Wicked Magic (7 Wicked Tales Featuring Witches, Demons, Vampires, Fae, and More)

by Deanna Chase

  I blinked. “Before the second team arrived, you mean.”

  “No.” She hesitated. “The second team hasn’t responded in the last forty-five minutes.”

  “It’s an hour drive to Odessa from Wink.” I checked my phone. “It’s been two hours.”

  “I know.” Her voice lowered until I strained to hear her. “The magistrates have been informed.”

  Air hissed from between my teeth. Not good. Not good at all.

  Mable recovered faster than I did. “Is Shaw with you?”

  “Yes.” I raised my voice so he would hear. “Shaw’s here.”

  He turned at the sound of his name, brow furrowed as his gaze zeroed in on my phone.

  “Save me a call and tell him the Richardsons’ ranch hasn’t turned a profit in the last five years. I can’t find any records of sales made since then. However, the ranch has continued to participate as a buyer in several quarterly auctions.” She hummed. “The ranch is three thousand acres with…it looks like…five hundred head at the ranch’s peak ten years ago. Based on the records we confiscated from the Richardsons’ accountant, almost six hundred feeder cattle were purchased in the last five years.”

  “Too bad there’s no way to know how many cattle were there at the time of the fire.” I added, “Without counting skulls I mean.”

  “Oh, but there is.” Mable tittered. “A recent vet bill shows vaccinations for three hundred head.”

  “Well damn. Richardson wrote off eight hundred cattle, not counting what his own stock produced.”

  “Do I assume from your tone that’s good news?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I snapped my fingers. “Any luck finding blueprints for the storm shelters?”

  “No.” Her enthusiasm waned. “There are records of the costs and a breakdown of materials, but if blueprints existed, I figure they were either kept in the office at the ranch, or they were destroyed.”

  “You’re probably right.” Though I could guess, I still asked, “What was on the material list?”

  “Steel,” she said, “and lots of it.”

  Another sip of water made me wince. “I figured.” Iron was the main ingredient in steel.

  “Oh. An email from you just popped up in my inbox. Should I open it?”

  “Well that took forever. It’s picture heavy. I sent it before leaving Dallas. I guess it took a while for the…um…” Crap. I sucked at lying. I had to work on my poker face—poker voice? “The important thing is you got the message.”

  “You left Dallas?” Concern shot her voice up an octave. “Without telling me? Marshals are going missing. You don’t change locations without calling here first.”

  “I, well…”

  “Put Shaw on the phone,” she snapped. “Now.”

  With a scowl aimed at me with laser precision, he accepted the phone when I offered it to him.

  I’ll give him this much. He accepted his dressing-down like a man. A man whose eye twitch said he was counting backward from one hundred and that Mable wasn’t the one making him grind his teeth.

  Me and my big mouth.

  Clamping a strong hand on my shoulder, he kept me from beating a hasty retreat and calling my cell a loss. Squirming got me exactly nowhere. Slight paling of his eyes shocked me into stillness. It was one thing for me to blab our location to Mable. It was another for Shaw to incubus-out in public.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Shaw grated out the words. “I’ll take good care of her.”

  I tried looking contrite. “Well?”

  He tossed my phone at me. “Mable threatened to lose my paychecks for life if I let you get hurt. Again.”

  “Aww.” I pocketed the cell. “That’s sweet.”

  He fisted the front of my shirt and dragged me up against him. “That mouth of yours.”

  I wet my lips. “Yes?”

  His eyes crushed shut as their color faded to white. “It’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

  “Probably,” I agreed. “But that day is not today.”

  His growl barely registered within my hearing.

  “Here.” I stepped beside him and looped my arm around his waist. “Let’s get you to the car.”

  Tucking me closer against his side, he leaned into me. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No.” Bruises healed too fast to fret over them.

  His grunt sounded unconvinced. “You sent Mable everything?”

  “All our notes, pictures and pertinent file information. She just confirmed receipt.”

  “Good.” After a few test blinks, he opened copper eyes. “Still no word from the ground?”

  “None.” I stared up at him. “This whole thing stinks to high heaven.”

  “Yeah, it does. Someone has to go to that ranch and find out what the hell is going on out there.” He twisted until he faced me. “This situation goes beyond anything you were trained to face. I can’t ask you to square off against these people.” His surly expression gentled. “I want you to consider sitting this one out.”

  I laughed. Hard. Until my eyes watered.

  He didn’t so much as crack a smile.

  “You aren’t serious.” I waited for him to tell me I was hearing him wrong. “We’re partners.”

  “Whatever the Richardsons have out at that ranch is taking down seasoned marshals.”

  “You don’t think I’m good enough.” Coming from him…that hurt.

  “We’ve lost a quarter of the marshals out of our office.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “According to Mable, I’m the highest-ranking marshal in the vicinity. That makes me interim divisional commander, and I’m not blindly ordering more of our people to their deaths.” His jaw flexed. “The Southeastern Conclave is on standby, and I’ve asked Mable to prep another team. But they won’t be dispatched until I’ve gotten a look around. I need to give the others an idea of what we’re up against so they can prepare.” He hesitated, trying to temper his next words. “That’s why I can’t ask you to go. It’s a solo mission.”

  I read between the lines. “A suicide mission you mean.”

  “Thierry.” He kept using that placating tone. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

  “Good.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, then pasted on the syrupy-sweet smile I usually reserved for con jobs on Mom. “Then you won’t mind me not going anywhere with you.”

  “Stubborn.” Eyes flickering to white, he lowered his head, parted his lips.

  “You’re going to try to kiss me with that mouth? After what you just said?” I jabbed the unlock icon on the key fob dangling from his fingers then shoved him back. “Dream on, Shaw.”

  While he grumbled, I got in the car. By the time I got the nervous flickers in my palm under control, Shaw slid behind the wheel with a grunt. I strapped in and pulled up the GPS.

  Ready or not, here we come.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chewed-up bits of asphalt crunched under our tires as Shaw guided the rental car off the uneven shoulder of the road. A slim green mile marker staked out the ground ten feet from the front bumper.

  “Proceed for one point two miles,” a computerized voice urged.

  I killed the navigation prompt and leaned back against the headrest.

  Silence filled the car to bursting.

  “There’s still time to change your mind.” Shaw’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

  I told him the truth. “I’ve changed it at least six times since we left the airport.”

  His white-knuckled grip relaxed a fraction. “And?”

  “I can’t let you go alone.”

  A slow nod left his head hanging as though he expected a guillotine blade to fall.

  Reaching behind my seat, I retrieved our satchels from the floorboard. I dropped his onto his lap, turning away while I did a cursory check through mine to hide my trembling fingers from his sight.

  Once I forced my tremors under control, I shoved open the door and stepped out of the car. “Let’s do this.”


  His response was to join me on the sandy strip near the highway, underneath the glaring sun. Laughter tickled the back of my throat when he locked the rental behind us, like he was making the statement we would be back and that he didn’t want to be liable if someone stole it. Optimism. I liked that.

  “I’m texting Mable our location now.” Calling her would have been too hard. I might have said something stupid, like goodbye. Texting kept me calm, kept those fears expanding my chest bottled.

  Another nod, this one as distracted as the first. He slung his bag across his body and started walking.

  “Here we go,” I murmured.

  There was no traffic, no sound except for our footsteps, the shift of sand and the occasional grind of asphalt or concrete or litter underfoot. A tickle of unease had me stifling nervous giggles. I was not a giggler. But the lack of cars, lights, sirens—anything—sent creepy sensations crawling down my nape.

  “That must have been the first checkpoint.” He jerked his chin toward an unmarked car covered with an odd sheen. It looked like someone had taken a handful of Crisco shortening and smeared it over the hood. The tires on the right side looked flat. No. They were still inflated, but buried in sand. The whole car tilted to that side. Doors stood open. Soft country music drifted to my ears. The engine was running.

  I took a step toward the car. “Should we…?”

  Shaw’s hand clamped over my upper arm. “Leave it.”

  Dusty air filled my lungs as I scented the area. “No blood. That goo—it’s definitely fae.”

  “No marshal goes down without a fight.” He grimaced. “Whatever got to him, it got there fast.”

  After surveying the area, I noted the nearest structure, the only one untouched by the fire, was a pump house.

  “Stay put.” Shaw flicked his wrist, unleashing his claws as he released me. “Watch my back.”

  For once I didn’t argue. Muscles tense and palms damp, I waited as he searched the small building.

  “Clear,” he called. “Let’s go.”

  Nodding, I drifted toward him, shoring up my nerves. I liked to run my mouth and play at being a badass, but the bottom line was both our asses were on the line out here. I was young. I was inexperienced. I didn’t know it all, and if I thought too hard about it, my fear would take control.

  Pangs radiated through my chest, like my vital organs wanted to bust out of their cage and hotfoot it back to the car. A hand over my thundering heart made me wince. I rubbed the spot like it would make a difference.

  This was real. We were here. Evidence suggested the other marshals were dead or taken. That left Shaw and me to stop whatever horror the Richardsons had harnessed and taught to pop marshals into its mouth like M&M’s. By the time we reached the driveway, spots danced on the edges of my vision and breathing was like trying to gulp air with my lungs full of water. I was ready to tuck tail and run, and the fear pissed me off.

  I had done bad things. I would do worse one day I was sure. But I had done good too, and this was my fight. I had trained for this. It was my job to make the Richardsons pay for the lives they had taken. Fae or human didn’t matter. Seeing justice done—that was important. Come hell or high water, I was doing this.

  “Here we are.” Shaw stopped where the road dipped and turned from blacktop to dust.

  Straight as an arrow, the dirt road shot toward where the Richardsons’ house once stood. Acres of green pasture rolled as far as the eye could see in either direction. Ahead, the charred bones of the once-lavish house glared at those who dared to visit, to see it reduced to such bitter leavings. Beyond that, the blackened skeleton of the main barn stood watch over smoldering stalls on a burnt patch of grass.

  With a growl, Shaw stalked toward the nearest gatepost. “This should have been the second checkpoint.”

  Spent shell casings littered the ground. A rifle stuck to the post he examined, covered by opaque slime. He swiped a finger through the thickest bit, hissing a string of swears as he wiped off the goo.

  “What’s wrong?” Unidentified fae ooze could mean any number of things.

  “It stings.” He rubbed his finger through the dirt. “Reminds me of a mild acid burn.”

  “Any idea what it could be?”

  He straightened and dusted his hands. “No clue.”

  “Those checkpoints…” I jerked my chin toward the last one. “Were they maintained by the backup units?”

  “They had to be.” He exhaled. “The first responders hadn’t reported anything unusual. Most weren’t armed.”

  Unarmed meant different things to different fae, but most shunned guns and modern weaponry.

  “This should be fun.” Flat as the area was, the Richardsons could literally see us coming from a mile away. Based on the evidence at hand, they had one nasty welcome wagon ready to roll over us.

  When I stepped from the road onto the driveway, the thick soles of my sneakers sank in the sand and turned my foot. Stupid ankle. Thrown off balance, I flung out my arms and braced for the fall, landing on all fours. That was when I felt it, a slight trembling under my left palm.

  “Do you feel that?” I reared up, scanning the area, hearing nothing, seeing nothing.

  In my periphery, Shaw shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t hear it now.” Stinging in my palm made me wince. Blood smeared my hand where I must have landed on a rock. Before the cut closed, instinct guided me to place the wound to the earth. Sound exploded in my head. “Something’s coming. Something big.”

  A shudder wracked Shaw, the start of his change. “I don’t see anything.”

  Filling my lungs only made me cough. “I don’t smell anything, either.”

  “I got nothing.” He knelt beside me, bracing his palm flat on the ground. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know.” I dusted my hands. “My magic has been on the fritz lately. I’m not sure if it’s—”

  The rumbling became audible. Tremors made the ground quake beneath our knees. Dirt erupted, and a dusky appendage burst upward, spraying sand. The conical tip swung left to right, hesitating as runes flared in my palm. The stout column swayed, lowering, following that burst of frantic light.

  “What the hell is that?” I squeaked.

  “It’s an annuli.” Shaw’s hand clamped down on my arm. “Don’t make any sudden moves.”

  Muscles quivered in my thighs, twitching with the urge to run. “Is that Latin for ‘giant worm’?”

  “Close enough.” His stance tensed. “It shouldn’t be able to track us this well aboveground.”

  Its segmented skin faded from a swarthy rose color to near translucence around the area protruding from the ground. “It doesn’t have eyes.” I flattened my palm to help my balance, and the thing’s head rotated to one side. Crap. A vague memory of a gross earthworm dissection in my sophomore year surfaced. “It’s the light.”

  “Receptors in its skin cells,” Shaw agreed. “It can detect light and changes in light intensity.”

  “So it can’t see us,” I reasoned, “but it can track our movement using our shadows if we run.”

  Except—lucky me—I had a beacon in my palm, making me easy to spot.

  “Something like that.” He studied its swaying bulk. “It can’t hear, but it can sense vibrations.”

  Thinking of how quickly it had pinpointed us, I swallowed hard. “Magic or otherwise?”

  “I’m guessing,” he said, lowering his voice despite himself, “but I’ll go with both.”

  I groaned. “What you’re saying is we’re screwed.”

  “Pretty much.”

  The annuli continued swaying like a cobra ready to strike, with what, I wasn’t sure. No eyes, no ears—was it too much to hope the giant worm didn’t have a mouth filled with sharp teeth either?

  Ripples worked through its neck, like a cough with nowhere to go.

  And then the tip of its head split in two.

  “You’ve got to be jokin
g.” I tried to look away, but stared transfixed as its gaping mouth parted. The annuli’s hacking cough worsened, deepened. Like idiots, Shaw and I knelt there watching it all. After a few more tries, it hocked up a glob of white mesh hanging from a thick cord down its, well, it didn’t have a chin. The odd bundle dripped familiar opaque goo. “It looks like a melting spider web made out of gooey string.”

  “New plan.” Shaw didn’t wait for it to slurp the mesh back into its mouth. “Run.”

  He jumped to his feet and jerked me so hard after him my knees left the ground. Stumbling, I gained my balance in time for the annuli to vomit—its tongue?—at us. Spittle from the tongue flecked the backs of my arms with liquid agony as it smacked into the ground on my heels.

  “Does this new plan have a next step?” I panted. “We can’t outrun it forever.”

  “I’m working on it,” he growled.

  The driveway stretched for maybe half a mile ahead of us. The rental car sat about that far in the opposite direction. The abandoned car was closer, unlocked, which made it a damn tempting refuge. But I wasn’t sure how much the annuli would swallow to get to us, and all I needed was to be caught Googling How to Hot-wire A Car in Sixty Seconds or Less when it showed up, flung its drool-covered net over the car and gulped down the whole thing. Any way you cut it, death by digestion sounded disgusting.

  Hard-packed dirt split beneath our feet. Sand bubbled through the cracks when the annuli passed under us. Its tunnel bowed the road, making our feet sink into the shifting debris trail. Heavier than I was, Shaw sank to the ankle in the freshly tilled soil. I clamped my fingers around his belt, steadying him until he caught his balance. While I kept hold of him, I led him toward the fence and the pasture.

  “We need more room,” I yelled by way of explanation.

  “It won’t help.” Planting a palm on the nearest fence post, he vaulted over it. “Thierry?”

  Barbed wire raked the inseam of my jeans when I leapt. Unlike Shaw, my landing didn’t stick. My ankle was still tender and it turned, sending me sprawling into the grass on all fours. The same raw power as before seeped into my palm, flipping a switch in my pain-addled brain and launching my darker self into the foreground of my mind with a snarl. Pressure built in my head. Familiar hunger set my stomach cramping.