BLOOD MAGIC

by Jennifer Lyon

  Axel shot up off the desk to his full height. “Joe? Who is Joe?”

  “Shit, Axel!” Sutton's voice roared through the room. “Back off!”

  She wasn't sure what changed him. He'd been tense, but not like this. She jumped off the edge of the desk and looked around for a weapon. Nothing lethal caught her eye.

  Axel crowded her. “Answer me, Darcy. Who is he, a boyfriend?”

  She looked up and saw that his pupils had enlarged and his jaw was tight. Anger took the place of fear. She was tired of this crap. She'd been attacked, kidnapped, locked up, and she was done being pushed around. “Who I sleep with is none of your business!”

  Axel sucked in a breath, almost making the air around them tremble with his fury. “You're not going to go out and scratch your itch while I'm trying to save Hannah's life!” He turned around and stormed out of the room.

  “Joe's my cousin! Get your mind out of the gutter!” God she was pissed. Who the hell did he think he was?

  A slamming door answered her.

  “Go ahead, run away, you bastard! Afraid of the witch?” What did she just say? It wasn't just Axel, she was acting insane. Insane enough to believe she was a witch.

  Except she did believe it. Maybe some part of her had always known it. She'd always been different.

  “You realize he's actually trying not to kill you. It's the bloodlust making him jealous and unreasonable.”

  She stomped around the desk and dropped into Axel's oversize chair. She had to calm down. “Does everyone bow down to that bully? I'm not going to let him push me around.” Except for the part where he ripped her out of her life.

  Sutton sighed heavily. “He'll kill you.”

  She stared at his face on the screen, noting the comfortingly masculine shadow of a beard around his cheeks and chin. “I refuse to buy the ‘me cave man, can't help being a butthole’ excuse. Besides, I'm not the type that cowers.”

  “Noted,” Sutton said dryly.

  She looked around the office and noticed there wasn't a phone. She'd find a way to contact Joe, but it was sinking in that even if she lived through this and cured Hannah, she couldn't go back home, back to her family. She'd endanger them by being a witch. The rogues would kill anyone to have her blood.

  And then she was going to piss off a demon witch just to add to the fun and games.

  Her dad had been right after all. She was a dangerous embarrassment. She'd worked so hard to prove him wrong, even after his death, to prove that she was worthy of acceptance and love. What a crock of shit that was. She was a witch, a creature of magic, chased by an evil that would force her into hiding forever. How could she ever fall in love and subject a man to that? Or a child?

  Screw it. One step at a time. Find out how to be a witch.

  She'd been at it for a couple of hours. The witch loops were rejecting her. They all told her the same thing—that these were very dangerous times and she needed two sponsors who knew her and could swear she wasn't a demon witch. It looked like rogues had used witch loops as hunting grounds by posing as witches, then luring out witches and killing them. Restless and frustrated, she shoved back from Axel's desk and paced around the office.

  From the screen, Sutton said, “Axel said you used witchcraft to try and stab him with his knife. How did you do that?”

  “Fear. He was dragging me down the stairs and I really thought he might kill me. I felt a ball of hot energy roll up from somewhere and into my chest, then rush out.” She frowned, trying to understand it.

  “Can you summon up that feeling?”

  “I don't know …” She rubbed her temples. Whenever she got that scared, she wasn't thinking, she was … reacting. How could she re-create that?

  “That's not good enough. Lives are at risk here, Hannah's and yours, along with Axel's soul. Concentrate, Darcy. Try.”

  She whirled around to face the image. Try? She had tried, damn it! She'd tried with everything she had last night when Axel locked in her that room. She didn't know how!

  And he had the nerve, the audacity, to tell her to try?

  Turning her back on the condescending idiot, she stormed over to the laptop, opened a blank email, and typed in Joe's address.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sending an email to my cousin.”

  “No.”

  Jerking her head up, she glared at the bald man. “I've been kidnapped, locked in a dungeon, and pushed around enough. Joe will be worried. I'm going tell him I'm okay and you're going to let me.”

  His blue eyes narrowed. “It's not safe to contact anyone.”

  “Except witches,” she shot back.

  “We need them.”

  Fury climbed up her spine and made her jaw rigid. “Send this email, Sutton.”

  “Calm down. You're being unreasonable. You can't do magic if you lose control.”

  Calm down? Someone took the lid off the boiling pot deep in her belly and steam burst up. With a shaking hand, she punched the send button over and over on the laptop.

  The email just sat there, taunting her.

  “Go, damn it!”

  The email faded away. Darcy stared at the Internet program.

  “You're wasting time. All emails go through me. If you send that, I'll delete it.”

  She'd just sent it. Hadn't she? Did it bypass Sutton? Trying to figure it out, she said, “So I should just delete it?”

  He nodded.

  But the email was gone. She had to think. What exactly happened? Had she magically bypassed Sutton and sent the email to Joe? She couldn't keep staring at the computer, so she paced around the front of the desk.

  She couldn't stand it and paced back, but she refrained from looking at the laptop so Sutton wouldn't get suspicious.

  Could she do magic? Send emails with magic? What about those emails from herself warning her of hunters? Had she …

  A female voice cut off her thought with, “Only you can hear me.”

  Startled, she swung around. Her foot caught on the roller of the chair, knocking her off balance and onto her ass. With her legs sprawled, she looked up at the laptop.

  An avatar stared back at her from the computer screen. A wrinkled woman with white hair pulled back in an old-fashioned bun and intense pale blue eyes, nearly white.

  The avatar spoke, “Darcy, don't let anyone know I'm talking to you.”

  Was she real? Who was she? Oh, God, what if she wasn't just hearing voices in her head now, but seeing cartoon characters to go with the voices?

  “Darcy, what happened?” Sutton called out from the wall screen.

  “I fell over the stupid chair.” She climbed up to her feet, keeping her gaze on the avatar. The voice sounded distinctly female but with a digitized quality. “Uh …”

  The avatar's eyes followed her. “Tell him you need a break. Take the computer someplace where he won't be able to see you.”

  She tried to think quickly. It wasn't like she could pick up the computer and run. “I need to take a break.” But there were cameras in her room, so she couldn't talk to the laptop in there. Would Sutton even let her take the laptop? She stood there, shifting back and forth on her sandals trying to figure out what to do.

  “We don't have time for breaks, Darcy.”

  She jerked her gaze from the laptop to the man on the big screen. “Tough. I think I cut my leg when I fell. I'm going to go in the bathroom and clean it up. Then maybe I can even have a glass of water. Or is water against the rules?”

  Sutton's stare turned wary. “Okay. Go on.”

  She dropped her eyes to the laptop. Damn it, how could she get him to let her take it? Lowering her shoulders in a show of resignation or cooperation, she said, “Look, I'll take the laptop in my room and work there for a little bit. I need to think.”

  “Fine. Remember, any emails you send will route through my computer and I'll see them.”

  She snatched up the computer. “Big Brother's watching, I get it.” She faked a limp and got the hell out of t
here. Her heart slammed against her rib cage so hard, she heard the pounding in her ears.

  Who was in the laptop? A witch? Some other creature? Or had her mind snapped? As she walked across the hall, she thought about the weird emails from herself. And that phone call. Going into the room, she glanced up to see the two cameras mounted in opposite corners of the ceiling.

  Her only hope was the bathroom. She passed the desk on her right, turned into the small bathroom, and shut the door. Then she turned on the water for good measure. Finally she sat on the edge of the tub and put the computer on her thighs. “Who are you?”

  The avatar looked back at her warningly. “Can anyone hear you talking to me? No one must hear you.”

  She shook her head. “As far as I know, they can't. Tell me who you are.” She had a death grip on the edges of the laptop and forced her fingers to relax.

  “I'll show you, but first, make absolutely certain no one can see the computer screen.”

  Darcy had believed Axel when he said there were no cameras in the bathroom. But just to be sure, she twisted so her back was to the wall at the edge of the bathtub, then angled the laptop down so that any ceiling camera wouldn't be able to see the screen. “I'm sure.” Anticipation shot up her spine.

  The pixels in the avatar faded then reemerged showing a new face. One she recognized. “Carla? How …”

  “Shhh, don't say my name. Call me Crone when you talk to me.” The picture did the same blurring of pixels then sharpened back into the avatar. “I called Joe about an hour after you didn't show up last night. You weren't answering your cell phone and I had a bad feeling, especially after you told me about the man who spooked you at your mom's funeral. Joe's been looking for you. When he told me what he found at the mortuary, I knew you'd been taken by witch hunters. I can't believe you're still alive. Rogues don't wait to kill.”

  Darcy heard the emotion in her voice. “Axel's not a rogue,” she said without thought, her mind consumed by Carla—she was a witch? Her head buzzed with distant voices and spinning thoughts. Nothing and no one was what it seemed. She didn't even know her best friend as well as she had thought she did. “You're a witch? I mean … how are you contacting me? Sutton has the computer bugged or whatever.”

  The avatar nodded, the sage face kind and patient. “I'm a witch. I knew you were a witch when I first met you. You didn't know and you didn't seem to want to know.”

  “But …” Betrayal swirled in her relief and confusion. “Why didn't you say something?”

  “Darcy, all of us witches are hiding these days. Our powers are weakened from the curse and we're being slaughtered by the rogues. I figured you were safer not knowing. Living as a mortal, I didn't think you'd get a rogue witch hunter's attention.” She paused, then added, “We don't have time for recriminations. Let's get you out of there and someplace safe, then you can be mad at me all you want.”

  Darcy swallowed, and in spite of her shock, she felt less alone. Less scared. “How are you talking to me? Why didn't Sutton hear you in the other room?”

  “I found you by searching the witch loops in the desperate hope of at least hearing something about you, and saw your emails requesting to join.”

  Darcy broke in, “My emails went through? I tried to send Joe an email, but I wasn't sure it worked.”

  “It must have. I'm projecting my avatar to you magically. The hunter didn't hear me because I was funneling my voice directly to your chakras, so only you could hear.”

  “My chakras? What's that?” She felt stupid and slow.

  “Seven levels of magical energy inside of you. Every witch has them.”

  Her head felt thick. “I have so much to learn.”

  The crone avatar nodded. “I need to teach you enough to get you out of there, then you can learn all you want. Do you know where you are?”

  “Not exactly, but I'm not leaving anyway.” Stunned, she pressed her lips together. All she'd wanted last night was to get out, go back home. But now, she knew the truth—she couldn't leave Hannah to die. Not if she could save her.

  “You have to! It's too dangerous …”

  She tried to make Carla understand. “There's a little girl here, Hannah, she's four years old and she has the death mark.” Darcy couldn't leave her, not yet. “I have to help her, Car … Crone.”

  “You can't,” Carla said in a voice that cracked with regret. “It's spell magic, Darcy. We witches were there when the curse happened. It broke our bond with our familiars and magically weakened us. We can't do that kind of spell work without a familiar and we can't get familiars anymore.”

  She closed her eyes and saw that beautiful little girl with the death mark on her forehead. Then she opened her eyes and looked around the small bathroom, seeing her lotion and hairbrush that Axel had brought her. Such little things, but they made her feel better. He hadn't had to do that. He had her at his mercy, and yet, he'd gotten her the things he'd thought she would want. She shifted her gaze to the avatar. “I have to try. Axel tells me that the rogues have put me at the top of their kill list. Two rogues caught me outside the mortuary last night. They'd already cut me once when Axel showed up, killed them, and took me. Maybe I'm safer here. He won't kill me, at least not before I save his sister.”

  The crone avatar closed her eyes and her face crumpled in grief and frustration. “We can both leave, go into hiding …”

  Darcy was not going to get her best friend killed. “No. I can't get away right now anyway. I have to learn magic and you can help me. Please.” She glanced at the water running in the sink. How long had she been hiding in the bathroom? Her neck tensed up. “I can't stay in the bathroom much longer.”

  “I'll help you.”

  Axel and Eve both tried to read to Hannah.

  “No! I want Key to read to me!” She kicked her legs in protest where she sat on the couch between them.

  Eve put her arm around Hannah. “Key isn't here. He can't come here, and it's not safe for you to leave.”

  Big tears welled up in her dark eyes. “It's because I'm sick. Key doesn't like me anymore because I'm sick.” Her lower lip trembled.

  Helpless rage wound through Axel as tears spilled down his sister's face. He pulled out his BlackBerry and hit Key's number.

  Voice mail answered. “Shit.”

  “Shit,” Hannah repeated with a sob.

  Axel was torn between laughing and smashing something. Instead he reached over and lifted Hannah into his arms. “Hannah, you know that's a bad word.” He wiped her tears.

  “You said it.”

  “I'm a grown-up.”

  “Can I say it when I'm a grown-up?”

  Hell yes. Let her make it to be a grown-up and she could say it every damned day. “Yes, you can. Now how about I call Key and you leave him a message on his voice mail?”

  She laid her warm head on his chest. “Don't want to. Too tired.”

  He looked at his mom.

  Eve returned his gaze, her dark eyes brimming with fear.

  “All right, close your eyes and rest.” She was already getting sick. His cheerful, bubbly, talk-nonstop sister was tuning into a cranky, fearful, sick child.

  Eve stood, “Put her in her bed.”

  Axel rose and followed his mom. He kept a bed in the safe house for Hannah and his mom. But since they'd had time, he and Key and Sutton had moved a lot of Hannah's things to make her feel more secure, while Ram and Phoenix fixed up the room downstairs for Darcy. But none of that mattered if they didn't figure out how to stop this death curse on Hannah.

  She was sound asleep by the time he laid her in the bed. His mom tucked her Minnie Mouse into her arms. Axel took a last look at his sister, then stalked down the hallway, through his bedroom, and downstairs.

  The witch had better be making progress. She'd fed Sutton a story about a witch suddenly appearing on the laptop and agreeing to help her. Sutton said the witch was using magic to hide behind an avatar and he couldn't track her. They didn't know where the avatar calling
herself Crone was located or why she popped up to contact Darcy when all the loops rejected her. She was using magic, so she had to be a witch, but what if she was a demon witch?

  Stepping off the last riser, he heard Darcy say, “I feel it! It's opening!”

  What was she talking about? He strode along the hall and turned into her room. Darcy sat on the cold tile floor, cross-legged and staring at a lit orange candle. There was an empty bowl next to the candle. He asked, “Feel what opening?”

  Darcy jerked, lifting her folded hands off her lap. “Axel!”

  A thin river of water shot from her hands and hit him in the middle of his chest. “What the hell?”

  Darcy's brown eyes lit up with gold lights. “Water! I did water! The second chakra!” Then her face sobered. “Uh, you're wet. I was trying to get the water in the bowl.”

  Had she done it on purpose? He'd find out soon enough, so he waited, watching her.

  “What?”

  “Waiting to see if you get drenched by witch karma.”

  Leaping to her feet, she waved a hand at him. “Oh, please, it was just a little water. It didn't harm you.”

  “Too bad.” He eyed her little shirt covering her breasts. He wouldn't mind seeing it wet and clinging to her. Sudden thick need filled his veins and made him hot. He inhaled, and caught her lemony scent, intensifying the need. It had to be from touching her blood.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I'm going to try fire next. The third chakra.”

  Axel brought his thoughts under control. He was there to check on her progress. He pulled off his damp shirt and used it to wipe his chest.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Drying off.” Or cooling off; running the cool damp material over his hot skin. But he didn't need to tell the little witch that. He tossed the shirt onto her bed. “So this Crone is teaching you something?”

  Her excitement had dimmed. “Yes. But healing Hannah will be more complicated than I thought. The curse affected witches, too, so we can't do spell magic.”

  Axel forgot the water and his lust. His suspicion surfaced. What was this Crone telling her? “You will do this, Darcy.”