Witch's Bounty

by Ann Gimpel

  “I wish you wouldn’t talk about me as if I wasn’t standing right here.” Duncan’s tone sharpened and he sounded annoyed. “The operative pronoun is you, not he.”

  “Now who’s splitting hairs?” The air around Jenna crackled with suppressed power.

  “I thanked him because he’s trying to take care of us, me in particular,” Colleen ground out. Bubba flexed his claws; one caught her forearm and she yelped.

  “Bubba doesn’t like anything about this,” Jenna said.

  “He’s reacting to the tension in this room,” Colleen retorted. She shifted the cat to her other arm to free a hand and rubbed her temple where a headache had started. “And he’s right. We’re headed off to do battle with something ancient and powerful. We all need to be on the same page, or it’s as good as showing up wearing signs that say, Just Kill Me Now.”

  “Good you understand that,” Duncan muttered. He turned to Jenna, sheathed the remainder of his magic, and bowed formally. “I understand you don’t trust me. You have many reasons not to. Exigencies make unlikely bedfellows. I honor the covenant betwixt magic wielders. It’s why I offered you my assistance. There are other Sidhe like me, honorable mages I can call upon for help. I was waiting until we arrived at our destination before I did so.” He hesitated a beat, and then went on. “It is unwise to marshal troops before one knows exactly what is needed.”

  Jenna crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I’ve asked myself the same question. Actually, I spent the time the two of you were upstairs considering why I didn’t just get up and leave.”

  “What’d you come up with?” Colleen asked. Bubba leaned toward the Sidhe as if his answer was important. The changeling had always had good instincts. Colleen tuned in with her third ear to listen carefully. Sidhe were notorious for trick answers, multi-layered affairs that were meant to obfuscate and blur things, while sounding perfectly reasonable on the surface.

  “Several things.” Duncan held up a finger. “One. I had no idea there were so few demon stalkers left. Two,” a second finger joined the first, “I, er, finally understood that my people hung you out to dry and it annoys the hell out of me.”

  “So it would have sat better if there were still forty of us?” Jenna cut in. “Or fifty?”

  Color stained Duncan’s bronzed skin. “To be brutally honest, probably.” He held up a hand. “Let me finish. It would mean the Sidhes’ genetic manipulations weren’t responsible for killing off so many of you.”

  “If it killed even one of us, would that have been acceptable?” Colleen couldn’t help it; she leaped into the fray.

  Duncan made a fist and pounded it into his open hand. “No.” He narrowed his eyes. “What we did was wrong. I see that now. Mind you, many of my fellows won’t agree with me. They view all humans, even those with magic, as expendable, but we will have allies amongst the Sidhe too.”

  Colleen rolled his last statement around in her head. “We, huh? You make it sound as if you’ve signed on for the long haul.”

  “I have.” He cleared his throat. “I never finished giving you the reasons I didn’t simply walk out of your shop. If the Irichna win—and they nearly have—we’ll all face the consequences. I fear it will be the end of magic here on Earth. As it is, many Sidhe have faded into the Dreaming, or taken up residence on the borderworlds.”

  “Scarcely the end of magic.” Colleen clanked her teeth together, so pissed off she wanted to kill something. Bubba twisted in her arms and she loosened her hold, realizing she must have been squashing him. “Merely the end of good magic. The Irichna and their minions have plenty of the other sort.”

  “Exactly what I meant.” Duncan inclined his head toward her. “Thank you for the clarification. I came here hoping to gather maybe ten or twelve of you to deal with a fairly minor Irichna uprising in Cumbria.” The muscles in his jaw worked. Colleen wasn’t sure if he was angry or embarrassed, or maybe a little of both. “Sidhe have always been fairly insular. We don’t pay much attention to the goings on in the human world.”

  “So you didn’t know how strong the Irichna had gotten,” Colleen said flatly. “Or how depleted our ranks were.”

  “In a word, no. I’m shocked, furious, dismayed…” He blew out a breath. “None of that matters. Feelings are an indulgence. What’s important is figuring out how to get those bastards on the run. It didn’t make sense for me to leave two of the three remaining demon stalkers alone to face what might be Armageddon, while I teleported back to the Old Country, hat in hand, to solicit aid on your behalf.”

  “Maybe I misjudged you,” Jenna said. Her face and voice had lost their closed-off aspect.

  A corner of his mouth turned downward. “Actions speak louder than words, witch.”

  Colleen snorted. “Yup, and talk is cheap. I’ve been chafing at the bit to get out of here, but these last few minutes were time well spent.”

  “Agreed.” He aped a Scottish brogue. “Ye canna fight alongside a man ye doona trust.” Duncan held out a hand. Both witches shook it. Bubba walked to the Sidhe on the land bridge formed by their arms and cuddled against him before jumping to the floor.

  “What’s that? An old Celtic saying?” Jenna asked, but she was smiling.

  “You might say that.” Duncan straightened his shoulders. “Now send me an image of where we’re going.”

  “You do that,” Jenna trotted to the door, “and I’ll lock up.”

  Colleen slapped her forehead with a palm. With everything that had happened, the last thing on her mind was securing the shop. “Thanks,” she murmured, and sent a mental picture of the Witches’ Northwest headquarters to Duncan.

  Chapter Four

  Duncan gathered his spell and waited for Jenna to return so he could drape it around all of them. More than anything, the changeling’s vote of confidence touched his heart. He made himself a vow to be worthy of the creature’s trust, particularly in light of what he’d always considered a heavy-handed reaction to the Scottish changelings’ very minor rebellion. The Sidhe could have simply given them a stern talking-to. Even at the time, he’d thought draining their magic more than a little draconian.

  Colleen clucked to Bubba and he leaped into her outstretched hands. Jenna killed the dim shop lights and took her place between him and Colleen. “Double check our destination.” He fired his mage light so he could see their faces, and sent an image to both witches. At their nods, he launched his casting and felt the weightlessness he associated with teleporting. Though it was risky, he planned to bring them out in the basement boiler room of the multi-story structure that housed the Witches’ Northwest Coven headquarters.

  He’d considered an outdoor location, but he wasn’t familiar enough with the area to guarantee someone wouldn’t see them pop out of the ether. If that happened, the sort of panic it would engender was sure to attract the Irichna, if they were as close as Colleen and Jenna thought.

  Too late, he considered weaponry. Seraph blades were ideal. There were several in the Sidhe armory, deep beneath Penrith. In a pinch, an iron blade dipped in holy water worked almost as well, but not for the Sidhe. Iron was poison to them. He wondered what the witches used. Brick walls formed around them. Water dripped down the bricks in a steamy cascade. Duncan held his spell in place, ready to whisk them away if he sensed danger.

  “It’s okay,” Colleen whispered into his ear. “Only us here.”

  “How’d you determine that so fast?” Impressed by her ability, he kept his voice low and reeled in his casting. The basement looked to be one large room. Perched in one corner like a prehistoric beast, an ancient boiler creaked, snapped, and groaned as it sent steam heat elsewhere in the building through an elaborate ducting system that disappeared through the low ceiling.

  “Demons have a particular stink about them,” Colleen said. “You can’t not notice it.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Jenna muttered. She turned in a tight circle and ended up facing Duncan. “I’m
guessing you’ve never actually confronted one.”

  She hadn’t asked a question, she’d told him. Duncan winced, mostly because she was right. He tried to modulate defensiveness that rose to the fore. “I’ve fought other enemies.”

  “But not Irichna.” Colleen glommed onto Jenna’s insinuation like a homing pigeon. The skin around her eyes furrowed with worry. “We’ve fought other enemies too. Nothing ever quite prepares you for the reality of an Irichna demon.”

  Duncan sent his magic spinning outward. Not only were there no demons anywhere near, they seemed to have the entire basement level to themselves. Bubba wriggled in Colleen’s grasp and she set him down. He streaked to a far corner of the boiler room. Muted squeaks from the hapless mouse he’d caught told the rest of the story.

  “We’re not in any immediate danger,” Duncan said. “Take a few minutes and sketch out what I need to know about the Irichna.”

  He felt Colleen draw a ward about them and was glad he’d spared her what would have been a magic-draining teleport. Jenna moved beyond the ward’s invisible circle. “I don’t need to hear. I already know about them.”

  Despite her warding, which was solid, Colleen moved close enough to talk into his ear and she kept her voice so low he had to focus his power to hear her. “Abbadon works under Ba’al. Together, they rule every level of Hell but the ninth. The Irichna are their henchmen, created from spirits of the worst humans. The murders, rapists, sadists, and those utterly lacking a conscience. Some of the dead beg to become Irichna because they crave power, even in death, and they glory in sowing pain and dissent. Abbadon picks a few and they become Irichna.”

  “But if they’re already dead, how—?”

  “Oh, they don’t remain in Hell. Abbadon moves them to one of the borderworlds as soon as they’ve been created. They wreak their havoc from there.”

  “I don’t understand. Abbadon rules in Hell. Why wouldn’t he want his minions near at hand?”

  She waved him to silence. “Stop asking questions and listen. Irichna are impervious to pain. They fear nothing. The sole way to get rid of them is to drive them into the lowest circle of Hell; it’s the only one Abbadon and Ba’al haven’t been able to get their claws into.

  Duncan nodded. “I get it. Abbadon doesn’t keep Irichna in the underworld because they’d be right next to their doom in the Ninth Circle.”

  She gave him a thumbs-up sign, but her eyes held a flat, hard edge. “Righto. It’s too bad; they’d be ever so much easier to get rid of if we didn’t have to drag them all the way through Hell every single time. Anyway, there’s a gateman guarding the lowest circle…” She paused to take a breath. The skin between her eyebrows creased, forming a vertical line. “I can’t tell you his name, it isn’t allowed, but he knows Jenna, Roz, and me. When we show up, he opens an iron portcullis and helps us trap the demon inside.” She pursed her lips. “Once the gate slams shut, we’re done, and we head back up to try to trap another one.”

  “I was thinking maybe a Seraph blade…”

  She shrugged. “Might work for you. That’s a Sidhe tool.”

  “Oh, come now. We’re not the only ones who use them.”

  “That’s true. Druids and priests like them. They never caught on with witches, probably because we can handle iron, so we don’t need magic knives. Besides, the only sure way to get rid of an Irichna is in the lowest pit in Hell. Maybe a blade could help immobilize them so they aren’t such a pain in the ass on the way down.” She shook her head. “If it only shut them up, it would help. I swear, it’s like listening to a Siren’s song sometimes. Take your average compulsion spell, and ratchet it up tenfold.”

  She shuddered. He resisted an impulse to wrap his arms around her, although she wasn’t asking for comfort. A day might come when she’d turn to him for solace, but it certainly wasn’t happening now.

  “All done?” Jenna inquired much too cheerily for the words that had passed between him and Colleen.

  Colleen nodded. “He got the basics, but nothing will prepare him for the reality of an Irichna, other than facing one down without puking, fainting, or turning tail and running like hell.”

  Duncan squared his shoulders. He was so convinced he wouldn’t do any of the above, he didn’t dignify her words with a comment.

  “You think I’m joking?” Colleen’s face was scant inches from his; her warm breath seared him. He shook his head. “Good, because I’m not. All of us have done all those things. Fortunately, it was when there were a few more demon stalker witches to bail us out until we got our shit together.”

  “Enough.” He spread his hands in front of him. “We need to see if we can locate your friend.”

  “She’s not here,” Jenna said flatly. “I looked while the two of you were talking.”

  “Do you have a way to track her down?” Duncan asked.

  Colleen grinned and pulled a cell phone out of her pocket. “Pretty low tech stuff in the midst of magic, but the Irichna don’t understand cellular technology.”

  “Thank Oberon for small favors,” he muttered and watched while she moved beneath one of the high windows that dotted the basement’s brick walls and punched numbers on the small display, including the speaker key so everyone could be included in the conversation. He followed her so he could hear over the noise the boiler made, without drawing additional magic. From the sound of things, he’d need every ounce of power at his disposal. It wouldn’t be wise to squander any magic unnecessarily.

  Roz picked up on the first ring. “Holy godhead,” she shouted. “It took you two fucking long enough to get here. What’d you do, jump the slow boat to China?”

  “Behave yourself, sweetie,” Jenna called as she walked closer. “We have company.”

  “What? Who? Is that why it took you hours to show up?”

  “We, um, found a Sidhe along the way. Or he found us. Showed up in our shop.” Colleen held the phone a little farther away and turned its volume down.

  “They’re the reason we ended up demon stalkers in the first place.” Roz’s voice was shrill. “Send him back to wherever the fuck you found him.”

  “I don’t think he’ll want to go,” Colleen said. “At least you could reserve judgment until—”

  “Why the hell would I want to do that? The only good Sidhe is a dead Sidhe.”

  “Goddammit, Roz.” Jenna stepped right next to the phone. “You don’t like it much when people say that about us. And they do.”

  “Where are you?” Colleen cut in.

  “Right where I told you I’d be. At Coven HQ.”

  “But I tried to find you, and couldn’t,” Jenna protested.

  “I would hope not. I have personal wards deployed and I’m in a warded room.”

  “We’re in the basement. Which floor are you on?” Colleen asked.

  “Top one. There’s a conference room in the attic.” Roz sounded slightly less surly.

  “Be there soon.” Colleen tapped the end call button and pocketed her phone. “Interesting that Roz knew about the Sidhes’ role in our demon stalking abilities.” She shot Jenna a puzzled look.

  “Hmph.” The other witch snorted. “Even more interesting she never mentioned it to us before.”

  Duncan started to gather magic to teleport up a couple of levels, but reconsidered. It would probably be better to just walk. That way, he could get a sense of how the building was laid out.

  Colleen caught his eye and nodded; he realized she’d been in his head again. It was eerie how she could manage it without him knowing. Usually, even full-blood Sidhes had trouble catching him unawares. She made a clucking noise with her tongue against her teeth and Bubba came at a dead run. He threaded his body around her legs, purring furiously. “You’ll be safer as a cat until we get past the first floor,” she told him. The changeling retreated with a short hiss that seemed to indicate he didn’t agree.

  “It must be frustrating for him when he can’t talk,” Duncan ventured.

  “And frustrating for
us when he can,” Jenna cut it. “He has opinions about everything.” Bubba meowed furiously and took a swipe at her ankle, but she jumped out of the way.

  “Come on.” Colleen beckoned. “Let’s see if we can’t find a back staircase or something. As I remember this building, the whole front of the main floor is leaded glass windows, tucked in between Victorian fancywork and turrets, with a clear view of the street. It would be better if we could avoid it.”

  Duncan gazed around the basement and saw two doors. One sat atop a half staircase and clearly led to the outside. He headed toward the other and depressed the latch. The door rattled against its stops, but didn’t move. Locked. He sent magic snaking outward and the deadbolt withdrew from its hidey hole in the doorframe.

  “Pretty neat trick,” Colleen murmured.

  “Yeah, we’ll have to look him up next time we decide to case a joint.” Jenna smirked.

  “Ssht.” He shot a meaningful glace at both witches. Bubba was right next to where the door would open. “You too.” He tapped the cat’s back. “No racing off anywhere on your own. You stay with us.”

  He eased the door open and swept the part of the hallway he could see with seeking magic, tuned to sense fell creatures. Satisfied nothing lurked nearby, he pushed power beyond his immediate visual range. A faint tinge of evil pinged back at him, but it was days’ old. He stepped onto a linoleum floored hallway, lined with cinderblock walls. Florescent lights recessed into the ceiling every twenty feet or so, cast a sickish yellow pall over everything.

  The building smelled old, nothing like buildings in the U.K., but mold, mildew, and disrepair were evident. Apparently building maintenance wasn’t high on the witches’ list of priorities.

  “Watch it, sweetie,” Colleen hissed into his ear. “If you criticize anyone, they’ll force you to leave.”

  He made a grab for her arm and tried telepathic speech, unsure if she’d be able to hear him. “Why are you living in my mind?”

  “Because I’m still not positive you won’t betray us.”