by Ann Gimpel
He bristled at the implication he’d be anything less than honorable. He’d offered himself up in an honest effort to right old wrongs, but her attitude grated. “If you’d rather, I can leave right now,” he said stiffly.
“Bully idea,” Jenna muttered, but Bubba clawed his way up Duncan’s side and settled in the crook of one arm.
Colleen shook her head. “No. Like I said before, we need all the help we can get. Besides, Bubba seems to trust him and he doesn’t give that away lightly.”
“Maybe the changeling’s just pissed at you,” Jenna said, “and hoping for better luck with the Sidhe.” The cat hissed, snarled, and reached a paw toward Jenna, claws extended. “All right, all right.” She took a step back. “I didn’t mean it.”
Duncan blew out a tense breath. Though he’d tossed out the option of ditching them, the last thing he wanted was to leave Colleen’s side. “Come on.” He started down the hall, still holding the changeling. The creature felt warm against his side.
“How’d you know to go left?” Jenna asked. “Supposedly, you haven’t been here before.”
“I haven’t. There was another door at the far end of the boiler room that looked like it went outside. If we’re hunting for an inner staircase…” he let his words trail off. Duncan wasn’t used to explaining himself to anyone, but then no Sidhe did, no matter what their social standing.
He came to an opening where risers led upward and sent magic ahead, checking for danger. Witch energy bombarded him. “Looks like your friend got tired of waiting.”
“Patience never was her long suit.” Colleen snorted.
Privately, Duncan didn’t think any of the three witches could be poster children for anything that smacked of submissiveness, but he kept his mouth shut and hoped to hell Colleen wasn’t in his thoughts.
Heavy soled boots sounded on the bare, wooden stairs. A woman with black hair so long it reached her knees came into view. Strong Native American features, with high cheekbones and a beak of a nose, graced her ageless face. She was the same height as Jenna, which pegged her around six feet four, but she had a much more slender build. Discerning dark eyes caught his gaze and held it. She wiped her hands on the sides of her tattered blue jeans and tugged a nondescript, gray sweater lower around her hips. “Hmph. I can see why they didn’t simply toss you out on your ass. Colleen didn’t say you were drop dead gorgeous.”
“Give it a rest, Roz.” Jenna pushed in next to Duncan. “They all are.”
“You’re doing it again,” Duncan said through gritted teeth.
“Doing what?”
“Talking about me as if I were an object and wasn’t here.”
“Oh,” she swept her upper body into a mock bow, “can you ever forgive me, Sidhe, sir?”
“Can we just go on upstairs?” Colleen’s voice held a weary note. “There’s an enemy here, but it’s not us.”
“It’s why I came down here,” Roz turned and headed back up the stairs, “to show you this staircase.”
Except I found it just fine without you. Duncan muffled his thoughts. If Colleen could invade his mind like a stealth fighter, no doubt these other two could also. Hadn’t they said Roz was more powerful than both of them put together? He thought about it and realized they hadn’t actually said that. He’d plucked it out of Colleen’s head.
Duncan followed Roz’s swinging hips up the stairs. Guess Colleen’s not the only one guilty of mind eavesdropping. He considered apologizing, but since she hadn’t been aware of him culling through her thoughts, maybe he should leave well enough alone. Bubba curved closer to his body, purring. Colleen’s energy pulsed behind him and he felt Jenna drawing up the rear.
They passed landing after landing. When the stairs stopped on the fifth landing, Roz pushed a banded metal door open. He felt the iron from several inches away. Good thing witches weren’t sensitive to it. It made his stomach roil and his nerve endings scream.
The witch held the door open far enough that he could scrunch through without actually touching it. He fought back nausea and muttered, “Keeps the demons out, huh?”
Roz eyed him sharply. “Yes. And other riff-raff too.”
He bit back a pointed retort. He was here as the witches’ guest, sort of, but not a particularly welcome one. It would behoove him to remember that. Roz led the way down a short hallway. The farther he got from that goddess-blasted metal door, the better he felt. Maybe when it was time to leave, he’d just teleport out of there and avoid the door altogether.
“In here.” Roz pointed through a curved doorway. Mercifully, this door was plain, old wood.
Duncan walked through and stopped. The large room tucked beneath the old house’s eaves might have been cozy, with its dark wainscoting and a bevy of colorful cushions scattered about, if a dozen witches dripping with power hadn’t been staring malevolently. An aged crone with long, gray braids and a seamed face stood and pointed a gnarled finger at him. Black robes flowed around her as if they had a life of their own. “Start talking, Sidhe. I warn you. Anything less than the unvarnished truth in response to our questions will earn you a session in an iron clad room with the Irichna we just caught.”
He looked from one hostile face to the next and kicked himself for his impetuous Sir Galahad moment back in Colleen and Jenna’s shop. Duncan squared his shoulders. “I will do my best, but if you ask for things my people hold secret, I will not be able to oblige you.”
The witches looked from one to the other. Something passed among them, but magic barred him from their minds. “We shall see.” The crone thrust her chin out. “First question: Why were you hunting for Colleen? What’s really going on in the Old Country?”
“That was two questions.”
“So?” She tilted her head. Rheumy, dark eyes pierced him. “Answer them in order.”
Chapter Five
Colleen took Bubba from Duncan. She used the opportunity of snagging the cat from his arms to touch him briefly and infuse confidence he’d get through the interrogation. She knew better than to go up against Mathilde, head of the Witches’ Northwest Coven and one of the most powerful mages Colleen had ever known.
She set Bubba down and released him from his cat form. The changeling capered around the floor until Mathilde pointed a finger at him and he shrank to Colleen’s side, wrapping an arm around her leg. She dug in her bag and handed Bubba a set of clothes. He made a sour face, but clambered into them.
Duncan responded to a spate of questions. Some had to do with why he’d come hunting for her, but others went way back to the original Sidhe decision to conscript witches for what had originally been Sidhe dirty work: keeping Earth free of demons. Crap! Had she and Jenna been the only witches who didn’t know about that? Apparently tired of standing, Mathilde sank back onto her chair, but kept the questions coming.
Something tugged at Colleen’s innards. With a shock, she realized she felt proud of Duncan. Not only was he holding his own in an intimidating environment, but he was doing his best to be as forthright as he could. This time, he knew she was inside his head because she’d made her presence obvious, but he hadn’t chastised her or chased her out. No, he’d accepted her. A warm glow started in her belly. To her surprise, she welcomed it.
“So.” Mathilde’s harsh rasp of a voice dragged Colleen from her musings. “Let me make certain I’ve got this right, Sidhe. One lousy Irichna demon showed up in the Cumbrian countryside and the Sidhe panicked and sent you after a demon stalker witch.”
Color stained Duncan’s cheeks; a muscle twitched in his tight jaw. He looked the witch square in the eyes and nodded.
“Why couldn’t you just take care of it yourself?”
“Because we gave that power to you.”
“Explain.” Mathilde bit off the word.
“I thought I already did. We gave certain witches the genetic ability to herd demons into Hell.”
Mathilde narrowed her eyes. “Yet you didn’t retain it for yourselves?”
“No. Appa
rently not.”
“Why?”
Duncan breathed out a tense sigh. Colleen saw in his mind that he was grateful he didn’t actually know. “I wasn’t privy to that discussion.”
“Would you have agreed with it if you had been?”
Duncan spread his hands in front of him. “I’m not sure how that’s relevant. I was a different man two hundred years ago. I might have agreed, or not. I can’t extrapolate backward.” His forehead crinkled. “As I recall, there was something about shape shifting ability that went along with that particular genetic sequence. The Sidhe have never been comfortable with altering our forms. Besides, we have other magic we can potentially tap to fight demons. It’s somewhat unpleasant, so none of us have used it for a long time.”
Bubba sidled to Duncan’s side and faced the witches ranged in a semicircle. “I trust him. He’s sorry about what happened to the changelings.”
“Ach.” Mathilde waved a dismissive hand. “You’re like a child, swayed by the first bit of kindness tossed your way.”
Colleen felt Bubba’s anger flare. She made a dive for him, but was a hair too late. The changeling launched himself onto a heavy oak table right in front of Mathilde. “Do you know what changelings are?” he demanded, waving a clenched fist in the witch’s face. “How we came to be?”
Colleen scooped him up. He writhed in her arms. “Not now,” she snapped and handed him to Duncan, who’d stepped to her side, hands extended.
Colleen’s temper was growing thin. She moved between Duncan and the witches’ tribunal. “We’re wasting time. Apparently there’s an Irichna who needs transport out of here. How many others have you seen? What’s the body count and is it just here that demons have targeted us, or are there other locations?”
Mathilde furled her gray brows, apparently surprised by Colleen’s sudden barrage of questions. “The attack seems widespread throughout the northwest corridor, even up into British Columbia. As of yesterday, forty of us were dead all through the region, half from this Coven. Other than the demon we captured, five more have been spotted—we think. They change form so frequently, it’s impossible to be certain.”
“Which means there are probably more than five,” Jenna, who’d been uncharacteristically silent, murmured.
“At least two are lurking close by,” Roz said. “I did a little reconnaissance after I talked with Jenna earlier.”
“Are you certain the one you have bound is still here?” Colleen asked.
Mathilde nodded. “He’s trussed with iron manacles in an iron clad room. Last I looked in on him, he was moaning we’d flayed the skin off him.”
“I thought you said they didn’t feel pain.” Duncan quirked a brow at Colleen.
“They don’t,” she said shortly. “That was just a ploy on its part. Maybe someone would feel sorry enough to unshackle it.”
“We should get it out of here,” Jenna said.
“Right,” Roz seconded. “Sooner the better. Then we can concentrate on the pair I sensed in the park across the street.”
An idea took form. Colleen said. “How about this? It certainly won’t take all of us to shepherd one Irichna into Hell. I’ll take Duncan and Bubba. It can be a practice run for our new Sidhe ally. I’ll be able to see, up close and personal, how he feels about the ability his people foisted onto us.” She shot him an appraising glance. Duncan tipped his head her way, obviously rising to the challenge. Bubba worked his way out of Duncan’s grasp and ran to her, his pique at Mathilde apparently forgotten, or at least shoved aside for now.
“I didn’t release the Sidhe,” Mathilde pointed out. Getting back to her feet, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I wasn’t aware I was your prisoner.” Duncan kept his voice mild, but his hands curled into fists.
Colleen felt her jaw clench in frustration. Hell no, Duncan wasn’t the witches’ prisoner, or even a detainee. She wanted to slap Mathilde. Anything to wipe the smirk off her face. Her questions were an indulgence; she had to know as much. They had more important fish to fry. Besides, she, Roz, and Jenna weren’t part of the Witches’ Northwest Coven, so technically, they didn’t owe any particular allegiance to Mathilde, or her witches.
Forcing a direct confrontation would be a mistake, though, no matter how badly Colleen wanted to tell Mathilde off. Instead, she half bowed to the other witch. “Please consider releasing him. I’m certain Duncan will make time for further questions, as your guest, once the immediate danger has been defused.”
Mathilde smiled dangerously with lots of teeth and zero warmth. “I will hold you to that, Sidhe.” She jabbed a finger toward Duncan.
Colleen held her breath, afraid Duncan would argue that her offer of a further brain-picking session didn’t bind him to anything. All he did was nod noncommittally and say, “Ready whenever you are, Colleen.”
Bubba trotted toward the door. Duncan sauntered after him; Colleen followed them out. Out in the hallway, he half-turned. “Which way are we going?”
“One floor down.” She shepherded them back through the iron door to the stairwell, noting how Duncan cringed away from it.
“Pretty intense group,” Duncan said. “Reminds me of Sidhe gatherings.”
She swallowed a snort of laughter. “Magic wielders never were known for having a sense of humor.”
“Some of us do,” Bubba piped up as he trotted between them. “We’ll have to get the demon out of the metal room without Duncan,” he went on. “Iron makes him sick too.”
“Why doesn’t it bother you?” Duncan asked the changeling.
“It did. The thing with being a changeling, is part of our makeup is, well, changeable. Colleen infused enough witchiness into me, I lost my sensitivity to iron.”
“He wouldn’t have been much good as a demon-hunting sidekick if he got sick every time we got near metal,” she said and pushed open the door to the next floor down’s hallway. “Say,” she shot an appraising glance his way, “maybe that was the real reason your kin wanted out from under Irichna hunting so much.”
Duncan sucked in a breath. “Tell me what to do so I’ll be a help, not a hindrance.”
Part of her was pleased he recognized the wisdom of asking for help in a situation he’d never faced before. Her estimation of the Sidhe edged up several notches. Most men, regardless of species, would rather die than ask for assistance.
He chuckled, obviously having read her thoughts. She blushed. “Sorry,” she murmured. “That was a bit sexist.”
“Maybe, but truer words, er thoughts, were never spoken. I just figure you’ll have your hands full and I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Thanks. Bubba and I have done this enough, we’ll have things under control, but it won’t feel that way. That shape shifting element you recalled earlier?” He nodded and she went on. “Expect me to change form, probably several times. The Irichna can morph into an infinite variety of things. If I couldn’t match them, form for form, I’d be dead meat.”
“Me too.” Bubba sounded excited. “I can be lots of things besides a stupid cat.”
Colleen kept them at the end of the hallway, as far from the iron-shielded room as she could, for Duncan’s sake. There wasn’t much more he had to know, but there were a couple of things. “Ward yourself. And then ward yourself again. Be ready for anything. The Irichna will recognize you for what you are, and will see you as the weak link in the chain. It will turn itself inside out trying to seduce you. If that doesn’t work, it will tug hard on whatever sets you off. Ignore it. No matter what.”
She thumped her index finger into his chest. “If you let any part of the demon inside your mind for any length of time, you’ll never be quite sane again, not even after it’s buried in the bottom of Hell.”
Colleen watched Duncan’s face, gratified when fear flickered in the back of his clear, green eyes. She jabbed him again with her finger. “It’s good for you to be afraid. Never, never underestimate an Irichna. The demon will know your weaknesses, and how to explo
it them, better than you do.”
“But you’re immune?”
“Of course not. I just have more practice than you. And I can shape shift. My animal forms aren’t as susceptible to demon flattery—or insults. Bubba and I will herd the demon. This will go a lot faster if you could teleport us to the gates of Hell.”
“I can do that.”
“Once we pass the first gatekeeper, you can follow us down, but stay out of the way. Demons get frantic the closer they get to their doom. They know there’s no exit from where we’re taking them.”
“Got it. I’m to ward myself and provide transport.”
“What else?” She fought an irrational impulse to draw him close to her. He was so beautiful, and so vulnerable. He’d never be the same after today, but she didn’t have the heart—or the words—to tell him. Besides, he’d never believe her.
“I’m supposed to ignore the demon. How hard could that be?”
“You’ll be surprised.” She began stripping off her clothes. The changeling did too.
“What are you doing?” His gaze roamed over her appreciatively. Lust darkened his eyes to emerald.
“Stop leering at me. I’m not doing this because I want sex. I’ll be shape shifting. I don’t want to rip my things to shreds. This way, I’ll have something to put on once we’re done—and so will Bubba.” She held out her hands for the changeling’s clothes, stuffed everything into her small rucksack, slipped it around her neck, and pushed it so it hung down her back. “Come on sweetie.” She clucked to Bubba and headed down the hall. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
•●•
Duncan watched her walk away. He wound wards about himself and tried to move past the tightness in his gut and throat. He should be protecting Colleen, not the other way around. The longer he spent with her, the more he admired her courage, and wanted to stake his claim as her mate. The other Sidhe would pitch a fit; they didn’t mate outside the blood, but he didn’t care. He’d never found a woman he felt anything for except momentary sexual release. Colleen was bright, funny, brave, and knew how to use her mind. She’d done a hell of a job maximizing what he’d always considered inferior magic too.
