Which Witch is Wild? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 3)

by Kerrigan Byrne

  "You don't deserve that shit-eatin' grin, Aerin de Moray." At the bottom of the stairs, Moira wagged her finger like an Italian mama, her other hand resting on a hip thrust out as far as it could to in order to convey the proper amount of censure. "We all know who caused it and, while I can't rightly judge ya'll for taking the train to pound town, we don't appreciate a Horseman in the house without our knowing it first."

  "And I don't appreciate you both knocking three crystals from the chandelier!" Tierra lamented. "That's Irish crystal imported more than a hundred years ago. Do you know how much they'll cost to replace?"

  "I can afford it." Lucy found that adopting Aerin's sultry sense of sarcasm wasn't much of a reach from her usual diction.

  "You bet your ass you can," the earth witch muttered.

  Was this what sisters tiffed about? Was this how it felt to live with family, among equals? It was rather novel to break with the regular stuff, like the scraping, the moaning, the gnashing of teeth and so forth. A family… experiencing such a thing hadn’t occurred to Lucifer until now.

  "We might not have time to replace anything." Claire blazed into the foyer, her hips swaying as much as her leather duds would allow. Woman after her own heart, the devil mused. "What with impending fucking Apocalypse and the remaining Horsemen trying to infiltrate the house."

  "Infiltrate?" Tierra fretted. "Are there more Horsemen inside the house other than Jul--?"

  The doorbell rang just as Claire reached for the handle and yanked. Though the heavy door barricaded her view, Lucy knew exactly who stood on the opposite side.

  Julian was a silent presence behind Lucy's back, and she loved that she stood between him and his brothers.

  In more ways than one.

  God this was the most fun she'd had in centuries! She had to clutch the banister to keep from clapping her hands with child-like delight.

  Claire stood her ground and said nothing, directing a simmering, unamused glare toward the porch.

  "Hey," rumbled Dru's deep voice.

  "Hey," Claire echoed.

  Even the Lady of Lies had to wince.

  Awkward as fuck.

  "Is uh... is Julian here?"

  "How'd you get past the wards?" Claire ignored the question.

  "What wards?" Nick queried. "They're down."

  "What the shit?" Tierra whirled on Aerin. "Did you do this?"

  Lucy was going to deny it, but then she realized that she was utter shit at the innocent expressions. Always had been. "How else was my fuck buddy going to get in?"

  She could tell from the chilly shift in the atmosphere behind her, that Julian wasn't thrilled with his new moniker. Well, tough. You mess with the Devil, you still get horns.

  That truth never changed.

  "You going to invite us in, or what?" Nick demanded.

  "You can stay right where you are," Claire said. "We'll send Julian out with the rest of the trash."

  “I beg your pardon?” Julian’s effrontery hit her in another chilly wave.

  Claire went to shut the door in their faces and was thwarted by what Lucy imagined was Dru's boot.

  "We're here to offer a truce.” He bit out the words as though they cost him a great deal.

  "Oh, you mean you'll stop trying to kill us for a second now that you're only three strong?" Claire snarked. "Thanks a million, but we'll take our chances."

  Moira slid gentle fingers over Claire's jacket shoulder as she padded around her to peek out the door. "Maybe we should hear them out.”

  Claire yanked away. "As the only one who's not fucking one of these yahoos at the moment, I maintain that the smart thing to do is toss Julian to his brothers, slam the door, and put the wards back in place."

  “I dare you to endeavor to throw me anywhere,” Julian challenged.

  "Lucifer has Bane in her realm, which means she has use of his power." Nick gave them the reader's digest version.

  The sisters only paused for a moment before throwing open the door and admitting Dru and Nick into the foyer.

  Julian stepped around her to join his brethren, without reaching for her.

  Strange. She'd thought he'd be more considerate to the witch he'd just spent hours making love to. Lucy descended as well, though she stayed a few stairs above them all.

  "We came to talk to you," Dru addressed Tierra, looking more worried than she'd seen him. Maybe ever. "To ask, to beg you if necessary, to bring Bane back. If you do, our ceasefire will continue, and we'll work with you stop the Apocalypse."

  "The hell you will," Lucy hissed. Though her lips snapped shut when they all turned to stare at her. "What I meant was... why should we believe a word you say?" Using Aerin's imperious tone, she knew by their mirroring frowns that she'd pulled it off.

  "Because despite any differences we have, none of us want Lucy to achieve her goals." Nick was obviously trying to be charming, but Lucy knew the gall that seethed just below the surface. She could tell by the way he avoided the water witches' knowing aqua gaze.

  So Conquest had finally found someone he feared. My, my, it really was the end of days.

  "What do we have to do to get him back?" Dru gritted out.

  The earth witches' eyes filled with tears. "I don't know. I'm not really even sure how I--" her hand went to her stomach. "We, put him there."

  Fascinating, Lucy thought. So Tierra couldn’t have done it on her own. She had help... from Killian Bane's child. A familiar stab of fear pierced her and she smothered it with cold, pure rage. With if Death and Druid of creation made a baby? What kind of power would it wield?

  Lucy barely paid attention to their paltry brainstorm as her eyes fixed on Tierra's softly protruding stomach.

  She had Aerin now... but perhaps she'd gone after the wrong sister.

  ****

  Gliding down the grand and winding staircase of the de Moray manse, Lucy let her hand trail along the banister with a possessive sort of glee. Lord what power coursed through her, what pure elemental bliss.

  She'd previously underestimated these witches. She understood that now. Not since the dark ages had she felt this kind of unmitigated strength.

  What a pity, really, that the devil's magic was—like all deities—linked to faith. To belief and worship. But no longer. Now entirely new opportunities presented themselves like the prostrate forms of the hopeless damned.

  Beneath her fucking Jimmy Choo sling back heels.

  One of these prospects was beneath them all, quite literally, as a writhing tortured Horseman. Her plaything. Her possession.

  The other, was regrettably still inside her. Or, rather, Lucy was inside the air witch. In the most intimate possible way. This was a penetration of the soul. An intrusion of the mind. A rape of Aerin de Moray's very self.

  A secret smile lifted the corners of her mouth as Aerin's creative and emphatic curses screamed from the dark cage where Lucifer had imprisoned her awareness. Of course, Lucy planned to get rid of Aerin eventually. But she'd have to gain more power first. More souls, more fear, and more electric sex with Julian Roarke. How delicious it would be to make Aerin watch as Lucy crushed everything and everyone she cared about.

  "You don't deserve that shit-eatin' grin, Aerin de Moray." At the bottom of the stairs, Moira wagged her finger like an Italian mama, her other hand resting on a hip thrust out as far as it could in order to convey the proper amount of censure. "We all know who caused it, and, while I can't rightly judge ya'll for taking the train to pound town, we don't appreciate a Horseman in the house without our knowing it first."

  "And I don't appreciate you both knocking three crystals from the chandelier!" Tierra lamented. "That's Irish crystal imported more than a hundred years ago. Do you know how much they'll cost to replace?"

  "I can afford it." Lucy found that adopting Aerin's sultry sense of sarcasm wasn't much of a reach from her usual diction.

  "You bet your ass you can," the earth witch muttered.

  Was this what sisters tiffed about? Was this how it fel
t to live with family, among equals? It was rather novel to break with the regular stuff, like the scraping, the moaning, the gnashing of teeth and so forth. A family… experiencing such a thing hadn’t occurred to Lucifer until now.

  "We might not have time to replace anything." Claire blazed into the foyer, her hips swaying as much as her leather duds would allow. Woman after her own heart, the devil mused. "What with the impending fucking Apocalypse and the remaining Horsemen trying to infiltrate the house."

  "Infiltrate?" Tierra fretted. "Are there more Horsemen inside the house other than Jul--?"

  The doorbell rang just as Claire reached for the handle and yanked. Though the heavy door barricaded her view, Lucy knew exactly who stood on the opposite side.

  Julian was a silent presence behind Lucy's back, and she loved that she stood between him and his brothers.

  In more ways than one.

  God this was the most fun she'd had in centuries! She had to clutch the banister to keep from clapping her hands with child-like delight.

  Claire stood her ground and said nothing, directing a simmering, unamused glare toward the porch.

  "Hey," rumbled Dru's deep voice.

  "Hey," Claire echoed.

  Even the Lady of Lies had to wince.

  Awkward as fuck.

  "Is uh... is Julian here?"

  "How'd you get past the wards?" Claire ignored the question.

  "What wards?" Nick queried. "They're down."

  "What the shit?" Tierra whirled on Aerin. "Did you do this?"

  Lucy was going to deny it, but then she realized that she was utter shit at the innocent expressions. Always had been. "How else was my fuck buddy going to get in?"

  She could tell from the chilly shift in the atmosphere behind her, that Julian wasn't thrilled with his new moniker. Well, tough. You mess with the Devil, you still get horns.

  That truth never changed.

  "You going to invite us in, or what?" Nick demanded.

  "You can stay right where you are," Claire said. "We'll send Julian out with the rest of the trash."

  “I beg your pardon?” Julian’s effrontery hit her in another chilly wave.

  Claire went to shut the door in their faces and was thwarted by what Lucy imagined was Dru's boot.

  "We're here to offer a truce.” He bit out the words as though they cost him a great deal.

  "Oh, you mean you'll stop trying to kill us for a second now that you're only three strong?" Claire snarked. "Thanks a million, but we'll take our chances."

  Moira slid gentle fingers over Claire's jacket shoulder as she padded around her to peek out the door. "Maybe we should hear them out.”

  Claire yanked away. "As the only one who's not fucking one of these yahoos at the moment, I maintain that the smart thing to do is toss Julian to his brothers, slam the door, and put the wards back in place."

  “I dare you to endeavor to throw me anywhere,” Julian challenged.

  "Lucifer has Bane in her realm, which means she has use of his power." Nick gave them the reader's digest version.

  The sisters only paused for a moment before throwing open the door and admitting Dru and Nick into the foyer.

  Julian stepped around her to join his brethren, without reaching for her.

  Strange. She'd thought he'd be more considerate to the witch he'd just spent hours making love to. Lucy descended as well, though she stayed a few stairs above them all.

  "We came to talk to you," Dru addressed Tierra, looking more worried than she'd seen him. Maybe ever. "To ask, to beg you if necessary, to bring Bane back. If you do, our ceasefire will continue, and we'll work with you stop the Apocalypse."

  "The hell you will," Lucy hissed. Though her lips snapped shut when they all turned to stare at her. "What I meant was... why should we believe a word you say?" Using Aerin's imperious tone, she knew by their mirroring frowns that she'd pulled it off.

  "Because despite any differences we have, none of us want Lucy to achieve her goals." Nick was obviously trying to be charming, but Lucy knew the gall that seethed just below the surface. She could tell by the way he avoided the water witches' knowing aqua gaze.

  So Conquest had finally found someone he feared. My, my, it really was the end of days.

  "What do we have to do to get him back?" Dru gritted out.

  Tierra’s eyes filled with tears. "I don't know. I'm not really even sure how I--” the earth witch’s hand went to her stomach. "We, put him there."

  Fascinating, Lucy thought. So Tierra couldn’t have done it on her own. She had help... from Killian Bane's child. A familiar stab of fear pierced her, and she smothered it with cold, pure rage. With if Death and Druid of creation made a baby? What kind of power would it wield?

  Lucy barely paid attention to their paltry brainstorm as her eyes fixed on Tierra's softly protruding stomach.

  She had Aerin now... but perhaps she'd gone after the wrong sister.

  Tierra

  by

  Tiffinie Helmer

  Chapter One

  Tierra would pay for dumping him in Hell.

  The thought of all the many deviant acts he planned for her was the only thing keeping Killian Bane from going bat-shit crazy. After he punished her, he'd take her over and over again until there was no fucking question in her mind to whom she belonged.

  Just as soon as he got out of Hell.

  Which had to be any day now.

  Surely within the hour.

  His brothers were working on a plan and would be implementing it soon, of that he had no doubt. But they were sure taking their sweet ass time.

  From the moment he'd landed in this pit, he had become Lucifer's favorite pet, and she'd made it her mission to demonstrate on him, Death himself, all the demonic practices that had bred fear in the populace since the time of Adam and Eve.

  The bitch was downright creative, he'd give her that.

  Currently he was naked and shish kabobed to the wall of a rank crypt after having undergone a variety of tortures only a sadist of the highest order could dream up. Copper spikes pinned him to the brimstone walls, leeching his powers and keeping him in a state that was somewhat close to human. It wouldn't kill him. He was a fucking immortal, but if left too long, it might end him in a catatonic state. Copper was one of the few elements that had the ability to affect him. And the three-foot-long stakes pinning him to the wall burned like a son of a bitch.

  Rods pierced the sides of his neck, a few through his triceps and the skin under his ribs, and if that weren't enough, two in his thighs and calves as well. He wasn't going anywhere without divine intervention. She'd left his hands and feet alone as she found that too offensive even for her, stating personal reasons.

  The Bible spoke of Hell as an all-consuming fire where the inhabitants burned endlessly for eternity with no chance of relief, but that wasn't true. Hell was tailor-made for each individual. Arachnophobes were deposited into a room filled with spiders. Germaphobes swam in cesspools of bacteria, while those afraid of heights continued to fall from immense cliffs. Whatever would evoke the highest emotional response was implemented. He didn't want to consider what happened to child molesters. He'd heard rumors, and he really couldn't fault the practice Lucy had chosen as punishment for that particular heinous crime.

  Death's private Hell was either being trapped in a tomb or buried alive in a grave, which Tierra had now accomplished twice. He was a tad more claustrophobic than he'd like to admit, and Lucy had outdone herself. The air was stifling and infused with sulfur. Water dripped on his face until he thought he'd go mad. Not rhythmically, which could resemble white noise. No, the dripping changed, morphed with his emotions. Fast, disjointed, sluggish, violent at times until the dirt floor he stood on with bare feet turned to soul-sucking mud. Cold, damp, and desolate.

  Tierra had a lot to answer for: rejecting him when she'd discovered he'd bound her to him for her protection—a romantic gesture she should have appreciated—and then opening the Hell Mouth and dropp
ing him here, a power far beyond her capabilities. He could only assume she'd had help.

  Help in the way of their unborn child.

  It was the only explanation for how Tierra had thwarted Lucy when she'd tried to burn her at the stake.

  Hadn't that been a sight to behold?

  A smile curved his lips at the memory, and he promptly bit it back. He was mad at her. Furious. He'd suffered much because of her, and she would feel his wrath once he was free. He'd start with her on her hands and knees, her mouth around his—

  "Killian?"

  His heart stopped at the sound of her voice. She couldn't be. Not here.

  Timidly, Tierra entered his cell, dressed in a flowing gypsy skirt, bangles wrapped around her wrists and ankles, singing with bells with each graceful movement. A gauzy peasant blouse in the purest white graced her upper body. The fine cotton billowed and hid her pregnancy. His child, the one they'd created the day he first had her delectable body five months ago. Her long reddish-black hair cascaded around her in wavy rivulets and he ached to touch her with the hunger of a concentration camp victim.

  "Tierra?" She couldn't be real. He didn't want her to see him like this, strung up like some voodoo doll. She had to be an illusion, one Lucy planned to taunt or torture in front of him. He swallowed, not knowing if he'd mentally survive it.

  "I've come to rescue you," she said, her voice breathy.

  How? How had she gotten here? But then, how had she sent him here to begin with? "Are my brothers with you? Your sisters?"

  Maybe there was a chance . . . hope sprouted in his chest.

  "No, it's just me."

  Shit.

  "Leave!" he barked. "I don't want you here." Lucy had been trying to strike a deal. She'd promised to release him if he gave over his first-born. He would perish in Hell before she got her fake nails on his child, but if she found Tierra . . .