Witch Hunt

by Layla Nash

  “There was none,” she said, and clamped her lips together for a long moment as she struggled not to laugh at him. The witch shrugged and rubbed at her eyes, no longer looking quite so asleep. “It was just to get back at you for being such a dick.”

  He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled but also high five her for a prank well played. He could respect that, even if he’d taste that sludge for the rest of his fucking life. Evershaw grumbled, unwilling to admit she’d gotten him pretty good, and folded his arms over his chest. “Right. Turnabout is fair play, witch.”

  The witch smiled very briefly, then turned pensive once more. “I should have thought of this sooner, but I don’t fully understand how you animals do whatever it is you do to turn into your other side. Your advanced healing properties kept you alive, certainly, but I wonder if you would be as affected if you turned into the wolf and then back.”

  He sure as fuck didn’t like being called an animal. But it was an intriguing idea. “I don’t know. Are wolves affected by the poison the same way?”

  “I don’t know.” She blinked.

  For a long moment, they stared at each other. Evershaw snorted and shook his head. “Why the fuck not. Let’s give it a shot.”

  She sat up, alarmed, but Evershaw curled in on himself and let the wolf loose. Muscles tore and bones broke, and the bright flash of pain from the transformation eliminated the slight twitchiness and tingling that remained from the poison or the venom. He shook himself and jumped onto the bed, sneezing, and waited to be paralyzed or knocked out from the bad shit still in his blood.

  Nothing happened.

  He sneezed again and looked at the witch. He didn’t know what he’d expected from her, but it wasn’t the shock and revulsion on her face. She’d curled up even more in the chair, huddling away from him, as she stared at him with wide eyes. The witch even looked a little green around the gills.

  Maybe she’d never seen a shifter shift before. It could be pretty gross to watch, but that wasn’t any reason for her lip to curl and her nose to wrinkle and her to look so fucking…disgusted.

  He shifted back and turned away, uninterested in whatever it was that caused her expression. “I’m not dead. You can sleep in one of the rooms across the way.”

  Uppity fucking witch. Even if she’d saved his life, she couldn’t call him an animal and sit there judging him. He didn’t even care that he was completely buck-ass naked and she got a good view of his ass as he strode into the bathroom. Evershaw heard her fumbling around and then scurrying out of there, the door closing behind her, and he waited until he was sure she’d left to stagger back to bed and flop onto the cool sheets.

  She wasn’t there, but he could still smell her in the air and in the sheets and even on his own skin. It set his teeth on edge, and it was a long damn time until he could sleep.

  Chapter 20

  Deirdre

  There was nothing like getting woken up from a deep sleep by a handsome, shirtless man with rumpled bed head and some five o’clock shadow and a terribly attractive scowl. It didn’t even matter that he was a total asshole. He looked just sleepy enough for me to almost forget the way he’d spoken to me and everyone else. Although it was pretty awesome to see him chug a shitload of herby soup that Mercy had distilled.

  But I was in no way prepared for him changing his shape. It was like the time I went to a traveling exhibit at the museum and they had an installment of seeing-inside-bodies that had cross-sections of a cow. There were brief flashes of pink muscle and red blood and yellow-white bone, and all of it mixed together and inside out until a giant wolf stood on the bed instead of a man.

  My stomach unbalanced and I struggled to not barf all over myself and his room, and it didn’t help that he almost immediately changed back. The room tilted around me and I went cold and sweaty all over as adrenaline surged. I saw his lips moving but almost didn’t hear him over the rushing noise in my ears. Holy shit. He just—turned inside out. And then right-side out again.

  He said something about the rooms across the hall, so I bolted. As unnerving as it was to watch him peel off his skin, it was almost worse to confront one of the finest asses I’d ever seen in real life or in movies. And he had one of those muscular backs and set of shoulders that meant he could probably bench-press a Buick, all of it flexed in irritation and decorated with some interesting tattoos.

  I fled to save my dignity and my stomach, and tripped over someone sprawled across the threshold of the door before I’d gotten three steps into the living room. Henry sat up immediately, blinking and snorting. “Wha?”

  The darkness of the living room hid how many pack members still waited for their alpha’s recovery, but the cacophony of snores revealed it was definitely at least three and possibly more, not counting Henry. I patted Henry’s head and picked my way more carefully toward one of the undisturbed guest rooms we’d searched earlier in the day. “It’s fine. He’s fine. I’m going to sleep in the room with the blue bedspread.”

  “Oh. Cool.” Henry collapsed back against the floor and immediately started snoring in near harmony with the others. I rolled my eyes and tiptoed to the guest room.

  I took a little more time to explore when I could finally turn on the light and confirm that none of the pack had taken over the room. No one else had claimed the bed, although it seemed strange that they’d rather sleep on the floor of the living room rather than in a bed. Those shifters were very strange creatures. It felt like I stormed into a minefield of etiquette faux pas without knowing they were even there, much less how to find them. I dragged myself into the bathroom after I discovered the dresser drawers were filled with spare clothes, much like the guest quarters I’d been in before.

  I tried not to think about being away from Cricket for a second night. Maybe I could find a phone or a computer or something, so I could call Estelle and at least ask her to feed the cat while I was away. She’d have all kinds of questions about where I was and why I hadn’t planned for someone to look after the house and cat, and then I’d probably get a lecture about responsibility and all that jazz.

  A hot shower helped clear my head and relaxed some of the tension out of my shoulders. At least the hot water didn’t run out after thirteen minutes, like at my house. There was plenty of name-brand shampoo and body wash and even those natural loofahs they only sold in fancy-ass boutique stores. Which just added to the mystery. Why did Evershaw have such a fully-stocked guest room if he never had any guests? Surely it would have made more sense to only add the toiletries when he knew there would be someone staying there.

  I chalked it up to those weird shifter rules, and instead just enjoyed the plush towels and what seemed to be a heated floor. Who even did that? Only movie stars had heated floors. A pack of wolves in a converted warehouse definitely didn’t have heated floors, much less heated floors in a random guest room that no one had ever touched. Such a weird place. Such a weird guy.

  At least the guest room was silent and still, and the rest of the tension in my muscles dissipated slowly as I padded around in a fresh pair of socks. A giant T-shirt made a fantastic nightshirt over a slightly too-large pair of yoga pants from the back of the bottom drawer, and I dragged another blanket out of the closet so I could throw it over the bedspread. Maybe it was a thing with the shifters, but everywhere was cold. I even wrapped my wet hair back up in a dry towel so I wouldn’t spend the whole night freezing.

  And then, of course, I couldn’t sleep. I paced and wandered around, counting my steps, and finally just stared at the ceiling and hoped exhaustion would take over. It didn’t. The hours ticked by in a steady crawl that set my teeth on edge, but not even meditation helped silence the thoughts racing through my mind.

  I had to save Evershaw to save myself, because it was clear that whoever wanted him dead really wanted him dead. They used belladonna the first time, and when that wasn’t enough, they added the rattlesnake venom in some manner. I still hadn’t figured out how they’d managed that. He hadn�
��t been bitten, clearly, and yet they still got a neurotoxin in him. All through the car. I rubbed my temples and squeezed my eyes shut as I exhaled and searched for inspiration. If I wanted to kill Evershaw, how would I do it?

  The thought made me snort and shake my head like a loon in the darkness. I’d hex his ass and have done with it. Why mess around with poison? Whoever it was didn’t feel strong enough or brave enough to confront him head-on, so they resorted to one of the quieter means of disposing of an enemy. It didn’t seem like it would be one of the other groups of shifters, then, since they’d all been very upfront and in-your-face in every interaction I’d witnessed.

  Maybe there were a bunch of foxes or opossums or other creeping creatures who preferred to work in the night. Or maybe they weren’t shifters. There were certainly witches in the city, and the ErlKing, and potentially other magical or supernatural beasts. I’d seen one of them when I went to Smith’s house to free him, as there was a woman who wasn’t actually a woman standing with one of the male shifters. She definitely wasn’t a witch but she wasn’t an animal; I hadn’t figured out what she was, mostly because it wasn’t my business unless she decided to tell me herself.

  That was one of the first rules of magic—if it wasn’t your business, never make it your business unless you also want all the possible trouble along with it.

  Perhaps the poisoner had some other talents. They’d said a djinn helped imprison Smith in the Betwixt, and I’d caught just a whiff of the djinn as I freed Smith and the other man along with him, as the djinn left his fingerprints on the human. But I’d neither seen nor heard a whisper of the djinn since then. And poison didn’t seem that much like a djinn, from what I’d read after learning the one intended to stay in the city.

  I groaned and covered my face. I needed to sleep. I’d expended so much energy keeping Evershaw from dying that I should have fallen right into dreams, but instead, I couldn’t stop thinking about that insufferable man and his exceptionally fine body. Who’d kidnapped me and held me hostage.

  I pulled the pillow over my face and refused to think about him. As soon as they figured out who was trying to kill him, Evershaw would release me and I’d go back to my life, just as he’d go back to his. My normal life. The thought gave me pause. As annoying as the last two days had been, I’d found plenty of things to be jealous of in the pack. They all cared for each other, even as mismatched as they all seemed to be. And everyone had been willing to do whatever it took to save their alpha, even when that meant capturing me as I hexed the shit out of everyone I could reach. They’d done it without hesitation.

  There was something to be said for the loyalty of a pack. It certainly didn’t translate to the way a coven worked.

  The window drapes began to lighten as the sun rose, and I was no closer to sleep than I’d been when I first lay down. I threw the covers back and got up, since there wasn’t much use lying about when I wouldn’t get any rest. Instead I went to the window and peered out at the city just as the sun broke the horizon far away in the east and sent beams and tendrils of light through the various buildings. It had been a long time since I watched the sunrise without having something to do immediately in the morning, whether it was preparing for a spell or trekking into the greenhouse to start preparing arrangements. To not have a schedule and a to-do list was very disorienting.

  The exhaustion and uncertainty caught up with me and I sank onto the small bench that sat next to the window. I covered my face with my hands and concentrated on breathing and not crying. I didn’t want to cry. I hated crying. There wasn’t any reason to cry.

  But my throat closed and my chin started to wobble, and my sinuses started to burn. I squeezed my eyes shut. No. I couldn’t afford to lose control and expose any weaknesses; the wolves would no doubt sense it immediately and use it against me. Evershaw would, at least. But even controlling my breathing couldn’t eliminate the moisture that blurred my vision, and I punched my thigh to try and keep it together. I really couldn’t afford to feel sorry for myself or sob. It was bad enough I’d slipped the night before and given in to the pain and misery.

  At least one person stirred in the living room, and the sounds of a house waking up intruded on the reassuring stillness around me. Someone shouted, others answered, then more shouting. Someone wasn’t happy—which probably meant Evershaw was awake.

  I refused to reappear in the main room just because the alpha was awake. He was alive and that was all because I drained myself to save him. I could hide in that room for as long as I wanted.

  I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to give myself a pep talk. I would survive all of this. I would survive and come out stronger on the other end. It was nowhere near as awful as after I lost my mother, and I’d managed to keep moving through that. Every day we made the choice to get out of bed and put our clothes on and keep on with the business of life. This too would pass.

  It had to.

  More yelling beyond the door, then footsteps stomped closer and I made out a muffled, “Witch!” from the other side.

  Definitely Evershaw. I didn’t budge, because my face was probably still red and blotchy and my mouth still trembled with the possibility of tears. I couldn’t confront him. I just didn’t have the energy to resurrect my ice-queen shields. I still dredged up some of my mantra and reminded myself whose daughter I was.

  But before I could get myself completely together, the door burst open and Evershaw stood there in the doorway, his face a thundercloud. Of course, I couldn’t see his face because he was still completely naked.

  Completely, totally naked. Standing there in the doorway. Scowling at me as he waited for a response to a question I hadn’t heard. My brain short-circuited and I could only stare at him, every thought completely gone from my head.

  Chapter 21

  Evershaw

  Evershaw woke up in pain and pissed off. He hadn’t slept well and found himself covered in hives when he rolled out of bed. Part of him blamed the witch, although he couldn’t have articulated why it was her fault. She’d been in his room and messed with his things, so clearly it was her fault. He growled and snarled when he realized it was just past dawn, and stormed into the living room only to trip over three different sleeping wolves.

  They jumped up immediately, only half awake, and bolted in every direction—two into the kitchen to start coffee, one running down the hall to get Todd, and Henry swayed on his feet and stood by for orders.

  Evershaw looked for Mercy but didn’t find her, so he scowled at Henry instead. “Get Smith. I want the SUV inspected and an immediate report on how the fuck someone poisoned me with a fucking rattlesnake and none of us noticed. Now.”

  Henry ducked his head and retreated, not turning his back to Evershaw, and cleared his throat. “Roger, boss. Smith wanted to talk to the witch about it first, but he thought—“

  “Then get the witch out there,” Evershaw said. He didn’t give a shit that he hadn’t pulled clothes on; the pack was accustomed to dealing with shifts and nudity, so there wasn’t any reason to pull on pants. “I’m supposed to meet with these fucking upstarts this afternoon and I don’t want to worry about dying on the way there. Or the way back. Go. Now.”

  Henry’s eyes flicked to a closed door, one of the suites that Evershaw had set aside for maybe eventually kids, and the younger wolf cleared his throat. “She’s still sleeping, sir.”

  “Then wake. Her. Up.” Evershaw stared at the wolf, feeling like he’d lost his fucking mind. He’d given an order. More than one. And Henry still didn’t move, instead looking nervous as a pup on his first hunt. Like he didn’t want to disturb the girl. He growled and folded his arms over his chest. “Is there a problem, wolf? Are you challenging me?”

  “No, sir,” Henry said, ducking his head. He retreated another few steps but made no move to go roust the witch out of bed. “She was quite tired, sir, so perhaps she should sleep just a little while longer.”

  Evershaw couldn’t believe his ears. The rest o
f the pack froze in what they were doing, making no eye contact or movement, and the silence echoed. He asked very quietly, very calmly, “Are you more afraid of this witch than you are of me, Henry?”

  Henry glanced at him and quickly away, a slow flush rising up his throat to his face. “Sir, she was up most of the night trying to save you.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Henry took a deep breath. “Sir, I know when you’re pissed at me. I know what you’ll do. I don’t know what she’ll do.”

  “She’ll do nothing,” Evershaw said. He almost couldn’t breathe with rage. How dare that witch distract his pack from actual obedience? Under normal circumstances, Henry wouldn’t have dared disobey or even delay obeying a direct order. “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?”

  One of the other wolves, lingering near the door, didn’t quite meet his gaze. “She’s saved your life twice, sir. It seems like she’s the only one who can. We don’t want to…we want to keep her on our side. Sir.”

  He must have lost his fucking mind. Evershaw stared at them, wondering if he’d missed something. Not even two days ago they’d been willing to charge in to capture the witch and drag her back to the packhouse, and suddenly they were all afraid of waking the girl up.

  “Fine,” he growled. He strode across the living room and called, “Witch!” so she would have at least some warning. He threw open the door and scowled as he looked at the rumpled but made bed, even more irritated that she’d bothered to make the bed when it was clearly a wasted effort. If you were just going to get back in bed later that night, why the fuck bother to straighten the sheets?

  But she wasn’t in the bed. She huddled instead next to the window on one of those odd footstools or ottomans or who the fuck knows what the decorator had insisted “added character” to the otherwise bland rooms. The witch looked like she’d been crying, her eyes red and shiny, and something about her posture looked defeated. She hugged her knees to her chest and slumped, looking lost and disoriented.