furious at her for even mentioning the L word. He opened his mouth to shout I want you to go. But the words wouldn’t come.
“Tell me the truth,” Violet pushed. “No excuses. No anxieties. No should-do’s. The truth. What do you want?”
Emotions rose up, and Maks swallowed thickly, trying in vain to squash them. This wasn’t fair. He was trying to protect her, couldn’t she see that? He blinked, and his eyes filmed over with unshed tears. Goddamnit.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.” It had never mattered. He hadn’t wanted to be a vampire. He hadn’t wanted to participate in Oleksander’s psychotic murder spree. He hadn’t wanted to be a guinea pig in a lab of horrors.
What he wanted didn’t even come into play.
“It matters to me.” Her voice was miniscule. As he watched, her body seemed to shrink in on itself in small ways. Her arms wrapped around her ribs, and her shoulders curved. He was losing her. Another cutting remark or two and she’d leave.
Forever.
Maks teetered on the edge of an abyss. Connor and Ali didn’t need or want him around. Without Violet and Jackson here to lend him sympathy, they’d find a way to send him off somewhere. Some bogus mission to Siberia. He’d be alone. More alone than he’d ever been.
But it wasn’t the loneliness that terrified him. It was the absence of Violet. He hadn’t fully realized until this moment, with her departure so close, how much he cared for her.
The amber-eyed ragamuffin had been thrust into his life without his consent or control, and somehow she’d become precious to him in a hundred different ways. She claimed she felt safe with him? Ironically, he felt safe with her.
He knew in his deepest recesses—she would never hurt him, never cut him down, and never make him feel worthless. On the contrary, Violet made him feel strong and secure in a way he hadn’t since Katya. She was a treasure he couldn’t afford to lose.
“Maks?” Violet’s chin wobbled fractionally.
He was losing her.
He blinked furiously through a film of moisture. “Violet, I have done,” he choked up, part afraid and part disgusted, “unforgivable things.”
“It wasn’t you. The infection—”
“But it was me. I was there, conscious and in control. It was me—unleashed.”
“It’s not your fault.”
She looked so innocent, trying to convince him not to feel badly about the murders, indignities, and torture. How could she see anything redeemable in him at all? He was black and charred to the core. There was nothing left to save.
“I can’t forget,” he said, unable to meet her eyes, but equally unable to stop the impulse to confess. He was crying and didn’t even know when he’d started. He wiped at the tears. God, he was pathetic. “It was me. I did it, and I enjoyed it. How can I ever get beyond that?”
“Somehow, you must.” She touched his hand. “Your brain was corrupted by the infection. You weren’t yourself. Surely, you must see that?”
He shook his head. “I never felt corrupted. I felt liberated.”
“Do you wish you could,” she blinked rapidly, “bite and kill people now?”
“No.” He could see where she was going. “But …” Perhaps she was right, in some small way. If he hadn’t been infected, he never would’ve murdered and plundered and done it with unrestrained glee.
“I forgive you.” She squeezed his hand.
Here come the fucking waterworks. He bowed his head and cried silently. And it burned. Because nothing was fair. He had never asked to become a monster, a fiend from fairy tales. Olek had changed him against his will, encouraged his lechery. He’d never had a choice.
She came nearer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her pear blossom scent and her silken hair enveloped him. She didn’t deserve him and his mess of an existence. She shouldn’t have to deal with this. But he couldn’t make himself walk out, never to return. Instead, he found himself hugging her back, burying his head
against her shoulder, weeping all over her blouse. If someone as sweet and innocent and human as Violet could have faith in him, maybe there was hope.
He had so much to make up for…
“I want you to stay,” he said desperately. “Violet, I want you here.”
The suite door opened, and Maks knew it was Ali without even looking.
“Sorry,” she said, turning to escape. “I heard shouting.”
“Don’t go,” Violet told her. “Please.”
Maks choked on a sob, clinging to Violet as if she was a lifeline in a choppy sea.
“What happened?” Ali’s scent grew stronger as she approached.
Violet said in a bit of a huff, “Ali, enough screwing around. Maks is your father and he loves you. Please stop avoiding him. He’s been abused for years, and he needs to feel genuine caring and unconditional love from the people around him.”
Maks dropped under the eruption of emotion, falling to his knees. Violet went down with him, keeping him tight to her chest. Then there were other hands touching him, embracing him. After a beat, Ali laid her head between his shoulder blades and hugged him.
It was then that Maks shattered. He sobbed, losing himself in the agony of grief.
#
By the time Ali left Maks and Violet, her father was exhausted and Violet was urging him into bed. Sensing her cue, Ali slipped away into her own bedroom down the hall and immediately called Connor.
“You look like a wreck,” he greeted when his face appeared on her phone’s screen. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she assured, finger-combing her blonde hair into place. “Maks had a bit of a break-down and I wanted to…” What had she wanted? The teenager with the tar-black hair was not her father, and yet he was. It was enough to confuse anyone. “Reassure him,” Ali finished.
“What is up with that guy?” Connor asked, a frustrated tone to his voice. “I can’t make him out, and it fucking annoys me.”
“I’m not sure he knows who he is anymore,” Ali admitted. “But he’s trying. And that’s something we should encourage.”
Connor cursed loudly. “I’ve seen him with Violet, Jackson, and Mercy. And you,” he added. “He’s kind and caring. But I’ve also seen him vicious and cruel. I’m just worried he could flip back and forth at will, and we’ll never know when his final attack will happen.”
Ali thought back to Maks sobbing on his knees. “I trust him,” she blurted out. “I think this is the real Maks, and we need to support him so he won’t ever go back to the monster he was under Olek.”
“Well,” Connor said, shifting and leaving the screen momentarily, “I trust you. So, I’ll give him a chance, but just know I’m keeping both eyes on him at all times. I don’t trust him, and I really don’t know what he could say or do to change my mind.”
“Okay. Fair enough.” She studied him carefully. Since his fall, he’d been different. At first, it had been a renewed thirst for her blood. And she’d gladly fed him, but he kept taking more. Even after he was fully healed, he continued drinking greedily. On top of that, his temper was always near the surface. Her sweet man had become an unpredictable presence. She worried about him so much she couldn’t sleep most nights.
“How’s Lukas and how are the pits?” she asked, evading the questions she really wanted answered.
Connor’s gaze dropped, and it was his turn to look exhausted. “It’s like boot camp. We’re running every day, working out on obstacle courses, tracking, shooting, you name it. I think they’ll be ready for an actual hunt soon.”
“I’ll know they’re ready,” Ali said, “when you can take them somewhere public.”
“Why would I do that?” Connor snapped. “I still can’t sleep fully with them under the same roof.”
Ali continued as if his tone wasn’t distressing her. What happened to you? Why are you so angry all of a sudden? “What about Mercy?”
“She stopped hurting herself,” Connor said. “She actually joins the group for PT, but she prefers to be alone.”
“Understandable,” Ali murmured.
“You were there in the Ukraine,” he prompted. “What’s your take on Svetlana?”
Oh, where to begin? “She’s a bit mad,” she said, “like the Oracle. But she helped us without asking for anything in return. She’s the first witch I’ve met, besides Roz, who helps people, even if she is hiding out from her own followers. But I’m worried about Roz.”
“Why?”
“I know she can handle herself,” Ali tried to explain, “but her control flickers under stress. And what’s more stressful than storming the Coven tower alone?”
There was silence, and then Connor said, “Hey, enough shop talk. What are you wearing?”
Chuckling, Ali pushed aside her worries at the sight of his smile and flashed him her clothing. “Quite a lot, actually. I wouldn’t mind losing a layer or two.”
“That’s right,” Connor teased. “You know what your British accent does to me.”
#
Across the hall of the fifty-first floor, Roz lay in bed, her unblinking eyes trained on the ceiling. Tomorrow, she’d either be leader of the Coven or dead. She couldn’t imagine any alternate scenario.
If she entered the tower with conquest in her heart, after she’d killed Marta and witnessed Sara’s death, there would be no stopping the Coven witches from decimating her. The only hope Roz had of surviving was Svetlana’s spell.
To use it, Roz had to believe she was the most powerful spellspeaker in the room. No, more than that. She had to be the most powerful spellspeaker in the room.
But being rejected by the Coven at eighteen had done a number on her confidence. It had taken years and Lukas’ support to finally move beyond the rejection.
Still, she wouldn’t say she was overflowing with confidence. Yeah, she could whip up some power and let loose a storm of magical energy—when required—but the most powerful?
She called her power, bringing a mini tornado of invisible wind and energy into the room. Her sheets ruffled and her hair tangled around her face.
Roz pushed it further. And further.
The room vibrated, rattling picture frames and toiletries on the sink.
She brought up as much energy from her body as she ever had. So much, she knew without looking that her eyes glowed neon blue and her hair floated as if gravity no longer applied to her.
“Protect these rooms and these people from harmful magic,” she whispered, her words sliding out from between her lips as squiggles of light. She pictured her magic permeating the walls, ceilings, and floors. “Even after I’m gone, protect my team and our home.”
#
Early the next morning, Roz stood in front of the closet-sized safe that housed their arsenal and stared unseeing at pistols, rifles, grenades, and a flamethrower. She wouldn’t bring any of it. None of it would help her do what needed to be done. Everything she could count on lived inside her. Only not that long ago she’d been barely functioning. What if her nerves got the better of her and she couldn’t access her power? What if the moment she stepped onto Coven property, Heather Connelly killed her?
“Are you sure about this?” Ali asked, coming up behind her with a cup of coffee.
No, Roz thought. She definitely was not sure about this. “Yes,” she said. “The more I think about it, the more I know the First Witch was right. Why was I given power if I wasn’t supposed to use it?”
Ali offered her the coffee, but Roz waved it away. Her stomach was too upset.
“Fair enough,” Ali said, “but if you get in a tight spot, we won’t be able to help. God knows what tricks they have up their sleeves.” She looked truly concerned, and Roz patted her bicep softly.
“The First Witch told me what to do. I’m going to trust her.” She went to the door, checking that she had her room key and a little cash for a cab.
“Good luck,” Ali said, and she sounded like she meant it.
“And if you see Caitlyn,” Ali
called on her way out, “say hi for me.”
She doubted the Oracle actually lived in the Coven tower, but there were a lot of mysteries soon to be solved where her race of supernaturals was concerned.
She rode the elevator into the parking garage, and then waved down a taxi from the street in front of the hotel. “The Coven tower,” she instructed the male driver.
Ten minutes later, she stepped out, paid for the ride, and stopped to stare at the glass-walled tower over the roof of the cab. It reflected the occasional puff of white cloud in the otherwise blue sky.
Did they see her already? Had the Oracle warned them of her arrival? Had they planned an attack for the second she stepped through their doors?
Too late to quit now. Shoulders back, she crossed the street and swept through the wide glass doors. Only the receptionist sat behind her desk at the far side of the cavernous foyer. Roz marched across what seemed like miles of Italian marble, her combat boots thudding softly.
“Oh, shit,” the receptionist exclaimed before diving for the phone. “I’m calling security.”
Now or never. Maybe the lady wasn’t even a witch. Maybe she was a human temp. Maybe the spell the First Witch had taught Roz was a joke, and she’d look like a humongous tool. Whatever the case, she’d come all the way down here trusting Svetlana. She may as well get started.
Calling her power and pushing it into the danger zone, she let the magic whirl through her. Then she thrust it even further.
“Kneel,” Roz demanded.
The receptionist disappeared. Roz lifted up on her toes to see over the high, curved counter. On the other side, the blonde was on both knees, her perfectly coiffed head bowed.
Had she killed her? Was she in a trance? “Can you hear me?” Roz whispered.
“Of course I can hear you,” she snapped, her head popping up to stare furiously. “You proved your power’s stronger than mine, you didn’t knock me out. I can hear you, see you, hate that ridiculous belt you’re wearing. What statement is it making? ‘I’m a giant nerd?’ Are nerds still cool?”
“Okay, okay.” Roz rolled her eyes. “I can make you kneel, but not even magic will make you shut up.”
